#Disney regrets it has come to this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerandblood · 3 months

Text

The Sin & The Penance

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, revenge motive, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he could not sleep – he wriggled in bed, checking from time to time whether she had perhaps called him back or written anything. Although he had tried to reach her at least ten times she did not answer and he was afraid to write her a message.

What if she went to the police with this?

Maybe that's what he deserved, he thought after a while with regret, staring blankly at the bright screen of his phone, wondering if he should try again despite the late hour.

As much as he tried to find some logical justification for what he had done, he couldn't explain what had really driven him.

Admittedly, at first he was guided only by anger and spite, but then these emotions disappeared, replaced by a hot, dark desire that filled his loins, completely overshadowing his cool judgement.

Something about her brightness, her lightness, her joy, made him long to lean over her like the dark sky, like night over the stars, and cover her with his blackness, his emptiness, consuming and devouring her.

He had never experienced such a disturbing and overpowering sensation before and was horrified that he was prone to such thoughts and such actions.

He had completely lost his mind because of her.

She had asked him to let her go, so why didn't he do so?

Alys had always been eager for his aggressive, violent games, he knew that, and he felt no remorse about what he was doing to her or where, but this little girl was terrified, trembling all over with fear, and yet all he could think about was how desperately he needed to feel her.

Perhaps subconsciously her cheerfulness, her attitude attracted him.

Maybe after years of sadness and mourning he wanted to feel at last something more than grief.

He covered his eyes with his hand, sighing heavily at that thought, feeling a squeeze in his throat and heart.

He only fell into a restless sleep in the morning with his phone lying next to his face, and was awakened two hours later by his alarm clock anyway, which he switched off with displeasure, tired, sad and embarrassed by what he had done.

He couldn't look Daeron in the face as they ate breakfast together. His little brother looked up at him from over his bowl of his favourite cereal with milk – he knew he was about to start asking questions about her.

"When will Esmeralda come here to sew our costumes?" He asked finally, stirring the milk with his spoon, looking at the chocolate balls that floated on its surface.

He pressed his lips together, not knowing how to explain to him how much he had fucked up.

What he had done to her.

"I don't know if she'll even show up here again." He replied truthfully, Daeron gave him a quick, horrified look.

"She promised me. She promised me we'd sew them together and go to the ball." He muttered, his eyes filling with tears again.

He decided he wouldn't be so cruel as to let him believe it was her fault, though part of his mind opted for that.

"I know, but I hurt her and I'm afraid she won't forgive me." He said lowly, swallowing hard, fiddling with his coffee cup, not daring to look at him, his heart pounding like mad.

"What do you mean? Did you hit her?" He asked in disbelief, and he clenched his eyes, realising that in his childish mind the greatest harm a man could do to a woman was that he could slap her.

He was silent for a while, not sure how or if I should explain it to him, whether it would be too much.

"In a way. And I did something else, much worse. Against her pleas. I could go to jail for that." He muttered, covering his face with his hand, feeling that even though he hadn't eaten anything he felt sick to his stomach.

"Why did you do that? She's so kind. What did she do to you? Did you get angry with her because of me?" He mumbled through his tears. He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought that, like any child, he was trying to justify the adult in his head, deciding that after all he was smarter and more experienced than him, so his behaviour must have been because he, his little brother, had done something wrong.

"No. No, it didn't and doesn't have anything to do with you. This is our adult business, but she has the right to be very angry with me and not speak to me. However, I'm completely sure she doesn't blame you." He replied quickly, biting his lower lip.

It wasn't until he spoke it aloud that it occurred to him how pathetic, inappropriate and cruel what he had done was, how afraid she must have been of him.

Was she telling herself she liked it so she could somehow survive it? She decided to go along with it so she wouldn't suffer?

"Do you think I can call her?" He asked in a quivering voice, and he looked at him with his heart pounding fast, recognising in the back of his mind that it was an excellent thought, that she might want to at least talk to him.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll give you her number, but call her from your phone. She's not answering from me."

He stared feeling the cold sweat on his back at his brother's reflection in the mirror driving towards the centre, seeing as he pressed the numbers written on the piece of paper on the keypad of his phone and lifted it to his ear – he heard the quiet beep of a call waiting.

He shuddered as someone answered, trying to focus on the road, complete panic in his mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hello? Hi, it's Daeron. Can you talk? No, he can't hear what you're saying, we're just driving to the centre." He muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling a constriction in his chest from which he found it hard to breathe, trying to erase from his mind the image of him slamming into her again and again with the brutal, sharp thrusts of his hips.

"He told me that he had done you wrong and that he had hurt you very badly. I'm very sorry he did that. I just wanted to ask when we're going to sew our costumes." He mumbled out quickly. He felt his eyebrows arch in shame and covered his mouth with his free hand, resting his elbow against his car door, looking ahead in disbelief.

How could he do this to her?

For a moment Daeron listened to what she was saying on the phone with concentration and he was dying inside, afraid that she would explain to him with details of what he had done to her. After a moment he nodded as if he understood what she meant, he saw his face lighten a little.

"Okay. Okay, I'll ask my brother if he agrees to it. Bye bye." He said softly and hung up, sighing heavily.

"And?" He asked looking at him in the mirror, stopping in the car park, feeling like he was about to go crazy. His brother looked down at his fingers.

"Esmeralda said that after your argument she can no longer come to our house, but that I can come to her at the University. She said that the building is modern and wheelchair accessible, there are special toilets, lifts and everything needed. We could do my homework in her room in the dormitory and then walk around the campus, sewing and painting." He said uncertainly, glancing at him pleadingly. He swallowed loudly, feeling disappointed and at the same time understanding of her decision and grunted softly, turning off the engine.

"Would you like that?" He asked him calmly, and his brother nodded quickly.

"Then so be it."

Despite his requests, Daeron refused to tell him which of the boys had called him Quasimodo.

He said that it didn't matter now.

He thought with regret that his younger brother had more maturity and calmness in himself than he did.

Sitting at work he was all nerves, he had not received any notification that anyone had filed a police report on him, so for some reason, perhaps out of fear, she had not done so.

He felt both relieved and ashamed at the same time, unable to look at himself, thinking that he was not only disgusting on the outside but also on the inside.

When Alys suggested that they go to the toilet for a while he simply agreed, feeling that he needed to lash out, to expel the grief, shame and desperation that seemed to fill his whole body.

He turned her body violently with her back to him, thinking with fatigue that he didn't want to look at her face. As he unzipped his trousers he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him, on her panties lowered halfway down her thighs, her entrance sticky with arousal. He closed his eyes and grasped his cock firmly in his hand, giving it a few aggressive, hard strokes.

As much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her sweet moans, about how wonderful she smelled, about how tight she was, about her body convulsing in his embrace.

He got instantly hard, wasted no time and surprised his lover, who moaned with delight at feeling how direct and exceptionally violent he was this day, his thrusts full of desperation and aggression, his groans low and throaty.

Something was wrong – her insides were different, her buttocks were different, her scent was different, too intense, her moans too deep, too sensual, not as innocent and surprised as hers.

He pressed his lips together feeling he couldn't focus or get as much pleasure out of it as he would have liked.

"− shut the fuck up −" He growled speeding up but it was to no avail – when he opened his eyes he saw a completely different woman in front of him. He slowed down, swallowing loudly, feeling that nothing would come of it.

"− fucking bastard − ah, don't stop − what happened? − did I do something wrong? −" She asked as he slid out of her and fastened his zipper in a quick motion, furious, disappointed, humiliated, distraught that he wanted her, this little girl, her moans, her scent, her touch, her gaze, her tight, weeping cunt, being able to spend whole nights with his face sunk between her thighs, begging her forgiveness, muttering between the flicks of his tongue that he would make it all up to her.

"− no − I'm sorry, it's my fault −" He said lowly, not wanting to lash out at her. She grunted quietly, surprised, putting her lacy underwear and trousers back on over her hips, fastening them with a quick, nimble movement.

"− you seem stressed − something wrong? − do you want to talk? −" She asked softly, and he felt a kind of gratitude that she hadn't laughed at him or judged him, that she had acted as if nothing had happened.

He decided, however, that he didn't want to share his thoughts with her.

"− no − forgive me − have a nice day −" He said calmly, opening the cubicle door and left the restroom, moving down the corridor in front of him, clenching his eyelids, brushing his short, slicked-back hair with a quick movement.

What had happened between them, what he had done to her had left a mark on more than just her.

He felt as if he had woken up from a lethargy after five years, everything around him was sharper and brighter, painfully clear.

The next morning, according to the arrangements made between her and Daeron, he was to turn up in the car park outside the University from where she was to pick up his brother.

He dreaded this meeting, dreaded what he would see in her face, disgust, regret and bitterness, all the way to the place he felt like stopping and throwing up.

He felt a shudder and a loud pounding of his heart when they arrived at the agreed spot and he noticed her, standing between the cars dressed in a fitted strapless dress with daisies on it, her beautiful hair the scent of which he could still smell in his nostrils loose, trainers on her feet.

He stopped, swallowing hard, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out, glancing at her – she stood at a safe distance from them and looked away, playing with the fingers of her hands, thoughtful and sad.

What he saw hurt him even more than if she had been staring at him with hatred.

He walked around the car and took out Daeron's wheelchair to which he helped him move from the back seat – his little brother beamed at the sight of her and began to move the wheels himself heading towards her. He saw with regret that she smiled warmly when she saw him, genuine joy on her face.

"Hi. High five!" She said to him cockily and their hands hit each other in the air, even though he was standing a few steps away she didn't give him a single glance.

"So, shall we go?" She asked encouragingly, and Daeron nodded.

He wanted to ask if she was sure he would be safe here, if she would remember to take him to lunch, if she would watch out for him, but he didn't dare, shame took his speech away.

He decided it would be better if he kept quiet and led them away with his gaze, then got into his car and drove to work.

He spent all day thinking about her, sitting over the case files recalling again and again her appearance, her pleasant figure, her warm face that beamed all over at the sight of his younger brother.

Why did she have to be like this?

Why did she have to be what he craved, the personification of his deepest, darkest needs, a ripe peach that someone had placed in front of him on a platter while he was starving?

When he arrived after work to pick up Daeron they both stood in the distance, said their goodbyes, and she turned away without even bestowing a single glance on him. He got out of the car, intent on helping his brother into the back seat.

"And how was it?" He asked lowly, feeling sadness and emptiness, anxiety and a strange tightening in his stomach.

"Great! We studied together in her room and then she showed me around the whole campus. We even looked in the classroom where the students were painting portraits and she told me a bit about how it was done. Everyone was very friendly." He said quickly, clearly excited and pleased. He swallowed hard, sighing softly as he folded his wheelchair and threw it back into the boot.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asked calmly, returning to the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt and turning on the engine.

"Yes, we had lunch in the university canteen. I could choose whatever I wanted." He said with satisfaction, a wide smile on his face.

He felt like asking him if she had mentioned anything about him, if she had anything to convey to him, but realised that there was nothing she might want to tell him.

She was doing this to keep her word to Daeron.

For a few weeks it seemed to him that he had locked himself in some kind of circle, looking forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays, days during which he would see her, albeit only from a distance, her figure bright and graceful.

He wondered with pain if she still had the bruises on her neck that his lips had left and swallowed loudly, feeling ashamed that his manhood reacted to that thought with a strong throbbing in his trousers.

He had suspected it before, but now he was absolutely sure.

He was fucking mad.

On the day the carnival ball was to be held, he was supposed to drive Daeron to the centre and pick him up after a few hours, but he decided that it wouldn't be worth going home for such a short time and he would just wait for them somewhere off to the side without bothering them.

As he pulled up in front of the building he swallowed heavily, seeing her from a distance, already dressed in her Esmeralda costume, her dark, loose hair tied with a violet scarf to form a headband, bells tied to her purple skirt, simple black ballerinas on her feet, round gold earrings in her ears, clanking bracelets on her wrists.

However, what drew his attention most was her white, buff long-sleeved shirt, tucked into the the sea-colored corset under her breasts that wonderfully emphasized her waist, it's sleeves lowered so that her shoulders were bare, it was slit down in the middle, showing the bare skin of her chest.

He swallowed loudly, looking away, feeling with horror that the very sight of it made him hard.

He grunted, helping Daeron out of the car and moved behind him, guessing that she wasn't going to help his brother dress after all, not wanting to invade his privacy.

"You really look like Esmeralda! So beautiful!" Exclaimed his younger brother, and she turned gracefully raising her hands with a clink of her bells and bracelets, showing off her costume in all its glory.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Where's my costume?!" He asked excitedly, and she picked up the large paper bag that stood next to her feet and smiled.

"Here. Let's go." She said lightly without looking at him, Daeron immediately pushed the wheels of his wheelchair and headed after her.

He moved behind them, feeling like an intruder, looking everywhere but at her, trying not to think about the sight of her partially exposed back.

She explained to him quickly what needed to be put on first and how – he was impressed that what she had made really did look like golden armour, but when he took out the individual pieces they turned out to be surprisingly light.

He locked himself and Daeron in one of the toilet cubicles, helping him to change, his brother looking extremely pleased.

"Are you two reconciled?" He asked, clearly thinking that since she was speaking to him again she had forgiven him. He swallowed loudly, not knowing how to explain to him that what he had done could not simply be taken back.

"I don't think so. But don't think about it. Hm?" He asked softly and he lowered his gaze, disappointed.

"You look great. What a real knight you are. Come, it's time for you to dance a little with your beautiful Esmeralda." He said calmly, opening the door for him. He wheeled out into the corridor with a smile, his Esmeralda catching her cheeks with a wide smile of delight.

The sight of himself in the armour gave him confidence – it appeared that the whole thing had been designed so that he could flex his arms, elbows and wrists, the parts fitted together.

He thought with a pained grin that she had really made an effort.

"My knight. Promise to protect me from the evil thugs!" She called out theatrically and glared at him – he swallowed loudly, turning his face away in shame, his younger brother assuring her that he would not let anyone hurt her.

Too late, he thought.

For some reason, he felt tears under his eyelids, his throat squeezed so tight he had trouble breathing.

He watched as they moved ahead into a large gymnasium where the lights were slightly dim, a disco ball was spinning on the ceiling, Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper was playing in the background, children and their caretakers spinning around, dressed as various characters and creatures.

Although many of the costumes looked quite impressive, he couldn't take his eyes off her – as she danced she sang the lyrics of the song with theatrical devotion as if she knew them by heart, her hair, bracelets and earrings glistened in the light of the multi-coloured lights, the sweat on the bare skin of her exposed arms glittered like little crystals.

