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hirazuki · 10 months

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for that ship&kiss thing. celebrimbor/maeglin with number 8?? thank you!

…in secrecy | Celebrimbor & Maeglin

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Aman, a cottage near the border with Avathar. Fourth Age.

"You shouldn't be here," comes the response from behind the wooden door -- finely made, though he does not recognize the craftsmanship -- that has cracked open to reveal pale skin, dark hair, and enough traces of his father's favorite cousin to waken a dull ache in his chest.

Celebrimbor cocks his head to one side, in a way that always prompts others to tell him how much he resembles his grandfather; a source of pride, and irritation. "Is your return among the living meant to be a secret? Did the terms of your release from the Halls not permit for visitors? Or, is this a conclusion you have come to for yourself?"

Silence is his reply, and in it Celebrimbor can hear the snapping of fallen twigs -- the sound of wild things in retreat, scrambling deeper into the forest.

Too much, then. He takes a breath, dampens the inadvertent intensity his spirit has ever burned with, and tries again, softer. "You are not the only one who laid low a city."

"It is not the same."

Distance and disdain, coated in a kind of poisonous pride that seeks to deflect, to set apart and deny others approach lest they notice the stain of shame clinging to reborn flesh and detect the softness lying exposed at hough and wrist and throat.

Oh, this, Celebrimbor knows well; intimately, in fact. This, he can work, with all the ease of coaxing naked gold under heat.

"It seems as though someone has yet to hear the full story," he remarks with a mirthless chuckle, allowing his voice to color with the bitterness and self-derision he is always careful to keep hidden in these unblemished lands; well, almost always. "Truthfully, today marks the beginning of a week-long feast in Tirion and I find I am still ill-suited for crowds. Half of those I could think to impose upon are attending; everyone else has a forge."

Dark eyes blow wide at that last statement, akin to the inquisitive perking of coarse-haired ears or the cautious steps skulking out of the underbrush towards a proffered morsel in his uncle's hand or the curious flicking of a tongue in the presence of an unexpected thought, late at night in the smithy; an indication of interest flaring, however reluctantly -- as Celebrimbor expected. He has had long practice, after all, with courting the attention of the supposedly disinterested, and compared to his successes, the Elf before him hardly places for difficulty.

He makes to speak, and pauses. "Which name do you prefer?" he asks, instead.

"I don't," Maeglin says and turns to go inside, the hair he keeps short brushing the top of his shoulders.

The words are cutting, and the door is left open.

Celebrimbor has never met him before, this cousin of his who is half-Sindar, reared in twilight and young in death, born of the union of blinding light and deeply private darkness, but he knows his story -- no; rather, he knows what they say of the traitor of Gondolin.

He knows what they say of himself, as well.

And he may know nothing of Nan Elmoth, save its hazy reputation, nor what signs might mark Maeglin as his father's son, but, after trading a handful of words, he knows this: Maeglin -- Lómion -- is doubtlessly of the house of Finwë.

Sharp; unyielding; obsidian polished to unbearable reflection that yet remembers the fires in the earth --

Celebrimbor likes him. His manner is familiar in a way that is comforting and painful all at once, and he pointedly decides to blame it on the family resemblance; there is only so much room for specters in his heart, and he is not inclined to give ground to shadows, no matter how they may try to claw at his mind.

Fëanor's only grandson smiles, genuinely -- although there are none there to appreciate the rarity of such a moment -- and follows him indoors.

The place is quiet, dim, and sparse; entirely bare, except for the meagerest of essentials: a lamp, a table, a single chair. There are no tools of any trade or decorative items or personal effects, and the degree of dispossession is such that it can hardly be attributed to a preference of aesthetics.

The rest of the house, presumably, is the same.

It says much and, paired with Maeglin's fingers that have been ceaselessly fidgeting ever since he answered the door -- anxious creatures, ever seeking for something to distract, something to soothe -- it amounts to nothing less than an endless, silent scream.

In a display that is incredibly Fëanorian in its brashness and its intimacy, and, plainly, horrifyingly foreign to his host, Celebrimbor reaches out and takes one of Maeglin's hands in his own, turning it so as to place it against his cheek, and presses his lips into its palm.

Maeglin freezes, going still like the hares in the early morning mists of Eregion -- standing upright amidst the holly trees and rays of first light, statues poised to flee.

"If your hands long to make, cousin," Celebrimbor says, exquisitely aware of his own hypocrisy, "you should let them."

#celebrimbor #maeglin #silmarillion #tolkien #hira writes tolkien #my writing #ANONNNN i've honestly never thought of them interacting before; not seriously at least not beyond crack/silly memes #and now have a million ideas for post-canon aman and i blame you ♡#i hope you like it!!!!#went with a very /very/ loose interpretation of 'secrecy' here because once the plot bunny bit my ankle #i was unwilling to compromise my 4th age agenda lmao #wrote it as non-shippy but obv you can interpret however you like ^^#thanks so much for enabling me with my maeglin obsession XD #answering these out of order as blorbos see fit to cooperate #(everyone's cooperating for once actually it's just that some are cooperating a little too much; i.e. won't shut up)

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worldly-diversity · 2 months

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@questionablemuses ○ 𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕤 ○

⤷ 『 "Yer really testin' my patience today." 』

Travis chuckled at the audacity Angel had to say such a thing to him. Val wasn't in the studio today, had other things to take care of, more important things than minding his favourite little slut and so he'd left Travis in charge. And Travis? Well, Travis had been working hard these past few months to ensure Valentino would trust him to be left alone with Angel.

As a result he'd been pushing the arachnid pretty hard today, making him re-take certain segments out of sick pleasure in the way Angel flinched back when he'd just thought he was done and had to film something again. Usually the kinda thing that left the arachnid's jaw aching or his hole dripping with cum.

Travis loved taking those shots, a couple of which got squirrelled away onto his personal drive for whenever he wanted to enjoy the way he had left Angel struggling to stand after a shoot.

It's not as good as fucking him himself, but… Well, it's close enough really. At least as close as he figures Val will let him get.

