#Today I'm going to decide someone's fate
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magical vibe 🔮✨
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Right hand II
Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader
Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd.
Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut;
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.
You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.
Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.
And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.
A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.
"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.
"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.
"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.
You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…
However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.
You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.
"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.
You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.
"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…
"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."
"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.
For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.
He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.
"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.
"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.
"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.
You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.
"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.
"So what about this? Are you scared?"
"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.
You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.
"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.
It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.
You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.
"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.
Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.
"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.
"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.
He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.
"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.
"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.
He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:
"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.
"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."
"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.
His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.
"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.
"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.
You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.
"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"
"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.
He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.
You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.
You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.
“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."
"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.
"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.
You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.
"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.
"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.
"If I know them, then yes, why?"
"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.
"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.
"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.
"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.
"Don't we?"
"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.
"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.
He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.
You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.
You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.
The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...
“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.
As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.
“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.
"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."
"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.
"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.
"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.
Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.
It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.
"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.
He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...
"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"
"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.
"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'
He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?
He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.
But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.
"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.
Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.
You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.
Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.
And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.
"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.
"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.
"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.
"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.
"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."
"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.
"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.
You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.
"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."
"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"
"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.
"What?"
"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."
"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.
"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"
"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.
"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.
No. I was supposed to be your pet.
"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.
"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.
"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.
"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.
You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.
"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...
"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."
"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.
You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.
"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.
"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...
"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."
As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.
You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.
You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.
On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.
What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.
You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.
At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.
"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.
"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.
"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."
This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.
"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.
You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.
He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.
At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.
You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.
"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."
You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.
You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...
You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.
"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.
Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...
He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.
"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.
"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.
"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.
You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.
The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.
"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"
"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.
"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.
"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.
"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.
You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.
You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.
The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.
As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.
"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.
"The little witch is in trouble…"
"Our master will be very angry with her…"
"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"
They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.
"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.
"The little witch's friend is here…"
"Our master is interrogating her…"
"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."
"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."
"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."
And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.
"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.
You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.
You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.
So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.
You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.
You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.
Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.
"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."
"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.
"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."
"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.
His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.
"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.
Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.
You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.
You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.
You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.
You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..
You were the only one left alive.
From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.
You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.
And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.
You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.
For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.
But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.
You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.
Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...
Part III
Taglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha x y/n#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd x reader#feyd x you#feyd oneshot#house harkonnen#dune part 2#oneshot#feyd supremacy#feyd smut#feyd rautha x bene gesserit reader#feyd imagine#feyd rautha smut#feyd rautha harkonnen x you#smut#dark romance#toxic behavior
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ﾟ+*:ꔫ:* run back to me. — p.sh (smut, 18+)
cw: hoonie is really questionable, stalking(?), manipulation(?), mention of baby trapping, was listening to 'i love you hoe,' and this shit came to mind so i lazily wrote it up :p
"i hate you, park sunghoon!"
"really? tell me how much you hate me."
"oh, fuck you!"
"you already did."
"we're done." you slammed the door behind you.
sunghoon was cocky — this wasn't your first argument. you two'd argue like this every couple of months. you'd yell, scream, cry, and every time you'd call it quits — but not really. because you'd always come back, knocking on his apartment door, "baby, you were right. let me in." and he would happily let you in. he wouldn't turn you away, you were so pretty with puffy eyes and lips. the night'd end the same, with you back in his bed.
but this time — this time was different.
it'd been two months. no drunken texts or calls, not even a knock on his door at 2:00 am.
so what? it's just taking (you) a little bit longer than usual — that's it. he doesn't care. sunghoon convinces himself that you're going crazy at home. he tries to remember you're nothing without him. you need him. right?
what'll it hurt to check your instagram a couple times? not that he's worried. maybe, he'll scroll through your twitter too — even check your location while he's at it. who the fuck is that? some guy in one of your photos, the two of you stand close with wide smiles plastered on your faces. sunghoon — who's usually stoic and calm, finds himself frustrated seeing your latest posts. you look happy. a little too happy. you shouldn't be this happy without him. so he decides then, to take it upon himself to come to you. after all, he's only doing what's best for you — and everyone knows he's what's best for you.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"sunghoon?"
you were out running errands. you found yourself in the freezer section, browsing for whatever when you saw someone oddly familiar. "ah, y/n, hey." he gives you a small smile, and you nod. "hey... it's good to see you."
"you look good, y/n."
"thank you, you too."
" 'running errands?"
you swallow dryly, "err... yeah. something like that."
"do you—" he pretends to stutter. "do you want to catch up? it's been a while."
"i'm a bit busy today." you have to stay away from him. you're well aware of his effect on you.
"you can come over," it's working, he thinks to himself. "tomorrow night, if you're free." he wants you to feel like it's a choice — it's not.
"well, uhm... okay." you smile.
your fate is sealed — death by park sunghoon.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"shit, s'tight!" he grunts. " 'were made for me, weren't you? tight little pussy s'all mine? hoonie's pussy, right?"
you can almost feel him in your stomach. sunghoon sloppily thrusts his hips into your own, he's nearly folding you in half. "hoonie's pussy! it's yours, baby. f-fuck! it's yours!" he bites down feeling you clench around his length, still rapidly fucking into your heat. you can feel him stretching your cunt.
"who's fucking you like this, huh? who does it best, sweet girl?"
"y-you!" you squeal out.
" 'n what's my name, baby?"
"s-sunghoo- shit! sunghoon!"
"there you go, sweetheart." he coos into your ear. " 'wan't me to fuck you full of my cum? 'give you all my babies, i'll make you a mommy?" he snaps his hips into yours, feeling himself close. you can feel a knot in your stomach, holding your breath you gasp out, "yes, yes, yes! please! please make me a mommy, hoonie! 'want all your cum." and he chuckles. "all of it?" nodding, you can feel him speed up. his rhythmic thrusts feeling more heavy as he lifts himself up, busying one of his hands with your clit — prodding and massaging before placing a wet kiss on your lips.
#lil-ma-shae#fem!reader#fanfiction#enhypen hard hours#enha smut#enha hard hours#enhypen smut#enhypen#enha#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#park sunghoon#sunghoon smut#sunghoon x reader#enha hyung line#park sunghoon smut#black!reader#poc!reader
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I meant to do some greenhouse cleaning and tidying today because my mum is coming to visit and I don't want to be judged. It involved finally bringing myself to say goodbye to my moribund basil plants (by turning them into pesto) among other things—but my plans were derailed when I took down one of the aquaponics towers and heard a big splash. I thought I'd disturbed a fish that was napping amid the plant roots in the water, but no.... I looked into the fish tank and saw a big frog indignantly swimming away.
I went to get a little dip net and spent a solid half hour trying to fish the frog out—she swam so fast! And was really determined to stay in the fish tank, even when I told her I would put her outside somewhere watery and nice where she could meet frog friends. But I did catch her in the end.
I'd never seen a completely black frog before! When I googled for more info, all I found were photos of the (amazing) African rain frog, which one website compared to an angry avocado.
Back to my tank squatter—she was delicately placed on the edge of the barrel that collects spring water in the pasture and invited to start a new life here, and she morosely sat for quite a while, mulling over her options.
I'm not even lying to you, frog: I found a beautiful toad in the pasture some time ago... I'm moving you from a place of existential alienation (lone frog in fish tank) to a hot spot of batracian life.
I tried to film the moment when the frog accepted her fate and gracefully jumped into the barrel but of course I started filming just a second too late and she refused to come back for a second take. In the meantime, every pasture dweller had noticed that something interesting was happening, and converged towards me. When they found my hands and pockets empty of snacks their reactions ranged from sharp betrayal to distant melancholy.
Pirlouit looked so sad in the rain staring at the horizon, pondering the inherent unfairness of life, I ended up letting him sniff the dip net, like, did you actually WANT to eat a frog?
I know, but this one was too large for you.
Poldine was the only one who didn't resent me for visiting them with a frog and no snacks; she was just happy for the opportunity to kiss someone's cheek.
When I went home and looked at my frog pictures I realised there was an apple floating in the barrel ! which I hadn't seen since I was too focused on the frog. The apple tree has shed nearly all of its fruit by now, it must be one of the last apples of the year... And since entering the pasture with a poor slimy excuse for a snack in my dip net had clearly made a dent in my approval ratings, I decided to go back and offer llamas & donkey the apple along with some vegetable peelings.
Pandolf was intrigued when I fished an apple out of the barrel; he sat down in front of me the way he does to signal that he is a good dog and possibly deserving of good things; but UNLIKE SOME he wasn't disappointed with me when he realised the thing I was holding wasn't meant for him because the world doesn't revolve around him.
.... approval ratings skyrocketing 📈
Look at Pirlouit in the background, startled and horrified as he realises he left the scene to soon!
Look at him leaving a cloud of dust behind him as he rushes towards us!
Don't worry Pirou, I saved you a whole half courgette <3 You can drop the tragic misunderstood persecuted look now.
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Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭
It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))
EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]
Fernando Alonso x reader
Masterlist
Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD
Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).
If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.
Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.
You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.
When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.
Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.
The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.
You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.
Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.
Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.
For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.
“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.
“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.
You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”
The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.
Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.
Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.
You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.
All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.
-----
You couldn't believe it.
As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?
It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.
Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.
To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.
Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.
Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.
As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.
Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?
He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.
You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.
“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”
And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.
“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”
“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”
“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly.
The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.
“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.
Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.
Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.
Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.
Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.
In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat. You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.
It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.
“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.
Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.
“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.
When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.
“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.
Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.
“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.
You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.
“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.
You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.
“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.
However, he didn't let go of your hand.
“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.
“I'm not going anywhere with you.”
“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”
It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.
“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.
Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?
So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.
You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.
“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.
“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”
Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.
“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.
“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”
That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.
“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.
This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”
You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.
For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.
Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.
Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.
You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.
“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.
When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.
“What's all this?”
You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”
“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.
“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”
“You work overtime?”
Now you were starting to get irritated.
“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.
But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.
Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.
“Y/N, I-”
“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.
You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?
And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.
-----
You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.
Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.
However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.
It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.
And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.
When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.
The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.
You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?
When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.
You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.
Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.
Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.
“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.
“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.
“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”
The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.
“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.
“Aren't we talking right now?”
“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.
“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.
He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.
“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”
Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.
“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.
And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.
Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.
“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.
-----
Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.
And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.
You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.
“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.
“But Nando, I need to finish these-”
He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.
“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.
Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.
And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.
“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.
You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.
“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.
“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”
Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.
Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.
THE END
Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)
#f1 fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#formula 1#formula one#couple#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#reading#fernando alonso#fernando alonso x reader#fa14#fa14 x reader#alpine f1#aston martin#aston martin f1#x reader#writing#oneshot#f1 fic#f1#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#f1 angst
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A/N: This is short and silly and I enjoyed every second of writing it.
Words: 685
Warnings: none
You sighed as you let your head fall back to admire the stars. Thousands of piercing little lights dotting the night sky. It was rather beautiful, and for the first time ever since you had gotten into this mess (and a tadpole had gotten into you), you felt… content.
Perhaps it was because despite all this—you let your gaze wander over the campsite—fate decided to give something back. Someone. Your eyes found Astarion, brooding over one of the books you had recently picked up. Gods, you longed to take a bite right out of him the way he stood there in those tight and dark trousers and his white cotton shirt. It was quite incredible this handsome man… vampire spawn… liked you back. Not only that but you had mutated into his… lifeline, so to speak. Absentmindedly, you brought your hand to your neck, fingertips ghosting over the two puncture wounds his fangs had left behind last night. It had become a pleasurable and enjoyable ritual for you both now.
You’d have dinner with the others and at night, once everyone else was asleep, Astarion would get his fill and have supper for himself.
Another sigh. Dinner had been quite amazing and filling today. Gale had volunteered to cook after you found a crate full of abandoned supplies. Potato chips, carrot soup, garlic bread, and even lasagne… a chef would have slapped his palm against his forehead at the combination of all of these things for one evening but alas… you hadn’t eaten this much in over a week.
You were practically drunk on a full belly and that was before having a glass of wine already. Speaking of which… grabbing your empty glass, you got up from your bedroll, sauntering over to Astarion’s tent.
His head lifted as soon as he sensed you—and you actually liked to think that he could smell you, your blood, before he could hear or see you. A slight smile played on his lips when your eyes locked and he shut the book in his hands, putting it aside.
“Have a glass with me?” you offered, tilting your head as you waved the chalice in the air.
“Oh? Are we celebrating something, darling?”
“No… I’m just in a really good mood today.”
Astarion smirked in response and reached for the bottle of elven wine on the small table next to his tent.
“Well, given the current state of things, I’ll drink to that,” he purred, filling both your glasses. You clinked them, each taking a big sip before the vampire spawn took yours from you and set them both aside along with the bottle.
“Now would you say… you’re also in the mood for a bit of fun tonight?”
You grinned when he pulled you close, his face only inches from yours. “I thought you’d never ask.”
You closed your eyes, allowing him to lean forward and capture your lips in a hungry kiss.
“Ow! Gods, damn it!”
All of a sudden, as if stung by an adder, Astarion released you, half-blowing raspberries and cursing as he coughed as if you had poisoned him.
