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dontexpectmuch · 3 days

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Jude with a mechanical engineering student, and she's working on f1 and is a good friend of the drivers and jude gets jealous and hard launches at a race? She works for redbull and is friends with the real Madrid guys, ty, God bless

jude is aware of how much attention he gets, no matter where he goes or whom he talks to. so many people shy away from talking to him due to all the eyes that were on him, yet he tries to stay positive and look at the bright side of the picture. as a rising star, it can be hard to meet someone that would willingly hide their relationship from the world, though when he got to know you, he felt like his prayers have had finally been answered.

it was the miami grand prix he had been invited to, ferrari have shown their interest about his appearance multiple times and when his other friends finally had the time to come along, he immediately went to the race and enjoyed his time there.

it was also the place where he met the cute engineering student that was walking out of the rivals garage, cute cap with the official team shirt on, baggy pants and a book in hand. he sneaked away from the group and followed you to the water fountain in the middle of the two garages, desperately trying to look cool yet uninterested.

so when you two fall into a conversation [slight argument] about the team and who would win the race, jude knew that he had to keep in touch with you, exactly what he did.

now, two years later, the two of you have been in a private and secret relationship, something both of you enjoyed at the beginning. the relationship blossomed quietly, only his most trusted friends knew about it, same with you. having an intelligent partner who works for one of the best sports team ever is something that jude is incredibly proud [and turned on] of, it’s like a match made in heaven. no one could disturb your little bubble of happiness and peace, and you would like to keep it that way as long as you can.

but these days, jude really wants to post about his relationship, just to mark his territory. just to let all of those sneaky, weird, [and attractive, fuck] drivers know that their ‘friend’ slash engineer was off the market.

especially now, when all you talk about is the garage and the people you work with.

“well, and then i told max to-“

you immediately stop talking when you hear jude let out an annoyed sigh, eyes wide as you look at your boyfriend.

the atmosphere around you is quite comfortable, you’d say, or at least it is to you. it has been quite some since you were able to sit down and have a nice, home cooked meal together. normally your schedules clash during the week, and weekends were spent outside the house, exploring new places and trying new things.

and normally, jude would love to hear you talk about your week, about the new stuff you learned that he definitely did not understand, but the sparkle inside your eyes made it all worth it. he didn’t know why he is so annoyed about you talking about the person you literally work with, more likely work for, but just hearing the name drop from your lips makes him want to go and shoot a ball at all of their heads.

“uh, you okay, my love?” your concern for him makes jude melt, and he wishes that he could just ignore this negative feeling growing inside of him, yet he simply can’t.

he shrugs, corners if his lips turning slightly down, “don’t know, why don’t you ask your little friend max. that’s what you always do, right?”

he knew that this was the moment he royally fucked up, no turning back now.

when you frown and look at him with those confused eyes, jude gets even more worked up than he should.

as if you don’t know what he is talking about.

“i beg your pardon, jude?”

you called him ‘jude’, meaning you were also getting worked up about the situation, well, his behavior.

he scoffs again, getting up from the table to put his empty plate away.

it was delicious, he would say, but right now he just wants to be pissed about this whole situation [that he started].

you copy his movements, actually quite sad that your usual chat time after eating is interrupted by this petty argument.

“hey, ‘m talkin’ to you.” your confusion does not seem to go away, no matter how you try to look at the situation. jude simply takes your plate from your hands and places it inside the dishwasher, before he dries his hands to continue the conversation [discussion].

“all ‘m sayin’ is that you love to be seen with your little racer buddies instead of with me.” he moves out of the kitchen back to the dining table to pick up the other dishes and the drinks.

“what the fuck?” is all you can say about his statement as you take the drinks from his hands to put them into the fridge, “what do you mean i ‘love to be seen’ with them? i work with those people and actually get along with them, just like you do with your teammates.”

the tension [not the hot one] between you rises by the second and jude is once again walking around the apartment, “that’s not the same.”

“the fuck you mean it’s not the same? it literally is?”

a few minutes ago jude would have [maybe, probably not] admitted that he might have gone too far with what he had said to you, but now seeing you getting so offensive about something that bothers him, he no longer feels like he should back off. instead he wants to win this, he wants you to understand that he is right and that you being seen with others could be, no it is, disrespectful to your relationship.

“you are my girlfriend, why would you want to be seen with other guys?!” raising his voice was something he rarely did whenever you guys argued. he preferred to keep calm in order to avoid hurting you in any way. but right now, his voice was getting louder with each argument he made, heating up the whole conversation even more.

you genuinely did not understand why he would come up with this argument all of a sudden, it is not the first time that you are seen at max’ side at races or maybe even next to others. you had a healthy relationship with most drivers and pleasant conversations with them in between races and breaks. everyone knew that you are the intern who will soon work for the redbull racing team, and jude actually was the one to be the proudest of you. it is literally how and where you guys met.

“the reason why i am seen with them is because, one; i work with them. we have to talk a lot because of the development of the car and i still have to learn a lot from the other engineers. two, i get along with them, you know, like normal co workers do, because, fuck, why not? you know all of this.” you feel your throat straining with how much and how loud you are talking, but the rage inside of you somehow numbs the pain.

“so people thinking that you are dating one of them also comes with the job, yeah?”

jude now stands tall in front if you, nostrils flared and eyes wide. he isn’t mad at you entirely, he knows it, but more like at the situation and the people that dare to pair you with someone that is not him.

but you cannot know that he isn’t mad at you, because in your eyes it seems like he is blaming you for the stuff the media puts into the news. your heart beats faster than ever and this whole situation makes your head spin.

“i don’t control what the media says? like, it’s not in my hands? to them i am a single woman who is successfully working for a motorsport team, rumors are bound to happen?”

“well, there is always some truth behind rumors, right?”

something inside you snapped, “what about you, huh?!”

jude almost flinched when you suddenly raised your voice at him, a sight he has never seen before.

“you also get paired up with a new woman every fucking day, jude. do you see me complain about it? no! because i trust you.” right now, you really wished to cry. was it that hard to understand?

the comfortable atmosphere from a few minutes ago vanished entirely, coldness and a bitter feeling on your tongue seem to have replaced it. during the two years you and jude havr spent together, you never had such an argument to this extent.

“but i am never pictured next to those people! i never even talked to them ever in my life!”

suddenly still, your eyes widened, mouth dry as you speak up, “are you accusing me of cheating on you?”

silent.

jude looks at you with his mouth open, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

“no, never…” the stark contrast between your voices now compared to just a second ago is almost cinematic, as if you had practiced this scene multiple times already. silently looking at one another, eyes dancing around the others faces in order to understand what just had happened.

“do you also think that way when i talk to aurelien and eduardo?” your voice breaks as you speak up, a defeated feeling replaces the rage inside, “do you actually think like this of me?”

judes shoulders sack down as he listens to you speak, this is absolutely not something he ever thought of, nor would he ever dare to accuse you of such thing.

he wants to speak up, yet you quickly cut him off, “just for your information, to the media and the rest to the world, we both are single individuals who don’t even know each other. and all the guys on the grid know that i am a taken person, they would never do such thing.”

you scoff as you shake your head, turning around to go to the front door.

jude panics as he watches your fast steps, immediately following you, “what- uh, where are you going?”

you quickly put on your shoes and put your bag on your shoulders, not in the mood to continue any of this, “wanna go home.”

“but this is home-“

your head snaps to his direction, eyes cold, “apparently not. at least not now.”

jude closes his hand around your wirst, not wanting you to go away when the situation between you is so heated.

“let’s find a solution, babe, c’mon.” he begs, voice husky and desperate. he did not know that it would escalate like this, but now he regrets to even bring up this topic.

you sigh, all of this arguing took a toll on you and now you want to do nothing more but lay in your bed and not to think of anything anymore.

inhaling deeply, you look at jude, his big brown eyes never left yours anyway, and he truly does look like he wants to fix this, which you do too.

“listen,” you begin, taking one last deep breath, “you cannot accuse me of such thing and then expect me to do nothing about it-“

“i don’t want you to do anything, just, let’s stop arguing.”

scoffing, you tighten the grip on your bag, “you started all if this because apparently, you do not trust me, jude.”

“it’s babe-“

“it’s jude right now, don’t test me.” you threaten him, not in the mood for his little jokes.

shaking your head, an almost mocking laugh leaves your lips, “we decided to keep our relationship a secret. you, by the way, wanted to do it this way the most. i would have launched our relationship ages ago, because i trust you and i trust our bond. y’know, communicating and stuff.”

judes voice cracks slightly as he speaks up, deep sigh leaving his body as he tries to hold your hand, a sign that he is getting desperate, “i trust you, too, babe. ‘t’s just- i don’t know, like, rumors and shit and i don’t want you to have reporters on your neck at all times, y’know.”

you frown at his words, “but that does not explain why you literally sprung at me for mentioning max, or the others. when we first started dating, i already knew what would come along with being with you, and i would take it all, jude, everything.”

jude smiles at your words, now looking down at your hands, so you continue, “all those annoying rumors about me, people following me and what not, i genuinely will take it all, because i love you. not max, not lando nor charles or whomever you’re jealous of.”

“i ain’t jealous.” he rolls his eyes, slowly stepping closer to you.

“don’t lie to me, belli.” you smirk at him.

jude chuckles, his thumb dancing across your knuckles help you to be at ease.

“soo.”

“sooo?” you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue.

“do we just post a picture together? or like, do a sex tap-“

“shut it.” you pinch his waist, chuckling as he squirms away from your touch, “we will do a, hm, maybe a soft launch? yeah, something like that.”

jude groans, throwing his head back, “that takes way too long.”

“well,” you shrug, “ that’s what you get for literally yelling at me for doing my job.”

“and i’m sorry, love.” judes hand now caresses your cheek softly, head tilted down as his bog brown eyes apologetically look at yours, “next time, i will calmly ask you about something that bothers me, okay?”

“okay.” you smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“you have a race this weekend, no?”

“yeah, in belgium this time, why?”

“just because.”

“still trouble in paradise?” you hear landos [annoying] kind voice from behind you, making you draw your eyebrows together.

turning around, you tilt your head in question, “wait, how do you know?”

lando innocently smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders, “max and i are somewhat besties, y’know.”

“max.” you grumble, already planning on how to get your revenge from him.

“so? everything okay now?” lando questions again, this time in a slightly more serious manner than before.

“it’s always okay between us, just rocky at times.” you tell him, not stopping yourself from smiling when you think of your boyfriend.

lando nods his head at something behind you, “seems like goal-machine over there still wants to rip off my head, though.”

“goal-machine-?” you turn around and are immediately met with the sight of jude leaning against some tires in the garage.

he looks good, you must admit. sunglasses on too of his nose, oversized shirt with the first few buttons undone, night dress pants and matching shoes, a real snack.

a snack that should not be here, or well, a snack you did not know that would be here. so, you bid your goodbyes to lando and walk closer to jude, coming to halt a fee steps in front of him.

“eh, hi?” you greet him, confused but happy.

he smiles down at you, taking off his glasses to get a better look at you, “hey there, sexy lady.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms in front of your chest, “not now, i am working, y’know.”

“chatting it up with little lad over there is quite some work, huh?” jude points at lando with his head, who still, you don’t know why, is standing inside the redbull garage, subtly [nit really] glancing at your direction every now and then.

“lando just likes to annoy me, nothing more.” you explain, smiling as you watch jude stand up straight.

“well, let’s annoy him back.” he smirks down at you.

“how-“

jude cuts you off by placing his soft lips on top of yours as his muscular arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. at first you feel like resisting, but the more he deepened the kiss, the more you could not get enough of it. tilting your head to gain better control, you feel up his chest before you place your hands at the back of his next, enjoying this public display of affection more than ever. maybe because it is the first time you’ve ever done something like this in a place like the garage-

you immediately push jude away, eyes wide open, “jude! there are cameras everywhere!”

he just smiles down at you, that little tease, before taking your hand into his, “you wanted to go public anyway.”

“i wanted a soft launch, though! i always wanted to soft launch a relationship.” you whine, moving closer to out your forehead against his chest in defeat.

“you can still soft launch it, love.”

you shake your head, still against his chest while you feel his hand move up and down your back, “no, let me grieve in peace, please.”

“love you too, babe.”

“shut it, you ruined my dreams.”

“you’re welcome.”

———————————————————————

enjoy 🥰

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #football one shot #x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #f1 #f1 x football

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boundinparchment · 2 days

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The Sacrament

As you sleep, the day breaks, and Sunday muses. Sunday/Gender Neutral Reader. Pure fluff. Reblog appreciated. On AO3 here.

Shards of dawn light slipped through the blinds, slowly stealing away the remnants of the night, painting the room in a soft golden glow.

This was the true golden hour, Sunday mused. Sleep still clung to his eyelids; he longed to simply hold you closer still and fall back asleep. But the light caught on your hair, highlighting every little nuance, and it was so rare to see you like this.

Peaceful. No creases in your brow, your jaw relaxed, breathing perfectly even.

There was no dreamscape that would ever capture how iridescent you were. He would never dare try, not now. Not when you taught him what it meant to live with two feet on the ground, hand in hand, overcoming the burdens of existence.

No, burden was the wrong word. Nothing was ever a burden, thanks to you.

Sunday’s gaze traced the faint lines near your mouth, marks of your laughter and happiness. He knew the exact note to match your rich joy. If he were still able to touch music in the same way, he would have created a symphony around that single note for all to hear.

But he liked this more. Being the only one to truly know how life has left its mark on you.

He was admiring your lips, soft and gentle and never without a hint of sweetness, when you sighed in your sleep, shifted, and wriggled closer under the covers. Your warm thighs enveloped his own as you pressed yourself against his chest, as if burrowing in his arms.

It never failed to make his heart skip that you took comfort in him, especially in such a vulnerable state. Once upon a time, he would never have allowed such a thing, both for security and time. A Family Head had no need for rest, for any contemplation that did not benefit the supposed Harmony, the collective. It was enough to know one was happy in the Dream, able to achieve what they could not outside of the pool in their hotel room. Why wake up when all of your success and your happiness would be left behind?

But after that fall…after you…

Careful not to wake you, he fluttered his wings gently, grazing the feathers along your cheek with the faintest whisper. You barely stirred but muttered something in a familiar three-syllable pattern that Sunday knew by heart.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, resting his wing on your cheek and ghosting his lips over your forehead.

These moments were treasures in their own right.

And he would savor their beauty.

#sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #fluff #sunday fluff #idk how else to tag this okay #soft sunday is very sweet

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cobaltperun · 3 days

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Genius - All I Want

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Next part

Word count: 3k

-All I want is a place to call my own, to mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone-

There was nothing quite as comforting as the freedom of an open road and the clear night sky above you. It was peaceful, though lonely sometimes.

“Well, you’re still as creepy as you were when I was a child,” you said as you watched the dense forest covering the hill ahead of you. Lovell Hill certainly didn’t get any more inviting since you last visited the forsaken small village you were born in. And it certainly didn’t look any more inviting in the middle of the night, close to midnight.

At least you didn’t have to go on foot.

That would be kinda scary, even now that you were technically an adult. At least as far as age went, yeah, you were an adult. You hardly had the life experience needed to call yourself that, though you did spend the last two years away from your parents and the safety they provided. You turned sixteen and took off on your Yamaha Star Venture, staying at one place only long enough to finish one semester at school and then moving on.

Why did you suddenly decide to come back? To this small village in Tennessee? You weren’t sure, maybe it was nostalgia, maybe you wanted to come back and see how much you changed, to measure yourself to the place that shaped your childhood, now with a different outlook on life. Like a frog from a well that learned of the ocean and yearned for the calm of its well, at least for a short while, at least until you closed the chapter of your life called high school.

The road ahead of you narrowed as you entered the dense forest, the sky above you vanished, and the only source of light came from your motorcycle. How long has it been since you ran through this forest as a child, playing hide and seek without a care in the world, without any pressure, creeped out by the random sounds and shadows, but happy to be with your friend. That was so long ago, you weren’t even going to school back then.

As you drove on you saw the lights ahead of you, and you knew exactly what they were. A lone light coming from one room of a huge mansion, the only one on the hill that was still occupied back when you still lived here. From the looks of it that didn’t change. You didn’t look at the mansion though, you just drove past it. The only person you’d be interested in seeing from that mansion probably no longer lived there. She was too good to be stuck in this small village. You remained unaware that someone in that mansion caught a glimpse of you riding by, confused and intrigued by the random person passing by.

~X~

The random biker passing through the Lovell Hill reignited her muse as her fingers glided across her keyboard. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What made them take the road few traveled? Cairo didn’t know, but she liked to imagine the strange traveler. Perhaps they were familiar with the area, confident in their ability to take a shortcut across the hill. Or perhaps they took a wrong turn and she’d soon hear the roar of the engine coming back.

Maybe it would wake her up when she finally tries to fall asleep.

Lonely girl, in a lonely place, longing for some kind of connection, for more than she already had, even if it was just a moment, she’d forget sooner rather than later. She still typed away, contemplating the biker’s decision to pass through the haunting dense forest, all the while feeling the tiny legs crawling up her bare calf. The cigarette she lit just before she picked up on the sound of the motorcycle slowly burned away, forgotten just like she was.

~X~

You parked your motorcycle in the garage, next to your parents’ car and took a deep breath. You were back home, because, truly, nowhere else ever felt as much like home as rural Tennessee. It’s been six years since you moved out with your parents, but they kept the house, kept it clean and took care of the car so everything was set for them when they visited to escape their jobs every few months or so.

It wasn’t a huge mansion, especially compared to the one you just passed, but it was a fairly big, two-story house, with several bedrooms and plenty of space in the living room, as well as a very nice, well-furnished kitchen. The pictures were still hanging on the walls as you stepped inside and took your boots off. Some were from your birthdays, some from your first day at school, some were you and Cairo, or her parents and your parents. They were all attorneys, so of course you and Cairo ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. Well, you did until you started going to school. You placed the backpack you packed your entire life in on the floor of the living room, and a bit too exhausted to go and set up a bed in your childhood room, you just crashed on the sofa and used your motorbike jacket as makeshift cover.

The house still had an admirable book collection, mostly for show though. You read as a child, there wasn’t much else to do here, but most of the books were just bought for show, never to be opened. But, they were there and they gave the house a certain aesthetic, you guessed.

As you looked at the books you noticed an old copy of ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne sticking out like a sore thumb with the damaged and stained spine separating it from the well-kept pristine condition of most of the books around it. How many times did you and Cairo read that as children? You smiled at that, promising silently to get the spine fixed up a bit. Just enough for it not to fall apart the next time someone took it, but not to the point of downright replacing it. You wanted to preserve the memories, but that was a task for another day. For now, you just closed your eyes and drifted off,

~X~

Two days later you found yourself in the vice principal’s office, just filling out the last few papers to finalize your transfer.

“You can attend classes right away, miss L/N,” vice principal Manor told you as you signed the final document.

“Right, and the locker?” you asked, ready to put away your helmet and not carry it around at all times.

The woman just slid a key toward you with a copy of your schedule. “Here you go.”

You nodded, smiling gratefully and getting up with your copies of the documents and the things your were given in hand.

“Oh, and welcome back,” vice principal told you.

She knew your parents, as they were very active in the community while they still lived here. It was the connections they still had that allowed you to make such an abrupt decision and transfer on such a short notice.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you still found it a bit awkward when people much older than you acted friendly toward you because of your parents. You understood, but you also felt they only saw your parents’ child, and not you yourself.

“Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me,” vice principal Manor justified your feelings on the matter.

You just chuckled lightly at that. “Of course. Have a good day,” you said politely while stepping out of her office.

You and your parents had a good relationship, you loved them, they loved you. You often talked to them over the phone, and you texted at least one of them almost daily. You didn’t see much of them though, you wanted independence and they were more than willing to give you a chance to experience life on your own, all the while making sure you knew you could turn to them if you ever needed. And you were more than happy with that.

You checked the tag on the locker key and looked around, searching for it in the hall, it wasn’t a huge school, so it wasn’t too hard to find. The almost empty hallway was a bit haunting, though, you did get here early thinking paperwork would take longer to sort out. Finally, you did find your locker, not too far from another girl that came early.

Perhaps it was the abrupt way you stopped when you noticed the number on your tag, or maybe it was your jacket and boots, but the girl looked at you.

“We don’t get new students that often,” she commented, her raspy voice catching your attention immediately.

“I better not disappoint then,” you opened the locker and placed your helmet inside. You’d have to go and pick up your books and other things you might need later. Why did you sign up for a literature class again? Oh yeah, you wanted to reignite your passion for reading after all these years.

You could feel her eyes looking you over. “Need help finding your first class?”

“Thanks,” you grinned, meeting her eyes and taking in the way she was dressed. “I like to figure new places out myself, but I appreciate the offer,” you really did, both actually. If you got lost, well, you could find your way out, again, it wasn’t that big of a school. You found your locker just fine, surely you could find a classroom.

“Well, see you around, stranger,” she winked and walked away. “I’m Winnie, by the way!” she exclaimed once she put some distance between you two.

“Y/N!” you answered and went in the opposite direction. It would be a bit awkward if you went the same way when you just rejected her offer to help you find the classroom you were supposed to go to for your first class.

~X~

The next time you saw Winnie it was less than ten minutes later, and this time she was accompanied by a shorter, black-haired girl, you didn’t pay much attention to the though, too focused on finding the classroom you needed to go to.

“Still don’t need help?” she asked as you crossed paths.

“Still no, I’ll be sure to cry for help if needed,” you joked earning a small laugh from he girls, and somehow the laughter you heard sounded familiar. A bit shy and reserved, but soft, but by the time you fully registered the familiarity of the sound the girl with Winnie was too far for you to call her.

It couldn’t be… Right?

Why would it be her? For once maybe you were wrong. Maybe being back in this place made you hear what wasn’t there.

Even if it was, well, you had half a year to come across her again.

Finally, you found the classroom you were looking for and were immediately hit by words you did not expect to hear, especially not in school, in a classroom, read loudly by a middle-aged larger male to at least slightly older man.

“Marcelle wants me to fuck her. She leaps off the couch and pushes herself between the girl and me,” the taller one, dressed in a more comfortable gray tracksuit, perhaps a PE teacher, read.

You weren’t sure how to react as the older man tried to make his colleague stop reading… well, not exactly the material you were expecting. You just entered the classroom, hoping that would be enough to get their attention. It wasn’t and you wanted to erase the ‘split fig’ line from your memory, alas, you were cursed! For you memorized what you heard like a damn recorder. Split fig would remain in your memory likely until something even more jarring replaced it.

You nearly walked out, not wanting to witness any more of this when they began going through student’s things, and that was a line you didn’t like being crossed. The student left that there trusting it wouldn’t be touched, it was private, and they had no business looking through someone’s stuff.

“Well, this is an interesting first impression,” you said without a care in the world making the two men freeze and turn to look at you. “Guess I found the literature class. Good morning, by the way,” you checked the doors again and sure enough, this was the classroom. Not that you needed to check again. Between the books on the shelves, framed pictures of famous writers, general feel of the room as well as everything written on the blackboard there was no doubt in your mind you were in the right place.

The man you guessed was the literature teacher at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Uh, good morning, are you here for the class?”