He looked at her leaning with his back against the wall with his hands folded in front of him, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, covering up what was happening in his trousers.

He looked around the room and noticed a group of boys looking at her and Daeron. He frowned, wondering if they were the ones calling his brother Quasimodo.

He felt some kind of satisfaction at the thought that they were watching his brother dance with a pretty girl.

He really deserved her.

Such a good kid.

He left after a while, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket – even though he hadn't smoked in months and was trying to quit, he felt that what was happening was too much for him.

His hands trembled as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his lighter, taking a loud drag, closing his eyes, clenching his fingers on the base of his nose.

There was only chaos in his head.

"We need to talk." He heard her soft, trembling voice and turned around immediately, taking a few steps away, for some reason terrified by her sudden proximity.

He stared at her with his lips slightly parted, his body froze still, his heart pounding like mad, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

God, she was pregnant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I can no longer take care of Daeron. I just wanted to keep my promise and go to the ball with him. I think he's had enough disappointments in his life and I didn't want to provide him with any more." She said shivering all over, looking everywhere but at him – he felt like he was about to vomit from terror and grief.

What?

"But…if I'm the problem, we can arrange it so that I bring him in a while early and you pick him up from under the main entrance. I'll pay you more." He muttered, completely surprised by her words, not knowing what to say, not wanting to imagine how his little brother would react.

She shook her head quickly at his words, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrists in a nervous gesture.

"I can't. He reminds me of you. You two are similar in appearance." She mumbled and burst out crying, drawing in air loudly, covering her face with her hand in an attempt to calm herself. He looked at her in disbelief, feeling his voice get stuck in his throat.

"I haven't told anyone about what you did to me, because in his eyes you are his authority. I don't want to put him through unnecessary suffering, but I expect you to come up with something and find some convincing explanation as to why I can't continue to take care of him, Mr Prosecutor." She muttered regretfully wiping her cheeks swollen from tears, struggling to catch her breath, her plump lips parted, her eyebrows arched in despair.

He didn't know when he fell to his knees in front of her, when he clasped his hands around her waist, dropping his cigarette to the ground – he pressed his face to her womb, breathing loudly, feeling like he was going through some kind of panic, his lungs compressed, tears streaming down his face one after another, everything around him seemed to spin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − please, please, forgive me −" He mumbled hysterically what he had wanted to say to her for weeks – he heard her gasp loudly in shock, raising her hands in a gesture of helplessness, felt her place them on his shoulders trying to gently push him away, her stomach trembled under his face in sobs.

"− l-let me go − please, get up −" She whimpered pleadingly, but he shook his head – he thought he couldn't do it, he couldn't let her go.

"− I need you − even if for the rest of my life I will only look at you from afar −" He exhaled helplessly, sinking his nose into the material of her soft skirt, feeling her wonderful scent fill his lungs again, the warmth of her body that enveloped his face.

He didn't care that the people around them were looking at them like they were crazy, didn't care that perhaps they knew who he was.

"− I can't − I've tried − I've forgiven you, but I can't forget − you robbed me of my dignity −" She said in a raspy, broken voice – he felt himself whooping with his own tears, clasping his fingers at her back, his helpless mumbling ripped from his throat as if without the participation of his free will.

"− do what you want with me − fucking destroy me −"

"We needed to talk. I'll be right back." She said quickly, forcing herself to smile – Daeron could sense the tension between them though, his lips tightened, his gaze wandering from him to her.

"Aemond? What's going on?" He heard his brother's frightened voice and immediately rose from his knees, letting her go, both of them wiping their faces quickly, her cheeks pale and at the same time red from tears.

"Have you…reconciled yet? Has my brother apologised to you?" He asked uncertainly and she nodded and laughed lightly, something in her response made him clench his eyelids and swallow loudly – he covered his face with his hand, feeling that for some reason he couldn't stop crying.

You robbed me of my dignity.

"− y-yes − yes, we've already explained everything to each other, we simply got a little emotional − come on, let's go back inside −" She said softly and stroked his head – he smiled at her and glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?" He asked, but he shook his head, choking out that he would wait for them in the car.

He locked himself inside in the driver's seat and put his forehead on the steering wheel, feeling an overpowering emptiness and this awful, terrifying chill, as if someone had gouged out his insides with a spoon like the flesh of a fruit, leaving only a mere shell.

He thought that he had died five years ago, on the day of that accident.

He only existed so that Daeron could live on.

He shuddered, as if awakened from a deep, restless slumber, hearing a knock on the window on his side – he glanced there and saw Daeron waving at him and his Esmeralda, looking at him uncertainly, terrified of his condition, dark night all around them.

He got out of the car, massaging his forehead, feeling a terrible headache, not being sure for a moment where he actually was or what time it was – in an automatic reflex he opened the back door and helped Daeron get in, he could smell her scent beside him, her gaze fixed on him.

"Are you sure you should drive?" She asked hesitantly, and he swallowed loudly, thinking that since the day of that accident he had never gotten into a car that someone else was driving.

"Yes. Shall I drive you back?" He asked lowly, not looking at her, folding Daeron's small wheelchair.

"No need, thank you, I'll get an Uber." She muttered, his younger brother furrowed his brow, looking at her worriedly.

"We'll drive you back. It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone." He insisted.

She sighed quietly and nodded, walking around the car, sitting down next to Daeron in the back seat.

He got behind the wheel and started the engine, involuntarily glancing at her in the mirror – their gazes met, her eyes sad and tired, full of a regret she had every right to feel.

He drove ahead, trying to wake up and focus on the road, looking at the lights of the cars passing him and thought that maybe if he had killed them it would have been better for all of them.

He grunted loudly, tilting his head back, leaning against the backrest, recognising that he had completely lost his mind, that he was sinking into depression and hysteria, that he had reached the very bottom.

It seemed to him that she sensed that something was happening to him – he was catching her on the fact that she was glancing at him uncertainly, answering something to Daeron who was chatting her up, talking about his friends' costumes. She was just nodding, pretending to listen to him, her hands playing with the material of her skirt in a nervous gesture.

God, how he longed for her to drive with him to their house, to go with him to his bedroom, so that he could kneel before her and whisper how sorry he was, how he wished he could make it all right, to slide with his hands the material of her shirt and her skirt, so that his lips could kiss her whole beautiful, warm body with devotion and adoration, her feet, her calves, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her face, her….

"WATCH OUT!" He heard her scream of terror and pressed the brake suddenly, at the last moment stopping in front of a crossroads where he should have given way to those driving on his right and left – a man almost rammed into them and started honking at them, gesticulating aggressively, opening his window and shouting, asking what the fuck he was doing.

He looked quickly in the mirror, feeling as if he was deaf, his brother was crying loudly, snuggled into her, shaking with fear, her eyes wide, staring at him in horror.

"… are you all right?" He asked dully, feeling like his head was spinning – he saw her nod quickly, and then suddenly he went dark in front of his eyes, his head dropped limply and hit something hard.

He was awakened by someone's conversation. He felt someone touching him, something pleasantly warm enveloped him – his body was lying on something soft and comfortable, he thought he was lying on the sofa in his house.

"− overwork, dehydration, stress, trauma − anything could have caused this, ma'am − when can his sister come? −" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"− his younger brother called her, but she only managed to buy a plane ticket for tomorrow −" He heard her soft, warm voice – he shuddered and opened his eyes with difficulty, wanting to see her, to make sure nothing had happened to her.

He spotted her blurred silhouette in the warm light of the night lamp – she was sitting next to him on the sofa in his living room, still dressed in her Esmeralda costume.

"− can you stay here until she arrives? − are you a friend of the family? −" Asked the man who was apparently a paramedic, packing his suitcase and pulling off his latex gloves. She nodded.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm his little brother's carer −" She replied calmly, the man and she both glanced at him when they noticed he was awake.

"− how are you feeling, sir? − you had a panic attack and fainted − I have given you intravenous sedatives and strengthening medications, you should feel better soon −" The man with the black beard, surely a few years older than him, said to him.

He grunted quietly as he tried to raise himself up on his elbows, feeling everything around him swirl and lay back, giving up.

"− fuck − I'm dizzy −" He muttered, his stomach sore and clenched.

She rose from her seat as the doctors left Daeron's room, sighing heavily in relief when the woman explained that he had only been scared.

"Aemond!" He shouted when he saw that he was awake, riding up to him in his wheelchair, wiping his face red from tears.

"− I thought − I thought you had died − you weren't moving − w-we couldn't wake you up −" He mumbled, and he hugged his head to his chest, closing his eyes, stroking his soft hair with his large hand.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry − I've been working too much lately and I fainted −" He lied, swallowing loudly, his brother nodding his head in understanding, cuddling into him like a teddy bear. He kissed his temple, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He thought he needed to pull himself together.

"− Esmeralda said she would stay with us until Helaena arrives − now it's up to us to take care of you − lie here and don't worry about a thing −" He said in a voice hoarse from crying and patted his head – he felt a tightness in his throat at his words, his eyebrows arched in emotion, he smiled involuntarily, feeling his lower lip tremble.

"− then I'm in good hands −"

He watched wordlessly as the doctors and medics left their house, Daeron showing his Esmeralda where she could find clothes to change into – she appeared a few minutes later in his long black hoodie reaching halfway down her thighs, her legs wonderfully bare.

She bustled around the kitchen with Daeron, trying to make dinner – he couldn't get out of his awe at what a harmonious duo they were, his brother talking to her without shame or embarrassment.

If he had been wiser, if he had given her a chance then instead of humiliating her, maybe now they would be preparing dinner together.

He rose to sit down when she brought him tea and sandwiches, thanking her meekly. He sighed heavily feeling he wouldn't swallow anything and although the medications were starting to work, he felt like his head was going to burst.

She only returned to the living room after she had helped Daeron change into his pyjamas and put him to bed. She approached him hesitantly and sat down next to him on the couch, not looking at him but at the floor.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, covering her knees with the material of his sweatshirt.

He looked at her, silent for a long moment.

"Exactly as I should after what I did." He replied finally, not knowing how else he was supposed to call what he was feeling.

She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed in pain, regret and sadness in her gaze, but at the same time also some kind of concern.

He thought in disbelief that his fate mattered to her despite what he had done to her.

She lowered her gaze to her knees, fiddling with the material that covered her thighs in a nervous gesture.

"He needs you composed. Emotionally stable." She said sadly, her lips trembling.

He stared at her face unable to take his eyes off her, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch her, dreaming of her hugging him and locking him in her arms.

"I know." He said dryly, understanding exactly what she meant.

He couldn't be unpredictable, distracted while driving in the car, at work and on a daily basis.

Could not be distracted by her.

"Why did you do it? Then when I wanted to leave?" She finally asked in a voice quivering with grief, and looked at him, the depth of disappointment, sadness and emptiness in her bright eyes.

He licked his lower lip dry with stress and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pounding like mad as he stared straight into her face.

"Because I wanted to feel you. You were so sweet and soft. You were melting in my hands. I couldn't stop." He muttered at last, feeling with shame how pathetic that explanation was, thinking he was just a fucking pervert.

He drew in a loud breath as she slid the blanket off him and sat on top of him, pressing her buttocks against what was under his trousers – he wanted to grab her hips, feeling a rush of adrenaline from disbelief, but she grabbed his wrists.

"No. Don't touch me. If I feel your hands on my body I'll start screaming. I will tell Daeron everything you did to me and that you tried to do it a second time." She said with a seriousness from which his breath caught in his throat; he immediately placed his hands as before on either side of his body, watching in disbelief as her tiny fingers undid his button and zipper, his cock immediately swelled and began to pulsate, a loud shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

God, was she really going to do this?

As if in response to his thoughts, she spread the material of his trousers to the side and slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection, twitching with lust, the head of it pink and glistening. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, swallowing loudly when he felt her grab it's base with a gentle flick of her hand and direct its thick tip between her warm thighs.

She had no underwear underneath.

She lowered herself onto him a tiny bit, barely sinking the fat head of his cock inside her, teasing him with the lewd click of her moisture – the sight of him stretching her slit and how wet she was turned him on so much that a low, helpless groan escaped his throat.

"− be quiet or I'll stop − do you want me to stop? − you didn't give me that choice, but I'm not that cruel −" She said with regret as he shook his head quickly, feeling how desperate he was to feel her again.

"− please −" He heard his own pathetic voice, not believing he was allowing it, but he no longer cared what she would do to him, he wanted to fuck her in any way she would let him.

He felt some relief at the thought of being humiliated, he wanted her to do to him what he did to her even though he knew she didn't have his awful nature.

"− what are you asking me to do? −" She whispered softly, almost tenderly, as if her superiority over him was giving her back what he had taken from her, her power over her own body, over what was happening to her.

"− use me −" He breathed out in a voice hoarse with emotion, saw that something had changed in her gaze, her lips parted in a shuddering breath.

He clasped his hands on the fabric of the couch and leaned his head back, gasping out loud as he felt her let him all the way inside her, his hard, fat cock throbbed aggressively with desire squeezed wonderfully by her hot, tight walls – he knew he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment and that she felt it too.

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him, but not moving, waiting for his manhood to stop twitching inside her – her pretty, flushed face surrounded by her dark, shiny curls, her bright eyes fixed on him, her plump, swollen lips parted in a quickened breath.

"− use you? − mr. prosecutor wants to make me feel good? −" She asked in a whisper, her voice trembling with fear and arousal, as if she herself was shocked by what she was doing and by the fact that he was listening to her, by the way he was responding to her, by how much he desired her.

"− yes −" He mumbled out and closed his eyes with a low moan, feeling that with flick of her hips she slowly slid his cock out of her only to push it back in with a loud click of her wetness.

"− why? −" She exhaled, moving on top of him painfully slowly, her tight fleshy muscles giving him a wonderful squeeze each time she forced him back between her plushy folds, they both began to breathe louder and louder. He bent his legs at the knees, involuntarily tentatively responding to her thrusts with deep stabs of his hips.

"− God, don't you see that I crave you? −" He groaned low, with the last of his strong will restraining himself from tightening his hands on her buttocks and forcing her to move faster.

There was something wonderful about this slow agony, in the way she teased him, rubbing herself at the spot from which she felt the greatest pleasure, a sweet moan escaped her lips at his words.

"− are you always like this when you see me? − like you are now between my thighs? −" She mumbled in embarrassment, speeding up, their naked bodies began to slam against each other with splats of her moisture – he dared to buck into her harder, they both began to pant loudly, looking at each other with their mouths wide open, her lips puffy with desire.

"− of course − I jerk off every day thinking about you − fuck −" He muttered with difficulty, feeling the tickle and heat in his lower abdomen, his cock swelling with desire so much that he felt like it was about to explode if he didn't come inside her, their naked bodies slamming against each other.