“What… are you alright? What happened? Oh… oh gods!” Realisation hit you only a second after.
“Oh no… Gale made garlic bread tonight! I completely forgot you can’t… oh, Astarion, I am so sorry. Let me have a look, is it bad?”
“I’m fine! It’s not going to kill me, it just… burns. Gods!” A few more curses followed as he brought his fingertips to his lips, assessing the damage done.
“I’ll go rinse my mouth, alright? I’ll be right back.”
The sound of acknowledgment he made was hardly an answer. It was enough for you to turn back around though, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were holding back a grin.
“It could be worse… I mean… I could have put my lips elsewhere.”
“Very funny, darling.” Still, there was a hint of amusement swinging in his voice and you certainly couldn’t help the little chuckle forcing its way out of your throat. He had to admit… it was hilarious.
A/N: I'm on my second playthrough as Durge right now and I realised one thing about myself: As much as I love villains and misunderstood bad guys, I'm really bad at being evil. 😂 I feel soo bad every time I make a mean decision, hahaha!
#astarion#astarion imagine#astarion x you#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion ancunin#astarion ancunin imagine#astarion ancunin x you#astarion ancunin x reader#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate 3 imagine#bg3#bg3 imagine#neil newbon
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A Single Daffodil || 2
Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Rating: 18+ minors DNI
Word Count: 9.1K
Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi
Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut
Author's Note: hi everyone! it's currently exactly 2am for me lol but I wanted to get this chapter out today! i was hoping to having the wedding happen but I like it more for the next chapter. all the support has been so overwhelming and amazing, thank you guys so much for all the love!! i appreciate it so much and I'm grateful that you all are so supportive, especially for my first ever fic. i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, just let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!
Taglist:
@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling
previous / masterlist / next
You could feel your eyes glazing over with the amount of time you’d spent staring at your computer screen. A quick glance at the clock showed that only a couple hours had passed since you’d arrived at work, and a devastating thirty minutes remained until your lunch break. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you tried to find the energy to resume reviewing the materials your team had sent you, but you came up short.
The wedding planning had been taking a lot out of you the past couple of months, even though your mother wasn’t letting you decide anything for it anyway. She had been quite clear that all you had to do was show up and that your input wouldn’t be needed. You couldn’t honestly say you had an issue with that, this didn’t feel like your wedding anyway. If it were yours, you would’ve been getting married to someone you love, and crucially, someone who loves you in return.
But that wasn’t in the cards for you and you knew that well, so you went along with your mother’s planning placidly, agreeing to almost everything she mentioned and getting ignored on things you didn’t. It left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It felt like an out-of-body experience every time your mother pulled you into another appointment for your dress fittings or makeup and hair test runs. You could feel yourself simply going through the motions and just waiting until the appointment was done so you could return to your mundane life.
Not much else had changed, honestly. You were still working, hanging out with your friends on occasion, reading in bed, and watching television in the evenings. The only thing looming over you was the date of the wedding, now only six months away. It felt like an omen, always hovering near you, spiking your heart rate, and making you sweat.
Even your team had noticed your heightened anxiety and expressed their worries to you, especially the youngest, Choi Song Ha. She was a cute, young thing, a fresh face in the industry that you had quickly taken under your wing once you had set eyes on her in the new recruit orientation you visited just over a year ago now. You knew just how quickly the gaming industry ate up and spat out women like clockwork and you didn’t want the same fate for her, so you’d snatched her up into your team. She truly felt like the little sister you’d never had and your bond quickly grew over the months since you’d met. She had picked up on your dampened mood and resolved to leave you small treats of a chip bag or chocolates on your desk every other day or so as a means to cheer you up. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate outright signs of concern or making a scene at work, and you loved her for it.
She had left you a small red ginseng jelly this morning with a doodle of a grumpy cat stuck to it on a post-it note. It made you smile every time you glanced at it.
It kind of reminded you of Yoongi. The two of you hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to talk to him. Your mother had given you his number and you’d saved it, but you hadn’t made any move to message him.
“Team leader?”
You turned, snapping out of your daze to face another one of your team members, Yeonsik.
“Yes, Yeonsik,” you responded, trying to appear calm and collected, and not like you were just thinking about your soon-to-be husband who hates you.
“We have the materials from the character graphics department for Plan C ready, it’s in your inbox now. They said that they’re ready to make any changes you want, but they’re worried about the deadline for the second draft,” Yeonsik rambled. He was a nice man, only a few years younger than you, and quite passionate about his job since joining your team two years back, just after you’d become the team lead of Planning Group 1. He had a handsome face with longer, dark hair and bright eyes that were eager to please.
“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Also, good job on keeping Graphics 2 on track, I know they’ve been giving us a hard time with getting the updated designs over. Thanks again,” you said politely, sending him a small smile. Yeonsik beamed in response and returned to his seat happily. You chuckled fondly at his antics before opening the file he’d sent. You loved your team members and you held a high respect for them. You knew you led them well and that they respected you in return. It was a small team, consisting of only five people, including you, but you were content with the group and the dynamic. You often went out for drinks together after work, usually followed by karaoke and at least one member passing out, most often Yeonsik, who would then be picked up by his boyfriend. You were a close-knit group and you couldn’t imagine a better job.
Slowly, Mrs. Min’s words crept back into your mind at the thought of how much you loved your position. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t expect you to quit your job? You wouldn’t be able to bear it.
No, he said that he would do his thing and you would do yours, you reminded yourself. That’s right, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. Except, you hadn’t really agreed, had you? You’d just acquiesced because he’d been in the motion of leaving anyway. You weren’t really sure if that’s what you’d wanted, living separate lives and being married only on paper.
Yoongi’s words rang clear in your head as you gnawed on your lower lip, was this really how this marriage was going to be? The two of you not even acknowledging each other except at galas and parties where you had to appear married? You didn’t want that.
But…if Yoongi did, how much say did you really have? As much as you wanted to make this work, it had to be a two-way street. If Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with you, you would have to accept that and just try to get through this the best you could. You had said to Joohee that day you’d found out, that there’s nothing you can do to stop him.
It felt painful to come to terms with, especially in the environment of your office where you still had to appear professional. Thankfully, you breathed, none of your team members had noticed your mini-mental breakdown.
Your phone buzzed with a new message from Yujin, your mother’s assistant.
From Yang Yujin
Hello Miss Y/N,
Your mother has asked me to confirm your three attendees for your wedding invitations. The invitations will be sent out on Friday night, so please send your three names with their contact information and address to me by then. If possible, please send it at least one day beforehand as Mrs. Seo would like to review them before I send the invitations out.
Additionally, she has set up another meeting for you with Mr. Min Yoongi on Friday, at 6 pm. Please find the location details below.
Please let me know if you need any other information,
Yang Yujin
You sighed, reading over the email again. For one, you honestly didn’t even know who you’d want to invite. You didn’t really have that many friends outside of Joohee, your colleagues, and Jung Hoseok, your friend from college. You knew that Joohee would already be invited, but you weren’t sure about Hoseok. He wasn’t a part of the same social circle as you and Joohee, especially since he didn’t come from a richer family, but you’d met him in college and introduced him to Joohee soon after. The three of you had been practically inseparable during your undergrad but after graduation, the three of you hadn’t met up in person in a while, with Hoseok in Busan for work. You tapped your chin thoughtfully with the eraser end of a pencil, maybe you should send an invite to Hoseok. Suddenly, another thought occurred to you, making the pencil drop from your fingers and onto your lap.
You hadn’t even told Hoseok about Yoongi!
“Damn,” you muttered, making a mental note to call him later today. You’d figure out the other invites later. Your eyes drifted to the second part of the email.
Another meeting, huh? It sounds like it’ll be just the two of us this time. I wonder if he’ll be any different.
A rap of knuckles against your desk brought your attention back in front of you. Song Ha stood beside your chair, looking at you curiously, “It’s lunch, Team Leader. Want to grab something with the team downstairs?”
Shit, you had agreed to grab lunch with Joohee today.
“No, Miss Choi, I’ll be meeting a friend of mine. But you all enjoy your lunch!”
“Alright, have fun!”
The team slowly filed out, discussing amongst themselves what they’d get from the cafeteria today. You almost longed to go with them, but you knew you had to tell Joohee about the email you got.
You could feel a headache coming on.
Sighing, you stood and gathered your things into your tote bag, never having liked purses, and started the walk towards the elevators to reach the quaint cafe across the street you and Joohee liked to frequent.
You had arrived before Joohee, which was to be expected with your office right across and decided to grab a table for both of you. Setting your tote bag in the seat beside you, you read the email once more on your phone. It dragged another sigh out of you before you almost jumped into the air at the sound of Joohee’s voice.
“What’s got you so melancholy?’
You breathed out to calm your heart rate from the mini jumpscare and looked up at her. She was dressed a bit more formal than you in a light blue blouse and dark navy dress pants that fell gracefully in silk around her long legs with a maroon purse hanging from her shoulder. Her office was much more formal than yours, working under her father. Your own office often had team leaders and higher-ups in jeans, the nature of your work making it more casual, so you contrasted her in a simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans.
“I have to meet Yoongi again on Friday.”
“God damn.”
You nodded somberly as she took her seat across from you, “You remember what happened last time? Why does it feel like he’s gonna eat me alive this time?”
Joohee looked at you suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.
You recoiled, shooting her a glare, “Good God, woman, not like that.”
Joohee relented, waving her hands in surrender, “Okay, well, assume he’ll be the same. Then you won’t be caught off guard. But I think you should still try to get through to him. Maybe, at the very least, you guys can become friends.”
You hummed in agreement, what she was saying made sense. You weren’t exactly hoping for a rom-com drama-like romantic relationship, but being friends wouldn’t be so bad.
A waiter arrived, taking your drink and food orders, and you and Joohee fell back into easy conversation about your jobs and other small gossip. As much as you were trying to pay attention to what Joohee was saying, you couldn’t help your mind returning to Yoongi and his dark eyes scrutinizing you and his cold, biting voice.
“Y/N?”
You focused back into Joohee and her concerned stare dug into you, “What?”
“Are you still thinking about Yoongi?”
You nodded, looking away. You felt bad for not listening to her especially when she had basically given you a solution to your anxiety regarding Friday. You heard her sigh before speaking.
“Listen, Y/N, you can’t stop how he’s going to behave towards you. You can only control how you respond. I think your best bet is to try to tell him you’re not expecting him to treat you like a wife, but you want him to treat you like a friend. Unless that isn’t what you want.”
“No, it is,” you said, keeping yourself from burying your head in your hands, “And you’re right, that’s all I can do. Why didn’t you become a therapist, again?”
Joohee only grinned in response, “I’m too pretty.”
Joohee’s words from earlier echoed in your head for the rest of the workday. Did you really want him to treat you like a friend? Or something more?
You weren’t sure. Of course, you had this half-crush, half-infatuation with the man since you’d met him when you were younger, but marriage was a totally different game. Were you really ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you were attracted to but he couldn’t feel the same?
Maybe he could.
You knocked that thought away as soon as it entered your mind, you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. You knew that Yoongi was less than happy about the situation and the unfavorable circumstances would only serve to further distance him from you. You would have to be okay with just being friends if that.
As you paced around your apartment later that night, you stopped in front of your dresser in your bedroom. In the third drawer from the top was the handkerchief that Yoongi had given you when you were younger. You had kept it meaning to give it back to him, but you had barely seen him since then, let alone had a moment in private to give it to him.
Most of your interactions had been minimal conversations at parties and galas, often accompanied by Joohee and Seokjin. You couldn’t recall a time when Yoongi had actually talked to you directly in any of those scenarios. So why did your crush persist?
Maybe it was the innocence of your first meeting, the cliche of it all. You, small, sad, and alone, and Yoongi, showing up like your knight in shining armor. You had had a fascination with him since then, always trying to seek out his silhouette or pitch-black hair at gatherings afterward. Yet, he never approached you alone, nor did you make an attempt to do so yourself. You had called it an infatuation with Joohee because it really was, you didn’t really know anything about him, much less had a full conversation with him. Even when you were in a group with him, Seokjin, and Joohee, he would barely acknowledge you.
Not that he was obligated to.
You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the mattress. Would you be able to survive actually getting to know Yoongi? Your greatest fear was that you would fall in love with him, you were basically already primed for it. And that would not work out, you knew that, and you refused to consider any other outcome.
You couldn’t afford to get your hopes up.
Turning on your side, you could feel your thoughts drift to your few interactions with him growing up. He had always been polite, but cold. The most he’d said to you was a curt greeting and the barest of small talk. The only other interactions you’d really had were your first meeting and hearing about his escapades through the grapevine, mainly Joohee. Nonetheless, you found yourself infatuated, your eyes finding his slightly round cheeks and pouty lips inevitably. What would life be like once you got married?
You tried to imagine yourself in a domestic setting with Yoongi but quickly shut that down, that would only bring up unwanted feelings. You considered whether or not he would continue seeing other people after you were married. Joohee had said it was very possible. Would you be able to handle it? Joohee had suggested that you fool around a bit yourself but you had quickly dismissed that. Cheating was something you would never tolerate in a relationship, from the other person or from yourself. You knew that the reality would be different in your situation, but you still refused to let yourself stray from Yoongi.