You nodded, taking a chair along and setting it next to the one where the pile of books was. “Sure, I was going to leave my stuff here, but,” you glanced at the teacher who was now next to you and then at the book in his hand that belonged back on the pile. “Maybe that’s not the smartest decision.”

You weren’t even subtle about it as you leaned back on your chair and pulled out your phone. “Don’t mind me, just passing the time until class starts,” you said, fiddling with your phone in the process.

“This isn’t how we usually are,” the teacher grabbed the book out of his colleague’s hand and placed it back where it belonged. “The school year just started, and Boris might be a bit too excited.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “I noticed,” you said, briefly shifting your attention to the book the teacher, now named Boris, was reading out loud.

The man next to you quickly raised his hands. “Not that kind of excited, just so we’re clear!”

You just gave him a thumbs up and turned back to your phone. Things might be a bit awkward from now on, but you could live with that.

~X~

Almost an hour of awkward silence broken briefly only by the teacher, Miller, giving you a list of all the books the class was meant to cover later, the students began coming in. The school kinda came to life about ten minutes ago, as more and more students rushed through the halls to their first classes. You hoped your motorcycle was still fine, the first few days at a new, well old but kinda new in this case, place were always a bit worrisome in that regard. You’d cross that bridge when you get there, if it needed to be crossed in the first place. And then, sure enough, one of the students, a girl dressed in black sweater and white shorts sat down next to you.

“I haven’t seen you around, you must be new,” she said as she settled down and opened her notebook.

Again, her voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if you used to listen to it so often as a child but then it changed as she grew up and now only some familiarity remained. Just a small hint here and there to remind you that maybe you did, in fact, know her. Which wouldn’t be surprising, they were all your age, and it was a small village, and if you remembered correctly there were three classes in your generation. Or was it four? Either way, chances were you knew at least some of your current classmates. “Yeah, hi, I’m-“ you turned to look at the girl so you could introduce yourself and your breath hitched.

She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction. She didn’t change one bit, well, sure, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but you knew exactly who the girl standing in front of you was. Her dark long hair, flowing and framing her freckle-covered face, the soft, curious eyes studying you and an easy, friendly smile, and the adorable dimples on her cheeks. There was no way you could ever forget her, and the pile of books only confirmed your suspicions. As stupid as it was, you were genuinely surprised. You saw the lights on your way back home, though you just assumed it was her parents, not her. Why was she still in this small village? Why wasn’t she out there, making the most of the potential she had? You expected to see familiar faces, but you thought you wouldn’t get to see her again, and your heart raced as fast as your motorcycle through an open road.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and you felt two more pairs of eyes on you now that you remained silent for too long. The teacher, as well as the girl she was with were looking at you as well, but it hardly mattered.

“I, yeah, I’m fine, Cairo,” you finally pushed the words through your dry throat. You swallowed, getting over your surprise and smiling at her as her eyes widened. “It’s been a while.” She took a better look at you, and you saw recognition in her eyes as she took your appearance in. You couldn’t blame her for taking a bit of time to recognize you, you changed a bit since she last saw you. “Y/N,” she finally said your name, though with a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and you nodded, the somewhat shy smile on your face turning into a more confident, cheeky grin. She remembered you, and while you didn’t expect to see her you couldn’t hide how happy you were. You just hoped the way the two of you left things off all those years ago wouldn’t be an obstacle to catch up at least over a coffee or tea or something.

A/N: Well, here's the start of the next story. Enjoy! Also... Taglist? Yes? No?

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x you #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader

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dedicatednotobsessed · 3 days

Text

Issa byka rūklon [Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader]

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Other HOTD stories

Summary: Daemon is feared among men for his battle prowess, finding solace and love in his pure sunshine of a wife. One serene evening, amidst impending war, they steal a moment alone. His wife with gentle hands and a heart full of affection, braids Daemon’s hair, weaving delicate flowers into the strands…

*This was a one shot request from a very special person of mine, my bestie @mrsdaemontargaryen I had asked her to send me a prompt because I have been on such a long hiatus from writing. Writer’s block has not been fun {among personal things but let’s not get into that}. Please enjoy this Daemon one shot and soon enough, I will be taking requests again in time for season two. 🖤*

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You placed a hand on the ghost of your swelling stomach, your violet eyes shining from the fireplace’s flames. The incident was still fresh in your mind, your sister’s screams of calling you a traitor ringing in your ears. It wasn’t a surprise to see the twins together in Storm’s End, having been inseparable since birth, but you never thought Adryana* would try to murder you.

You turned your head slightly, hearing the footsteps, letting out a soft sigh, and feeling your husband wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into his chest. “Is it done?”

Daemon nodded, nuzzling his nose into your silver hair. “Soon enough, she will feel the pain you felt.”

You took a deep breath, looking ahead. When Daemon was writing to his friends in the capital, you had mentioned to him how you wanted Adryana to feel the same pain you felt when she took her unborn babe from you. He added, “Along with the usurper’s son, take the life of his brother’s son.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Daemon whispered in your ear as though he could read your mind. “Those green cunts didn’t feel anything killing Luke and our child. You shouldn’t either.”

You nodded in agreement, furrowing your brows. “Can we go on a walk?” You knew this would be the last calm moment before Westeros is thrown into chaos.

You turned in Daemon’s arms, smiling a small smile when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, my love.”

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You wrapped your hands around Daemon’s arm as he led you down the familiar path toward Aegon’s Garden. During the day, it was a favorite spot for your young son, Alyster, to play in; he especially enjoyed the cranberries that grew there. The eye of the dragon statue glistened in the moonlight the closer you got, lifting your dress slightly so it did not drag too much through the grass.

You thanked Daemon quietly when he helped you into the plush grass, a hum passing your lips as you began to pick at the small white wildflowers surrounding you mindlessly. Since you’ve woken up from the incident, the two of you have rarely spent time alone, with Alyster not leaving your side and Daemon being preoccupied with the small council. For the first time in a long time, you felt peace.

Once he sat down, you moved to sit behind your husband, your fingers gingerly taking a section of his hair and beginning to work it in a braid. His hair was not as long as it once was but manageable. You smiled, hearing the light chuckle coming from him.

“What?” You asked as you grabbed one of the wildflowers you picked, placing it carefully within the braid.

Daemon kept his eyes ahead, a small smile forming on his features. “I’m only thinking back to our wedding day.”

“Our wedding day?” You repeated while beginning to braid another section of his hair, adding the little flowers as you went.

Daemon hummed in response. “You wanted to braid my hair that day, too.”

You smiled at the memory. You had a traditional Valyrian wedding against your mother’s wishes. You were never one to listen to your mother, to begin with, having gone against her wishes to become Rhaenyra’s ward at fifteen, shortly after Laena’s funeral, and two years later becoming Daemon’s third wife. Now, at the age of three-and-two, the two of you had a six-year-old son, a son your mother and father only met once.

“I’m hoping this war will be over quickly,” Daemon spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

You hummed, leaning back to examine your creation. “I do not want to talk about war this evening, my love,” You said softly, placing a few more flowers in the braids with a soft smile.

You enjoyed the calm moments while you could, not knowing if this would be your last one together. The war began when Aemond and Adryana struck in Storm’s End, and you knew Daemon would be restless until every one of their heads was on spikes. You were to cherish these moments while they lasted.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You hummed as the sun filtered through the windows, stirring slightly only to feel the side beside you cold. You furrowed your brows while rubbing your eyes as you sat up, your stomach still sore from your injuries.

“You do not want to go to the small council like that?” You asked teasingly, seeing Daemon picking out the white flowers, having slept in them.

He chuckled, looking down at the small pile forming beside him at the vanity. “I’m not sure it would be proper attire for a small council meeting.”

You scrunched up your nose while slowly getting out of bed. Wrapping your silken robe around you, you walked up behind your husband, meeting his violet eyes in the mirror.

“Issa byka rūklon*,” Daemon said softly, placing his hand on your arm when you wrapped them around his neck.

You hummed lightly. “I prefer when you call me aōha vēzos*.”

Daemon laughed. “No one else can hear that.”

You smirked, moving back so Daemon could get up. You straightened his doublet for him, scrunching up your nose when he placed two fingers under your chin, making you look up.

“I love you, Y/N,” Daemon whispered, moving his hand to your cheek.

“I love you too,” You replied, meeting his lips in a short, sweet kiss.

You watched him pull away after a moment, a small smirk forming on your features. You noticed the stray flower tucked in the waves of his hair.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

“You’re late, Daemon,” Corlys spoke up, seeing the Prince enter the council chambers.

“You should already know that I enjoy making late, dramatic entrances,” Daemon replied simply, sliding into the empty seat on Rhaenyra’s right.

Rhaenyra eyed her uncle curiously, tilting her head. “Daemon,” She called to him, clearing her throat while motioning to her hair.

Daemon furrowed his brows, reaching up to feel the soft petals of the single wildflower he had forgotten about. He untangled it from his hair, looking down at it with a soft sigh.

“Is the Rogue Prince going soft?” Lord Celtigar questioned with a laugh.

“I believe he is,” Corlys agreed.

Daemon only scoffed as the Black Council erupted in laughter, Rhaenyra even adding a giggle of her own. He sighed as the jesting continued around him, his eyes staying on the wildflower in his hand. He twirled it on its tiny stem, his mind wandering back to his wife, their son, and the babe they had lost.

There was no guarantee of surviving this kin war, but Daemon was determined to win it so that he and his family could finally live the peaceful life they had long desired.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

*Adryana: Adryana Targaryen is my original character for House of the Dragon. She is the youngest daughter and fifth child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent (The reader is the eldest daughter and child). She is wed to her twin brother, Aemond, and they have a set of twins together; a son named Vanar and a daughter named Vhaenys. She is known to have a short temper and often accused her eldest sister of abandoning her to live with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. She also felt hurt when she sided with Rhaenyra's children during the Driftmark incident. Her temper overflowed when her eldest sister made a comment about how their father would be disappointed in the twins and their actions after reuniting in Storm's End, ultimately resulting in Adryana attempting to kill her and the unborn babe. The eldest sister lived, but the unborn babe did not, leading to her and Daemon planning revenge on Lucerys and their child.

*Issa byka rūklon: High Valyrian for my little flower.

*aōha vēzos: High Valyrian for your sun.

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the-xolotl · 20 hours

Text

Morning Kisses

Alastor x gn!Reader

ღ Itty bitty snip !

ღ a/n: this was originally only a warm-up posted to a discord server but a comment from @theradioshusband made me want to post it as well, so thank him :33

summary: Sometimes it’s nice waking up before Alastor because you get some extra cuddles.

ღ TAGS: sfw, just kisses and fluff

It’s rare to ever wake up before he does, the man seems to either never sleep or a perfectly attuned internal clock for dawn. But there are days like today when you rise from your own slumber with his warm body next to you, even with an arm wrapped protectively around your middle. Alastor has you pressed up against his chest, nose firmly pressed against your neck around your pulse point area, he looked peaceful while he slept, almost innocent with relaxed features with a soft smile.

Slowly and gently, you turned over to face him. You didn’t want to wake him just yet. Wanting to admire the cute sight that you’ve been gifted with. However, once you had made the 180° turn his arms tightened around you and he buried his face into your chest. You had to bite your lip to get a giggle. Not very long ago Alastor himself had protested having shared living spaces, trying to convince you that having independence from one another would be better, except now even when he doesn’t admit it he enjoyed these opportunities to hold you. Show you some affection behind closed doors and away from prying eyes.

The deer demon isn’t much for PDA, public or otherwise. He showed affection in different ways, his own ways. But there came reserved moments like these where he indulged you, and himself, in sweet touches and whispered nothings. The moments you could live in your own bubble together and ironically made your own little piece of heaven here in hell. You could stay like this forever if you could, but alas, there are duties and responsibilities that you know Alastor is nothing less than punctual to.

With a gentle hand, you run your fingers through his currently messy red hair. Your nails traced the back of his ears making them unconsciously twitch. It’s then you hear a soft groan.

“Good morning, deerling,” you whisper, leaning down to deliver soft kisses to his cheek. This is your favorite way to wake him up; peppering him with kisses while he’s still sleepy enough to not stop you from smothering him. “You were slow to rise today,” chuckling lowly your lips travel down to his to peck him, “You have to get up.”

Alastor blinked the sleep out of his eyes searching for the clock. “Good morning, darling,” the low reverb of his morning voice seemed to echo in your own chest. His radio filter is usually off until he’s fully awake. A little treat you learned about when you started waking up with him. “Seems I’ve overslept today. You’re getting me into bad habits.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that it made you giggle. “What do I have to do you waking up late?” you brush a stray strand of hair from his face, “It’s not my fault I’m comfortable to sleep with, silly.”

And yet despite his remark, he still hasn’t unwrapped from you. Alastor wasn’t that complicated of a creature, one just needed to learn to read him. He’s used to hiding or lying about his own emotions, it came as natural as breathing and that included his feelings about you. It took a lot of effort to get him to his point but there was still a lot of work to do in the spoken honesty department. For now, you didn’t quite mind it.

He hummed dismissively at your words pulling you into an actual kiss. Tender, warm. A gentleness he’s reserved for you and you alone. It’s slow, with purpose and his hand is now cradling your cheek. His thumb caresses the skin of your face, the very tip of his talon gracing it sending a shiver down your back. But the kiss doesn’t deepen or become heated. It stays just as it is; innocent and soft. The kind of kiss that has you smiling against his lips and don’t want to pull away until you need air.

“Simply starting the day off the right way, dear.” And with a last kiss to your forehead, he untangles himself from you to get out of bed. You almost want to groan at the loss of contact but you know there wouldn’t be any convincing him to stay any little longer. He already woke up “late” by his standards. So instead you watch him as he dresses and fixes himself up in his usual dapper attire ready to go about the hotel as per usual.

“You can sleep in here longer if you wish, sweetheart. It’s still pretty early for you,” he offered coming up to the foot of the bed, his hand coming to rest atop your head, patting you. “But don’t sleep for too long. It’s not good for you to be in bed for so long.”

With that, he vanishes into the void. Not without his shadow lingering behind for a second longer, he grabbed the shadow of your hand that dangled off the edge of the bed kissing your knuckles before also scurrying away. You giggled to yourself thinking, progress.

—

word dividers were done by ME with @ cafekitsune template — give proper credit if you use it.

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inkyray · 2 days

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neighbor!chris x reader, part 6

a/n; this one isnt a text messages one i knowww, but whatevs. part 5 here

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You

Your feet buried themselves into the sand as you sat against the laid towel, the warm sun casting gentle rays on your skin as you leaned back on your elbows, fluttering your eyes shut to the feeling.

The sun was about to set and you had just made it to the beach, your day long and time dreadfully consuming. It felt as if the day had refused to end, yet it was only 6 in the evening. The entire tiresome day had you painstakingly eager for the clock to hit evening so you could change into your swimsuit and continue the rest of your day by the sea.

To your surprise, not many people were here. Many other days you'd drive by the beaches of LA and see them undeniably crowded. But now, being what was considered late for a day at the beach on a Thursday, barely anyone was here but a few people.

You sat on the farthest corner, away from most people as the scent of sea-weed flew past your hair due to the wind.

Chris had promised to be there, tagging along with you for a little hang out at the beach. He had already canceled on you the day before, but you had understood then. Apparently his brothers weren't coming, too busy doing influencer shit they were backed up on. You were disappointed, but still looked forward to seeing him. He had peaked your interest the most out of his brothers, and he took notice of that.

You open your eyes, checking the time on your phone. 10 minutes late, no big deal, you thought. But you wanted to get in the water before the sun had fully set. You shoot him a quick impatient text, urging him to hurry up with a series of creative curse words.

You're left on delivered, and with an annoyed sigh, you get up and head toward the water. Maybe by the time you're out of the water he could be here.

Stepping past the burning hot sand and cleansing it with the coldness of the tidal shore, you begin walking into the water, quickly swimming instead.

The waves pushed against you as you dipped your head under the water, trying to get your body temperature to blend with the ocean. It worked, and in seconds, you were at peace. The ocean being exactly what you had needed.

You swam, stopping every so often to dive beneath a large wave, quickly losing track of how far you were getting from the shore. Your heart had always belonged to the sea, and it hurt you that you took this log to finally get around to swimming in this one. But to your defense, everything had been a lot on you. You managed to keep yourself together but you still felt yourself cracking, and soon you would burst.

The ocean took that feeling away from you. If it wasn't for the ocean, it would be for the stupid conversations you'd have with Chris. But you would never utter that out loud.

Chris

All he had been thinking about was the day he had promised to spend with you. He woke up thinking about you, peeking out of his window to see your bed neatly made, already up and gone for work.

That's how the routine went, you would fall asleep early, every time forgetting to close your blinds, as Chris would follow in hours after. But then you'd wake up to your alarm clock that Chris swears he could hear through his window at times, and you would see him peacefully asleep.

Today has been crammed up for him, the moment he woke up he needed to sign a contract and stay in meetings that lasted hours, not a single second of the time spent was he not thinking about you.

He didn't like to admit it, but he found you entertaining. Intriguing, even. He knew there was more to you than your unhinged humor, and he wanted to find out more. At first, he couldn't stand you. Truly. Now, he only acts like he still can't stand you, yet he still darts his gaze to his phone every time a notification pumps through, every part of his body wishing it was your notification instead. If not for that, he'd watch you struggle to bring in groceries or scan his eyes past your house as Matt would drive him home.

He'd re-use your jokes in videos, which you had no clue about, since you didn't particularly watch your neighbors content on a regular basis, and he owes you for it. Some of his best jokes that went viral were your jokes that he stole, but no one needed to know that.

"What, Nick?" Chris groans in response to his brother's call, walking out of the kitchen. He hadn't had a single minute for himself, he had been working since the moment he opened his eyes. Needless to say he was tired.

"I forgot we need to film a video today! Get in the car!" Nick calls out from the garage. "Are you serious?" Chris whined, opening his phone to check the time. It was 6:10 PM, nervousness pulsed through him as he thought of you. "Can't we just film a little later on?" He sipped from his soda at hand.

"No, I'll forget and videos take me years to fucking edit. This has to be up by tomorrow." Nick said and Matt started the car, rubbing his eyes as Chris made his way into the passenger seat. "I have somewhere to be, you know." He jumped his knee up and down as Matt pulled out of the driveway, Chris's gaze on your house completely.

He fixed his eyes on the corner of the house your room stayed in. "Yeah, we know, kid. We'll just finish this video really quickly and you could get going." Matt says.

They didn't exactly know that Chris had been going to meet up with you at the beach. You had invited them, sure, but they had just collectively assumed they all declined due to a tight schedule. All but Chris, he desperately wanted to make this work. Now, all his brothers know is that he's going to meet up with a friend.

Chris's phone lit open, and he saw a notification of your contact push through before his phone shut off inevitably. He furrowed his eyebrows, spamming his power button to have it open again, just for him to realize his phone had died.

"Fuckin' great." Chris muttered, annoyed, throwing his phone back on the seat holder between him and Matt, not caring for the possible damages it could've done. "What the fuck is your problem?" Nick immediately interjected as Matt made a right, ignoring them both. He was equally having a long day, and wasn't in the mood for either of their bullshit.

"I didn't even look in your direction, Nick. Shut the fuck up." Chris huffed, fixing his seatbelt that now all of a sudden felt too tight on his body, shifting under it. "Excuse me? I'm sorry princess, I just wanted to know what your fucking problem was." His brother in the backseat mocked.

Not being fond of his tone, Chris instinctively reached a hand behind him to smack Nick, to which Nick blocked with an immediate slap back. "Don't fuckin' touch me." He lifted a pointed finger at him, to which Chris gave him a look of warning before turning his head to look back on the road.

"Yeah, you guys better fucking stop, we're on the road." Matt said as he stopped at a red light, his voice so monotone you could swear he didn't give a fuck.

"Shut the fuck up, Miserable Matt." Chris rolled his eyes, not realizing how much not being able to see your message was taking effect on his mood.

"I'm Miserable Matt? You're the one who randomly started acting like you'd rather be in hell than here." Matt argued back, keeping his eyes on the road.

By the time they made it to the parking lot, neither of them could stand each other. The tension was expeditiously high and they just wanted this to be over with. Chris kept asking what time it was throughout the entire video, which led to Nick getting annoyed. They couldn't stay on topic, fights emerged from thin air and they ended up needing to refilm.

Chris had given up attempting to fight back with them, realizing he was beyond late for the day he had planned out with you. His phone had died, and it was practically 7, the sun kissing its last goodbye for the day.

The moment the car video was done, he forced Matt to drive him to the beach. He didn't care, he was dedicated. "Hurry the fuck up Matt, hurry." Chris pushed, his seatbelt completely off as he sat on the edge of his seat, watching as the dim shore began to appear into view from a distance. "Chris, I can't go any fuckin' faster than this." Matt drove, overwhelmed by his brother's eagerness.

"Ugh, people are leaving already?" Chris whispered under his breath, ignoring Matt as his eyes scanned through the people, hoping to see you and apologize immediately. "Yeah, it's night time, Chris." Matt rolled his eyes. "Who are you even going to see?" Nick asked before stopping himself, his mind quickly putting two and two together. You had been the only one who asked them to come with you to the beach, Matt and Nick had both been together as the said question was asked. Not Chris though.

Nick kept quiet as Chris didn't bother answering him, Matt parks in the parking lot of the beach as Chris jumps out, immediately rushing to see if there was anyone left in the beach. His brothers stayed behind.

His eyes left the sight of people the moment it landed on them, he could recognize you from miles away, he was looking for nobody but you. It was beginning to get dark out, the dim atmosphere making the ability to look for you a little more struggling.

His shoes pressed against the deepening sand, scanning the very few remaining people on the beach. Until he caught a gaze of you drying your dripping body with a towel, as if you knew he was there, you looked up at him directly, catching sight of his eyes, and he felt his pulse quicken through his chest. He swallowed nervously, not because you looked mad, but because you wore no expression whatsoever.

You weren't someone to wear no expression.

