#english man with sad brown eyes? he’s THERE
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and well see the thing is that queen charlotte has quite literally everything red white royal blue has and then also queen charlotte is good. so why aren’t we talking about her.
#couple that’s ridiculously insane about each other for no reason? charlotte and george are right there#gay sex? this show HAS it.#english man with sad brown eyes? he’s THERE#i could get into the plot stuff but i KNOW nobody watching red white royal blue gave a shit about the plot#beth.txt#anyway i think we should all watch queen charlotte and yes i’m aware that many people already watched it and EYE was late#but still.
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hii I love your work 🙈🙈 can you do one with colby where the reader is a medium and the place is like really active?
medium | c.b.
pairing: colby brock x fem!medium!reader
summary: you’re a guest in sam and colby’s video.
warnings: use of y/n, the place they are exploring is totally made up by me, bad writing and grammar(sorry, english isn’t my first language)
an: thank you so much for this idea, i hope you’ll like it <3
“What’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby!” Colby started video “Today we will be exploring this house” he pointed camera at the big white house behind him.
“It’s Mallory’s house.” Sam added ”The place where Mallory watched her family being murdered and then died there herself because of starvation.” he explained “People says she and her family to this day are there. Also, there’s a rumor that Mallory is waiting for the killer to come back to take her revenge. But we’ll tell you about it later!” he clapped his hands.
“But we’re not alone here.” Colby said and waved at you so you stood between them „For the first time ever, my girlfriend y/n will be investigating with us!”
“And it’s even more exciting because she is a medium.” sam moved his eyebrows suggestively and you laughed quietly “Y/n how are you feeling about it?”
“Excited, that will be the first time ever I will actually try to use my ‚gift’ intentionally.” you smiled at camera “I guess it won’t be hard since I already can feel this house.”
“Oh what do you feel?” Colby asked curiously.
“There is certainly something. I can’t really say yet if it’s good or how it feels about us being here but it’s not threatening.” you explained “I think it’s curious what we will do.”
“Good to know.” Sam smiled at you and then smiled mischievously at the camera and then at Colby “I have some surprise for you Colby.” he stated “When I was doing research I found some rumor that I didn’t tell you about.”
“What’s going on?” Colby already could tell he probably won’t like this.
“So like I said, there’s this rumor that, like you know, Mallory is waiting for her family’s killer to come back to have her revenge, but there’s also this thing that apparently she’s targeting mans that are similar to the killer.” he explained “And guess what? You have brown hair, blue eyes and you’re tall and pale, just like Many!” he cheered and you laughed while Colby sighed with resignation.
“Great” he said ironically „Let’s go, we can’t keep Mallory waiting to hurt me.”
“Don’t worry, I will save you.” you joked and he smiled softly at you and kissed your cheek.
“I feel safer now.”
|||
After your guide left you alone in the house you started to feel stronger emotions.
“I’m not sure why but now I feel everything stronger. It’s like guide was calming them.” you explained to the camera.
“They already were familiar with guide so maybe he made Mallory feel safer and now, without him here, she keeps her guard up.” Sam offered and you agreed that it was possible.
„So y/n, what do you feel, can you see something?” Colby pointed camera at you again.
„Yeah, I feel that here are few people but I can only see one. It’s a little girl standing next to the staircase. She’s observing us but she’s nice one.” you assured them „ I think it’s Mallory’s sister, Naya?”
You could see the little girl nodding and you smiled softly at her.
„Yes, it’s her.” you said „I have no idea who is it but there’s one spirit that is the strongest and definitely isn’t the nicest. Not bad or threatening but also isn’t inviting.” you stated „I can feel strong emotions like sadness and nostalgy. I think they might be trapped here.”
„That’s interesting.” Sam looked impressed „So only Naya is with us in the room?”
„No, there’s at least two more spirits but only Naya let me see her.”
„Okay, so I think we can start with a spirit box.” Colby offered.
|||
You were going from room to room and now you had only two more rooms left.
Mallory’s bedroom and playroom where Mallory was left by a murderer to die from starvation.
You were about to come into her bedroom when you started feeling weird.
„I feel uncomfortable.” you said and boys said they also felt like that „I don’t think she likes us very much.”
„So Mallory is in her room?” Colby asked and finally you all went into the said room.
„Yeah, I think she was here the whole time because I felt her before but only now I feel her presence so much.” you said.
„Okay, let’s start.” Sam pointed camera at himself and started talking „Hey Mallory, we’re sorry if you don’t like us but we’re coming in peace. We only want to share your story with the world. We don’t want to mess with you or disrespect you.”
You all heard knocks.
„Thank you for listening to us.” Colby said „We will use this box, it’s called spirit box and you can talk to it and it will communicate it to us.”
„I’m not sure what’s going on but I just started to feel really weird.” you stated and Sam pointed the camera at you „I feel uneasy, like something is about to happen. I think she doesn’t like the spirit box.”
„Oh, we are sorry Mallory, but we promise it won’t do anything to you, it only will help us to communicate with you.” Sam explained.
Colby turned on the spirit box and it immediately said „hurt”.
„Killer hurt you?” Sam asked and box said yes after a moment.
„Do you want a revenge on Many?” Sam asked and immediately after he said killer’s name you all could hear thud, like someone punched the wall.
Boys continued to ask questions but you keep quietly trying to breathe evenly. The feeling of uneasiness only got stronger and you felt as you were choked. Suddenly it stopped but the uncomfortable feeling stayed.
Your intuition was alarming you and you looked ay Colby. You could feel something you couldn’t name.
Your head started to pound and you felt need to sit down. You sat down on the floor and boys looked at you with concern.
„What happened?” Colby stood next you „You okay?”
„Yeah, I just felt like I need to sit down or I will fall.” you explained „My head hurts.”
„Do you want us to do a break? We can go outside for a moment.” Colby offered and wanted to help you up but you only waved him off.
„No, I’m okay. It’s getting better. We can continue but I need to sit for a moment, I don’t trust my legs right now.” you laughed and boys nodded but you could see they were keeping careful eye on you. They went back to asking questions.
You actually started to feel better but you couldn’t shake off the bad feeling that something was about to happen.
„Guys.” you said alarmed after a moment when you felt something „We should go to the other room. She doesn’t want us here.” just as you said it, the spirit box said „yes” and „get out”.
„Alright, lets go to the playroom.”
You changed rooms and started investigating. You still felt uncomfortable and your headache was coming back even harder but you said nothing not wanting to interrupt their conversation with Naya.
Suddenly Colby hissed „Fuck, something scratched me!” he explained and lifted his shirt showing two red lines running down his stomach.
You looked at him concerned but before you could ask if he’s okay your vision started to get blurry and you lost balance and if Colby wasn’t next you you would fall.
„Hey, hey, you with us?” you could hear concern in Sam’s voice while Colby carefully sat with you on the floor.
„Yeah, I just felt this uneasiness and headache when suddenly my vision became blurry and I couldn’t keep my balance.” you explained, blinking to make your vision clearer.
Then you felt something new and somehow you knew what that meant.
„Something is trying to target Colby.” you said and boys looked surprised „I think it’s Mallory. Sam, you said she’s targeting people having similarities with the killer?”
„Yes.” Sam confirmed while looking with concern at Colby.
„I’m not sure how but I think I already knew she was targeting him and I unconsciously was trying to shield him somehow but when she scratched him it also affected me.”
„Shield me?” Colby asked with confusion.
„I can’t explain this but when I see or feel a spirit I have some control over him. It’s like authority thing. It knows I know they are there so they aren’t sure about me. She must feel I care about you and it was harder for her to attack you but she tried.” you said and boys looked impressed.
„Amanda said something similar last time.” Sam said „Spirits doesn’t like mediums because they are afraid of their abilities. It must affect them somehow.”
„Yeah” you nodded.
„Are you feeling okay now? Do you want to stop, take a break?” Colby looked at you concerned but you denied.
„I’ll be okay but we should work faster and get out of here. Mallory doesn’t like us and I think she’s trying to hurt you.” you said, last part mainly to Colby who just nodded but didn’t stood up from where he was holding you behind you.
Sam understood what Colby wanted to do and also sat on the floor.
„We will continue investigating sitting in case y/n feel worse.” Sam informed viewers and you felt grateful.
„Mallory, what y/n said was true?” Colby asked „Do you want to hurt me but she’s stopping you?” you could hear a thud in answer. It was loud and very close to you three. „Is it because I remind you of Many?” again thud, this time even louder.
„We are sorry that Colby reminds you ab…” something interrupted Sam’s. And by something you meant a weird scratching sound that was dangerously close to Colby’s back.
„What the hell?” Colby looked at the floor behind him but there was nothing, then he suddenly yelped and his head leaned back, then he said „Something just…like pulled me by hair.”
„What the hell?” you narrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room „Mallory is angry.”
„Should we go?” Sam looked at you but before you could say anything doors to the playroom closed themselves „What the fuck.”
„I think she doesn’t want us to leave just yet.” Colby furrowed his brows and you heard knocks.
„Okay, Mallory were you the one who pulled Colby’s hair?” you asked after Sam turned on the spirit box. It immediately confirmed.
You wanted to say something more but you started to feel nauseous and your headache was back. You felt like you couldn’t move or even open your mouth, your vision became blurry and you couldn’t hear anything, just ringing.
And when you were in this state Mallory again attacked Colby, this time making bigger three scratches on his arm.
„Hey, what’s with y/n?” Sam asked concerned after they inspected Colby’s wound. Colby looked at you and immediately tried to shake you off this trance. He succeeded but only after few seconds.
„We should get out” you said panicked. You felt very off and you could feel yourself shaking „I can’t explain it but if we stay here someone’s gonna get hurt badly.” you stated and felt like someone placed their hand on your neck. You reached there and touch was gone but Sam gasped.
„Your neck, it has handprint.” he showed it to the camera and Colby immediately got up and helped you. You started taking your things when there was next thud.
„Mallory and everyone else, you can’t follow us out of the house and you can’t hurt us. You are not allowed to.” Colby said sternly and you all walked out of the house and when Sam reached to close the door after you, they closed themselves.
„Holy shit, I’m not sure if we ever got so much evidence.” Sam sighed and looked at the camera that was still recording „I think it was caught on camera how they closed.”
He stopped recording and you get into the car where boys decided to record outro and then Colby drove to your hotel.
„Are you sure you okay?” Colby asked for the hundred time since you got to your room.
„Yes, Colbs, I’m good.” you kissed his cheek.
„Promise me you will never again try to shield me. Not if it’s gonna affect you like that.” he asked „It pained me to even look at how you looked there, it was like you were about to leave your body. Don’t scare me like that ever again please.” he kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter.
You rolled your eyes, like you could ever let something happen to him if you could stop that.
„Can’t promise you that Colby, I love you too much to let something get to you.” you kissed him.
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Don’t write it it stinks of toxic love
synopsis: Nate never found someone to love, Rafe was never loved and Y/N was never taken serious Maybe their entry into college will change their lives.
Frat Rafe x Reader x Frat Nate.
[English is not my native language❗️❗️]
TW: toxic, smut, sex, penetration, fingering, non-con, manipulation , insult, fight, humiliation, misogynistic attitude.
[PART1]
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______________________________________________
NATE
The summer vacation had not been easy for Nathaniel Jacobs. Between the divorce of his parents, Cassie who was just stalking his and his going to college, nothing was right.
Two weeks before homecoming, he decided to go to Chris Mckay’s, he was happy that Mckay was still talking to him about what happened between him and Cassie.
They were in Mckay’s room playing a fighting game. They were focused in their game when Nate was talking. "Dude?". Mckay turned his head to look at him. "Yeah?" he said.
"How’s college, I mean is there a lot of hot chicks?" Mckay and Nate laugh, Nate laugh to hide his anxiety.
Nate wanted to leave, college was one of the best ways. What Nate was afraid of was not being number one. He was afraid that he would not be THE best football player. That he is not indispensable to his team.
"Nah, man, college is where you can fuck whoever you want, it’s not like high school, people don’t give a shit about who’s fucking who, as long as it’s not cheating." Mckay said.
"How do you get respect?" Nate asks. Mckay seems to think long." I had sex with the cheerleading captain and the opposing college captain. Nate opens his eyes wide. "Two cheerleaders but not the same team or the same college?"
"You’re gaining huge popularity and a huge repsect. You’re teammates will trust you after that." Mckay laughed." So if I understand correctly, a good fuck with a cheerleader captain is the deal?" asks Nate. "Got it all figured out, man. But one advice, close the door of your room when you’re inside."
Mckay’s expression changes, it becomes empty and hard. Filled with hate and sadness. Nate nods, and as he was about to speak the door opens. Drawing the attention of Nate and the latter.
"Chris, your aunt is here, comes to help her carry her boxes." said his mother. "Is she already there?" asked Chris sighing." Yes, she’s already here, with her daughter, so be nice and come now." Demands her mother.
Chris gets up and Nate follows him, they go outside where, his head car is parked. Chris hugs his aunt and takes boxes, Nate only says hello and helps her carry her boxes.
Nate poses where he needs to, he goes back out when he crosses a small head out of the bathroom.
Nate looks at the girl and he feels something, he doesn’t move me and she doesn’t either. He looks at the girl.
She is small, her hair is black braided, long eyelashes that put her brown hazelnut eyes in values , black skin but which shone thanks to the passage of the sunset in the long corridor. Nate begins to detail her body, she has beautiful boobs, a slim waist and beautiful hips that enhance her legs.
She’s wearing a Brazil jersey with black shorts, a cyclist? He doesn’t know, but anyway, this girl makes him feel what no other girl has ever made him feel not even Maddy.
"Y/N" says Chris enthusiastically. Y/N looks at Nate looking away at Chris. "Did you miss me?" she asks trotting towards him.
Chris laughs and hugs her. Nate remains in his thoughts for a short time.
______________________________________________
Nate learned a lot about Y/N. She’s her age, she likes to read, write and fine art, she doesn’t have a boyfriend and something that makes Nate want to have her, in two weeks, they’ll share the same campus.
They go to the same college, she looks so pure and kind, Nate intends to make sure that she lives only by him.
Nate falls in love every time she talks to him and that’s a big problem for our football star.
Especially when Y/N won’t just attract his attention.
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[PART 2]
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#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#dark rafe cameron#outer banks rafe#drew starkey x reader#dark!rafe#rafe imagine#football player!rafe#frat boy#frat!rafe#rafe smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe fanfiction#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks x reader#obx fic#nate jacob’s smut#nate jacobs#toxic relationship#toxic!nate#euphoria x reader#euphoria#jacob elordi x reader#Spotify
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Smokin’
Eddie Munson x Reader (18+)
Summary: (reader smokes weed with her crush Eddie, lowered inhibitions lead to shared secrets, smut ensues)
Word Count: 5.8k
Content: she/her pronouns, drugs (don’t do drugs, kids), some cursing, sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise during sex, pet names (princess, baby, sweet thing), loss of virginity (reader’s)
Minors DNI pls !!!
Part 2
*~*~*
All she could focus on was the ticking of the clock, digging deeper into her psyche and driving her absolutely crazy that class was not over yet. She wasn’t a bad student, in fact, she did very well in her English class, but right now all she could think about was meeting Eddie out by the abandoned wooden table in the woods, just far enough from the school so nobody would bother them. She was downright jonesing for some of that za.
It didn’t hurt that she had had a crush on the school freak for a while. They shared the senior Calculus class, and if it wasn’t for her letting him brazenly cheat off of all of her work, he wouldn’t even be passing. In the period before her English—the Calculus class—she had slid a note to Eddie that read, Woods after last period? He answered with a subtle nod, and that was that. They had plans to make a sweet deal.
The bell rang, and she scooped up her bag and almost ran out of the classroom, jump-scaring a few peers as she zoomed past them still in their seats. She slipped through the halls towards the exit, darting past all of the high school trope groups and the group-less people who were getting excited for the weekend.
It was a sunny day outside with small fluffy clouds, but still a briskness to the air, making her realize she had left her sweater in her English class in her rush. Well, she thought, I guess it’ll be in the lost and found on Monday.
She snuck past the track field, managing to stay unnoticed by all of the students leaving the school at the same time. Trudging through the forest, she made a game of it to make as little sound as she could, staring at her feet and avoiding twigs and leaves that looked particularly crunchy. She almost won the game in her head, just about to make it to the wooden table...
She hit something sturdy, immediately bouncing backwards and landing hard on her ass. “Ow,” she reacted, then looking up to meet the eyes of the man, the myth, the legend. Eddie Munson.
“Sorry, was I in your way?” he joked, extending out an arm to help her up off of the ground. She accepted it, taking his hand and feeling him yank her up with such ease that it gave her a small headrush coming up so fast.
“Sorry, I was looking at the ground,” she mumbled, following him to join him at the table.
“Yeah, I noticed you do that,” he said. Even when he didn’t mean to, everything he said sounded like flirting, and it only made her more nervous around him. He sat across from her, opening his box and keeping its contents out of view of her. “So... same as usual?”
“Mmm, I think I want more this time. How much can I get for thirty-five?” she asked, pulling a crumpled wad of cash out of her jeans pocket.
“Woah, that’s a lot. You trying to stave off our little visits?” he jokingly asked, although the fastest little glint of sadness shone in his big brown eyes.
“Oh, no, you know these are the highlights of my week,” she mused back, flashing a cheeky grin that had him smiling back immediately. He pulled a bag of bud out of his box, and it was a lot; her eyes were glued to the hefty amount of weed in the plastic bag. She could feel his stare burning her skin as she struggled to meet eyes again. “How much would I have to pay you to roll for me? I’m just not as good at it as you are.”
“Princess, you know flattery is the way to my heart,” he openly flirted, “For you? I’d roll your whole bag for free. Only price is that you’d have to pick up your goods from me later at my place, it’s gonna take some time to roll all of this up.”
The pet name caused her cheeks to burn, and he must have noticed the effect that that had on her because his grin turned deviously large. She managed to stutter out, “Y-yeah, that’d be c-cool.”
“C-cool?” he mocked, eating up her nervousness and having it boost his confidence. “Don’t tell me you're clamming up on me, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes, releasing her tension with a breathy chuckle. “Don’t play dumb with me, Munson, you know you’re hot,” she joked, hoping he would drop the subject of her anxiety if she called out the reason for it.
“You think I’m hot?” he asked. His tone had changed from his usual flirtatiousness to actual intrigue. She dropped the cash on the table in front of him, hoping to escape the mess she had created.
“So, where do you live? And when do you want me to meet you there?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a look that said, So, we’re just gonna skip over what you just admitted? Her unmoving stare answered his question and he moved on, taking her money off of the table and answering her with, “The trailer park. I’m the big silver one. Van outside. You’ll know it when you see it. And... how about nine?”
“Nine’s good,” she uttered, swiftly turning away from the table and taking off in a blushing rush, tucking her hair behind her ears as she power-walked away from the table as fast as she could.
“Alright, see you at nine, princess!” she heard Eddie call from behind.
*~*~*
Nine p.m. had finally rolled around, and she managed to find his trailer in the trailer park. She recognized his van, sweeping her fingers along the side of it as she made her way to his front door. Or, the only door of his trailer.
Admittedly, she had gotten a little dolled up. She didn’t change her outfit, for that would have been way too obvious, but she did add a touch of makeup, just enough to make her eyes pop in the way she likes and make her lip look extra kissable.
Taking in a deep breath, she knocked softly on the door three times. The third knock was cut off by the door swinging open and Eddie’s tall figure stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey there, sweet thing, you come here often?” he flirted, tilting his head to the side and looking her up and down obnoxiously. The exaggeration of his attempt at flirting drew a giggle out of her, rewarding Eddie with a sense of satisfaction at making her laugh.
“Got the goods?” she asked, taking a step towards the door, and he moved out of her way to let her in. She scanned over the piles of cassettes and VHS tapes, noting his abundance of horror movies and metal music, which she had expected. The smell of cigarettes and dust lingered in the air, which she didn’t mind at all. She’d never admit it because of all the medical propaganda her family dumped on her, but she thought it was cool that he smoked cigarettes. She had seen him lighting up a few times before in his van while leaving school, and she just couldn’t deny what seeing that little stick hanging from his lips did to her.
“Yeah, uh, sorry about the mess,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. She had never seen him be bashful before, and heart did a little leap as she had found it endearing.
“It’s fine, Eddie. I can promise my bedroom is much worse,” she joked, still looking around his trailer. She hadn’t realized it, but he noticed that that was the first time she had ever referred to him as Eddie. To everyone but his club, he was always Munson, always the freak. His heart did a leap too in that moment.
“Oh! I got your goods in here,” he said, dipping away to fetch the baggie of joints he had pre-rolled for her. Damn, he was right. That was a lot of joints. She stared at the bag in awe.
Being in his home must have given her a small sense of confidence, because she proceeded to nervously ask him, “Um... if it’s not too much to ask, would you like to smoke one with me...?”
He stared at her with an indecipherable expression. She couldn’t tell if he was deciding for or against smoking with her, and she broke eye contact and looked down as a nervous habit. She started to backtrack, “Y-you don’t have to, I just—”
“Fuck, yeah. I’d love to.” He dropped a big dimply grin, infecting her with the giggles.
He opened the bag and pulled one of the neatly rolled joints out before zipping it closed and passing it back to her. She put the baggie of joints in her bag quickly, pulling out her own small bright blue handheld lighter. She gave the lighter to Eddie before mentioning, “Don’t forget to give that back, it’s my only lighter.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he answered smugly before extending an arm in a silent invitation to sit on the couch, and she obliged. She sank down on the old couch, and it felt more comfortable than her own couch at home. He plopped down next to her hard, rocking her and the couch, before holding the joint out for her to take. “You go first,” he said, tilting his head down to look at her with a devilish grin.
“Gladly,” she said, leaning forward and catching the end of the joint on her lips, taking it from him without using her hands. “Light me up?” she asked through the joint on her lips.
“Gladly,” he returned, using her wording against her. He held the little blue lighter to the end of the joint, flicking the gear and igniting it. She hovered over the flame for a moment before pulling back to breathe it in, puffing on the joint heavily before Eddie swiftly grabbed it from her lips.