"That's cute, Angel." He replied with a dark chuckle, eyes raking over the other's tall form. Cuff marks on his wrists that peeked out of his dressing gown and the awareness that Angel hadn't gotten to clean up yet and was no doubt dripping the cum of other men down his thighs. Fuck, is it any wonder he's hard just from looking at him? He's wearing dark clothes, but then he's never been shy about letting Angel see how fucking horny he gets for him either.

"Val left me in charge, remember? You should try playing nice with me sometime, maybe then I wouldn't be leaving you such a pretty little wreck after every shoot, hm~?" Fuck he wants to lick up everything the other is sure to be spilling—

"How's about we help each other out, hm~?" He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't be making this offer. Val's not here which has suddenly become a problem for his already tenuous self-control. If he gets to touch the forbidden fruit too— Well, Val would know instantly from his behaviour he's sure.

He can never quite be sure if the moth would be amused or furious…

Somehow, a deep dark part of him wants to find out.

#questionablemuses #universe • hazbin hotel #inquiry • hazbin hotel #interactions • travis #answered #travis is such a fuckin disaster—#sir you shouldn't be getting hot under the collar at the idea of val being angry at you. you know you wont actually enjoy the punishment xD #i blame you for putting that idea in my head xD #also yes hi everyone this bitch is here too. i just need to add him to the muse list still.

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soundcrusher · 1 year

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@ut-girl666 , @transformers-blorbo-polls ... I'm doing it...

Im writing the story, well, the one shot(?) I'm proably going to post it tomorrow, or something.

Still trying to figure out how I'm going to fit the Hello Kitty baseball bat into a somewhat serious story.... Yea... Well, this is either going to be awsome, as weird as my christmas star, or both.

Either way, I hope the both of you will enjoy it, once Rodimus wins the blorbo poll. :3

#soundcrusher rambles #transformers #rodimus/hot rod #megatron #this is losely based on the G1 movie (or at least what I know about it; I still need to watch it ^^')#or more like an idea were optimus never dies and hot rod never becomes prime #but rather takes over the decepticons and now leads them without ever wanting to #at least starscream and soundwave help him out XD #ut-girl666 and transformers-blorbo-poll; I blame but also thank you for giving me the inspiration to write this

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wacky-nameless-inventor-24 · 1 year

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Some additions to the family :3

#I don’t think I’ll go anywhere with these two this idea is just cute #ones a girl (she’s like this universes version of Maddie)#The other is amab and comes out as enby when they’re older #They had a third sibling but that one didn’t make it 😭#So it’s a weird time for all of them navigating the joys of having new kids while also mourning the third egg that didn’t hatch #ANYWAY #Blues the babysitter when those two are busy but they are ALSO busy so #It’s just balanced between all three of them #And even with an extra parental figure than usual they’re all three just always busy and exhausted #They love it tho ofc #NGyro just completely removed himself from all of it as soon as he saw what Blue had been roped into #and tbh can you blame him XD #sslflsldkfj you KNOW Mads is tired if he’s missing his cape #mad ducktor #fenton crackshell cabrera #nega fenton #nega fenton crackshell cabrera #negaverse fenton crackshell cabrera #negaverse fenton #madfen #madfen royalty au #blue phantom #The blue phantom #duckverse #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #wacky's art #sorry for never shutting up about this au I just love it #they’re not nude btw I just don’t wanna draw clothes XD

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phoenixcatch7 · 5 months

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You can tell it's getting close to Christmas, absolutely no one is updating on ao3 right now lmao. Wayyyy too busy XD.

#I've barely had a minute to think myself so I don't blame you XD #Why is it I get all the best fic ideas WHNE I CAN'T WRITE #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3 funny #ao3 memes #fanfic #ao3 stuff #fanfiction #This is true for every single fic site I've ever been on lmao

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luffyasksandanswers · 1 year

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@chatcambrioleur

“....!!”

The captain turned around and walked away like nothing happened once their eyes met. Luffy could hear the ominous foot steps following him and as he tried escape, one of those tiny wooden horses fell off from his mouth.

“U- Usopp made me do it!!” he mumbled and tried to hid the chess piece.

#chatcambrioleur #yosh ! let’s get this started ! (starter)#wanted: pickpocketing navigator (Nami)#//king of random always blaming his buddies xD #//hope you don't mind I got the idea from the chess-test you had

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nightrae13 · 1 year

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lol, look what nostalgia I rediscovered online.

~ Enomoto siblings being a mess in the Ima Suki ni Naru arc~

#Honeyworks #saw the YT vid that had the title Worst rejection ever lmaoo #it contained Hina's confession in the 2nd movie and the comment section is just wild HAHAHHAHA #tho what they said is funnily true #it still needs to be considered that Natsuki has no freakin idea Koyuki was even there lol #she doesn't know solving her own personal problems would lead to her friends and brother's heartbreak #like if there's something HoneyWorks continually teaches me #one of them is the fact that despite having no issue with falling for someone who won't catch you #you can't blame them because it's not their obligation to catch you in the first place #having feelings for them is fine but them not having feelings for you is just as fine #anyway this post is supposed to be a joke #and yet here I am not resisting the urge to defend my once least fav character lol #KJ indeed XD #Kotaro Enomoto #NATSUKI ENOMOTO #enomoto natsuki #enomoto kota #Kokuhaku Jikkou Iinkai #zutto mae kara suki deshita #memes #anime memes #also enomoto sibs song when??#they're long overdue lol #I'd want something for the Mochizuki siblings too XD

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kiwibirb1 · 3 months

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Lol I just realized that like I talk about my blorbos in tags and reblogs and stuff but never like an actual post? I do bitch about my own writing though.

#like i've mentioned Onli a lot ish in tags #you guys have no idea who she is #i havent even linked the fic xD #well thats mostly cause im embarrassed about irl people seeing it #so uh blame taco #oops almost tagged reblog again

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all4yoi · 1 month

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was it just a game to you?