-taglist-

@pepsiboyy @jetaimevous @luvr4miya @christopherscamopants @imwetforyourmom @mattssluttywaist @sturnsxplr-25 @flosslikeabosss @meg-sturniolo @stasiesturn @realuvrrr @always-reading @lovergirl4387 @sleepysturnss @milesfordays11 @nonat-111 @liagazed @freshloveforthefit @blueeyedbesson @h3arts4harry

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princessbrunette · 6 hours

Note

i woke up humping my pillow today . felt like this was a very pup experience n thought about this but with jombee :(

୨♡୧ 🎀 ᰔ 🎀 ໒ྀི꒰ ◞ ‌ ◟ ꒱ྀིა

you were in and out of dreams, delicious dirty dreams that left you wet and aching even in your slumber.

john b was a light sleeper. always had been, as he never had the luxury of feeling totally and one hundred percent safe up until this point. he hadn’t had to hide from anyone in a few years, but old habits die hard. he stirs from his sleep when his ears pick up on a quiet raspy whimper from beside him.

the morning light is being strained through the blinds and he takes a moment to adjust, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before turning to look at you. a warm and sleepy smile finds its way onto his face when he spots you beside him — cheek smushed to the one pillow beneath your head, drool darkening the light blue of the cover, you’re peaceful, except the occasional furrow of your twitching brows and your eyes squeezing harder shut. both of your arms are nestled beneath you, wearing just his tshirt and your panties you hold a pillow beneath your crotch, circling your hips and writhing your legs to stimulate yourself.

his smile turns to a chuckle as he sucks in a long inhale, shuffling closer on the bed. “oh sweetheart. what’s going on here, hm?” he cooes, his voice extra deep and raspy from his long rest. his slow speech is so soothing it doesn’t yet wake you, instead only encourages another quiet moan from your lips, humping a little harder. he kisses the back of your neck, warm hands finding your hips and helping you with your movement. “need daddy’s help, bub?” he mutters, and this time you wake up fully — whining in disorientation.

you go to turn, trying to figure out what’s going on and he shushes you before you can ask, taking the pillow and sliding it away from you. “yeah uh, i’d like my girlfriend back now.” he seems to address the pillow— effortlessly dragging your body to rest over his, replacing what you were grinding on before with his warm thick thigh. “have at it, puppy. let me help you, yeah?”

you brace your hands on his chest and your hips automatically move, yet you look up at him in confusion. “whats—”

“well, i woke up and you were making yourself feel good. thought i’d… help you out.” he smiles simply, shrugging a shoulder and you nod dumbly, so used to just accepting anything he said to you — and you were even more docile in this sleepy state.

you let out a small cry, pressing your mouth against his tshirt as he pushes his thigh a little firmer between your legs, humping to your hearts delight.

“yep, iiiiii know.” he hums, a hand slipping down between you and fighting your panties to the side so you could rut your bare cunt against his leg. your moans grow in volume and he nods to himself. “there you go.”

there were worse ways to start your day.

୨♡୧ 🎀 ᰔ 🎀 ໒ྀི꒰ ◞ ‌ ◟ ꒱ྀིა

#anon #john b prompt #puppy!reader

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toodelusionalforreality · 2 days

Text

Rare

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: Azriel's reluctant night out with his family turns out to be more interesting than he expected.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I have newfound respect for writers who have mastered group dynamics in their writing.

Word count: ~5.6k

Warning: None [minimal editing/proofreading/formatting]

‘Two weeks,’ Mor whispered, trudging forward with her eyes set ahead in a daze. Her heels hit the cobbled path with soft clicks. ‘They’re closed for two weeks. What am I going to do?’

Feyre looped her arm through hers and guided her away from the closed doors of Rita’s. No one took the disappointment as hard as Mor did. Still, they each expressed varying degrees of frustration with their grunts and groans. Cassian cursed aloud for it was his idea to enjoy a night like good old times. And he enjoyed a night like good old times every two months. However, that night, the rest of the Inner Circle agreed to celebrate the few peaceful months they'd had in a while.

Except for one.

Azriel was grateful for his family’s reunion and their safety. Only he wanted to celebrate it in the quiet of their home. His family didn’t spare him the courtesy of protesting. Knowing him well, they sent the middle Archeron sister to plead their case. One look at her hesitant eyes and he couldn’t deny the soft-hearted woman. He had one regret for the night—to have not flown off when he sensed Elaine’s presence on the other side of his door.

When Rita disclosed their misfortune, Nesta pinned him with an accusatory glare as if his ill will had manifested into the burning down of their beloved retreat. She would have calmed if Azriel had stood there with his usual blank stare. Instead, he lifted a brow as a smirk tugged at his lips.

Cass grumbled, ‘At least pretend not to enjoy this so much, you ass,’ without even looking at his brother.

‘Two weeks!’ Mor shrieked, throwing her arms in the air as she reeled out of the initial shock. ‘How could she do this to me?’ Her blonde hair swayed behind her with every shake of her head.

Rhys walked on her other side. Besides Azriel, he was the only one unbothered by the ruin of their plans. ‘I’m sure the fire in her kitchen had barely anything to do with punishing you.’ His taunting tone was the only sign of his apathy for his cousin’s plight.

Elaine’s voice perked up as Mor opened her mouth. ‘We could go somewhere else,’ she inched away with each word as if she expected another outburst. ‘It’s not that late.’

And that’s how Azriel came to hate the woman for the night.

He wasn’t cruel. He loved his family, and he agreed they deserved a break, but it wasn’t something he would sacrifice his peace for. He was ready with his own proposition—go back home, get drunk on faerie wine, and maybe some mirthroot if they resisted too much. His family would've had their merriment, and he’d have had his serenity.

As they stumbled and meandered through the streets, stopping at one place and the next, vetting out each other’s suggestions, Azriel found himself enjoying the moment—listening to his family’s usual banter, the comfort of familiarity built over centuries, and fussing over triviality instead of wars and courts. If his family chose to spend the entire night on the streets, he would gladly trade his peace for that.

Before he even finished the thought, his family arrived at their destination. The last on their list. Another bar. Or at least what it said on the polished plaque that hung above the rusty door frame.

Cass spoke first, ‘This is it?’ His words echoed the thought they all had in their minds.

Beyond the worn-out door held in place by a brick wedged between it and the doorframe was a harshly lit long room. Even the open door and cool breeze of the summer night couldn’t mask the stench of stuffiness from the dingy hole in the wall. Light flickered warning anyone dared contemplate entering the horrid place. Too narrow to hold any table or chair, there stood a single desk opposite the entrance. Two shelves nailed behind it sloped, the bottles stacked atop them slowly making their way to the edge. A place like that at the centre of Velaris was a swamp surrounded by beauty and life.

A woman rotten with age sat behind the table. Her hands jittered with each click of the needles held between her sharp, black claws. Her crooked nose curving past her thin lips and her non-existent ears were the only indications of her faerie blood other than her savage nails. Azriel couldn’t remember the last time he saw a creature that looked so old and fragile, yet with malice in her being, a kind of cruelty that lurked in her bones.

Despite what he witnessed, none of it deterred him that night. His body shook with silent laughter. All that wasted trip, endless stops to pick at the tiniest flaws only for his family to end up there.

Mother loved him. The complete disbelief on their faces was worth everything Azriel suffered since he opened his door to Elaine that night. Even his shadows seemed to enjoy the irony of their situation, skittering around his shoulders.

Mor turned to him sharply, her eyes alight with fire. ‘As long as there’s wine, this will do,’ she gritted her teeth.

Pushing his friend, whose only purpose in life was proving a point, was the last thing Azriel wanted to do. Yet it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass. How far would his family go? What would it take to break them? Would they give in and chuck down whatever wretched brew the suspicious creature offered? He merely bowed his head and waved at the door.

Mor swallowed her squeak of disgust as she crossed the threshold. Her eyes ran over the assortment of bottles on the shelves—three filled to the brim with pale green liquid, two half-filled with something that looked awfully like rotten blood, of what Azriel didn’t care to find out.

‘Do you suppose,’ she brought her eyes back to the woman, ‘you have any wine?’

The needles went silent for a beat, ‘Take your pick,’ and resumed. Not once did the creature glance at them as she jerked her chin to the shelf above her head.

With the seven of them now inside, the air turned hot and suffocating. Nesta pushed past to the front, standing next to Mor. ‘This is Pharus, isn’t it? The bar?’

Finally, the faerie looked up. Her eyes roved over their faces, their bodies, the detailing of threads on their clothes finer than the ones she held in her hands. ‘Of course,’ she snarled, ‘why else would you be here?’ Her lazy eyes rolled creepily in their sockets to stop at the door beside the shelf. ‘Over there,’ she said and went back to her hideous patchwork of browns and blues and pinks.

In the silence, a steady thrum of beats crept along the floor. A soft murmur lured them to trust the creature’s words and enter the unknown that awaited them behind the burnished wood, a portal out of the creature’s lair.

Mor stepped up to the door, her eyes on the glass doorknob—hypnotised, curious, so bright. As her fingers brushed against it, the faerie cleared her throat. ‘There’s a price for it,’ she added with a sly smile on her lips, a little thing that didn’t belong in her sagging face.

Azriel fished into his pockets while his family stared between the door and its guardian. His curiosity ebbed and grew to a point of no return. He had to find whatever called to him, whatever called to them. He dropped a gold on the table. It clattered on the wood, its ring echoing for a breath too long.

The faerie stared at it and then at him, and then his family, studying each of their faces. Her claws left scratches on the wood as she grasped the coin in her palm. She sniffed it, her eyes widening.

The door didn’t make a sound under Mor’s hand. One by one, they entered, and Azriel let the door close behind him. Their heels clicked on the polished wooden floor.

Every plush leather chair, strategically arranged table, and carefully curated decorations contributed to the elegance of the room. Soothing warmth enveloped them even on the summer night in a comforting embrace. The fragrance of spices cut through the musk of the wooden furniture. Golden orbs hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow across the space enough to enable their fae sight, but none too harsh like Rita’s.

A band sat on a raised podium at the far end, playing music that complimented their ambience. In the middle stood the majestic bar, a stretch of counter that ran along almost the entire length of the room. Bottles filled with various shades of liquor sat on the shelves behind—each of them, artistically planned and placed. Lights reflected off decanters and glasses set on trays, adding a bit of colour to the brown and gold theme of the room.

Faerie—high and lesser—took the seats without sparing each other a glance of discrimination. There was no stench of tension in the air, only a fragile calmness. Two servers shifted around the room speaking softly with polite smiles on their lips. A female tended to the bar, her hands worked with mesmerising precision. Despite the overflowing liquor, there wasn’t any loud cry, laughter, or chatter.

Luxury and safety were the words that came to Azriel’s mind. His shadows shaded his shoulders, falling quiet as they studied their new territory.

One of the servers led them to the only table large enough to fit them—close to the band, a bench along the wall on one side, and chairs on the other.

Once they settled, he spoke with a rehearsed tone, ‘I’m guessing you’re new here.’ The hitch in his breath told them he knew exactly who they were, and yet his smile remained. ‘We have two rules. One, we ensure the night’s peaceful here as much as possible. So, we don’t appreciate harassment of any kind, and I’d advise you to stay out of trouble. Two, if our barkeep cuts you off for whatever reason, you leave.’ His shoulders relaxed as if it were the most hated part of his job, and his smile turned more genuine. ‘Other than that, you do whatever you want. What would you like to drink?’

‘I’ll have faerie wine,’ Mor waited for no one, ‘Any wine. Don’t care how many.’ Her thigh pushed against Azriel’s as she shifted to a comfortable position on the bench, her warmth seeping past his leathers. A swift nod from everyone else had the server scrambling back to the bar.

Nesta inspected the surrounding faces. ‘What kind of moron expects drunks to follow rules?’

‘The one who doesn’t want to be held responsible for whatever happens when they are broken.’ Nesta’s eyes snapped to Azriel’s, and he shrugged.

Elaine looked between their faces, expecting the inevitable. But the Inner Circle indulged in spying on their night’s getaway. ‘Are we really ignoring what we saw outside?’

‘Oh,’ the server peered down at them as he set a tray with two wine bottles and glasses with a grace unexpected of his thick, manly fingers. ‘That hag is harmless. She just wastes her day knitting. If she bothered you, it’s because you’re new. Easy prey, you know? The regulars are used to her by now.’

Feyre reached for the glass offered to her. ‘Who is she?’

The server didn’t care to meet their eyes, but his words were eager. ‘She came with the building. This used to be her home. The old owner, her son, wanted to sell this bar. He found a better place for his family. But she didn’t want to move. Night and day they fought so much that people were afraid to even walk the street. Anyway, the son couldn’t resist our offer and sold it, and she—,’ he clicked his tongue, ‘she refused to leave with him. And N didn’t want to leave her homeless.’

Azriel didn’t particularly enjoy the conversation as much as his family did. It mattered very little to the server, whose words tumbled out in a single breath. Clearly, it wasn’t the first time he was telling the story to his customers. He would make a terrible spy, Azriel thought. Maybe a decent source.

'N?’

'She owns the place now. She gave the hag that hall. That’s where she and her husband lived before her son built a bar here.’ He sighed. His eyes swept over the rest of the room once he placed a filled glass in front of each of them. ‘It’s not good for business with a front like that. She scares everyone away. But N insisted, and we renovated around it. Most customers don’t even set foot inside after the first time. Some take pity and give her a few coppers. Not that she needs them though. N takes care of all her needs.’

He turned to them with a wide smile, with a server’s politeness. ‘Anyway, enjoy!’ He turned to leave and paused. ‘You didn’t give her anything, did you?’

Every pair of eyes at the table fixated on Azriel. He blinked, ‘A gold.’

‘You better stay away from her the next time.’ The server walked away laughing.

In his long life, and also as a spy, Azriel had met enough faeries ranging from the vilest to the kindest. Nothing fazed him anymore. Though it would have made quite a story on any other day, his focus remained on his family. He would rather figure out a way to coax his friends to leave early than uncover more about a hag and her benefactor. After a long night of searching for a bar which offered wine sweeter than Rita’s, he knew it would be almost impossible.

At her sister’s request, Feyre led Elaine closer to the band, both nursing their drinks in their hands. Loose chairs littered the open space in front of the dais, where they took a seat among other patrons. The musicians nodded at them with a smile.

Cass slammed his glass on the table. ‘I don’t like this place,’ he grumbled, looking at the well-behaved mob, ‘Where’s the fun here? This is not how a bar is supposed to be.’

‘Why? Is this place too classy for a brute like you?’ Nesta smirked, sipping her drink as she surveyed the place. She fitted right in.

Years of sneaking and spying had ingrained the instincts in Azriel’s very bones, impossible to separate who he was and what he did for his family, for his court. His hazel eyes didn’t miss a thing. His shadows stayed close and whispered in his ears. Careful, calculating.

Between the bar and the band stood two doors—one the servers often drifted in and out of with trays in their hands, a kitchen; and the other too pristine to be a back door or entrance to a storage room. An office, maybe. No one entered or exited it since his family took their seats across it.

His brother was wrong. The patrons enjoyed their time, but not the way people did in Rita’s. Like his family, they bundled together and shared a drink and a laugh with their loved ones. Their glazed eyes and flushed faces proved they indulged in the drinks as much as Cass did. A few cleared the space in front of the band, shifting the chairs around and waltzing to the music. A sense of belonging lingered in the air, unlike the mindless chaos that stained Rita’s.

As warned, the bartender declined drinks to a few. Even the ones who posed the most threat to start a fight walked away without resistance. Not one sound of protest or trouble followed.

Elaine and Feyre returned when the band paused to start their next song. As Elaine settled into the seat across from him, she gave the widest smile to Azriel. He smiled back. Rhys filled Feyre’s glass and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Cass and Mor still disagreed with Nesta on the essence of the true bar experience. Rhys took Nesta’s side only to watch his brother seethe with anger. With the remaining sisters returned to the table, it became clear Cass and Mor were losing the battle.

To add salt to their burn, Azriel trailed a finger along the rim of his glass and smirked. ‘I like this place too.’

‘You weren’t on board all night and now you have an opinion?’ Cass waved a hand of dismissal but his eyes burned with betrayal, ‘Go back to your brooding.’ Azriel grinned.

Laughing and stumbling, Mor headed to the bar. The bartender blushed so red that it wasn’t a mystery what she was up to. Minutes later, she returned with a bottle of amber liquor and a glass of a blue-green drink.

Bottles were emptied, banter was shared, and laughs grew contagious. Even though it was harmless, raucous laughter, they attracted the wary eyes of the server. Azriel knew where they were headed.

He slid Rhys’s glass of whiskey out of his grasp, who turned to him with an arched brow. He mumbled with a sigh, ‘We’d need more than one ride tonight.’

Rhys didn’t argue. He limited his drinks as much as Azriel that night for the sake of his mate. Ever since Feyre, his brother’s usual recklessness waned. He became more attentive and considerate in ways he had never shown before.

Both his brothers were equally troublesome. Cass with his wildness and brutality, and Rhys with his cunning and sly. And yet, after finding their mates, they were still all that and a bit more, someone better in every sense.

Azriel looked at Mor pressed to his side, drunk and smiling. The woman he once loved. And then, Elaine, the woman he wondered to be his mate.

Even with the passage of time and endless disappointments, his heart refused to let go of hope—such a fickle thing for an immortal life. An everlasting pain that turned the kindest of souls into a force of cruelty—worse than love, worse than torture, worse than death.

To have heard of and believed in a spiritual bond with another was one thing, but to see it with his own eyes and not long for it was not something even a damned soul like him could resist.

Who wouldn’t want something so precious divined by Mother herself, to be blessed by her, to be born fortunate to have a mate in their lifetime and find them?

Azriel knew love, he’d felt it. But how was it any different from a mating bond? Would a love be enough to save his wretched heart from himself? Could a love be as profound and sacred as a mating?

He looked at the happy faces of his family. Four of the seven—mated and in love. One with her supposed mate.

Rare of the rarest.

And there he was. An ordinary rock amongst gems. One Mother didn’t deem worthy enough. Maybe she was right. What was he, after all, but an unlucky bastard? What would it take for Azriel to be one of them? Shadowsinger. Warrior. Servant. Brother. Friend. Survivor. Tortured. Abused. Broken. What more did he need to be to appease the Mother to bless him with one miracle?

What would make him one of the deserving?

He took the glass he snatched from his brother and downed the drink in one gulp. The liquor burned his throat, a good burn, almost as good as the one his hands endured a long, long time ago.

Rhys turned to him with a blank stare. Azriel checked his mental wards and averted his eyes. It was pathetic enough to long for something that he couldn’t have. He refused to warrant pity from his brothers as well.

His family was together and happy. He breathed in the sweet aroma of the blue-green liquor Mor swirled in her glass.

It was a good night.

As he drank a little more, his shadows ventured out weaving through tables and shuffling feet. Azriel allowed it for a while before he reined them back. But they never answered when they returned, only dancing around his shoulders.

Moments later, they tried again, crawling down his back. The tug and pull of control slipped out of his hands as if an invisible force stripped them off him. A gentle caress over his shoulders, coaxing him, easing him to let go. And his shadows were willing to follow this force, betraying their loyalty to him. Azriel didn’t touch his drink after that.

As expected, the server approached their table and looked at him, the only one sober enough to be reasonable. ‘We won’t cause any trouble,’ said Azriel before he could speak.

His shadows swayed around the back of his neck and leaned to peer beyond the male in their path. They stood still, unmoving, watching, and then crashed into his shoulder, turning into a dark mist.

The server watched them wide-eyed. He shook his head and glanced behind him at the once-closed door, now open. ‘Maybe they could get something mild. Don't let N see them like this.’ With those words, he stalked back to the bar.

The room in front of him lacked the soft ambience of the bar with its golden lights and cosy furniture. A desk with a chair occupied the small space, giving a partial view of the bar outside. A woman bounded down the stairs that ran up from behind the door. She headed to the bar, exchanged a few words with the bartender, and went back inside the room. The servers paused by the door to greet her before they moved on.

To own a bar for high fae and lesser faeries alike, to have her workers and customers fear her, N was laughably docile. Azriel had spent long enough around women of strength and courage to never judge one by looks, but he couldn’t help it.

In her simple dark pants that flared at the hem and grey-white shirt, N was underdressed than her workers. She was as tall as Feyre, maybe a few inches taller. Her face held a hint of innocence, not close to Elaine’s, but something about her convinced she was harmless. Unless she had a sharp tongue like Nesta or had someone like Mor or Amren to do her bidding, it was unlikely she managed to keep her patrons in line by herself.

‘Azriel,’ called Mor from beside him. Her eyes were unexpectedly fierce after all the wine she had. ‘You’re drinking, right?’ She waved the empty glass in her hand.

He knew he should’ve said no. He glanced at the server across the room, but Nesta and Mor had already left for the bar. His attention drifted to the three drunk males who stood too close to a young fae trying to get away from them. She inched closer and closer to Mor who whispered into Nesta’s ear making her laugh. The shadows on his shoulders grew restless, creeping up and down his arms. He should have offered to get the drinks himself.

Cass was in the middle of narrating an elaborate plot of his fights in Illyrian war camps from their childhood days to Elaine as she leaned over the table with enthralled horror in her eyes. Rhys smiled smugly at his exaggerations while Feyre looked over at the bar, thinking the same as Azriel.

The crude comments of the three males circling the fae made the bartender stare between them with nervous eyes. The air silenced around them, nothing but their obnoxious laughter echoed. The smile on Nesta’s lips vanished, and Mor noticed. His friends at the table paused their conversation.

‘Come now,’ one of the male carried on, ‘don’t be like that.’

N looked up from the paper in her hand. She stared ahead at the wall where the male would have stood if it hadn’t been in her way. Dropping the papers onto the table, she reached inside a drawer. She stepped out of the room, cradling a leather bracelet to her right wrist, pulling its straps taut against her skin.

The bartender breathed in relief as N eased next to her and took a step back. N gathered her hair, securing it at the nape of her neck as the bartender whispered in her ear. Chunks of hair slipped free and framed her face. Her eyes swept across the bar, took in the faces seated before her, deliberately shifting over the three males. She stood in front of them, mixing drinks with precision and expertise on par with the bartender. She didn't lift her eyes up again.

The male moved close to the fae who immediately backed away. ‘Come on, love. It’s free drink. You should be grateful.’ He spoke into her ear but loud enough to be heard across the room.

A minute longer, and Nesta would have ripped that fool’s tongue with a shard of her broken glass. Azriel had seen enough bar fights—started a few and ended too many—to know when one loomed around the corner.

N’s eyes darted to the man’s hand reaching for the fae and then his face for a second while her body gave no sign of her attention on anything but the tumbler in her hand. A smirk tugged at Azriel's lips.

Maybe it was a bad idea to let Mor and Nesta murder a few males in a bar they had never visited before. Maybe it was a bad idea not to interfere with their authority which usually saved time with vermin like the male. Or maybe it was a bad idea to let the situation escalate, putting the fae in danger only to see N’s reaction.

But Azriel was not above making bad decisions to quell his curiosity. He leaned back and brought his glass to his lips.

‘She’s not interested,’ said N in a voice so soft and smooth. With her eyes on the pink liquor she poured into a tall glass, she added, ‘And she has a drink.’ Her eyes met the fae's, gentle yet firm. She pushed the glass with her index finger. The fae heaved a sigh of relief and reached for it.

The male turned his attention to N with a wicked smile. ‘The coins are to shut your mouth, pretty.’ He ran his vile eyes over her and winked. ‘I’ll come back for you later.’ With a bone-grating chuckle, he returned to the fae who backed towards the tables. He blocked her path with his hand, ‘So, what do you say?’

Oh, how Azriel wanted to tear every tooth from his jaws.

N finally looked at him. Her eyes were calm and intense, a reassured stillness in them. She straightened and placed her hands on the counter. And it was enough to shift the air around them. The woman who commanded respect from her patrons was in the room instead of the quiet, lingering spirit that drifted in and out moments earlier. The band slowed their music, and the ones who refused to look at the ruckus dared to glance their way.

‘I’m going to ask you to leave.’

The male let out a grunt, mean and vulgar. ‘Shut up, you bitch.’ A grimace of impatience replaced his smile. He hissed at the fae, ‘You’re starting to make me angry.’