The burn in her lungs felt like a warm tingle spreading through the inside of her chest, but it was the burn in her throat that made her cough. She coughed an embarrassing amount, her face and eyes turning red from it. “Hey, it’s supposed to be puff puff pass,” she whined in a manner that conveyed she wasn’t serious, but her mangled voice was what made Eddie laugh.
He gave a dark chuckle before saying, “Like you’d say no to me, sweetheart.” He held her gaze intensely as he hit the joint, taking in a deep puff before letting out a billowing cloud of smoke, blowing the smoke into her face teasingly. She laughed at his gesture, waving away the cloud.
After they had gone back and forth, taking turns of the joint until it was just a roach, she put the roach down on the ashtray on his coffee table. Eddie had some of his music playing as they were both leaning back against the couch, heads staring at the ceiling as they felt the weed kick in.
She began to feel fuzzy, her body feeling so heavy like it was sinking further into the couch. She let out a light stoner laugh as she felt the tingles spread down to her fingertips and toes, feeling her brain swirl around like the room was spinning. The voice of her consciousness sounded out loud, and her speaking voice sounded too quiet like it was in her head. But her absolute favorite part of getting high was the sense that she truly had no other care in the world, just bliss and fuzziness and oversaturated colors. It felt like peace.
“This shit fucks so hard, Eddie,” she said, her brain confused to if she even said those words aloud.
She lazily tilted her head towards him, watching with heavy eyes as he stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help but stare. It was definitely the weed heightening this thought, but she couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was. His big brown eyes with the long eyelashes, his dimples that suited his cheeks so well, his sharp jaw and strong chin, and oh, those plump, kissable lips.
“Eddie...?” she whispered, pulling his gaze from the ceiling to her.
“Yeah, princess?”
His eyes were so red. She would have laughed if she wasn’t about to say, “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”
He laughed slower than usual, so she could tell he was deep in his high like she was. Their conversation felt like it was happening underwater, and his voice tickled her ears as he replied, “Damn it, babe, I was supposed to call you pretty first.”
She felt the laughter bubble in her chest first, slowly erupting from her mouth, her brain feeling disconnected from the process. “Beat you to it. Sucks to suck, Munson.”
His eyes drooped, and he glanced at her lips before looking back into her eyes. “You are, y’know. Pretty.”
She looked away out of habit before giving a huff. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” he said, turning his body so he was facing her. “I was surprised you even wanted to smoke with me. Hell, I’m surprised you even wanted to buy from me. The cute girl in my Calculus class wanted to buy from me? How did I get so lucky?”
She turned her body so she was facing him, leaning her swirling head against the couch. Her eyeballs felt fuzzy as she looked up at him with doe eyes. “You think I’m the cute girl in class? You dummy, I think you’re the cute boy in class. Why do you think I let you cheat off of my work?”
His eyes stared deeply into hers, and he glanced at her lips briefly again. This time, she returned the favor by glancing at his. She felt her heart racing in her chest, every thump echoed through her body until her extremities felt numb. He placed his large hand on the side of her face, and the coolness of the rings were like a shock to her as he swiped over her lips with his thumb. His touch felt electrifying, as if every nerve cell in her body was magnetized to his skin. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, in the softest tone she had ever heard from his lips.
“You fucking better,” she joked and was immediately pulled in. When their lips met, it felt like fireworks were going off inside of her. Tingles shot up the back of her neck and crept up the base of her skull, capturing her in pure bliss as Eddie’s lips melted into her own. She could taste the weed and hint of cigarettes in his mouth, and she could hear the heavy breathing from his nose against her face. It was all she ever dreamed of, plus some. She had never enjoyed kissing other boys, mushing mouths always felt so awkward and unnatural. But with Eddie, now, all she wanted was to feel the soft fleshy wet mess of tongue against tongue. Her heightened sensations from the weed mixed with her established crush on Eddie had her already giving out soft moans into his mouth, and she could just feel him smile against her mouth in return. She felt his big warm hands place themselves on her waist, and she leaned in further, pressing her chest against his.
She didn’t even feel when her hands had moved to grip his Hellfire Club shirt until he pulled back. “Damn, why have we never done this before?” he said in a deep husky voice.
“Because I get nervous,” she said, feeling the words spill out before she had time to think of a proper response. She looked down and fiddled with the neckline of his shirt before saying, “And because this weed’s got me feeling brave, Eddie.”
“Just how brave are we talking?” he asked, thinking she wouldn’t notice his quick glance down at her body. She did notice. In that moment, her body felt hot to the touch, and then the weed did something it had never done before. Maybe she had just never been horny and high at the same time, but the way the pot in her system sent her body into maximum overdrive at the way Eddie eyed her body had her throbbing hard in her jeans. Her nerves were ablaze everywhere, especially there, and she could just feel her underwear becoming increasingly more damp the longer she stared at him.
“Really brave,” she muttered, unable to speak above a whisper due to the intense craving her body was feeling. He flashed that dimply grin like he knew she couldn’t resist it and moved his hands to cup her face. She let her neck go lax, melting into his touch and letting him hold the weight of her head. His hands felt so hot against her face, and then he leaned in so close that his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.
“You ever fucked a future rockstar?” he inquired, his eyes looking darker and deeper than ever.
A chill ran down her spine at his words, and a let out a shaky exhale before admitting, “I’ve haven’t ever fucked.”
He immediately dropped his charismatic persona, pulling back with a look of concern in his eyes. “I’d offer, but I don’t think it would be right to... deflower you... in such a state...” He began to trail off, but she put a finger to his lips.
“Eddie, right now, I’ve never wanted anything else so god damn bad,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of his perfect plump lips. “Only reason I never have is because I’ve never liked anyone else this much.”
She watched as his lips morphed from a concerned flat line back into that devilish smile she liked to see so much. It infected her, making her smile wide as well, and the tip of her finger felt like it was buzzing as she traced along his smiling lips with her finger. The underwater feeling returned as she leaned up to bring his lips back into a kiss, laying back on the couch and pulling him down with her so that he was laying on top of her and kissing her.
“Damn, you really do get brave when you smoke,” he chuckled, and the deep chuckle rumbled in her ears as she caught his lips again, opening her mouth to invite him into hers. His tongue slid across hers, feeling hot and slimy, and she loved it, returning the gesture. She felt him slowly drop all of his body weight onto hers, and the pressure against her lower abdomen caused her to let out a small gasp into his mouth. He felt her gasp, taking a sense of pride in being the one to make her feel this way and pressed himself against her again, feeling his own excitement start to build.
She spread her knees apart, allowing him to lay between her legs, and he willingly obliged to taking the position, sliding his denim-clad crotch against hers. The friction of him pressing the seam of her jeans into her elicited the smallest moan from her, and Eddie repeated this against but harder, fulling grinding into her as their mouths danced and his clothed erection rubbed against her. Her fingers found their way into his long hair, her nails accidentally scratching against his scalp, making him groan into her mouth. The sounds and feelings that he was giving her welded together in a fuzzy entanglement, making her already spinning head feel like she was on air. She felt his warm hands snake down from her face down to the hem of her shirt, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric to brush against her hot skin. The sudden coldness of the rings made her slightly jump, and he pulled back, worry apparent on his face. His eyes nonverbally asked, Is this too much?
“Sorry, your rings are just cold,” she giggled, before taking the initiative to lift her own shirt over her head, revealing the black bra underneath. Truth be told, after school she had switched into her fancier undergarments in the hopes that something would happen between them. And she was appreciative to her past self for making that decision. He stared in awe at her chest, all pushed together by the tight black bra and looking extra plump in the dim trailer lighting. He took the chance to bury his face in her cleavage, sucking and smacking on the soft flesh, leaving little reddish purple spots in his wake, causing her to moan and lightly buck her hips up. She was already turned on, but now she just felt like an animal in heat, all wet and needy for him. He pulled a nipple out of its bra cup and took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue softly on the hardened bud, and she felt waves of tingles flow through her body, half from the high and half from the pleasure he was bringing her just from sucking on her naked skin. When she had gripped his hair so hard she was worried she’d accidentally yank it out, he grinned against her soft skin, just knowing how he was affecting her untouched body.
“That feel good, princess?” he whispered, releasing her nipple from his mouth, pulling back to look in her eyes. He had never seen her, or anyone, look so desperate and needy. Hell, she would have begged if he told her to. She looked up at him with pleading doe eyes, and he just melted at the sight. “C’mon, baby, use your words.” His deep voice dripped like honey into her ears, and she felt the shift in her core that made her need some friction down there.
She whispered back, “Please keep touching me.”
He chuckled and with a teasing voice said, “Oh, baby, you think that is me touching you? You don’t even know.”
He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pulling them down her thighs until she lifted her legs above his head so that he could pull them off of her calves. He threw the jeans on the floor next to her shirt, keeping her legs up with his hands. She didn’t realize she was panting as he slid his hands down her legs, letting them drop on either side of him while he gazed tenderly at her damp panties.
“Already so wet for me, baby? That’s so sweet of you,” he teased, hooking his finger under the wet patch and pulling her underwear to the side. She gawked at him unabashedly as he swiped his fingers up her wet slit, his fingers feeling cold against her heat. She whimpered at the cold sensation, accidentally bucking her hips. The high had left her brain and traveled south, making her body feel abuzz as he rubbed up and down her slit a couple of times, barely grazing the sensitive nub at the top.
“God, you’re so hot,” she heard him say, but her eyes screwed shut at the sensation of her throbbing cunt being touched so gently. When she felt a finger prod her hole, she gasped, letting him know she was very ready to be entered. A thick finger entered her, and she moaned loudly as he pushed his finger all the way in, his thumb still rubbing up and down. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in his finger, choosing to add a second one. The second finger made her feel the slight stretch, and she moaned louder at the sensation. He started pumping his fingers in and out of her, starting a new building sensation in her core. The faster he pumped, the more he bumped that sensitive nub with his thumb, and that feeling inside of her felt like something deep was about to explode. She unashamedly rutted her hips against his hand, letting out more whimpers and moans than she ever had before in her life. And just as she teetered the edge of that sinfully delicious explosion, he stopped completely, pulling his fingers out of her and leaving her a panting, soaking mess.
Her throat hitched, releasing an audible whine, making Eddie laugh. He leaned over her, his painfully hard but fully covered erection hovering over her sopping heat, and said, “Now see, baby, that was me touching you.”
She was speechless and desperate, needing any sort of attention back on her tingling loins. “Will you please fuck me?” she timidly asked, relinquishing any morsel of control she had and completely throwing the ball in his court.
“Of course, princess,” he said with a wink. He paused to sit up and look around the small living room of the trailer before declaring, “But not here.”
“Not here?” she breathed out.
“C’mere, we’re going to my room,” he said, lifting himself quickly off of the couch before turning around to swoop down and suddenly lift her off of the cozy furniture, bridal-style. She reveled in the romance of it all, feeling most definitely like a princess with her handsome knight in shining armor, freely laughing as he carried her to his little room.
Eddie’s bedroom smelled a lot more like weed than his living room, and she could guess where he smoked most of the time. Metal and rock posters lined the walls, and towers of cassettes, books, and VHS tapes littered the floor.
He ducked down to lay her down gently on the bed before yanking his Hellfire club shirt over his head quickly and tossing it on a pile of discarded clothes on the floor. She stared at his bare torso, admiring his tattoos, and he just ate it up. He smiled before dropping himself down on the bed over her. “You ready for more, sweetheart?”
"Yes,” she blurted out with zero hesitation, eagerly nodding and eyeing the tent in his jeans hungrily. He followed her line of sight, smirking to himself when he realized she was staring straight at his boner. He leaned back, looking down to undo his jeans before he shimmied them off, letting the tent in his boxers swing free, before throwing his jeans onto the pile of clothes to join his shirt. He then resumed his place, crawling over her as she laid back on his bed, his clothed erection grazing her legs and then her abdomen as he climbed up her body. Using his forearms to hover over her, she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him into a steamy kiss. As their mouths meshed together again, he steadily lowered himself so that their half-naked bodies were flush against each other, and she could feel his stiffness nestle right into the crotch of her panties, making her let out a shaky breath.
He slithered his large hands down her body before reaching her underwear, hooking his fingers into the sides before pulling from the kiss to ask, “Can I take these off?”
“Only if you say please,” she joked, mentally slapping herself for choosing this moment to toss in a joke. But, like the good sport he was, Eddie was quick to respond.
“Please, oh please, may I take thy panties off?” he mused back, but looked confounded when he saw her flinch. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re very hot, Eddie, but please don’t use the word panties. It just feels so weird when guys say it.”
“Panties.”
“Eddie, I’m serious. It feels icky.”
“Panties.”
“Dude!”
“Panties!” he yelled, waving his hands in her face and laughing hard at the cringing expression on her face. She couldn’t help but join in his laugh, being able to look at their conversation in a different light, and seeing how ridiculous they sounded.
She sighed, shaking her head in an endeared manner as she said, “Fine. Thou may remove mine panties,” returning the joke of Old English speak.
He gave an exaggerated groan and said, “God, you’d do so well in DnD. That’s so hot.”
“Ist thou removing mine panties, or what?” she asked flatly, hoping to get back on track to their sexual shenanigans.
“Oh! Right, yes,” he said before theatrically yanking down her underwear and tossing them over his shoulder. All of the laughing and giggling stopped when he laid eyes on her sopping cunt. She could just see his erection strain against the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled them down, letting his boner spring free, and his length slapped against her thigh. She hadn’t expected it, but the boy was hung. She gawked at his long extremity, and he let her, taking pride in her jaw dropping. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled when he asked, “You ready?”
“Mhm,” she mumbled before wrapping her hand around his member, but he put his hand over hers to stop her, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Woah, wait, do we need a condom?” he asked, gingerly stroking his thumb over her hand.
She shook her head, “I’m on the pill, Eddie.”
He grinned in response, before taking the reins to line the tip up to her still-soaking entrance. When he started to push in, she felt the swirling feeling coming back to her head, and she couldn’t tell if she was still so high or if this was a new feeling, being already cock-drunk on Eddie. The stretch of him felt sharp for a moment, but she felt too blissful to react to it, pulling his head down to attach her lips to his once more. Their mouths hung open against each other’s as he fully sheathed himself in her, and this time she did let a small whimper of pain escape. Her pain immediately dissolved into pleasure as she adjusted to his size.
When he began to move inside of her, starting slow as he pulled out and pushed back in ever so gently, she was still a moaning mess, moaning against his open mouth.
“That feel good, baby?” he asked, and his words had never felt so sugary sweet. All she could do was moan in response, her moan raising in pitch as it caught in her throat. He broke their kiss to watch her face, her expression conveying euphoria as he slid in and out of her. Her tight walls felt so good on his cock; he would have finished then and there if he wasn’t so focused on her. He snuck a hand down between their bodies, searching for her sensitive little nub, and once he found it and began drawing small circles around it with his finger, she could feel that building sensation return. And he could tell from her moans getting progressively louder. He wanted her first time to be everything she could have wished for, so he started to pick up his pace and thrusted harder and faster into her, keeping his finger steady on her clit.
Sparks were shooting through her body, centered around her lower abdomen, and she wrapped her legs around Eddie to keep him closer, even though she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. The steady circling around her clit became sloppy as he let himself pound into her hard, and she felt his member reach impossible depths inside of her. The faster and harder pace of his cock sliding in and out of her, stretching her from the inside out, had her digging her nails hard into Eddie’s shoulder blades as she felt her hips begin to chase that tension building in her. She let herself get lost in the pleasure of it all, the tingles in her brain all the way down to her fingers and toes mixed with the waves of pleasure coming from her abdomen had her toes curling and her eyes squeezed shut. She felt her walls begin to squeeze tighter as the tension inside of her began to reach its peak, like a string about to snap.
She suddenly felt her face being grabbed by a strong hand, her jaw entirely encapsulated. “Look at me,” his voice demanded, and she opened her eyes pitifully, giving him the eye contact he wanted. Eddie had always been so silly, such a tease. It was shocking yet so deeply arousing to hear such sternness in his voice. “I wanna see it in your face when I make you come.”
“Eddie,” she whimpered, “I think I’m gonna—”
“I know, baby, I can feel it. Be a good girl and come for me.”
And with his words, that string inside of her snapped, and she let out a squealing moan as she experienced her orgasm in waves, feeling her walls pulsate and stretch over his cock while her body went completely lax. He continued to pound through it all, letting out aggressive grunts as he thrusted through the clenching of her walls, giving her continuous echoes of her orgasm until his pace stuttered. He released a gentle moan with his own release, prolonging it with extra pushes into her until he felt his own hot liquid seep out of her tight hole that was clenched around his member. He pulled out slowly, and she whined at the sudden emptiness inside of her.
“God damn,” he huffed with a tired smile before dropping his body onto hers, burying his face in her naked chest. She giggled at this, playing with his hair and scratching her nails over his scalp.
They stayed like that for a good long moment, basking in their post-coital bliss, until she noticed the clock next his bed. She read the time with a gasp. “Oh my god, it’s like three in the morning! Shit, I gotta get home.”
They climbed out of Eddie’s bed reluctantly, gathering their clothes from his bedroom floor and from the living room floor. They hadn’t spoken a word yet, both too nervous to wreck the good thing they had going, until Eddie couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Okay, so... I guess I’ll see you on Monday?” he asked, not sure of what to say but wanting to desperately to beg to spend more time with her.
“Yeah,” she shrugged, before pausing a long moment to suggest, “or we could hang out like tomorrow, or technically later today... Uh, if you’re not busy...”
He absolutely beamed at her words. She did want to spend more time with him. He felt excitement blossom in his chest as their little situation felt like the beginning of something special. “Tomorrow—er, later today—would be awesome.”
She let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. “Cool.”
“Cool,” he repeated back to her. They fell into silence again, but it was comfortable silence this time.
“I, uh,” she began, gesturing to the door.
“Oh! Yes, of course,” he said, stepping out of her way and opening the door for her. When he opened the door, the cold night air hit her like a ton of bricks and she shivered, regretting leaving her sweater in class earlier that day.
He witnessed her slight shiver, instantly saying, “Wait right here,” before dipping away to grab something from his bedroom. He came back with his iconic denim and leather jacket, offering it to her. “It’s really cold out tonight,” he shrugged, like giving her his jacket was no big deal.
“I can’t take your jacket,” she said, attempting to politely decline.
He hung it on her shoulders and said, “Well, you can give it back later,” both as a way to make her more comfortable but also as a way to express that he hopes she sticks to their plans.
“Okay,” she breathed, “and you’ll have to give back my lighter.”
And with that, she was on her way home with plans to see Eddie tomorrow.
*~*~*
A/N: my first Eddie fic !!! Part of me wants to do a part 2 so bad, but pls let me know how u feel about it omg <3 lov u guys
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carlos‘ song - cs55
pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader
summary: you wrote a song about carlos
word count: 1.2k
warnings: angst, mentions of death, anxiety, sad stuff
note: i have been obsessed with carlo‘s song lately and i just had to write something for carlos, bc obv carlo‘s - carlos
masterlist / taglist
Standing on the rooftop of this bar in Madrid, your short hair blew in the cold air. Apparently it’s not just any bar, the bar is placed on a fire tower.
The sun was just about to set and you tried to keep your hair under control. „You know, I liked it more when it was long.“ Carlos looked at you with his big brown round eyes and it reminded you of a deer caught in a headlight.
„Oh really?“, you grinned. When you two first met you were only 12 years old, little best friend of Isa. You never taught you would one day stay on this roof top with her brother.
„Yeah, do you remember drinking in the parking lot? By the trail head? Yeah, I liked your hair that day.“
You felt heat rush to your head, you blamed it on the cold. „Okay, I can grow it out long, if you’d like that?“
You only just moved back to Madrid. Ida was supposed to pick you up from the airport but instead there stood a bright red Ferrari with not Isa but her brother Carlos instead. And he didn’t take you to his sisters, no he treated you to a drink on the fire tower.
Only the good die young was playing on the speakers.
„You know, I never understood what Billy Joel meant with those lyrics“, you thought out loud. „Didn’t you just study english literature?“ - „Yeah, and?“ Your eyebrows raised at him, silently questioning his thoughts.
„Like, aren’t you just supposed to know what he meant with his lyrics?“
„I mean, I have my own meaning, but it’s ridiculous.“ - „No, please tell me, because I always laugh at the lyrics“, Carlos said.
„I mean, obviously in the first verse he wants to have sex with virgin catholic girls. And ‚only the good die young‘ you can argue about that - young people who die didn’t deserve it, therefore they were good. Or old people aren’t good anymore, or many more.“
„Not ridiculous“, he smiled. „Huh?“ - „Your meaning of the song isn’t ridiculous, not in the slightest.“
You smiled, hard. Carlos was an interesting man and you wondered what more grew under that perfect skin of his.
„I think we are going to be good friends, Carlos“, you told him. „You think so?“, was his answer. You nodded and grinned at him.
Over the time you grew closer together, Carlos showed you parts of Madrid you only remembered vaguely from your childhood. But the distance of his job hurt more and more. You knew what a relationship with him meant. You knew only too good, heard Isa over the phone crying over missing her brother.
But the days he spent in between were the best you ever experienced.
„I want a big house out in the open. Where the sun always shines and all the light gets into the house!“, Carlos gushed. You were laying on the couch together and planned how your future would look like if money didn’t matter - not that it did anyway.
„Whys that?“, you asked him. „I don’t like the way my skin feels when it’s not shown on by the sun. I like the warmth, never liked the cold, brrr“, his arms snaked around your upper body and shook it like you were freezing.
Your laugh was heard throughout the apartment. Carlos grinned at you, his skin warming with the sound of your happiness.
„Why don’t you like the way your skin feels without the sun?“
„It makes me feel like I need to escape my own body. Like I don’t belong, it just feels wrong.“
„Well I hope you can escape your skin with me“, you smiled at the man you were falling more and more in love with.
But you still never went to a grand prix with him. And when he asked you why, you came up with a new excuse as not to.
You started to pick up more work, started to work over the weekends. You had less and less time to call Carlos over the weekend, making him question your feelings for him.
Until it happened. It happened on a Saturday at FP2. It was quickly over. You only heard about the incident the next day, as you wondered why Carlos didn’t start.