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw. hyung line , 2nd pov , ︎ poor attempt on angst , lowercase intended , hand holding ( not w u! xd ) , karina mentioned on heeseung's & wonyoung on sunghoon's , not proofread ! part two here !

catching them holding hands with another girl after they accepted your confession

confessing to them was already on your monthly bucket list, but them accepting it and liking you back certainly wasn't. feeling ecstatic, you walk towards your university's glass doors only to find him holding hands with a female that certainly isn't you.

★ LEE HEESEUNG

eyes trained on their hands clutched tightly on to one another, you watch silently as the girl smiled up at him shyly, tucking a strand of her hair with her empty hand.

doubt began overtaking you. right, who would choose someone like you over someone like karina? she was everything you weren't. perfect face, perfect body, she's kind, and absolutely beautiful. if you were heeseung, you would choose her too.

you flinched as you made eye contact with the girl holding hands with someone who should be yours. she sent you a smile, a genuine one. not mocking, nor insulting. she didn't have any idea about the conversation last night you shared with the man she's holding hands with.

she didn't know about how he smiled at you brightly, didn't know about the hug you two shared, and absolutely didn't know about how he said he liked you too. so how could you hate and blame her?

before you could even send a smile back at her, heeseung turned around and instantly took his hand back when his gaze landed on your stiff body.

instead of making a scene, you showed them the best smile you could muster despite the quiver on your lips before quickly walking away towards your first class.

heeseung panicked, turning to karina.

"you're a great friend karina, but i don't feel the same. i'm sorry."

with that, he ran after you hoping you would hear him out and let him explain.

other members utc!

★ PARK JONGSEONG

you felt your mood instantly drop. yesterday he promised he would prove to you how much he liked you back too, now he's holding hands with a pretty girl.

your eyes quickly met his and the way he quickly took his hand back from the girl made you even more upset. you watched as the female said something incoherent to him before he approached you hastily.

he stood infront of you, worry written all over his face. your frowned deepened, betrayal making your chess heavy.

"it's not what it looked like, i promise." jay whispered that only you could hear. he didn't want you doubting his feelings for you, he was merely helping the girl up after he had bumped into her. she insisted on shaking his hand after telling him her name, it was such wrong timing that you saw.

he didn't mean to hurt you.

"it's okay. i'll see you later jay." was all you said before walking away with a small smile. he watched your figure become smaller and smaller until he lost your figure to the students crowding the halls.

despite the smile on your pretty face, jay knew he had hurt you badly and he intended on fixing that. for now, he'd give you space.

★ SIM JAEYUN

his hand was instantly removed from hers as soon as you saw it. you didn't know what to feel. were you supposed to be glad that he immediately let her go as soon as your eyes met his? still, you don't know for how long he has been holding her hand before you even saw.

but then again, you two weren't together. so who were you to be mad? he liked you back sure, but he wasn't your boyfriend. he could hold hands with anyone he'd like. but was it bad to hope that he'd only do those things with you?

you couldn't help the tears falling down your cheeks. immediately, you felt ashamed. ashamed for crying about something so stupid like this, so you did what everyone would've done.

you ran, ignoring his desperate calls for you. and even when he caught up with you and brought you to his chest, the tears didn't stop. you mentally cursed yourself for being so sensitive.

pushing yourself away from him, you wiped away the tears.

"i can explain, please."

"it's fine jake, really. i just wish you would've been more honest with me." lips wobbly as you attempted a small smile, jake's heart broke as he watched you walk away from him again.

★ PARK SUNGHOON

you didn't know what to do. there he was, holding hands with the prettiest girl in campus with other students fawning over them. exclaims on how good they looked together echoed through your ears.

maybe he only said he liked you back to make fun of your reaction with his friends. maybe it was a lousy bet between him and his friends to make you believe he actually liked you back.

"don't they look absolutely good together? seriously, sunghoon and wonyoung, literally everyone here expected them to get together at some point" a random student told you, her smile wide as she observed the two, who were still holding hands.

the way he stiffened and dropped her hand as soon as your eyes met his brought you back to reality. blending in with the crowd in the halls, you attempted to escape his line of sight, desperate to leave before the tears in your tear ducts escape.

you were forced to halt when you felt a strong grip on your forearm. sunghoon turned you around to face him, his brows furrowed whilst he bit his bottom

"y/n.." he gulped as he saw how your eyes got teary immediately. "i'm sorry, it's not like that at all."

"so why were you holding her hand? with the biggest smile on your face?" he kept his mouth shut, unable to form an answer. this only made you frustrated even more.

pulling your arm back, you cleared your throat and looked down on your shoe. "you could've turned me down instead of making me hope- nevermind.. see you around."

sunghoon watched you walk away from him helplessly, mentally beating himself up for not clearing things up.

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kaleldobrev · 10 months

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Old Man

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary: Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: Age Gap, Cursing (13x), Sexual Innuendos, Dean talking bad about himself, Frat guys giving Y/N the disrespect she doesn’t deserve Authors Note: Me and Jensen have a 17-year age gap – what’s your age gap? | This came out A LOT longer than I expected | I don’t know how to write frat guys xD | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You and Dean pulled up in front of a gas station; needing to stop for gas and maybe a few snacks before the two of you continued your almost four-hour long journey back to the Bunker. You and Dean had just spent the weekend in Lawrence, due to the very rare occurrence that there were no cases. You had told Dean that even though you’d been living at the Bunker with him and Sam for the past couple of years, you had never once been to Lawrence even though you could have easily made a day trip out of it. With that being said, Dean was more than happy to take you and show you around, reminiscing about some of the things that he remembered doing all those years ago back when he was four; back before everything. But that’s not all the trip was, you had done some other things too; like visiting the Biodiversity Institute and Natural History Museum – which was considered to be one of the best museums in the entire state of Kansas, along with Grinter Farms – who prided themselves on their sunflower photo-ops. You enjoyed both places immensely, and were happy that Dean did too, even if he wasn’t initially keen on going to either place at first.

“I’m gonna grab us some snacks while you do the pump.” You said, grabbing your wallet from the glove compartment. Once you closed it and before you exited the car, you looked over at Dean, who was currently giving you the most serious look on his face. “What?”