He delighted in the sight of her throwing her head back at his words, her hot core pulsed hard around him, sucking him inside, her fingers clenched on the material of his sweatshirt, her buttocks slapping loudly against his thighs, soaking him all over.

"− touch me − touch me −" She cried out and he caught her quickly, one of his hands weaved into her hair and pressed her face against his, their lips joined in an aggressive, thirsty, sticky kiss, the fingers of his other hand clenched on the soft, firm skin of her ass.

They moaned loudly into each other's mouths as he began to pound into her like mad, almost not sliding out of her anymore – he embraced her and hugged her body to his, gripping her around the waist, her hands stroking his cheeks, his neck, his scar, his cock thrusting into her weeping folds twitching and throbbing like crazy.

"− fuck − fuck, baby, m gonna cum −" He babbled between the flicks of their lips, tongues and teeth. She gasped and came at his words with a loud mewl of surprise – he felt her moisture run down her thighs onto his lower abdomen, her muscles began to clench on him greedily, squeezing him wonderfully. He threw his head back and moaned in relief when he felt his warm seed spurt out inside her.

"− oh God − oh my fucking God −" He mumbled, experiencing such an intense orgasm for the first time in his life – for a moment he went dark before his eyes, he could see or hear nothing, there was only the wonderful hot pleasure spilling over his whole body, his hands clenched on her hot skin.

He hugged her close, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck, covering their bodies with his blanket, not wanting Daeron to accidentally find them in this position, while having no intention of changing it.

He felt wonderful.

He stroked her soft hair placing tender, wet kisses on her temple, his other hand trailing reassuringly down her back, feeling that she was trembling all over with emotion, unsure as he was of what had really happened between them.

"− sleep here, little one − I won't touch you against your will − I promise −" He whispered, but her silence answered him – she breathed loudly along with him, lying still, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

"− I know −" She replied quietly after a moment, rising on her shoulders, sliding him out of her with a soft motion of her hips, his hands clasped helplessly on her thighs.

"− please, don't go −" He muttered, looking at her in horror, his heart pounding like mad.

Please, let me go.

"− I'm sorry −"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please, let me go.

She rose from the couch, trembling all over, covering her thighs with his sweatshirt, his semen mingled with her moisture ran down her naked skin.

He wanted to touch her fingers but she turned and left the living room, hiding her face in her hand as if she was crying again, disappearing down the corridor.

"− I'll sleep in the free room next to Daeron's bedroom − I'll lock myself in − don't come to me and don't ever touch me again − we're even −" She said in a calm, quivering voice full of sorrow, sadness and emptiness.

He lay looking dully at the spot where she had stood just a moment before, feeling a squeeze in his throat – with trembling hands he slipped his boxers back on and zipped up his trousers, feeling tears of disappointment running down the sides of his face onto the pillow under his head.

We're even.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

261 notes · View notes

awakefor48hours · 1 year

Text

There’s a reason why people are so aggressive about still showing support to The Owl House despite the fact that it ended.

Disney has come out and said that they regret cancelling The Owl House, they’ve been selling more IPs lately, and *Bob Chapek has been fired from CEO and Bob Iger is back. The Owl House does have the capacity to come back. Keep showing support to the show. Watch the episodes available on YouTube. If you have a Disney+ account, watch it on there. Keep the fanbase alive. Keep showing your support.

*Back when Dana first pitched The Owl House, Bob Iger was the CEO of Disney. He loved the show and immediately signed off on two seasons. So the fact that Bob Chapek (someone who nuked the show) has been fired and Bob Iger (someone who greenlit two seasons of a show that didn’t even have a single episode out) is back shows some promising signs.

#toh #the owl house #dana terrace

708 notes · View notes

silvervioletvalentine · 11 months

Text

🦋!Starstruck! Part 2!🦋

Pairing: Max verstappen x Supermodel Cherrie

Word count: 7.3k

Summary: in which he’s her kind of boyfriend but not yet boyfriend . Featuring a night out with some horrifying realisations. He’s really gotta ask her to be his girl before somebody else does.

Warnings: none? Fluff mainly . I think. Idek. Not serious at all really. Enjoy, Bye bye!

Max was having a horrible , stomach turning, sinking feeling of regret over something that hadn't even happened yet.

They hadn't even made it to the club , where they were meeting a few of the other drives for a night out , and already he just wanted to drag home his beautiful, not girlfriend but really wanted her to be his girlfriend , but he was too damn chicken to fully ask her to make it official yet.

So really, it was his own fault that he was feeling so worried over how the rest of the night was going to go, because taking his supermodel , not yet girlfriend to get her drunk with Charles, Pierre and Lando , two out of the three that she had hooked up with before, was not leaving him with very good thoughts or feelings at all.

He was holding onto cherries hand tightly , lagging behind her as she practically dragged him down the darkened street to where the neon lit club was.

The closer they got , the more whinier max got too.

Cherrie was simply raising a perfectly shaped brow at her, totally not boyfriend, because the whimp had yet to ask her to be, kinda boyfriend .

Feeling like she knew had a extra child to deal with instead of one. sometimes it was easier to take her five year old daughter out than it was the world champion.

Really, it was no surprise that Star and Max now got along so well. The five year old now had a man child to play with. She was loving every minute of it, dragging max around with her everywhere and demanding he do this and that with her.

Everyday that he had taken star out for the day while Cherrie was busy doing photoshoots somewhere, he would spoil her already spoilt rotten child even more.

Just last weekend Cherrie had come home after a girls night with her friends to find max dressed in a pink , sparkly fairy costume while her five year old was dressed like Peter Pan. They had cut out a large black shadow from paper and attached it to the ceiling fan so that it spun around with them.

And well, Cherrie had been tipsy but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her not so boyfriend , but will be soon boyfriend , jumping off her expensive couches and landing face first onto the rug while dressed like tinkerbell.

Her daughter giggling hysterically as she jumped down onto his back and declared him 'dead' before ripping off his sparkly wings like the little psychopath that she was.

But she loved it. She truly did.

She loved seeing her usually hard to please daughter being so taken by max, despite the snarky comments and mean attitude she has, max had managed to match her personality perfectly. Now instead of one troubleMaker, she had two.

But one night , she just wanted one night out with him, no costumes and no kids clinging onto them like a baby monkey all day long. Max may have loved being followed around by little star twenty four seven, but Cherrie had put up with it for five long years.

And now she had finally, sort of , gotten herself a soon to be boyfriend , one that she wanted to go out and have fun with. To meet up with their friends and get drunk and do stupid shit while they were still young.

Was that really so much to ask for? Apparently the answer was a loud 'I want to go home!' From her anti social lover who would rather be cuddling with her five year old daughter , and watching Disney movies with her than hanging out with his own friends.

"Max! Stop whining . Otherwise I'll need to drink tequila instead of vodka just to put up with you!" She warned him, giving his side a little shove, grinning up at him as she tried to get him to cheer up.

Not understanding why he was already being so crabby , considering that she was the one currently on her period and feeling like her poor pelvis was being ripped out, yet she wasn't behaving like a baby.

Max frowned back at her, huffing as he pulled her into his side so that he could wrap his arm around her waist instead. Wanting to keep her close.

"You just want to see all your little boyfriends at once!" He scowled at her, grimacing to himself in misery the closer that they got to the club.

Don't get him wrong, he adored the fact that Cherrie was so free in her ways, that she didn't let socitial expectation pull her down. She did what she wanted, when she wanted without any hesitation.

She was loud, proud and free. Sometimes the blunt way she talked about things that most people were too uncomfortable to talk about, had even him blushing. Him! Who was as blunt as a fucking toothpick!

But it was different with Cherrie because she had absolutely no filter at all. She didn't even think before she said something, it just came out of her mouth without any fear of the consequences.

Most of the time it left max being the one to butt into the tense conversations she had accidentally made by running her big mouth off, swiftly changing the subject before she could get him into a fight with someone simply because she had pissed somebody off again for her own entertainment.

But max loved her and he would do anything for her, he adored all the good things and all the bad things. Loved that she was so comfortable in her sexuality and spoke her mind.

He just wished that she hadn't been so sexually free with two other f1 drivers as well.

It kind of made him want to tear their eyes out so that they could never look at her again, knowing that they knew what the love of his life's pussy felt like made him want to kill them both.

A bit of a exaggeration but still... Charles and Pierre had gotten to fuck his soon to be girlfriend , before he ever had.

It just didn't sit right with him at all.

So no, he really wasn't looking forward to spending the night with Them. Lando being the only driver there that she hasn't sucked tongues with.

He was feeling a little jealous and territorial. He just couldn't help it.

He was just a man. A man that was crazily in love with a crazily beautiful supermodel that was way out of his fucking league too. He was bound to be a little on edge, especially since, technically... she wasn't his girlfriend yet.

Even though they spent almost everyday together and star now had her own bedroom in Max's apartment too. He had met her family and she had met his. Their lives were intertwined perfectly , and anybody that saw them would assume that they were on the road to get married, unable to believe that they weren't even officially together yet.

Totally his fault but still... did he really deserve to be tortured with a night out with the two drivers that she had sex with before she met him?

Was this his karma for pushing Charles off the track that time?

Well, the asshole should call it even really. Max made him lose a race and Charles had his dick sucked by Max's dream woman. And soon to be girlfriend.

No. He wasn't bitter of jealous at all. Nada. He was feeling completely fine.

"I wouldn't say little.." Cherrie joked, unable to stop herself. Finding his petty jealously more than amusing.

She lived for drama, sue her. She was a top model , having men fighting over her was a beautiful plus side of her job.

Plus she knew that max was it for her, she could feel it in her heart and in her loins that she didn't , and wouldn't want anybody but him again.

Still, she couldn't help but tease him a little. She hasn't even known him when she had hooked up with Pierre and Charles .

She had still been in her hoe faze , tequila and beautiful European men? How could she ever say no to that?

She was but a woman. Who loved sex. Plus it was so long ago now. None of it mattered to her anymore , she could barely even remember the nights she spent with them. They had all been drunk .

Cherrie didn't need to drink any alcohol to get turned on by max . In fact , he was the only man that she had ever fucked while being completely sober. To her, that spoke volumes.

She loved him and she knew for a fact that he was in love with her too, she was simply just waiting for him to stop playing chicken and just make things official between them already.

But until he did, she was going to torture him a little.

Who knows, maybe it would help push the commitment on A little quicker .

She giggled to herself as she pulled max into the club, smiling prettily at the bouncers who easily let them past as soon as they saw her face.

Max was still pouting behind her, keeping a handful of the back of her dress in his hand so that he didn't lose her as she pushed through the crowed to get to the vip section.

"I could have stayed home making pasta necklaces with star." He grumbled with a deep frown on his face , watching cherries face light up as she spotted the drivers waving them over. "Why did I have to come?"

Cherrie just smirked at him as they climbed up the small stairs that led them to their private booth up top, waving at a excited Lando with a laugh.

"Because you're my ..." she let her words hang on as she side eyed max with a small smirk "friend." She said unable to keep a straight face.

Max immediately shot her a glare "do not call me your friend Cherrie." He snapped at her, rolling his eyes when she giggled slyly, simply shrugging her shoulders at him. Enjoying winding him up.

"Well, you know what you have to do. But until then.." she sighed dramatically , patting his shoulder "you're my best friend." She told him mischievously before quickly hurrying off to their table to greet their friends happily.

Leaving max to huff and puff his way over on his own, hating that she was right . He just needed to ask her to be his girlfriend , to never even consider touching another guy ever again.

So why was it so hard for him to do so?

He frowned as he watched Pierre and Charles immediately stand up to hug her affectionately. Their eyes never leaving her as they took in the supermodel in her tiny , silver slip dress .

"Cherrie! You look even more beautiful than the last time I seen you!" Pierre flatters her with compliments as he held her hand above her head, giving her a twirl as he admired her with a fond grin. The two having grown quite close during their own small 'adventure' together.

Cherrie just giggled, batting her eyelashes at him jokingly "I know, it's like magic. Everyday I just get hotter." She sighed as though it was a burden making them both laugh "it's a curse really. I mean how much hotter can I get?" She joked as she took a seat beside a grumpy max.

Charles laughed at her arrogance , used to it, passing her a tray with three shot glasses on it. Knowing that she wouldn't be wanting to leave this club sober tonight.

"I also ask myself that question everyday." He said struggling to Maintain a straight face. Picking up his own shot glass and tapping it against cherries as they both threw the vodka back into their mouths quickly.

Cherrie didn't even wince.

Instead she just picked up the next shot and downed that one too before seeing Max's wide eyes beside her as he watched her effortlessly down them all like it was water.

"You want one?" She offered to him, pulling landos tray over to them. Ignoring the loud 'hey!' She got from the driver, just sticking her tongue out at him like a child.

Max just shook his head , smiling a little as he gently brushed her long hair over her shoulder. Knowing how irritated she would get if the curls got stuck to her lip gloss again.

"Nope. I'm having a whiskey. Did you eat something before we came out?" He asked her in light concern knowing what a lightweight she was. Drinking on a empty stomach was a hard no.

Humming , she nodded her head . "Yeah. I had the last burrito that was in your fridge." She casually told him, knowing fully well that he had made it for himself.

Max looked at her in betrayal "my burrito? Cherrie.." he whined , running a hand over his face in exasperation.

"I made you pasta. You just needed to heat it up!" He exclaimed, more amused than anything because she always did this.

If she said she wanted pasta , she would take one look at his food and suddenly decide that she wanted what he was eating instead.

She just shrugged, both of them oblivious to the amused and surprised looks that they were getting from the other drivers at the table.

Charles looking on in disbelief at how close and familiar they were together , feeling as though he had missed a important chapter out of their book.

"I didn't want pasta anymore. I gave it to star instead. She loved it. Well done." She told him with a smile, picking up yet another shot and throwing it back quickly. Nodding her head along to the music that was playing in the club.

Max flushed from her simple praise, yet he still flicked her elbow with a slight scoff escaping him in disbelief.

"Then why did you ask me to make it then?! You could have just asked me to make you a burrito as well!" He exclaimed , not understanding women at all.

Cherrie rolled her eyes at him "it's not the same max. But it was a good burrito. If this racing thing doesn't work out you could totally become my personal chef. Id pay you well." She told him with a grin before finally looking away from him and noticing the looks that the others were giving them.

Pierre looked at them in shock "are you two-" he motioned between the two of them with his finger, eyes blown wide in disbelief .