Isa called you. 48 seconds. That’s how long the phone call lasted. The news shattered your heart. Broken into millions of pieces. You couldn’t believe it, no, Isa was definitely playing pranks with you.
You fell, you fell deep into a hole. A hole you never knew you sighed it yourself. Deeper and deeper. Until Isa visited you. She brought you his clothes he still had at home. She brought his necklace that he was about to gift you. His initials graved into the back of the pendant.
But still, everyone who started talking about him being gone, you shut out. You shut them right out, because in your mind he was still alive, he was still racking and he was winning.
But the reality was none of that. And reality hit you, it hit you hard. His memorial was held at the end of the season. And Isa asked you to talk about him. You had to admit he was dead.
„I can’t do it, Isa.“ - „Please, you were his everything, he talked so much about you! Did you know he had been crushing on you since he was 16?“
„Did you set us up? The day you didn’t pick me up from the airport and instead sent him?“
Isa looked at you, just like Carlos had when he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have. This big brown eyes. Glistening with mischief - it was something that all of the Sainz family possessed.
„You caught me“, she shamelessly shrugged with her shoulders and smirked at you. „It was time? He was pining on you for so long, but you were away studying and he was so sad, I had to do it, it was his only chance!“
His memorial was beautiful, the whole grid present. Charles and Frédéric spoke about his time at Ferrari, Lando held a speech about their friendship and Isa sung a beautiful song. She still tried to convince you to speak, but you just couldn’t.
Isa and you still regularly talked to each other. She was doing good, better than her anyway. You almost never talked about Carlos. You weren’t bringing him up, neither did she.
The one thing Isa told you was: „Grief is just love letting go. It’s okay to let go.“
You almost cried - how could she say that like it was just spilled milk?
„Look at yourself, when’s the last time you cut your hair? You always kept it short, but now?“
You did visit him at his grave. Brought flowers and letters for him to read. Eventually you wrote a song. A song to remember him - Carlos‘ Song.
And one day you stood on a stage, at the bar they had their first date at and sung Carlos‘ Song.
Isa was there, smiling up at you and filming the whole thing. „I’m going to show it to my parents“, she smiled.
And you knew Carlos was smiling down on you and kept you alive.
°°°
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Aegon II Targaryen x niece!Innocent!reader and her reaction to the dinner scene. Like she’s completely in love with Aegon but also that’s her family and brothers and sisters??? 🤍🤍🤍
Strong
Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Reader
Next chapter: Strong pt.2
Warnings: Targcest, Explicit language, Some NSFW stuff but it's mild, Bit dark, Blood, Aegon gets his ass kicked -sorry, I'm in a weird mood for violence-
Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!
English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.
Additional info: Aegon and the reader are married, Viserys' failed attempt to make peace. Reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwin's oldest. A Stronk gworlllll✨
A/N: Wasn't sure what Anon meant by "innocent", so I'm taking it as the reader being a patient and understanding person. Till she snaps...muehehehhehe >:)
P.S. I might write a pt.2 to this one, if there's enough ppl interested in reading it. Pt2 will be closer to what Anon requested tho, so not as whatever tf this is
"Think before you speak" Alicent, his mother, told him once after her hand had collided with his face.
But in order to do so, Aegon first had to learn how to listen. He'd never liked listening to others. He saw no point in learning anything from them. Prince Aegon had his own ways of moving through life.
"If you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask." The Prince said as he made his way back to his seat.
From the corner of his eye, he could see his wife's pained expression. She didn't say anything, only stared down at her hands that were resting in her lap, fingers digging in. Angry tears threatening to spill from her dark brown eyes.
The woman made no move, even when her younger brother, Jace, slammed his hands on the table as he got up. All she did was shake her head from side to side, teeth clamping down on her tongue until she could taste the blood.
Not long after, music filled the room, expelling the silence. The Princess had turned to stare at her brother and aunt who were dancing, with a sad look on her face. The things she'd give to have Aegon offer his hand to her the way Jacaerys had done to Halaena. Instead, her husband was staring down the two, taking sip after sip from his cup.
────────────
Strong. Strong. Strong.
The word echoed in her head. She turned to look at Aegon, eyes urging him to do something. Say something. Anything.
The wolfish grin on his face said enough. He wouldn't stand up for her, wouldn't protect her from his brother's harsh, cruel words.
The Princess rose to her feet, muttering excuses as she walked past her brother and out of the room.
As she reached the door, a loud bang came from behind her. The woman turned around, a shocked gasp tearing through her bloodied lips. Aegon was holding Luke by the neck, pinning him down on the table. Aemond shoved Jace, the boy falling to the ground then quickly getting back up.
She used the moment to slip past the heavy doors.
────────────
She stared down at the burning logs in the fireplace, her grip on the book she was holding turning deadly as the doors flew open.
"Oh, how did you get here before me?" Aegon giggled as he made his way over to her, feet stumbling.
He was drunk. Again.
"I left hours ago." She sighed as she closed the book.
"You did?" The Prince let out a confused sound. "When?"
"Shortly before you slammed my brother's head into the table."
Aegon came to stand before her. He took the book from her hands and placed it on the table next to her. Then, ever so slowly, he sunk down to his knees, chin coming to rest on her leg.
"Well, the little twat deserved it." His finger went under the skirts of her dress, then trailed up. "Not my fault he doesn't know his place."
The woman squeezed her thighs together before his finger could go any further. She looked away from the man.
His brows furrowed, a look of puzzlement and slight hints of anger twisting his fine features.
"Are you angry with me, wife?"
She bit down on her tongue once more, blood gushing out of the fresh wound.
"No." The word came out as a whisper. "Just disappointed..."
His hands dissappeared from under her dress. Aegon grabbed her wrists with one hand, the other reaching for her face. Nails dug down as he turned her to look him in the eyes.
"Come again?" He hissed out, thumb rubbing over her bottom lip.
The woman pushed him away, Aegon falling on his back. Then she got up, leaving him to stare up at her in shock.
"First you offer your bed to my cousin, the one that is to marry my brother." She took a step towards him, Aegon crawling away. "Then your fucking brother insults me and my family in front of everyone."
Another step. Her tongue darted out of her mouth, licking away the blood that was trailing down her chin.
"You lay your filthy hands on my brother..." His back hit the wall. "...And now on me?"
Her knee met Aegon's face, blood splattering everywhere. The Prince sobered up fast. There was no anger left in him. Just fear. And desire. And lust.
"I am strong, husband." She said as she kicked him in the ribs, the man curling in a ball. "I am a Strong."
Aegon tried to hide his face, to hide himself from her.
But there was nowhere to hide. Not now. She'd been so patient with him. So understanding. She never demanded anything. Let him run around, chasing his whores. Let him drink himself stupid, then crawl into her bed. In her.
Her fingers ran through his silver-white hair. Then the hand formed into a fist. She pulled him up.
"Harwin Breakbones' blood runs through my veins. You know it just as well as I do." Aegon hissed, hands reaching for the one that had pulled him back on his knees. "Trust me, next time you do something like that..."
Aegon's ears started ringing. She'd slapped him. Hard. Harder than anyone had ever struck him before.
"...I will..." Followed by another slap. "...break..."
Aegon groaned as she pulled him up, so he could stand on his feet. Then she slammed the same hand she'd used to pull him, against his throat. The Prince's head smacked against the wall behind him. She squeezed.
"...each and every bone in your body."
With how close she was to him, Aegon could feel her breath fanning over his neck. He choked as her grip got bruisingly strong. Small white dots appearing in front of his eyes, hiding her angry face from him.
"Strip." The woman said. "That's why you came here in the first place, right?"
Two shaking hands reached for the clasps of his doublet. Aegon undid them quickly, letting the piece fall to the ground as he tried to unbutton his undershirt.
"You wish to act like a wild, uncivilized whore..." She pushed him away, tearing through the buttons of his silk tunic and making them fly out in all directions. "So be fucking it. You'll be treated as such."
A sound came from deep inside her chest. She was laughing. A low, short laugh. Her hands dropped back to her side.
"Not my fault you don't know your place..."
Then they went back up, to Aegon's breeches.
"But you'll learn."
#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii targaryen#hotd fanfic#hotd#house of the dragon#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon the second#prince aegon
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I'll come back to you
Major John "bucky" Egan x OC (Louise)
Part 1 / summary: bucky and his crew crash in an unknown place thinking it's Germany. Until they see a house with a French flag.
Warnings: injuries/historical inaccuracies/war
They were going down, bucky knew they wouldn't make it.
"Major, we have to jump. We can't stay in the plane, or we're gonna die with it!" Major Harry Crosby yells. Bucky knew he was right, and so did Luetinant Curtis Biddick.
They all jumped and abandoned the plane. They landed in what seemed like a wheat field. Except Bucky couldn't see any of the other passengers. He wondered if he was the only one who made it. That thought was cut short when he heard Curtis yelling, "Major! Major! Bucky!" He said whilst him and Harry were running up to him. "Tommy didn't jump in time, and Sheldon's parachute didn't work, so it's just us left." Harry informed him.
" I'm not sure where we are, and if we're in Germany, we're screwed." Bucky informed the men. "I'm not so sure we're in Germany. I don't think that's a German flag." Curtis said as he pointed to a house with a flag pole with the same colors as the American flag.
Bucky started slowly walking towards the farmhouse to get a better look. Once he got close enough, he realized they were in France! "It's a French flag! We're I'm france!" Bucky yelled and signaled the men to follow him.
They began running towards the house, not minding their injuries. Bucky hoped to use their phones, but knew it would be difficult to communicate.
Louise heard men yelling out side, she thought nothing of it, thinking it was her brother and his friends. But when her brother yelled at her to come downstairs. She came running. Her mother and father were at the door, and everyone went to the porch. Louise was standing behind her mother and brother as her dad stood there looking at the three men who were running.
As the men got closer, bucky noticed the family was on the porch. He saw a man and a woman and what looked like to be their son. He looked at their legs and noticed an extra pair, wearing low black heels.
They got in front of the family, out of breath from the running. All bucky could think about is the girl hiding behind them. He was taken out of his thoughts when he heard harry and Curtis trying to speak with them, but the family did not understand
"We need a phone! Hello!? Do you understand us!?" Harry said while getting mad and using his to make a phone shape. Bucky signaled him to calm down, as he did that the girl hiding stepped in front of her mother.
She had this brown hair that looked like hot chocolate or his coffee he drank in the morning on base. Her figure was small. She seemed a lot shorter than her brother. Her eyes were grassy green, and she had the most gorgeous freckles ever. He could stare at her all day.
Louise stepped out in front of her mother after hearing the American men try to speak to her father. Her father didn't understand English, he only knew French. Luckily for her, she knew English.
When she stepped in front of her mother, she noticed one of the men. He was taller than the other two men. He was wearing a torn up uniform, and his cap was gone. He had dark brown hair and a slight mustache. She had never seen anyone more handsome.
Even compared to all the boys that lived in the towns closest to her. No one compared.
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A Baker's Dozen - Ten
A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.
Hello!
I'm getting to the end of my twelve Pedro boys, only two more to visit the bakery after this one! I'll be sad to see them go, it's been a lot of fun writing all these meet cutes in the same setting and exploring their different voices and personalities. But it's not over yet, so please enjoy this sweetheart.
Your little bakery has two large windows out onto the street, and it gives you a good view of people walking by, especially when the bakery is quiet. This Friday morning you’re on your own in the shop, working on decorating a cake for a naming ceremony. Having an elaborate cake out on the counter, decorating it as people walk past, is good marketing you’ve realized. And it makes for excellent people watching as you straighten up from your hunched up position and stretch your back.
This morning, from the corner of your eye, as you put your arms over your head and crack your neck, you spot a man you’re sure you’ve already seen hanging around outside the window for some a while. He’s walked past a few times and now he’s nervously hovering around the front door, glancing in through the window. As you spot him, his face breaks into a bright smile, lighting up his eyes and he raises his hand in a wave. Pointing at the door he mouths ‘Can I come in?’, his face even brighter when you nod. It’s impossible to not smile back at him, you feel your mood lifting just as by him coming in through the front door.
“Hello, you are already open?” he asks as the door closes behind him and he comes up to the counter, still looking a bit uncertain but giving you a wide smile. There’s an accent to his voice, Italian you think, or maybe Spanish, and his caramel colored curls are perfectly swept back from his friendly face, perfectly matching the expensive looking red shirt he’s wearing.
“Officially not until eight, but since I’m here, you’re more than welcome in,” you smile at him and wipe your hands free from the icing you’re working with. He gives you a worried frown, half turning back to the door as if to leave.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, if you’re not open yet I won’t disturb you,” he says, “I don’t want to interrupt your beautiful work.”
“No, no, please come in, you’re not interrupting,” you say, waving him forward again, “I need a break, my hands get tired doing this for too long.”
You smile at him as he comes up to the counter and looks at the cake you’re working on, “What can I help you with?”
“I was intrigued by the decorations on the cake, they are real flowers?” he asks, pointing at the delicate daisy you’ve just attached to a section of the cake.
“No, they’re made with sugar,” you explain, “I make them separately and then attach them to the cake.”
“They look real to me,” he says with wide eyes as he leans forward and looks closer at the daisy chain trailing across the cake, “you’re a true artist, they are incredible.”
“Thank you,” you smile. You know your sugar flowers always impress people but you never tire of hearing it. The fiddly nature of the work makes them difficult to get just right and you’re proud of your ability to make them almost lifelike.
“I’m in town for a few days,” the man says, straightening up again and glancing over his shoulder out at the street, “A very boring conference for work, I wanted to take a walk before it starts up again, and I saw your…” he wrinkles his forehead, waving at the bread in the baskets behind you, “I forgot the word in English,” he says apologetically, “your breaderia? No, that doesn’t sound right…”
“My bakery,” you smile, “What language do you speak?”
“Spanish,” he replies, his bright brown eyes lighting up as he turns back to you, “It’s panadería in Spanish.”
“Oh, a breaderia!” you giggle, “That makes sense!”
“¿Hablas español?” he asks and you shake your head and hold up your thumb and finger half an inch apart.
“Un poco,” you reply, “I learnt some in high school but I forgot most of it, I only know panadería because well…” you laugh and wave your hand around the bakery and he laughs with you.
“I’m Javi, by the way,” he says, holding out his hand to you, but you hold your hand up and show him the sticky and colorful sugar stuck to them.
“Nice to meet you, Javi, but if I shake your hand I’ll make a mess. I need to go and clean up,” you say with a smile and nod towards the kitchen, “I’ll be right back, and then I can take your order, if you want to order something, that is.”
“Yes, please, I would love to try everything but I’ll try to choose only one thing,” he chuckles, scanning the display cases as you go back to the sink in the kitchen. When you come back out after a few minutes, Javi gives you an unhappy look.
“I can’t decide, everything looks too good, you are too talented for my stomach to make it’s mind up.”
You laugh and walk around the counter and stand next to him, “What’s your favorite flavor? Maybe I can help you narrow it down?”
“I love everything….” he says, “I was always very bad at deciding, when I was a child my cousin would get angry with me for taking too long and then he’d decide for me.”
“Did he pick what you liked at least?”
“No, he always picked what he liked so it was a very bad deal for me,” he looks up at you with a grin, “I’m sorry, I must sound like the most pathetic person, I assure you I can make my mind up,” he laughs.
“You don’t sound pathetic, Javi,” you smile, “but your cousin sounds impatient.”
“That he is…you have no idea,” he replies and turns back to the rows of baked goods with a shudder.
“The lemon meringue pie looks very nice, and the carrot cake too,” he mumbles, leaning forward and scanning the cakes again.”
“What’s your favorite?” you ask, “Maybe I have it, or something like it.”
“Hmm…” Javi hums, turning back to you and frowning as he considers your question, “I think…my absolute favorite is a small cake I’ve had in Paris many times, with vanilla and rum,” he says, “they’re called canelés, do you know them?”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never had them,” you say, shaking your head and Javi’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline in surprise.
“You’ve never had them? They are very delicious, caramel and almost crunchy on the outside, creamy vanilla and rum on the inside…” he trails off, the tip of his pink tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip as he salivates and you giggle.
“You look like you got caught in a daydream, they’re really that good?”
He nods and grins at you, “They really are, you should make them sometime, I know I would come and buy them all.”
“Do you know how to make them?” you ask and he shrugs, giving you a small smile.
“I tried a few times, following a YouTube video at home,” he says, “but I didn’t have the right thing to bake them in…and then I got distracted and…they burnt…” he gives you an embarrassed little grin, “I’m not a very good baker.”
“Now you've got me curious, Javi,” you laugh, “I need to find a recipe, come on,” you motion him to follow you back into the kitchen where you open your bookshelf, dropping down the desk to show off the rows of baking books neatly lined up. Javi trails in behind you, his smile widening as he sees your book collection.
“So many books on baking!” he exclaims, coming over to run his fingers along the spines as you look for a specific book.
“I have more at home,” you say, “these are mainly for more technical recipes that I need to reference. At home I have the ones I use for inspiration when I’m looking for something new to make.”
You grab a book on French baking and pull it off the shelf, “This one I think has a recipe on canelés.”
Javi comes to stand next to you as you place it on the desk and open the book’s index. You can smell his cologne as the warmth of his body radiates in the small space between you. He smells…expensive, a rich sandalwood scent laced with citrus and something sweet underneath that tugs at your memory as you inhale. Glancing up at him you’re met by warm brown eyes looking at you with curiosity and a small smile.
“You…you smell good, Javi,” you stutter out, “I just noticed.”
His smile curves up and he seems to shrug, shaking off the compliment, “Thank you, you smell good too, I was just thinking, you don’t smell like your bakery at all,” he says, a pink tinge creeping up his neck, “you smell like…” he purses his lips as he thinks for a second, “la toronja?”
“I don’t know what that is, but I hope it’s a nice smell,” you giggle and he laughs with a nod.
“I’m sorry, such a bad compliment when I can’t even tell you what it is,” he chuckles.
“Describe it to me then,” you say, “I’d like to know what it is.”
“Like an orange, but bigger, and not as sweet,” Javi says, holding up his hands to show you the size.
“Oh, a grapefruit?” you ask and he slaps his forehead.
“Ah! Yes, a grapefruit, I knew that,” he laughs, “you smell like grapefruit, it’s very nice, you smell very nice.”
“Thank you, it’s my body wash, it’s grapefruit scented” you smile back at him and then look down at the book again, flipping back to the index, “here, canelés,” you say and turn to the right page and Javi looks down too.
“Oh, they take three days to make,” you say, skimming the recipe, “the batter has to rest three days in the fridge before it can bake.” You glance back at the clock on the wall, in about half an hour your morning rush will begin, you won’t have time to make the batter now.
“I’ll have to make the batter this evening and then I can bake them on Monday, but I guess you won’t be in town then?”
Javi shrugs next to you, “I was thinking of staying and exploring the city a little while, I can stay until Monday.”
“Ok, then I’ll have them for you on Monday afternoon. If you want, we can try them together, fresh from the oven. I'd love to get your opinion on them since I’ve never had them before,” you smile and close the book and turn to go back into the shop.
Javi clears his throat nervously and stops you.
“I wonder,” he says, his hands twitching at his sides and he clamps them together in front of himself, “I wonder, if maybe, I can help you in the shop today?”
“You want to work in the shop?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up into your hairline as Javi gives you a small smile.
“Yes, it’s nice here, and…you seem very nice,” he says, the pink tinge creeping higher up his neck, “and I would like to learn more about baking and I thought, maybe I could…” he trails off, shaking his head, “never mind, it’s a stupid idea, why would you want me in your way all day. I’ll leave now,” he huffs, and walks past you, into the shop before you find your voice.
“Wait, Javi,” you call after him, hurrying into the shop, “Working in a bakery isn’t very exciting but if you really want to stay, of course you can. I won’t mind, I mean…I think you’re nice too.”
The smile Javi gives you is blinding, his face lights up as he comes back over to you.
“You’re sure? You won’t mind?”
“No, not at all, grab an apron in the back while I open the shop, the morning crowd is about to turn up,” you smile at him and he nods, giving you another excited smile before he grabs one of the clean aprons.
You flip the sign, put out your street sign and come back to Javi proudly standing behind the counter, but struggling a bit with the knot on his apron.
“Here, let me help you,” you say, “do the strap like this…” you reach up around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, “if you turn it like this it won’t slip.” With your hands around his neck, adjusting the strap, his soft curls brushing over your wrists as his eyes are on yours, you suddenly notice how still he’s standing, and how close he is. The warmth of him filters through your own apron and shirt, and you can see the rise and fall of his chest where his deep red shirt sits open just in front of your eyes.
“Thank you,” he mumbles softly and you look up at his eyes. He draws a small breath, holding it for a few seconds as your fingers smooth out the strap around his neck, before slowly exhaling and you watch his lips part.
When the bell above the door jingles, you jump apart as if fire suddenly erupted, and you quickly turn to the first customer. You immediately recognise the tight gray curls of Mrs Levinson, closing the door behind her and coming over to the counter.
“Good morning, Mrs Levinson, you’re early today,” you give her your bright customer service smile and beside you Javi mumbles a low ‘Good morning’.
“Good morning, dear,” the elderly lady says, “and who is this handsome man?” she winks at Javi who stutters over his reply.
“I’m J-Javi, I’m helping in the bakery today,” he gives Mrs Levinson a nervous smile, “What may I serve you today?”
“Oh, what a sweet boy,” Mrs Levinson smiles, “and you make such a beautiful couple.”
You raise your eyebrows and bite back a snort, next to you Javi seems to be choking on something.
“What can I get you, Mrs Levinson, the usual?” you ask, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back as he finds his composure again.
“I’d like a dark rye please dear, and six poppy seed bagels,” she replies, “and something sweet for my afternoon coffee too, I think.” She scans the selection and taps the glass, “Give me four of these Millionaire’s shortbread things. Mrs Morales is coming over and she wants to try something new.”
“Of course,” you say, grabbing a pair of tongs and handing them to Javi, “Put four of them in one of the small boxes, please, and I’ll get Mrs Levinson’s bread.”
Javi nods and does as instructed, putting the box of shortbread on the counter in front of Mrs Levinson with a bright smile.
“There you go, Mrs Levinson, anything else I may help you with?”