Not that you hadn’t tried in the past. You had been in only two relationships leading up to now, one in college and another as a short burst after graduation. It all felt pointless when you knew you wouldn’t get to choose who you spent the rest of your life with. It was an agony that, along with other factors, ended both of your relationships. Mina had been a bright spot in your life, but she couldn’t deal with the fact that you were not only not out to your parents, but that you would likely not be able to be with her long term anyway. There had been other signs that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and you had tried to remain friends but it didn’t pan out past college.
The relationship after college that had only lasted a few months was with Jaehyun, a sweet man who had been your coworker at your first job out of college. He was very kind to you and you felt comfortable in his presence, but you couldn’t handle the guilt of going out with him while knowing he wouldn’t be the one you marry. To his credit, he had been very understanding when you’d broken down in front of him in a guilt-fueled spiral. He’d held you until you calmed down, wiped your tears, and squeezed you tight before leaving, stating that you could always call him if you needed anything. You still messaged him sometimes, and you remained firm that if you did get to choose who to marry, he would be your first choice.
The arranged marriage had been looming over your life since you were old enough to understand the importance of status to your family. You were sure Yoongi’s family was the same. You were both expected to keep your duty to your family, a repayment for the comfortable life you both had lived. Once or twice you had considered telling your parents you wouldn’t go through with it when the time came, but you knew that it would only result in you having to pay them back for everything they had ever given money towards for you. Even though you’d gotten multiple scholarships for college, your parents insisted you go to a prestigious university that rarely gave any money to their students because they knew their parents would have wide-open wallets. There was no way you’d ever be able to pay that back in your lifetime, especially with your current job.
So you were stuck. But you knew you weren’t really all that unhappy. While the circumstances weren’t what you preferred, you couldn’t deny the small excitement that you felt at the prospect of being able to have a relationship with Yoongi. The caveat to that was also knowing that he was an entirely unwilling participant in this situation, which wasn’t really going to work to your advantage. You were set on remaining a realist, refusing to consider the idea that Yoongi might come to love you. It felt like you didn’t have much of any other choice. Everything about this entire situation made you feel like a passive observer, someone with no impact or voice, which wasn’t far from the truth. You imagined Yoongi was much the same.
Distantly, you wondered how many people Yoongi was allowed to invite to the wedding.
Speaking of! You had almost forgotten to call Hoseok, and it was getting late. You scrambled to reach for your phone, stretching your arm out to the nightstand where your phone sat, and grasping it. Dialing his number, you registered how low his contact was on your recent calls. You really needed to call him more often. Hitting his contact, you waited for the ringing to start. He answered rather quickly, which surprised you, as he was usually an early sleeper.
“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, it has. I missed you. Hobi,” you said, not realizing how much you meant it until the words left your mouth. It really had been too long since you’d called.
“What’s up? You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay,” he questioned, and your heart warmed at his concerned nature. He was always able to read you well, better than Joohee sometimes.
“Yeah, everything’s fine I guess. I’m getting married, actually.”
The other end of the line was silent for a bit before you heard Hoseok let out a breath and speak, “Oh, wow. Okay. How are you feeling?”
You choked out a laugh, “You’re not even asking who I’m marrying?”
“Well, I know that it’s not someone you chose. So I want to know how you’re doing. When did you find out?”
Your laughter died at his serious nature, your attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, “About two months ago. The wedding’s in around six. Want an invite? I get a whole three guests of my own choosing.”
He chuckled softly at that, “Of course I do, you know I’ll be there. But seriously, how are you feeling about this?”
You almost sighed at his unwillingness to let you escape his question, “I don’t know, honestly. I really don’t. I think I’m weirdly at peace with it? I’ve been expecting it for so long and now it’s finally happening. Plus, it being Min Yoongi isn’t exactly the worst thing ever.”
You could hear his surprise over the phone, “Min Yoongi? Like your crush of almost two decades, Min Yoongi?”
You groaned, responding, “Jeez, way to remind me how old I am. Yes, that Min Yoongi. He’s definitely not as okay with it as I am though.”
“What do you mean?”
You recounted the past meeting with his family to Hoseok while he patiently listened and interrupted occasionally to provide his own thoughts. When you finished, you could practically see him falling back against his desk chair, exhaling a burst of air.
“Well, that’s a lot.”
You let out a short laugh, “Yeah, that’s been my life for the past couple of months.”
“I think Joohee gave you some good advice. I’d probably say something similar to you. Try to make the most of the situation but don’t expect a lot from him. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, enough about me, how are you doing? How’s work?”
Hosek launched into recapping how busy the dance school he taught at had been lately and the gossip surrounding his coworkers. You felt yourself relax more into the conversation and slowly forget your troubling feelings surrounding Yoongi.
You would deal with those come Friday.
It was Friday. You made sure to leave work a bit early, giving you enough time to run back to your apartment to change and look presentable. You had chosen your outfit with Joohee’s help the night prior. You were meeting at a relatively fancy restaurant but it was more of a bar, so you didn’t want to be too formal. You had opted for a green dress with a small flower print since you were coming off the winter months into spring. Your dress was an A-line cocktail dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves that cinched at your wrist. You’d had it for a while and knew how it looked on you, and you knew you would feel comfortable in it tonight. The last thing you needed weighing on your mind was getting in your head about how you looked, which you usually felt nauseous from.
With it approaching six, you quickly finished up some minimal makeup, topped it off with a lip tint, and tried your best to make your hair look presentable after what was a long day of work. A glance at your watch told you that you didn’t have much time left, so you rushed to your car, almost forgetting your small purse, and started your drive over to the restaurant. You didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression on Yoongi, although you didn’t know if his impression of you could get any worse.
After you arrived and were sat at your table, you checked your phone to see the time and were relieved to note that you were a couple of minutes early. You felt yourself relax into the booth and started taking slow, calming breaths to slow down your racing heartbeat. The adrenaline of trying to get to the restaurant on time was starting to fade and you took another glance at your watch.
6:06
Well, that’s fine. He’s probably just a little late, you tried to reassure yourself, but you had a sinking feeling. As the minutes marched on, the sinking feeling grew deeper, and you could feel yourself growing slightly annoyed.
6:29
Well, whatever.
You took out your phone from your purse and decided to message him. It should be reasonable, right? You had scheduled this beforehand, after all. Well, not you, your mother, but still, the principle held.
You:
Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Seo Y/N. I’m waiting at the restaurant at the moment
and I was wondering if you were alright, since you weren’t here yet? Please let me know if you’d like to reschedule instead.
You winced at how the text message sounded more like an email between colleagues, but you weren’t sure how casual you were supposed to be with him. Before you could mull over the tone of your message more, you hit the send button and bit your lip as you waited for a response. Your fingers began to pick at your dress in a nervous habit and you kept your eyes trained on the restaurant entrance in case you spotted him.
Finally, at 6:42, you saw the head of black hair that had haunted your dreams as of late. He walked in calmly, looking slightly disheveled, but his lax pace didn’t betray anything about his tardy entrance. He looked infuriatingly attractive in a well-fitted suit with the tie loosened and the top couple of buttons undone. His eyes met yours as the hostess led him to your table and you smiled politely at him, receiving only a cursory nod in return. The waitress quickly approached as he sat down across from you and took his drink order, two fingers of whisky, while you asked for more water. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink, more that you needed to keep your wits about you for this dinner and alcohol would only make you feel nauseous in your already anxious state.
With the waitress gone, he turned to you and you felt yourself flush automatically, something you internally cursed. You wished he didn’t have such an effect on you. He declined to say anything, so you took a moment to take in his appearance now that he was much closer to you.
You could see that his collar was more rumpled than you initially thought and his hair a bit more mussed. You saw a small mark just barely visible from beneath his white button-up, above his tie. Now that he was much closer, you could smell a faint scent of a sweet perfume that you knew wasn’t yours since you had only worn a very light citrus one.
Oh. He was with someone else. Why does that bother me so much?
Finally, he spoke, his deep voice lulling you out of your trance of staring at the mark on his chest, “Sorry I’m late. I saw your text, but I was driving. To be completely honest, I forgot about this.”
For a moment, his apology surprised you. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to apologize. Maybe you’d built him up to be this cartoon villain in your head after your last interaction, but you’d forgotten that he was human just like you.
“That’s alright, it’s no problem,” you responded kindly, noting the way his eyebrow slightly furrowed at your response, “How was your day?”
He raised an eyebrow at you in a questioning manner, “Are you really going to do small talk with me?”
You let out an embarrassed laugh at your failure to engage him and tried for a new tactic instead, “Okay, what would you like to talk about then?”
“I want to set some ground rules.”
Your surprise must’ve shown on your face because you saw the way his expression almost changed to amusement. You quickly shook off the abruptness of the statement and nodded your head, “Okay, like what?”
“First, you’ll be moving into my apartment. I’m sure your mother already told you,” you nodded, “Do not enter my bedroom or office without knocking. I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Second, we keep our lives separate. Unless we need to appear at an event together, we shouldn’t be mingling our private lives, including friends, work, things like that. Thirdly, this marriage is going to be on paper only. Don’t expect me to treat you like my girlfriend, or my wife, because we both know that’s not what this is.”
You felt your teeth take in your bottom lip as you considered his words, “Okay, that’s fine, I guess.” You couldn’t really stop him from wanting to do that, but it still hurt some. Any hopes you had of getting a normal romantic relationship after this were quickly dashed by his next rule.
“Lastly, I want this to be open. Our parents aren’t pressuring us for kids, so we can both find relief elsewhere. We both know this is only for increased stocks and influence in our respective companies. So, I do whatever I want and you do whatever you want in that regard, and we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”
You felt your face fall a bit, but you tried to control your expression. You had prepared for this, Joohee had prepared you for this. So why were you still so upset? He’s giving you the go-ahead to find whoever you want, so it’s not technically cheating. So why does it still feel so wrong?
“Okay,” you said uneasily, “That’s all okay.” It felt like you were saying it more for yourself than for him.
His eyebrow quirked once more. They were very expressive, you noticed.
“That’s it? You don’t have any rules of your own you want to add in?”
Your hands clenched onto the edge of the booth seat, needing something to ground you. Rules of your own? Your head was swimming with everything that had just happened, you could barely think of anything else, “No, none I want to add.”
Yoongi leaned back and clasped his hands, “Alright then. Shall we eat? My dad’s technically paying so eat all you want.”
You shakily took hold of the menu you’d already looked over a hundred times while waiting for him, not wanting to appear rude by being on your phone. You had already chosen what dish you wanted when Yujin had sent you the restaurant name, a habit of yours being to look up the menu beforehand to choose. The waitress approached and took your orders, taking the menu from your hands, leaving you with nothing to grasp your quivering fingers onto.
You looked over at Yoongi, seeing him on his phone, scrolling. You felt yourself blanch at the blatant disregard and couldn’t find it in yourself to try and start a conversation.
The minutes passed by slowly, and you were barely relieved when the food came, providing momentary respite by giving you something to do. You felt like you’d never been in a more awkward situation. The waitress quickly refilled both your drinks, and you noted that Yoongi had ordered water this time. It must be because he’s driving.
Soon, the both of you finished your food, in utter silence. The waitress, who was quite on top of her game, swiftly provided the bill and told you to take your time. You had a feeling she felt the awkward tension as much as you did.
Once the bill was paid, you and Yoongi walked out towards the parking lot where he started shifting to move in the direction of his car before you blurted out, “Wait!”
He turned, facing you with a bored expression, waiting for you to finish speaking.
“I do have a rule actually.”
Seeming slightly intrigued now, he gestured for you to continue.
“I want us to try and be friends. Please.”
He seemed slightly surprised, judging by the way his eyebrows lifted slightly and his mouth parted. Collecting himself, he looked directly into your eyes, his dark orbs boring into your own, “No. I want us to keep our lives completely separate. We’re not friends.”
With that, he turned around and walked to his car, not sparing you another glance.
“Wow, what an asshole.”
You hummed lazily in agreement, feeling your head lull. You were already a bottle deep in more cheap Moscato with Joohee, as well as a couple of shots of strawberry soju.
“I know right! I agreed to whatever he said, why couldn’t he agree with the one thing I asked for?”
Joohee winced and prepared herself for your buzzed anger that was sure to flare up at her next statement, “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. It did conflict with his other rule. Not that I think he’s justified either. There shouldn’t be a problem in being friends.”
Your head snapped towards her, seeing it as a defensive move for Yoongi in your half-drunken state, but before you could find the energy to get upset, you felt yourself melt further into the couch, “Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Whatever, I don’t need him. I’ll just fuck anyone who looks my way, instead.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No, I won’t,” you cried, collapsing onto the pillow beside you, squeezing it tight, “Why am I so pathetic?”
“You’re not,” Joohee cooed, “You’re just in a shitty situation. So is he, but at least you’re not being a dick about it.”