Meanwhile max was chuckling to himself, shaking his head in amusement . "Racing thing." He repeated her words underneath his breath with a grin.

he was already her personal chef, Cherrie couldn't cook to save her own life. It was up to him to keep her and little star fed.

The poor kid had been eating frozen waffles and frozen pizza for far too long. Max enjoyed seeing the amazement on the five years olds face whenever he made her a new dish to try for dinner.

They had also made it a new little ritual for them to do when Cherrie was busy too, max would take them both out to different restaurants from different cultures and let her try new foods. She loved it.

Max just loved spending time with her. Even if the five year old still scared the absolute shit out of him sometimes. He was finding that her snarky, sarcastic and quite frankly mean, attitude was a perfect match for his own blunt , and also slight mean attitude too.

She was turning into a mini max and he loved it. Really he did.

Max looked over at Charles and pierre with narrowed eyes, speaking up before Cherrie could call them 'friends' again.

"We've been spending a lot of time together. We're taking it slow." He told them simply as he downed his own glass. Raising a eyebrow at Cherrie when she started giggling.

Smirking to herself in amusement as she leaned back in her seat, "yeah. He's gonna wait till I'm married and have my own kids , then he'll ask me to be his girlfriend." She joked, taking the piss out of him with a shit eating grin on her face.

Lando looked at max in disbelief "still? It took you months to say hello and now it's taking months to ask her to be your girlfriend?" He said out loud judgmentally "do you want me to ask her for you?" He offered with a cheeky grin on his face.

Max just rolled his eyes at him "no thank you. I'll do it when I'm ready thank you." He muttered , glaring over at the giggling idiots opposite him.

"Something funny?" He challenged them, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

Charles, never one to back down from pissing him off, merely smirked back at him and let out a amused laugh . Eyes flickering between the odd pairing in front of her, both amused and slightly (okay more than slighty) jealous , that max was the one that she had stayed for.

He really couldn't blame him of course, who wouldn't want a woman like Cherrie by their side? He was just shocked that a woman like Cherrie wanted a max by her side, when she could literally have anybody she wanted . Woman or man, she was the IT girl . The woman of every straight mans dreams.

And definitely a woman that had appeared in his own dreams over the years as well. Then he had gotten to meet her in what seemed so long ago now, having spent the night dancing and drinking in the New Years with her .

He had entered the new year with his head between her thighs , finally joining the mile high club after she had found out that he hadn't done it yet.

She had given him the best weekend of his life. So it was safe to say that he had been a little dejected and a little sad when he had woken up on that Monday morning to her side of the bed empty. Not even a note saying her goodbyes.

Charles had found out from Instagram that she had flown straight back home, and by the time he had managed to stumble his way back to the airport to fly home from Vegas , Cherrie had already been pictured in a different country with a different man.

Pierre had somehow managed to find her in a club and have his own fun weekend with the supermodel as well.

Charles hadn't known whether to laugh or cry when both the drivers found themselves pouting over lunch together as they complained to each other about how she had ditched the both of them without any hesitation once she had gotten her fix.

Which was apparently f1 drivers.

It was a little funny now. Not so much at the time since both pierre and Charles had been pussy drunk and convinced that she was the love of their lives that weekend. That they had a connection with her when she had just been playing them both to cure her own Boredom .

Because they had forgotten that girls were players too.

"I never thought I'd see you again after Vegas. I wasn't expecting you to show up with max of all people." Charles mused, looking between the odd pairing in front of him. Wondering what Cherrie even saw in max that she just hadn't seen in either him or pierre.

It certainly can't have been for his good looks, Charles didn't think of himself as arrogant but he liked to think that he beat max on the 'hot guy' scale. Thank you very much.

Cherrie just let out a giggle, already on her way to getting drunk as she emptied all of the shot glasses on the table without even blinking an eye.

Pushing her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder again, she smiled over at the Ferrari driver "the plan was to never see you again." She bluntly let him know, not meaning to be brash but just telling it as it is.

She looked between Charles and Pierre in slight amazement as she came to a conclusion , gasping out a little giggle .

No filter on her mouth whatsoever as she said what came to mind "isn't it a little weird that I've seen three out of four of you guys dicks?" She realised , laughing loudly when she caught the almost traumatised look on Max's face.

He pushed her shoulder scoldingly while Pierre and Charles giggled along with her. Enjoying the disgusted look on the redbull drivers face.

Pierre smirked "you did more than just look." He reminded her slyly.

Cherrie pointing at him with a large grin on her face "that's true! You know I didn't think that I had a type-" she said as she looked between the drivers around the table in amazement at herself "but clearly I do!" She exclaimed , kind of proud of herself for bagging such beautiful men.

"Don't sound so proud of yourself." Max grumbled to her with a scowl , glaring at her giggling figure beside him. Quickly pouring himself another glass of whiskey. Feeling his skin crawl at the thought of her with anybody that wasn't him.

Why , out ot all the drivers, did it have to be Pierre and Charles that she had hooked up with? The best looking ones on the grid.

He glared over at them as well, wishing that they were ugly so that he didn't have to worry so much.

Lando looked between all of them with a frown, wishing that he had been in Vegas with them.

"I'm feeling a little left out. I'm the only one who's dick you haven't seen!" He exclaimed with a slight pout, jokingly, trying to get a rise of out max.

It worked . Max immediately scoffed at him "and it's going to stay that way , shrimp dick!" He snapped at him.

Wishing that he had just stayed home and had a arts and crafts date with star instead . That sounded way more fun than this torture.

Cherrie was just giggling in her seat , humming along to the music , easily getting distracted as she looked down at the dancing crowd longingly . Sipping on the cocktail glass faster , wanting to have some fun.

"Can I volunteer cherrie?" Lando joked.

Max pushed him out of his chair with one smooth shove to his head. Before casually leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest , as though he hadn't flung poor Lando from his seat.

Lando was laid out like a starfish on the floor, everyone laughing as they looked down at him. Pierre taking pictures of Max's pissed off face and lando's gaping one as he looked at his friend in betrayal.

"Hey!" He whined as he pulled himself back into his chair, Cherrie patting the top of his head in sympathy. Straightening out his curls for him as she did so.

Max pulled a face at him "don't hey me! Stop making it sound like she's collecting drivers!" He exclaimed, looking at Cherrie. Expecting her to be upset or something.

Instead the love of his life was just giggling like a little kid. Cheeks flushed from the alcohol as she grinned at them all happily . Not ashamed at all.

"Like Pokemon cards!" She gasped out making the other theee drivers laugh hysterically .

Max wasn't as amused. Rolling his eyes at her as he pulled the bottle of tequila that Pierre passed her away from her reach, side eyeing the others with a grimace.

Knowing that's it was the tequila that had gotten her so horny last year that she had gotten herself a two for one with Charles and Pierre.

There was no way In hell that he was ever letting her drink that shit near them again. Or any other male athlete for that matter. He just didn't want to test his luck again.

She was finally, almost , his. He wasn't going to let some horn dog drivers get in his way of keeping Cherrie by his side forever . She was the woman he was going to marry someday, he was sure of it.

And just because she had sucked their dicks once or twice in the past, didn't mean shit to him. Because they only got a weekend with her.

He had the rest of his life with her if he was lucky. That was something to feel pretty smug about.

She hadn't walked out on him. Hadn't left on a Monday. He got her all week long.

Whenever , wherever. They were meant to be together. Just like Shakira said.

"I can't tell if you've downgraded or not over time. Weren't you collecting footballers a few years ago?" Lando asked her curiously , the two having become good friends. Because now that max was her, kind of boyfriend , Lando liked to tag himself along to their dates whenever he could.

Cherrie wasn't offended at all, she had been a hoe. There was no denying it. But a girls got needs and if men could fuck their way through the week then why couldn't she?

She was young, beautiful and had the head game of a pornstar. Of course men wanted her. She had it all.

But something had been missing in her life for so long and as she looked over at a pouting max beside her, she knew just what it was that she had been craving . Had spent so many times going through bodies and kissing someone else's lips in hopes to feel something different.

It was love that she wanted, love that she needed. And she had finally found it in a dutch driver that seemed like a grade a cunt but was actually as needy and lovable as her five year old daughter was.

He was everything that she never knew she needed. He fit into her and stars life perfectly, now all she was waiting for was for him to get over his little stage fright and ask her to be his officially.

Because she wasn't going to do it. Oh no.

She could. But she didn't want to. She wanted to see him sweat a little, to squirm in his seat as he realised that the only reason he had her right now was because she was choosing to stay.

She could have any man she wanted. Including the ones sat at the table with them. His own rivals on the track.

He needed to put in the effort if he was wanted to keep her because she knew her own worth , she knew what she deserved. And that wasn't to be strung along like someone's second choice.

She gave him a couple more hours and she was sure that she'd be leaving this club with a boyfriend , instead of a 'kind of boyfriend'. He just needed a little nudge and a little scare to help give him the confidence he needed to set things straight between them.

Cherrie hummed at landos musings, nodding along in agreement. "You're totally right. I used to be so obsessed with football players but now , apparently I like men who can't kick a ball to save their own lives." She giggled as Pierre and Charles immediately tried to defend their lack of football skills.

Charles looking offended "I can play! I'm just better as a ..." he struggled to find the correct word and excuse.

Max filled it in for him quickly "better not playing it to save yourself the embarrassment. Nobody wants to see you sweating on a field kicking about a ball!"

Cherrie tilted her head a little at that, letting out a little noise that had max looking over at her in disbelief .

Seeing the slightly sheepish biting of her bottom lip, he scoffed loudly . "You can't be serious Cherrie! When I played football with star you spent the whole hour laughing at me! That wasn't sexy for you at all!" He reminded her, scowling darkly .

Cherrie just laughed "that's because she beat your ass at it! Five to star, and zero to you!" She also reminded him smugly "plus you kept your shirt on...I might have felt different otherwise.." she sighed out dreamily, looking off into the distance as she pictures all the sexy drivers playing football shirtless together in the sun.

It was a nice little dream. Max didn't agree at all.

"It was fucking freezing Cherrie! You wouldn't have been turned on if my nipples froze and I had to get them cut off or something!" He snapped back at her throwing back his whiskey quickly . Missing star more and more.

He could have been making friendship necklaces out of pasta with her, but instead he was stuck watching the love of his life reminisce about fucking Pierre and Charles and daydream about them playing football without their shirts on.

Not his ideal night at all.

He felt like he was living in a nightmare. And another two glasses of whiskey later, Cherrie had finally had enough of them and wandered off to dance with some girls she had met in the bathroom. Leaving him to glare at the remaining drivers around the table coldly.

"So..." Pierre spoke up with a amused grin tugging at his lips. Finding this whole situation hilarious "is it an open relationship then? Because-"

Max inhaled sharply , ignoring landos giggles as he looked between them like he was watching a reality show. Having the time of his life soaking up the drama . Texting updates to the groupchat as the night went on, managing to sneak a picture of a scowling max looking like he wanted to murder Pierre to the group. Giggling to himself .

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I was you." He warned the Frenchman . All plans to play nice now far away from his mind.

Charles had his go at winding him up too "well mate, If it's still not serious between you two , I guess it's okay if I try again with her then? Refresh her memory of our amazing weekend together." He casually stated , a smug smirk on his face as he watched for the Dutchman's reaction closely.

All of them having had far too much to drink to realise that pushing each other buttons was not a good idea.

Max's face darkened as he immediately leaned over the table and lowered his voice threateningly "if you even so much as touch a hair on her head..I will Make sure that you never get on podium again. I mean it Charles." He hissed at him angrily, already twisting in his seat to look down at the dance floor , spotting Cherrie becoming shakira's twin as she shook her hips and danced erotically with her new girlfriends.

Max felt a small smile tug at his lips as he watched her kick some guy away from her with a judgmental look on her face , literally kicking him away with her heel. Not even giving the sucker a second glance before she turned her back on him and continued teaching her new friends how to belly dance.

Pierre hesitantly spoke up while Charles was too busy gaping at mAx with a glare , the two locked in a scowling contest apparently.

Lando snickering as he filmed the two of them without any shame, quickly texting Daniel what was happening next. Wishing that the Australian was there to witness this gold with him.

"And what about me?" Pierre wondered drunkenly.

Max didn't even hesitate "I will throw you into traffic." He told him without any remorse.

Lando gasping out a shocked laugh "max! A bit harsh mate!" He laughed as he patted poor Pierre on the back comfortingly .

"He's only joking. He wouldn't push you in front of a car. He'd be the one driving it." He unhelpfully said to him while smiling .

Max just shrugged "trying to steal my soon to be wife is a bit harsh! Don't you think?!" He shot back, the alcohol doing wonders for his jealously .

Charles let out a mocking laugh, just as drunk as he was . If they were sober, Charles wouldn't have dared to argue with him about Cherrie at all.

But vodka was a bitch and suddenly he was picking a fight .

"How are you ever gonna make her your wife when you can't even ask her to be your girlfriend? Seems like you only know fast on track mate! Cause you're slow as fuck off it! Snails pace!" He pointed at him.

Max slapped his finger away from his face , hard. Getting even madder. Lando was still giggling, looking between the two of them like a bouncing ball, while Pierre uneasily shuffled away , not wanting to get caught in the cross fire. But also not wanting to miss a single thing either.

"Maybe I'll take her to Vegas and marry her there. Maybe I'll book the same suit you had there. Ill fuck her in Same bed that she left you in without a single goodbye!" He brutally reminded him of her quick escape .

"How hard did you cry, mate?!" He mocked back to him as he shoved himself up to his feet in anger.

Charles quickly copying him as they both clenched onto the back of their chairs to stop themselves from falling over , too drunk to realise that trying to fight eachother in a club over a supermodel who only had one man on her mind, was not a good idea.

Oh well.

"Fuck you! She liked me well enough to entertain me the whole weekend!" Charles Shouted at him, ignoring Pierre pulling at his shirt and telling him to sit back down. Lando slapping his arm and telling him to leave them, to let them fight it out 'like men'.

Max saw red "entertain you?!" He repeated with a disbelieving laugh, furious "she's not a fucking comedian for your entertainment Charles!" He shouted back at him.

Glad that they had the private vip booth to themselves so that he could scream at him all he wanted without anyone butting in.

Charles , drunk and smug and lacking common sense. Couldn't help but Antagonise him further "oh trust me I know. There's nothing funny about the way she squirted all over my face when my tongue was in her pussy-"

Lando let out a girly screech, jumping out of the way with wide eyes as they watched max jump across the table and tackle Charles to the floor.

Pulling at his hair and slapping him while Charles smacked him back , the two of them fighting like teenagers girls in high school. Pulling hair and ears , different curses in different languages filling the air around them.