“You already know what I’m going to say Sweetheart.” His tone sounding just as serious as his facial expression had looked.

“Pie.” You said in unison.

“Cherry or apple?” You asked, the two of you getting out of the car at the same time.

“Like you have to ask.” Dean stated, opening up the fuel cap.

“Just making sure Dean. I mean, I don’t want to come out with apple when you really wanted cherry.” Your comment earned a slight chuckle from him.

“I’ll be getting some cherry pie later, don’t you worry.” He winked.

“I don’t think that applies to me anymore.” You smirked.

“We can always pretend.” He started fueling Baby just then.

“Now that’s a roleplay idea I can get behind.” You winked at him before making your way into the store.

As soon as you walked into the store to grab some snacks for the two of you – one of which needed to be pie; a car pulled up the next pump over with a group of about four men who all appeared to be from the University of Kansas solely based on their Jayhawks apparel. “I don’t know dude. I’m pretty sure that chick was into me.” One of the men said, causing the one that he was talking to, to roll his eyes.

“No dude. She was into me. She was giving me the old fuck me eyes. Did you not see that? Or were you too busy looking at her ass?” He laughed. It was the other guy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Can you blame me? You could bounce a quarter off that thing.” The young man replied.

“Hell yeah you could!” The other one agreed, giving each other a high five.

There was a part of Dean that found their conversation funny because he had remembered when he was like that; but it hadn’t been for some time. Yes, there were times when he was still like that, but it was solely reserved for one woman: and that woman was you.

“Check out that piece of ass in the store there.” Another one of the men who hadn’t talked before was talking now. His comment caused Dean to turn in their direction and then back into the store. There was no other person that they could be talking about but you, as you were the only person in there besides the clerk behind the counter; and Dean was pretty sure they weren’t talking about the balding clerk.

“Bet she’s a good fuck.” One of the men said. Oh you have no idea. Dean thought to himself.

“I’ll bet you thirty bucks that I can convince her to have sex with me.” The first guy said, the one that had noticed you in the first place.

“Dude, there’s no fucking way she’d have sex with you.” The next guy said. “Look at her! She’s way out of your league. Plus, even if you could pull her, where are the two of you gonna do it uh? The dirty gas station bathroom?”

“Sure why not? I bet she wouldn’t mind it at all.” He winked. His comment caused Dean to chuckle a little to himself, knowing how wrong that guy was. You and Dean have had sex in a variety of different places, but never a gas station bathroom. “Dean, as much as I love you, I’m not fucking in a gas station bathroom. That’s honestly my only limitation.” You once told him. “So, Waffle House bathroom is okay then?” He joked back, causing you to give him a playful smack on the arm from his remark.

“Dude, she’s not gonna give you the time of day. She needs a real man. And that ain’t you.” The man started walking around to the other side of the pump and started making his way toward the store. You ain’t a real man dude. Dean thought to himself. None of them were what he would call a man, only boys pretending to be.

“Watch and learn boys!” The guy said using his most charismatic voice. Dean wasn’t worried at all; he knew that you would never give the guy the time of day. You two had been together for the last couple of years, and the group of quote on quote men weren’t remotely your type in the slightest. Dean had seen pictures of your previous exes or have worked cases with them before. All your previous exes besides about one were all hunters; not varsity jock looking guys, and that’s what those guys were.

“Hey kid, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Dean finally chimed in. At first, he wasn’t even going to say anything. He had almost wanted to see the boy come back out the store with the look of utter embarrassment on his face when you had rejected him; which he knew was going to happen. But the jealous side of him won in that moment. He knew that you were more than capable of handling yourself – you were one of the best hunters he’d ever seen or worked with. He’d seen you get hit on plenty of times either when you two went to the bar together or while working a case; but those men never seemed like threats to him. But this time, this time felt different for him.

“I’m sorry?” The guy questioned.

“I said, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Dean said, his voice a bit more stern than usual.

“What’s it to you?” The guy asked, giving a slight snort.

“She’s going to reject you buddy. Trust me.” Dean finished filling the car up and put the pump back in its place. “Just trying to save you the embarrassment in front of your buddies here.”

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?” The guy turned to look at you. You were currently standing at the counter laughing, probably at something the clerk had just said with two apple pie containers in your hands. Although Dean couldn’t hear your laugh, the sound of it echoed in his brain. God, he loved the sound of your laugh.

“That piece of ass” Dean began to say, hating using the words that they had used to describe you, “is my girlfriend.” Dean smirked. He had hoped that his usual tactic would work like it had done in the past. In the past, whenever Dean was with a woman; regardless if she was his girlfriend or not, the minute he said the word girlfriend to another guy that was hitting on his girlfriend, date, etc. the guy would usually back off, not wanting to get into any trouble. But his usual tactic didn’t work, it had simply just made the guy laugh.

“Your girlfriend?” The man laughed again. “Yeah, okay Old Man.”

“Old, Old Man?” Dean was caught off guard. No one had ever really called him an old man before; the only one who ever did it was Claire, but she was the exception, because she was basically family to him.

“Yeah. What are you? Like 50?” The guy behind him chimed in.

Dean turned around. “50? You think I’m 50? I’m 42 dude.” Yet more laughter from the men.

“Close enough.” The man that was close to the store said. At that moment Dean had saw you wave goodbye to the clerk and started to head out toward the door. The man looked at you, and then eyed his buddies, making his way toward Dean. “Listen, tell her that if she wants someone that can keep it up without the use of meds and doesn’t go to bed before 6, to give me a call.” The guy said, giving Dean’s shoulder a slight pat before going into the car with his other three buddies.

Dean started to take out his gun just as the guy in the driver’s seat started the engine. Before he could fully take out his gun you were standing next to him, two boxes of pie in your hands and a slight look of worry on your face. “Can I shoot them?” He asked you.