You nodded glumly, still not feeling better about the situation. As you cradled the now-empty wine bottle to your chest, you remembered Hoseok.
“Oh yeah, I invited Hobi for the wedding. My coworker, Song Ha too. Can you believe I couldn’t think of a third person?”
Joohee laughed before throwing herself onto the couch with you, “Hey, you don’t need other friends, you have me. Besides, we’ll all be together again, then! It feels like forever since we’ve seen him.”
“Yeah, I told him and he said the same stuff as you. To try and make the best of it, or whatever,” you could feel yourself becoming less and less sober, “Can I crash here tonight?”
“Of course, do you want me to wash your dress for you?”
“No, I’ll just do it at my place. Thank God I have you.”
Joohee only laughed loudly in response, getting up to grab another bottle of soju from the fridge. The two of you lounged around before moving to watch TV in Joohee’s bed where she promptly fell asleep. Soothed by her snoring, you relaxed into her comfortable mattress and traced the light extrusions on her ceiling. Your thoughts soon drifted to Yoongi, as they seemed to do often these days.
Was he really fair in rejecting your friendship? Joohee had made a good point earlier in that it certainly conflicted with his rule of ignoring each other outside of obligated functions. But…you didn’t want that. So why did you agree? In the moment, it hadn’t really felt like you’d had another choice. You seemed to be feeling like that a lot lately.
Yoongi seemed serious about this marriage being for business only and you knew that you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t exactly tell him as such. You couldn’t be more sure that he would only be disgusted if he heard you say that and you didn’t think you’d be able to survive seeing that kind of emotion on his face when it’s directed towards you.
Not that you’d be able to survive this marriage either.
Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of the sleep shorts you’d borrowed from Joohee, a frequent occurrence whenever you stayed over, and you saw her shift in her sleep. She really had been so supportive throughout this whole thing.
Maybe you should go to her brother for help? No, Yoongi would probably hate that.
You resisted the urge to kick your feet in frustration out of fear of waking up Joohee. This was so difficult, it was next to impossible to figure out what your next move should be.
You had a nagging feeling that your mother wouldn’t force you to meet up with Yoongi anymore before the wedding, but why did that not feel like a clear-cut win? Did you want to meet with Yoongi again?
Rubbing at your eyes frantically, you pushed aside the flurry of questions stirring inside you. You didn’t have time to deal with this. There was a large project at work that was in its final stages that you needed your full attention on and then the final beta tests before the official launch, just weeks before your wedding. You couldn’t afford to spend another moment thinking about Yoongi.
As you got more comfortable in Joohee’s bed, you turned your head to face the clock on her bedside table, reading 3:09 AM.
A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your eyes closed to try and get some rest.
You had an inkling that Yoongi would be occupying your thoughts whether you wanted it or not.
“We’ll be meeting for the rehearsal dinner in one week, Yujin will send you the information and instructions. Don’t be late.”
Your mother’s voice cut off after that, not bothering to say goodbye before ending the call. You could feel your headache coming back and you fumbled for your water bottle before getting up to grab a red ginseng packet from the breakroom. Things had been a lot lately.
The final preparations for the wedding were underway and your mother was leaving nothing to chance. Your dress had been fitted to perfection with your mother sending you a strict diet and workout plan to make sure you stayed the exact same size until the wedding. That email had been swiftly archived.
You weren’t even sure of who was in your bridal party other than Joohee being your maid of honor. Not that it mattered. This wedding wasn’t for you anyway.
As you slowly sucked out the paste from the ginseng packet, leaning against the break room counter, you wondered if Yoongi had had to go through similar procedures, though likely less extensive. You hadn’t heard from him since that dinner where he’d firmly placed a boundary between you, but he’d rarely left your mind since. You’d hoped that the reality check with Yoongi might help clear you of your feelings for him, but, instead, they only deepened your desire to get to know him better, to break past that boundary. But you knew that those ideas were merely fairy tales and this marriage was not going to be one by any means.
Distantly, you wondered how the ceremony would go. The two of you hadn’t prepared any vows, nor were you expected to. This wedding was not a show of love and everyone knew that. Your parents weren’t concerned with making it appear as though you and Yoongi were a loving couple, no, this wedding was more of an excuse to show off their wealth and influence. Your nuptials were merely a byproduct. Still, would you have to kiss Yoongi?
You quickly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the mental image, feeling your cheeks flush hot. Yet, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You imagined his lips would be soft and gentle, that he would lead you through the kiss and deepen it for more. His hands would come to rest at your waist before encircling it, pulling you closer, flush, to his body.
No! You can’t imagine that, you’re not allowed!
Internally, you scoffed. What kind of girl wasn’t allowed to imagine kissing her fiance? You knew the truth, however, that it wasn’t your place to imagine yourself in that position. That was reserved for the person he loved, who was, decidedly, not you.
Tossing the packet, you made your way back to your way back to your desk. Settling into the pillowed surface of your chair, you browsed through your emails before noticing one from the marketing team.
From: [email protected]
RE: MIRA’S AWAKENING Influencer Advertising
Hello Team Leader Seo,
We have decided that we would like to reach out to online influencers and streamers to assist in promoting Project Mira’s Awakening. A list of possible candidates is attached, along with their profiles and viewer analytics. We would like your input on any public figures you believe may be good candidates for this endeavor. Please reach out if you and your team come up with any candidates that are not already included in the attached file.
Additionally, we would like to create merchandise to provide for these public figures and we need to confirm with you and Graphics Team 2 on graphics we can include on merchandise items. You will find a list of items we are looking to make, along with graphics suggestions, attached as well. Please coordinate with GT 2 to send over finalized ideas and start creating the images.
Thank you,
Team Leader Lim
You considered the contents, feeling the eraser of your pencil tap against your lip, who could you suggest? You had your favorite streamers, but none aligned that well with the nature of the game you were producing, which meant the viewer base wouldn’t have enough crossover with your target audience. Running through a list of the streamers you watched regularly in your head, you stopped at one in particular.
Goldenboy97.
Jeon Jeongguk was quite popular and played enough combat-based games to have sufficient audience crossover, while still being intriguing for the puzzle aspect of the game. Not that you were biased, but he was your favorite creator at the moment. You jotted down his handle and a note to ask the rest of your team about their thoughts.
Leaning back in your chair, you stared blankly at the screen as the emails continued flooding in. Slowly, but surely, your thoughts drifted back to the phone call with your mother. The wedding was next week, with the rehearsal dinner only being seven days away.
You felt a strange combination of dread and giddiness, a swirl of emotional turmoil you weren’t ready to unpack. Hoseok was coming back tonight and you were picking him up from the train station. You’d probably have time to process your emotions then. Hoseok was staying at your apartment in the guest bedroom for a couple of weeks so he could be there through the whole wedding process. He had also mentioned looking for an apartment to move into in Seoul, which made you excited. You really wanted to have the college dream team together again.
The thoughts of the actual wedding were stoking your nerves, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since the last time you’d met. You weren’t sure of the protocol or if you should try to talk to him beforehand, especially about the ceremony. Too cowardly to act on your anxiety, you shut off your opened messaging app on your phone. You weren’t keen on finding out how Yoongi would respond to an unprompted message.
The sound of your team packing up alerted you to the time, being slightly past five. You joined them in getting ready to leave before heading to the elevator. The rest of the group trekked slightly ahead while Song Ha walked slightly slower to stay back with you.
“So, the wedding is next week. Are you excited?”
You chuckled nervously, “Yeah, you could call it that.”
“Ah, are you nervous? Makes sense. Just think, though, soon, you’ll be married to the love of your life! How exciting!”
Your insides felt queasy. You hadn’t told Song Ha about the nature of your relationship with your betrothed because you weren’t exactly sure how to explain it to someone who wasn’t familiar, nor did you want to deal with the embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”
You bit your lip, “Nowhere, actually. We couldn’t get time off of work at the same time.” The honeymoon had long been decided as an unnecessary expense, and neither you nor Yoongi complained. Being stuck with him for weeks after the wedding in another country sounded like a nightmarish situation. You wouldn’t have minded a vacation though.
“Gosh, that sucks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to do something over the summer, maybe,” Song Ha pouted, swinging her work bag in line with her step. You smiled at her naivete.
“Yeah, hopefully.”
“Hobi!”
You ran towards the taller man, throwing your arms around his upper body, “I missed you! It feels so nice to have you back in Seoul.”
Feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, you squeezed him harder before releasing him.
“Feels good to be back too,” he responded, a bright, heart-shaped smile adorning his face, “Let me get my bags to your car.”
“Oh, right, let me help,” you nodded, reaching for the bigger suitcase to roll towards your car. Hoseok easily picked up the duffel bag lying at his feet and followed behind you. You had opted for driving to the station since his train had come too late for the buses to still be running, and you didn’t want to have to deal with paying for or lugging his baggage into a cab.
After loading the luggage into your trunk, you both settled into the front seats of your well-worn car. You heard Hoseok chuckle while clicking in his seatbelt, “This certainly feels different from the drunk bus and taxi rides back to the campus dorms. Even if it’s about the same level as luxury.”
You rolled your eyes, “Hey, my car is reliable. The previous owner only had it for a couple of years before selling it off and she’s been perfectly good since then. Though, my mom would probably agree with you on the luxury bit.”
“Yeah, well, who wants to listen to her opinion anyway. Before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here, I know it’ll probably be annoying with the wedding prep going on.”
“It’s no problem, seriously. Besides, a lot of my stuff’s been moved over to Yoongi’s for when I move after the wedding. I’m just keeping my apartment there in case I need it since I won’t be paying rent at Yoongi’s.” Keeping the lease on your apartment had been a conscious decision because you had figured you’d want a safe space away from the marriage drama and it wouldn’t be an extra hit to your income. What your mother and Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
“Has he really paid off his entire apartment? You’re marrying a proper chaebol,” Hoseok joked.
You laughed lightly, a tinge of awkwardness at the idea that you really were, and you had no idea how he’d act in his own house. Tapping your fingers along the steering wheel, you tried to subtly change the topic, “Well, speaking of apartments, do you know where you’re going to be looking?”
Hoseok launched into a detailed plan he had for looking at rental properties in Seoul for both his apartment and the studio he wanted to open. You excitedly listened along, thrilled that he was planning on settling near you, as you drove to your own apartment.
After you’d parked, Hoseok insisted on taking the large suitcase, claiming that only he was strong enough to lug it up the stairs. You only laughed a little bit at his sour expression when you showed him the perfectly working elevator.
Punching in the code to your apartment, you swung open the door, making sure not to step food inside. A loud pop rang out and confetti sprayed out from the doorway.
“Surprise!”
Hoseok stumbled back, clutching at his chest and mouth agape at Joohee’s excited smile from inside the apartment, “Shit, Joohee, you scared me!”
You laughed loudly before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it inside, setting the duffel bag on top. Joohee began cleaning up the mess of confetti, Hoseok started to unpack what he’d need for the night, and you began unboxing the pizza that had arrived while Joohee was setting up.
As the three of you settled into your living room, Hoseok already teasing Joohee, you felt like a void in your heart had been filled. The last few months had been so stressful and it hadn’t felt like you’d gotten a break emotionally in so long. The sounds of your friends chattering and laughing made you feel at ease. So, naturally, Hoseok had to ruin that.
“So, Y/N, how are you feeling about the rehearsal next week? Or the wedding, for that matter.”
You shifted in your position on the loveseat, feeling yourself frown, “Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect. I can’t believe I’ll be married in just over a week.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you continued, “I haven’t talked to Yoongi in like six months. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
You could feel yourself spiraling, but you had been holding in so many emotions that it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “Honestly, I’m really scared. I don’t want this to be my life forever. I’m not ready, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
Joohee got up from her spot on the couch to hug you, Hoseok joining soon after. Something about their touch comforting you pushed you over the edge, the dam broke, and tears began streaming down your cheeks. You sniffled pathetically, hating the level of vulnerability you were currently displaying. You hadn’t cried throughout this whole experience, but in the comforting presence of your closest friends, you couldn’t help it.
“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to marry him if it’s going to be like this. Why does my life have to be this way? Why can’t I be normal?”
Joohee and Hoseok only squeezed you in response, not having an answer to your questions. Your tears continued on until you couldn’t cry anymore and Joohee finally released you. She stood and smiled kindly at you, “Do you want me to get you anything?”
“Water, please,” you said raspily, throat dry from all the crying. Joohee nodded before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with Hoseok who had shoved himself into the loveseat to further comfort you.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly muffled by burying your face in Hoseok’s soft, cotton shirt.
“You know you can always talk to us. I wish I could change this for you, that you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, stroking your hair.
“It is what it is,” you said, feeling much more mellow now that you’d cried out all your overwhelming emotions.
“Still,” Hoseok insisted, “He has no reason to be such a jerk.” You shrugged, you felt the same but there wasn’t much you could do to change that.
Joohee returned with a cup of water which you gratefully took and sipped. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, and a headache coming on, you tapped Hoseok to get off of you, to which he complied and clambered off the loveseat.