His eyes widened as a hand grabbed the back of his hand and shoved it face-first onto the wood of the counter. His arms flailed miserably to stop the impact, only to fail. The following crunch made the fae flinch away.

N let go and walked around the bar, her steps calculated and leisured. Her dainty fingers slipped through two gold rings attached to the inside of the bracelet. ‘You okay?’ she asked the fae softly as she pulled the fingers away, two cords of metal unwinding between the rings and the leather. Once she got a frantic nod from the fae, she diverted her focus to the crying male who swiped at his face and stared at his bloodied hands.

Cass snorted. His drink sprayed through his nose, drenching himself and poor Elaine. Rhys’s eyes gleamed with amusement. Feyre looked between N, Nesta and Mor.

The male screeched to no one in particular, ‘That bitch hit me.’ His nose flared and spurts of blood leaked soaking his shirt. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he lunged forward.

N sauntered ahead with lazy steps and swerved when his fist came close. Her left hand went around his head once. The male stumbled forward by the wasted force of his body and his neck caught in the cords.

N pulled her hands back to her sides, the cords went taut, and the male fell to his knees. His bloodied fingers pried at the noose around his neck. His breaths grew shallow and raspy. Blood sprinkled from his nose with each strain of his chest. His pained cries echoed in the quiet. Not even his friends attempted to help him.

‘Whining on the floor,’ N curved her wrist around his head again, watching his eyes grow wider, ‘Leash on your neck. You sure you aren’t the bitch?’ She looked down at him with void eyes as her fingers clawed his jaw open.

Her other hand reached for a bottle on the counter, her eyes never leaving his. She tipped the bottle close to his mouth and his breath left his chest in a painful heave. ‘It’s free drink, love.’ Her voice was a lover’s purr, low and soft. As the liquor filled his mouth and streamed down his shirt mixed with the red of his blood, she gritted her teeth, ‘Be grateful.’ The first emotion she showed.

It was inappropriate.

Utterly inappropriate.

A deep chuckle ripped from Azriel’s throat, loud enough to warrant the glances from his family and the ones beside their table.

When the male choked and his eyes blurred, N stopped. Her fingers released him and slipped out of the rings with a simple flick. The rings whipped spraying drops of amber-red in the air before it latched onto the bracelet again, the cords disappearing between the black of the leather. She turned to his friends, ‘Don’t come back.’

They nodded, their eyes wide, and began to back away. The cries of their friend brought them out of their stupor and they carried him out with his blood staining the once perfect floor.

N blinked.

Once they were out the door, she went back behind the counter, and time resumed. The band began their music again. Servers shuffled to clean the floors and check on the fae. The bartender wiped at the splotches of blood on the counter with a rag.

N cleaned her hands and continued with her other orders. As she offered drinks to the ones still waiting at the bar, she smiled. Azriel set his glass down.

When she reached Mor and Nesta, she studied their faces and uttered a few words. Mor pointed at their table with a grin, her eyes sparkling under the light swaying over her head.

N spared each of them a glance. Her eyes paused at Cass and his wings, Azriel and his wings, and finally Rhys and behind him where his wings should have been. The shadows didn’t appreciate the scrutiny. They went erratic around his shoulders and for a moment her eyes returned to the shadowsinger again.

‘She’s judging us,’ Rhys muttered through his grin. The amusement in his eyes flickered and N held his gaze. ‘Rather harshly,’ he chuckled.

Feyre frowned at him. ‘Stop it!’

Rhys’s smile fell from his lips. He hummed, staring at N for a beat too long before he turned to his mate. ‘It’s not my fault. Her mind called to me,’ he kissed her cheek.

Azriel wanted to ask what his brother meant, but knew better. His shadows quietened around him, still as midnight air, draping over his shoulders with their ghostly weight. They didn’t sing to him much that night.

Mor and Nesta returned with a tray of drinks. N wrapped an arm around the bartender and whispered in her ear. Her eyes were soft and her lips still held a smile. The bartender relaxed and sighed. Azriel wondered if there was more between the two. N rushed out of her room at the first sign of trouble and took charge of every responsibility while the bartender stayed safe and recovered.

‘I like this place!’ Mor exclaimed as she slumped next to him and handed him a glass after taking one for herself.

Cass only cursed under his breath. ‘Because she gave you free booze?’ He stole a drink for himself, ‘But that show was fun.’

‘So was yours,’ Nesta laughed and pointed at his soaked front.

N accepted a sealed plate from the server with a smile and headed to her office. Her fingers paused at the doorknob. She looked down at her shirt. Crimson spotted along her torso below her ribs. She ran her fingers over them once, slowly. She blinked and wiped again at the dried stain. And again. Then she closed the door.

Once the glasses were emptied, Mor hated the place again. The drinks N offered sobered them completely. Grumbling and muttering their disapproval at the trickery and betrayal, Mor and Cass walked out of the bar with the others trailing behind them.

Azriel sneaked a glance at the locked door smiling before he joined his family. It was indeed a good night.

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days

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hello ! i would like to make a small(? request

aventurine, jing yuan, dan heng and blade with a gn! reader that always stand up by themselves (against bulliying or smth like that) but are too tired to keep doing it, maybe how they would react? (of its too complicated to understand a tired reader is okay ) ty so much! and take care –☆

Aventurine spoils you nonstop with whatever your heart desires in an expression of thanks for everything you did for others, expecting nothing in exchange.

In his eyes you deserved to be pampered and treated with the highest of honour for selflessly standing up for not just yourself, but for others who couldn’t do so themselves.

So naturally fatigue was going to catch up with you after a while of doing the same thing day in and day out and Aventurine could tell that you wanted nothing more then a slow, lazy day within the confines of your shared bed, being lulled off to sleep by the sounds of your cake critters that you both had somewhat adopted.

‘Relax and let me spend as much as I want on you.’ He told you once when you asked him to not waste such large quantities of money on you, and in such a short amount of time too that it was concerning. ‘For no amount of money that I spend on you could ever repay for the kindness and resilience you’ve shown for yourself and countless others.’ He adds as he presses soft, sweet kisses to your cheeks, lips and forehead.

‘You spoil me too often.’ You say as you cuddled a cake critter to your chest.

aventurine shrugs. ‘Am I not meant to? Because to me that sounds like a challenge to spoil you even more.’

You then decided that it would be best to not tempt aventurine even further as you knew firsthand that he would pull out all the stops if you asked him, and so instead you just told him that you wanted to spend the lazy day with him, before opening your arms for him to cuddle himself into you as you both soon fell asleep together in peace.

Jing yuan would advise that you rest and would even encourage you to rest yourself against him if that helped you ease into sleep easier.

‘You are brave,’ he began softly as you rested yourself fully against his side, ‘your kindness will not be forgotten by the people you’ve helped for kindness is a virtue that not many possess.’ He adds, pressing a kiss to your forehead, holding you close as he watches as your eyelids begins to flutter shut. ‘This merely means that you are a unique, rare soul amongst a river of other souls imbued with selfishness and greed.’

Jing yuan would praise you for being strong for as long as you have and probably hum a small tune lowly in your ear as he aided you into a peaceful slumber.

He wants you to rest as much as possible and he may or may not join you as an excuse to have a small nap, if anyone were to come looking for him and accuse him of sleeping on the job, he’d merely smile and say he was resting meditation while cuddling you against a wall.

Nobody believes this excuse because when does anyone meditate while cuddling someone at the same time? No one. Absolutely no one.

However Jing Yuan didn’t care as your health and well being was his main priority and would ask that if anyone had things to ask of you to forward them to him instead and have them dealt with in due time, just as long as they respected that you were on a break. He will no have you burn yourself out over simple matters when he was more then happy to deal with them on your behalf.

Blade would wordlessly take over in standing up for you against anyone and anything the moment he saw that you had grown the slightest bit tired.

He admired your strength of staying strong for so long but would much rather if you left the protecting to him. After all he was made for this, he was made to be your weapon against all those who’d raise issue with you, so why don’t you just lay back as he defended you tooth and nail if he must.

‘I can defend myself.’ You barked at him once and he looks at you unblinkingly.

‘Haven’t you already done that enough?’ He asks and when you couldn’t find something to say in retaliation he continued. ‘Thought so, just leave everything to me while you rest.’

You maybe stubborn but Blade took the word stubborn and gave it a whole new meaning with how determined he was that you take time to focus on yourself and let him handle those who sought to drag your name through the mud.

For to him you’ve done enough standing up for yourself as it is, it was time for him to step up when you couldn’t find the strength to continue the fight a day more. He’d even do small acts for you without you ever having to ask him.

You’re feeling thirsty? There’s a glass of water nearby that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Don’t feel like making your favourite comfort food? Blade’s got you, it may not be the best but it was the thought that counted.

You can’t find it within yourself to get changed in the morning because your limbs felt like lead? Don’t worry because blade was more then willing to dress you in the most comfortable set of clothes in your possession.

There was no task too big or small for Blade as for all he cared was that you were well taken care of, he was your guard dog that always looked out for you no matter what because if he had it his way you’d never have to lift a finger.

Dan heng would commend you for your selfless acts but the moment he sees the toll it’s taken on you, he’s insisting on doing almost everything for you in hopes of making things a lot easier for you.

‘You’ve done enough for today, you should rest and let me take care of everything in your stead.’ He’d say as he’s reading one of his books to you in bed.

Much like blade, Dan Heng would do small acts of service for you without you ever having to ask him because he wants your period of rest to be the most enjoyable it could possibly be.

If you want cuddles, he’ll do it but don’t be surprised when he starts purring and his tail appears to latch onto your waist, keeping you close as he nuzzled your neck.

He’d make sure you’re kept hydrated and feed throughout the day, and will remind you that it wasn’t much of a bother to him looking after you because he loved looking after you and that you shouldn’t feel like a burden during this time, before press a kiss to your forehead as his thumbs carefully stroked just under your eyes.

He’d gladly make you breakfast in bed if you wanted, all you had to do was ask and he’d happily do his best to provide for you.

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chaithetics · 2 days

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Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long.

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace.

“Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him.

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile.

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks.

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss.

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?”

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you.

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still.

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip.

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles.

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris.

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you.

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb.

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile.

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer.

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier.

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

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tuwlips · 3 days

Text

Honeymoon 🎐

contents: Arrange marriage trope | Slow burn | Angst | One sided love? Part 2 to this

Silent confessions.

Nanami once took you to the beach. Calm waves, the tranquil shore and Nanami.

Nanami.

Nanami was so beautiful. You could only stare from afar. His sand gold hair, soft like the sea foams. How peaceful he looked.

A click of the camera in your hand at the exact moment he smiled at you.

Red tinted ears when he realized you took a picture of him. Eyes widened in shyness.

Some of the photos you took at the beach ended up in an album of Nanami's.

A picture of you two, the sky, the sands, a picture of you.

“Shall we put the picture you took of me here?"

“Oh- uh, about that," you looked down in embarrassment. “I-.....I lost the picture, I'm sorry.”

“Oh, it's okay, not a big deal." Soft smile and gentle reassurances.

If you did indeed lost the picture, then how did it end up in your wallet? He was sure you told him you lost the picture that day.

When you asked Nanami to grab your hair clips from the wallet he certainly didn't expect a picture of him in there.

All this time you kept a picture of him. Kept a part of him with you. How could he be so foolish?

The answers to his questions. Why you were so distant, so far. Why you always looked like you were hurting. Why sometimes your eyes would be red and puffy.

And now he looked at you smiling and laughing with your cousins. How long has it been since he last saw you smile or heard you laugh.

How long have you been hiding how you felt about him. And why?

Why did you not tell him.

Nanami hated how all this time he treated you just as his wife and not an actual partner who shares a life with him. You had feelings, feelings which he hurt by being so dense. He treated you as a responsibility. But you loved him.

Loved him enough to not tell him as to not wanting to hurt his feelings.

He hated how he failed to make you happy. In fact being the very reason you felt unhappy.

Nanami wasn't in love with you. But he wanted you. What was this complicated feeling.

He hated how he couldn't reciprocate your feelings. But there was something deep inside of him that had a very strong attachment to you.

What was this attachment?

Taglist > @brazenliar @erishishigami @ffyona1214

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento angst #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #comfort character #beach Nanami is my favorite #nanami x reader angst #jjk angst #nanamin

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imthebadguyyy · 9 hours

Text

The Alchemy

pairing : lewis hamilton x reader

fandom : f1

series : the tortured poets department

warnings : none. fluff.

a/n : one of my favourite songs on the album and it just seemed so fitting for lewis?!

this happens once every few lifetimes...

The faint smell of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air as you perused the shelves of your favorite, hidden-away bookstore. It had been your sanctuary for months, a place where the weight of fame and the constant scrutiny of the public eye couldn't reach you. You pulled your hoodie tighter around your face, hoping to remain unnoticed in this quiet haven.

You were known to the world as a dazzling pop sensation, your songs dominating charts and your name lighting up marquees. But here, you were just another book lover seeking solace in the written word.

As you wandered through the aisles, your fingers danced over the spines of novels and poetry collections. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the tall figure turning the corner of the same aisle.

Lewis had always found a unique peace in bookstores, a stark contrast to the roaring engines and high-octane adrenaline of the racetrack. That day, he was seeking a quiet moment away from the world of Formula 1, hoping to get lost in a good book.

He glanced up and saw you—a woman with an aura of quiet mystery, your face partially obscured by your hoodie. Yet, there was something familiar about you. He watched as you pulled a book from the shelf, your eyes lighting up with recognition and joy.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, not wanting to startle you. “That’s a great choice.”

You looked up, startled, and then your eyes widened slightly as you recognized him. Lewis Hamilton, world champion, standing just a few feet away. You offered a tentative smile, your nerves betraying you.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice a tentative whisper. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Lewis smiled warmly, sensing your initial apprehension. “I’m Lewis,” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“I know who you are,” you said, your smile growing a bit more confident as you shook his hand. “I’m... well, you probably know who I am too.”

He chuckled. “I do, but it’s nice to meet you away from all the cameras and crowds.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the shelves as if seeking comfort from the books surrounding you. “It’s rare to find a place where you can just be yourself, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Lewis agreed. “That’s why I love places like this. It’s like stepping into another world.”

You fell into an easy conversation, discussing your favorite books, the pressures of fame, and the rare moments of peace you both cherished. For a while, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you amidst the comforting silence of the bookstore.

As the conversation flowed, you discovered a shared love for poetry. You mentioned a collection by Rumi that had always resonated with you. Intrigued, Lewis asked if you would read a passage to him.

You hesitated for a moment before pulling the book from the shelf and opening it to a dog-eared page. Your voice, soft and lyrical, brought the words to life, and Lewis found himself captivated by the raw emotion in your reading.

“Beautiful,” he said quietly when you finished. “You have a gift.”

You blushed, the praise warming you from within. “Thank you. It feels good to share it with someone who understands.”

You exchanged numbers, promising to stay in touch and perhaps meet up again at this quiet sanctuary. As you parted ways, you felt a spark of something you hadn’t experienced in a long time—hope.

Lewis watched you leave, a smile playing on his lips. It was rare to find someone who truly understood the complexities of your worlds. In the quiet aisles of that bookstore, amidst the words of poets and authors, you had found a connection that felt as timeless as the books around you.

And as you stepped back into the world, you did so with a lighter heart, knowing that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

i haven't been around in so long...

The cozy nook of the bookstore in Milan had become a secret retreat for you, away from the prying eyes and relentless pace of your public life. You were flipping through a collection of contemporary Italian poetry when your phone buzzed. It was a message from Lewis. Since that serendipitous meeting in the bookstore a few days ago, the two of you had been exchanging texts about books, life, and everything in between.

Lewis: Found another Rumi quote for you. "The wound is the place where the Light enters you."

You smiled at the message, feeling a warm connection. You typed back a reply.

You: Beautiful. Rumi always knows how to get to the heart of things.

Lewis: Speaking of hearts, how about we grab some coffee and gelato? I know a great place nearby.

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of spending more time with him sounded wonderful. You quickly replied.

You: I'd love that. Where should we meet?

Lewis sent the location, and you made your way through the charming streets of Milan, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You arrived at a quaint café with a picturesque view of a cobblestone piazza. Lewis was already there, waving at you with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing up to pull out a chair for you.

“Hi, Lewis,” you replied, taking the seat and feeling instantly at ease.

He ordered a couple of espressos and a selection of gelato flavors, and the two of you settled into a comfortable conversation.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “tell me more about your music. I’ve been listening to your albums non-stop since we met.”

You chuckled, a bit shy. “Well, I’ve got a mix of rock, pop, and ballads. My last single was ‘City Lights,’ a rock anthem, and before that, it was ‘Eternal,’ a ballad about love and loss. And there was ‘Midnight Echo,’ a pop track that’s just for fun.”

Lewis nodded, clearly impressed. “I love the range. You’ve got such versatility. Do you have a favorite?”

You thought for a moment. “I think ‘Eternal’ is my favorite. It’s the most personal one. But honestly, it’s hard being so exposed. Everyone scrutinizes every word, every note.”

Lewis’s expression turned serious, empathetic. “I can understand that. Being in the public eye is tough. Every race, every interview, it’s all out there for everyone to judge.”

You sighed, grateful for his understanding. “It feels like you can never truly be yourself, you know? There’s always this pressure to be perfect, to live up to expectations.

My whole life, people have been telling me I'm not good enough, my music is generic, I go out with too many guys, I'm just so sick of all the attention. People forget I'm still figuring my life out. I'm in my late 20s, I'm allowed to be a little lost you know?" You admitted, sighing and taking a bite of your raspberry gelato.

Lewis reached out, his hand gently covering yours. “I get it. There are days when I just want to disappear and be normal. But we have to remember why we started. The passion, the love for what we do.”

His words resonated deeply with you. “You’re right. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that when you’re caught up in everything. But moments like this, they make it worth it.”

Lewis smiled, his eyes meeting yours with a look that made your heart flutter. “Exactly. Finding someone who understands, who really gets it, makes all the difference.”

The chemistry between you was palpable, an unspoken connection that seemed to grow stronger with every shared word. As you finished your gelato, Lewis leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours.

“This has been great,” he said softly. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

You nodded, feeling the same. “I feel it too. It’s rare to find someone who truly understands.”

He stood up and offered you his hand. “How about a walk? There’s a beautiful park nearby.”

You took his hand, a smile spreading across your face. “I’d love that.”

As you walked through the sun-dappled streets of Milan, you felt a sense of lightness, a joy that had been missing for so long. With Lewis by your side, you realized that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to find balance amidst the chaos. And in that moment, with the city of Milan as your backdrop, you felt a connection that was as sweet and enduring as the gelato you had shared.

these chemicals hit me like white wine...

The sun was setting over Tokyo, casting a warm, golden glow over the city. You were at a rooftop bar with Lewis Hamilton and his friends—Miles, Spinz, and a few others. The air was filled with laughter and the sound of clinking glasses as everyone enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere.

You had been spending more time with Lewis since your bookstore encounter, and he had invited you to meet his friends. You were nervous at first, but their easygoing nature quickly put you at ease.

Lewis’s arm was casually draped around your shoulders, a subtle yet sweetly affectionate gesture that made you feel cherished. His friends were animated, joking about their latest adventures and teasing Lewis about his racing habits.

“You should have seen Lewis last week,” Miles said with a grin. “He tried to cook us dinner and almost set the kitchen on fire!”

Everyone burst into laughter, including you. Lewis playfully rolled his eyes. “Hey, I was experimenting with new recipes!”

“You mean experimenting with how to call the fire department,” Spinz quipped, making everyone laugh harder.

Lewis looked at you, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Next time, I’ll just order in. What do you think?”

You smiled, feeling a warm rush of affection. “I think that sounds like a safer plan.” You had to conceal a blush when he raised your hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the skin of your knuckles.

As the evening continued, you felt more and more comfortable. Lewis’s friends were genuinely welcoming, making you feel like part of the group. At one point, Miles turned to you with a kind smile.

“We’re really glad to see you feeling more comfortable in your own skin,” he said sincerely. “It’s not easy being in the spotlight all the time.”

His words hit you unexpectedly hard. You felt a lump in your throat as you tried to find the right words to respond. “Thank you,” you said softly, your voice wavering. “It means a lot to hear that.”

Lewis gently squeezed your shoulder, his touch grounding you. “You’ve been amazing,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and admiration. “These past few weeks, getting to know you, it’s been incredible.”

You looked into his eyes, feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion. “You’ve helped me so much,” you whispered. “Being around you, it’s like… these chemicals hit me like white wine. I feel so much lighter, happier.”

The group fell silent for a moment, touched by the sincerity of the moment. Then Spinz raised his glass. “To new friends and feeling good in our own skin,” he said, breaking the emotional tension with a heartfelt toast.

Everyone raised their glasses, and you clinked yours with Lewis’s, feeling a sense of belonging you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As the night went on, Lewis continued to be sweetly affectionate, his hand often finding yours or his arm wrapping around you protectively. You found yourself leaning into his warmth, savoring the feeling of being cared for and understood.

Eventually, the group moved to a quieter corner of the rooftop, the conversation becoming more intimate. Lewis’s friends shared stories of their own struggles and triumphs, creating a bond of shared experiences. You listened, feeling a deep connection with these new friends who had welcomed you so openly.

When the night finally wound down, Lewis walked you back to your hotel. The streets were quiet, and the city lights twinkled around you. He stopped in front of your door, turning to face you.

“Tonight was amazing,” he said softly. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me too,” you replied, your heart full. “Thank you for everything, Lewis. You’ve made me feel so… alive.”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead tenderly. “You are incredible,” he whispered. “Don’t ever forget that.”

With those words lingering in the air, you felt a sense of peace and happiness you hadn’t known in a long time. As you watched him walk away, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

the worst sleep that I ever had...

The moonlight filtered softly through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a gentle glow over the room. You were tossing and turning, trapped in the grips of a horrifying nightmare. In your dream, the paparazzi were everywhere, their flashing cameras blinding you, their voices shouting questions that echoed around you, hounding you, drowning you, consuming you. No matter how fast you ran, you couldn't escape their relentless pursuit.

You woke up with a start, heart pounding and breath coming in rapid gasps. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, making it hard to shake off the feeling of being chased. You grabbed your phone from the bedside table, your fingers trembling as you dialed Lewis’s number.

“Hi darling” came his groggy but concerned voice on the other end. “What’s wrong?”

“Lewis,” you managed to say between ragged breaths, “worst sleep I ever had.”

“What happened?” he asked, his voice instantly more alert. “Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I had a nightmare. I was being chased by the paparazzi, and I couldn’t get away. It felt so real, and I… I’m still shaking.”

Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lewis said soothingly. “I’m here. Just breathe with me, alright? In and out, slowly.”

You followed his instructions, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, his calm voice helping to steady your racing heart.

“That's it,” he continued gently. “You’re safe. It was just a dream. No one is chasing you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the fear and relief mixing together. “I’m sorry to call so late,” you said, your voice trembling. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“You never have to apologize for needing me,” Lewis said firmly. “I’m glad you called. I want to be here for you, always.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, comforting and reassuring. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he replied. “But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re in this together.”