“No, thank you, my dear, that’s all for now, what do I owe you?”
You tally up the total on the till and help the old lady count out the money. As you hand her the change she takes a dollar bill and pushes it across the counter to Javi.
“Such a sweetheart,” she smiles at you, before taking her bag, “Make sure to hang on to him, he’s bound to bring you extra customers.” She gives Javi a wink and makes her way out of the shop. You barely hold your laughter inside until the door has closed behind her and you turn to Javi, who’s grinning widely with pink cheeks.
“Well, now you know Mrs Levinson,” you laugh and he chuckles.
“Now I know Mrs Levinson,” he nods, fanning himself with his hands, making you giggle at his expression, “Are all your customers so…forward?”
“Thankfully, no, only Mrs Levinson and her crew,” you grin, ”I hope she didn’t scare you off, do you still want to stay here today?”
“Yes, please, I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of being called a ‘sweetheart’ but nice old ladies,” he laughs and you giggle again.
“Alright then, I’ll let you handle all my elderly ladies, they’re going to love you, Javi,” you say, moving behind him to turn on the espresso machine, “Do you want a coffee?”
The day passes quickly with Javi’s company, even when the shop quietens down in the afternoon he keeps your mind occupied with questions about your favorite movies while you prepare the batter for the canéles. The bakery fills with the rich vanilla scent as you cut the pod and scrape the seeds into the batter.
“I can’t believe I never thought about that!” you exclaim as Javi laughs, “But you’re totally right, Indiana Jones only helped them find it faster, his actions have no real impact on the entire movie!”
“I had to rewatch ‘Raiders’ so many times to make sure,” Javi grins, “I couldn’t believe it either, but he really does nothing that stops them from getting the Ark.”
“So crazy, I can’t believe I never thought about that,” you say as you reach up to grab the rum bottle from your liquor storage.
“Santa Teresa,” Javi says, nodding his approval, “That’s what my father always drank, you’ve got good taste, and expensive rum.”
“Only the best for my cakes,” you smile, measuring out three tablespoons and one extra for luck. Behind you Javi is rummaging around, looking for something and he’s grinning when he comes up to you with two glasses.
“It’s too good to only go into cakes, let’s drink some, to celebrate my new career as a baker,” he says with a bright smile that makes it impossible to not smile back at him.
“A great idea, but I’ve got better glasses in the shop, follow me, and grab the bottle, Javi,” you say, taking his hand and pulling him with you back out to the shop.
“Here, these are better,” you say, handing him your nice glasses, “do the honors.”
You jump up on the counter as Javi pours the drinks, handing you a glass of the dark liquid and you take it, holding it up to him.
“To the best shop assistant I’ve ever had, with endless film knowledge, fantastic customer service skills and all around great guy.” You clink your glass with Javi’s and a pink blush creeps up his neck again as he takes a sip.
“Thanks,” he smiles, leaning on the counter on the other side, smacking his lips at the flavor of the dark rum, “I had fun, and now I know a lot about running a bakery.” He gives you another warm smile, lifting his glass in a salute to you again, and you both sip slowly, the rum sliding down smooth and warm into your chest.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at a conference today?” you ask, suddenly remembering that he’d mentioned something about it this morning when he first came in.
“Yes, but who cares?” he shrugs with a sheepish grin, “I’m sure no one will miss me, and this was much more enjoyable,” Javi gives you one of his warm smiles, his bright eyes softening as you smile back at him.
“Did you really like working here today?” you ask and he nods.
“Truly, I had more fun today than I’ve had at work in a long time,” he says, coming to stand next to you.
He’s so tall, almost level with you up on the counter as your eyes meet. You give him a small smile and he smiles back, a deep dimple in his cheek as he absentmindedly runs a hand through his soft curls, not as orderly now as they were this morning. A loose curl falls over his forehead and without thinking, you give in to the temptation you’ve been fighting all day, and reach forward to push it back again. Javi reaches up and catches your hand in his, pulling it down so that he can rub his thumb over your palm, his eyes locked on yours. The tip of his tongue comes out to wet his lips and the movement makes you look down at his lips, Javi takes a slow step closer, his fingers closing around your hand.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his soft voice the only sound in the shop as you look up at him again. There’s a heated look in his eyes suddenly, and as you nod, he bends his head to yours, his hand moving up and gently cupping your cheek.
The jingle of the bell pulls you apart, both of you looking at the door as Javi steps away from you.
“Mr Gutierrez, you’re needed back at the hotel.”
The man who’s stepped through the front door is dressed in a driver’s uniform and is looking somewhat exasperated with Javi behind the counter, “Your phone is off and your assistant has been trying to reach you all day.”
Javi looks back at you and flashes a guilty grin before he looks back at the driver.
“I’ll be right there, Marco, I’ve just been busy today.”
“Of course, sir,” the driver gives a curt nod and turns around, the door jingling again as he leaves.
“I’m sorry,” Javi says, turning back to you, his hand had slipped from your cheek as he stepped back, and you feel the loss of it as a warm imprint on your skin, “It seems I was missed at work after all. I would’ve liked to have stayed here longer, but I have to go.”
“Of course,” you say, feeling the disappointment creep up as Javi grabs his phone, “It was really nice having you here, Javi.”
He turns back to you with an uncertain small smile, holding his phone tight in his hand.
“Can I, I mean, if you want, I’d like to come back…on Monday. To finish the canelés,” he says, his eyebrows bunching up, looking at you with worried eyes.
“Yes, of course,” you say, excitement bubbling inside you as you see his smile creep back up and he takes a relieved gulp of air.
“Ok, great! Thank you!” he grins and glances out through the window at his driver who is looking at you both, before he turns back to you, “I’ll see you Monday, ok?”
“Monday, come by at noon, we’ll bake the canelés together,” you say, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek on impulse. His cologne from this morning still lingers, but it’s mixed with his warm sweat, coffee from a stain on his shirt, and something that must be his own comforting scent. For a split second you fight the urge to lean your head on his shoulder and rest your nose against the soft skin of his neck. Instead you pull back and meet his soft, brown eyes smiling at you.
“Get going, or your driver will yell at us,” you say, putting your hand on his arm, giving him a little nudge as he chuckles.
“Yeah, he can be a bit intimidating,” he says and walks around the counter, “Until Monday then.” He waves and disappears out through the door, and you watch as the driver stands to attention and opens the door to the back seat.
Javi flashes you a smile through the window before he disappears into the car, and you turn back to the kitchen to clean up.
You’re surprised to see Javi already waiting by the bakery when you turn up a quarter to twelve on Monday and flip on the lights inside. He’s sitting on the steps outside the front door, oblivious to you arriving through the back door, and it gives you an opportunity to study him as you walk across the shop. He runs his hand through his hair as you watch, the curls bouncing back and he lightly scratches at his neck before leaning his cheek in his hand. From behind you can see the saffron yellow shirt he’s wearing stretch tight across his broad shoulders, the bunched muscles a sharp contrast to the softness of his features.
You lightly tap the window in the door and Javi turns around, his face already bright as you give him a wave. Unlocking the door you let him in as he brushes down the seat of his pants.
“Hi,” you say, taking a step back to let him get past you before you lock up again, “You’re early, I hope you didn’t wait long.”
“Hi,” he replies, shaking his head, “No, just a few minutes, I was too eager so I left the hotel early and walked here.”
He’s standing in front of you, a small smile toying with the corner of his mouth and you’re suddenly reminded of where you’d been interrupted on Friday. Shyness takes over and you quickly take his hand.
“Come on, we’ve got baking to do,” you say as you pull him with you towards the kitchen, taking the chance to recompose yourself as he follows behind you.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all weekend,” you hear him muse, “And not only the canelés,” he adds as you step into the kitchen and let go of his hand, “I had a great time on Friday, I…I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again…if that’s ok to say?”
You turn back to him, he’s standing in the doorway into the kitchen, a small worry frown between his eyebrows as his fingers twitch nervously by his side, something he seems to do when he’s unsure of himself. You bite your bottom lip, trying to contain the smile that’s threatening to spill over as you look at Javi, taking a few tentative steps back towards him.
“I’ve been looking forward to it too, Javi,” you give him a shy smile, coming close enough to smell his fresh cologne, to see the smattering of golden freckles on his neck, as you look up at him. Javi sems to let out a deep rush of air, his shoulders sinking several inches, and smiles down at you.
“No driver this time, Javi,” you whisper, leaning closer and he mimics your movement.
“No driver,” he echos, and the warmth of his arm presses against your waist as he closes the last few inches between you. You can feel his thumb skim over your cheek when he cups your face, his soft tongue gently running across your lips until you part them, and let him in with a low sigh. His kisses are soft, gentle presses as you melt into him, his arm around your waist holding you close to his chest while your hand finds the curls at the nape of his neck. A low rumble comes from him, groaned into your mouth, as your fingers wrap around the soft strands and lightly tug him closer.
You hadn’t thought about what to expect from Javi’s kisses, but as soft and affable as he was, you’d never have expected him to kiss you like this. As his initial shyness retreats, his hand on you becomes firm, holding you up against him as he makes you moan into his mouth, pulling back just a fraction to catch his breath before he presses his lips against yours again. His tongue teases you as he nips on your bottom lip, finding news spots to explore. He groans into you as you wind your fingers around his soft strands of hair, returning his nips by gently biting down on his plush bottom lip and he rewards you with a downright sinful moan, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer.
You couldn’t say how much time passes, you catch your breath in small gasps between clamant kisses, heat rising between you, the pebbled skin on his neck looking almost too tempting as you pull back a little again. You run your fingertips over his skin, tracing down from his jaw, over his smattering of freckles, Javi shuddering under your touch as he opens his eyes and looks down at you with hooded lids.
“Even better than I imagined,” he mumbles, his eyes drifting closed again as you kiss a particularly sweet looking cluster of freckles on his throat, your tongue coming out to taste his skin.
“You too, Javi,” you whisper in reply, looking up at him and he opens his eyes again, smiling now in that soft way that makes you think of a sweet puppy, his dark brown eyes gentle and tender.
Running the pad of your index finger over his cushy bottom lip, giggling as he playful tries to nip at it, you smile back at him.
“Should we make those canelés maybe? They have to bake for about an hour,” you say, “We’ll have time for more of this,” and Javi nods, carefully untangling himself from you, his warm arm leaving your waist.
“I agree, let's make them quickly and then get back to this,” he grins, “Where is the batter? And what do you want me to do?”
You reach up and give him a quick kiss on the mouth, smiling at his eagerness, “First we need to grease the molds,” you say, pulling him with you towards the shelf full of different baking pans, “We need these, I got them over the weekend,” you take down six copper molds, “and beeswax.”
“Beeswax?” Javi asks, taking the molds from you as you open the fridge to get the wax.
“Yeah, traditionally they’re greased with beeswax to really caramelize the outside of the canelés and stop them from sticking,” you explain, unwrapping the small cube of food grade wax, “Wash your hands and I’ll show you how to do it.”
Melting together the butter and wax is quick work and then you show Javi how to brush the inside of the molds with the mixture as you fill up the ones he’s finished. The batter smells richly of rum and vanilla and Javi inhales deeply and leans down to kiss you.
“You are so clever, they smell delicious,” he hums, stealing another kiss, “and they’re not even baked yet.”
“Thank you, Javi,” you smile into his third kiss as he nips at your bottom lip again, “but they’ll be better baked, come on,” laughing you gently push him off you and he gives you a mischievous grin.
He helps you prep a tray and then you place the molds on it and put the whole thing in the oven, setting a timer. Javi pulls your back into his chest as soon as you close the oven door, his arms wrapping around your waist.
“Now, more time for this,” he mutters, dropping his chin onto your shoulder and pressing a kiss just under your ear.
“More time for this,” you mumble your agreement, turning your head so that the cool tip of his nose rests against your throat. You can feel his warm breath on your skin, the smell of the vanilla and rum in the kitchen, the low hum of the hot air oven and Javi’s lips as he moves them over your skin. It all blends together into a rosy haze, your eyes slipping closed as you reach up and caress his curls. Javi mumbles something in Spanish that you don’t catch, your brain going sluggish under the feeling of his wet mouth trailing over every inch of skin he can reach. Somewhere in the back of your head you’re wondering how you’ll be able to handle an hour of this and not end up on the floor with him on top, the sizeable hard length that you can feel pressed against the back of your thigh right now, sliding in-
The gentle melody of Javi’s phone signal cuts through your train of thought, making you snap your eyes open and Javi lets go of you, fumbling in his pants for the offending item. He gives you an apologetic look as he answers the phone in Spanish. As he speaks you start cleaning up the workbench and Javi moves into the shop. Even though you don’t know enough Spanish to understand what’s going on, you can hear his tone become more and more agitated. Eventually you hear him yell a loud “No!” and the sound of the phone hitting the floor, clearly breaking on impact. You put down the cloth you're holding and slowly go into the shop, Javi is standing in the middle, his phone in two pieces on the floor.
“Javi?” you ask apprehensively, and he sighs deeply, his shoulders rising up almost to his ears before slumping down, his whole body deflating as he turns to look at you.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running both his hands through his hair, pushing through it and grabbing hold of the back of his head, his eyebrows pulling together in anguish, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”
“It’s fine, Javi, I just want to make sure you’re ok, it seems like it was bad news,” you take a few steps closer to him, gently putting your hands on his waist. He sighs again, dropping his arms down to his sides as you slowly run your hands up and down his torso, the yellow shirt bunching under your fingers. Javi groans and drops his forehead onto your shoulder, cursing in Spanish, that much you understand.
“It’s my stupid cousin, he’s mad I stayed over the weekend, he wants me back in Mallorca as soon as possible, he’s sending someone to ‘fetch me’. Like I’m a child late home from school,” Javi growls and pushes himself up again, looking down at you.
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking anguished, “You don’t need to hear about my horrible cousin and my family problems.”
“It’s fine, Javi, everyone has family problems sometimes,” you say, still gently stroking his sides, “I can barely stand my dad, we always fight, I wish I had a better relationship with him, but it is what it is."
“I’m sorry for that too,” Javi says, lifting his arms up again and putting them around your neck, one hand gently cupping your face so that he can caress your cheek, his soft hand warm against your skin, “My father passed away a few years ago and my cousin and I took over the family business. I hate it, my cousin loves it, and he bosses me around every chance he gets,” Javi sighs again.
“He’ll really send someone to come get you?” you ask, “What happens if you say no?”
Javi just shakes his head, “It’s not as easy as that, unfortunately, the business is…complicated,” he says, his thumb still smoothing over your cheek, he’s tracing the lines of your face, lost in thought. You lean your head against his warm hand, letting him work through whatever is going through his mind until he seems to shake himself out of the reverie.
“No,” he says, his voice firm again, and he takes your hand, “I’m not going to let that ruin our afternoon.”
With a small smile he pulls you around and leads you back into the kitchen, “I’m not wasting any more time on that, come here, hermosa, beautiful girl,” he says, pulling you into his chest as he leans against the workbench, “I’m deciding that this is how we spend the rest of the afternoon,” he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you tight, the other one finds its way back to your cheek as he leans in closer, his soft looking pink lips brushing against yours.
“If that’s alright with you?” he mumbles, his voice suddenly dropping lower, winding its way around your brain and making you shiver.
“That’s more than alright with me, Javi”, you mumble back at him, your voice low to match his, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel every breath he takes, slipping over your lips. He closes the distance between the two of you, and takes your bottom lip between his own lips, gently tugging at it. He smiles against your mouth, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pull you closer, his tongue teasing the tip of yours. You feel your brain shut down, your eyes closing and the haze returning, all you can think about is Javi’s warm mouth and soft lips as he slowly turns you around so that he has you pressed up against the workbench.
You don’t end up on the floor, but when the smell of caramelized sugar and butter, the rich aroma of vanilla, pulls you away from Javi, you’re pleased to see that you’ve managed to unbutton several buttons on his shirt. He’s pulled your top up over your chest, his hand leaving warm trails across your torso and he chuckles as you playfully swat his hands away. Your cheeks are flushed and overheating as he chases your lips, trying to hold you closer still.
“Javi, I think the canelés are done,” you say, giving in and kissing him again, smiling against his eager mouth. Javi groans as if he’s in pain, reaching out to grab onto your hips but you laugh and quickly step out of his reach.
“Now, now, Javi, let’s not burn these delicious smelling things that we waited three days for,” you tell him, your face teasing him as he follows you over to the oven. The smell of vanilla, butter and rum hits you even stronger as you open the door and slide the tray out. Quickly unmolding them onto a cooling rack, you give Javi a happy grin.
“They look just like the photo in the book! Do they smell as you remember them?”
“They smell even better, and they look even better,” Javi muses, crouching down so that he can get a good look at the small golden cakes on the bench. Carefully tapping one of them with his knuckle, he smiles as it has a satisfying hard shell.
“I guess they have to cool before we eat them?” he asks, looking back up at you.
“Yeah, they’re way too hot now,” you reply, “but we can make some coffee.”
“Or we can make out,” he says, his hands finding their way up under your top again, pulling you close.
“Or we can make the coffee and make out?” you suggest, leaning in to press a wet kiss to the skin just under Javi’s ear, the spot that you’ve quickly learned is a favorite of his. You’re rewarded with a shiver, a gentle hum coming from him as he leans his head back to give you better access.
“Come on,” you laugh, taking his hand and pulling him with you as he protests, “Coffee, then kisses, then canelés.” You grab the plate with the small cakes and lead him into the shop, hitting the on button on your fancy espresso machine.
Javi leans next to it as you go through the motions, grinding the beans and measuring out the coffee.
“What do you want?” you ask him, “espresso, cappuccino, latte?”
“Espresso, please,” he replies, moving to stand behind you while you make it for him, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.
“You’re so talented, running this bakery, making all these cakes and pie, and then you’re a barista too,” he says, his short neat beard tickling against your neck as he gives you a kiss, “I’d hire you, but I don’t think you’d like my family business.”
“That’s ok, Javi, I like running my own business,” you smile, giving him his espresso and preparing your own, “It’s a lot of work but I get to decide everything, I don’t think I could have a boss over me again.”
“Hmm…” Javi hums as he sips the espresso, turning so that he’s leaning against the counter again, “I won’t suggest it now, but if you ever want to open a bakery in Mallorca, near where I live, I could help you.”
“I think my Spanish needs to improve first,” you laugh, taking your coffee and standing in front of him so that you can enjoy the view you’ve created by unbuttoning most of his shirt.
“You could always hire me,” he smiles, “I’ll handle the customers, you handle the baking, we’d be a great team.”
“I’d hire you here in a heartbeat, Javi,” you say, “you were great with the customers.”
He smiles at that, leaning forward so that you can kiss him, the bittersweet taste of coffee sharp on both your lips.
“Canelés”, you mumble as his free hand starts to roam up under your top again.
“I’m not that interested anymore,” Javi smiles, pressed against your lips, and it makes you giggle.
“We’ve waited for three days, and I’ve never had them,” you say, pulling yourself away from him with a tremendous effort, his lips really are very soft and his palms are so warm against your skin.
“Ok, ok,” he chuckles, giving in to you as he leans over and picks up one of the canelés in his big hand and holds it out to you, “have a taste, tell me if it was worth the wait.”
You take a bite, your teeth crunching through the exterior and you gasp as you feel the creamy inside. The cake is still warm, sweet vanilla and rum hitting your palate together with the flavor of caramelized sugar.
“Oh my god…” you hum, slowly chewing as Javi smiles and puts the rest of it in his mouth and grabs a second one, holding it out to you again, “This is so good, Javi,” you say, swallowing your bite and letting him feed you a second one, “Thank you for getting me to make them.”
“I’m glad you like them,” he smiles, “they are exceptionally good, not even the place in Paris comes even close to these, fresh out of the oven.”
You reach behind you for a third one, pulling it apart down the middle to reveal the lacy center, your baker brain kicking in as you study how the batter has created strong gluten strands that criss-cross the inside of the cake, making it creamy rather than bready.
“Really interesting…” you say, turning it over until Javi's mouth suddenly opens over your fingers and he takes the whole piece in one big bite.
“Thief!” you exclaim, giving him a mock scolding look as he grins, his cheeks stuffed full of cake, his shoulders jumping as he tries to chew and laugh at the same time. When you pout back at him he grabs the fourth canelé and presents it to you with his deep brown puppy eyes wide open and pleading.
“Please…he mumbles around his mouthful, “please, accept my apology,” he swallows down the last piece as you open your mouth so that he can feed you a bite. You hum around the flavors again, putting both your hands on Javi’s chest and taking hold of his open shirt.
“I want apologies in kisses,” you demand, pulling him into you as he grins widely.
“You wish is my command, princesa,” he replies, coming willingly into your arms.
“That Spanish I understood,” you mumble, his lips brushing against yours again as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“I’m glad, princesa,” he smiles, and lets you pull his mouth against yours.
The bitter coffee mingles with the sweet vanilla on his breath, and you know he must taste the same on yours. He groans, angeling his face, moving so that he can reach more of you, his tongue gliding against yours as you run your fingers through his soft curls.
The sharp rap of knuckles on the window startles you both, and you look over Javi’s shoulder towards the front door. It’s the damn driver.
With a sigh you pull back and look up at Javi again, “It’s your driver, I guess you’re being “fetched.”
Javi glances behind him and groans, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder as he turns back. The driver is looking at you with a neutral expression, nothing betrays what he’s thinking about finding his employer in a heavy make out session inside a bakery.
“I’m sorry,” Javi says, “I will have to go, or there’ll be hell to pay for me when I get back home,” he gives you a pained look, “I’m really sorry, I wish I could stay here.”
“It’s ok, Javi, you know where to find me when you’re in town again,” you smile, “just come back soon, ok?”
Javi nods and pulls out his phone, “Give me your number, I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’m going to try to make canelés at home, and I know I’m going to need your help,” he smiles as you laugh.
“I’ll make sure you set a timer this time, Javi.”
You add your number to his cracked phone and hand it back. Javi sighs and looks over his shoulder again, “I should go, he doesn’t like waiting.”
“Ok,” you say, giving him a small smile as he lifts his hand and strokes your cheek, “come back soon, Javi.”
“I promise, I will,” he nods, his curls, definitely more unruly now than when he came, bouncing on his head.