"Oh shit!" Lando laughed as he watched max pinch Charles nose, hard. The Ferrari driver squeaking as he tried to kick him off, Pierre quickly grabbing onto his best friend to pull him away.

Lando didn't bother pulling max away, too busy filming them to send to Danny. Still

Giggling away, throughly enjoying the drama.

Pierre , bless him, was trying to keep them separated ar arms length. His hair a mess as he dodged Charles swinging hands as he cursed out max in both french and Italian .

"Guys come on!" He drunkenly tried to be the peacemaker . Hand on either one of their shoulders to keep them apart , looking between the two of them with blearily eyes "we've all had beautiful-sexy-really hot sex with cherrie. We should be grateful that she gave us all the best nights of our lives! So let's not fight." He said to them, trying to make things better.

He only made things worse.

Max slowly turned his head to look at Pierre in absolute disbelief. Unable to believe what he was hearing.

"I'm going to kill you." He told him calmly before pulling the Frenchman down with him, a girly screech escaping him as he did so

"Not my hair!" He shouted in panic . As they all started fighting on the floor, rolling around and laying bitchy slaps on each other like children.

Meanwhile Cherrie had gotten bored of dancing and came back to the vip section, her eyebrow rising as she looked at the three drivers wrestling on the floor. Casually stepping over them as she held tightly onto her champagne glass, heading over to sit beside Lando .

"What's going on?" She asked him curiously as she leaned back in her seat, pulling her heels off her aching feet for a moment . Pulling out her phone to check the time.

Lando was surprised by how unbothered she seemed, not a ounce of shock or surprise on her face as they both watched max pull Pierre by his ear and Charles by his hair, threatening them in a mixture slurred Dutch and English.

"They're fighting over you." He told the supermodel.

She just nodded her head casually "oh yeah that happens a lot. It was the same with the football players. Lots of noses ended up broken. So dramatic! And they say women are the emotional ones." She tutted, taking a sip from her champagne as she typed out a text to reply to her other model friends asking her if she was going to fashion week.

Both Cherrie and Lando continued to make casual conversation between them while the other three drivers were fighting in front of them. Charles somehow managing to get max in a headlock while Pierre was hastily trying to fix his ruined hair.

Lando hesitated for a moment before asking her quietly "are you- is this serious for you?" He wanted to know "because max is my friend and I don't want you to break his heart. He really loves you cherrie." He told her sincerely.

Cherrie whole being softened as she let out a small smile , laughing lightly as she gazed at max with love in her heart, body and soul.

"I am. I want to fuck him for the rest of my life. I want the sex, the sunrises and the late night talks. I want it all with him Lando." She admitted to him "I love that idiot." She said , meaning it with her whole heart.

Letting out a loud laugh as she watched max grab a drink from the table and throw the champagne all over Charles face ,

"I taught him that move! I did it a few weeks ago to this bitch that called max talentless! She was crying champagne the whole night." She proudly

Told him before finally getting to her feet and breaking them up before any actual damage could be done.

"Okay baby that's enough! Don't waste anymore of that champagne! We can take it home with us!" She shouted at them, pulling max away by his arm like he was a child. Reminding her of when star would throw a tantrum in a store and Cherrie would have to quickly haul her ass out of there.

Max huffed loudly as he turned to look down at her with a scowl "okay that's enough! I've had it with all these dickheads thinking that they've got a chance with you!" He snapped , pissed off and at his wits end.

He took her by her hand and pulled her closer to him , smoothing her hair away from her face as he tried to calm the erratic racing of his heart. Kicking the back of Charles leg so he would stay down without even looking at him.

Cherrie just laughed, looking up at max with a knowing smirk on her face.

"Can I please be your boyfriend? And then your husband at some point?" He pleaded to her, having enough. His fear of rejection gone, too pissed off by Charles comments to hesitate in asking her now.

And it may not have been romantic and it may not have been the best setting to ask her to be his girlfriend, but it did the trick.

Cherrie just laughed and hugged him to her side, giving him a soft kiss to calm him down. Stoking his red cheeks as she pushed his sweaty hair from his face , completely in love with him.

"Sure. Sounds fun." She simply replied, it was that easy. That simple.

Max let out a loud cheer, kissing her again before turning on his feet to grin down at Charles and Pierre smugly .

"Ha! See! All mine!" He laughed in their faces, feeling smug . A weight lifting from his shoulders as he felt her kiss his bicep , her smile directed to him, and him only.

"I win! You lose! I fucking told you! Third times the charm I guess!" He grinned to himself as he tugged on cherries hand to pull her along with him, wanting to ger her home so that he could show her just how happy he was. To show her just how much he loved her without saying a single thing.

"We need to do a photoshoot of our own. Then I'm going to have it blown up on the billboards outside their apartments. Rub it in their stupid faces ." He rambled to her as they waited for their Uber to arrive once he ordered it on his phone . Far too drunk to drive himself, and Cherrie wasn't doing much better either.

With his arm around her shoulder firmly ,she leaned into his side with a content sigh, beaming up at him before biting his bicep gently , heart so full of love for him . Giggling quietly when he flicked her forhead in retaliation. Used to her strangeness by now.

"We could do a nude photoshoot." She suggested to him, wrapping her arms around his waist to cuddle into him. Max squeezing her gently as he kissed the side of her head.

"Absolutely not . They've already seen enough of you naked. Never again." He muttered while stroking his fingers through her hair , knowing how much she liked it.

"I'm going to send them a thousand copies of an X-ray of my ass. With a note telling them to kiss it." He said just as their Uber finally pulled up.

Wrapping his jacket around her to keep her warm as they both stumbled over to their ride, max placing his hand ontop of her head so that she didn't bump it, not moving until she had slid into the seat safely, before sliding in beside her, buckling her belt.

"I love you ya know?" Max told her quietly after a few minutes of quietness between them, both of them fighting not to nod off into a alcohol induced sleep.

Her head falling onto his shoulder as she let out a tired laugh. Kissing his shoulder gently as they snuggled into eachother in the backseat of the car.

"I know." She felt it in everything he did to make her happy. "and I love you. Nobody compares to you for me max. I mean it." She assured him just as quietly , he had her entire heart.

That was more than enough for him. Smiling tearfully to himself as he let out a sigh of pure happiness , holding her close and never wanting to let go again.

They may have had her for a weekend but max had her for the rest of their lives and ever after.

Charles was wrong. He was winning on and off the track too.

He had the most beautiful woman in the world curled up in his lap, kissing his jaw and promising him forever.

He won. Always and forever .

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen oneshot

351 notes · View notes

caplanbuckybarnes · 1 month

Text

Caplan's Disney Celebration

Rules:

You don’t have to follow me, but its definitely encouraged!

PLEASE use a summary!!

If the fic is more the 300 words, use a keep reading feature!!!

Tag the challenge as #

There’s no limit how many prompts you can chose!

Tag my url & the challenge name in the a/n’s note before the fic along with the hashtag please!

No due dates

Any character you’d like to write for!

once a fic has been given to me, they will be placed in a masterlist

If i do not respond to your fic within 24 hours of posting, PLEASE message me a link!!

Dialogue Prompts

"Take it with you so you'll always have a way to look back ... and remember me."

"Have you ever seen something so wonderful in your entire life?"

“How did you survive being locked up in a castle for all this time?”

“What do you mean, you’re the lost princess?”

"Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten"

“It’s called a cruel irony, like my dependence on you.”

“I warn you child. If I lose my temper, you lose your head. Understand?!”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t turn your back on me.”

“A true loves kiss. If only there was someone out there who loved you.”

"Today is a good day to try"

"Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours"

"If you ain’t scared, you ain’t alive"

"Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So, today is my new favorite day"

"He fell into despair, and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

“You really shouldn’t come back here, you know. It’s not safe.”

“I told you to stay away from this wing!”

“He was this close—just staring at me.”

“Do you trust me?”

“(And) You will always be in my heart.”

“I especially love his smile.”

“New and a bit alarming.”

“Now kiss her.”

“How can I prove myself if no one will give me a chance?”

“People around here think I’m crazy, but I don’t care.”

“I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.”

“Guys….I want a castle.”

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”

“When I look at you, I can feel it. I look at you, and I’m home.”

“Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be than me.”

“It was worth it…if you learned something from it.”

“You deliberately disobeyed me.”

“I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“How could you do that to me?”

Song Lyric prompts

“And I’ve got friends on the other side.” - Dr. Facilier, “Friends on the Other Side”,

“But you’ll be rewarded when at last I am given my dues. And injustice deliciously squared! Be prepared.”

“I admit that in the past I’ve been a nasty. They weren’t kidding when they called me, well, a witch.”

“If she doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.”

“I’ve reached the top and had to stop and that’s what botherin’ me.”

“Ain't got time for messing around”

“People down here think I'm crazy”

“I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine.

“Don’t forget it, you’ll regret it.”

“Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart”

“Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me”

“I was the master of my fate.”

��I learned the truth too late.”

“I let her steal into my melancholy heart.”

“I'm where I'm meant to be”

“He has never been one of us.”

“Now I know she’ll never leave me.”

“I should thank you...but it’d be more fun to kill you.”

“This crown gives me a feeling of power!”

“It’s not my fault, I’m not to blame”

“He asked for trouble the moment he came”

#CaplansDisneyCelebration

87 notes · View notes

it-happened-one-fic · 16 days

Text

A Cinderella Fairytale - Deuce

Author Notes: @miriamladyvoid So this is the selection from my 600 followers event that corresponds to the book you chose (A book that has been lovingly re-covered in now sun-faded fabric). i wrote this while listening to "Lavender Blue" from Disney's Live action Cinderella (2015) OST. I kept this one as a female reader as well since that was what was in your request. I hope you enjoy!

600 followers event!

Type: female reader/ fluff/ romance/ charming fairytale in a book that has been lovingly re-covered in now sun-faded fabric/ Isekai

Word count: 2416

I exhaled, scrubbing the floor that magically seemed to gain more filth each time I blinked.

Never had I so regretted touching a book as I regretted touching the one that had transported me into this fairytale world that was a little bit too much like Cinderella for my liking. Especially considering I was the one in the role of Cinderella.

I should've known to be wary of the enchanted books Crowley had told me to take to the library for safe storage. If I had, then maybe I would have found myself getting transported to a magical world that wasn’t my own or Twisted Wonderland.

Of course, I hadn’t exactly been planning on opening one of the books. One of them had just slid off the top of the stack and fallen to the ground, opening as it did so.

I’d frowned at the book covered in sun-faded fabric that obviously hadn’t been original to it as I sat down on the other books before kneeling and slowly picking the book upright as Deuce had come into the room behind with yet another stack of books.

I’d barely even gotten a chance to glance up at the young man as a flash of light sparked out from the book, causing the young man to shout in surprise before everything had faded into darkness and I’d woke up here.

I hadn’t woken up with no clue as to where I was. The enchantment on the book had been kind enough to give me all of the information regarding my character’s backstory.

And it was almost exactly that of Cinderella. Meaning that I was essentially trapped in a retelling of one of the world’s most famous fairytales known to man.

The only real comfort was that, at the very least, Deuce had no doubt seen me get sucked into the book.

He would go and get help; I knew he would, and as soon as they could figure out how, I trusted that my friends would get me out of this book and back into Twisted Wonderland.

But up until then, my best options seemed to be filling my role and playing the part of Cinderella. Which included servitude to my apparent stepfamily.

“You still haven’t finished cleaning the floor, Ashes? You won’t be able to go to the ball at this right!” My supposed stepsister trilled at me from the upper staircase, and I twisted to look up at her.

I had to hand it to her and my stepmother, who stood behind her with a faux-disappointed expression; they weren’t going with the classic nicknames of ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Cinders.’ Instead, they referred to me as ‘Ashes.’

I watched as my stepmother shook her head, her lips pulled together in a pout, “Really, dear, I would have thought you would know this by now. If you try to clean the floor while covered in filth, then you’re only going to spread filth around.”

I glanced down at my clothes, which were not, in fact, covered in filth but were considerably stained. I nodded nonetheless, my fingers curling into the filthy rag I was using to clean, “Yes, ‘Mother.’”

I heard the tapping of heels, and then my chin was lifted by a fan so that I was looking up into my stepmother’s face, which was just a little bit too red to be colored by blush alone, “I told you to call me ‘Duchess,’ Ashes.”

I pulled my mouth up into a fake smile, “Yes, of course, Duchess.”

She let out a hum before twisting to look up at the clock and tutting lightly, “It is far too late for you to join us at the ball, Ashes. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay behind tonight.”

I twitched slightly at her words, indignant on my character's behalf. For tonight, she said. More like for the rest of your existence.

I wasn't particularly looking forward to meeting the prince charming of this story, but I was looking forward to my entrance at the ball. At the very least, I would get to see her shocked and dismayed face then. Though that was only a little comfort, considering it wasn’t actually going to be ‘Ashes’ who finally bested this woman.

The fan was yanked from under my chin, and she made sure to drag its sharp corner along my skin before finishing pulling it away as she smiled at me, “Be sure to finish your chores, ‘Dear.’”

She stepped away, turning in a swirl of rich but gaudy fabrics as I watched her stalk out of the kitchen and to her smirking daughter’s side, “And remember, tomorrow the prince will be visiting to declare his intentions to my daughter.”

My daughter. Not your sister.

But that was fine. In no way did I want to be accused of being related to the caution orange monstrosity of tulle that was the wicked step-sister of this tale.

I bowed my head, idly wondering what my fairy godmother would look and be like as I murmured my response, “Yes, Duchess.”

The two women left, trailing shrill laughter behind them as they swept out of the room, and I sat back.

As I recalled, the fairy godmother usually showed up right after Cinderella’s heart was broken, which did make me wonder if she would even show up.

According to the plot, she should, but I was hardly heartbroken.

But that was fine. I’d found a dress in the attic that was a perfect match for my size that was no doubt left by the previous lady of this house.

Ashes’s mother.

Changing didn’t take long, and I glanced at the clock as I walked through the house. The only question now was how, exactly, I was going to get to the palace without a pumpkin carriage to take me there.

I stepped out of the house, glancing around and feeling my eyebrows raise as I spotted a carriage that was parked right outside the house. A little bit too handy to be a coincidence, as the man in front waved me over.

“You must be a lady of this house. We’ll have to hurry to get you to the ball on time, my dear,” He smiled warmly, and I felt myself grin back at him before clambering into the carriage and sitting as it took off.

I frowned at the box next to me, though, immediately suspicious as I leaned out the window, “This box… Are you delivering it?”

The man shook his head, “No, ma’am, that would be for you. Some faerie stopped by and left it here, saying the lady who took this carriage to the palace would need it.”