“Not in public.” You responded, handing him one of the boxes. “What did they say to you?” You were curious, and you had every right to be. Even though you were accustomed to Dean pulling out his gun, you were confused as to why he had wanted to pull it out in that moment, especially since you were pretty sure that the men in the car weren’t any kind of monsters.

“Nothing.” Dean was quick to respond, but his response sounded angry, almost hurt.

“It didn’t look like nothing. Especially since you asked if you could shoot them.” Dean handed you back the box of pie that you had just given him, causing you to give him an even more worried look.

“Can we just leave?” His voice was panicked now, maybe with a small hint of embarrassment.

“Yeah.” Was all you said as the two of you got into Baby.

There was a strong silence between the two of you, and it wasn’t the comfortable kind like you were used to. That was one of the things that you had loved most about Dean; that you and him didn’t constantly need to fill the silence with talking. It was something that you enjoyed because your past boyfriends always needed to have some kind of conversation going because they hated the silence. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Always.” You turned your attention to Dean.

“Am I…Am I old?” He asked. His eyes flicked in your direction and then back onto the road.

“Old?” You asked, not sure if you had heard him right. Him asking if he was old was something that had caught you off guard.

“Yeah. Am I old?” He repeated again.

“Did those guys back there say you were old Dean?” This conversation topic was something that Dean would have never brought up, not unless someone had specifically said something to him. The last time he had this conversation with you was because Claire had jokingly called him an Old Man.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Dean stated. You were positive that’s what it was.

“No. You’re not old Dean. I don’t even know why you would think that.” You knew why he would think that; you were pretty sure that the men back at the gas station had said something to him about it. But you didn’t know why they would have said something to him.

“Those guys back at the gas station called me…Old Man.” His voice sounded slightly defeated, like he was embarrassed even though he had no reason to be. “I caught those assholes looking at you, making comments.” He turned to face you for a slight moment before looking back at the road, his knuckles started to turn white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “They were trying to make a bet about who would be able to pick you up. When I confronted them about it, telling them that you were my girlfriend, that’s when they laughed and called me an old man.”

“Dean –” You began to say, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“Sweetheart, I know you could have handled that yourself. You have a black belt in three different martial arts and you don’t take any kind of shit from anyone. Hell, a part of me had wanted to see you embarrass the guy because I know for a fact that he isn’t your type but…he was your age.” He was your age.

“Well, you’re not old. It’s not like you’re 90 Dean. You’re 42. That’s still young.” You stated, putting your hand on his thigh, a small gesture that you knew he loved. You had hoped that your comment would make him feel slightly better.

“I’m not young Sweetheart, you are. I got like 15 years on you.” His response made your face drop.

“That’s never been a problem for you before. I mean, it’s not like I’m 17 Dean, I’m three years shy of 30.” When you first met Dean, it was roughly five years ago when you were 22 and he was 37. Initially when you had first met him, you had figured that the two of you would be nothing more than just friends due to the semi-massive age difference that there was between the two of you, despite the fact that you did find him attractive. For the first couple of years that you knew him, you didn’t try to pursue anything; and neither did he, although the two of you had similar feelings. Dean had figured that you wouldn’t want to be with someone his age, and you thought that he didn’t want to be with someone your age. It wasn’t until Cas said something and both of you almost dying on a hunt that caused you two to realize that maybe you should give it a shot – and you’ve been together ever since.

“Exactly. You’re three years shy of 30. I’m far, far past that. You know what I was doing at 30? Trying to stop the Apocalypse. When I was 30, you were still in high school. You weren’t even on my radar back then.”

“Would have been pretty good jailbait though.” You joked.

“Not funny.” He responded.

“I’m not laughing.” You said back.

“Can I ask you another question?” His knuckles were still white against the steering wheel.

“Of course.” What else could you possibly say?

“Why me? Why out of all the guys you could possibly be with, that are your own age, that you actively choose to be with me? I mean, I know I drink too much, I have way, way too many screws loose, I’ve been to Hell, Purgatory, been possessed more times than I can count, I have major trust issues, PTSD.” He looked over at you again. “The list goes on and on. I’m all kinds of fucked up Sweetheart.” Your heart sank at Dean’s comments. You hated more than anything when he talked bad about himself, because there was no reason for him to do that.

“Pull over.” Was all you said.

Dean looked at you with a confused expression. “What?”

“Did I stutter? I said pull over.” Your voice was stern now, but it made Dean pull over on the side of the road.

“Dean, the fact that you even have to ask me why I’m with you shows me that you don’t actually realize or understand the reasons why I love you. You’re right, I could be with someone my own age. But you know what? I don’t want to. I’ve dated people my age, and they honestly suck. Hunters or not, men my age or even a year or two older have no fucking clue what they want in life. The only thing they’re positive about is wanting to fuck anything that has a pulse and gaslight women.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “My parents used to tell me, ‘not all men,’ and I knew that. You may have a slight case of alcoholism –”

“A slight case?” Dean interrupted, raising an eyebrow. He thought you saying that he only had a slight case of alcoholism was a tad too generous.

You pointed a finger at him. “Don’t interrupt me.” Dean put up his hands in defeat. “As I was saying. You may have a slight case of alcoholism, are insanely prone to nightmares, get angry more often than you probably should, enjoy murder every now and then, have been to Hell and Purgatory and back, but wanna know something? I’ll take all of that, gladly! Because you are honestly the best man I could ever ask for. Yes, you have some flaws, but who doesn’t? I mean look at me for example.” You went into your jacket and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m someone who brings a hunting knife wherever they go like it’s a security blanket. No normal person does that Dean.”

“As you should. You need to be prepared at a moments notice.” He agreed.

“Exactly! No sane person would agree with me.” You said, putting back your hunting knife.

“Y/N, are you saying that part of the reason you’re with me is because I’m not sane?” He raised an eyebrow. He’s been called crazy or insane more times than he could count, so this wasn’t particularly newsworthy for him.