“Oh, wait,” you giggle, “let me button you up, I got a bit carried away,” you smile and quickly do up his yellow shirt, hiding the soft looking, freckled skin again.
Javi giggles above you as your fingers work your way up, and he grabs your hands as you reach his neck.
“One more kiss,” he says, “for the road, as they say.”
You nod as he leans closer, bending his head so that he lips can brush over yours, a last, slow kiss, his tongue coming out to taste yours with a few small licks.
“Good bye,” he mumbles as he pulls away, holding on to your hand until he has to let go.
“Safe travels, Javi,” you reply, giving him a small smile. He raises his hand in a last wave and steps out through the door.
Part Eleven
Please don't be intimidated by this recipe! They are not as tricky as they seem and they can actually be baked in a muffin tin if you have it. I've made these several times and they're really the most delicious little cake!
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Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers
#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal#javi gutierrez#javi gutierrez x reader#Youtube
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𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓛𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱
Aemond Targaryen x Sister Targaryen Reader
Summary: She did everything to support her whole family, not knowing that she herself was slowly falling apart. But her brother saw everything.
A/N: I hope you all gonna like it. It contains two parts with smut, so please be aware of that and don't read it if you're minor.
English is not my native language. Sorry for any mistakes.
Moans and sighs spread through the prince's room, occasionally passing through the thick wooden doors due to their intensity.
The white-haired girl moved like a cat, flexing her back so that everything was available to the man lying under her.
Bending down, Y/n brushed her lips with his, hiding the moans that wanted to leave her mouth. The white-haired man grabbed her neck in one of his hands to hold her close to him while the other slid down onto her hip, squeezing it and manipulating her movements.
They both chased their climax, desperately moving their loins, meeting in the middle. After a while, a familiar feeling of warmth flooded their abdomen, spreading to their fingertips. Their lips moved among themselves in a lazy manner, while the fair-haired prince still twirled the lower part of her body, so that the feeling of blissful pleasure would last as long as possible.
When she wanted to get off the man, one of his hands stopped her and she looked at him, giving him a questioning look.
-Stay -he muttered, closing his eyes tiredly.
-I can't - replied the young woman. - It's inappropriate, Aegon.
Her brother only sighed, the alcohol in his body making itself felt more and more.
-And we still do it - he said suddenly with a malicious smile on his face - You see dear sister, you love to be loved. And I love giving you what you want.
The girl assumed an apathetic expression on her face and got up from the bed.
Aegon could live in this belief, believe it to be true. But for Y/n, it was a kind of comfort and stability.
There were no positive feelings in her family that she had tried so hard to find, eventually giving up and finding a substitute for something else. And despite the fact that no one ever made her feel comfortable, she tried to give it to everyone around her, as if something was pushing her to make others happy, at the expense of herself.
The sliver hair girl put on the red dress she had been wearing all day, accompanied by the grunts and snoring of her older brother, who fell asleep at the moment when she left his arms.
Leaving the chamber, she hid in the shadows, sneaking between the servants and the guards, so that no one would see her near the Aegon chamber at such a late hour, avoiding unwanted glances with innate grace, but this time there was one, also hidden deep in the darkness of the castle watching her every single step.
-You seem depressed - said Helaena.
- Hmm? -Her younger sister muttered, looking from her nephew to her.
-Your eyes. There is a lot of despair in them -she stated directly.
The white-haired girl did not answer her, smiling gently, preferring not to explain herself to siblings.
- Each of us has sad eyes sometimes - she replied after a long moment, not to leave the young woman without any answer.
Picking Jaehaerys up, she adjusted him on her lap as the girls' mother passed through the door. Y/n gave her only a brief glance, returning her attention to the baby in her arms.
Queen Alicent stepped closer to her, a serious expression on her face that made the room feel cool.
-Helaena, take the children outside - the brown-haired woman informed - Leave us - she added, looking in turn at the stiffly standing maids that came out immediately after the woman finished the sentence.
The violet-eyed girl did not change her position, only handing the baby over to one of the servants. Even as her mother stood in front of her, towering over her, princess demeanor did not change.
Her irises went up, there was nothing in them but indifference.
-Something happened, mother?- She asked stoically, placing one of her hands under her chin.
-Please don't play the fool, Y/n. From all siblings, you inherited the most intelligence - the dark-eyed woman said.
-I do not pretend to be a fool- the girl said- I can not read your mind, if you want to learn something from me, just ask - she added, settling more comfortably on the expensive-decorated armchair.
-Do you sleep with your brother? - she asked on the verge of irritation- Do you have an affair with Aegon ?!
White hair did not say right away.
Outwardly, she might look like a Targaryen, but the blood in her veins was deeply ingrained in the Hightower legacy, keeping her cool and calculating.
-Romance is a strong word - she replied calmly - And I could not have committed such an act. Aegon is married.
Alicent bent down so that she could look the youngest daughter in the eyes. As she supposed, her facade did not crack even for a split second.
-You are a great liar Y/n, but you were careless and now you are treading on the edge of a very thin knife - the woman said softly. - The maid saw you leave your brother's chamber last night, hearing earlier a barrage of groans you both couldn't hide! - she screamed angry - Do you understand how dangerous is what you are doing ?! Do you understand?! - She asked, grabbing her cheeks in her hand and pointing them at herself so that the long-haired girl could not escape her gaze - You desecrated your body, you sleep with a married man. What if you got pregnant? Then what?!
- Better me than a random girl from our castle, don't you think? - asked her daughter- At least I can keep Aegon in check, making sure that no bastards see the light of day.
-That's not the right solution- snapped the queen- How can you do that to your own sister ?!
-I'm doing it to protect her!- she said as furiously as her mother. -I do everything to keep my siblings safe, because you don't care.
Y/n rose from her seat, facing Alicent, a fiery gaze in her eyes that turned defiant, almost despising.
-How can you say that?- she asked in a calmer voice.
-Aegon has been abused over and over by you since childhood. You told him that he has to become king because his life depends on it, and he sinked into himself, drinking all day because no one understands him, no one listens to him. Helaena has a child's mind, and does not understand how this world works, and Aemond has become a shadow of his own self. He is dry, cold and brutal - said the daughter of the king - What kind of mother are you that you cannot see the suffering of your own children? What kind of mother are you so that your daughter has to hold the family together, devoting herself mentally and physically? - she asked, and her stoic facade slowly began to crack. - Nobody, never saw it, nobody was ever grateful, nobody felt sorry for me. And all I wanted was to be loved, to be looked after. And you couldn't even do it.
The dark-haired woman stood in front of her, speechless. Everything her daughter represented was so familiar and so painful. Alicent felt as if she had spoken to herself from almost fifteen years.
- I'm sorry- she finally whispered.
-Have you ever used that word before? - white-haired girl asked arrogantly before she turned on her heel, leaving the room.
Her eyes stared straight ahead and she missed Aemond standing not far from the door to the chambers, listening to every word that left the mouths of both women. His eyes chased the receding figure of his twin sister, his beloved Y/n , and after a while he heard a scream from afar and the sound of breaking glass.
The white-haired man pushed himself away from the wall. Going straight to confront the woman he was ready to kill for.
The princess was staring at the cracked mirror, a few shards lying on the table in front of her. She wanted to laugh as she looked up, seeing only half of her face. It was almost poetic. A cracked mirror, representing how the owner of the reflection in it really was broken.
-You'll hurt yourself - said a male voice behind her.
His sister's lavender eyes looked up at him, following every move he made until he stood behind her, wrapping his long arms around her as if to protect her from everything outside.
- I will not - she replied in a calm tone of voice - I can take care of myself.
- The same way you do it with us? - he asked, and his twin eyes widened imperceptibly. - I used to hate you. I hated how protective you were. I hated how warm your words were and how your touch became intoxicated to me. I hated that I wasn't the only one getting your attention. But then I realized it wasn't hate but frustration that everyone was taking you from me and that I couldn't give you what you wanted. And I've always wanted to give you love that you deserved.
Y/n listened in amazement, staring at the cracked mirror that showed Aemond and her together. Just as broken, just as lonely.
Suddenly her brother's gaze fell on her lips, the girl did not protest when his long fingers touched her cheek, after a while making eye contact with him.
The prince studied her face carefully, when suddenly his hand turned her quickly, checking her reactions to the movement, and as he saw her eyes sweep with desire and her pink lips parting slightly, he showed his triumph by digging into her soft lips.
The white-haired girl felt a pleasant, electric shiver running down her spine. She parted her lips for the man's access and began kissing him back.
Aemond shed the upper garments that bound him, allowing his sister's eyes to see his muscular chest without any problems.
The king's daughter, not wanting to be left behind, tugged at the strings of her dress, deftly loosening it so that it fell under her feet.
Satisfied, the silver-haired man pressed her against the wall and sank his mouth into hers again, clenching his hands on the young woman's body , moving them up and down. The princess reacted subtly to every move of his , placing her hands on the neck of her twin, taking pleasure in touching him.
The body temperature rose sharply, and their lips pressed more and more together. Aemond slid his hands down onto her hips and tossed it violently. Y/n landed on him and wrapped her legs around his torso.
The man detached from her lips and pressed them against her neck, leaving wet and hot traces of his burning lips there. The girl could not suppress her groans, in addition, sinking fingers in the thicket of the young man's hair and pressing him tighter, arching her spine into an arch.
The feeling of her breasts rubbing against the king's son's torso made him throw her onto the bed, immediately clinging to their nipples, teasing, kissing and licking them as if it were his only chance. Violet-eyed beauty squirmed under his body, trying covering her mouth with her hand, but before she could do it, her brother's big hand stopped her halfway, holding her wrists above her head. The sudden domination of the fair-haired man made her wet womanhood even more plump and desperate.
The man's lips traveled through her body, marking every inch of her snow-white skin, finally stopping over her pubic bone. His eye followed closely the marks her brother had left, some newer , some older, but now Y/n was his, and he had to change that.
The young woman screamed as she felt teeth sinking into her skin. Looking down, she saw the prince shamelessly marking her body, focusing on where Aegon had left his marks.
Spreading her legs apart, he repeated the previous action, marking her with open, wet kisses and bites her thighs. Then he clung to her femininity, kissing the folds and clitoris, occasionally twirling his tongue around her entrance like a starved man.
Her orgasm was approaching drastically in great strides, and just as it was about to appear, a burst in her lower abdomen and make a pleasant warmth spilled inside her, a feeling of cold and emptiness overwhelmed her.
-Why did you stop?! - she asked angry, on the verge of crying.
Aemond caught her chin in his fingers, lifting it up, bringing himself closer to her face.
-Because you will come only when I am inside you, when I am sure that every part of your body will be begging for me, dear sister - he muttered , wiping their lips together.
The prince grasped her hips, entering her with one fluid movement. Y/n screamed at the feeling of pushing and fullness overwhelming her body. Touching her belly, she could've feel a bulge that reminded her exactly who she belonged to.
Her brother himself followed her slender hand, watching in fascination as his manhood moved inside the woman. Pressing the princess's hand, he began to move his hips hard, still keeping his pace at slow. Tears appeared in the girl's eyes, which were the result of the pain and pleasure that ran through her body with every movement of the man's hips.
-Aemond - she moaned, closing her eyes with the delight that overwhelmed her.
Her orgasm came unexpectedly but just as hard, making her toes squeeze.
Violet-eyed man came out of her and placed her on top of his legs, filling her interior again. The intensity of the feeling made her eyes tear more, but the pleasure was so great that she wiggled her hips desperately looking for another release that came swiftly and powerfully. Her juices spilled over Targaryen's pants, who growled softly, feeling a warm and wet spasming of her vaginal walls.
Y/n, tired closed her eyes.
Her body became flabby but in spite of this the white-haired man again put her in the position he wanted. Entering her from behind, he did not limit himself by giving his movements a brutal speed. The sounds of skin hitting against each other could be heard in the whole room, being drowned out from time to time by single white-haired woman screams.
-More - the girl moaned into the sheets, as if something had possessed her body.
-More? -asked her brother, grabbing her waist, lifting her body so that her back was rubbing against his torso, his manhood now going much deeper, so much that the princess was convinced he was in her stomach- You are a desperate little being ,aren't you? Don't worry, I will give you as much pleasure as you like. And when I make you my wife, I put a baby in you, you'll be so pretty, so full of my children.
At these words, as if on command, violet-eyed girl came with a silent scream, later groaning softly as she felt warmth flood her insides again and again, as Aemond's cum poured out of her, making her trembled with the feeling.
Her twin brushed her lips, meeting her in a lazy kiss, then emerging carefully from her after a while, placing her tired body on the bed beneath them.
The queen's daughter's eyes closed almost immediately with exhaustion, and her mind drifted to the land of dragon dreams. The man wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her as close as possible, and covered their bodies with a thin satin material.
The next day, when Y/n opened her irises, the first thing she felt was the presence behind her, the presence of her beloved brother who, like a symbol of hope, calmed her heart and mind, letting her know that now it will only get better.
It has to be.
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They don’t stay together at the end | Charles Leclerc x reader
summary: you and charles meet, live and life goes on.
author’s note: i enjoyed this but no at the same time? maybe it’s a little confusing, sorry. I hope you enjoy anyway :) and let me know if you do! english isn’t my first language!!!! and it’s been a while since i wrote something, be nice please
*also: I think the reader is gender neutral, but i don’t exactly remember.
warnings: none but If you find any let me know
**2nd part: ‘they see each other again’
“Move in with me to Monaco” Charles’ voice caught your attention.
You had met during that week, three days ago to be more precise and the days since have been more than a dream. A true fairy tale.
Charles’ was travelling, enjoying his days off before the begin of the season, and you were trying to make a life in a new place. You were working at a cafe when you met him; brown eyes enchanting you right away. He was a prince; the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
“Hi” he said softly while paying for his drink.
“Hi” you answered back with a mere whisper. If he wasn’t paying fully attention to you, he wouldn’t have heard.
And that was when you figure it out how powerful a two letter word can be.
This simple ‘hi’ became a whole conversation at the end of your shift, and then him showing around the city; his favorite spots, places he holds deep in his heart. Charles told you stories and you loved how his eyes sparkled with passion whenever he mentioned his family, friends or his career. He loved talking about art, he showed you his songs. Every little thing he did, you fell more and more.
But this dream would end one day. You knew - and so did he. This whole fairytale is gonna come to an end eventually and he’s gonna go back to his prestigious life as a driver while you gonna go back to your cafe and small apartment you share with other three people. Everything was gonna be nothing more than a memory - one you will hold close to your heart forever.
He was still staring at you, body and hair wet from the hot shower. You were on his hotel bed, covered with the white sheets, hair a mess and body tired. You were still sweating. He looked ethereal.
“I can’t, you know that” you laughed.
“Of course you can” he sat next to you, hand holding yours “You can live with me. At least at first if you want to live somewhere. And if you want, you can find a job there - or not too. Just come. I need you”
“You’re insane! I can’t just go and leave everything behind again. I need to create roots, a life. And more: what people would say? They would think I’m using you for money and fame”
“Who cares about what people think? It’s me and you that matters, nothing else. Create roots with me. We’ve been having such a good time together here, why not keep this going?”
“Because” you tried to argue, taking a deep breath before continuing “Because this is just a moment, Charles. This is good, perfect, but we both know it won’t last. This is good because it’s gonna come to an end. That’s all. Destiny played its part: we met each other, we learn from each other, and now we need to follow our own paths”
Charles got quiet. He was sad, you could see it; feel it even. But he knew you weren’t wrong. You couldn’t just drop everything you’ve been fighting for and go on this adventure with him; he had everything right already. A name for himself, a career.
“I love you. I love this” your hand held his face and went to his hair, caressing the brown humid strands. He closed his eyes, letting his head lean on your warm touch. When he opened his eyes, he found you smiling. Charles Leclerc was truly a thing.
He leaned further, nose meeting yours and he let himself enjoy the intimate touch. He kissed you then, with more passion than he had on the previous days.
“Fine” he rested his head against yours “I hope we meet again soon. Until there, let’s enjoy the time we have, ok?”
“Ok”
The days passed and everything felt then times more real. The feelings you had towards each other were crude and transparent to everyone. You went more places together, ate together, slept together. You loved him and he loved you. Life was simple.
The day he left, you went to the airport to say goodbye. It felt right.
While you saw him walk to his gate and disappear from your sight, you thought how beautiful those days were. It’s was not just about love, but about moments, about knowing to live with the knowledge that everything can and will end. One hour, one day, one week, one month or an entire life - moments are what makes life what it is and the best thing we can do is be grateful for them to happen at first place, and for the people who are part of it.
When you left the airport, the cold breeze met your face. That day was a good day, and you hoped faith would put Charles in your path once again; in that life or in another one.
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc fluff#formula one#formula 1#formula one x you#formula 1 x you#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 imagines#f1#f1 imagines#enough tags i believe#artsy writes
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barges in/ WHAT ABOUT BTAS JERVIS X READER?
OWO
why, thank you for asking 😉 i've had this persistent concept knocking around my brain wherein Jervis earnestly tries to move past his devotion for Alice...only to tumble straight back down into obsession when he meets You 😳
Jervis Tetch x Reader First Meeting headcanons
🎩 although it pains him to admit it, the years of unrequited love have taken their toll on Jervis. his Alice is long gone—departed from Gotham with her now-husband (filthy brute), with a new name and her hair dyed a mousey brown. as far as he can tell, she's dropped off the map entirely, and it's been nearly a year since he last caught any trace of her. months in yet another cold, lonely stint at Arkham leave his soul more empty than ever before...and he decides, one lovelorn night, that such suffering should not befall a gentleman. although the thought sickens him, Jervis resolves that when he gets out, he is going to make a fresh start...even just for a while.
🎩 when finally he next escapes (his technology being instrumental in a jailbreak largely orchestrated by the other rogues, of course—no need for him to do their dirty work), Jervis makes good on his promise and leaves Gotham for a few cities over. he travels in civilian clothes and fights the urge to wear any sort of hat, fearing that even a simple cap could betray his identity. yet the experiment is a success. within days he has sequestered himself in an unassuming little apartment, and even ventured out to speak with a neighbour or two, none of whom recognise him as The Mad Hatter. it's a queer feeling, not seeing fear reflected in the eyes of those around him...and it gives him a quiet thrill which makes him forget himself, leaving Jervis grinning far too wide.
🎩 still, Jervis is a man with certain compulsions. he's partial to an afternoon walk, and at 3 o'clock exactly makes his way out into his new city, looking for nothing in particular and simply enjoying air without walls. however, he soon comes across a quaint little teashop, its sign scrawled in a delightful Shakespearean font and the windows ringed with English ivy. "How serendipitous," Jervis murmurs to himself. "I shan't pass up an opportunity such as this...after all, you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling!"
🎩 Jervis orders his usual beverage without incident and takes a seat which gives him an excellent view of the whole teashop. his discerning blue eyes scan the room, but it isn't until he's cleared half the customers that he realises he was searching for a glimpse of Alice's golden hair. Jervis sighs, and takes a long, sad sip of his tea—only to splutter when he spots You in the corner of the room. You are tucked up with your legs crossed, your nose buried in a book. there's a little half-smile on your face, and Jervis watches with interest as you chuckle at something you read. he stares at You and the book, and an icy chill of recognition works its way down his spine.
🎩 before he can stop himself, Jervis abandons his tea and makes his way over to You. for a full minute he looms over You quite unnoticed, so absorbed You are by your book. after quietly clearing his throat does not catch your attention, Jervis opts to take the direct approach. "Excuse me, my dear." You look up, curious. Jervis smiles with all his teeth—too bright, too intense. "I do hope you'll forgive my impudence, interrupting you on a fine day such as this. But may I ask...what are you reading?"
🎩 "Oh!" You say with a giggle. You turn the book towards Jervis, revealing the cover. "I'm reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's my favourite story."
#jervis tetch x reader#mad hatter x reader#jervis tetch x you#mad hatter x you#jervis tetch#mad hatter#the mad hatter#batman: the animated series#btas#batman#x reader#starleskasks#starleskawrites#long post#alice pleasance
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in the practice room
masterlist
Charles x reader (4.8k words)
summary: charles is a man that contains multitudes. you help him see that through the music.
warnings: mention of deaths of parents, slight music lingo (not necessary to the plot), fluff
in the practice room
In a bustling but quiet coffee shop, you bend over a pile of papers filled with messy notes, rests, and slurs. On the B section of the piece, you scratch out a run of eighth notes you had just penciled in, frowning slightly at the score. Something’s just not right.
You decide this calls for some noodling around on the piano to figure it out, so you tuck your sheets safely into a manila folder and the folder into your canvas tote, sling the bag over your shoulder, and scoop up your iced americano with one hand while fumbling for your wallet containing your bus card in your pocket with the other. You turn around and—
Disaster. As your hand makes contact with the stranger who seemingly came out of nowhere, your cup goes flying out of your hand, coffee soaking your pants, your socks, your shoes. You yelp as you feel cold liquid on your ankles—thank god you went with iced today instead of a latte. The straps of your heavy tote slide down your shoulder, catching painfully in the crook of your elbow, bumping indignantly into the perpetrator as it swings. His mouth is shaped in a tiny, surprised O. You’re fairly sure yours is, too. Students glance up from their laptops; a group of older women pause their conversation, peering curiously at the two of you.
“Oh, my god,” the stranger says. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” you mutter automatically, crouching to pick up the sad remnants of your americano. As you rise, you notice that the coffee has stained his perfectly white pants. You gasp. “Oh no.”
“What is it?” he asks, then follows your gaze down. “Oh.”
“Shit. Your pants are ruined.” You crane your neck, searching desperately for a potential source of napkins.
“So are yours,” he points out rather unhelpfully.
Magically, a barista hurries over right then with a stack of paper towels. “Thank you so much,” you tell him hastily as you hand one to the stranger and start dabbing at your own clothes, dragging some of them around the floor with a shoe. Your tote—along with its precious cargo of textbooks and your score—seems thankfully unharmed, and you set it gingerly down in a chair while you clean.
The stranger bends down and starts helping you mop up the rest of the floor. You see a pair of aviators nestled in his brown curls. And as the initial shock of the collision subsides, you take in the thick eyelashes, a perfectly sloped nose, a Cupid’s bow that looked like a little upside-down W. You wonder if he has a girlfriend, and think to yourself that if you guys weren’t drenched in coffee, you might even have dared to ask.