I frowned at it, feeling my eyebrows lift before I carefully opened the box to reveal delicate glass slippers.

I felt myself laugh slightly; I supposed it wouldn’t really be a Cinderella fairytale without at least one gift from a fairy godmother after all.

And, just like a perfect fairytale, they fit like a dream and were impossibly comfortable despite their design.

I found myself shaking my head and smoothing back out the full, layered skirts of my dress, idly wondering about what this prince charming was going to be like.

Probably perfectly handsome, in a brilliant white suit, and totally at odds with the young men I’d gotten so used to being around at NRC. And there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, that would make him someone that I’d want for this story’s protagonist.

Ashes deserved someone who would be good to her in ways that she had experienced since her childhood, when her father and mother were still alive.

It didn’t seem like I’d been in the carriage hardly anytime at all when it rolled to a stop and the coachman leaned around, a smile on his face that somehow reminded me of Cater, even though he looked nothing like the ginger-haired young man, “Here’s your stop, ma’am. And good luck on winning the prince’s heart.”

I felt myself smile at him as I stepped out of the carriage, noticing that its roundness really did make it appear like a pumpkin.

“It looks like I’m going to be fashionably late,” I was surprised to find that I felt oddly nervous as I looked up at the grandiose staircase that led up into the sparkling palace just ahead.

He leaned down, winking at me lightly, “All the better for making an entrance, I say. Now, farewell, my lady.”

And with that, he snapped his reins once, and the carriage pulled away as I started up the staircase, at first slowly and then trotting, as my skirt fanned out around me.

Sets of doors after sets of doors were opened for me as I hurried through the palace, idly checking clocks as I went. Even I knew that the magic would wear off at midnight, and if I wanted this story to move forward, I needed to meet the prince before then, at the ball.

And right now, even as I filled the role of the princess in this story and even looked the part for once, ending this story was still my best chance of returning home outside of relying wholly on my friends to get me out.

I found my pace slowing, though, as I approached a particularly ornate set of double doors in front of which two men stood. Both of them looked my way and nodded slightly before they opened the doors silently for me. Revealing the glittering spectacle of a ball that was spread out in front of me as I walked out on a dais from which two sets of stairs fanned out.

I could see the musicians getting ready, but they obviously hadn’t started playing yet, which meant I’d made it before the prince had made his choice of partner.

I swallowed thickly, letting one hand rest on the stair’s gently curving rail while the other reached to lift my skirts, just enough for me to slowly step down the stairs and the rest of the way into the brightly lit ballroom.

I exhaled softly, bracing myself to meet Prince Charming when I saw him, and somehow, instead of being surprised, I only smiled.

His eyes were wide as he took a few, almost hesitant steps towards me before he smiled in return from across the room.

Guests parted around him, their confusion evident as he walked towards me at my quick pace and heads turned, their eyes landing on me as he slowed and came to a gentle stop right in front of me, “I finally found you.”

His voice was so soft, and I laughed slightly, shaking my head in slight disbelief until I found my voice, “Deuce… I didn’t even know you were here. Did you get sucked into this story at the same time I did?”

He nodded, glancing down and making a slight face before he looked up at me once more, “Yeah… I’ve been looking for you ever since so we could get out of here, but I’ve also been getting forced to act like a prince…..”

He trailed off, and I laughed slightly, tilting my head at him, “Well, you look like a perfect prince.”

He brightened at my words, though he also looked a little bashful before he nodded slightly, “And you look like a real princess, Y/n!”

He reached out, taking my hands in his, and I heard music start up almost immediately, causing my eyes to widen and glance over towards the musician right as one of the men from the top of the staircase spoke up, “His Highness has chosen his partner!”

I looked back towards Deuce, only to find him looking around just as startled as I was, “I don’t know how to dance though….”

I squeezed his hands lightly, pulling his gaze back to me with just that slight gesture, “Hey, we’ll do it together.”

I watched as he blinked at me slightly before nodding, a determined glint entering his gaze, “Right, together.”

And with that, we shifted, spiraling across the floor with unpracticed motions that somehow seemed oddly perfect. They fit the two of us. Two people who weren’t originally from this story but had still ended up swept up in the tale.

As the music trailed off, we came to a slow stop, with his arms wrapping around me as we both laughed slightly. Perhaps from the giddiness of having danced in front of an entire group of people, or maybe from the ridiculousness of us being in a fairytale such as this one.

And then, as I leaned against him, the lights seemed to brighten and turn the entire ballroom white.

I closed my eyes, pressing my face into Deuce’s shoulder as his grip on me tightened until, at last, I chanced opening my eyes only to find the glittering spectacle of the ballroom gone.

I sat back, startled, and my motions caused Deuce to jolt slightly, his own eyes opening as we looked up at the Heartslabyul students around where we knelt on the floor of the school’s library.

“Guys! How-”

“We just closed the book,” Ace was shaking his head at us, his arms crossed as he looked down at us, and I blinked as his stare shifted over to Deuce and he snorted.

“Next time, instead of diving in after the Prefect, use your head, and maybe they won’t be trapped in a book for so long.”

Deuce frowned, straightening from his seated position, “Hey! I had to do something!”

And just like that, the two of them started bickering. But I felt a light tap on my shoulder that had me turning as Cater smiled down at me, “So what was being a princess like?”

I blinked at his words before a smile slowly started to crawl across my face, half in amusement and half in genuine happiness that I’d gotten to experience such a magical little story.

I looked over at Deuce as I smiled, realizing I’d probably never get to see him dressed up like a prince or dance with him like that ever again. And those, at the very least, were two memories I’d treasure for the rest of my life.

And when I answered Cater, I was still smiling, half-wishing we could have made it to the end of the story. It had felt like we’d only just gotten to the good part after all.

“Like a fairytale.”

65 notes · View notes

mooncalf87 · 24 days

Note

Could ask about some headcanons on Rosoie and Alastor's beginnings in friendship?

YESYESYESYEYSSYYAGARTAD (explodes)

Rosie and Alastor becoming friends HCS!

They knew each other sense around 1934, but didn't really acknowledge each othwrs presence until 1950

They met at an overlord meeting

They actually hated each other in the beginning. Tried to one up each other for a solid decade until they were sent on an overlord heist together and bonded

FINALLY became friends in 1959, a good 25 years after they met.

They immediately hit it off once they bonded. Gossip girlys. The heist they were sent on was actually a failed mission because they kept getting too damn distracted

Once they became friends there was no looking back. They were the overlord power duo. Carmilla, the one who had sent then on that heist together, regrets every decision she has ever made.

When they became friends Rosie was married to a man named Henry, who was an absolute Susan-ish BITCH, so alastor helped her get rid of her

Murder besties from day one. These two are unstoppable if you put them into a room together with some weapons

Rosie got married again in 1964 (alastor called her a crazy bitch. (He was right too this guy was a jackass))

When the Disney movie "Pinocchio" made its way into hell with the sinners, they watched it together. Were absolutely terrified. They have seen the horrors that come with cannibalism and murder, but nothing could have prepared them for THAT.

They got legally married in 1971. It was a good way to fend off unwanted sutors from rosie

Once the new/proper LGBTQ terms finally started making their way into hell Rosie was HOOKED. She tried to educate alastor (he didn't listen. At all.)

They actually lived together in the apartment above Rosies Emporium for a while. A good twenty years before Alastor disappeared and then showed up at the hotel. Rosie never got rid of any of his things once he left. He still have a spare radio recording room in her hall closet.

Annnnddd that leads us to present day!!

I take any hc requests!! Check my pinned post! :3

#the pinniccio one is so random #i watchrd thst movie the other day #i had a nightmare last night about it #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #cannibal rosie #rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #rosie hazbin hotel #rosie headcanons #overlord rosie #rosie the cannibal #hazbin hotel headcanon

54 notes · View notes

pinkroseblooms · 3 months

Note

Thank you thank you so much for taking my request! I wish there were more Bucchigiri fics out there. I love it so far! Matakara needs more love! And Shindo being a rival is perfect!

I'm glad you're enjoying it! Here's part 2! (ngl this might end up being a 4 or even 5 part story. I'm getting invested)

A Whole New World! An Unknown Admirer and an Unknown Enemy!

Matakara/f!Reader/Shindo, Pt.2

Summary: Your first day at Ichizu high has finally arrived! As you take the next step towards your long awaited fresh start, Matakara reflects on the past and looks forward toward a future with you and him, finally no longer separated. Meanwhile, Shindo is making plans of his own... wc: 2.6 a/n: There's a lot of references from Disney's version of Aladdin because of course there is. Enjoy!

“Arajin, you couldn’t have done worse if you had thrown the rock at her head.”

“It was supposed to be romantic! What do you know?” Arajin has half a mind to drop the book bag he had offered to carry for you. “It’s not like you have any experience.”

“I have common sense.” You retort lightly. “If you want to get anywhere with this Mahoro, you can’t ignore her feelings. Reign it in and don’t be so pushy.”

“Yeah, I know.” Arajin hangs his head, trudging alongside you; his frown only grows deeper as the school gates come into view. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up for lunch?”

“What, you’re not eating with your girlfriend?”

“Ha ha.” Arajin hands over your bag, shouldering his own with a yawn. “Listen, keep a low profile, okay?” He scans the entrance gates with narrowed eyes. “It’s a mad house but you should be fine if you keep your head down and…keep close to Matakara.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Is that your way of giving us your blessing?”

“Ugh, stop! Look, if people know you’re cool with him, they’re not going to bother you.”

“Maybe you ought to take your own advice; stop being such a big baby and start talking to him again.”

“Dammit, will you butt out?”

“I’m only saying, it’s obvious Macchan cares a lot about you. Can’t you just-?”

“Isn’t it bad enough we had to come back here?” Arajin cuts you off tersely. “The past is the past. Drop it.”

“Fine.” Your hand tightens around the strap of your book bag and you pointedly turn away to the Ichizu high’s doors. “I’m sorry I messed everything up for you. I didn’t ask to be here either, but I am and I’m going to make the best of it. If you ask me, the only one hung up on the past here is you.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like-”

“I’ll see you at home.”

You don’t give Arajin a chance to say anything else, opting to hurry off to your homeroom, wherever it was; the map Arajin had sketched out for you was still in your bag’s front pocket, but you didn’t want to do anything to slow down. You had to get away from him and the regretful look on your brother’s face. Even if he’s sorry, you can’t stand Arajin’s stubbornness; your nerves are rubbed raw and all you want to do is get through this day quickly. After the first day, surely you’ll feel more at ease being back in a classroom with other people. You don’t need your brother lecturing you to add to your anxieties.

“Good morning!”

You flinch; you were hoping you wouldn’t run into Matakara before getting settled. As soon as you see him speed walking down the hall towards you, two unfamiliar boys trailing after him, all you can think about is how nice it would be to latch onto him and stick by his side for the remainder of the day.

“Good morning.” You wave and attempt a smile. “Hey, am I anywhere close to 2-C?”

“Sure, I’ll walk you.” Matakara skids to a halt in front of you, bright eyed and breathing a touch labored. “I can give you a tour later. These are my friends, Zabu Kakeru and Sakigake Komao, we’re all in the same class as Ara-chan.”

“I apologize in advance for any trouble my brother might cause.” You tell them with a sheepish smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yo.” Zabu regards you curiously. “You’re that shrimp’s sister?”

“Huh, I was expecting you to look prettier.” Sakigake looks you up and down. “Matakara wouldn’t shut up about you all week, so I kinda assumed you’d be a supermodel or something.”

“Hey, knock it off!” Matakara looks at you with a shaky smile. “He’s kidding, really, I was just telling them how we went way back and, er, you know, I was excited we’d finally be going to the same school.”

“You already seem less annoying than Shorty.” Zabu smirks at you from over Matakara’s shoulder. “Where is the brat anyway?”

“I told my brother dearest I could find my own way to my homeroom. He’s probably already in his class now.” You unzip your bag’s front pocket and take out a folded up piece of notebook paper. “I’m guessing he didn’t make the best impression.”

“Aw, don’t listen to Zabu, he skipped breakfast.” Matakara sidles up to you, looking over your arm to scan the crudely drawn map. “Did Ara-chan make this?”

“You can tell?” You’re a bit impressed. “I guess it looks pretty similar to those old treasure maps he’d make up. See?” You move in closer to show Matakara the place Arajin had marked your classroom with a big, bold ‘x’. “X marks the spot.”

“Thi-this looks about right, but it only shows you how to get to your homeroom.” Matakara moves back a few steps. “Why don’t you let us show you around?”

“Us?” Sakigake grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Sweet, now we have a reason to cut class!”

“Since when do we need a reason?” Zabu snorts. “I wouldn’t mind ditching the first period.”

“Um, I really shouldn’t.” You speak up carefully. “I don’t know if Macchan told you, but I’m a bit easily winded. I wouldn’t want to slow you guys down and I really should stick to my schedule.”

“Lame.” Sakigake pouts. “Matakara said you were cool.”

“He did?” You eye your old friend with a half smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, but believe me, he’s exaggerating.”

“We could give you a tour during lunch.” Matakara offers, face flushing slightly. “I was hoping we could all hang out, maybe do something after school? You said if we ever attended the same school we’d do stuff together, like get lunch or study and all that…”

“I did?”

Matakara nods quickly. “You pinky swore.”

“Well, I can’t break a pinky promise.” You’re beaming; somehow, he always knows just what to say to get you back in good spirits and you feel like you’ve gotten your second wind. “Alright, I’ll drop by your homeroom for lunch period, but if you change your mind and just want to be with your buddies-”

“Not a chance; I want you to get the whole high school experience! We’re all going to grab food at the cafeteria and picnic on the rooftop, you’ll see, it’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

You don’t need convincing. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you at lunch then.”

“Awesome.” Matakara grins. “No take backs, okay?”

You make your way to your homeroom, waving over your shoulder at the three boys; when you turn the corner, Zabu and Sakigake glance at one another as Matakara stands there, hand still waving despite you not being in his line of sight any longer. The expression on his face is similar to one might make if they were beat silly over the head a dozen times with a sack of bricks.

“Why do I feel like we’re gonna be third and fourth wheels?” Sakigake leans over to whisper in Zabu’s ear. “Cause I won’t be able to keep my lunch down if those two start going at it at his desk.”

“Ew.”

“Sorry guys; you don’t mind me volunteering you for the tour, do you?” Matakara finally regains some semblance of awareness and smiles at the two boys bashfully. “She’s putting on a brave face, but I know she’s feeling nervous being here.”

“It’s fine.” Zabu shrugs. “Are you sure she’d want to hang around with us though?”