“I was thinking more…cautious.” You shrugged. “I mean…No, cautious isn’t the right word. You are cautious but…” You were really trying to come up with the right word to tell Dean, and you could feel it on the tip of your tongue. “What I’m trying to say is, any other guy would be freaked the fuck out if they saw me walking around with a hunting knife in my jacket. You? You couldn’t give two fucks. And you wanna know something else? I’ve worked with a lot of hunters over the years before I met up with you and Sam, who just looked at me and laughed because of my age, thinking that I don’t know the difference between rock salt and holy water.” You took one of his hands in yours intertwining your fingers. “You, not including Sam of course, accepted me as someone that actually knows a thing or two about hunting despite my age. You treated me like your equal. Hunter or not.”

You treated me like your equal. Your words rang in Dean’s mind. “Of course I treat you like my equal Sweetheart. What man wouldn’t? ‘Sides those other hunters and the Jayhawks spirit squad back there.” He chuckled, and you let out a small laugh too.

“Exactly. You’re a feminist icon.” You smiled.

“A feminist icon uh? Who knew?” Dean finally smiled.

“In all seriousness, I could give a rat’s ass about your age. You treat me right and my parents love you. What else could I possibly ask for?” You gave his hand a slight squeeze as you shot him another smile, but a softer one this time.

“Still amazed that your parents love me.” He said, starting to lean in closer to you.

“You treat their daughter right. That’s all they care about.” You confessed. When you had first told your parents about Dean, one of the first things they asked is if he was treating you right, they never asked about his age. And when they had met him, they still never commented on that fact, even when he wasn’t in the room.

He caressed your face. “I really am lucky to have you.” He smiled and leaned in fully to kiss you. “I love you so much.”

You smiled. “I love you more.”

He let out a slight chuckle. “Show off.”

“Always.” You responded, leaning in to kiss him again.

#dean Winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #spn #supernatural #reader insert #female reader

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tongue-like-a-razor · 11 months

Text

Brother's Best Friend - Part 4

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Did I write an angstier version of this chapter and then rewrite the last half entirely because y'all deserve a fluffy read? Yes, yes I did. Thank you for all your wonderful ideas! I've got them all lined up for future chapters hehehe So don't be blaming me for the heartache you're inflicting upon yourselves XD Muah!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Swearing, suggestive language, protective Jake

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist

“You have a what?” Jake exclaims, nearly choking on his coffee.

“A date,” you repeat, smiling giddily at both him and Bradley. “We met at pub night last week and we’ve been texting.”

“Texting?” Jake raises his eyebrows skeptically. He looks over at Bradley as though he expects him to express an opinion, but Bradley just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Be careful,” your brother says, returning his attention to the plate of scrambled eggs before him.

You snort. “In what way?”

“In all ways,” Jake chimes in, clearly annoyed that Bradley has nothing else to add. “Guys are dicks so keep your guard up.”

You give Jake a humorous look. “Not all guys,” you say.

Jake nods at you. “All guys.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “This isn’t my first date, Jake.”

“Just work under the assumption that all guys are dicks, alright?” he says. “That way, when he turns out to be a dick, you won’t be shocked.”

You set down the jar of jam you’re holding and let out a sigh. Since the incident with couch girl, Jake has gone out with three different women, which, to be fair, is normal for him. Still, you’re just about done pining over your brother’s best friend, whose signals you’ve clearly misread. If guys are dicks, then Jake Seresin is exhibit A. “He’s actually super sweet,” you say, taking your toast out of the toaster.

“Don’t be fooled,” Jake mutters.

Bradley grimaces as he looks up at you. “He’s not wrong.”

“I have dated plenty of nice guys,” you say. “Just because the two of you are assholes to women, doesn’t mean all men are.”

Bradley claps a hand to his chest. “Me?” he cries in disbelief.

Jake puckers his lips and gives you a sheepish grin without disputing your claim.

“I’m not going into this with your negative energy,” you say, waving your arms at the two of them. “Because maybe he’s nothing like you.”

“One could hope.” Jake shrugs.

Bradley eyes him dubiously. “Just be careful,” he repeats.

“Don’t worry, it’s just dinner and a movie,” you say, bringing your breakfast to the table.

“What movie are you going to go see?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “We’re going back to his place so probably something on Netflix.”

Jake sets down his fork and knife and stares at you. “You’re going where?”

You ignore Jake’s outburst and take a bite out of your toast. “I’ll be home late,” you say, mostly to Bradley. “So, don’t wait up.”

Jake stares at you. “You can’t just go to some random dude’s home,” he says.

You cock your head at him inquisitively. “Interesting advice coming from someone who brings home random girls almost daily.”

Jake presses his lips together and exhales moodily. “That’s different.”

Bradley smirks, eyeing him expectantly.

“How?” you ask.

Jake rises from his seat and lifts his coffee cup. “Do whatever you want,” he says. “Bradshaw, let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

Bradley gives you a resigned sort of look and shoves one last piece of toast into his mouth. “I’m driving,” he says with his mouth full.

“You better not be blocking me in!” you yell at their backs as they head for the front door.

…

That night, your date drops you off at the end of your driveway, leaning in for a kiss before you exit his car. You give him a quick peck and a tight smile before stepping out of the vehicle, knowing that, despite the evening having been pleasant enough, you’re probably not going to pursue the relationship further.

He asks about seeing you later in the week and you peek back through his car window and respond with a polite maybe because perhaps the guy deserves another chance. You walk up to the porch as he drives away, and then try the door before searching for your keys in the dark.

The door is unlocked, so you walk in, flicking on the light, and the first thing you see is Jake as he steps away from the window facing the driveway and places his hands on his hips.

“He didn’t want to walk you to the door?” he asks sternly.

You grimace at him. “Why are you here?”

“Bradley had to stay late tonight so I came to make sure you got home alright.”

You blink at him coolly. “And that involves spying on me?”

“If I were spying on you, you wouldn’t know about it,” Jake retorts, starting for the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“I just came from dinner,” you remind him, taking off your heels.

You follow him into the kitchen, dropping your purse on the floor as you go. You’re suddenly feeling extremely tired. Jake opens the refrigerator and starts taking out ingredients for a meal while you walk past him and land on the couch in the living room. Jake cranes his neck to look at you over the island. “I’m making spaghetti,” he calls.