He finishes wiping away the puddle, and stands up, finally meeting your eyes for the first time. He has the kind of eyes that are every color under the sun; a ring of blue fading into green, a sunburst of brown around his pupils. “I am so stupid,” he says in heavily accented English. “Your clothes are ruined—let me replace them.”
Replace them? You blush at the thought of him replacing your clothes. Then you blush harder when you realize he doesn’t mean it like that at all.
“No, no,” you wave the offer away. “It’s coffee, I can try it in the wash.” Although in your experience, light wash jeans and a cream hoodie usually did not play well with bean juice. And of course it had soaked the seam between your legs, making for a maximally embarrassing look. “And your pants are ruined too…”
The cute stranger sighs. “Guess so. And I’d just gotten here. I hope you weren’t on your way to somewhere important.”
You shake your head. “I was just headed to the uni’s music rooms. A friend dropped me off here but I can take the bus to the school.”
He raises an eyebrow at music rooms. “You’re still going?”
“I mean, I should probably try to get home first,” you say, realizing that you’re a little out of options.
“I drove here,” the stranger informs you. He pauses. “Let me take you to your apartment, or least get you somewhat close. If you’re okay with it, of course.”
You consider this. You give him a once-over; his arms are crossed, and he looks a little nervous, tapping a white sneaker on the ground. You figure he’s probably not the first serial killer of Monaco you’ve ever heard of. “Okay,” you shrug. “I appreciate it.”
He smiles, his playful lips curling up at the corners. “Not a problem. My car’s out in front.”
He opens the door for you on your way out of the coffee shop. You hear whispers from several tables as you pass by.
A lot houses rows of parked cars on the side of the plaza. On the far edge is one of those extremely fancy sports cars, most of which you know nothing about. Even in Monaco, a place with no shortage of nice cars, it stands out—and not just because whoever parked it did a truly horrendous job of it.
The stranger strides down the lot, and you point out the fancy car. “Whoa. Look at that.”
“Cool car,” he says casually. He stops at the far side of the lot.
You chuckle. “I hope you parked before this guy came in.” You grab the passenger side handle of the white sedan next to it—
“Wait!” the stranger cries. Alarmed, you release the door. He reaches into his pocket, produces a keychain with an electronic fob and a little horse dangling from it. And the ridiculous sports car next to it chirps awake.
“Oh my god.”
He looks sheepish. “Sorry, I’m kind of a terrible parker.”
Your cheeks are on fire. “I didn’t mean to roast you,” you mutter.
But he smiles and opens the door for you. You climb in, afraid to touch anything. Or breathe, for that matter.
He joins you in the car. “I should tell you my name,” he says. Extends a hand. “Charles.”
You accept the handshake, feeling a tiny frission of something bloom in your chest, and tell him your name too.
“Well,” Charles says. “To where do I have the pleasure of driving you this morning?”
You laugh. Charles is so cheesy. And very, very cute. “My apartment is…” you finish with the address.
He punches it into the GPS and starts up the car. Classical music begins playing.
“Grieg,” you muse as the strains of his piano concerto float through the speakers. “Good taste.”
Charles gives you a sidelong glance. “You play piano?”
“Just a little,” you admit. “I’m not any good, but we have to know some basics for music composition.”
“So you’re a student?”
“Grad school. Third year.”
“Wow,” Charles says. “That’s pretty impressive.”
You chuckle then, because to you it’s definitely not. “Well? What do you do?”
It’s telling of how intently you’ve been staring at him that you notice a tiny muscle in his neck tense at your question.
“Hmm, well. I also play, although I’m no good, mostly trying to learn. But if you’re asking about my job, I work…for a car company.”
Ah. That explains a lot. “Just a guess…” you say in a bit of a teasing tone, looking at the little black horse on the wheel. “Ferrari?”
“Bingo,” Charles says.
“What do you do for them?”
“I, uh…” he looks uncomfortable now. “I drive for some of their specialized lines, I guess.”
“So you’re a test driver!” You didn’t even know that was a full-time job. It’s pretty sick.
Charles chuckles. “I guess, of a sort.”
“And you say grad school is cool,” you snort as he pulls up in front of your apartment. Rubenstein is just starting the cadenza of the first movement.
“It is,” Charles says, his insistent tone catching you by surprise. “Being able to just learn, immerse yourself in something that deeply…I’m pretty jealous, if I’m being honest.”
You look at him questioningly.
“Ferrari has me traveling quite a bit,” he clarifies. “Not exactly the most conducive life to go back to school. And I love playing piano, but I can only really do it back home.”
“Oh,” you say, feeling a little bad for Charles.
He shrugs. “Are you still going to the practice rooms? Because I am totally happy to wait for you to change and then drive you there.”
“I can’t have you be my taxi,” you laugh. “Seriously, thank you for bringing me home. You really saved me from a small dilemma.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” You feel slightly deflated at the thought of never seeing Charles again. Monaco was small, right? Maybe you’d run into him…someday. Maybe.
“Alright then,” he agrees. He gives you a long look, as if he’s taking you in. “I’m sorry again for the coffee. I’ll…see you around.”
“Goodbye, Charles.” You shut the door of his gorgeous Ferrari and walk up the stairs of your apartment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watch him drive away as you open the front door.
~
A week later, Charles couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something, anything to see her again. He kicked himself for not asking her if she wanted to hang out again, not even for her number. He supposed he knew where she lived now, but that was somehow more unhelpful than knowing nothing at all. Charles felt a void open inside his chest, and unable to stand that nagging feeling for another second, grabbed his car keys and a book and and drove to the coffee shop. He didn’t dare let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d be there.
After surreptitiously glancing around to make sure no fans would notice him instantly, Charles pushed his sunglasses onto his head. He surveyed the tables more closely, and then his eyes landed on a sight that filled his head with what felt like helium.
She was sitting in a corner, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, tucking her hair behind her ear as she scribbled busily on a sheet of lined paper. A half-eaten scone sat on a little dish. No sign of a coffee.
“Sorry,” he said to the barista, whom he’d just asked for a latte. “I’ll add one iced americano to my order.”
~
You’re deep in concentration when a looming presence takes over your periphery, and you jump in your seat. It’s Charles. Wearing a disarming smile, a red sweater, and extending a hand holding an iced americano.
Okay, so maybe you picked this coffee shop to work at on purpose. Nobody needed to know that you never worked at the same coffee shop twice in a row, that you were so prone to distraction that you constantly tried to switch up the scenery.
I guess it paid off.
“Charles,” you say, fighting to keep a smile off your face.
“Hi.” He looks shy. “Don’t want to bother you but thought I’d say hi.”
“No, not at all,” you say quickly. Even if Charles sat clear across the shop from you, all hope of concentration was gone. “Want to sit down?”
He accepts your invitation, carefully sliding down the bench across from you. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, and you take a greedy sip of the coffee Charles mercifully brought you.
“I brought a book,” he says proudly, holding up a well-loved copy of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. He looks a little bit like a child displaying his beloved finger-painting project, and you resist the urge to ruffle his hair. “So I don’t distract you.”
Oh, Charles. If only he knew.
“Too late,” you let yourself say with a small smile. You cannot make eye contact with him right now. “But as luck would have it, I’m finishing up.”
Charles leans over, peering at the rows of staffs penciled in with rolling arpeggios, thick chords in the bass, repeatedly written and re-written tempo changes. “That,” he breathes, “is so cool. Literally mind-blowing.”
You blush furiously. “At least it looks that way. I’m pretty much wrapping up. Need to try a few things on the keyboard.”
“You’re going to the practice room again?” Charles asks.
“Yeah,” you respond. Then you remember something. “Actually, if you want to come—of course you don’t have to—but if you wanted to play piano there are plenty of them there.”
Stupid. Judging by his Ferrari, he probably has a much nicer piano at home. Some of those baby grands at the uni were real crusty…
But his eyes are bright, and he eagerly nods. “Really? Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Sure.”
Charles beams. “I can drive us there.”
The subsequent ride to the music building is scored by Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2, along with Charles’ laughter.
~
Charles followed her down the silent hall, lined by soundproof rooms each housing a piano in various states of decay. She stopped in front of a room with a shiny black baby grand. “Here,” she whispered. “This is one of the better ones.” She took a tiny key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.
He found it rather distracting that they were in a small, enclosed, soundproof room together. Alone. He forced himself to send his imagination into oblivion.
“I’m going to figure out this section of my piece,” she told him. “But I kind of want to hear you play, not gonna lie…” She had a teasing smile on her face.
Charles swallowed. “I told you, I’m terrible.”
“I won’t push you,” she said, more gently this time. “But I do mean it when I say I want to hear you play.”
“Wait,” he said bravely. “I am working on something. Just promise me to be nice.”
She held up a pinky. “Promise.”
Charles took a deep breath. This might have been the first time he’d ever actually played for anyone. Hands shaking, he muddled his way through a simple Chopin waltz he’d been working on. When he finished, he looked up to see her grinning ear to ear.
“See,” he muttered. “Told you I’m bad.”
She answered by sweeping him into a hug. She smelled like the orange blossoms that lined the streets in Monaco.
“Promise me,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by Charles’ shoulder. “Promise me you’ll never say that again.”
~
You can hardly believe it, but that was only the first time you and Charles went to the practice rooms together. Your friend has stopped giving you rides, because every Monday, Charles’ Ferrari waits patiently at your apartment, and you chatter all the way to a coffee shop of the week. Charles reads a book as you work on your manuscripts, study for your written exams, and when you’ve both had enough, you drive to the practice rooms. In the car, he plays a different classical work every time. It’s usually piano, but not always.
Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1. He tells you the song reminds him of the way his stomach flutters before the lights go out at the start of the race, the thrill of rounding a sharp turn. It’s how you find out his real job at Ferrari is being a driver for Formula One.
Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor. You gush over the lush, grandiose chords, describing how you never liked the song much until you heard Yuja Wang tear it to shreds. You confess that it’s so intense, so majestic, that you’ll blast it through your headphones at the gym of all places.
Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 90, No. 3. He asks you if you’ve seen that sci-fi movie, Gattcca. It sounds vaguely familiar. He launches into a description of Uma Thurman telling Ethan Hawke, “that piece can only be played with twelve fingers.” You laugh and tell him the song takes place almost entirely on the black keys, so Uma’s character must not be totally wrong. He says you two need to watch the movie together sometime. Your stomach flutters at the thought of a movie night with Charles.
Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Pas de deux. You tell him that you danced ballet for almost ten years as a child, but you could never take your eyes off the piano in the corner of the studio. Your last dance ever was as the Sugar Plum Fairy, and as soon as you took your bow, you rushed over to peer into the pit orchestra. Charles catches you by surprise, tells you that while his dad was still alive, he used to drag his entire family to see the ballet every Christmas. You feel a pang in your chest, place your hand over his.
He’s always shocked when you identify the song, most of them within a few notes. You laugh, tease him that he plays cliché music. You don’t tell him that you let yourself imagine each song is like a flower that he brings to your doorstep, even though neither of you have said anything about what you are, what these weekly excursions to the practice rooms mean.
Barber’s Adagio for Strings. You complain that Charles is being a total downer, then promptly confess that this is the only thing you want played at your funeral. Charles teases you for already having the soundtrack to your funeral in mind…and asks if the same is true for your wedding. You roll your eyes, blushing, smack his arm playfully…and tell him it’s the 18th variation of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Fireworks, you say. This song makes me see fireworks. It’s, like, the epitome of love.
The next day, a small bouquet of lilies on top of an aging manila folder is waiting at your door. You open the folder gingerly and gasp. Penned on the top of the vintage score in Russian, in what may well be Rachmaninoff’s own hand, is Rapsodiya na temu Paganini. A small cream card falls out, emblazoned with a now-familiar black horse.
Thanks for showing me the fireworks, too, it says.
~
“Wait,” Charles said one day, interrupting the plaintive strains of the Adagio of the Spartacus Suite. “Let me queue up a different song.”
He tapped around until he found the playlist he wanted. From the very first note, her face flashed with recognition.
“Liebestraum,” she said. “And by the sounds of it, Arthur Rubenstein.”
Charles never ceased to be amazed by her ears. It was borderline freakish.
“This came up once, totally randomly, while I was on a drive,” he told her. “I feel like there are so many songs in classical music that are…so emotional. Majestic. But most of the time, it’s me that’s doing the feeling. This song…I can almost feel how the composer—and the player—must have felt bringing it into existence.”
She looked deep in thought. Only noticing Charles’ eyes on her seemed to break her reverie. “It’s a good song,” she replied evenly.
Charles felt slightly crestfallen. It wasn’t like her to not provide a whole commentary on a classical piece. He’d expected her to wax poetic about the dynamic contrast, the pacing, the dissonant cadenza.
“Definitely.” He tried to hide his disappointment.
It was a bad day for Charles’ fingers, as he liked to say. Frustrated, he decided to take a walk around the studio as a refresher. He wondered if she was working on her score. Then he realized that he’d never actually heard her play before. Suddenly overcome with curiosity, he crept as silently as he could down the hall until he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.
She was sitting in front of a piano, but there were no stacks of messy papers on the bench or the stand, no pencil tucked behind her ear. Her eyes were closed; she looked utterly peaceful, belying the sounds of the flying arpeggios, the chords crashing like waves on the Monégasque beach, that she coaxed effortlessly out of the old instrument.
Charles felt a choking sensation grow in his chest, his throat, as the Liebestraum modulated from its playful B major, then C, E, and finally the soaring climax of its home key. She touched the final note, the simplest of simple A flats, letting it linger until the walls of the practice room sucked it away far too soon.
A tear splashed onto one of the keys. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her hoodie. Her face, no longer peaceful, looked haunted. Charles felt like a little piece of his heart had chipped off.
He tried to turn around and sneak back to his room, but she looked up, and they locked eyes. She froze.
Charles tapped softly on the door. She nodded. He opened the door, sat next to her on the piano bench.
“Charles—” she began.
“You’re incredible.” He shook his head, still in disbelief.
She hung her head. Her shoulders drooped. “I’m not.”
“You only ever talk about composition. Why didn’t you ever tell me you perform?”
Her lips flattened into a line. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
He gaped. “Why not?” This girl could put actual professionals to shame.
“It’s a long story.” she said curtly. But Charles saw her eyes fill with tears.
He put an arm around her shoulder, and felt her lean in. “Want to talk about it?” he asked gently.
She swiped across her eyes with her sleeve. “You played that song in the car,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“The truth is that when I started school, I wasn’t just studying composition,” she continued slowly. “I was actually majoring in piano performance.”
“As you should,” Charles blurted impulsively.
She gave him a watery smile. “My mom, she was pretty against the whole music thing. But my dad loved piano. He was really good himself, but I guess my grandparents were like my mom, so he just had a normal job. And most of all…” her voice quivered, “he loved the Liebestraum. So much. I listened to it constantly growing up…hearing my dad play it was probably why I started playing in the first place.”
Charles’ heart gave a painful squeeze. He dreaded where this was going.
She gave a heavy sigh. “My first year, my dad got a heart attack. At Christmas dinner. He was gone…just like that.”
“Oh, no,” Charles whispered.
“I went back to school the next semester, but I couldn’t play anymore the way I used to. So I quit. I switched my concentration to theory and composition. Honestly, I never even practice anymore, even for fun…but then you played that song in the car…”
Charles felt like an asshole. Of course he had no idea what that song meant to her. But how fucked up was it that he’d thought he was bringing her a flower…and what she saw was a knife? “I’m sorry,” he said morosely.
“It’s okay.”
“For what it’s worth,” Charles said softly, “the way you played…if heaven is really a thing…you dad got to hear exactly how much you love him today.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned in, and Charles smelled orange blossoms, felt her lips delicately brush his cheek.
“Thank you, Charles.”
~
One day, Charles tells you that he won’t be able to see you next weekend—the race weekend is in Singapore, and the drivers are heading there almost a week early for the time change. He looks almost as cut up about it as you feel.
“So I was thinking,” he says hesitantly, “maybe we could hang out more after the practice room. Only if you want.”
“Sure,” you say, trying not to betray your excitement. Or nervousness. “Did you have anything in mind?”
“Well,” Charles says, running a hand through his soft, tousled brown hair. “We could get dinner. And then I wanted to show you something out on the water.”
You laugh, because of course Charles owns a boat, and tell him so. His cheeks bloom with two patches of pink, but he looks pleased nonetheless.
Dinner is delicious, not that you could pay any attention to the plates of tortellini smothered in creamy white béchamel, the perfectly crispy, charred pizza with sprigs of arugula and prosciutto, not when Charles peeks adorably at you over the top of his wine glass, lifts his slice of pizza to toast yours, fails to correct the waiter when she calls you a “beautiful couple”. Especially not when his fingers find yours as you walk out of the restaurant, and they intertwine and stay that way as he drives you along the asphalt ribbon of the Monégasque shoreline, to the harbor where his yacht is docked.
The dying sunset stains the sky a brilliant shade of orange, fading into darkness by the time he drives the boat deeper offshore. Stars dot the sky like a smattering of freckles. The coast is brightly lit, and you point out the crowds that seem to be gathering near the harbor.
“As luck would have it,” Charles says, “a couple days in the summer, there’s a festival on the Port.”
“Is that why we’re out at sea instead of, I don’t know, enjoying the actual festival?” you tease, earning yourself a gentle poke in the ribs.
“Just wait.”
You hear the faint sound of music coming from the shore, some upbeat pop thing. Charles is fiddling with some buttons on the dashboard of the yacht. Suddenly, the those familiar inverted chords in D flat major that never fail to make you feel like you’re melting, signaling the beginning of Rhapsody, sound through the speakers on the sides of the boat. Your heart pounds. Charles wraps an arm around your waist, and takes you onto the deck as the music swells, the cellos and basses joining the violins. He points up at the sky.
And the fireworks begin.
Bursts of red, green, purple. Blazing trails of gold, like comets, exploding in a shower of glitter that crackles on the way down. You look at Charles, seeing the dazzling sparkles reflected in his eyes, and they are filled with so much longing that your own heart aches.
“They’re gorgeous,” you tell those eyes, not entirely sure you’re talking about the fireworks anymore.
“Good,” Charles says hoarsely. He tilts your jaw up with two gentle fingers. Hardly an inch away from your own, his lips move as he says in the barest of whispers, “Because now you see what I’ve been seeing…every Monday for a long, long time.”
Your lips quiver, but Charles leans in, and stills them with his own. Even though your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, you see fireworks.
~
one year later
Applause fills the air as you hit the last thundering chord of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor with a flourish. You stand, the stage lights making you feel giddy—or maybe it’s the exhilaration of finishing your senior concert—and you take your bow. The chiffon hem of your dress skims the ground as you walk off stage and are swarmed with friends and family and proud professors, but your eyes roam the crowd for just one person.
And there he is. An armful of lilies demands one of his arms, so he sweeps you close with the other. He brushes your lips with a kiss.
“Congratulations,” Charles whispers.
“Thanks,” you beam, a little teary-eyed.
“Grieg, huh?” he says. “No wonder you didn’t want to show me the program in advance.”
“It was meant to be poetic,” you laugh, and he kisses you again.
And it was. One day you sat down and counted every song you and Charles had played in his Ferrari on the way to the practice room before the night of the fireworks. Sixteen. Like the number emblazoned on his car, on the hoodies you regularly stole from his closet, on the posters you brought to his race weekends. Sixteen songs, and that concerto just happened to be the one that started it all.
notes: if you couldn’t tell….i played a lot of piano growing up. fic inspired by this post
random easter eggs:
hehe i am so stupid reference
gatacca (highly recommend)
til there is an actual fireworks show in monaco
and of course, charles actually playing the piano :’))))))) he truly contains multitudes i love him so much
#f1#f1 fandom#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#charles leclerc#charles x reader#cl16#cl16 imagine#cl16 x reader#cl16 x y/n#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc x reader
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night love confessions — matty healy
summary: after a night party, matty has the idea (or the need) to confess his love to you.
warnings: some kind of mention about get drunk, alcohol, drugs and substances (but nothing very explicit) nocturnal melancholy, sad atmosphere and some mentions of touches.
wordcounter: 3,4k
a/n: hey everybody! this is my first au and even i'm scary i really hope you enjoy and like the story, maybe then could put this into a general universe, but idk, it depends i think if it works and if the people like it. anyway, thanks for giving the chance to read it. last thing, english is not my first language so if something it's bad i apologize for that too.
hope you enjoy it 🖤
The bottles that are opened, the containers that fall to the ground, the footsteps of shoes, the music that resonates through the speakers and deafens your ears.
The group of guys you're looking at, the smile one of them gives you at the end of the track. The adrenaline when listening to the band's new song composed by your friends, the lights that make you lose, you feel everything in slow motion.
You drum your fingers on the red disposable cup, before pouring the harsh liquid down your throat and feeling the traces of the rest on your tongue. There is a silence on you, but then you return to the ring with a small scream of happiness, which perhaps multiplies the state you are by a third.
You don't know how many glasses you've had, enough so that your sobriety is hanging by a thread and the hangover of the morning with your head exploding is too evident, but you know that this time nothing else has been mixed. Last time the story didn't end too well, jumping over security fences outside an abandoned club to end up with a sprained right foot and several bruises is not something you want to repeat two weeks later.
— Does anyone know where the hell Matty has gone? — George exasperates, raising his voice over the speakers. Everyone looks at each other confused, without having a clear answer. — God, this guy is going to give me a bad headache one day. —Although he is drunk and has red eyes, he is at his most sane. — You are surprised and turn your expression into an "o".
— He was here a few moments ago, I swear. — Ross responds a while later, moving up to follow him into the crowd.
You sigh a little tired, lately it has become the same routine and with regret inside you decide that you should abandon the staring contest with the black-haired man who is a few meters in front of you.
— I'll bring him back in a moment, let me take care of this. — You pronounce with difficulty, slurring the words and pouting.
— Well, if you can't find us we're probably outside. — Brown hair appears behind George, and even though you know you know the girl, you don't remember her name. You just know that from time to time she and your friend go to some bars .