You felt a wave of emotion surge through you, the depth of your feelings for him hitting you all at once. “Lewis,” you began, unsure how to put it into words.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice filled with tenderness. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now. I love you, and I want to be here for you, no matter what.”

Tears of a different kind filled your eyes—tears of joy and overwhelming emotion. “I love you too, Lewis,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I love you so much.”

“I wish I could be there with you right now,” he said softly. “Hold you and make sure you’re really okay.”

“Just hearing your voice makes it better,” you admitted. “But I’d like that too. Can we meet soon? I'll fly over to London to meet you?”

“Absolutely,” he promised. “First thing in the morning. I'll book you a ticket too. Until then, try to get some rest. I’ll stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep if you want.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “I’d like that. Thank you, Lewis.”

He began to speak in a soothing tone, telling you a funny story from his childhood, his voice like a lullaby. As you listened, the panic slowly ebbed away, replaced by the warmth of his love and the comfort of his presence, even from a distance.

“I’m here,” he murmured as you started to drift off. “I’ll always be here. Sweet dreams, love.”

With those words, you finally felt safe enough to close your eyes, knowing that with Lewis by your side, you could face anything—even the nightmares.

i circled you on a map...

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over your hotel room in New York. You had just finished a busy day of interviews and rehearsals when your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis.

Lewis: Hey, I've got something exciting to ask you. Can we talk?

You smiled and quickly dialed his number. His voice, always a source of comfort, answered almost immediately.

“Hey, you,” he greeted warmly. “How’s my favorite pop star?”

“Exhausted,” you replied with a laugh. “But happy to hear your voice. What’s up?”

“Well,” he began, his tone filled with anticipation, “I’m heading to Monaco for the Grand Prix this weekend, and I was wondering… would you like to come?”

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of seeing him in his element, surrounded by the thrill of the race, was incredibly appealing. But a flicker of doubt crossed your mind.

“I’d love to,” you said hesitantly, “but you know how the paparazzi are. I don’t want to cause a scene or distract you.”

Lewis’s voice softened, filled with reassurance. “I circled you on a map, love. I want you there with me. You don’t have to worry about the paparazzi. I’ll make sure you’re safe and secure. We’ve got a great team, and they’ll take care of everything.”

The sincerity in his voice melted away your doubts. “You really want me there?” you asked, feeling a rush of emotion.

“More than anything,” he said. “I want to share this part of my life with you. Plus, my team is dying to meet you. They’re all huge fans.”

You chuckled, the image of Lewis’s team fangirling over you bringing a smile to your face. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic!” Lewis exclaimed. “I’ll have everything arranged. You just pack your bags and get ready for an unforgettable weekend.”

The excitement in his voice was contagious. “I can’t wait,” you said, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Two days later, you found yourself on a private jet to Monaco, the journey smooth and filled with excitement. As you landed, a sleek car was waiting to whisk you away to the racetrack, where Lewis’s team had arranged a private entrance to ensure your arrival was discreet.

You had made sure to wear all black and to wear sunglasses to be as discreet as possible, and you own security, Paul and Rio had insisted they accompany you too.

Lewis was there to greet you, looking effortlessly handsome in his racing gear. His face lit up when he saw you, and he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You made it,” he whispered into your ear, his voice filled with happiness.

“I did,” you replied, smiling against his shoulder. “Thanks for making this happen.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Anything for you. Now, let me introduce you to the team.”

As you walked into the paddock, Lewis’s team greeted you with a mixture of excitement and awe. Engineers, mechanics, and support staff all gathered around, their faces lighting up with recognition.

“Guys, this is my amazing girlfriend,” Lewis announced proudly. “And yes, she’s every bit as incredible as you think.”

A very excited Toto walked up to you, pulling you into a hug and saying with a wink "glad to finally meet the woman who has stolen his heart" and you laughed.

The team members took turns introducing themselves, each one more enthusiastic than the last. One of the engineers, a young woman named Mia, was particularly starstruck.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Mia exclaimed. “I’ve been listening to your latest album on repeat. It’s incredible!”

“Thank you so much,” you said warmly. “I’m really excited to be here and see what you all do.”

Lewis kept you close, his arm around your waist, and you could feel the pride radiating from him. Throughout the day, he made sure you were comfortable, showing you around and explaining the intricacies of the race preparations.

During a quiet moment, he took your hand and led you to a private area overlooking the track. The roar of the engines and the buzz of activity seemed distant as he turned to you, his expression serious but full of love.

“I wanted you here because you’re such a big part of my life,” he said softly. “I love you, and I want you to know that no matter where I am or what I’m doing, you’re always on my mind. You’ve circled my heart, and there’s no ggoing back.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you smiled at him. “I love you too, Lewis. Thank you for making me feel so special and so loved.”

He leaned in and kissed you tenderly, the world fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. When you finally pulled back, the noise of the racetrack returned, but now it felt like a backdrop to your own private romance.

“Ready to watch me race?” he asked with a grin.

“Absolutely,” you replied, feeling a newfound sense of excitement and belonging. “Let’s do this.”

As the race began, you stood with his team, cheering him on and feeling a deep sense of pride and love. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you and Lewis would face them together, stronger than ever

I'm making a comeback to where I belong..

The excitement in the air was palpable as fans gathered for your one-night-only concert in London. The venue was electric, filled with eager anticipation. This was a special show, and you had something unique planned for the night—dedicating some of your most romantic songs to the Speedster who had stolen your heart.

Backstage, you were a mix of nerves and excitement, knowing that Lewis and some of his closest friends, as well as a few fellow drivers, were in the audience. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself why you were doing this. It was for him, to show him just how much he meant to you.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted into cheers as you took the stage. After a few opening songs to warm up the crowd, you stepped up to the microphone with a smile.

“Good evening, everyone,” you began, your voice carrying over the hushed audience. “Tonight is a special night, not just for you all, but for me too. I want to dedicate a few songs to someone very special in my life. He’s fast, he’s fearless, and he’s captured my heart. This one’s for you, Lewis.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and you could see Lewis’s friends nudging him, grinning widely. Lewis, in the front row, was blushing furiously, a shy but happy smile spreading across his face.

The opening chords of “Lover” began to play, and you poured your heart into the performance, your eyes finding Lewis’s in the crowd.

“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January, and this is our place, we make the rules…”

The lyrics felt more meaningful than ever as you sang them, every word a testament to your feelings for him. You could see Lewis’s friends—Miles, Spinz, and some of the drivers—beaming and capturing the moment on their phones, clearly enjoying the sweet, romantic gesture.

As the song ended, you transitioned smoothly into “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince,” the crowd swaying and singing along.

“You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, it's you and me, there's nothing like this…”

Lewis’s blush deepened, but his eyes never left yours, filled with admiration and love. The energy in the room was electric, each song drawing you closer to the grand finale.

The gentle, haunting notes of “Delicate” filled the air next, and you felt the connection with Lewis grow even stronger.

“Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it’s delicate…”

The vulnerability in the song mirrored your own feelings, and you could see it resonating with Lewis, his expression softening with emotion. The audience seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

After the final notes faded, you took a moment to catch your breath and let the emotion of the night sink in. The crowd was roaring with applause, but all you could focus on was Lewis, standing there with a look of pure love and pride.

“Thank you, everyone,” you said into the microphone, your voice filled with gratitude. “And thank you, Lewis, for being my inspiration and my heart. This night wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Lewis, surrounded by his friends, who were clapping and cheering, looked both bashful and incredibly touched. You stepped down from the stage, making your way through the crowd to where he stood. The fans parted, giving you space, and you reached him with a radiant smile.

“You were amazing,” Lewis said, his voice full of admiration. “Thank you for that. I’ve never felt so special.”

“You make me feel the same way every day,” you replied softly, wrapping your arms around him.

His friends began to chant playfully, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and you both laughed, the moment filled with joy and affection. Lewis didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and kissed you tenderly, his friends erupting into cheers and applause once more.

When you finally pulled back, you saw tears of happiness in his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the noise.

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of celebration, with Lewis’s friends and fellow drivers gushing over your performance and congratulating Lewis on having such an incredible girlfriend. The energy was infectious, and you felt on top of the world, knowing that you had shared such a special part of yourself with the man you loved.

As the night drew to a close, Lewis pulled you aside, his eyes glowing with happiness. “This was the best night of my life,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

“Mine too,” you replied, leaning into him. “Thank you for being my inspiration.”

With that, you both knew that this night was just the beginning of many more shared dreams and unforgettable moments, united by love and music.

where's the trophy, he just comes running over to me...

The atmosphere at Silverstone was charged with excitement as the roar of engines filled the air. It was race day, and the tension was palpable as fans eagerly awaited the start of the Grand Prix. Among the crowd, you stood with Lewis's family—his parents, brother, and father—all anxiously watching as the cars lined up on the grid.

As the race began, nerves gave way to anticipation, each lap bringing Lewis closer to victory. The tension mounted with each passing minute, the air crackling with energy as the cars sped around the track.

Nicholas squeezed your hand as the cameras panned to your anxious face, the words "y/n l/n : Lewis Hamilton's partner" appearing on the screens, making you feel a little ooey gooey on the inside.

Finally, the moment arrived—the checkered flag waved, signaling Lewis's victory. The crowd erupted into cheers, and you felt a surge of pride and joy for him. His family cheered alongside you, their faces beaming with pride.

Amidst the celebrations, you caught sight of Lewis, his helmet off and his face a mix of exhaustion and elation. He climbed out of his car, surrounded by his team, and made his way to parc ferme, parking in the no 1 spot, pumping his fist in victory.

As he stood, the cameras flashed and the crowd roared their approval. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Lewis's gaze found yours in the crowd.

You watched as his expression softened, a smile spreading across his face as he made eye contact with you. And then, without hesitation, he leaped off the podium and ran towards you, his victory lap forgotten in the moment.

The crowd gasped and cheered as Lewis approached, his eyes never leaving yours. Cameras flashed, capturing the raw emotion of the moment as he reached you, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace.

In front of the cameras and the paparazzi, Lewis leaned in and kissed you, the world fading away as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. His family cheered even louder, their joy at his victory mingling with their happiness for you both.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, passionate and fuelled by victory, so emotive and filled with so much as he tilted you down, and the crowd went even wilder.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the euphoria of the moment, united by love and shared triumph. And as you pulled back, breathless and smiling, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memories forever—a testament to the power of love and the thrill of victory at Silverstone.

a/n : fin!! this was such a cutesy fic to write and i hope you liked it! as always comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated!! love u guys!!

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x reader imagines #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #lh #lh44 #lewis hamilton fic

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crguang · 2 days

Text

each other’s destiny

As you travel with the Astral Express, you need to focus on the future ahead of you and let go of the curiosity you feel towards your past. That can’t happen if you keep running back to Kafka.

trailblazer!reader, some tiny angst, 2.4k words

A/N: if i had kafka’s number i’d send her the most unserious memes i have on my phone every 2 hours. this is kinda messily written i apologize

Guilt nags at you as you set up your phone against the pillows on your bed, making sure that you can be seen in the front facing camera.

You sit against the headboard, knees to your chest and arms resting over them. The line rings once, twice, and just when you think you’ll have to call a second time, she answers with a small smile. As always, you can only see a blank wall past her figure, nothing that alludes to where she is tonight. She’s sitting at a desk with a cheek in the palm of her hand and a yellowish light source highlighting her clean skin. Where you would feel a sense of curiosity and peace at the sight of her, like an invisible balm soothing your open wounds, a sense of guilt now lingers in your gut. You don’t know the exact moment it settled there, just that it follows you like an ominous shadow with each day spent on the Astral Express after the Xianzhou Luofu’s Stellaron crisis.

“What’s the face for?” Kafka’s raspy voice is clear through the phone, a new discomfort mixing with a deep familiarity that you still don’t fully understand.

You rest your chin on your forearm. You can’t be bothered to reciprocate her easy expression with the heaviness of your chest. You stare into the screen as you think of a way to express yourself clearly. When you take too long to answer, Kafka tilts her head in question.

“I don’t think… we should keep doing this,” you say softly.

Kafka’s small smile doesn’t waver, but something in you believes that she wasn’t expecting your reply.

“Where’s that coming from?”

It’s strange. This sluggishness in your bones, the sadness that envelops you at the idea of distancing yourself from her, shouldn’t be there. You don’t know her. You hold little recollection of who she is and who you were, there is only a thread of familiarity curled around your heart that tugs whenever she’s near. In all the ways that matter, she is nothing— a faint trace of the person you might’ve been, the lingering ghost of a past you can’t remember. You’ve chosen to only look forward the moment you stepped on the Express, where everything that guided you towards the trailblaze becomes irrelevant. You shouldn’t care for what you were because you are a Nameless living in a continuous present; the journey and who you share it with mold you, not a past you can’t seem to shake. You want to be like March, full of life and anticipation for the next adventure, instead you are haunted by her and the incomprehensible tug of your heartstrings.

Your weekly video calls started the second week of you traveling with the Astral Express. You didn’t know about the Stellaron Hunters then, what they did and why, though the latter still eludes you. You only knew the feeling in your gut when Kafka smiled, like you enjoyed the sight many times before. She revealed nothing to you but you couldn’t sense any malice in her interest, so you answered her calls each time your phone rang. You know more, now, about the Nameless and the trailblaze; about what the Stellaron Hunters are prepared to do to achieve their goals; about the galaxy you’re traveling around. You are no longer ignorant and you can’t pretend to be just to indulge the mortal urge to cling to past memories. You feel you are betraying your companions with the… fondness for her that resides deep within your cells. You can’t bear the guilt anymore.

“The Stellaron Hunters…” you pause, then correct yourself, “you don’t care about hurting others. The Luofu’s casualties could have been avoided.”

“People will always have to die for a cause. People have died to elevate ideals since the beginning of humanity. Besides, we made sure you guys saved the day, didn’t we?”

“That’s not right.”

Kafka chuckles and the condescension of it makes your lips purse. She observes you for some time, though you can’t discern what hides behind her practiced appearance.

“You’re even starting to sound like them,” she says, only a touch amused, “seems like you’re fitting in fine with the Express crew.”

“I sound like them because I’m a Nameless.”

“Right.”

She doesn’t add anything else. You let the gentle whirring of the train’s engine calm the growing frustration in your stomach. It’s unfair how Kafka gets to know who you are— were— and you don’t. You don’t enjoy the subtle ways in which she reminds you of that fact either, it makes you feel ignorant, like a toddler who knows little of the world and needs someone to hold their hand. She holds the answers to your questions and chooses to keep them close to her chest for a reason you can’t figure out. You wish you didn’t care, that you could embark on a new planet with your friends and not think about what she’s doing at the same moment. A part of you, smaller, wishes she wasn’t the first face you saw when you woke up on the space station.

“I have something to ask,” your arms wrap around your propped up shins as you speak, “answer me honestly.”

“I can’t promise you I will.”

“Why do you entertain me?”

“…Entertain you,” Kafka repeats to herself, eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“Why reach out to me and set up these calls every week? We don’t say anything of substance during them, why waste your time with something so pointless?”

“You don’t like talking to me?”

“That’s not what I…” Your features harden when you catch her teasing smile. You ignore her attempt at redirection and continue, “Just answer me.”

Kafka shrugs a shoulder, tucking a strand of hair falling into her face back behind her ear. “I don’t find our talks pointless.”

You don’t know why her reply annoys you, maybe because it doesn’t make sense; you mostly discuss how you’re doing and the new things you’ve discovered on your journey. Kafka asks mundane questions and you answer them in the quiet of your room, softly retelling your week as she watches you grow drowsy in the process. Then you wonder about her and after a few vague half-truths, she masterfully redirects the conversation back to you. By then, you’re too tired to comment on it. Apart from helping you fall asleep when you usually would stay awake until early in the morning, your weekly calls amount to nothing. How can they hold any kind of significance for her? You know why you answer your phone. Despite it all, you can’t help the faint sense of comfort that comes with her presence and in a world of new sensations, it feels nice to have something like that to come back to even if you have no idea what it stems from. You can’t wrap your head around why she keeps calling, however. You suppose it’s not far-fetched to think she might feel the same way you do, since she’s told you about how she was the one who supposedly taught you everything you know. Still, she doesn’t seem like the type to dwell on the past.

A slow, tired sigh escapes you as you cross your legs and run a hand over your face to alleviate the fatigue of your body. Kafka watches you through the screen, her lips a thin line. You rest your elbows on your thighs and cup your cheeks, staring head at the wall filled with pictures March took of Belobog and the Luofu. You photobombed most of them so she let you take them and helped you put them up in pretty patterns with colorful string lights she had laying around in her closet.

“I’m sick of being kept in the dark,” you mutter.

“I understand. Elio makes sure I only know what I need to, and I have to do the same for you.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need or don’t need to know.”

“…Maybe not.” Kafka drums her fingers on the desk. “Your journey matters more than the past, it’s unchangeable and therefore irrelevant. Focus on where you are now and the rest will fade away.”

“So everyone keeps saying. Do I not deserve to know who I am?”

A tinge of irritation laces your words and judging by Kafka’s pause, she’s noticed.

“I don’t want the past to fade away,” you continue, straightening up in a sudden surge of passion, “I want to know. I want to know why you—”

You cut yourself off and she raises a brow.

“Why I what?”

“Doesn’t our past shape our present?” You ask instead. “How can I just go on not knowing who I was before?”

Kafka decides not to acknowledge your diversion. She shakes her head. “Your case is an exceptional one. There’s nothing for you before the Stellaron because you are an artificial body created for that purpose only.”

“So, that’s it? I’m a… a robot, and it starts there.”

“No. You are human in all the ways that matter and extraordinary in every other aspect. That’s when it starts.”

You hear the conviction in her statement. You don’t feel the relief you thought would come with the truth. You can’t put it into words but you feel almost empty, like parts of you are missing and in their place stands a shapeless void. You didn’t get to grow up, to have parents or a family, to learn how to walk, talk, read— you are alive and yet you haven’t truly lived. If people are made up of experiences, you are not a full person yet. It’s uncomfortable to think about and does nothing to alleviate the heaviness of your limbs.

There’s a bulge in your throat that doesn’t go away after you’ve swallowed twice. You stare at the marine blue sheets of your bed for some time, lost in thought. Kafka reclines on her chair, a strange expression on her face. She’s looking at her screen but her mind seems elsewhere as well. A moment passes in silence before you find the strength to speak up about something you’ve wondered since you awoke on Herta’s space station.

“If there was nothing prior to hosting the Stellaron,” you start slowly, “then where does my connection with you come from?”

“I told you on the Luofu that I was in charge of teaching you before I put the Stellaron in your body.”

“Is that why you care?”

Kafka smirks a beat too late for it to be natural. “What makes you think I care?”

“Because I care. Even if I don’t understand why.”

She stares at you through the phone and you meet her gaze without flinching. She doesn’t allow herself to be quiet for too long but you think you’ve put her in a somewhat difficult position. You doubt anything that comes out of her mouth will be truthful.

“Well,” Kafka says with a dismissive shrug, “we did spend some time together, that also explains why you remember me.”

“So we were close.”

She takes a while to reply, looking at something past her screen. Her voice is low, thoughtful, underlined with a sort of wistfulness, “Mmm… You used to follow me around like a puppy, always trailing behind me and asking all sorts of questions.”

She doesn’t seem amused as she speaks even though the words are meant to tease you. You think maybe she misses that. Kafka smiles, but it’s an empty one.

“You’ve grown since then.”

There it is again, that lump stuck in your throat, the feeling that you’re missing something important and that your lack of memories creates a glass wall between the two of you. You can’t understand the look in Kafka’s eyes and the softer edge to her features, if only for the instant she uttered these words. You don’t know why you’re sad when you initiated this goodbye or why it feels like the end of something unexpected, a period of time that belongs to her and someone else. You are unable to remember, but it’s not the case for your body; your shoulders drop and you fight the urge to rub your throat so its muscles relax a little. Somehow, you know that you will only miss her at first, on the days when everything is new and you can’t rely on the familiarity of her voice.

“…It’s late,” you manage to say, and Kafka hums in agreement, gaze never leaving yours.

There’s a sudden knock at your door, the noise making you tense and turn towards it in suspicion until a voice sounds from beyond, slightly muffled yet entirely recognizable. Himeko softly calls your name from outside your bedroom and asks if you’re still awake.

“Just a minute, Himeko!”

Your head snaps back to your phone, alert and aware that she can’t know who you’re in a call with. Kafka observes the conflict on your face with a humorless chuckle.

“Looks like you’ve got company.”

“I need to go,” you reach for the device, pausing for a few seconds as your thumb hovers over the hang up button. “I won’t be calling next week.”

“…I know. We’ll see each other again.”

You hang up with a trembling sigh. You throw the phone on your bed and stand up to answer the door, rubbing your tired eyes. Himeko stands on the other side, a teacup in hand. She’s in a long nightgown, a robe over her shoulders, and she smiles when she sees you; the kind of smile that unconsciously makes your lips mimic hers. Her pretty hair is loose and her eyes are bare of any makeup, exposing the faint crinkles at their corners. The sight of her reminds you of the journey you’re on and of the reliable companions that walk beside you. You feel better than you did a moment before.

“I know you have trouble sleeping and I saw the light coming from under the door, so I made you some tea in case you needed it,” she says, handing you the cup, and you take it with gratitude blooming inside your chest.

“Oh,” you exhale, not knowing what to say. “Thank you. Why are you still up?”

“I may have overdone it with caffeine today,” Himeko laughs quietly. “I’ll be awake for a while. We can talk until you doze off if you’d like. You’ll need all your energy for tomorrow.”

You stand there, fingers gripping the tiny cup as you stare at her. You feel seen under her casual attention and though it isn’t familiarity that washes over you, it’s a comfort nonetheless. You nod, stepping aside to let Himeko in, and the easy way in which she makes herself comfortable in the armchair near your bed makes you light.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr x reader #kafka x reader #hsr x you #kafka x you #hsr #hsr fanfic

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doctorbitchcrxft · 24 hours

Text

Nightmare | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, descriptions of suicide, canon violence, canon gore, mentions of parental abuse (plsplspls heed these warnings and take care of yourself!!)

Word Count: 7370

A/N: Bye me when I scheduled this to post a day early...... goodnight. lmfao. enjoy!!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

While Dean drove and you lounged sleepily in the backseat, Sam was on the phone asking for the identity behind a license plate he’d seen in a dream. Sam had come to wake you up from a peaceful slumber in the middle of the night, shouting that you needed to leave then and there.

He didn’t elaborate much until he got in the car, but even then, his explanation was frantic and disjointed.

“Sammy, relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare,” Dean tried to coax his brother.

Sam was unconvinced. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I mean it. Y'know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see,” Dean said calmly.

“It felt different Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house. And Jessica.”

“But in those, you were dreaming about your house, your girlfriend,” you jumped in. “But this guy… have you ever seen him before?”

Sam shook his head.

“Exactly,” Dean answered. “Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan.”

Sam sighed. “I don't know.” He perked up when the man on the phone began to speak to him again. “Yes, I'm here.” Sam side-eyed you and Dean. “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address?... Got it. Thanks.” Sam hung up. “Checks out. How far are we?”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “At least a couple hours.”

“Drive faster,” Sam ordered his brother.