“Knock yourself out,” you reply, closing your eyes.

You hear Jake step around the island and enter the living room, and then you feel the depression of the couch as he plants himself down by your feet. You open your eyes again. “Yes?” you say.

Jake watches you blankly for a second before finally blurting out, “How’d it go?”

You furrow your eyebrows, still confused by his interest in your dating life. You pull your knees up so that your feet don’t keep sliding into him and pretend like you aren’t at all intrigued by his question. “Fine,” you respond nonchalantly.

Jake nods although he doesn’t look entirely satisfied with your answer. “Still think he’s nice?”

You eye him wryly. “Very.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Too nice?”

You make a face at him. “What’s too nice?”

Jake shrugs. “Boring.”

You give him a flat look. “This perspective explains so much,” you say, pointing at him reproachfully.

Jake laughs. “Girls don’t like nice guys.”

“I like nice guys!” you exclaim, sitting up with renewed energy.

Jake eyes you skeptically. “Sure, you do.” His gaze sweeps over your face in a slightly provocative manner and you get the sense again that he might be into you. And this possibility sends a rush through your body that makes your head spin. However, you remind yourself that, if this were, in fact, the case, Jake wouldn’t be going out and sleeping with a new woman every other night, because that would be counterintuitive. Besides, you are getting over him, anyway. You are well on your way to recovery.

You shake your head at him and lean your back into the armrest of the couch.

“You dressed up for him,” he notes, meeting your gaze as you glance up at him.

“Would you rather I undressed for him?” you ask pointedly.

Jake blinks at you uncomfortably. He looks like he might be sick. “Don’t joke about that,” he says, rubbing his forehead anxiously.

“You started it.”

“I just meant ” – he sighs without looking at you – “I just meant, you look good.”

“Then just say that,” you retort. “Without being a dick about it.”

He turns to look at you with an apologetic sort of cringe contorting his features. “Guess I’m not a ‘nice’ guy,” he mutters, complete with air quotes.

You stare at him, wondering if he’s hinting at something. You kick him in the leg with your foot. “Don’t be weird.”

He chuckles. “Come on,” he says, rising from the couch. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But I want company,” he says with a slight whine, bending forward to grab your wrists and pull you up off the couch.

You let him lift you to your feet, your body crashing briefly into his while you find your balance. Jake releases you instantly and takes a step back, holding his hands up as though he doesn’t want to be held responsible for initiating the contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters quickly.

You give him a look. “I said, don't be weird, Jake.”

…

Three weeks later, you’re sitting with Jake on a patio, waiting for Bradley to bring the three of you drinks from the bar.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say tentatively, making sure that Bradley is still inside the pub.

“Shoot,” Jake responds, downing the last of his beer.

“It’s about my boyfriend,” you say.

Jake cringes. “He’s your boyfriend now?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. We haven’t really formally established our relationship status.”

Jake nods. “And you want out?”

“What? No!”

“What’s the question, then?” Jake raises his eyebrows.

“It’s about the sex,” you say, stirring your drink with your straw to avoid looking at him.

“The what?” Jake exclaims, reaching for his empty glass of beer and bringing it to his mouth before realizing there is nothing left.

You clear your throat and glance up at him, slightly mortified. “It’s… it’s good, it’s just” –

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouts, leaping up from his seat as though your words have burned him. “I don’t want to hear about that!”

You give him a flat look. “Jake, I literally found you naked on my couch last month. The least you could do is give me some guidance.”

Jake squirms. “I’m not – I can’t,” he stammers. “I don’t think I can listen to this.”

“Why not?!”

Jake lets out a dramatic moan. “Why don’t you ask your brother?”

“For advice on my sex life?” you hiss.

“Don’t you have friends?” Jake asks, dropping back into his seat.

“I need a guy’s opinion.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and gives his head a slight shake to indicate that he’s still not on board with this turn of events. “Don’t you have guy friends?”

You nod. “I do. And you’re one of them. Are you not?”

Jake stares at you defeatedly. “How detailed is this going to get?”

You glance over your shoulder to check on the crowd of people waiting for drinks at the bar, looking for your brother. You spot him nowhere near the counter, chatting up a stunning brunette, and resolve that you have at least fifteen minutes alone with Jake. You turn back to him and say, “That depends on how helpful you want to be.”

Jake whimpers. “I have no alcohol left.”

You roll your eyes. “Have mine,” you say, sliding your cocktail across the bistro table.

Jake takes the glass from you, his hand wrapping momentarily around yours before you let go. “Okay,” he says, taking a big gulp. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” you say with a hesitant sigh. “So, the thing is, he really wants to try” –

“Nope, no, nuh-uh,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.” He buries his face in his hands.

“Dude, I need your help!”

“You want my advice? Here it is,” he says, leaning into the table so suddenly that you jerk backward just to prevent a collision between your two faces. “Doesn’t matter what he wants to try if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“But it’s” –

Jake holds up a hand. “I don’t care what it is. If you’re sittin’ here talkin’ to me about it, it means you don’t want to do it.”

You stare at him, wondering when Jake Seresin had the opportunity to amass such profound wisdom. You furrow your eyebrows. “Even if it’s, like, supposedly a normal thing people do?”

Jake hooks his eyebrow; you’ve piqued his interest. “That’s what he told you?”

You nod slowly.

Jake lets out a long, heavy breath through his nose, his lips pressed tightly together as his jaw clenches. He studies your face with a look of concern. “You tell that asshole that the next time he pressures you into doing anything, he’s going to have to deal with me.” Jake takes another swig of your cocktail and then adds, “And your brother, of course.”

You grimace. “He’s not pressuring me. It just… was brought to my attention that there is a particular thing that we could be doing – that many people do – that we’re not currently doing – that… ugh, it would be so much easier if you just let me tell you what the thing is!”

Jake places a hand on your knee. “If you tell me what the thing is, I might hurl.” You groan in frustration while Jake pats your leg sympathetically. He shakes his head. “I knew this guy was gonna be a dick.”