— She's right. I need to sleep right now. —Ross exclaims, running the fold of her fingers over the sockets of his eyes. — Find him and then we'll leave.
You know Matty well enough to know that when he separates from the group, there are three places he can be doing: 1) In the outside or inside courtyard smoking some kind of cigarette, it's always a different edition so you don't know what you'll find. 2) In the nearest bathroom, with a card in hand and light white tints under the nose and nails. 3) Flirt with the first person you meet at the bar, spending the little money on drinks that will later be deposited on his bed.
— And if you don't find it, what? —Adam asks, in a tone of total concern.
— I will do it, I promise.
— Just... let us know when you get home, girl. —George closes the conversation and everyone else nods at his request, shakes their heads in response and greets them with a "yes, goodbye" in the air.
You hate a little, a lot, the rock superstar life that your entire band has led, it has been like this for years, but especially since they managed to make their first album become famous so quickly, and have devastated the sales stands and the lists have them in their heads. In fact, while you're debating where to start looking for it, Girls starts playing through the speakers. Great, the world makes fun of you with good satire.
It doesn't matter that you don't have clarity to think, your body moves for you and makes its way through quite a few people, until you touch a wall that has two exits: the bathroom and the courtyard. You breathe and try to lower your level to one less, until your instinct kicks in and you know you'll find Matty smoking.
Then you go out to the inner courtyard with the frost freezing your back. Adam was right, you needed your jacket that you left at his house a few hours earlier. The wind makes your eyes turn to glass in a sense, but you don't plan on giving up when you know you're committed to finding and bringing it home in the best condition possible.
You find it almost at the end of the place, away from the main entrances, which catches your attention. He has his leather jacket over his knees, which leaves his arms unprotected despite how thin they are. He's frowning, and when you get closer you see that he's exhaling and inhaling with a thoughtful expression, there's something troubling him even though you can't figure it out.
You reach his side of him and look for a small place to sit, he still has n't realized that someone else is with him, he's still absorbed.
— No girl today? What a loser. — You wake him up and make him jump in his place. — The boys are gone.
— Shit, girl. You really scared me.— He puts his hand on his chest, exactly on his heart. He gives you a half-shot of his eyes, they're freshly red, and you grimace silently. — She's gone too.
— Who? — You cross your legs, and your fishnet stockings catch on a tile out of place. — Shit, they were new. — You moan and realize that you are freezing.
— Luckily for you, buying another one is not difficult. —Now you are the one who frowns while exhaling a considerable amount of smoke.
— Are you okay, Matty? — You don't know why you use his name, but sometimes it helps to bring him back to reality. You look at him when he shakes his head and laughs sarcastically, his curls are out of control and half of them are hanging over his forehead, but he has not bothered to fix them, his white t-shirt he has small red wine stains on it. You can't help but worry about him even if you don't know what you're really into, he's one of the people you love the most and seeing him so subdued burns you more than the glass you drank ten minutes ago. He starts to close his eyes and breathe easier, or so you think. — Hey, I'll take you home, come on.
— Honey, look at me. It's a fucking party and I'm smoking alone. — Speak in the deepest voice, seriously about the subject. Well, that hurts. — Come here. — He hits the jacket that falls on her knees so that you can rest your head there.
He knows that you will not refuse, perhaps because the jacket will keep you warm, because you are tired or because you are very busy and worried. About him you will do everything he asks. Then he drops his head there and slowly rests his legs on the pavement.
Matty's head is about to explode, and not necessarily because of the amount of cocaine he has consumed, although a significant part of it is a factor. He's grateful to have his head against the wall, although he doesn't remember how he got to that position. because he knows that otherwise he would do anything that would ruin the whole environment, no matter how small and silly it was. Lately he's screwed up more things than he's done right, but maybe this is what he longs for most in his life, that when all this terror and this endless nightmare is over (he's more convinced that it won't) you'll still be there, close to him, to support his head or lean on him.
Silence becomes your best friend over and over again. All he wants to do now is cross his hands below your waist and hold you for as long as he is allowed. But he doesn't, his hands are dirty and he couldn't afford to dirty his girl like that, he feels in the depths of his being that if he touched you even a millimeter he would ruin you to the core.
Basically the same feeling he had about himself several weeks ago, he couldn't take the responsibility of taking away all of your shine and everything that characterizes you as his favorite person. He is drugged and drunk, perhaps more than ever, but in this same hazy state he has discovered that perhaps the reason why he continues doing things without stopping is because it is a barrier to his feelings, it inhibits him from being able to think rationally and from being able to feel, It makes him believe that everything is possible, except being able to have you.
You remain motionless on his lap when you begin to close your eyes and he takes the opportunity to look at you, giving himself every detail, capturing the scene forever in his memory: look at how your locks fall on your forehead, how your chest rises and falls every time you you breathe, and the subtle smile on your lips that is the product of drunkenness that also causes a satirical laugh and then dies in its own tranquility. He also notices when you open your eyes, noticing his determined look and you raise an eyebrow in question.
— I need to die, now. Can we go now? — You whisper, also struggling to hold the moment for as many minutes as possible.
— One more and we'll leave, love. — The nickname causes a cerebral shock throughout your cortex, but you hide it with the freezing air that runs through there and you pass him the lighter that has fallen on the floor.— I'll wake you up... maybe in seven minutes? I can't count. — The two laugh and for a second they hold each other's gaze, shining and reflecting on each other.
— Promise? — You ask, and you raise your little finger.
— Promise. — He intertwines them and it's convincing enough for you that you soon go back to sleep, leaving your hand outstretched. Matty has no intention of breaking that contact, so he takes it upon himself to enjoy the seven minutes like this, usually blowing out some hair that obstructs her view of him.
When he is halfway through the fateful cigarette, he lets out the longest snort of the day. He feels the same as he did in Robbers' video. No, it's nonsense. That song was never written for you, but maybe he's relating it to others.
Oh, but it's automatic, the scene where he's on her lap in timeout, the thought that he could never let you go even if they were apart, everything he's begged for you to stay and all the times you haven't. was able to turn back. All those times when he was the cause of your suffering, when you ended up in the hospital due to his failure, when he wasn't there the day your father left, and how later you said he was fine and that it didn't matter.
Maybe you'd actually sum it up to something like I love you, don't you mind? Because nothing could happen above that, you loved Matty as if he were your other half and even if he meant suffering more than anything else, you accepted it because you preferred to have him than not. But you knew that those opportunities were nil, nothing more would happen with him and the almost kiss a few weeks ago had made it clear.
On the other hand, Matty had started to cry. The taste of the tobacco was now a mixture of salt water and nicotine.
— Time to leave. — He says it slowly, extinguishing the remains against the cement and drying the trace of his face.
They both get back together after a while with some effort. Then you extend your hand to him so you don't lose him in the crowd when you have to cross it. It takes some effort, but you manage to breathe in the fresh air and see the light from the post outside faster than you thought.
—Can I sleep at your house today? My house is...complicated. — The hands of you two let go as both begin to walk along the brick pavement of Manchester. There's a small ringing in your ears but you nod, he's not in the state to show up at his house.
— Yes. — Your direct word calm him to the point that he adopts a calm that does not allow him to see a loose cable in the street and trip over it. — You can't walk, at least not like this. — You say, reaching out to him with concern. — Here we go, big boy.
You grip his wrist tighter, trying to provide some stability, until he changes his grip and runs his hand around your waist, wrapping it around it and pulling you as close to him as he can, seeking to get you inside of him. When he moves his fingers he notices the temperature of your skin.
— You're cold, put on my jacket, please. — He brakes and looks at you defiantly, without losing that tone of chivalry.
— It's okay, we're close to my house. — You comment without paying attention to his frown. Then you see the light about to be left at the beginning of the block and break your hold under his watchful eye.
You run, always holding on to him until the central point of the park that you are crossing. Since you have his hand in yours, you spin him around a few times while neither of you can stop laughing.
They both feel like they are floating regardless of any other part of the world or any other matter. If they both touched their hearts they would discover that it is stronger than ever.
He caresses your cheek and takes the opportunity to smudge an eyelash. Then they melt into an embrace completely overflowing with desperation, love, affection, and the need to freeze there forever. Eternity in this line sounds incredible.
— I'm very glad to have you. — You murmur in his ear, and then you give his a kiss on the cheek. You don't need and don't want him to answer, so you decide to run to the door of your house and wait for him there.
Tomorrow he won't remember this, so it's okay, you tell yourself.
Tomorrow he'll remember every part of this, living it second by second, then it will all come flooding back to Matty breaking him deeply.
Then he arrives at your front door and between some silly jokes and some tripping objects, like your brother's toys or some discarded slippers, you make it to your room, although you need to use your supporting weight to carry Matty inside.
— I'll bring a glass of water and a hangover pill. — You tell him and disappear from your own room.
You go down the stairs and it seems that you also go down to reality.
What the fuck are you doing? What has happened and why hasn't you stopped sooner? You put your hand to your head in frustration and drink water, then fill another glass and look for the pills. Tomorrow you will not only have discomfort from the drink.
You return to the bedroom, opening and closing the door carefully. The scene petrifies you, he is sitting on the white back of your bed, taking up as much space as he can. Then he looks at you, and smiles at you as if he were a child who had just been caught being mischievous. You feel like you could die of lovey-dovey right now.
— I'm going to the bathroom to put on my pajamas. — You open the closet and take out the largest T-shirt you can find, then the pijamas that are clean. — Use this. — You stretch out your arm and he catches the shirt along with a pair of shorts, internally you wish he would finish before you leave the bathroom.
Being used to the routine, taking off your clothes and removing your makeup doesn't take you more than five minutes, just enough for him to scan every corner of the room after changing with quite some effort. He smiles when he sees the box full of Polaroids of you and the entire band, and then feels like he's dying a little more when he sees the self titled car at the head of your furniture.
You open the bathroom door and he needs to swallow hard to keep from stumbling. Even in your pink heart pijamas you look just as spectacular as you do in your black miniskirt and boots.
—You seem very....funny— You scan it and you laugh when you see how short the clothes you gave him are. Then you realize that the mattress is not here, but you don't want to go out and look for another one. —Does it bother you if we sleep together? —It's nothing you haven't done, but it still requires a certain degree of difficulty to ask.
He denies sweetly and moves away as far as he can when you get on your bed, there is an unbearable barrier between the two of you.
So, he lets it out. Something internally takes over him.
— You are my favorite person in the whole world, my love. — He try to whisper it because you force yourself to believe that he thinks you're sleeping. He doesn't manage to whisper it anyway, and you hear his voice begin to crack and his heart begin to pour out. Your greatest fear comes to light when the way he speaks condemns it, you've seen too many movies to know what's coming.
No. He can't do this to you, you can't bear that tomorrow he will forget about this entire night and you must pretend that for a moment it makes sense that he also loves you the same way you do. You want to believe that he dreams of you too.
— Don't do it, Matty. Please do not do it. — You say to him with all your strength, while a swirl of water begins to grow in the sockets of your eyes. —Just... don't.
— Why? — He whimpers and staggers in his speech, he's taking it all on herself not to show you that he's breaking into miles of pieces.
— Because you're high, very high. Tomorrow you won't remember anything about this night and you won't be able to pretend this never happened. — You turn slowly, and then you wipe away the first tear that runs on his eyelid. — I really wish things could be different and that you would make this confession when you're not high.
For a moment he stops talking and you think you've won the battle and that there is a temperance that calms the threat. But he falls apart.
— I love you. I've always loved you and I can't stand another damn minute without telling you. — Tears simply fall down both of their cheeks and soak the pillowcases. You shake your head non-stop in a negative way.
He can't just let go now, at the moment when you're most emotionally vulnerable, so that tomorrow he can go off with the first girl he finds. In the long run it has always been like this, he gets over it and you are still there with a broken heart and forever devoted to him.
—Go to sleep, Matty. — Your request breaks him a little more, the tone destroys him although it is not very strong. — Do not make it harder.
He shifts uneasily, but he also understands that he can't force you to feel the same way. What he doesn't know is that if he just said he wouldn't leave tomorrow, you would run into his arms.
But he doesn't do it, nor does he close his eyes to fall asleep. He's there, watching your every move still. You sigh, unable to bear it anymore, maybe tomorrow you will suffer from it but maybe if you let go now it will be easier to overcome.
— I love you too. The same way you do it. — You kiss his head one last time and murmur one last goodbye before turning to sleep. — And it's been an ordeal for me all this time, because you feel it more when you're high and I feel it more when I'm sober.
Apparently your brain works fast and allows you to fall into some dream where this whole story is happier before reality can attack you.
And that's how they finally fall asleep, the both with their hearts in each other's palms, with more scars than before.
Finally, everything gets comically better when you wake up a few hours later and there's no sign of Matty in your entire room.
Just make out that the glass of water is empty and the pill is not there. You laugh sadly before going to sleep without letting yourself cry again, he doesn't remember anything from the night before.
i won't apologize for this. however, thanks for reading <3 let me know what you thought or if you liked it.
Etiquetas: @cxcx75
#matty healy#matty x reader#matty healy x reader#matty healy x oc#matty healy x you#matty healy fic#matty healy fanfiction#the 1975#1975 band#I watched robbers video five times to do this#i cried#so much#first writing#first fanfic
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ohne leuchtturm
➝ request: could you write something angsty where the reader and toto had a previous relationship but broke up/divorced due to him never being home and then one night [...] they encounter each other at a bar in her hometown
➝ word count: 2,3k
➝ warnings: alcohol consumption, angst and sad toto
➝ author’s note: well, is like miley says, "nothing breaks like a heart".
Sitting alone in a corner of the Esterházykeller, you were sipping a pint of beer without much interest. You probably looked ridiculous, being alone at a bar, but you didn’t care. Your mind was not with you as you sat inside that stuffy pub in the heart of Vienna.
You were thinking of the night you first visited that bar, so many years ago.
It was one of those hot and rainy summers in the city, perfect for staying at home, reading a book, or cooking yourself dinner. It was your favorite way to get your mind off of the constant grind of numbers and figures you dealt with at your day job.
However, some colleagues convinced you to go out for a night instead of spending another quiet evening at home. They’d picked one of the oldest bars in the city, and you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to get out for the night.
"How naive", you thought to yourself, taking a sip of beer.
You remember it being very warm outside that night, years ago, and the rain had made it humid, and it was even warmer in the crowded bar.The fans scattered across the ceiling of the establishment did little to cool the place. Loud conversation mingled with laughter and the sound of mugs clinking and cutlery scraping on plates. As you followed Fritz and Lena around the bar, you started to wonder if that was a good idea, especially after someone that almost knocked you over with their elbow, sloshing the mug of beer you had in your hand.
You caught yourself and turned around, catching sight of the tall man that was now responsible for the front of your blouse being soaked with icy liquid. Irritated, you were about to say something unkind to him when your eyes met his. As he apologized, you felt like the lively pub around you had gone silent, and all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating in your chest.
— Would you like another beer?
You sighed as your attention turned back to the present. Ten years later, you were sitting in the same bar, with the same beer, and the same tall man standing in front of you.
— Toto?
— Good evening, Y/N — he said, with a small smile.
— What are you doing here? — you asked, dryly. You weren’t sure you actually cared.
— I'm visiting the children — he replied, hesitating for a few seconds — Well, visiting Rosi. She's in university now.
— Studying Biotechnology, right?
— Yes. And English literature.
You smiled.
— What about Ben?
— He’s in California, studying business.
— Is he preparing to be your successor?
He laughed.
— Definitely not, and you know that.
Of course you did.
After your first disastrous interaction, Toto made sure to make up for the embarrassment he’d caused you by ordering your another pint of beer, as well as a ride back to your flat. The initial kindness turned into an exchange of phone numbers. A few phone calls later, you met up with him again, in the exact same bar.
Before you realized it, you’d fallen completely in love with his wide smile, his deep voice, and his brown eyes, especially the way they showed so much emotion. Toto was the one, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.
Your companion. Your partner. Your love.
Until he wasn't anymore.
— How are you? — he asked, sitting down in the seat across the booth from you.
— I'm fine — you murmured, looking down at your beer mug.
— Still working at the bank?
— Yes, still at the bank. And you, still flying around?
Toto smiled sadly.
— Yes, still flying around.
You weren’t sure what to say. Looking down at your half-empty mug of beer, an ache came to your chest. “Why would I expect him to have changed?”, you thought, pursing your lips.
You weren’t some naive little girl. You knew from the time you first met him that Toto was a busy man with a demanding job that entailed more days traveling than not, flying all around the world, working on the project that he’d said was “the most important of my life”. You accepted it initially, without hesitation, choosing to accompany him, traveling with the team to races around the world. It was worth it for you to give him your support, and more importantly, your love.
However, at some point, how you felt about the F1 circus changed, and how you felt about his team changed. You no longer felt like they were a family that had taken you in, but your competition for the attention of the man you loved, and dedicated so much to.
It was a fight that you knew you were going to lose, but you insisted on fighting anyway.
— Did you expect another answer? — Toto asked quietly, making you look up at him.
— Honestly? — you shot back, your eyes returning to the whitish foam in the mug — No.
You’d never been good at lying.
— I thought you’d have gotten better at lying since we broke up, Y/N.
— I'm not lying.
— Yes you are. I know this because you never look me in the eye when you lie to me.
— It’s very presumptuous of you to assume that you know whether I’m lying or not, Torger — you replied, your voice filled with more acid than you’d intended. However, that only made Toto smile.
— You really haven't changed at all, Y/N — he muttered, before signaling to a passing waiter and ordering two more pints of beer.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between you. As much as the bar was crowded and stuffy, you felt an uncomfortable shiver run through your body. You felt transparent, like Toto could read you like a book that he casually picked off of a shelf after years of being placed there. You felt like, even years later, he knew every word and every paragraph of you.
When the waiter brought out the fresh glasses of beer, Toto thanked him before taking a long sip. As he set his mug down, he had a little foam on his upper lips, which made you smile.
— You’ve got something there — you muttered, pointing to your mouth.
— Oh yeah — he said, wiping his mouth — Thanks. At least now you can say that you've seen me with a mustache.
— A rare sight, considering you're incapable of growing a beard.
— I'm not incapable, I just don't like it — Toto answered — And you know that.
— I think you should try it again. It could make you look more handsome.
He smirked.
— You mean you still think I'm handsome?
— If I didn't, I wouldn't have stayed with you for six years, would I?
— You could have stayed with me for my personality.
— No — you said, taking a sip of beer.
— Or my performance in bed — he said quietly, a smirk on his lips.
You rolled your eyes, taking another sip. You could deny it, but it was pointless, especially when Toto knew you so well. You had stayed with him for his handsome features, and for his kind, thoughtful personality, but it was the way he made you feel in bed that made you stay long after your relationship had become torture.
Toto knew your body like no one else. He knew how and where to touch you, to kiss you, to make you feel like you’d gone to heaven. He knew what every little sound, every whisper and gasp meant from you, he knew all of your little quirks. He always knew exactly when you were about to climax, because of the way you would dig your nails into his shoulder, and he used this knowledge to incredible effect.
And then, he became hell.
There was more silence at the table, the two of you staring at each other, searching for the right words for that moment.
— You still haven't told me the truth.
— About what?
— If you expected me to give another answer about my work.
You sighed.
— Yes, Toto, I expected another answer.
— Did you expect me to step away from Mercedes?
— I was hoping you realized you could be — you hesitated, the word stuck in your throat. You wanted to say, you needed to say it. But after four years, it no longer made sense. He had moved on, just as you had moved on. However, you couldn't help but look back.
— Could be what?
— Using your time better — you finally said, looking back down at your mug, which was already nearly empty. Toto smiled sadly at you again.
— You still think Mercedes is a waste of time, don't you? — he asked.
— I just wish you could have been content with sticking to one role — you shot back.
— You know that…
— I know, I know, that you were never one to sit in an office — you interrupted — I know. I was your partner for six years and I know how restless you get. But as much as I admire that about you, I abhor it, because that's precisely what robs people of you when they need you.
— Do you think the team takes me away from other people?
— No. You do it yourself — you replied emphatically.
Toto looked at his mug thoughtfully. The conversation had veered into dangerous territory for both of you. It had been painful to realize after a long time that you always put your relationship with Toto first, but you weren’t his priority. Even years after the painful end of your relationship, you still felt like it was a wound that was open and bleeding.
After all, you still loved him.
You loved his dimple-framed smile, his deep brown eyes, and his unkempt hair. You loved his voice, the way his accent danced with his words, and you loved his laugh. You loved his bad jokes, his witty observations and his far-fetched ideas.
You loved him.
— Can I ask you something? — he murmured, his eyes still fixed on the mug.
— Yeah?
— Would you be able to ever forgive me, Y/N? — Toto said, raising his eyes to look into yours
— For what?
— For taking myself away from you?
You felt your heart pounding again.
You had waited a long time for those words, almost an eternity. But now, you got no satisfaction out of hearing it — it only made you more sad.
— I don't think apologizing to me is the way to go.
— Isn't an apology what you wanted to hear, Y/N? — he asked.
— Maybe, but what's the point now? — you said, feeling your throat tighten.
— But, I want to fix things...
— You're four years late, Torger — you said, cutting him off. You felt your eyes start to sting at the realization that it was too little, too late. The conversation you were having with him, calm and civil as it was, needed to have taken place on the warm summer night that your relationship imploded, but neither of you were ready to have this conversation back then, or at any time in the last four years. You weren’t sure you were ready now.
— Y/N…
— We should have sat down a long time ago and defined what we wanted from each other, and from our relationship. We should have been more mature and more rational instead of yelling at each other over everything. But, if you ask me, I'm sure even if we had talked, it would have ended in the same way — you said, trying to keep your voice even as you held back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You didn't want to cry, but at the same time, it was like your heart was begging you to let out all the pain you've been carrying since the day you left Toto's apartment, never to return.
He stared at you for long seconds, before drinking what was left of beer in the mug.
— We would have been married if we'd talked.
— I couldn’t marry someone who is already married to their work — you snapped.
— It’s not too late for a divorce…
You laughed.
— You would never give up the team, Toto.
— For you, I would — he said, making your stomach churn — For you, I'd give up the team, all of the travel, the busy schedule. I would give up the houses in England, Switzerland, and Monaco. I’d go back on my decision to not have any more children and give you as many as you wanted to have. I would give up everything for your love.