“Sorry guys, I’m just so exhausted now. I really appreciate you being here, but I think I’m going to head to bed,” you stated, hugging both of them, before starting to gather the trash to clean up.
Joohee laid a hand on your shoulder to stop you, “Go, get some rest. We’ll clean up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Hoseok exclaimed, and pushed you towards your bedroom, “Go to bed!”
Laughing, you acquiesced and headed into your bedroom to get ready to sleep. As you went through your nightly routine, you felt yourself feeling a bit calmer about the upcoming week. You had your two closest friends by your side.
You were ready to handle anything that Yoongi threw at you.
Probably.
Yoongi lightly swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers as he sat at his desk in his brown leather chair. By this time next week, he would be getting married.
His eyes drifted towards the manila folder lying at the edge of his desk, a small water stain on the corner. Inside were the files on his soon-to-be wife, Seo Y/N. He took a sip of his whiskey, the smoky flavour traveling down his throat, as he considered his fiancee.
He didn’t know what to make of her. She just seemed so meek and obedient, which wasn’t at all appealing. He didn’t remember much of her from before the arrangement, aside from vague interactions between them and the Kim siblings. She had seemed quite timid then too.
Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, setting his glass on his desk. He didn’t want to do this marriage. It was a chore, really.
Yoongi didn’t necessarily have anyone he was looking to marry, but having to pretend to be exclusive with some girl he didn’t care about wasn’t conducive to the bachelor lifestyle he’d cultivated. He’d set his ground rules, and she’d agreed, pretty easily, another thing that irked Yoongi.
Couldn’t she stand up for herself? Or say anything at all that was her own opinion?
Yoongi drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he supposed she had said something that night. She’d wanted to be friends. He hadn’t been expecting that.
He figured it might be some condition about how she didn’t want to work or for him to stop seeing other people, but, instead, she’d simply asked for his friendship. And he’d refused.
Of course he did, it went against his other rule. He wanted to keep his life separate from this artificial marriage and that included remaining nothing but acquaintances. He’d have to be steadfast, he decided. That night, when he’d seen your imploring expression with hope shining in your eyes, he’d almost agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was, or if he even wanted to know, but he couldn’t let it happen again.
Despite your docile and unassuming nature, you were dangerous. And you didn’t seem to know it, which made you all the more so.
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#yoongi#yoongi fic#bts yoongi#min yoongi#yoongi smut#min yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#bts fic recs#yoongi x you#bangtan#bangtan smut#bangtan fanfic#bangtan x reader#bangtan fic#bts fic#bts smut#bts#bts fanfic#bts imagine#bts x reader#bts x you#min yoongi fanfiction#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi fanfic#myg x reader#myg fic#myg smut#myg#myg angst#asingledaffodil
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Your Guardian Angel
Sunday x g/n!reader
Summary: oh guardian angel, my sweet guardian angel. Save me, Save me. If you can't, what're you truly for? When your angel loves you, when he betrays destiny for you; only for his wings to be chipped at the expense of a helpless attempt.
Cw. Very angsty, falling in love (but it's forbidden), religious references (specifically Christian topics) AU where ppl can talk to their angels lol, mentions of self harm but no actual scene with it!!!, no bandaid can fix the emotional wound after reading this. SOME fluff, no comfort like usual. 🫨🫨🫨 YOU DIE!
A/n: I'm on fire (like literally. It's 36° here.)
Your knees burn as you stare up at the altar displayed in front you, you wonder if the aeons would be kind enough to finally send you your guardian angel.
“Please,” you begged, wishing any god to heed your call, “Just this once I'll ask.”
“Send me someone kind, someone to protect me.”
That day, fate was generous enough to grant you your angel.
A chill ran down your spine, rubbing your eyes for good measure to make sure you weren't dreaming.
“You called?”
You gulp nervously, the being's halo blinding you.
One, he reached his hand out to you, his smile all you needed to feel okay.
Your guardian angel accompanies you whenever you go out to buy groceries, when your fingers trace along the unhealthy snack bar, he's quick to tut and swat your hand away.
“That's unhealthy, dear.”
“But—”
“Just this once?”
He shook his head no, feeling distraught, you devised a plan to grab a pack of double chocolate cookies; much to his dismay.
Who did you think you were fooling?
“Dear, I said no.”
You sighed, “Just one?”
Out of all the humans on the list, why'd he pick you? But when you smile at him so brightly, out of every human he's ever guided, he's still unsure of his answer—
Your shoulders slump, “Pretty please?”
He exhales an exasperated sigh, letting you win over him just this once.
“Fine.”
— Maybe he is, Maybe he isn't.
There were times nightmares were unkind and brutal that you'd wake up in cold sweat. Your mind flashing you memories of the past you wished to lock away, you'd pray again.
“Dear, wake up,” that familiar soothing voice ringing in your ears.
Where? The shackles of that dream still bruise you harshly, yet your loving guardian angel is there to soothe your scars.
“It's okay.”
It's not okay, you know.
No words were exchanged when he took your hand in his, his honey eyes seeing through you, “Just breathe.”
Your tears found solace in his shoulder as he patted your back, letting you cry it all out, “It hurts, Sunday.”
“I know,” his gloved hand wiping your tears gently, “I know.”
Like a child, for many dreadful nightmares to come, you cry and cry for him to relieve you of this pain. You needn't to get on your knees and ask the aeons for comfort. All you need to do is shed a single tear and he'll kiss them away.
Two, your oh so sweet guardian angel, he drives them all away.
Years pass and you've grown used to your guardian angel, you'd find him taking the form of an owl.
Like one time, you were in class— culinary class to be specific. Who knows what aeon decided to ruin your day and made you trip on a puddle of leftover batter on the tiled floor.
“Eek—!”
You'd think you'd hit head first but something held you up, when you turned around, there was no one there.
The owl perched on the branch just outside the window, shook its head in dismay, once again, you don't die today.
He may save you from all catastrophes but he cannot save you from impending doom.
As an angel, by all means, he has every right to read your destiny; woven by lord Xipe, of course.
Eyes narrowing at the scroll, your life ends early when you get roped into an unforeseen accident at a public event.
“Sunday, dear. 5 days until your host departs,” his beloved lord's voice echoing the room as they loom over his shoulder to watch your end unfold.
“We should find you a new human.”
Sunday trembled at the sight, a memory he wishes to never replay again. You were in an event and some drunkard decides to shoot it all up, bullets ablaze as you get caught in the crossfire.
“I…”
I mustn't disobey lord Xipe.
“Yes, lord Xipe,” he gave a weak smile to his god, your death still replaying.
How could he be fine?
When you tell him of your dreams, how you'd leave this wretched city, leave penacony and write your own fate; when destiny had already set yours in stone.
“Do you think I'll become big in the industry?”
The sunset falls upon you too and he doesn't have it in him to tell you what's bound to happen to you, “Yes.”
“You sound hesitant.”
“I'm just thinking.”
It wasn't often you see Sunday like… this.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “It's nothing.”
You two have been together long enough that it only takes you a second to realise the shift in the atmosphere, “Whatever, I'm going to be successful and we'll travel.”
He wonders if you noticed the way his wings are stiffening at your words, he may be an angel, “Sure,” but he is a liar first.
He doesn't want to think about it, he doesn't want to remember.
Your curious eyes never leave him, he wishes it did. He wishes he never got too attached.
That disgustingly sweet smile of yours, you'll never know that it made home in his head.
“Here,” he wore the rosary in your hand, it felt comforting feeling his gloved hand against your skin, “What is this for?”
He still doesn't have the courage to look you in the eye knowing 3 days from now they'd be devoid of light, “For protection, to show devotion to our god.”
You let out a hum of approval, admiring the beads.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes”
“I'm glad.”
Fleeting moments like these don't last. But when he musters up the courage to look you in the eyes again; he wishes that Lord Xipe was loving enough that this moment would.
Destiny is a strange thing. It gives you time to dream but never enough time to do.
Just where the hell were you?
Sunday panics as he flies over the crowd, exactly a minute before your death.
Lord Xipe must be cruel, watching from the stars as he scurries in the mortal realm like a rat to save a mere mortal like you.
“Sunday?”
‘Bang.’
You hear gunshots piercing the skies and those beside you.
“What's happening—”
“Just shut up,” angels were not allowed to be this crude but for your sake, he covered your eyes as he led the two of you behind a pillar.
Your gut instinct tells you to run but you've grown to trust him enough with your life. How could you not when he gently wraps his arms around your trembling figure?
“S-sun… day…,” you cried, feeling something piercing your stomach.
But how? He… he saved you didn't he?
“Stay calm,” he scolds you as if he wasn't scrambling around his options on how to save you, “Please.”
He prays, “Lord Xipe, please.”
But songs stay unsung, prayers remain unheard.
He cries to the sky as crimson stains his gloves, his holy tears cannot patch your wounds. His prayers cannot fix you. If he had known, he would not have sung those odes to lord Xipe, if only he had known his god's mercy was nothing but just strings of fallacies.
“Lord Xipe!”
An agonising scream that transcends the barrier of heaven and earth, yet his beloved god turned their back on him.
Your eyes shut then he felt the hand that intertwined with him go limp, “Lord Xipe.”
In desperate sobs, “Please.”
No amount of begging would bring you back, just like his sister, Robin, you are dead, you are gone.
Not being able to save you— he's betrayed you.
He kissed your cheek before letting death take you.
My God, why have you forsaken me?
He has no time to mourn, “It burns,” under the scrutinising gaze of the divine, his wings turn charcoal black.
Lord Xipe is all forgiving yet they have abandoned him for something so little.
A god so forgiving, yet when Sunday looks down at his hands, only a shade of balsam and black stare back at him.
There is no redemption for his sin, there is no redemption for either of you.
You can no longer dream, he can no longer dream with you.
His halo crumbles into ash and an undeniably painful grief fills him, “Lord xipe.”
His radiant halo no more, only to be replaced by the glow of the sunset like a crown of thorns.
He cries again, his god is gone and you are too.
Note: forgive me if its kinda shit, i really can't think of an angst idea for sunday that isn't yandere since im not rlly big about yan tropes anddd not proofread. I hope y'all enjoyed it tho, i just needed to get this idea out of my brain. Sunday is vv manipulative but i js wanted to write a ver of him thats just gentle ISTFGGGGGG
Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡
#what have i done#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr fluff#hsr x reader#sunday x reader#sunday fluff#hsr sunday#hsr angst#hsr sunday x reader#honkai star rail sunday#honkai star rail sunday x reader
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T. A. R (Time, Appreciation, Respect)
(I'll always want you part 2)
Synopsis: Ony was calling Y/N constantly these days, trying to always reach out to talk and say his piece. Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready for it.
C.W. Angst, Black coded reader, Drug use (weed). Song links used as reference.
Fanfic inspired by the following song.
Solange: Cranes in the sky
Link for part one here
Time had passed since your confrontation with Ony on that fateful night. The sting of betrayal still lingered, casting a shadow over your every thought and action. You still find herself unable to shake the memories of everything that took place between you and Ony and the raw emotions it had unleashed.
It's 2:30 AM. You lie awake, replaying the conversation with Ony in your mind. A part of you acknowledges he may be right, yet you find it impossible to converse without being overwhelmed by emotions.
You heard Annie out on her part to play in all this but not Ony. You didn't have class until 2pm today so you had enough time to sleep some more if needed. You got out of bed, stretched, went to your desk to journal to clear your mind.
You lit the candle on your desk, opened your journal and poured your feelings into it. The pen felt heavy in your hand, similar to how your heart felt in your chest. You wrote about the confusion swirling within you, torn between the logic of Ony's words and the ache of betrayal that still lingered deep within your soul. Memories flashed through your mind of happier times, of sad times and every moment in between. You knew you should hear him out but, you couldn't decide if you were ready or not.
You closed the journal and texted Sasha to see if she was awake. You needed someone to talk to. Sasha responded almost immediately saying she's in the area, so she'd be over in a few and she has Connie and Eren with her.
You sighed and responded. You went to your kitchen to make a quick midnight snack for you and your quests. 15 mins later, at your apartment is Sasha, Connie and Eren.
Connie: "Is it okay if I smoke in here. Between Uni, my music shit and other shit. I'm stressed out."
You: "It's cool. I do smoke sometimes, well used to with Ony. Speaking of Ony. He's been calling my phone nonstop.
*Turns to Eren* He said you've been on his ass about me. Eren the fuck you on boy.
Eren sighed "Look I'm just looking out for him. Ony is taking this harder that I've seen him take anything. Him and I go way back. Ony only shows up to class, messages me for some weed well hella weed. He aint even in the studio much either."
You knew Eren, Connie, Mikasa and Ony were music majors at Paradis University which you all attended. Eren was the lowkey producer type that makes beats to rival the greats. Connie is a rising hip hop artist and Ony is a cross between Trap Soul and Rap. Mikasa was the soulful girl with a beautiful voice. You knew Ony never missed studio time for nothing, so you knew he was struggling.
"When last did he show up." Y/N asked Eren with some concern in her tone.