“Huh? Of course.” Matakara says simply. “You guys are awesome”

“Cut the crap.” Zabu crosses his arms, but he can’t contain a small smile.

“Zabu, Sakigake, I really would appreciate you guys helping me make her feel welcome here.” Matakara grins softly. “I guess I’m hoping if anything happens, you two will have her back like how we look out for each other. I’d like that.”

“Alright, alright, we gotcha.” Sakigake thumps Matakara on the back between his shoulder blades. “Let’s see how things go; you know, she might end up making friends in her class though?”

“Oh, right.” Matakara hadn’t really thought of that. “I guess. But until then, I want to do as much as I can to help her until she’s settled. She’s a really good person, you’ll see when you get to know her a bit.”

Matakara remembers you were all but bedridden and barely able to walk past your own front yard for most of the time he knew you; if he wanted to see you, he would have to go to your bedside or sit with you in the backyard where Yayako had planted you a small plot of veggies to help keep you occupied. You spent a good amount of time there, trying to soak in the sun and the fresh air, a book in your lap and Matakara glued to your side, following along or listening to you read aloud. You never failed to ask him how he was doing, how his brother was, ushering him to take home any of the vegetables you spent so much time tending to with the little strength you could muster to do so. You, who seemed so small and frail in spite of being a head taller than Matakara and with a much thicker skin, had no shortage of time or energy for him to come to you for advice or to wipe away his tears. Back in those days, he admired Arajin, borderline idolized him, but you were something else entirely in Matakara’s eyes.

When you moved away, Matakara cried until his eyes were raw and his stomach ached and then he cried some more. Now you’re here, finally able to be out and about like you always wished you could do and attending Ichizu with him. It’s like a dream come true; Matakara could hardly contain his own joy when your somber expression brightened at his offer to meet up. He’s essentially bound now to make sure you enjoy yourself at Ichizu high. Even at this moment as he listens to Zabu and Sakigake go over what they should do after school ends, Matakara wants to rush out to your classroom and take a seat at your side and stay there for the rest of the day. Really, how can he do anything else when you give him such a blindingly gorgeous smile? A smile like that should be protected at any cost; Matakara is almost ashamed at how eager he is for you to turn to him for support the moment you feel any discomfort or unease with your new surroundings.

“I should be wishing her good luck and for her to make a lot of new friends.” Matakara slumps at his desk, hardly conscious of the rest of the world around him. Not even Arajin’s cold shoulder in response to his morning greeting phased him, at least not as much as it would have before your arrival. “I thought I was over being so childish. I’ll have to be careful not to get too clingy; we’re not little kids anymore and it’s not as if I can keep her all to myself.”

Matakara buries his face into his arms; he can feel his cheeks burning. In spite of admonshing himself for getting carried away, he simply can't force you out of his head. It doesn’t help that you somehow managed to become even cuter over the span of five years. No, scratch that: cute doesn’t cut it. The sensation of you leaning in slightly to show him the hand drawn map had nearly caused Matakara to freeze up just from the feeling of your shoulder pressing against his.

“So pretty. I remember her being cute but now? I mean, seriously…she has those eyes and that hair and…that smile...”

Matakara exhales; imagining your warm, gentle smile alone is making him lightheaded. All those times Matakara spent leaning on you, head on your shoulder, so brazenly nuzzled against your side and he had nearly done so again out of habit or perhaps instinct only minutes before.

“She smells nice too. I still wish we had the same homeroom. If I asked, maybe she would read to me again and let me hold her.” Matakara presses his face harder into his arms, pretending he has you in them, your own arms wrapped around his neck, his mind somehow hearing your voice low and soft in his ear. “Wanted to hold her so bad…she’s so pretty and smells so good."

“Matakara Asamine?”

“Asamine-san, wake up, roll call.”

There’s a tap on Matakara’s shoulder from the student seated behind him and he raises his head; everyone is staring at him. Had he been asleep? How many times had the teacher said his name? Even Arajin is turned in his seat, looking his way but turns his head immediately when they make eye contact. After a moment, Matakara finds his voice to call out a hasty response.

“Here!”

The teacher goes ahead with the next name and even though no one dares laugh at him, Matakara is self conscious anyway. He knew it would be hard to keep himself in check around you, especially considering how long he had spent hoping to see you again one day, but Matakara had no idea exactly how hard it would hit him. If anything, his feelings for you have only gotten more intense.

“I’ve decided…I’ll do everything I can to make her wish come true. We’ll make a whole new world, one where she can do anything she wants with nothing holding her back. I can’t believe this is actually happening; she’s here and we can be together again.”

Matakara smiles to himself as he idly flips through his workbook, not really seeing the words and having absolutely no idea what page he’s meant to be reading; he’s already counting down to when the clock strikes half past noon, despite the morning having barely started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Arajin Tomoshibi’s sister? I see.”

Shindo leans back against the couch; the information he had a few of his underlings gather on you isn’t much, but it’s enough to satisfy his curiosity. The file, if it can be called that, is one sheet of basic information with a couple of photographs attached. One is of you from that morning, walking with Arajin on your way to Ishizu. The second photo is one of you taken of you watering some potted plants and a planter of herbs outside your family’s restaurant; you look a bit tired, frowning slightly as though disappointed with the progress of the herbs growing on the windowsill. You hold the small watering can, tipped downward, hand on one hip and lips pursed in a way that makes Shindo recall the face you had made when you left him standing in the aisle of the bookstore. A scarf is tied around your head and the apron draped over your body is stained. Not the most flattering angle or ensemble for a surprise photograph.

And yet, Shindo continues to stare down at the picture, held between his slender fingers; he turns it over and around, eyes scanning every detail. It’s as if he’s searching for something, but it’s not like there’s anything to gain from gazing upon your discontented pout.

“How dull a life she must lead: in and out of doctor’s offices and hospital rooms and when she’s well enough to be released, all she can do is pitter patter the hours away with books and plants. It explains her misconduct; names or not, she wouldn’t have the first clue of who I was, too ignorant to realize how easy it would have been to discipline her for being so mouthy.”

Shindo considers the photograph with a chuckle; his pinky traces your lips with a feather light touch. Such an unattractive expression; he’ll make sure to obtain a photograph with you looking more presentable.

“Poor little bunny, trapped in a burrow for so long. I know how to bring a little excitement into your life.”

#bucchigiri?!#matakara asamine #akutaro shindo #arajin tomoshibi #zabu kakeru #komao sakigake #matakara asamine x reader #akutaro shindo x reader #fem reader #reader insert #x reader

79 notes · View notes

marxistgnome · 1 year

Text

When i see people on here talking about why you should go watch strange world the main arguments are usually cos queer main character and experimental style Disney wants to shart on which are if course great reasons but here are some more oddly specific ones from someone who just saw the film

Its really fucking funny

The teenager acts like an actual teen

The costume design is so fucking cool its like star trek ds9 civilian wear in a colder climate it looks great

It shows the mortifying ordeal of being the one trying to explain the rules to a board game

Really cool flying machines. Im talking planes blimps motorbike things u name it its flying

It has a really good message about family and living with the environment

It has butch women in it! Theyre just background characters but still its really cool to see em

Flamethrower

The design of the town is brilliant

Cool cooking scene

One of the main characters is a native American woman (im pretty sure) and this is the first time ive seen a native American person in a film like this and shes cool as hell

Oh my GOD THE CREATURES AND THE STRANGE WORLD ITSELF most people have only seen the blue blobby thing but thats only the tip of the beautiful creature design in this film. Also not only are they well designed but the creatures have very cool lore that i wont spoil but trust me its exciting

The plot itself is very interesting and cool

There isn't that whole thing of good or meaningful moments being undercut by jokes its very genuine

Silly dog

unfit guy being forced to run everywhere

Loads of the creatures make bleep bloop noises the shole time and its really sweet

So colourful!

It does that thing were some of the plot is shown through a different animation medium cos its in a comic and its brilliant

Most importantly I REALLY LIKE IT AND I WANT TO TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT IT

Anyway PLEASE go see this film its a really fun watch and just delightful overall so go to the cinema or stream it when it comes out you will not regret it

#strange world #seriously it's one of my fave movies now.#just wonderful

678 notes · View notes

at-tensionseeker · 1 year

Text

No Is A Full Sentence

Elizabeth Olsen x Y/N

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, social anxiety, panic attacks

Genre: Fluff, Funny (i think, based on my humor lol)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44250676

This fanfic is inspired by Lizzie's Sam Jones' interview. I hope you enjoy!

It’s your first time going to this sushi place that one of your friends recommended. It isn’t far from your apartment, but you did have to walk for about ten minutes to get there. You wouldn’t have been if you weren’t craving those salmon nigiri take outs that your friend Jan brought to your apartment last week during your regularly scheduled movie nights. Instead, here you are standing in the back of the restaurant’s long ass line that reached their storefront because of so many people trying to buy their own food.

You put your hands in your coat’s pockets, just a failed attempt of trying to warm them. The memory of your gloves flashes in your eyes and the regret of not bringing them with you makes you want to kick yourself.

The December breeze in New York is definitely a killer. When you first moved in two years ago, you couldn’t even go outside for a full month without getting sick. The climate was new to you, especially having lived in sunny, warm weather all your life. It became a habit to buy long coats, jackets, winter gloves, and even earmuffs just so you don’t get hypothermia in the long run. Soon enough, you adjusted to the temperatures and learned how to adjust both your apartment’s and car’s heating system to help you during the winter season. It was fun.

The line moves slowly. Whatever the reason for that is, you really don’t know. Besides, you tell yourself, that you’re already in line and people behind you have come up so if you leave now you’ll just wake up in the middle of the night with those damn nigiris flooding your mind. So, you decided to stay.

You tip your toes to see if the people in front of you have moved since the last ten minutes you were there, but the sight of a short blonde hair and green eyes that met yours as she turns around for a split second stops you from breathing.

You’ve seen that face before. Multiple times.

In movies, in that Disney+ show, interviews, edits. You know it’s her.

You’ve been following her journey since her first appearance in Avengers Age of Ultron and has been on the ride up until her most recent successful film, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. You weren’t a die-hard Marvel fan before and even now you wouldn’t dare to call yourself one, but you quickly found yourself latched on to the franchise ever since you saw her. There aren’t any posters in your room, and you certainly haven’t gone to any Comic-cons, but you loved how she portrayed such a powerful character and has been fascinated by her ever since.

Elizabeth Olsen is standing in line in front of you in the middle of the cold New York weather, her frame clad in black faux fur coat and beanie on top of her head that really barely covers her blonde hair.

You suddenly couldn’t breathe. The air is getting colder and thinner for your liking, and you fear you’ll pass out before you could even say hi to her. There’s sweat forming on your palms and you know you can feel it, but you’re also a little confused since you’re pretty sure normal people don’t sweat in the cold. You brush it profusely against the material of your coat just to get it off or to calm your nerves. That one you’re still debating on.

The line moves briefly and then stops, and you think to yourself that if you could just muster any amount of courage, you’d say hi to her. Maybe get a photo with her even.

Should you say hi to her? What will you tell her? Do you tap her first on the shoulder so she can look back at you? Or is that rude?

The line moves again and you curse inwardly. It was barely moving five minutes ago, and now that you see a Hollywood Star in front of you it suddenly budges?

How infuriatingly unlucky of you.

From what you’ve seen, Elizabeth seems nice to her fans during fan meets and interviews so you know she’s not rude. That’s one of the reasons why you fell in love with her personality.

But this isn’t a Comic-con, is it? This isn’t some staged interview wherein you get a free backstage pass to meet your idol, no. This is literally outside of the restaurant in the middle of a busy New York street and she’s just trying to grab some food just like everyone else.

You’re still conflicted, even when the both of you finally reach inside. There’s probably about 4 to 5 people in front of you now, and you’re not even thinking about the sushi at this point anymore. Your hands still shake and sweat no matter how many times you wipe it off, and your heart beats faster than normal when you realize you’re both going to part ways sooner than you like it. It gets even harder to convince yourself to just go for it because when will another opportunity like this be presented to you in the future? Chances are lower than zero itself. A negative number if you think of it.

So when the customer in front of her finally reaches the counter, your shaky hands poke her slightly on her left shoulder.

Nothing.

Okay, maybe a little harder?

You poke her again, and she whips her head back to you. Her brows furrowed at the sight of you and they raise up in question. It’s hard not to look like a fool in front of a famous person, isn’t it? You probably look like a deer in headlights, but you quickly found your voice after a few blinks.

“Uh- h-hi,” you stammer. “Are you- is it okay if- I’m a huge fan of your work. Is it okay if I ask for a photo?”

You’re pretty sure she didn’t hear that. You barely let out a whisper, or is that blood that’s rushing through your ears?

Realization dawns on her face on what you mean. She shakes her head.

“No.”

There is a breaking sound somewhere. You’re not entirely sure if it’s one of the waiters who accidentally breaks some glass or if it is the sound of your heart breaking. You freeze in your place, embarrassed and hurt, but mostly embarrassed because of the dumb decision you made. Instead of letting that get to you, you give her a smile and nod to let her know that you get it.

“Forgive me,” you blurt out, still smiling at her to hide the tears burning in the back of your eyes. “I understand, of course. You’re not obliged to. I’m really-“ you pause to swallow the lump in your throat. It’s just really embarrassing. “I’m really glad to have seen you in person.”

Elizabeth only looks at you and gives you a warm smile and that eases out a little bit of your anxiety of probably offending her at some point. The customer in front of her left, you notice, so you usher her forward. She gives you one last smile and orders her food.

Few of the things you didn’t notice though. Her eyes are red and a little bit swollen, probably from crying and when she ordered her food, her hands are clasped together with fingers rubbing each other to ease her anxiety. Of course you would have, had you not been too busy cursing yourself at your stupidity.

Elizabeth grabs her takeout, gives you one last look and exits the restaurant.

You take the sushi you’re not craving anymore and replays the encounter as you go your way home. You can’t believe that the first celebrity you’ll meet in New York is the one person you adore. It was surreal, to say the least, and despite the rocky meeting with Elizabeth Olsen you are still happy to have seen her smile and look at you directly in person.

You swear to God you’ll attend the next Comic-con.

Sending the news to Jan, who doesn’t believe you therefore requested that you call him as soon as you arrive, you quickly pocket your phone and sprint your way outside of the busier streets of New York. You reach the more calm and quiet area where your apartment is and begin to walk slowly.

The unfortunate encounter with Elizabeth Olsen has been the only thing that’s replaying in your mind so when you spot a crouched figure with faux fur coat and beanie once again, you couldn’t help but squeak.