A tear trickled down your face. You quickly wiped it away, trying to bring yourself back to the present. That was hypothetical, not real. You would never get back together, it was a fact. But knowing that Toto would be capable of all that made your heart beat faster.
Maybe your love didn't go away, but was just buried under so many years of sadness and frustration. Maybe it was still inside you, hibernating, waiting for the time when the winter between you would come to an end and the spring flowers would finally bloom. Maybe he just needed that conversation.
Grabbing your bag, you got up from the table, your face fixed in a serious expression.
— Are you leaving?
— I don't want to be out too late.
— Do you want a ride?
— No… no, I’m fine. — you replied, while looking for your wallet — How many beers have you had? I wouldn’t get into a car with you.
Toto smiled.
— I suppose that’s fair.
After placing a twenty Euro note on the dark wood of the table, you were about to turn towards the stairs leading outside when you felt his hand close gently around your wrist.
— Y/N.
— Yeah?
— If you still want this… I still want this.
Giving you a pained little smile, you could only say one thing.
— Goodbye, Torger.
#toto wolff#wlffog#toto wolff x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#formula 1 one shot#toto wolff angst#oneshotwlff
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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ MEMORIES - lee minho ࿐ྂ
pairing: exbf!minho x gn!reader
genre: angst
warnings: toxic relationship, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, reader is very rude (can you blame them?) and yeah general sad behaviors
wc: 3.1k
synopsis: you loved the song “Memories” but it hits different when you start to realize that the song is talking about your current relationship with your ex boyfriend.
a/n (1): this fic is inspired by this. Listen to “Memories” by Conan Gray before starting. English is not my first language so please let me know if I made some mistakes!
It’s been a couple of month,
that’s just about enough time
for me to stop crying when i look at all the pictures
now I kinda smile, I haven’t felt that in a while
Once you set foot in the apartment, you immediately regretted the choice. You already noticed that when you couldn’t stop shaking when you turned the keys in the lock. It had only been two months, yet it seemed that time had never stopped. You thought you’d never come into that place again, but you were there now, in that outdated entrance. Dusty sofa, messy kitchen and locked bedroom. You thought you’d never come into that place again, you were sure, but you were there now. The apartment was exactly as you remembered it, exactly as you remembered it before you ended your relationship with Minho.
With the box in hand you continued your walk towards the sofa, but each step corresponded to a stab in the chest. Every important moment was enclosed in those 4 walls. In that house you could retrace all the steps of your past relationship. Although the wounds were not yet fully healed, you also felt a strong sense of acceptance and peace. Each photograph, still carefully hung, made you unintentionally bruise a smile.
You miss him. You know that. But there’s no going back. Even though he was the best thing in life, you couldn’t go back.
You put the box down before closing your eyes and feeling the atmosphere. The rain that lightly slammed on the glass, the heating fan that started to work and the indelible smell of autumn leaves still imprinted on your clothes. If it wasn’t for the purpose of your return, you would have said it was one of the quietest moments in your life.
It’s late, I hear the door
Bell ringing, and it’s pouring
I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance
you just wanna talk, and I can’t turn away a wet dog
Before you could do anything else, a loud noise interrupted the moment and you were forced to approach the door. Someone rang the bell, and the first thing you did was cross your fingers.
Please don’t be him.
When you opened the door, the new world built in recent months collapsed completely. Seeing those familiar brown eyes, you also saw all the pain that that man made you feel. You would also retrace the day when you promised that for nothing in the world you would give him another chance. There’s no way in hell you’d let the man you loved the most in the world scratch the armor of your heart again. What you had been through was still hard to swallow, and God knows how many times you prayed for the man in front of you to leave you alone. But apparently, the latter didn’t even seem to care. You wanted to slam the door in his face, but nothing could be compared to the way he hurt you. And so you did.
«please y/n» the boy took the door before you could close it completely. «I-I just want to talk- please»
Even though you wanted to yell at him, tell him how much you hated him and get him out of your life for good, you just couldn’t.
You couldn’t do it.
You noticed how thin he was, the bags and dark circles under his swollen eyes and his clothes completely wet because of the storm that had been falling undaunted for two hours. With the empty bottle of soju in his hand, Minho kept looking at you and wondering if you felt what he was feeling.
He certainly felt remorse and shame. But the most fragile thing was repentance. He was so sorry for what he did to you. He had ruined your life and ruined the relationships you were going to have from there. He would have done anything to go back. Even quit his job if it was necessary. But he couldn’t. He had to accept the truth as it was. He had to accept that there would never be a future for you again.
But please, don’t ruin this for me
Please, don’t make it harder than it already is
I’m trying to get over this
«please y/n» Minho approached you. And you were there. Unmoved, hoping that everything that was going on was just happening in your head and that that was another nightmare you’d wake up from.
«y/n, i just want to-» «don’t you dare to touch me» you shook your ex-boyfriend’s hand, but inevitably the door was wide open and you were definitely too far away to close it. His eyes were hooked to yours, and as much as it hurt, you couldn’t stop looking at him. It was so weird to see him like that. And even though it was only two months later, you couldn’t recognize him. It was as if he had let go, as if he had put his health in second place.
Minho started getting closer, and every step of the way, you took one back.
"There’s no way in hell you’d give him another chance" was the only thought in your body.
«c-can we talk?»
«i don’t want to listen to you» you tried to say. «give me only 5 minutes, please» he took your hands and squeezed them, but you didn’t do anything to stop him. You only hoped that your eyes would speak louder and that they would get Minho kicked out of your apartment. And it was weird to think that little house was all yours now. To think that no more than two months ago you shared it with the man you hoped would stay by your side forever. Or rather, with the man who promised to stay with you forever.
I wish that you would stay in my memories
But you show up today just to ruin things
I wanna put in the past ‘cause I’m traumatized
but you’re not letting me do ‘cause tonight
You decided to step away from the edge of the door and go to the kitchen. You didn’t want to lower your guard and show weakness in front of him. You had done it so many times and now you had neither the courage nor the will to do it, you had many weaknesses and Minho knew them all. But now you didn’t mean for him to penetrate your emotions. You were sick of his toxic side and you were so happy to be free of it. Then why did you feel a strong grip on your heart every time you crossed his gaze?
«only 5 minutes and you’ll n-never see me again, but p-please give me 5 minutes» Minho slowly walked into the kitchen but didn’t come near you. Despite the alcohol in his system, he knew he didn’t have to come near you to make you listen. Minho knew all the crap you felt for him, he knew all the pain he had made you feel and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you again.
Meanwhile, you were there, your mind retracing every second of your past relationship and all the mistakes you both made. Your eyes that begged you to let out tears and your hands that didn’t even ask your permission, on the contrary, started shaking like leaves and you didn’t even notice. He was the past, and you would do anything to make sure he wasn’t in your present.
you’re all drunk in my kitchen, curled in a fetal position
to busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say
“I wish that you would stay in my memories”
in my memories, stay in my memories
«get out Minho, you are drunk, and i don’t want to have this conversation when you are definitely not sane» before letting it continue you corrected yourself. «in fact, I don’t want to talk to you and that’s it» The man in front of you frowned and it seemed that he also was struggling to hold back tears.
And you turned around because seeing him like that made you think you were the architect. It was your fault that the most beautiful relationship you had ever had was completely dissolved. "It’s all my fault, all my fault, mine, mine" was the only thought that came up every time you saw his tears.
You didn’t deserve to feel this way after what he made you feel. If everything was gone, it was because of him.
«please» Minho knelt down. He knelt before you for the second time. The first was always in this apartment, exactly one week after you moved in.
"You probably would have preferred me to ask you at another time and not in the new kitchen that is still dirty and needs fixing. But ever since I bought this ring, I can’t help myself, and I need to ask. y/n l/n, I never believed in forevers, but it’s been 5 years since we’ve been together and you’re the reason I started to believe that something can actually last forever. You know, I’ve always been undecided, but one thing I’m sure of, y/n. You’re the person I want by my side forever, you’re the person I love, and you’ll always be everything I need. And I want to live forever more moments like this with you. And I’m asking you here, in the dust and the boxes, to marry me. Give me the honor of continuing to believe in forevers with you"
Too bad that forever was very short.
«You know it hurts? It hurts to see you here after 2 months since we broke up» you had decided to look at him but your eyes had stopped fighting and now your cheeks were wet. «And what’s even more fun is that I was well again. I had finally managed to get you out of my mind and continue my life. I had managed to make you only a memory. And I» your hand violently cast away tears. It was hard to talk, but if he wanted to talk, then you’d make sure you had the last word. «I only hoped that you would remain in my memories»
«but I don’t want to remain your memory y/n» Minho almost screamed but from his voice you managed to perceive despair not anger. «y/n, I was like this when I asked you to marry me, remember?» the boy got up and knelt before you again. But this time he managed to take your hands and you once again did nothing.
«This was the ring that you gave me. I-I still have it, see?» Minho raised a hand in front of your face and the first thing your eyes fell on was the silver ring you gave him on your fifth anniversary.
«I told you I would never take it off. I told you I would keep it on my deathbed too» the boy still took your hands.
«Minho you’re raving, stop-»
«I still have 4 minutes, listen to me» his eyes did not go away from yours. But as much as you wanted to be strong, your legs were about to give out, and all those moments that Minho was making you voluntarily remember made you fragile. Maybe even too much.
«Do you know why I still have it? Because it is the only thing I have left of you. I have nothing left y/n. Even your perfume has completely left my clothes. I have nothing left. And I need you, just like I told you when I proposed» The boy got up before continuing, but his hands did not leave yours that he was not going to stop shaking. «I know that what I have done is unforgivable-» «if you know then why are you here?» You tried to say, but he interrupted you again.
«Because I don’t want to give up. I can’t live without you anymore y/n. I stopped doing all the things we did together because the pain is too much to bear. Soonie is always waiting for you at the door and Dori is always on the left side of the bed. And it’s heartbreaking y/n. It’s heartbreaking to know that you won’t walk through that door or that you won’t be on that side of the bed anymore. I have tried to go further, to think of something else or to know someone, but how can I concentrate on a new person when you are the only person who constantly occupies my thoughts? You are the only person I love, the only person who makes me feel alive. Y/n you are my light and since you are not there, I have only darkness around me»
Minho stopped so unexpectedly that you were paralyzed for a second. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Every word he said meant a punch in the face.
now I can’t say “Goodbye”
if you’ll stay here the whole night
you know it’s to find an end to something that you keep beginning
over and over again
«Why didn’t you try to protect that light then? Why did you prefer to fucking blow on it at any moment?» You pushed him away, he was so close to your body that you couldn’t breathe. And you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know whether to scream, keep crying, throw him away, or just sit and talk to him.
Minho, however, did not answer, he continued to scrutinize you, also completely tired from the tears. He was silent, perhaps because he was looking for the right words to continue or maybe because he simply had nothing to say.
«you’re so selfish» you started saying. You said it so quietly that you thought he didn’t hear it, but he was actually just waiting for you to go on. «you have continued to tell me how much you have been bad, how much I have made you suffer, how much you have done everything in order to go on, how much you can’t live anymore, but you have not minimally thought about how did i feel, how much did I suffer?» Your finger hit his chest repeatedly as you emphasized the "you".
«I know what I did is unforgivable» again. "Maybe you didn’t understand" you thought. And you were tired. Fed up with the fact that he hadn’t looked at reality yet.
«you cheated on me Minho» you shouted hoping that it would hurt less. Hoping that the wound would not open quickly. But you also felt satisfaction when you noticed that the statement hurt him more. Minho walked away slowly but without looking away from you. His body had also begun to tremble. And you were at least grateful that the pain was mutual. The only difference was that you felt anger and disappointment, but he felt a strong sense of disgust with himself. He knew he had broken the most precious thing in the world, but he didn’t think hearing it had that kind of impact.
«How could I forgive you after such a thing?»
I promise that the ending always stays the same
so there’s no good reason in make-believing
that we could ever exist again
«Let’s start all over again» Minho tried everything for everything, but a part of him knew what the answer would have been. «are you kidding?» They were the only words that came out of your mouth before you left.
You couldn’t believe it. Once again he couldn’t respect your limits. Once again he had crossed the line that you had barely drawn.
«I need you y/n» you turned again and your arms embraced you throughout your waist, maybe to seek some comfort. «and I need you to leave me alone» you didn’t even try to drive away the tears. What was the point anyway?
«y/n, i-i love you and if we tried-» «there is no "we" Minho! There will never be a "we" because you decided to ruin everything!» no longer mattered to you. Even if he saw you crying or screaming or despairing, it wouldn’t have changed anything. And if there was one thing you learned especially after your relationship with Minho, it was that you couldn’t keep it all inside because then you would explode. Just like at that moment. You fell to the ground and with your eyes closed you hoped again that everything was just a dream. A nightmare.
«Go away Minho» you begged him again. But he had another plan.
I can’t be your friend, can’t be your lover
can’t be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love
with somebody other than me
He sat before you and took your hands again. «I still want you in my life. I know it’s too much to bear but we can remain friends for a while. We can stay in touch and-» for the nth time that night you interrupted him. «friends? Minho how can I be your friend if every time I look at you I only see disgust» you tried to free yourself from the grip but it was all useless because you felt too weak.
«don’t do this to me» Minho cried again. He cried and he didn’t even do anything to stop. He was just looking at you. And a small part of him, a very small part of him, was hoping that you could feel mercy to see him like this.
«I can no longer have you in my life Minho. I must go on, we must go on»
«how can I go on when you are the reason why I will never fall in love again» he was more serious, probably because he wanted you to understand it 100%. But as time went on, the more he heard your answers, his hopes slowly drifted away. There was nothing left in his soul but a huge void. He shattered your heart into a million pieces, and you probably still had a hard time picking them all up. He couldn’t go back, he couldn’t change. Everything he did was irreversible and Minho finally figured it out.
«My light has gone out definitively» the phrase caught you by surprise and you looked at him immediately. You no longer saw sadness on his face, but only a great and profound resignation. It’s like nothing ever happened and he wrapped you in a hug. A hug as warm as cold because it would probably be the last.
«Thank you for making me believe in forevers» he cupped your cheeks and his thumbs gently removed your tears. «but I think that from now on I won’t believe in it anymore», a slight smile hinted before continuing.
«I will love you forever and you will always be the only owner of my heart» a kiss on the forehead was the last touch that Minho gave you.
And without adding anything else, he stood up and walked to the door and you followed him slowly. You couldn’t believe it. Was it over? You must have felt relieved, especially after everything he said to you. Then why did you feel this great weight on your heart?
«You know Minho, not only you lost your light that day» Minho turned to the sound of your voice and opened his eyes a little.
«you were my sun» Still with tears in your eyes, you smiled at him.
«I am sorry for all the pain that I have provoked you, but I beg you, make that light shines again. There is someone out there who will take care of it, certainly better than me» he said.
Once he turned around, you closed the door and you were ready to finally close that chapter of your life. That night was the last time you spoke to Lee Minho, but it was also the first time in months that you felt free.
You were ready to shine again.
a/n (2): OMG HI HOW ARE YOU??? It’s been so long since the last time I posted and I’m so sorry for my inactivity. I didn’t have much motivation to write during the last few months so I preferred to take a rest. Btw, I really hope you enjoyed my new work and I’m not that kind of person but I’d really appreciate if you could like and reblog it 🫶🏻. I’d also really appreciate some opinions about it. This took me so long but it’s personally one of my favorite. School break is over in less than 4 days and idk how much active I will be but I’m always on Tumblr. Feel free to contact me or anything! Thank you so much for reading, your support helps me so much. Have a nice day/night ❤️
#Spotify#bang chan#bang chris#han jisung#hwang hyunjin#i.n fluff#skz angst#maxident#skz gifs#felix lee#case 143#lee know#lee minho#lee know fluff#lee know angst#lee know fic#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#skz jisung#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#lee yongbok#kim seungmin#seungmin x reader#yang jeongin#yang jeongin x reader#lee know oneshot#stray kids fic
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"So what do ye eat then, when ye get the choice?" Soap is opening two bottles of beer handing one over to Ghost. He's clueless about what to cook for dinner, might as well ask Simon for some input.
"Chicken and rice. Or I order something." Ghost's tone is nonchalant as he studies the label of the beer he was just handed and Soap decides immediately that he's not gonna follow the plain suggestion actually. He's on leave and deserves some flavour in his food, thank you very much.
"Single malt whisky cask matured?" Ghost' sounds slightly disbelieving. "That is very Scottish.", or disapproving, who knew with the English.
So Soap just snorts, "Had to get ye some of the local stuff, eh? If ye behave ah'll make sure we get some of the beer with tea in for ye."
At that Simon, who was sniffing his beer, looks up, pure horror in his eyes and Soap's snort evolves into a full-on cackle.
He catches himself a moment later, inspecting the almost pouting look behind the mask and decides to drop the topic for now. Instead, he raises his bottle at Simon, "To leave, aye?".
Ghost does the same, their bottles clinking.
"Cheers."
"Slàinte Mhath."
Crisp and cold. Fuck he'd missed beer. Missed a lot of things during that last OP. Food that tasted like actual food was one, bringing him back to his original line of questioning. It shouldn't be surprising that Ghost is not into cooking. He's the only person Soap has ever seen eating anything from the mess with true enthusiasm. Sorts his MREs by how much he likes them too when he thinks no one is looking. Always eating the best first.
"Not much of a cook then?" he keeps his tone light and innocent while sipping his beer. Trying to observe Simon's reactions without making him feel watched.
"I can handle meat," There's a stupid smirk traded between them and Soap would roll his eyes if he didn't have to reign himself in, immediately set ablaze by the stupid joke.
"Learned at a butchers before I joined." Ghost offers up by way of explanation, sounding almost sad. Something must've happened there, something that had Simon ending up in the force. Something that led to him becoming Ghost.
"Well perfect, I'm not terrible but I do handle meat way better in the bedroom." Soap winks at him and this time, to make sure the innuendo lands painfully enough to pull Ghost out of his head.
It does and earns him an exasperated look. Might have convinced him if those brown eyes weren't full of fondness.
He's gonna leave Ghost with the belief that he's not learning to see behind the mask for a little longer: Wants him to feel comfortable. No need to divulge that his tone clearly betrayed that he's got no idea how to cook apart from putting some meat into a pan and put all his hope into some cook in bags. Lots of people couldn't cook, it wasn't a big deal.
Only that it is not just that. From the few things he's told Soap about himself, it makes sense, in a sad way.
Simon, who confronts being gay like being in battle, all hyper-masculine energy focused on fighting through all the hurtful stereotypes and insults his father planted in his head, probably never got to do a lot of things that weren't 'manly'. Makes him wonder where the needle skills come from but only for a split second before he decides he's gonna do something about this then.
"So what is yer favourite food then?"
"Don't really 'ave one." the stoic bastard answers and Soap has to think about the MREs but also has no trouble believing that that is a luxury the other man doesn't allow himself to ponder. Thinks he doesn't deserve it.
Not that'll stop him. Quite the opposite, now he's motivated.
"Alright, anythin ye could be doin with right now?"
He watches Ghost's eyes dart through the kitchen seemingly looking for a clue. Bouncing of cabinets and shelves before he takes a swig of his beer.
"No." he finally answers, sounding like he's withdrawing into himself again. For fucks sake.
Soap smiles at him hiding his exasperation away before it can reach his face, doesn't need his emotions to make this harder on both of them.
"Well too bad, yer at ma mercy." He lets his smile dip into something devilish and revels in the note of alarm in Simon's lovely eyes. It's quickly replaced with confusion as Soap presses a knife into his hands. He stands there, looking for all accounts like a very misplaced ghoul. Very deadly but also kinda endearing.
"Ye can cut the onion, garlic, are chilis fine with ye? If so, cut two of those too and make sure ye wash yer hands after tha'.
They work in silence for a moment, Ghost's dutifully following Soap's command without any complaints. When Soap begins to sear the meat he explains what he's doing and asks for input from Ghost. He's rewarded with warm surprise on the mostly masked features before Ghost starts talking, softer than his usual tone when he's guiding Soap through something job-related, becoming almost reverent when he sees Soap adjust to what he just said. And Soap tries to be careful with his usual ribbing jokes, not wanting to disturb the equilibrium that is Ghost relaxing in his flat.
When the other ingredients are added he takes over again. Talking the lieutenant through the process. Explaining his steps when he knows why they're important and freely admitting defeat when he doesn't.
They drink their beers and cook, Ghost once more following every step that Soap lays out for him and Soap silently trying to impress him. Not that he was gonna admit that to either himself or anyone else.
"Who taught you all tha'?", they're just waiting for the pasta now, the sauce down and bubbling away on low heat, leaning against each other, Soaps head resting on Ghost's shoulder. Outright domestic.
"Ma grannie," Soap smiles fondly at the memory of the tiny woman with her sincere blue eyes. "Told me being a lad was no excuse and Ah'd better know ma way around a kitchen for ma future burd." he winks at Ghost who goes surprisingly red surprisingly fast clearly visible even behind the mask. "When Ah told her Ah'm a buftie she doubled down. Ian she said, refused to call me John ye see forever angry tha' ma da went with the anglicised version, anyways, Ian she said if ye're bringing home another man one of ye will need to know how to cook or for all yer gay love ye'll focking starve." he can almost hear hear as his accent gets thicker and something between wild joy and bottomless sorrow tears through his chest at the memory.
There's a beat of silence before a weird noise breaks it. It's a rough quick sound and it takes Soap a second to realise that Simon just snorted.
"Well thank fuck for grandma MacTavish and her foresight!" he pulls his almost empty beer bottle into the air dramatically and they toast again.
Soap's smile is wide, imagining what his nan's reaction to Ghost would've been.
They might have gotten on entirely too well.
#ghostsoap#simon ghost riley#soapghost#cod mwii#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#cod mw2#cod#cod hc#I'll be probably putting that in one of my fics on ao3 at some point#but we'll see#enjoy the domestic thoughts#also no soap will never again stop with the “meat handling” jokes in bed#simon regrets ever telling him#and proceeds to shut him up with said skills (not the ones he learned during his apprenticeship)
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