"Probably 2 months ago before that it was 3 months before that. Look you don't have to force yourself to talk to him or bear his wounds or help him heal from the mess he made on his own. It ain't your job to, What I'm asking is if you can hear him out even if its 5 minutes if you can't then Imma tell him to drop it."
You sat in silence for a bit truly wondering what to do, so you turned to Sasha. "Honestly I want to hear him out, I do but I need more time. I know everyone thinks I forgave Annie so easy, but Ony and I had something deeper than Annie and I had even with our years of friendship. Ya we were fighting and at odds that time but..I know I'm being dumb cause Annie is just as responsible as he was. I just need to clear my head some more."
Connie took a toke of his joint and passed it to Eren then Eren to Sasha. Sasha pulled out her phone and connected it to the speakers in your apartment and started playing L.E.S by Childish Gambino. They all passed the joint around the room you took a few hits here and there. Eren was mindlessly scrolling through his IG to see Ony posted a 15 sec video on IG with a link in the caption to his YouTube to his latest track Amphetamine.
Eren blurted out with a bit of shock, "What the fuck, Ony just dropped a new song. It looks like he changed his artist's name from Ony to Soro. I mean he mentioned the change last time he came in the studio. Yo Sasha disconnect real quick lemme listen to this real quick."
Sasha disconnected her phone to allow Eren to pull up the track. " The song is almost 8 mins WTF is Ony on" Eren says.
The beat kicks in with this smooth, laid-back vibe that immediately hooks you in. Everyone's silent giving the track a listen.
" It's like an amphetamine, how it marinate on my mind (stuck on me, yah) Got no doubt I'll be alright, if I just make it through the night."
You can hear, almost feel the range of emotions in the song. You can hear Ony's voice pouring out his feelings. The beat changes around 2:48 seconds in giving a whole different vibe to the song.
"Shawty cold as December, I still fold her, no Manila B-b-b-brr wit me baby, I hibernate, smoke the lettuce."
Everyone was vibing with the song until they heard Mikasa's voice drop on the track around 4:28 Everyone a bit surprised since Mikasa doesn't easily do features even if it's with her friends. Connie laughed a bit "He got Mikasa on this with him. Damn he really went all out. Aye Eren aint this the same beat he said he didn't want around 5 maybe 6 months ago?" Eren laughed thinking back to when he played this beat for Ony, and he said he hated it. Ony owed him big time for this, but he'll circle back to it. As the song finished. You sat with your eyes full of tears. You thought to yourself that you could feel every emotion Ony sang about in the song. The loss of their relationship, his struggles with his mental health and so much more.
Connie was the first the chime in when the song ended "Damn that was.... deep." "Yah it was Ony really flipped the script on this one." Eren chimed in.
Eren got a notification that Ony was live on IG. He clicked on it. He saw he was talking about his just dropped song and other usual shit that's going on in his life.
Ony's eyes were the newfound usual shade of slight bloodshot red from smoking and hardly any sleep. He was reading off a comment asking him who inspired him to write the song. he responded with "Someone but also no one."
Ony's voice flowed through the speakers in your apartment causing Eren to disconnect his phone to watch the live a bit easier.
He commented saying "Fire track man, wish you'd let me know you were droppin a song man."
Ony read the comment out loud and smirked and said "Sorry man. I wanted it to be a personal project, but I owe you one big time for the beat."
Ony and Eren were engaging in their usual banter in the comments of Ony's Instagram live. You were deep in thought when Ony read aloud a comment from someone claiming his song was inspired by his ex-girlfriend. Ony and you had a semi-public relationship, which is due to his rising fame as a Trap Soul/rap artist.
Ony sighed, his mind drifting back to the last time he saw you in person, when you came to return his belongings from your place. He had seen you around campus since then, but it simply wasn't the same. His response was "It was inspired by pain. Pain of loss, loss of love, loss of hopes, loss of dreams. Loss of self. She's part of something I lost in my life."
Ony paused, his gaze drifting off as he recalled the bittersweet memories. He took a deep breath, trying to push away the ache in his chest as he continued, his voice laden with emotion. "So yeah, she's part of what I lost, but 'Amphetamine' is also about finding myself again. It's about reclaiming my voice, my truth, and pouring it all out into my music."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though sadness lingered in his eyes. "Maybe one day she'll hear this song and understand. Understand that she's not just a memory, but a muse who ignited something within me, something I'll carry with me forever."
With that, Ony concluded, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. The live disconnected indicating he ended it abruptly.
As the live session ends abruptly, the room falls into a heavy silence. You, sits with a mix of emotions swirling within yourself. Ony's words echo in your mind, resonating deeply with your own conflicted feelings. You can't shake the sense of nostalgia and longing that his music and words evoke. Sasha breaks the silence, her voice soft yet determined. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asks, her concern evident.
You took a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. "I don't know, Sasha," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sasha nods understandingly, her eyes reflecting empathy. "I get it. It's hard to hear someone express their pain so openly, especially when it's intertwined with your own." Eren chimes in, his tone reflective. "Yeah, but maybe that's what he needs right now. It's better than him bottling it up and tryna smoke it all away."
Connie exhales a puff of smoke, his expression contemplative. "True, but it's also a lot to unpack. Y/N, you don't have to rush into anything. Take your time to process everything, to figure out what you need and want. What Ony did was messed up"
You nod, grateful for your friends' support. "Thanks, guys. I think…I think I need some time alone to sort through my thoughts."
With that que, Eren, Sasha and Connie left your apartment. you walk through your apartment heading to your room, the melody of Ony's song still echoing in your mind. Your emotions even more confusing than when you talked to Ony earlier. You looked at the time. It was almost 5 am. You decided to shower and head back to bed, hoping to get some rest before class.
Your mind was restless, torn between Ony's latest track and his words during the IG live, you were conflicted. On one hand, you acknowledged missing him, but on the other, infidelity was something you could never condone in a relationship. You recognized a desire to listen to his explanation, yet you feared your heart might not endure his version of the events.
The weight of Ony's words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating your mind with intense thoughts. Alone amidst the dim glow of your bedside lamp, the words "Maybe one day she'll hear this song and understand." taunt you with the possibility of reconciliation and closure. You thought to yourself "How could I ever hope to understand the depths of his pain when my own wounds still bleed with the memory of his betrayal?"
Finally entering your room, you sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in trembling hands, desperate to silence the cacophony of thoughts threatening to consume you.
"Take your time to process everything, to figure out what you need and want." Connie's words echo faintly in her mind. With a trembling sigh, you rise from the bed, your steps faltering as you make your way to the bathroom. The steady stream of water cascades over your trembling form, washing away the tears that stain your cheeks.
"It's 5 am. I should try to get some rest before class," you think to yourself. Climbing out of the shower, your limbs feel heavy. Wrapping yourself in a towel, the fabric offers a feeble shield against the lingering chill. You dress slowly, abandoning your usual routine for the simple comfort of bed, seeking to calm your mind. Eventually, you drift into sleep, the confusion in your heart, perhaps even greater than before.
*Slight Time Skip*
You finished up her class for the evening, your Textile Science class drained your mind. you run into Eren, Connie, Armin and Pieck in the courtyard chattin it up.
"Yo, Y/N!" Armin hollered, his grin wide as he motioned for her to come over. You gave a small nod, casually strolling over as they kept chattin'. It helped take your mind off things for a sec.
"So, y'all ready for tonight?" Armin asked, his eyes sparklin' with excitement. "Tonight?" you echoed, feeling a bit lost.
Armin leaned in closer, speakin' low like it was a secret. "The party, It's goin' down at my place. everybody's rolling through." You thought about if Ony was gonna be there since going Armin's parties was one of their go to things as a couple.
You shifted uncomfortably, tryna come up with an excuse to bail but before you could say anythin', Sasha and Mikasa slid through, bringin' a burst of energy to the scene. "Hey, y'all!" Sasha greeted; her smile infectious as she pulled you into a hug.
Mikasa gave a nod, her expression serious as she peeped Y/N with concern.
"Y/N, you gotta come through tonight," Pieck chimed in, her voice smooth and persuasive. "You never show up to the parties, and it's gonna be lit." Y/N hesitated, caught between the comfort of being alone and the fear of missing out on the squad's vibe.
Just then, Ony strolled past, casting a shadow over Y/N's mood. She felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside, memories of their messy situation flooding back.
Armin, clueless as ever, turned to Ony with a hopeful grin. "Yo, you coming tonight, Ony?"
Ony glanced at you for a sec before turning back to Armin, his face unreadable. But before he could answer, you spoke up with fire in your voice. "I ain't showing if he's gonna be there," you stated, pointing your finger at Ony with a fierce look.
The air got heavy; the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N's heart raced as she waited for Ony's response. But instead of coming back at you, Ony just nodded quietly, his eyes holding a hint of regret before he dipped out.
You caught the concerned glances of your friends. You knew your emotions were a bit confusing being torn between wanting to hear him out, missing him then not wanting to be around him. Even though almost much time had passed, her emotions still felt raw.
You looked around to your friend group who was gauging your reaction to seeing Ony. Each stare, felt like a trap a push to make a decision you weren't ready for.
"I can't do this," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step back, your eyes darting between your friends and a mental escape route. Sasha's hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks, her grip firm yet gentle. "You can't run from this forever, Y/N, you're gonna have to address this or find the will to move on" she said softly, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. You stared at Sasha's face trying to gauge her facial expression and reaction "I know, Sash I know." you whispered hoarsely, your voice cracking with emotion. "But I'm not ready to face him, not yet. I don't know if I ever will be."
With that said you turned and left them there, briskly walking back to catch an uber back to your apartment.
----------------------------While you left-----------------------------------
Eren stared at Armin, scoffing with annoyance "Bro, how you gonna forget they ain't together no more? Ony straight up did her dirty with Annie."
Armin sighed and took a step back. "I know but they're both my friends and I want them both to be happy and come out more. guess I messed up by asking them out around each other. It's just that we hardly get to chill with both of them around, you know...it's tough."
Eren shook his head, his frustration evident in his furrowed brow. "I get that, Armin, but you gotta realize it's not just about them being happy. Ony really hurt Y/N, man. And seeing him around just brings back all that pain."
Armin's shoulders slumped in defeat, his expression reflecting the weight of his guilt. "I know, Eren, I know," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just... I don't know how to fix this mess."
Sasha, who had been listening quietly, spoke up with a sympathetic tone. "Maybe there's no quick fix, Armin. Sometimes all we can do is give them space and time to heal, you know?"
Connie nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah, sometimes the best thing we can do is just be there for them when they're ready to talk or when they need us."
Armin sighed; his gaze heavy with regret. "You're right," he admitted, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I just hope they both find their way through this, somehow."
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#aot angst#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x black y/n#ony x black reader#ony aot#aot x black reader#aot x you#aot x reader#black reader#black tumblr#sherewrytes#connie springer#sasha blouse#eren yeager#eren jaeger
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AITA for tossing a drink?
I (F22) don't drink alcohol: I don't like the taste of it, I was hangover once and I didn't like it at all and there is a large history of alcoholism on both sides of my family so I don't want to tempt fate.
My friends (F21, M22, F23, M23, F24 and M25) have all asked why I don't drink and I have been honest to all of them on my reasons and most of them have been pretty understanding NGL but there is this one friend (F24) who has made it her "duty" on getting me drunk. I didn't know her reasons why until last night.
So, last night we were at M25's apartment, we had decided to make a get together and talk about everything and nothing ans just have a nice time. We all brought our drinks, they had bought alcohol which was cool I don't mind then drinking they are all very responsible.
We were chatting the night away with some pizza and drinks and everything was nice actually. At this point, everyone was still sober and I decided to excuse myself to go pee. When I returned, I took a sip of my soda and inmediately felt the taste of alcohol. I stood up, gave the drink to F21 to hold for me and went to the bathroom again where I spit the soda I had in my mouth.
When I returned my other friends were puzzled. I immediately asked who had spiked my drink. At first, nobody believed my soda was spiked until I asked F21 to try it. She confirmed it had alcohol.
I repeated my question. And F24 confessed that it had been her because she wanted me to let loose a little bit. I gave her my most disgusted look, asked for F21 to return my drink which she did and I tossed the soda down the kitchen drain in front of everyone.
F24 got mad because I was acting like a complete asshole but when I asked her if I was an alcoholic in rehab would it still be fun to get me to spiral back in. She got silent. Her next argument was that why I wouldn't just trade my drink with someone else, I answered that nobody besides me had brought non alcoholic drinks so it would have been a losing situation for me.
Then I asked my other friends how could they not have noticed she spiked my soda, they said they just didn't notice they were chatting which fair we were in a very safe space. F24 was trying to get our other friends to take her side but nobody was backing her up everyone thought that it was a dick move of her to do that.
She then started acting up as if she was the victim here, gathered all of her things and stormed off.
We carried on with our night but for some reason I felt guilty about it. My friends say that it's completely not my fault and that I stood my ground in a very respectful way but I still feel bad for ruining the night. They reasured me it wasnt ruined and we kept our day.
I woke up today still feeling as if I was the one I did something wrong, I spoke with everyone except F24 and everyone is telling me not to overthink it and that the one that deserves an apology is me but I'm still thinking I could have approached the situation better.
So AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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୨ ♡ ୧︰ TAROT 101: developing your intuition.
Hello lovelies, welcome to the first post of my Tarot 101 series! After receiving a few questions, I decided to incorporate a series of tips and tutorials for other self-taught readers. Today, I'm answering a follower's asks sent in my DM's. I'm tackling it separately, so it makes more sense to other people to read it.
PS: Since this is a major work in progress and I'm not an all-knowing, almighty entity, please provide feedback, comments or concerns you might have! Thank you.
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How you develop your intuition and psychic abilities while reading tarot?
There is not one size fits all. While many readers recommend connecting to oneself, that's just the basis of it, really, but the main concept is to look at yourself, compassionately. Without the judgment of our everyday lives and the chaos of getting things right in the first attempt. You cannot be honest with yourself (or your intuition), if self-denial is the state you're living in. Or worse: if you view the truth as punishment.
It's always going to be a journey of discovery, and the first thing about spirituality is that you need to keep an open heart to the magic. Skepticism may get you far ahead in your career or financial matters, but when it comes to intuition, you can't grasp onto logic all the time.
With tarot, it's a little more practical: learn and lean into the cards. Notice I didn't say memorize, because many of us are busy enough with our everyday schedules. Just tap into them. Look at them. What does The Lovers remind you of? Maybe it takes you to the story about the Garden of Eden. Or- maybe it reminds you of your parents, their golden youth before marrying.
Again. No judgement. Let your stream of consciousness free. A huge part of reading tarot is allowing your imagination to run wild. Although the Devil card can symbolize obsession or addiction at first, take into account the spread, the topic. The context. What is your body telling you about the images you see?
We often underestimate the symbolism behind the cards. Without considering the traditional meanings,take one card out of your deck and just look at it. What colors are prominent? What do these colors represent in modern society? Do these people look happy? Are there any people at all? Where are they? Let your mind weave a story.
As a tarot reader, what you do on daily basis for intuition and tarot reading? What practices, book, or some kind of information which help you for tarot readings?
There are many things that have helped me, personally, but I'm going to mention some of the best practices I've seen, both for myself and for others.
› Stay creative. If it means drawing, writing, or painting, then stay creative. Find whatever little (or big) ways you can express your creativity. Remember you don't have to be "good". You can just be. Creativity exists in a lot of ways.
› Engage with other readers. Observe them. You can find a tarot reader that deeply resonates with you and watch how they read. Test if it works for you. Remember this is your practice, it's your sacred space, so you don't have to follow someone else's rules.
› Read, if and when you can. I personally recommend the book "History of Tarot" by Isabelle Nadolny, but not everyone can afford books or the time to read them. There are plenty of Youtube tutorials and free guidebooks on Biddy Tarot, for example. I also love Servant of The Fates' blog. They're both different and great, reliable sources.
› Start small. You can pull one card a day. Get a journal, write its meaning (or what it means to you) and record your progress. In a few months, when you return to it, you might find it surprising.
› Let yourself not know everything. No one does. Sometimes, you'll need to pause, go back to a guidebook and read the meaning all over again. Other times, you'll look at the spread and feel nothing. That's okay too. We're not meant to know all the answers.
Is meditation really important for reading tarot? Why? How much time do you spend daily for tarot readings and spiritual practices?
Since this is more of a personal matter, I'll be talking about myself. I don't meditate as often as most readers. Three times a month, maybe? I have a busy schedule and I can only meditate before bed, if I'm not too sleepy. Many people find that meditation makes them anxious or they're not able to fully let go. Other people find it that being in silence or taking a walk is more useful to them. Relaxation and meditation come in many, many forms. The important thing is to nurture your body and soul more than to adhere to rigid rules.
However, when it comes to saving time for readings or spiritual practices, I don't set rules for myself. It never works for me.
I let it flow. Sometimes, I go weeks on end without really consuming tarot content and I bond with my decks occasionally. And other times, I'm reading daily, journaling and trying to improve my skills. Since I have a billion other things to care for, I'm not always able to prioritize tarot as much as I'd like, but the important thing is to stay passionate, stay curious and get back to it. Better late than never.
When you're getting started, let yourself try. If you get it wrong, at least you'll be one step closer to getting it right.
amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.
#pick a card#tarotblr#tarot reading#pick a card reading#tarot#pac reading#tarot witch#witchblr#tarot community#tarot reader#tarot tips#witch tips#divination#tarot cards#spirituality#mine.#series: tarot 101#tarot 101: 001
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It’s a beautiful thing to meet someone who makes you forget your troubles.
(Leah Williamson x Reader)
As Leah Williamson was making her debut on the new EA Sports FC 24 cover, you were preparing to interview her with some fan questions in hand.
Before taking your seat you take advantage to approach Leah off camera to say hi. Leah smiles back at you.
“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. Don’t worry, these questions are supposed to be fun” You informed her to calm her nerves.
“Good to know, I’m honestly not having the best day” She responds.
Before you could ask any further, the director was asking for both of you to take your seat. "Alright, let's get started," you said with a gentle smile, noticing the hint of sadness in Leah's eyes. It was not a good day for her, she'd said, but you intended to make the interview as light and enjoyable as possible.
The questions started simple, revolving around her favorite FIFA games, memories growing up, and some of the memorable moments in her career. She perked up talking about her love for the game and her experiences. Still, you could tell something was bothering her.
Halfway through the interview, you decided to throw in a lighter question to change the mood. "Pineapple on pizza - yes or no?"
Leah laughed, her eyes lighting up for the first time that day. "Absolutely no!" she replied, sparking a playful debate between the two of you. For a few moments, her worries seemed to have been forgotten. You found her laugh infectious, and it was a relief to see her relax.
But as the interview was drawing to a close, you saw her mood dip once again. You'd had a good time with her, and it was clear that she was carrying something heavy. As a fellow human being, you couldn't help but feel for her.
"Leah, if you don't mind me asking," you began carefully, "is there something bothering you? You mentioned you weren't having the best day..."
She hesitated, glancing off-camera as if debating whether to answer. After a long pause, she sighed, "It's not public yet. But I got my results for my injury I got last game. I’m not making it to the World Cup."
Your heart clenched at her words, understanding the pain she was going through. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Leah. It's tough, and it's okay to not be okay. Just remember, it's the tough times that make the good ones so much sweeter. You will come back stronger than ever."
Leah nodded, her gaze softening as she met your eyes. "Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that today."
After the cameras stopped rolling, you chatted with Leah a bit more, offering words of comfort and strength. You felt a connection that went beyond just interviewer and interviewee. But you thought you would never find out as you just said your good byes and parted ways.
After the interview, you didn't expect to see Leah again, let alone form a deeper connection with her. However, fate seemed to have other plans. During one of Arsenal's matches, you were in the VIP box, courtesy of your job, taking in the game, when you spotted Leah in the neighboring box. She was currently injured, forced to watch her team from the sidelines.
Leah must have noticed you at the same moment because her eyes met yours and held. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing. Then, she disappeared from view.
A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were surprised to find Leah standing behind you, a timid smile on her face. "Mind if I join you?" she asked.
For the rest of the game, you both talked, laughed, and cheered for Arsenal together. It felt like a date - the intimacy, the connection, the sparks. However, neither of you acknowledged it.
As you were saying goodbyes again and leaving the box, Leah said, "Wait!! I noticed you wearing a Beth Mead jersey. Are you a fan?"
You nodded enthusiastically, "I'm a huge fan."
With a sly grin, Leah invited you to meet Beth. During the encounter, Leah was unusually quiet, and you noticed a flicker of something in her eyes. It looked a lot like jealousy, but you shrugged it off. You were star-struck, but Beth's laid-back demeanor and welcoming smile soon put you at ease.
"So, Y/N," Beth began, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall, "How do you know our Leah here?"
You glanced at Leah, who was looking slightly uncomfortable but made no move to intervene. "We met during an interview."
Beth's eyebrows raised, and a playful smirk appeared on her face. "Oh, just an interview, huh? And now you're hanging out in the VIP box, meeting her teammates. Sounds like you're pretty close."
You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Guess I’m pretty lucky. Leah’s been really kind."
For a moment, you thought you saw Leah blush, but she quickly looked away.
As the conversation moved to the match and general football banter, Leah excused herself to speak to a coach, leaving you alone with Beth.
Once she was out of earshot, Beth turned to you, her expression more serious. "She's a good person, Leah. Just been through a lot lately. I hope she's found a good friend in you, Y/N."
You nodded, assuring Beth that Leah had indeed found a friend in you. However, her words resonated with you, hinting at something more beneath the surface.
When Leah returned, Beth excused herself to have a word with her. You couldn't hear what they were talking about, but you saw Leah's eyes widen, her cheeks flushing, and Beth teasingly poking her in the ribs. Leah swatted Beth's hand away, looking around to make sure you hadn't seen.
You turned away quickly, not wanting them to know you'd noticed. But you couldn't help the small grin that spread across your face. The day had been full of surprises, and the evening promised to bring even more.
With a day like this, it felt like anything was possible. Could there be more than friendship developing between you and Leah? Only time would tell. But for now, you were content with the uncertainty, the anticipation, and the thrill of the unknown.
The bustling noise of the after-match crowd faded as Leah walked you to your car in silence. Your laughter and playful teasing from earlier had been replaced by a charged silence. The air between you two was thick with unspoken words, questions, and emotions.
Leah, always the more courageous one, broke the silence. "Did you mean what you said earlier in the VIP box, about wanting to know the 'Leah off the field'?" Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable, her eyes fixed on the ground.
You paused, glancing at her. "Every word, Leah," you responded sincerely. "You fascinate me, not as Leah the footballer, but Leah the person. You're incredibly strong and kind."
Leah looked up, her gaze meeting yours. For a moment, everything else ceased to exist. It was just the two of you under the dim glow of the streetlights.
A soft sigh escaped Leah's lips as she leaned against the car, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm not used to this, Y/N," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I guess people usually want the footballer, the celebrity, the...public figure."
You moved closer, your voice steady. "But that's not what I want, Leah. I want to know you, the woman behind all the fame and the accolades, the woman who still gets nervous before interviews."
Something shifted in Leah's expression then, a sense of understanding, perhaps, or relief. She didn't say anything for a moment, her gaze intensifying.
"And you, Y/N," she finally murmured, "What about you? What do you hide behind that professional facade?"
You laughed softly, taken aback by her directness. "That, Leah, is a story for another day."
She smiled, her eyes softening. "I'd like to hear it someday."
After exchanging numbers this time, you drove away. You could still feel Leah's gaze on you, her unspoken words hanging in the air like a promise. There was an undeniable pull between the two of you, something more profound than a fleeting attraction. But what it meant and where it could lead? That was a question for another day.
Authors note: Thank you for reading this far! Part 2?
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Marriage (Part 5)
Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader
Warnings: discussions
Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
The next morning, Mason and I woke up to the excitement outside our hotel window. The Formula 1 race day had arrived, and despite the lingering tension from the day before, there was an atmosphere of anticipation.
As we headed to the racetrack, a mix of emotions overwhelmed me. Memories of my past with Max and the recent revelation to Mason weighed on me. However, Mason's reassuring presence beside me provided a sense of comfort.
The atmosphere on the track was electrifying, with the roar of engines and cheers from enthusiastic fans. Mason's enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself caught up in the excitement of the event. We settled into our seats inside the Red Bull garage, ready to witness the thrilling race.
As the cars zoomed around the track, I tried to focus on the present moment and enjoy the experience with Mason. Despite the challenges and the unexpected encounter with Max, being there with Mason felt right.
Mason and I hadn't discussed the matter further, and perhaps when we return home, it will come up. I'm unsure about the possible questions he might ask and how I'll respond.
After the race, we joined the celebrations in the paddock. Mason's smile was infectious, and I couldn't help but thank him for making this weekend special for both of us.
In the midst of the jubilant atmosphere, Max approached us.
"Hi, what did you think of the race?"
"Good," Mason replied without much enthusiasm.
"I'm glad I could put on a show for you to watch," Max said, not understanding why Mason seemed distant.
"I know how much you like to put on a show."
"Mase," I called him, squeezing his hand lightly.
"I don't get it," Max said, confused.
"I don't know if I want to punch you for hurting her or thank you for doing it, or else I wouldn't have met the best person in the world," Mason said. Max realized he was talking about us.
"I didn't know you knew."
"That doesn't matter, but you're a complete idiot."
"I already know that, don't need you to remind me," he said, and I heard the bitterness in his voice. "I'm sorry for causing any discomfort. Didn't mean to ruin your weekend," Max said, looking directly at me.
Sensing the tension, Mason took a step forward, putting a protective arm around me.
"Let's focus on the celebration, Max. We're here to enjoy your victory." Max nodded, acknowledging the unspoken boundaries.
"Congratulations on the engagement," he added before stepping away.
“Why did you do that?” I say, letting go of his hand.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why confront him?”
“Are you defending him? After everything he put you through?”