Read Part 5

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redbullgirly · 3 months

Note

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! :)

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whirlwindimagines · 1 year

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Helloo this is my first time asking here so I'm not entirely sure if I'm doing this correctly haha...

Could you do a Vash x shy reader where they can't look at him for too long because they think he's too good looking? Sorry if the request was too weird XD

You're fine I understand the request! He is just so pretty lol hope you enjoy it! I had too much fun with this, lol I feel like sometimes you’ll never know what you’ll get when you request from me! I also don't know what I'm doing! I just like writing fun and light scenes.

Edit: Vash won the poll I know it’s not over, but it was a landslide lol a Wolfwood x Reader will go up tomorrow :)

'One step closer, we're gonna be alright'

Vash X Reader

You woke with a soft yawn, sleeping in the car wasn’t the best but sometimes it was your ragtag group's only option. You just didn’t remember the car window being so comfy and soft. Opening your eyes slowly, and glancing over your make a strangled noise of surprise.

Blushing brightly at the knowledge that you had been using Vash’s shoulder as a pillow, you pick your head up trying not to wake the man up in the process. God, you hate how he makes your heart race and he’s not even awake!

Luck wasn’t on your side as you watch Vash yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes it forces him to push his glasses up and the whole movement is just too cute for your heart. He looks over at you, his eyes lighting up once he sees you awake. “Sleep well?” If it was anyone else you would figure he was teasing you, but since it was well Vash you know he was genuinely asking.

Looking away and out the window, you noticed the car was stopped and well it was just you and Vash. “Fine… where’s everyone else?” You ask trying to change the subject, God you can't even look at the man, hands fisted nervously in your lap.

You watch Vash out of the corner of your eye as he stretches taking up most of the back seat, you can't blame him it gets really cramped in here. “Stopped to stretch their legs and refill the car, I didn't want to wake you up.” He must have fallen asleep then as well or pretended to. Your hands go to your face, great so everyone else probably saw that too.

Before you can say anything, the door on your side is thrown open Wolfwood shoves you towards Vash and you crash into him, “Your hoggin the seat.” he says this with a smirk as he looks at you, glaring at him you kick him right in the shin and he lets out a little ‘hey!’ Wolfwood gets over it and laughs when your entire face turns red when Vash puts his hands on your shoulders to adjust you in the middle seat.

Giving Wolfwood the finger, you quietly thank Vash. The three of you settle in the back, while Meryl gets into the driver's seat, and Roberto in the passenger seat. The car starts and heads out into the dunes, it's still night and while you’d like to get more sleep you were too wired, sitting in between the two men. It's when you feel a shove, glaring at Wolfwood as he subtly shoves you into Vash, you know exactly what he's doing.

“Stop touching me.” You snap at him quietly, God the eavesdropping little shit was pissing you off! You wish you never admitted your crush on Vash to Meryl! You had no idea the Undertaker had been around the corner and he’d been harassing you ever since. You got so flustered around Vash that it was painful, and Wolfwood loved torturing you.

“I'm not.” He replies, as he shoves you more into Vash, you can hear Vash sigh beside you. Probably tired of the childish arguments, your shoulder presses into the blonde, but you're too annoyed to notice. “You're touching me right now!” “Am not” the argument continues, as the others in the car ignore the two of you too tired to really care.

You turn, your back pressing into Vash's side, and you bring your knees up and kick at Wolfwood, who just blocks your kicks yelling at you that you are cheating. How can you even cheat at whatever the hell this was?

“Why don't we switch.” Vash interrupts always the peacekeeper; he looks at you with a smile. And it makes you shut your mouth, “Great idea.” Wolfwood says with a chuckle, as Meryl sighs “We're not pulling over because the kids are fighting.” she glances at you through the review mirror you just stick your tongue out at her.

“Here just let me.” You let out a yelp as Wolfwood grabs your legs and pulls you towards him. He maneuvers you easily enough, you doubt you weigh anything to him with that gun he carries around. Yelling at him to let you go, he manages to very awkwardly scoop you into his arms. And with a very sharp turn, he throws you at Vash who lets out a startled yelp his arms shooting to catch you and make sure you don't hit your head on anything.

You ungracefully land right in Vash's lap, one of his hands behind your head to brace it and the other wrapping around your waist. He's telling Wolfwood off, but all you can do is stare at his pretty face as he argues with the other man. He really is so pretty, and oh he's looking right at you and talking… wait what is he saying. “What?” you practically squeak at him, his brows furrow, God this is probably the longest you’ve held eye contact with him!

“Are you alright?” He asks with concern in his eyes before you can answer Wolfwood does for you, “Oh they are more than alright now, and I'm sure extra comfy.” You get some satisfaction when you kick him right in the side and he gives a little ‘oof’ You let out a gasp when you feel Vash grip your waist with both his hands, he moves you so now you are sitting by the door and him in the middle.

You swear he gives you a light squeeze before letting go, you’re going to die of embarrassment! With a shy thanks, you have to look away when he gives you a gentle closed-eye smile. Leaning your face on the cool window, you beg for your blush to vanish. You don't know how much longer you can handle this crush on Vash, you can barely even look at the blonde and he was just way too sweet to you!

With a soft sigh, you close your eyes, you didn't know how long it would be till the next town and you need to calm your racing heart anyway. You are on the verge of falling asleep, when you feel something soft and warm drape over you, cracking your eyes open a bit to see what it is your heart skips a beat when you recognize Vash’s red coat.

Forcing your eyes close as you feel Vash shift beside you, his hands are light and quick as he adjusts the coat around you making sure you are covered. Comfy and feeling safe you fall asleep to Wolfwoods light scoff, and Vash shushing him.

a/n: Part 2? :3 aka an excuse for me to write another confession with Vash! only my favorite thing! Part 2 is up!

#vash the stampede x reader #vash imgaine #vash imagines #vash x reader #vash the stampede #vash x you #trigun #trigun stampede imagine #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede #trigun x reader

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