***

When you arrived at the home of the man from Sam’s dream, you were surprised and dismayed to see police cars, ambulance, and a body bag being rolled out of the garage of the home. You looked up at Sam, who was upset, as you walked over to bystanders.

The bystanders explained that Jim Miller had been found in his garage with his engine going and the garage door closed. It had been ruled a suicide. You knew from Sam, though, it wasn’t. Speaking of whom, he walked away from the crowd and back over to the car.

“Sam, you couldn’t have done anything,” you told him.

“Then why am I having these dreams if I can’t stop it?” He sounded agitated, but you knew it was more at the situation than you.

“Sam, we got here as fast as we could,” Dean responded, approaching you and his brother.

Sam shook his head and sighed. “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” the older brother suggested. “Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all.”

The younger one shook his head again. “I'm telling you, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, guys. I watched it trap him in the garage.”

“Did you see what it was?” you questioned.

Sam got a little worked up. “No. I don't know why I'm having these dreams. I don't know what the hell is happening.”

You stared at Sam for a moment, as did Dean.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “We’re just… worried about you, dude.”

“Well, don't look at me like that!” Sam was becoming more panicked by the second.

“I'm not looking at you like anything,” Dean responded. “Though, I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Nice. Thanks.” Sam made a bitchface.

You opened the door for Sam. “C’mon, dude. Let’s pick this up in the morning.”

“We'll check out the house; talk to the family,” Dean continued.

“Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not going to want to talk to us," you told him.

Dean thought for a moment. “Yeah, you're right. But I think I know who they will talk to."

“Who?”

***

“Are you sure this was necessary?” you asked, tugging at the habit draped over your head; hair itching underneath it. You wore a long sleeve shirt with a knee-length dress over the top. Dean had decided to dress you and his brother in nun and priest outfits respectively.

“Just trust me,” Dean answered. He rapped his knuckles on the door of the Miller household where they were having Jim MIller’s wake.

Sam sighed. “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Yeah, but it’s the most put-together your hair’s ever looked,” you smirked, referencing the copious amounts of gel you’d combed through his hair.

Sam deadpanned at you just as the door open.

“Good afternoon. I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Stanley and Sister Frehley. We're new junior clergy over at St Augustine's. May we come in?” Dean introduced.

The man nodded.

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Sam told the man who had let you inside.

“It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed.”

You could hit Dean. He was really laying it on thick.

The man snapped, “Look, you wanna pitch your whole 'Lord has a plan' thing? Fine. Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead.”

“Roger. Please!” a blonde older woman scolded from behind him.

“Excuse me.” Roger left.

“I'm sorry about my brother-in-law. He's… he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?” the woman, who you assumed was the former Mrs. Miller, asked.

“That would be great.”

Dean sat on the couch next to you and Sam took the armchair. Ms. Miller poured each of you a cup. “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all god's children,” Dean smiled.

You shot him a look, waiting for the woman to walk away. “Tone it down, Father,” you whispered to him.

Ms. Miller returned before Dean could reply to you, and he instead spoke to her. “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that.” Her voice began breaking. “We had our ups and downs like everyone, but we were happy. I just don't understand… how Jim could do something like this.”

“I'm so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam told her.

Ms. Miller looked behind her at a boy leaning against the wall whose face was etched into a scowl. “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe I go talk to him?” Sam asked.

Ms. Miller smiled. “Oh, thank you, Father.”

You looked around the living room as Sam walked away. “You have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?”

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answered.

“Some of these old houses bring all kinds of headaches,” you continued. “Weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night. That kind of thing.”

Ms. Miller shook her head. “We don’t have any of that. It’s been perfect.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Huh. May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it's just up the stairs,” the woman responded.

Dean stood, taking a cocktail sausage on his way up the stairs.

“I apologize for Father Simmons. He’s… still learning,” you sighed once Dean was out of earshot.

Ms. Miller gave as much of a laugh as she could muster. “It’s okay. He’s got a good heart.”

You smiled at her. “Thank you for your time,” you said, and began discreetly heading up the stairs.

When you met Dean and Sam on the second floor, they shook their heads indicating they knew the question you were going to ask.

“Seriously?” you chewed the inside of your lip. “Nothing?”

“Zip,” Dean answered.

“Okay then. Back to square one.”

***

Sam left you and Dean alone in his motel room for a bit to do some research on the Miller home’s history. You helped him clean weapons he’d brought to his and Sam’s motel room.

You took the floor. You always did. You just liked to sit on the floor as opposed to the itchy quilts that normally adorned the motel beds. And it gave you more space to spread the weapons and cleaning supplies out. Without looking up at Dean as you continued to polish Dean’s handgun, you asked, “So, what’re your thoughts on your brother’s sixth sense?”

Dean blew out a huff of air. “I don’t have any thoughts.”

“Dean, don’t lie to me. Spill.”

He hesitated. “I just don’t know. I mean, I’m not psychic. My mom wasn’t. My dad isn’t. So where the hell would he have gotten it from?”

“I’m not sure,” you said earnestly, pursing your lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Does he scare you? I see the look on your face sometimes, especially over the past few days. I can’t exactly place what it means.”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighed. “I mean, I’ve known this kid his whole life. And suddenly he— he’s predicting people’s deaths? Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Well, there’s the difference. It scares me that he’s going through this, but he doesn’t scare me. He’s still Sam,” you answered.

“Well, yeah. Obviously he’s still Sam. I just— I guess I’m less scared of him and more scared for him. I don’t know.” You could practically see the gears in his head turning.

You stared at him as he continued wiping down his weapons and cleaning the chambers of his guns. You decided the reason why your gut had churned over Cassie in Ohio was because you were used to being the only woman in his life. You loved how honest he was starting to get with you; especially because you didn’t even think he was that honest with himself.

“What?” His question broke your train of thought.

“Huh?”

He smirked. “You’re staring. See something you like?”

You scoffed. “You wish. I was thinking.”

“ ‘Bout what?”

“That’s confidential,” you remarked.

He gave you a look. “Mm-hmm.”

Sam came through the door at that moment.

“What do you have?” Dean asked his brother.

“A whole lotta nothing.” Sam sat on the bed next to your spot on the floor. “Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built.”

“Not even the land?” you questioned.

“No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property.”

“Hey, man, I told you,” the older brother said, “I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfur scent. Nada.”

“And the family said everything was normal?”

“Yeah, nothing I asked rang any bells for Ms. Miller,” you replied.

“Well, even if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something?” Dean added. “I used the infer-red thermal scanner man, and there was nothing.”

“So what, you guys think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?”

“I don’t know. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house,” Dean answered.

Sam began rubbing his temples. “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house.” He paused and took a deep breath, holding his head. You straightened up in confusion. “Maybe it's just— Gosh.” Sam was clearly in agony. “Maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?”

“What’s going on?” you asked.

He started to groan and sink to the floor next to you. “My head.”

You put your hand on Sam’s shoulder to steady him while his brother crouched before him. “Hey! What's going on? Talk to me.” Dean was desperately trying to get his brother’s attention, but it seemed he was zoning further and further out. Sam’s head would have hit the floor if it weren’t for you and Dean holding onto him when he dropped.

“Sam?! Sammy?!” Dean began shaking his younger brother by either side of his face trying to get him to wake up.

You jumped up to go get him a cold towel for his head. While you were in the bathroom searching for a washcloth to dampen, Sam shot up. “It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller.”

***

Sam made you and Dean leave pretty much immediately. Dean was trying to remain calm for his brother on the way to Roger Miller’s apartment, but it was clear to you he was beginning to freak out.

“If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over. Y'know, cause the upholstery…” Dean sassed.

Sam’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Just drive, Dean.” Sam looked over to his brother, huffed out a breath, and looked back to the road. “I'm scared, man. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful.”

Dean briefly looked over to him. “Come on man, you'll be alright. It'll be fine.”

“What is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?”

“We’ll figure it out, Sam,” you assured him.

“We've faced the unexplainable every day,” the older brother added. “This is just another thing.”

The brunet shook his head. “No. It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out.”

You looked at Dean expectantly.

“This doesn't freak me out.”

You leaned over the seat and hugged Sam around the shoulders, and you could feel some of the tension leave his body as you did so.

***

You and the boys were just a second too late. Roger wouldn’t let you into the apartment building, so you opted to sprint up the fire escape. In the midst of you running up the steps, you heard metal grating against metal and a wet squelching noise.

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, urging yourself to go faster. You made it up the stairs just before the other two could and discovered Roger’s head lying below his apartment window in a flower box. Your stomach churned, but you knew you had to get out of there quickly.

“Start wiping down your fingerprints,” Dean told you and Sam, holding out his bandana to his brother, “we don't want the cops to know we were here. Come on, come on!”

You used your jacket sleeve to push up the window of the apartment that led to the fire escape. “Dean, I’m gonna take a look inside. You coming?”

He followed you in to quickly search the apartment before you hit the road once more. Just like at the Miller’s house, you saw nothing.

“I saw something, in the vision,” Sam explained once you’d gotten back to the car. “Like a dark shape. Something was— something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?” Dean questioned.

“No, it's connected to the family themselves. So what do you think, like a vengeful spirit?”

“I mean, potentially,” you responded. “Some spirits ‘ll latch onto families, follow ‘em for years—”

“Angiak, Banshees,” Sam added.

“Basically like a curse. So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse worthy.”

“And now the something is out for revenge,” Sam continued. “And the men in their family are dying.”

“Hey, you think Max is in Danger?” you asked.

“Let's figure it out before he is.” Dean drove faster.

“Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people,” the brunet continued.

“What's that?”

“Both our families are cursed.”

‘Oh, shit,’ you thought.

Dean huffed. “Our family's not cursed! We just… had our dark spots.”

Sam snorted. “Our dark spots are… pretty dark.”

Dean’s face scrunched uncomfortably. “You're.... dark.”

“I think you guys are just weird,” you laughed.

“You’re… weird.”

“Dean, I feel like I’m listening to your brain short-circuit in real time.”

“Shut up, (Y/N).”

***

You and the boys went back to the Millers’ house dressed in your priest and nun outfits. The shifty boy from the funeral that Sam had talked to opened the door.

“My mom's resting, she's pretty wrecked,” he explained. “All these people kept coming with like, casseroles? I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know cause nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole.”

Sam smiled sadly, and Max smiled back. He gestured to the living room and all of you took a seat.

“How are you holding up?” you asked the boy.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Your dad and your uncle were close,” Sam added.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.” Max’s tone made him seem uncomfortable, and something about him had you uneasy, too.

“But not lately?”

“No, it's not that. It's just… we used to be neighbors when I was a kid,” Max explained. “We lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.”

Sam nodded. “So how was it in that house when you were a kid?”

A look of surprise crossed Max’s face. “It was fine. Why?”

“All good memories?” Dean pressed further. “Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?”

Max shook his head. “What do ya....why do you ask?”

Red flags were popping up in the back of your mind repeatedly. Your hands clenched your skirt tightly.

“Just a question,” Dean answered.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy.”

“Good. That's good. Well you must be exhausted. We should take off.” Something in Dean’s voice told you that he was sensing the same things you were.

***

Once you were back at the motel and changed, you went to the boys’ room.

“Guys, something is not right about the way Max was acting,” you said.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean responded. “I think we gotta go visit that house.”

***

And so, you did. The three of you headed to the edge of town to visit Max’s childhood home.

You found a man outside of his home tending his garden when you and the boys arrived at the Millers’ old home. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Dean asked.

The man responded, “Yeah, almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?”

You shook your head. “No, no, actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” the older Winchester added.

“Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what's this about, is that poor kid ok?” the man asked you.

You tilted your head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Well, in my life I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street; he was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of.”

Your heart clenched. You knew exactly what that was like.

“This was going on regularly?” Sam inquired.

“Practically every day,” the older man explained. “In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy. But the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

“Now you, said step-mother.”

The older man looked off as if remembering. “I think his real mother died. Some sorta… accident. Car accident I think,” the man responded.

Sam raised a hand to his head and grimaced.

You turned your head to him. “You okay?”

Sam winced but nodded nonetheless.

“Thank you for your time,” you told the man you’d been talking to. You then began to help Dean toward the car. Once you’d gotten him settled inside, his head lolled back against the seat. While Dean drove, you leaned over the backseat to keep an eye on Sam.

When he woke back up, he said, “Max is doing it. Everything I've been seeing.”

“What? How do you know?” you questioned.

“I saw him,” the brunet replied.

“How's he pulling it off?” Dean jumped in.

‘I don't know, like telekinesis?”

‘What, so, he's psychic? A spoon bender?”

“I didn't even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died. These visions, this whole time— I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess— because we're so alike?” You could see Sam’s mind racing.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed frustratedly. “What? He’s nothing like you, dude.”

“Well. We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

Dean gruffly cut his brother off. “Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third.”

“Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane.”

“Sam, that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family,” you responded. You knew that better than anybody.

“(Y/N)...”

Dean pulled over in front of the Millers’ current home. “He's no different from anything else we've hunted, all right? We gotta end him.”

“We're not going to kill Max,” Sam protested.

“Then what? Hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind’?” You nearly laughed at Dean’s response despite the situation.

“No way. Forget it.”

Dean turned the engine off and faced his brother.

“Dean, He's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one,” Sam pleaded.

The older brother paused. “Alright, fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else.” He removed his signature Taurus pistol from the glove compartment. You grabbed yours from under your seat and shoved it into your jeans.

You and the boys practically broke into the home.

Mrs. Miller and Max were standing in the kitchen. Both seemed upset. “Fathers?” Mrs. Miller asked. “Sister?”

Max gritted his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dean said.

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam asked.

The boy seemed suspicious. “About what?”

“It's— It's private. I wouldn't want to bother your mother with it,” answered the brunet. “We won't be long at all though, I promise.”

Max nodded and went to follow you out the front door. Before Dean could open the door, the doorknob pulled out of his hands.

“You're not priests!” Max yelled. Dean went to draw his pistol, but Max pulled it away with his powers and slid it across the floor to himself. He pointed the gun at you and the brothers, and you quickly drew yours.

“Max, what's happening?” Ms. Miller asked, voice shaking.

“Shut up,” the boy gritted through his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

“I said, shut up!” Max flung his step-mother across the room, and she hit her head on the kitchen counter. The blonde crumbled to the ground unconscious.

“Max, calm down,” Sam urged, trying to gesture to you to put your gun down.

“Who are you?” Max’s eyes pooled with angry tears.

“We just wanna talk.”

“Yeah, right, that’s why you brought these!” He indicated the gun he was holding as well as yours.

“That was a mistake all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max ok? Just please, just hear me out.”

“About what?” the teen’s voice calmed down only slightly.

“I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened,” Sam explained.

Max faltered.

“I'm having visions, Max. About you.”

The boy laughed coldly. “You’re crazy.”

“So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” Sam tapped his eye. “Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max, look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here all right? I think I'm here to help you.”

Max began to cry harder. “No one can help me.”

“Let me try. We'll just talk, me and you. We'll get Dean, (Y/N), and Alice out of here,” Sam said.

“No way,” you and Dean said in unison.

The chandelier above you began to shake. “Nobody leaves this house!”

“Max, c’mon, dude, let Sam and I talk to you. We’ll send Dean and your stepmom upstairs, and I’ll put this away,” you said, referring to your gun.

“Look, Max. You're in charge here, alright, we all know that,” Sam told him. “No one's going to do anything that you don't want to do but we’re talking five minutes here man.”

“Five minutes?” Max looked over to Dean. “Go.”

Dean rushed to Ms. Miller and gently brought her upstairs. Dean took one last look at you and Sam before going upstairs.

“Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through—”

You cut Sam off. “I can.”

Max looked at you, surprised and angry. “How?”

“My parents did the same thing your dad and stepmom did to you,” you explained. “But I’m not gonna kill somebody over it. This has to stop, dude.”

“It will, after my stepmother—”

“Do you really think that’s gonna stop it?” you asked. “Really?”

He stared at you, and you felt you were beginning to get through to him.

“Does it feel different now that your dad and uncle are gone? Do you feel better?” you pressed further.

“No, but it will,” spat Max through his tears.

“I don’t think so, kid,” you replied. “It doesn’t feel different for me. My parents are dead and gone, and it still fucking hurts.”

“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to look at them every day.”

“Can I be honest with you though? I wish I could. No matter how many times my dad hit me, I still want his approval. I still want to see him again.”

Max shook his head. “Not me. I’m happy my dad’s gone. You haven’t been beaten in a while, huh?”

You replied, “No.”

“Try last week.” He lifted up his shirt to reveal a large bruise littering his ribcage. “My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly.

“When I first found out I could move things it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless but now I had this. So last week Dad gets drunk. The first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell, first time in a long time. And then, I knew what I had to do,” Max explained.

“Why didn't you just leave?” you asked.

“It wasn't about getting away. Just knowing they would still be out there. It was about… not being afraid. When my Dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?” Max asked you and Sam.

“Yeah, I do,” you replied.

“He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my Mom's death,” Max continued.

Sam’s interest was piqued. “Why would he blame you for your Mom's death?”

Your breath caught in your throat when Max gave his explanation. “Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault.”

“She died in your nursery?” Sam questioned.

“There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!”

You discreetly looked to Sam.

“Listen to me, Max. What your dad said, about what happened to your Mom. It's real,” Sam told the boy. “It happened to my Mom too, exactly the same. My nursery, my crib, my dad saw her on the ceiling.”

Max laughed coldly. “Your dad must have been as drunk as mine.”

“No, no. It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers.” You could tell Sam was excited by the missing puzzle piece being filled in. “This must be why I'm having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. 'Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities, they started six, seven months ago, right, out of the blue?”

“How'd you know that?” Max tried to remain calm, but you could tell he was intrigued.

“Cause that's when my abilities started, Max,” Sam went on. “Yours seem to me much further along but still, this has to mean something right? I mean for some reason, you and I… you and I were chosen.”

Max’s tears subsided. “For what?”

The younger Winchester sighed, “I don't know. But (Y/N), my brother, and I; we're hunting for your Mom's killer. We can find answers, answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go, Max. You gotta let your stepmother go.”

The boy thought for a moment. “No. What they did to me? I still have nightmares. I'm so scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for that next beating. I'm so sick of being scared all the time, I just want this to be over!”

“Max, it won’t. Don’t you get it?” You were incredulous. Had he not been listening at all? “The nightmares won’t end, dude. They still wake me up screaming. Killing your stepmom isn’t gonna fix anything. I know, dude. Trust me on this one. Please.”

“I’m sorry.” The tears returned to his eyes and a twisted smile crossed his features before you were flying through the air and into the closet. The doors slammed shut on you, and you saw a heavy piece of furniture covering the place where the two doors met.

You and Sam began banging on the doors. “Max, no! Goddamn you!”

To make matters worse, Sam started holding his head and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. When he came back-to, he shouted, “No, NO!” And the heavy furniture moved from holding back the closet doors.

You and Sam froze, staring at each other for a moment before pushing the doors open and sprinting up the stairs. You busted through the door to the bedroom you could hear Dean’s voice coming from.

“No, don't! Don't! Please. Please,” Sam begged him. You noticed the gun trained on Dean who stood in front of Ms. Miller. “Max. Max. We can help you. Alright.”

“Kid, I know it fucking sucks,” you continued. “But this, what you're doing, it's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything.”

Max was suddenly a mess. His shaking hands and sweating forehead became more apparent to you as his face contorted in agony. Suddenly, he relaxed. “You're right.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, but way too soon. The gun swung around to point at Max and he shot himself squarely between the eyes.

“No!” Sam cried, and you covered your mouth with your hand.

Ms. Miller began to cry looking at her stepson collapsed on the floor. You looked up at Dean and held his gaze before crossing the room to hug him. You felt his body relax for a moment before you pulled away from him. You moved to Ms. Miller.

“I’m so sorry,” you told her. You opened your arms to her and she collapsed into you. You held her while Sam and Dean called the police and paramedics.

You helped Ms. Miller down the stairs to her couch to answer questions for the police, and sat by holding her hand the whole way through. The woman seemed unable to focus her vision as she spoke. “Max attacked me. He threatened me with a gun.”

“And these three?” The officer gestured to you, Sam, and Dean with the end of his pen.

“They're… family friends. I called them as soon as Max arrived, I was scared. They tried to stop him. They fought for the gun.” She looked over at the boys and squeezed your hand.

“Where did Max get the gun?”

Ms. Miller began to cry and looked up at the ceiling. “I don't know. He showed up with it and—” The poor woman began to break down.

“It’s okay, Alice,” you told her, bringing her back into a hug.

“I've lost everyone,” she sobbed into your shoulder, and you smoothed a hand over the back of her hair.

The cop addressed you next. “We'll give you a call if we have any further questions.”

You nodded. You looked to the boys. Sam’s face was set in his puppy-dog stare, and Dean had a look on his face you couldn’t quite read. Dean jerked his head to gesture toward the car before leading Sam out of the home.

You gave Ms. Miller one final hug, and told her to call you if she needed anything. As her tears subsided, she thanked you. You left her alone in her house, and your heart broke for her. As broken as her family had been, she was truly all alone now. That wrecked you completely.

“If I'd just said something else; gotten through to him somehow…” you trailed off once you’d made your way to the car.

“Don’t do that,” Dean told you.

“Do what?”

“Torture yourself. It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone.” You didn’t find comfort in that at all.

“When I think about how he looked at us, man, right before. I shoulda done something,” Sam added.

“Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier,” Dean sassed.

The three of you moved to your respective sides of the Impala.

“Well, I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad,” Sam said.

Dean was astounded. “Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that.”

The younger brother laughed. “It could’ve gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we would've had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him.”

Dean looked back to the Miller’s house. “All things considered.”

You leaned against the car’s door and curled up on your seat. Your mind raced from the scene you’d just left. Ms. Miller reminded you so much of your mom. And now, she was alone. Then there was Max. If only you could’ve said something else. And your brother. You thought of him, too. Maybe he realized that even though your parents were dead, the memories didn’t go away. Maybe that was the reason he took his own life, not the fact that you’d killed your parents. Maybe if you would have spoken to him differently, he would still be here. You wouldn’t be all alone, just like Ms. Miller. Maybe if you’d—

“(Y/N), I’m sorry about your dad,” Sam broke you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.” You didn’t mean to come off rudely, but you knew your tone had been cold. You could see Dean looking at you in the rearview mirror out of the corner of your eye. You chose to ignore him, and kept looking out the window.

You and the boys arrived back at the motel soon after. Night had fallen, and the three of you decided you needed some sleep before hitting the road. Once you’d showered and changed into your pajamas which consisted of an oversized band t-shirt and underwear, you heard a knock on the door.

You opened it to reveal Dean, and surprise overtook you. “What’s up?”

Dean raked his eyes over your body briefly and realized you’d forgotten to put pants on. “Uh, nothing, I just— uh.”

You quirked a brow at him. “You just?”

“Sam told me what you told Max. Thought maybe you’d wanna talk about it.”

“Aw, Dean, how sweet. Are we gonna hug?” you threw a line at him he’d used on you and Sam multiple times.

He rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. “Nevermind,” he muttered and began to walk away.

“Wait,” you said. He turned back to you and you let him into your motel room. You and Dean sat on the floor and leaned against your bed.