“I'm not defending him, but I don't need more eyes on me because of this story, and then you decide to confront him about it in the middle of the paddock? Where everyone knows who he is.” I say angrily, and Mason tries to come closer, but I move away. “I just can't believe you did something that could have exposed a part of my life that I didn't want to happen.”
"Love, I..." I just shake my head and start walking alone to another place.
I found a corner between two garages where almost no one passed, and I sat there. I hadn't realized I was crying until someone sat next to me and hugged me.
"I was almost sure I saw you, but I thought maybe I was hallucinating." I looked to the side and saw Lando sitting there.
"Hi." He smiles slightly.
"Why are you here alone? Mason was looking for you."
"I just needed a few minutes alone."
"What happened?"
"Mason and Max." He sighs. "It's just that everything is too complicated."
"How so?"
"Mason found out about Max and me, and when Max came to talk to us today after the race, Mason lost his temper and started saying some things to Max." I sighed. "He wasn't wrong, but he made a scene in front of many people, and I already have a lot of eyes on me for being his fiancée, and I don't need more people judging me for what happened between me and Max since it's not something many people know."
"I'm so sorry," he says, pulling me into a hug. "Do you want me to do something?"
"No, but thank you for being here." I feel him leave a kiss on my forehead, and after a few minutes, he has to leave.
I stayed there a little longer and sent a message to Mason saying that I was fine and that we would meet at the hotel.
Bonus scene!
Masonmount instagram stories
“F1 Sunday with my lover” tagged: Yourusername
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enemies to lovers prompts
free to use!!
"oh wow, you look great today!" *stares at them for a minute* "wish i could say the same."
"oh you just know everything, don't you?!" "yes! why do you think we fight constantly?"
character a and b ending up in a forced proximity; could be a dance floor, a closet... you name it. when they're awfully close, character a pulls a face of disgust. "seriously (character name) if you get one step closer i'll-" "you'll what?" *proceeds to threaten them while character b just looks at them with whipped eyes*
character a and b trying their best to stay out of each other's ways, yet always ending up in the same places. sounds like fate to me :)
both of them having annoying nicknames for one another.
"i'm sick of playing this game with you." "what game?" "the game where we pretend we don't like each other."
character b teasing a after they found out they went on a date, but are internally pissed about. "ouch, that date didn't seem to last long, i wonder why?" "clearly because it wasn't a date." "i'm glad to hear that." "what?!" "nothing!" *runs away before they get another word out*
"i don't hate you, i never did." "stop saying that!"
both dancing with someone else while they look at each other from afar (BROOOOO THIS ALWAYS HITS NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES ITS DONE!!!!!!!)
character a and b both known for being extremely brave and never backing out of a dare, until character c dares them to kiss...
character c: "you guys act like an old married couple." character a and b in sync: "WE ARE NOT A COUPLE."
fighting over the smallest things, that it becomes hilarious at how ridiculous they act.
character a in desperate need of a hug after something terrible happening, and only character b is involved. "this doesn't mean anything." "of course not." while they squeeze each other tighter :'))
"you're lying." "i'm lying? what?" "you like me."
character a and b being enemies from the day they met, zero attraction between them... until one of them has a sex dream about the other :0
going on a trip with their friends and they fight over the window seat
character a going off to character c how they don't like them. "yeah no they're just so-" *character b walking by and winking at them* "you were saying?" *character a losing their train of thoughts*
character b always mocking a for their taste in people they date because secretly they are bitter!!
"holy shit, you like [them]!" "what? that's ridiculous!" "you're not even saying no, oh this is fun..."
character a and b forced to share a bed and fighting for the comforters, tugging back and forth until one decides to give up.
#writing#writing ideas#writing prompt#writing prompts#dialogue prompt#prompts#enemies to lovers#enemies to lovers prompts
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coffee shops & study sessions
paring: ethan landry x implied!fem!reader
*no gf au
blackmore university.
the university you just transferred to, a little over a month ago.
it was hard being the new student at first. you didn't have many friends. but if you were being honest, you didn't really want to be friends with half of the people at blackmore because all they did was drink and go to parties, you didn't care about any of that.
you were majored in economics. to your surprise, not many students take econ compared to your old college. which was completely fine by you because you didn't want to be stuck in a 90 minute class period with a bunch of other students anyway.
but there was one person. one person who you really liked. someone who you'd been crushing on since you first laid eyes on him.
ethan
the shy, dorky guy who never talks. the only reason you know his name is because the professor does roll call at the beginning of class. hearing him say "present" everyday was the only time you heard him speak.
you desperately wanted to talk to him, for a while now actually. you've had plenty of opportunities to talk to him outside of class. you see him everywhere, the library, the hallway, sometimes you even see him sitting at a bench on campus. but despite how many times a day you see him, you never have the guts to talk to him.
what were you even supposed to say to him?
"hey i'm y/n, i think you're really cute. want to be friends?"
─
you just finished your last class of the day and your professors gave you a lot of work to do. because you're off work today, you decided to go to a nearby coffee shop and do some homework.
unfortunately for you, the coffee shop was packed. you thought about getting a drink to go and do your homework at the library but food/drinks weren't allowed in there. so you went ahead and ordered a drink and stood patiently to the side waiting for the barista to call your name, since there were no empty seats.
─
after you got your drink, your first plan of action was to wait until someone left so you could sit down. you could've just went back to your dorm and do your work there but you knew the second you got there, you would've been tempted to just lay down and go to sleep. but you couldn't do that, you had to get this work done.
minutes go by, accepting your fate, you begin to walk out. that was until you saw him.
ethan
he was sitting at a booth near the window, a two person booth - all by himself.
he had headphones in his ears, one hand was holding the pages of his textbook, and he was writing with the other hand. he was so focused, he didn't even look up.
god he was so cute
something must have took over you, because you found yourself walking over to him.
is this it?
am i actually going to talk to him?
you lightly tap his shoulder
no turning back now
he jumps slightly and takes his headphones out of his ears. he looks up at you, a little taken back. like he wasn't expecting you to be standing in front of him.
"um..h-hey" he said, although it sounded more like a question.
you immediately felt stupid, silently cursing yourself.
you must've taken too long to respond as ethan spoke again, "did you need something?" he says softly, it was barely above a whisper,
"no i just um, i just wanted to know if i could sit here?" you pointed at the empty space in front of him.
ethan looked around, he probably thought you were joking or something until he realized that they were in fact, no empty seats available.
"yeah sure"
and with his confirmation, you sit your drink down and watch as he moves some of his things closer to his side of the table. "thanks"
─
a couple minutes had passed and ethan couldn't help but notice the paper you were working on- it was the same one as him.
then it clicked, you're in the same econ class as him. he knew he recognized you from somewhere.
he also had noticed that you were just staring at the paper, not actually writing anything. he figured you were confused about the assignment.
so ethan, being the kind person he is, offered to help you.
"i can help you if you want"
you look up, you weren't expecting him to talk to you.
"n-no i don't want to bother you or anything"
"it's okay, i don't mind"
"okay"
"oh i'm ethan by the way"
"i know" you replied, a little too quickly.
"i mean um, i'm y/n"
your cheeks we're probably red hot by now, you just hoped ethan didn't see it.
he lets out a breathy laugh, "nice to meet you, y/n"
─
it was a little while into your study session with ethan, when all of a sudden he stood up and motioned for you to scoot over- which you gladly did.
he went from sitting across from you to sitting next to you, you gave him a questioning look.
"sorry, it was getting hard to read upside down"
"oh, that makes sense" you laugh quietly.
─
about 2 hours later, the studying and homework was long gone. completely forgotten.
you and ethan were laughing, goofing off and just getting to know each other. you guys were there for so long that you ended up ordering another drink.
you even forced him to try one of your favorite pastries. "oh wow, this is really good!" "i told you!"
you guys were having so much fun together, talking and laughing. ever so often getting a glare from someone around you because you were being so loud.
─
you guys actually had a little too much fun and ended up loosing track of time.
you'd been there for hours.
a barista had come over to you two, "hey, i just wanted to let you guys know that we close in twenty minutes"
you were a little disappointed that you had to leave, you could tell ethan was too.
"dang it's past 9 already?"
─
"i had a really good time with you today" ethan says as you and him are walking out of the coffee shop.
"yeah me too, thanks for helping me with my homework by the way"
"no problem"
"well goodnight, ethan"
"goodnight"
you began to walk away when you heard ethan call your name.
you turn around confused, "yeah?"
"could i maybe get your number?" "you know, so i can call you later, make sure you get home safe." he said awkwardly, while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
you were a little shocked that he asked you for your number, but of course you gave it to him anyway.
"sure" you say, as you grab his phone to put your contact in.
you give him his phone back when you're finish. boldness took over you and you found yourself putting your hands on his shoulders and giving him a light kiss on the cheek.
ethan was shocked, he didn't even know what to say or do. you pull away and laugh a little as his cheeks started to flush.
"goodnight, ethan. for real this time"
"y-yeah. i'll text you later"
"i'll be waiting"
─
you get back to your dorm, you sigh in relief as you take off your heavy bookbag.
you decided to take a shower, making sure to be quick in case ethan texted you.
what a day
you actually talked to ethan, AND kissed him on the cheek?
he helped you study at a coffee shop, and sat next to you? you practically went on a date with him.
this could be the start of a beautiful friendship, maybe even more than that.
after your shower, you lay in your bed, scrolling on your phone when you finally get the notification you'd been waiting patiently for.
+1 (***) *** ****
hey this is ethan
you up for a call?
and you smile as you click the call icon.
♡‧₊˚ thanks for reading!!
this took so long to write and edit
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Yk one thing I barely see talked abt is the fact that Mace Windu's lineage and thus legacy is one of the longest Order 66 surviving ones in Star Wars WHO STAYED TRUE TO THE JEDI ORDER'S PRINCIPLES.
Like damn, Mace rly managed to establish a liniage of highly competent and compasionate Jedi. The Shatterpoint Lineage either outlasted or survived for nearly as long as the Disaster Liniage who pretty obviously stopped truly representing Jedi with Obi-Wan (only rly returninh to the true jedi way with Luke if ya see him as part of that lineage)
Like- who do we have in the Shatterpoint lineage ?
-Master of the Jedi Order , died trying to save the galaxy from the Sith
-Former council member, died saving her padawan from her brainwashed men
-Rebel Jedi training a student despite everything that went down , died saving his padawan & loved ones from a giant explosion
-THE GUY LITTERALY ABLE TO GET THE CHANCE TO FORCE TIME-TRAVEL WHO SEND HIMSELF INTO EXILE TO PROTECT THOSE HE LOVES & THE GALAXY
And who do we have in the Disaster Lineage :
-Guy with questionable methods who did his best
-OBI-WAN who rly doesn't need any explanation (who's also the last true Jedi with expection of Luke (if you counf him) to come out of this lineage)
-a genocial manbaby with an alergy for any sort of moral code or basic logic
-a pick me shitting on her own adoptive family, who isn't even a Jedi if we are being honest (sry Ahsoka, but your character to assasinated to a point where I just can't anymore)
And honestly ? It says a LOT that Mace Windu's lineage stands as pretty much last bastion of a true Jedi Lineage from the old Order.
Agreed 100%
And ngl I find it so funny that people constantly praise the Shatterpoint lineage- (Depa, Kanan, Ezra) -and then shit on Mace like, my dude, WHO DO YOU THINK TAUGHT DEPA AND PASSED ON THOSE VALUES TO HER AND THEREFORE HIS LINEAGE???
But no, Mace's lineage is by far the best imo---I love Obi-Wan and Luke and Yoda, but they get negative points for having not one but TWO genocidal fascists in the lineage- (Dooku and Anakin) -and then someone who thinks the Jedi brought on their own genocide- (Ahsoka) -and then someone who decided that the fate of the galaxy was less important than her feelings and probably kickstarted another war- (Sabine, apparently, since Felony shoe-horned her into the lineage).
Meanwhile the Shatterpoint lineage has the head of the Order who almost won the Clone Wars and stopped the Empire from being created, who only failed because he was betrayed- (Mace) -then an amazing and empathetic general who was literally so selfless that she sacrificed herself to save her padawan- (Depa) -then someone who fought against the Empire, successfully overcame his own issues to both train a padawan and then forgive those who he thought willingly murdered his family, and then sacrificed himself to save his family and give the Rebellion a leg up on the Empire for the Battle of Lothal- (Kanan) -and finally someone who let go of all his grief, rejected the Dark Side SEVERAL TIMES, and then sentenced himself to a life in exile to protect the galaxy from a genocidal fascist- (Ezra).
Like...there's really no competition here.
In the Imperial Era, Mace was probably sitting back as a Force-ghost, watching the Disaster lineage fuck up the galaxy and then have to fix it all over again, smugly staring down Obi-Wan and Yoda like-
Mace, smugly: Hm, did you know that today Kanan taught Ezra how to connect with animals? I'm so proud of them.
Obi-Wan, watching Anakin commit even more mass murder and Ahsoka blame the Jedi for Anakin's actions: Must be nice.
Yoda, staring down Dooku, who literally tried to take over the whole galaxy with a fascist regime: Yes. Nice, it must be.
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