You almost tripped on her actually. She’s just by the sidewalk, both of her hands are covering her ears and her eyes are tightly closed. There’s a frown and a thin line of sweat on her face and you didn’t think twice before fully sitting down in front of her to check.

“Hey,” you prod slowly. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”

Flashes of hands clasped together back at the restaurant flood your brain and it didn’t take you another minute to realize that she’s currently having a panic attack.

“Uhm… Elizabeth- Lizzie? Can I call you that? I’ll call you that, okay?” You stammer. “I’m here to help you. Can you breathe slowly please?”

Elizabeth does as you tell her. You continue to tell her to breathe and that everything is fine around you. “It’s scary, I know. But it will pass, okay? You need to be in the present, Lizzie. Just listen to my voice. I’ll be right here and you’re not alone.”

Albeit her eyes are still shut, her breathing sounds less worse than before. And when she finally looks up to you, you see the green eyes you have admired for a long time swimming in pain and anxiety. It makes you want to pull her for a hug since she may need one, but you obviously don’t want to overstep your boundaries even if that means comforting her to help.

“Concentrate on my breathing,” you nod at her to encourage her to copy the rhythm you set for her. “That’s it. You’re doing really good, Lizzie.”

Eventually after what seems like hours of doing breathing exercises with her capped with a lot of reassuring words, the hands cupping her ears drop down to her lap and are slowly rubbing her palms in another attempt to calm herself. You slowly stand up from the ground and hold out a hand for her to take.

“Are you okay now? Can you stand?” You offer. She takes it and stands up rather wobbly.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I feel better.”

“Right,” you smile at her. Noticing that you’re still holding her also glove-less hand, your cheeks flush as you pull it back while taking two steps backwards. You don’t want to overcrowd her after having an anxiety attack.

“Um so, are you from around here? I could walk you to your place if you want,” you tell her, not really wanting to risk letting her go alone after an episode. You know how it feels to be trapped by anxiety like that, and to break down in public places without backup is definitely one of the worst experiences ever.

“I’m not trying to stalk you or something,” you clarify after not getting an answer from her. “I’m Y/N. I live there in that building,” you point towards your apartment. “If you want, I can jog really quickly and get my car and I can drive you home. Or not, of course I don’t want to overstep. I understand completely.

“It’s just, I don’t want you to go on your own after experiencing that,” you add. “I know how it feels and I honestly just want to help you.”

Elizabeth contemplates for a moment and answers. “That’s very kind of you, Y/N. But, I think I need to decline the offer. Being in this business, I’m not a very trusting person-“

“Of course,” you cut her off quickly. “I understand, Ms. Olsen.”

“However,” she smiles a little bit at your rambling once again. “Can I please borrow your phone? Mine died down and I need to call my sister so she can pick me up from here. And I guess don’t mind the company while waiting?”

You quickly fish out your phone and hand it over to her. You also ignore the amused chuckle from her as soon as she sees your lock screen is that of Wanda Maximoff.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“The phone’s locked. Do you want to type in your password?” She smiles, the look of amusement still twinkling in her eyes. You don’t mind though. You’d prefer her teasing eyes over the sad ones you witnessed a while ago.

“Oh, okay. Here let me just,” you move forward to type in 0216 in your phone and the blush creeps back in your face once again when you feel her eyes watching you.

Elizabeth calls one of her twin sisters. Apparently, they’re here in New York for a fashion event and Elizabeth thought it’d be nice to come with them. While waiting for one of the Olsen twins, you both sat on one of the stairs and talked for a bit.

“I want to say that I’m sorry for refusing to take a photo a while ago,” she looks at you a little apologetically. Her posture seems calmer now and you’re really glad that she’s doing better every passing minute. “I was out on my own, and a few people have recognized me on the streets and I was just trying to have a nice time for myself.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” you reply. “I wasn’t lying when I said I completely understand and that you’re not obliged to. I'm just glad to meet you.

“I should be the one to apologize,” you bite your lip nervously. It didn’t cross your mind that you could’ve been the trigger to her already bubbling up anxiety but hearing her say that crowds have already recognized her, you asking for a photo was the last straw. “I was contemplating whether or not to ask you and I did, but I know I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

The actress waves it off. “No, honestly you were the most polite one. You were just the first and only person I said ‘no’ to who didn’t insist on getting a photo, and that set me off. Others just didn’t care and they still took their flashing phones out and pointed it at me.”

“One thing I learned from you is that ‘no is a full sentence’ so,” you acknowledge with a smile, distinctly remembering that one interview of hers with Sam Jones.

“Yes, exactly,” she laughs.

“We can take a photo now if you want to?” The actress offers after a moment of silence. “You helped me through a tough time. It’s one of the ways I can repay you.”

“It’s okay, really. You don’t have to repay me or anything. Kindness is free,” you reply, to which her small smile widens a lot more. “You’ve had a long day. I’m just the stranger who wants to help a fellow anxiety sufferer,” you joke to which she laughs lightly.

“At this point you’re not a stranger anymore,” Elizabeth says, her fingers still fiddling with each other. “I know your name is Y/N, and where you live,” she points to your building to prove it. “Those two plus the fact that your wallpaper is Wanda and your passcode is my birthday.”

She smirks at you, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flush for the nth time that day. “Okay, you win. Yes, I’m your fan and all that. You can make fun of me now.”

“Don’t be like that,” Elizabeth laughs at your silly eye roll but waves it off. “I’m always honored to meet my fans.”

A black car pulls up from out of nowhere and Elizabeth stands up to leave. “This was really great. Minus the anxiety part,” she turns back to you and flashes that award winning smile yet again. “I’m grateful that it was you who found me cowering in the streets, Y/N. I’m hoping to see you again some other time when neither of us is either breaking down or a complete and total stranger,” you note the hopeful tone in her voice, and that makes you wonder if there’s another universe out there wherein she’ll still remember you after tonight because you’re pretty sure she wouldn’t.

If you’re lucky, this might be that universe but who knows?

“I’m glad you’re safe,” you smile at her. “See you around, Ms. Olsen.”

“That is such a formal way to address me,” She calls out, opening the door to the front seat.

“Elizabeth, then?” You suggest to which she grimaces.

“Just Lizzie is fine. I distinctly remember you calling me that a while ago during… you know,” she trails off. “And only my mom calls me by my full name and that only happens when I’m in trouble.”

“Okay, Lizzie,” you chuckle. Waving a hand up to a goodbye, the car finally speeds off to the opposite direction of your apartment. You let out a sigh and smile at the events as you walk back home.

Even when you are in bed, the memory of her voice and her smile makes you giddy. This definitely goes on the top of your list of most memorable things that have happened to you while staying in New York. You still couldn’t believe your chances. Granted your first meeting was terrible in all ways, Elizabeth was nothing short of amazing to you. You really aren’t wrong to follow her throughout her career because of her personality. The personal encounter made you want to support her more in the future.

The morning after that, the wild array of flowers on your doorstep have kind of taken you by surprise. To add to that, you see the simple note on one of the bouquets that says

“To my biggest fan,

Thank you.

Love,

Wanda Maximoff”

and your heart melts at the sentiment.

You aren’t expecting yourself to be at the receiving end of this, but it’s definitely not unwanted. It most definitely isn’t, especially when you check your phone and see a text from an unknown number asking whether or not you got the package.

You replied to Elizabeth, saving her number under “Lizzie” with a huge grin on your face. She must’ve gotten the number from her sister when she borrowed your phone to call her. Who would’ve thought that asking for a photo with Elizabeth Olsen and getting rejected will lead you to this?

Y/N: Are you my stalker now? Did our roles change?

Lizzie: Ha-ha. Very funny. I just want to say thank you again for yesterday.

Y/N: And you already have. The flowers are unnecessary.

Lizzie: Did you not like them?

Y/N: I love them. They’re beautiful, Lizzie. Thank you.

Lizzie: Would you say, they’re beautiful enough for us to talk about them over coffee?

You almost choke on the bread you made for breakfast this morning. That is definitely upfront and honest. You convince yourself that it’s probably just another way to thank you for the good deed yesterday, but there’s also a teeny tiny voice in your head saying she’s asking you out.

But why would she, right?

Deciding to not listen to any of your demons, you turn your attention back to her text. Upon rereading the text she sent for the third time now, it’s dawning on you that you’ve yet to reply. Elizabeth follows that up with another text and it makes you feel really silly because of how much your cheeks ache from smiling.

Lizzie: Maybe about Wanda also? If you want?

Lizzie: Or… anxiety issues?

Y/N: You already have me on board with coffee. Wanda talk, too. The anxiety issues, I think we should both stick to our therapists.

Lizzie: I can’t say I don’t agree on the last one.

Lizzie: So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow then? 3PM?

Y/N: Works for me, Lizzie.

Y/N: Or I can pick you up instead. I wouldn’t mind.

Lizzie: It’s okay, Y/N. Besides, I know where you live. *winky face*

You laugh at that one. She should definitely be a star of another comedy film. Elizabeth is funny by nature even though there are countless interviews of her saying that she’s not.

Y/N: Of course you’ll throw that.

Y/N: I feel unsafe now. This is unfair. I feel like I should also know where you live.

Lizzie: You will.

Lizzie: On the second date.

Lizzie: When you take me home.

Elizabeth leaves no room for questions. Your demons shut their mouths when you read that it most definitely will be a date. You want to play it cool, like coyly and shy, but what’s more to hide? She already knows you’re a fan, so you stick to that and pray that maybe… someday maybe, who knows, right? You’ll like each other.

Y/N: You’re smooth, Olsen. Got two dates in one day.

Lizzie: I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.

Y/N: Can’t wait.

-----------------------------------

You’re late. And you forgot your gloves again.

It’s another cold, almost snowy day in New York city. You love living here despite the busy times and countless people just trying to go through with their respective lives. It’s loud and lively and you used to hate that but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be but here.

You check your bag for the passes, but the memory of the glossy paper beside your gloves on your messy bed makes you internally groan. The first time you attend a Comic-con, and you leave your backstage passes. How else are you going to meet her?

Cursing inwardly, you send her a text to let her know of your situation even though you know that the event started an hour ago and she won’t see it because she’s definitely not holding her phone in the middle of answering questions. You blame your boss for sending that last minute spreadsheet, but this is your idea right? You have to suffer the consequences.

Being in line isn’t something foreign to you. In fact, it’s so familiar that you chuckle as kids, teens, and grown ups join you from the entrance. The line is moving rapidly as most people with passes (which could have been you if you weren’t so careless) have already gone inside. When you enter the place, it’s no surprise to see it packed as the recent MCU film has made tabloids and charts because of its success. You easily spot her even though you’re rows away from the front line. She’s sitting in the middle with her face scrunched up in annoyance and teeth biting her lower lip so hard you swear she wants to draw blood.

You grimace as you helplessly stand in the back with no way to even come forward to be close to her. The situation is laughable, but the frown on Elizabeth’s forehead is enough to make you worry and act fast. You find a spot with a lot of light so you move towards that, passing a lot of people in the process, with the hopes of her green eyes spotting you even for a distance.

It’s effective apparently, because she spots you at the same time a question is asked towards her. The frown eases, she scrunches up her nose adorably towards you and you nod back both in confirmation and reassurance that you made it there, and she lets out a full on grin you know is solely reserved for you. The interviewer interrupts and you laugh at her confused state.

“Elizabeth? The question?” The interviewer supplies.

“Right! I’m so sorry,” she laughs gleefully, head thrown back and hand covering her mouth and you’ve seen that look a thousand times before but it still gives you the same butterfly effect in your stomach. “I- uh. I saw my wife in the crowd and I got distracted. I’m sorry. What was the question again?”

“How romantic!” the interviewer swoons. “Everyone, that’s Elizabeth’s wife Y/N. Can we say hello to her?”

Your face turns red as people look at your direction and send cheers and hoots. You wave back to the fans shyly, stealing another glance at your wife on the stage as you do so. Standing in front of the light definitely has some good and bad results. You can’t believe she did that in front of everybody, but you’re not one to complain. Her PA also runs from the front to you upon hearing this and she ushers you through security. You chuckle as they bring you in, blowing Elizabeth a kiss before you disappear backstage.

“Hey,” your wife greets you after the event is finished. She skips towards your direction and plants a chaste kiss on your lips to which you happily sigh into. “I was worried you weren’t here.”

“Forgive me, my love,” you apologize while engulfing her in a hug. “You know commuting in New York is insane.”

“I repeatedly told you to get your license so we can buy you a new car.”

You smile at the worry in her voice. “I like it when you drive us to places you’re familiar with, Ms. Stuyvesant Street. And the boss left me with some last minute work.”

She pulls back to look at you. “And what were you doing in the back? Didn’t I leave the passes in our apartment?”

“I left them,” you sheepishly reply. Elizabeth narrows her eyes at you and shakes her head.

“And your gloves too. Am I right, my love?”

The cheeky smile you gave her is enough to confirm her suspicions. “I was really late and I wanted to see you as soon as I could. I miss you this morning.”

“Charming,” she laughs and rummages through her bag for something. Curious as you are, you lean forward to look at it. “Here.”

She hands you a pair of gloves.

“I keep one in case you forget yours during winter,” she grins, proud of what she did. “And I was right.”

You want to wipe off that cocky smirk off of her lips. There are a lot of people around you but she did announce you to everyone, so really what else is stopping you? After she said goodbye to everyone, you pull her hand so she moves closer to your side.

Elizabeth lets out a squeal when you grab both of her waist. You smell her perfume that invades your nostrils and your head swims at the fact that there’s nothing better than having her close again. She’s everywhere and the background fades away like a cliche movie scene, but you don’t care about any of those. She’s here in front of you and you’re incredibly happy to know that she loves you as much as you love her.

“I love you,” you whisper against her mouth.

“I love you, too.”

It’s insane how one kiss from her makes you feel giddy. And that’s saying something after being married to her for a year now.

“You need to wear the gloves, my love,” she chuckles when both of you pull away. Elizabeth leads you to the back exit that leads to the parking lot. The breeze picks up a little bit and snowflakes fall on your heads, but your face is still hot from kissing her.

“Why do I need the gloves when I could just hold your hand and let you warm me up?” You bob your eyebrows at her and kiss her temple as the both of you walk towards her car.

You’re lucky. There’s no doubt about that now. Being with such an incredible woman who supports you in everything that you do and loves you through it all is a bliss. You couldn’t have asked for more.

“And they say I’m the romantic one.”

#elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #y/n #elizabeth olsen x y/n #fluff #lizzie x y/n #lizzie x you #elizabeth olsen x you #funny #new york city setting #fanfiction #fanfic #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wandanat #scarletwidow #marvel cinematic universe

581 notes · View notes