“So…” you began.

“So…” he echoed.

“What do you wanna know?” you opted for asking, not sure how to begin this conversation.

“What happened to you?”

You sighed. “My dad was just… way too hard on me. And Bubba, too. He just… if we weren’t doing something right, he’d give ‘physical punishments’ to help us correct our form. He said it was because he wanted to keep us safe. Like, when I was learning to shoot and I would miss, he’d hit my hands with the butt of whatever gun I was shooting with. Hard. He said I’d remember the feeling and it’d fix my aim. And I hate to say it, but he was right. I rarely miss a shot.” You paused, thinking of another example. “When he’d go to hit Stevie, though, I always got in the way. Which he’d then hit me for another reason. He said it was because he needed to teach my brother a lesson and I shouldn’t get in the way of the natural consequence. My brother was always bigger and stronger than me even though he was two years younger. He made us spar all the time. And if he saw either of us holding back, my dad would spar us. And he didn’t hold back at all.” You drew in a shaky breath. “I was always the smallest in the family. He made sure I stayed super thin when I was little so I could always squeeze into tight spaces. I’m pretty sure that had he not, I’d be a lot taller than I am. Maybe could pack on some more muscle, too.”

Dean just stared at you, unsure of what to say.

“And you wanna know the worst part?”

He nodded.

“I don’t even hate him for it. I wish I could. But he’s my dad, y’know? The good times were always really good. I know he cared about me and Bubba. I just… he didn’t know how to show it, is all.”

“(Y/N), I don’t know a damn thing about love, but that sure as hell ain’t it,” Dean responded.

“I don’t know, Dean, I really haven’t seen much better examples anywhere else in my life,” you laughed uncomfortably. “I mean, hunting isn’t exactly a profession you can have relationships in. And hookups just aren’t for me; they make me feel like garbage.”

“I get it,” he answered.

“No, way, dude. You’re king of hookup kingdom,” you sassed.

“I’m serious! I wasn’t always. I’ve always… loved girls, y’know, but I didn’t always know what to do with ‘em. And some of ‘em you can just tell are using you. Even if I’m doing the same thing to them, it doesn’t feel great.”

Your gaze softened. “Then why do you keep doing it to yourself?”

“It’s a great way to blow off some steam. Besides, it’s so fun, why the hell would I stop?”

“Good point,” you shrugged.

The two of you sat in silence for a minute.

“How the hell did we go from talking about my dad hitting me to your sex life?”

He laughed. “I have no idea. But, uh, I’m sorry all that happened to you.”

“Meh, I’ll get over it. Eventually,” you shrugged.

“I know you didn’t tell me the worst parts, though,” he said.

“How?”

“You get this look on your face when you’re talkin’ about something that really upsets you. Like your parents’ death. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen you hurt that bad,” Dean explained. “Anyway, if you ever do wanna talk about it...”

“I know,” you smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You and Dean talked for hours on the floor of your room. His shoes were abandoned somewhere, his button-up had been abandoned, and you were several rounds of Texas Hold-Em deep. You played with bullets instead of poker chips; it was all you had on hand.

You laughed at some stupid joke Dean had made as you called. A ten of hearts, seven of clubs, and nine of clubs laid before you and Dean on the ground.

He hummed. “Raise.”

You flipped up the top card. Ace of spades. ‘Fuck.’ But you wouldn’t let Dean win.

“Bet.”

“Raise.”

You flipped up the last card. Six of hearts. You fought the smile trying to work its way onto your face. “Bet.”

Dean eyed you, and you eyed him right back. You stared at each other intensely until he finally said, “Fold.”

“Yes!” You said triumphantly, falling back to the floor.

“Yeah, whatever, we’re not even playing for real money.”

“You’re just butthurt you got beat, Winchester,” you retorted. “Don’t be a baby.”

He made a face at you. “I’m not.”

“You are totally pouting right now, dude, just admit it.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Fine,” Dean conceded. “It’s just ‘cause I’m tired; that’s the only reason you beat me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure. Then let’s go to a casino together sometime. We could definitely use the cash. And you’re not half-bad.”

He smirked at you. “You’re on.”

You walked him to the door after having decided he needed to go to sleep since he was driving.

“Goodnight, Dee.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You ignored the way his nickname was beginning to make your heart flip.

***

You and Dean had apparently not decided to go to bed early enough, and you both yawned as you packed up the car.

“Dean, I've been thinking,” Sam told his brother.

“Well that's never a good thing,” he yawned in response.

“I'm serious. I been thinking, this demon, whatever it is. Why would it kill Mom, and Jessica, and Max's mother, you know? What does it want?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, you think, maybe, it was after us? After Max and me?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe he was, he was after us for some reason.”

Dean slammed the trunk shut. “Sam. If it had wanted you, it would've just taken you. Okay? This is not your fault, it's not about you.” He headed back into the motel room, and you and Sam followed him.

“Then what is it about?”

“It's about that damn thing that did this to our family. The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that's all.”

“Actually there's uh... there's something else too.”

Dean turned back around. “Ah, jeez. What?”

“When Max left me and her in that closet, with that big cabinet against the door... I moved it.”

“Huh. You got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for,” Dean remarked.

“No man, I moved it. Like, Max.”

“He’s not lying,” you affirmed.

Dean paused for a few moments. “Right.” He picked up a spoon from the nightstand. “Bend this.”

Sam deadpanned, “I can’t just turn it on and off, Dean.”

“Well, how'd you do it?”

“I don't know, I can't control it. I just— I saw you die and it just came out of me, like a, like a punch. You know like… a freak adrenaline thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure it won’t happen again,” Dean replied.

“Yeah, maybe. Aren't you worried, man? Aren't you worried I could turn into Max or something?” Sam was unconvinced.

The older brother shook his head. “Nope. No way. You know why? ‘Cause you got one advantage Max didn't have. Two, actually.”

“Dad? Because Dad's not here, Dean.”

“No. Me.” He smirked. “And her. As long as we’re around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

Sam smiled a little and his puppy dog eyes returned.

Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and began pushing you and Sam out the door. “Now then. I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go.”

“Where?”

“Vegas.”

Sam rolled his eyes and walked out the door to the car.

“What? Come on man. Craps tables. We'd clean up!” Dean tried.

You laughed. “Dean could use your help with Texas Hold ‘Em, too.”

“Can it, (Y/N).”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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tinydefector · 1 day

Text

IRON GIANT

Optimus x human

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: death of an animal.

Saw some of the skybound comics and had to write this because the parallel between optimus and the Iron Giant is too good not to use. So this is based on this comic panel. This may become a series if people enjoy it alot.

Enjoy the Dadimus agender

Also I use Par as a gender neutral term for Parent, but pronounced as Pa.

___________________

Optimus sighed as he finished digging the small grave, optics dimming as he gently picked up the delicate creature and nestled it into the soft earth. He had never wished harm, had faltered in these alien woods, ending a life that had merely sought to flee his unfamiliar form.

Kneeling, he carefully began restoring the soil, patting it smooth as if to apologise with each motion for the accident his bulk had caused. They hadn't suffered small blessings, at least. When at last the mound was shaped, he sat back on powerful haunches, gazing at it pensively. How many graves, both great and small, had he been forced to dig through eons defending his kind - and yet each still marked loss, whether of one or many.

After a moment, massive fingers reached to dig up several wildflowers, arranging them with utmost care atop the fresh earth. A simple marker for one whose brief journey had crossed paths with a warrior never meant for such quiet spaces. But perhaps their essence would nourish new growth,

Venting softly, Optimus sat beside the grave, he felt guilty, it was a chance accident, one which had hurt his spark. The sound of the forest doesn't ease his aching spark even in the bright sunlight. The birds sing and the wind rushes the leaves as if to make a song. Earth was much more lively than Cybertron ever was. Birds flutter around picking at the ground and even landing on his form as if to inspect the metal. Optimus stilled as small avians flitted unafraid about his massive frame, their delicate peeps and chirps surrounding him in a melody utterly alien yet soothing in its liveliness. optics dimming partially as if to seem less a looming threat to these curious creatures.

After a moment, one landed upon an outstretched digit, tilting its feathered head as it studied the bright red and blue plating so unlike any perches it knew. Another joined, then more, exploring seams and transformation seem as if puzzling over this odd visitor to their domain. His spark, heavy with ages of loss, eased slightly at their curiosity. On Cybertron, all life had long fled the ravages of war - these woods teemed with it at every turn, in every trill and rustle. Their sounds wove a music this weary warrior had never known, helping him glimpse what peace might one orn bless his ancient world again.

A faint, sad smile touched Optimus 's stoic face as small wings took flight once more. Perhaps in these forests, he might find solace for his burdened spark and among these trees, he began to comprehend Earth's beauty and fragility anew.

noise in the distance spooks the birds. But Optimus doesn't move from The grave of the Doe, the noises become louder, it's small laughter echoing just off in the trees. "Baby please don't run off!" A voice calls out. Optimus froze as small steps neared the clearing, optics widening fractionally at the curious sight of tiny organics emerging where wildlife had fled moments before.

A little child walks out into the field where Optimus sits. "Look, look Robot!" The small child calls out to their parent. Their parent is quick to grab them, hauling them up into their arms as they stare at Optimus. The child with excitement and wonder and the parent with fear. Both the older human and Optimus have a stare off neither willing to move less they spook the other. He realised, judging by similarities of form and mannerism in how they clung and shielded one another, that the larger one was the smaller creator.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered a hand beside him upon the grass, Emitting a low, soothing rumble, cogs and gears slowly creaking as he ventilated slowly, His thoughts reached to memories of younglings in Iacon.

The younger one smiles widely and waves "hiya Robot!" They call out which makes their parent stiffen in worry. "Baby shh" they try to move backwards slowly only for their child to call out again. " But Par, robot!, like Iron Giant! From the movie, big robot! " Their child state excited. It makes Optimus chuckle lightly. "Hiya Iron Giant!" The child calls out without fear. Wrangling themself out of their parents arms. "Baby stop" they state to their child.

Optimus himself is still quiet as he watches the child walk up to him fearlessly

Optimus could not help but vent a soft laugh at the comparison from the sparkling, a gentle puff of air that set grass and leaves dancing around them. The naive curiosity and wonder from their tiny frame spoke of no fear.

Slowly, carefully he extended a digit for the young one to grasp, wishing to show only gentleness as small hands patted over plating smooth and cool rather than textured flesh. His field pulsed calming waves as he met their bold gaze, watching tiny mouth spread in a fearless grin. At last, he rumbled in the softest volume, "hello little one."

Optics flicked respectfully to the elder, The older human watches in worry as they freeze on the spot watching their child. The little human looks up at Optimus as they hold up their plushy. "This is Mimi! My stuffy, par made her for me, they make me a lot of things. Oh you talk too! I really like your red and blue is really pretty! Do you like rocks? I like rocks" They state as they start talking away to Optimus without a care in the world. Their parent slowly move to the ground, eyes darting and watching the large bot.

Optimus listened intently, optics softened in pleasure at the youngling's chatter and display of their favoured toy.

"Mimi is most charming indeed," he rumbled gently in response, spark warming though his frame showed no smile. Lifting his optics once more, he dipped his head respectfully to the elder still keeping close watch.

"You have raised a marvellous spark," he said softly to them, processors mindful of putting alien species at ease through tone, hoping honesty and calm might quell reasonable fear. "I mean your offspring no harm I swear it on my spark." he focused once more on the babbling child, granting gentle puffs of air in response to questions too swift for speech.

The older human's eyes linger on their child before flickering to bright blue optics of the large bot. " They give me a scare often when they wander off." They state as they sit and watch the large bot gently interact with their child. "What... what are you?" They asked, they know that if it wanted to hurt them it would have done so by now but they are still cautious of the large robot. "Par He's a robot, silly!" The little human calls out with giggles.

"Indeed I am a robot," rumbled Optimus gently with a faint vibration of amusement. His optics crinkled slightly at the young one's matter-of-fact pronouncement. Turning back to their elder, his field radiated openness and trust as he answered their question with utmost care. "My name is Optimus. I was created on the planet Cybertron.” Plating shifted in a subconscious shrug. "My only wish is peaceful coexistence. I mean you and yours no harm."

The little human giggles and spins around. "Told you Par! Space Robot!" They state proudly.

optics softened as he regarded them both. "I am glad this young one remains unafraid to explore life's wonders." His tone held enduring patience. Their parent's eyes linger on the disturbed ground which had a patch of flowered grass on it. "What happened?" They ask cautiously. Optimus followed their gaze and intake a soft vent, optics dimming slightly at the memory. "Earlier I came upon this clearing, and in my haste took an innocent life by accident. A young forest dweller, unaware of my heaviness, that fled at my approach."

Placing a gentle digit beside the flowers, he said evenly, "As all life is sacred, I took care in giving it rest, and sought to memorialise its short journey through this place.” Turning optics pained with regret, he met their gaze steadily and continued in a low rumble.

The older ones' eyes soften lightly. They stand up and move closer. " Baby, do you mind playing over there for a second par needs to look at something," they call to their child who nods and skips off a little. The older human looks over the grave to Make sure it was deep enough to hide the deer.

They look up at Optimus. They stand just a few steps away from him watching his expressions. "You really are like the Iron Giant, I'm sorry, it's never easy hurting an animal, it didn't suffer?" They ask softly. Optimus blinked slowly at the question, then dipped his head in gentle affirmation and thanks for understanding shown. he rumbled softly in response. "And no, the creature did not suffer - its journey was swift. Still I regret hastiness that cut a natural span abruptly short. But I accept also my strengths and flaws, as all beings must."

They sit down beside the large bot as their eyes watch their child play in the flowers with the butterflies. "Par, Look look Butterflies!" The little one shouts in excitement as one lands on their nose. "I'm sorry you stepped on the deer, it's horrible when you accidentally kill an animal. Thank you for burying it, it may not mean much but thank you, I don't think I would have been able to handle it if they had seen the deer like that" they state softly.

Optimus 's optics softened as he watched the youngling's innocent delight, spark warming within his frame. He pulsed a gentle field of gratitude to their elder beside him.

"You need not apologise," he rumbled gently. "All beings strive as best they can, and errors do not diminish intent." Turning down to meet their gaze, he continued solemnly, "I am glad sparing them that sight has helped ease another incident, however slightly. Protecting innocence is important."

A faint smile warmed his stoic face as small pedes danced among blooms. "They are a joyful little spark." His field swirled sincerity. They slowly look up at him. "Are you alright?" They ask, it was the first time in a very long time that he had been asked how he felt. It makes him realise that he wasn't alright.

He hadn't been alright for a long time. It felt strange for such a small creature to be asking him that. Optimus blinked, caught off guard by the simple question and sincere concern shining in organic eyes gazing at him. When was the last time anyone had inquired after his wellbeing? Long forgotten were those orn...

He shifted slightly, optics dimming as memory files flooded his processor - friends fallen, a world dissolved to cinders while he could only watch. His people scattered to the stars if lucky; slain without mercy if not. For so long his every function had been duty - to lead, guard, rebuild against impossible odds. But what remained of Optimus beneath it all?

Slowly releasing a long vent, he admitted softly, "No, not truly. The burdens of many vorns sit heavy. But watching life thrive here gives solace," he gestured to the playing sparkling with a faint flicker of affection. His gaze met theirs openly. His field pulsed gratitude too deep for mere words. In such simple moments, perhaps broken things long shattered might slowly, carefully be glued back together.

_________

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers skybound #skybound comic #transformers optimus #transformers optimus prime #optimus #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus #optimus prime #Optimus prime skybound #mtmte transformers #mtmte #tf mtmte #transformers mtmte

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wearebarca · 3 days

Text

Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 6,8k

18+ (eventually)

A/N: Feedback is always nice to hear. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

The jolt of the plane hitting the ground woke the captain up from her peaceful slumber. As she tried to move to put away her stuff, a weight on the shoulder prevented the blond from moving. She quickly realized that the photographer was still leaning her head on her shoulder and during her sleep, she had grabbed the captain’s arm and was currently clinging to it. The sight warmed the athlete’s heart who really didn’t want to disturb the brunette. She took a moment to admire the smaller woman’s features. She looked so peaceful sleeping, with her lips slightly parted and a few strands of hair caressing her cheeks. From this close, Alexia could see the freckles that littered her sun kissed skin and she decided that if she could, she would spend hours mapping the French-Canadian’s face counting each and everyone of them.

The brunette stirred in her sleep. Not ready to get up just yet, she buried herself further in the crook of the blond’s neck, not quite conscious enough to realize who she was currently using as a pillow. Meanwhile, Lucy was making her way towards the two women. The sight she was met with made her stop in her tracks. She never thought she would see the day Rosalie would fall asleep on a plane, nor would she see Alexia let someone sleep on her shoulder. The captain had the habit of asking management to have a seat by herself, wanting to stay focused and watch previous games to study closely their opponent. She pulled out her phone to snap a picture of the two and made her way to them.

“ Hola capitana,” Lucy whispered, not wanting to wake up the sleeping photographer just yet. Alexia’s gaze left Rosalie’s face to find Lucy, whom she sent a sharp warning look which took the English woman by surprise. “ I know, don’t worry, she ran a half marathon just this morning, she really wanted to knock herself out for this flight. She deserves the rest.” She said smiling, glad that her captain was taking care of the woman she considered a sister.

“ Really? I understand why she is sleeping so hard right now.”

“ Yeah, I just wanted to tell you that management wants her to be the first out, so she can take pictures of us getting out of the plane. I ‘ll take her stuff on my way out but do you think you could wake her up in about 10 minutes?” Alexia nodded at the older woman who turned around to get back to her seat.

“ Hola Bella durmiente, Es hora de despertar.” Alexia softly whispered to the photographer who groaned.

“ Non pas maintenant je suis bien, plus tard s’il te plait.”

“ Rosalia, we are here,” The blond said, pushing away strands of hair that were obscuring the brunette’s face. Rosalie stirred awake and slowly lifted her head from the blond’s shoulder. As soon as her eyes met the bright hazel ones, fhe brunette realized exactly where she had just spent the last hour and a half sound asleep. Embarrassment flooded the photographer who became red and had a hard time looking at the captain in her eyes.

“ I am so sorry Alexia I didn’t want to keep you from working.” The blind smiled at her with a warm expression. She leaned in slightly so the brunette could hear. “ I’m glad I could relax a little, I really didn’t want to answer those emails.”

Alexia’s confession put a small smile on her lips. “ I guess they want me to get out first for pictures?”

“ Si, I think they are ready for you now.” The blonde could see at the end of the alley the rest of the social media team getting ready to step out on the tarmac. “ You can leave the rest of your stuff here, I think Lucy said she would pick it up with hers.”

The brunette got up and hoisted her camera bag on her shoulder. She turned around and caught, once again, Alexia’s gaze. The footballer looked the most relaxed she had ever seen her, almost lost in her Nike club hoodie with her hair loose and fanning over her shoulders. Her favourite white cap finishing the look. Her eyes did not carry the wariness they usually did, only a glimpse of something the brunette could not put her finger on but unknowingly, was mirrored in her own eyes.

Walking in the alley the photographer felt eyes in the back of her head. She turned around to see Lucy and Keira with shit eating grins and wiggling eyebrows. Rosalie knew that she would get an earful as soon as she would be alone with the two. The same could be said with Alexia as the couple seated in front of her kept sending glances her way. They knew better than to attack the blond with questions right away, allowing her to process the events first.

Walking out of the aircraft, Rosalie felt all the tension leave her body as she took a deep breath. She settled her stuff a good fifty feet away from the bottom of the stairs. Next to her Martina was getting ready to make her instagram stories. “ Chica, would you mind if I took a quick story of you taking pictures? You haven’t been introduced to the Culers socials yet!”

“ Do I have to say something?” The photographer felt a lot more comfortable behind the camera than in front.

“No, no you don’t have to, just wave or something, I’ll do the talking!”

“ Ok just tell me when to and I’ll wave.” Meanwhile the first of the coaching staff made their way out of the airplane. She snapped a few shots of Jonatan, along with a few of the club physios. She caught one of Sara waving at her with a bright smile. After the coaches, it was finally time for the players, most of them waved or did silly faces at her camera. As the players made their way past her they patted her shoulders or ruffled her hair. The photographer’s easy going and bubbly personality had allowed her to get close fast with the rest of the team.

As she was busy taking pictures and interacting with the team, Martina took the time to film bits of her interactions, thinking that the fans would love to see the new photographer in her element.

The next to get out were Keira, who only had a small backpack hanging from her shoulder. Lucy was slowly trailer behind her, clearly struggling because of the amount of bags she was carrying. The photographer found the sight quite comical and moved on to the next couple behind them.Ingrid looked almost regal, strolling down the steps with Mapi by her side. The Spaniard was carrying their backpad and making little poses in pure Mapi fashion. The steady flow of players kept coming down the stairs of the plane and the photographer got in her zone, moving around to get different angles.

When Alexia passed the door, the first thing she saw was the Canadian crouched down on the tarmac, smiling as she snapped pictures of Fridolina and Aitana. When the photographer finally realized who was descending the stairs, she lowered her camera so she could simply admire the captain. The sun was hitting Alexia's face perfectly, making her skin glow and her face scrunched up due to the brightness and the sight was simply too cute for her not to take a picture. The Catalonian went down the stairs and went straight for the photographer who lowered her camera not wanting to make the captain uncomfortable.

“ You still have my hoodie imprinted on your cheek, chica” She said, brushing a few strands of hair away from Rosalie’s face.

“You should check if I didn’t leave a drool stain on it as well.” The comment came out of the green-eyed photographer who didn’t take the time to think before saying it. Her face went red from embarrassment but quickly calmed down as she heard Alexia’s infectious laugh. Unknowingly to them both, Martina had her phone recording the whole ordeal. The captain had never really been more than courteous towards any of the members of the media team, which is why the head of social media valued this short video and found that this would be all the introduction the photographer would need. If the cold, calculating captain liked the Canadian photographer, anyone would.

It was around mid-day that the team finally arrived at the training grounds. The coaching staff had scheduled a small training session just so the girls could move around a little and stay sharp for the game the next day. The photographer was on the sideline, camera ready, and was instructed to follow closely the five captains. There was an air of seriousness on the pitch as everyone was working on the drills which were led by the Rosalie’s target for the day. Even if she liked studio work and social media related stuff, action shots were the best part of her job. At the end of the training session, Rosalie was almost as sweaty as the rest of the team. She was extremely satisfied with her work and while the team was getting ready to leave the center, the brunette sat in the bus to start editing the pictures that were gonna go in today’s post. As she was working away at her computer, her phone started buzzing. It got so intense that the woman had to pick it up and see what was causing the commotion.

The Canadian’s instagram was currently blowing up. In less than an hour she had gained hundreds of followers. It all seemed to come from a story with her account mentioned. When she clicked, she was met with a short video of her and several footballers interacting with her. The post was captioned “ Everyone loves our new photographer. The last video was a little longer, and was of her andAlexia, outside of the plane while the blond was brushing away her hair. The photographer was taken aback by Martina’s choice to post a moment that could so easily be missinterpreted by fans. The green-eyed woman’s worries were quickly overshadowed by a text coming from the head of socials herself, wondering if the pictures were ready to be sent.

She selected the ones she loved the most and made two separate files. One for the airport and arrival pictures and one for the training session. Someone pulling at the wire of her headphones pulled the girl's attention away from her screen to the person that had just sat by her side.

“ Hola, do you have a lot of work for tonight?” Sara asked as she pulled out a notebook from her small backpack.

“ Kinda, I wanna finish editing some of the pictures from last week’s shoot and work a bit on the fan project.” She said, eyes going back to her screen but not putting her headphones back just yet.

“ Good, because I was wondering if it would be a problem if I wanted to work on the girls strength program tonight. We could order room service together too if you want.”

“ Sounds like a plan to me.” The brunette slid her headphones back in while the players were slowly boarding the bus. Alexia, Ingrid, Mapi, Patri and Pina all took the last seats of the bus. Pina and Patri almost simultaneously pulled out their phones and both headed to Instagram to see the latest Barça post. Soon enough, both of the young women started to gush about their own photographs, shouting to the photographer their praise from across the crowded bus. The Canadian smiled at the two younger women and sent a thumbs up their way.

“ Capi, this is a very cute picture of you, Rosie almost makes you look approachable,” Patri said in a teasing tone.

“Oh no we don’t want that do we,” Pina added in the same tone which earned the duo a glare from the older woman. Meanwhile, the couple seated to their right was looking at the recent stories. Both of their expressions changed at the same time, as they stared at one short video in particular. They both shared a knowing look and mutually decided to not bring any attention to the post. From the very beginning they both could see a spark going on whenever the Canadian and the Catalonian would interact and this video was proof that it wasn’t simply in their head.

Alexia, on the other hand, had not pulled out her phone, preferring to close her eyes and visualize tomorrow’s match. She knew Sevilla FC’s patterns, strengths and weaknesses like the back of her hand and kept trying different plans of attack for tomorrow. The fact that she had a room by herself would allow her to spend her night going over minor details and reviewing some of their old games against them. The drive was short and everyone was glad they would finally get some time to relax. Rosalie thought she could cry at the sight of the queen sized bed. She quickly dropped her bags at the foot of the bed and flopped right on it.

“ You look completely dead, hermana”

“ Oui, and it’s partly your fault.” She said, face still buried in the soft bed.

“ I’m gonna shower really quick and we order after?”

“ Do you know what you want? I can call while you shower.”

“ Sure, can you order me the Patatas Bravas please?” The photographer sent a thumbs up her way as the coach disappeared in the bathroom. Rolling on her side to grab her phone felt like a tremendous effort. She ordered in a broken Spanish that would’ve made any of the girls cringe and finally got back up to set up a little workstation on her bed. They both spent the evening working on their respective projects, occasionally taking breaks to chat. Rosalie really enjoyed the coach's calm and easy presence.

Around ten thirty Rosalie and Sara decided to call it a night and head to bed. Tomorrow will be a big day for both of them. The room was pitch black and all that could be heard were the soft snores of the coach. Rosalie was laying on her back, wide awake despite the exhaustion she was feeling. She knew that sleep would not come easy for her because the stress of the game along with the remaining restlessness from the plane trip were still coursing through her veins. She pulled her phone and decided to go see how the posts were doing. Amongst the numerous new follower notifications, one in particular caught her eye. Alexia had followed her, along with reposting the pictures from their arrival. Scrolling down the comments of the post, she could see the comments being mostly fans gushing about the players, but scattered among the flow of compliments were a few who came from the instagram story. Most of them were about how the photographer looked like she was part of the family, and the rest was about a certain interaction with the Spanish captain. Seeing there wasn’t anything negative, she closed her phone and tried to get some sleep.

The atmosphere was electric in the stadium. Spanish football really has nothing to do with football in the states or even English football. The crowds were so loud she could feel the rumbling of hundred voices screaming in her bones. Armed with her trusty Canon and the horrible bright yellow “press” jersey, the photographer had spent the better part of the first half running along the side lines trying to capture the impressive plays the team was creating.

The game started exactly how Alexia had visualized it. The entire team was completely in sync with each other. For the first 40 minutes, Barcelona was leading 1-0, thanks to Graham. But sometimes one thing can disturb even the most well oiled machine. At the 55 minute mark, Mapi went down after receiving a vicious elbow right to the face. The photographer was following the defender with her camera and caught the whole ordeal. Mapi stood back up fast enough but the gash on her face kept bleeding which meant she had to leave the game.

It was like someone had taken a gear out of the machine and suddenly, passes weren’t meeting their target and the team’s focus was lost.

They were toe to toe at the end of the game, with only two minutes to play, and everyone could feel the tension in the air. Finding a weakness through their opponents defence seemed impossible for the girls. Alexia felt as if she could not move a single muscle without being shadowed by one of Sevilla’s defenders. She kept being shoved and tripped by her opponent who was clearly trying to get in the woman’s head. The seconds were ticking down and the captain was getting more and more frustrated, which was clear on the blond's face. A particularly rough foul inside the box was committed on the captain who stayed on the ground.

Rosalie’s heart sank at the sight, her camera long forgotten as she ran on the sideline to stand right in front of the small huddle that had gathered around the blond. The whistle was heard and a penalty shotwas given to Barcelona. Everyone was waiting to see if the footballer would manage to get up on her own, which she did moments later, but not without making a face of discomfort. Alexia turned towards the bench, signalling that she was ok to stay on, as if it had been drawn by a magnet, her eyes found worried green one. She smiled reassuringly at the brunette who managed to take a picture just before the blonde turned back towards her teammates.

Alexia’s demeanor completely changed as she stepped towards the ref to take the ball. Her face was void of any emotion, her eyes never leaving the goal. Rosalie was mesmerized by the sight in front of her. It was no secret that Alexia was an incredibly beautiful woman, but on the pitch, proudly wearing Barcelona's white away kit, standing tall and confident, she looked out of this world. The photographer took the time to capture the captain’s focused expression.

The photographer watched through the lens of her camera the ball soaring through the air and coming to a stop at the back of the net. The next shots she took would be her favourite pictures she had taken so far. The smile that stretched the blond’s face was so bright and beautiful, the photographer took a second to admire it before focusing on her job again. The first one to jump in Alexia’s arms was Jana who wrapped her arms and legs around the blond. Soon enough the rest of the team was around her but there was only one set of beautiful forest green eyes she wanted to see.

The brunette was smiling ear to ear and jumping around with Martina on the side lines. She turned around to meet the shining hazel one. It was as if she could feel the blond’s happiness and delight. For a second, it was as if they were the only ones in the stadium. Alexia was forced to break the small trance she was in when she was dragged away by the rest of the team.

Watching the captain celebrating today’s win, Rosalie realized that whatever feelings she currently had for the Catalonian woman were growing at an alarming rate.

The locker rooms were filled with laughter and music as the team was getting ready to get back to the hotel. Alexia was the last one to enter the room, having stayed on the pitch for a few quick interviews. She quickly went to see Mapi, who was sitting with her girlfriend in the corner. The tattooed woman had large bandages wrapped around her head but overall looked just as excited as the rest of the team.

“ How are you feeling?”

“ I am good, no concussion.”

“ Good, we don't need you to be more stupid now do we?” She said, smiling down at her friend.

“ Imagínate si me volviera tan estúpido como tú.” Ingrid could not hold the laugh that bubbled in her throat.

“ oh well she's definitely ok.”

Back in the bus, most of the girls were discussing how their day in Seville would be spent. Alexia was sitting next to Pina, and was loudly arguing with Patri on what movie to watch. Alecia could feel her body relax after the game. She pulled out her headphones, closed her eyes and pressed play on the album that had the song Rosalie showed her the day before.

“A day off in a new city does not mean a break in training” This was the sentence Sara had sent Rosalie’s way as they made their way down in the lobby, both dressed in running gear and ready to start their day. I was still very early in the morning and none of the girls were up yet. In fact, the lobby was completely empty besides the receptionist who was looking at the two women like they had grown an extra head.

Rosalie only groaned at the coach as she tied her shoelaces. They didn’t plan on a big run this morning, but the coach wanted to see the Canadian’s ability to hold a certain speed on a relatively short distance.

She was pleasantly surprised to see that Rosalie was capable of holding an average pace of 3 minutes 59 seconds per kilometre during their 10km run.

“And you’re telling me that you played football in College? Why didn’t you get on the track team?” As they stepped through the hotel doors, less than 45 minutes after leaving.

“ Running only became fun for me after college,” she said with a smile and an expression that told Sara that this might be a sensitive subject for the brunette.

At the same time, Alexia, Irene and Sandra were making their way down the stairs leading to the lobby, all dressed in the team sweat suits.

“ I think I’d like to go visit Plaza de Espana.” Irene said, pulling up some pictures on her phone to show the two other women.

“ I think I heard Ingrid and Rosie talk about going there too, we could tag along,” Panos said, turning towards Alexia. “ Do you have plans or are you coming with us?”

“ I don’t know honestly, maybe I’ll just go walk around a little,” She said, walking towards the breakfast room.

“ Oh wait, she’s right here we can ask her,” Sandra said , waving at the photographer. Alexia turned around and froze in the spot. The photographer was standing in the lobby chatting with Sara, a water bottle in hand. She clearly had just gotten back from her run and Alexia was not ready to witness such a sight so early in the morning. Alexia knew that the photographer was quite the athlete, she had seen the pictures Patri had dug out of the Canadian’s profile, but seeing her in person was a different story. The photographer was standing in the hall, in nothing but red running shorts and a black Nike sports bra. Her hair was up in a messy bun with strands of hair falling out and sticking to her neck and forehead Her skin was still glowing with a light sheen of sweat, which made every ripple of muscle much more noticeable. She had the perfect runner shape, slender muscular legs with defined abs covered in beads of sweat.

Alexia's mouth went dry as she watched her friends walk towards the duo. “Hola chicas how was the workout?” Paños said, coming to a stop in front of the photographer.

“ Dios mio, this one can run,” Sara said, still trying to regulate her breathing.

“ She puts me through the ringer, mon dieu. I don't want to see what her strength training looks like.” Rosalie said, smiling and shifting side to side.

“Believe me, you don’t,” Irene added, “Hey so we were wondering if you guys were still planning to go sightseeing today.”

“ Oui! This city looks gorgeous and Sara promised to show me around since she’s from around here.”

“ Great! Would you mind if Irene, Alexia and I tagged along with you guys.” Sandra asked, pointing to the women by her side. Alexia was still a few feet behind the group, but when the captain heard her name, she took a breath and moved forward to join the small group.

“ hola” Rosalie thought that the captain looked adorable in her baggy sweat suit, hood up and her blond hair peeking up from the hood. She looked cosy and still half asleep.

“ Hola Rosalia” The blond found it hard to keep her eyes from wandering down, so she turned towards the rest of the group. “ I am going to get breakfast now, I will see you later chicas”

“ And I need a shower.” The brunette said, motioning to her sweaty state.

“ I’ll bring you a coffee and some food while you shower,” Sara said, heading in the same direction as the Spanish captain.

“ Perfect, so should we meet in the lobby around 10?” Irene asked.

“ Sounds perfect to me, I’ll text Mapi and Ingrid to tell them as well.”

“ Ok! See you later!”

Rosalie had traded her sports clothes for a beige tennis skirt and a white cropped tank top along with a pair of adidas sneakers. A light sweater was tied around her shoulders and her favorite pair of sunglasses were resting at the top of her hair. Sara was waiting for her at the door of their shared hotel room in a pair of linen shorts and a simple white t-shirt.

“ Ready to go?”

“ Oui, oui, I just need to get my camera bag and then we’re good to go!”

“ You never go anywhere without it do you?” Sara said, smiling at the brunette who was running around looking for the specific camera she wanted to bring.

“ I rarely leave the house without one I’m afraid.” She answered. She found the smaller camera she had brought for this day, put it in the little travel bag and headed out with Sara to the lobby.

Downstairs, Ingrid, Irene and Alexia were sitting in the lounge area chatting and waiting for the rest of the group to arrive.

“ Hola! Are you guys excited?” Ingrid asked as she saw the two women approaching.

“ Yes! I’ve never been in this city but I’ve read about the amazing architecture and the different historical sites.” The Canadian said excitedly. Behind her she could hear Sandra and Irene chatting as they made their way towards the group. “ Is Mapi coming?” The brunette asked, noticing her absence.

“ Yeah she is, she’s just trying to find a good outfit and gets lost in her stuff. Nothing new.” Ingrid answered with an eye roll.

“ She’s not rooming with you so you can’t choose for her and it drives her crazy right?” Alexia said while laughing.

“ Exactly, she sent me three options and I didn’t answer so she’s probably losing her mind at the moment.” The whole group laughed at the comment and turned around at the sound of hurried footsteps coming their way. The tattooed woman was running towards them, wearing a white sleeveless vest, jean shorts and a dark green cap. “ This was not in any of the options you sent me elskling.”

Mapi’s face fell a little at the comment, thinking that her girlfriend didn’t approve of her outfit. “ But I thought it looked nice.” She said with a sad puppy face.

“ You look great Mapi, she's just teasing.” The photographer said smiling at the defender, who’s smile came back at her words.

“ So are we ready to go?” Sandra asked.

“Si, we can walk to the plaza and go from there.” The group walked out of the hotel. Ingrid and Rosalie were walking at the front, chatting about the various sites they would get to see and the pictures that they could take. Sara and Mapi were behind them, talking about training while the three others were silently following.

“ She’s really nice, Rosalie I mean, and she gets along with the team well.” Sandra said, observing the French-Canadian who was looking around her, smiling ear to ear.

“ I don’t remember any of us getting this close to any of the photographers before.” Irene added.

“ They never made the effort to make us feel at ease with them.” Alexia said, making a face at the memories of awful shootings she’s had to endure in the past.

“ She goes that extra mile to make us feel at ease and comfortable, I really like her.” Sandra said, eyes glued to the brunette. Something in the way that the goalkeeper was looking at the photographer made Alexia send her a look that held a question.

“ What?”

“ Nothing.”

“ Is Alexia jealous?” Irene said, lightly shoving the younger woman.

“I’m not,”She said, her eyes drifting to the photographer who had stopped to take a picture of a particularly beautiful bed of flowers.

“ She’s beautiful too,” Sandra added, smiling cheekily at the midfielder.

“ mhmm”

“ Ale,” Irene said in a much more serious tone. “ It’s ok to let things happen sometimes, you don’t need to control everything all the time.” She said looking at the blonde in the eyes. “ You can let yourself be happy.”

In all the years she had spent working with Alexia, Irene knew that the blond lived for football. She was so focused on her career, her team, it was her whole life. Getting the captain to loosen up a little, to relax and actually take care of herself was extremely hard. She deserved to be happy outside of football. Irene could see that the blonde was closing herself off so she decided to drop the subject and engage in a light conversation with the goalkeeper, who had walked a few feet ahead to let her friend talk with their captain more privately.

Alexia knew that Irene was right. She knew that it was more than time for her to start thinking about her life outside of football and actually think about herself, but she simply wasn’t used to it. Her life was hectic. The training, the games, the interviews, the press, the lack of privacy, it was too much to deal with. She was scared, scared of the fans revealing her private life, scared of what they would think if she was to focus on something else than the team, but as she gazes at the photographer, who was currently mesmerized by the beauty of Plaza de Espana, she found it quite hard to control the butterflies fluttering inside her.

“ Don’t you get tired of taking pictures?” The Norwegian asked as she walked towards the brunette to see the shot she had taken of her in front of the impressive building.

“ Never, I love capturing beauty,” She said with a bright smile.

“ Hey, don't steal my girlfriend hermana!” Mapi yelled as she ran towards the two friends.

“ Too late, mon amie, she wants me as her personal photographer now.” She answered laughing. “ You guys should pose together, I’ll send you all the pictures tonight!” The afternoon was spent walking around in the city. Sara, Irene and Sandra had left the small group of friends to go try out a restaurant Sara had mentioned while the rest decided to keep exploring a little. They ended up in a small street filled with little boutiques and cafes. Rosalie pulled out her camera and snapped a picture of the couple walking ahead of them.

Alexia, who was silently walking beside her, pulled out her phone and decided to capture the photographer in her element. She looked focused, her nose scrunched up with one of her eyes closed and her tongue slightly sticking out. She was kneeling down in the middle of the small pedestrian street and looked like a professional, even on her day off. Her picture probably wasn’t as good as the ones the brunette was currently taking, but she was quite proud of how it turned out. Too focused on the picture she had just taken, the midfielder had failed to notice the brunette coming over and looking at her phone.

“Not bad, even if your subject is not the best.” She said in a soft voice,as to not frighten the blonde.

“Not used to being on the other side of the lens?”

“ You could say that,” she said with a shy smile, “ This one isn’t so bad.” She added, taking a good look at it.

“I think it’s beautiful” Alexia said, catching Rosalie’s gaze with her own. They stayed like that, simply looking at each other, until a man walked past and shoved the smaller woman who ended up in Alexia’s arms.

“ Oh mon dieu, I’m so sorry are you ok?”

“ You’re the one who got shoved and you’re apologizing to me?” She said laughing.

“ I’m Canadian, I can’t help it.” She said, letting the captain go to look around for their two friends.

“ I think they left without us,” the Spanish woman said.

“ Looks like it.” They stayed silent for a while, observing the street.

“ Are you hungry?”

“Si, you too?”

“ Oui, wanna grab a bite?”

“ Lead the way, Rosalia. ”

They settled on a very small restaurant on a street corner, in front of a small park. They sat on a table outside in the corner of the patio where they could enjoy their meal away from prying eyes.

Alexia was nervous. This would be the first time she would spend time alone with the brunette outside of work settings and she didn’t know if she would be able to keep the conversation flowing without seeming too nervous or awkward. Meanwhile the French-Canadian was in a similar state, stressed about dining with the captain of the best football team in the league.

Surprisingly, once they had started talking, the conversation kept flowing. It started out with something as mundane as their favourite city they had visited, to what country they wished to see the most, to where they dreamed to play.

“That is easy, I’ve always wanted to play for Barça, I knew that this would be my home.” The blonde said before taking a bite of her salade. “What about you? Which club did you dream of playing for?”

“Oh, I was never good enough to go pro.” The brunette said, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“I doubt that. From what I have heard, you were quite the defender.” Alexia said pointing to the French-Canadian with her fork. “Lucy told me that you would give her a run for her money.”

Rosalie laughed at the comment. “Lucy’s full of shit.”

“ I guess I’ll have to see for myself one day, you can try to block me from scoring, and if I do, I can ask you anything I want.” The captain with confidence.

“Anything hm? Sounds interesting, but what if I win, what do I get?”

“You can ask me for anything.” The photographer took a second to think before extending her hand for the captain to shake. When their hands met, Rosalie felt a spark run along her skin, giving her goosebumps. Her eyes met with hazel ones who seemed surprised, seemingly having felt the same thing as her. The blonde quickly brushed it off and moved on.

“ Seriously, there must be a club that you dreamt of playing for.” Alexia said, leaning towards Rosalie, keeping eye contact.

“ Don’t laugh at me, but Barcelona has always been my favourite club.” The photographer said, slightly embarrassed. “ It’s weird, but when I got the offer to come work for the team, it made me feel like, in a way, I was realizing my dream, just not as a player.”

“ You are part of this team Rosalia, player or not.” Alexia said, feeling bold and taking the photographer’s hand across the table. The smile that appeared on the Canadian’s face was so contagious that the blonde could not hold back her own.

“Don’t you miss England sometimes?”

“ I don’t, England is home to a lot of memories, a lot of good ones, but most of them are tainted.” The woman said with a sad smile. “ I miss the girls though.”

“You were close with the girls from the team?” Alexia asked, curious to know more about the woman’s time with Arsenal.

“Yeah, especially with Leah, Beth, Viv and lia. We still regularly talk. I think they’re planning to come see one of the games soon.”

“ I am sorry if my question is too personal, but why did you leave Arsenal?” Rosalie took a deep breath and took a moment to gaze at their still intertwined hands.

“ You don’t have to tell me, I am sorry I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Alexia said, squeezing the photographer’s hand.

“ No, non it’s ok.” She said, smiling at the blonde. “When I arrived at Arsenal, I got very close quickly to a player.” She said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“ I was completely new to the English scene and quite naive. We started dating shortly after the start of the season. She kept me a secret, saying that she didn’t want her private life out in the media and I respect that. It stayed like that for a year and a half, and then I found out exactly why she wanted it to be a secret.” Rosalie said with a bitter expression.

“ she was still with her ex girlfriend, while also seeing other women.” At the revelation, Alexia could feel her anger rising, her expire hardened as she kept listening to the smaller woman.

“ I kept seeing her everywhere after that, she was part of the team I worked for and friends with all of my friends. It became too hard to stay there. I didn’t want to go out anymore, spending time with my friends became difficult because I could see the looks of pity they would send my way.” Explained the brunette.

“ I started to loathe coming into work, I couldn’t even joy in my passion anymore. Moving away was a necessity. I travelled a little first, then you guy’s offer came in and it was like a dream come true.” She said looking at the captain straight in the eyes with a warm smile.

“She didn’t deserve you, Rosalia. We’re happy you’re here.” The compliment made the Canadian blush furiously.

“ Who was it? So I can end their career during the Champions league?”

“ What are you going to do? Commit a dirty foul on her?” The brunette asked, shaking her head. “Good luck, she is the queen in that area.” That information alone was enough for Alexia to guess who had broken the photographer’s heart so badly.

“McCabe doesn’t scare me, Bonita” The photographer’s breath hitched at the nickname.

“ I guess you didn’t need much to guess who it is.”

“ She’s got quite the reputation.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I don’t want to bore you with my relationship drama.”

“You have to stop apologizing Rosa, I asked the question, I wanna know more about you, the good and the bad.” Rosalie relaxed a little. The blonde looked genuinely curious and it was so easy to talk to her. The rest of the night was spent walking around in the streets of the city, with Rosalie taking pictures of everything that piqued her interest, while Alexia was following, taking pictures of, mostly, Rosalie.

They got back to the hotel later than Alexia would have thought. The sun was long gone and the night air was crisp. Both of their rooms were on the same floor so Alexia decided to walk the brunette to her door. They both could feel the tension rising as they approached Rosalie’s room. Both women were tired but didn’t want this night to end. Alexia was the first one to reach the door and took off the camera bag she had offered to carry for the smaller brunette.

“ Thank you so much for this wonderful night, Ale.”

“ The pleasure was all mine Rosa, I had a great time.” She looked at the smaller woman blushing and shifting side to side and felt a rise of courage, which allowed her to pull Rosalie in a warm hug.

The photographer instantly melted at the contact, wrapping her arms around the taller woman’s shoulders. The footballer couldn’t help but think about how the photographer fit perfectly in her arms and how her smell was clouding her mind. They stayed like this longer than a simple friendly hug should be, but still, the brunette was disappointed when Alexia slowly let go. The blonde took a step back before speaking, her voice just above a whisper.

“Bonne nuit, Rosalia”

“Buenas noches, Ale”

A/N: late post but I hope it’s worth the wait

#alexia putellas #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #lucy bronze #keira walsh #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #ingrid engen #mapi leon #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x y/n #futfem

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