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#i did not mean to just go off in the comments
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she's mean, and he loves her for it.
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summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none
Masterlist
"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.
"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."
Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."
"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"
Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.
"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.
-----
It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.
Sometimes, too serious.
You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.
"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."
"I think he's scared to breakup with her."
"I bet she's high maintenance."
"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"
You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.
Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.
Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.
Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.
"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.
"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.
Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"
Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."
He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"
"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"
"Yes, and?"
"I'll skip, thanks."
He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.
While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?
Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.
After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.
With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.
"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"
Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."
"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."
"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.
You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.
"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"
He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."
He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"
"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.
But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.
-----
Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.
Everyone's more scared of you.
You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.
"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.
Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."
"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.
"You know he's going to be fine, right?"
You sigh. "I'm just worried."
You remember there was a day when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.
"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.
"What is it, Yuuji?"
"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"
You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.
He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.
"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."
You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"
"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."
You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."
"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.
As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to watch here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."
Once the kids are gone, you examine his face before pressing your lips to his. He's here now. He's back. He's safe. "What took you so long?"
A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto and went to teach some kids a lesson."
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whispereons · 3 days
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Oracle!Reader Part 24
Masterlist - Part 1, Part 23
Warning! My AU is yandere and can involve gore. Sensitive topics appear in this series. This chapter is a bit bloody but not that bad.
In all honesty, you never expected to be the one to say ‘no’ to a proposal. Love wasn't something you frequently chased, and being a heartbreaker was even farther from your mind.
Maybe that's why you laughed so merrily at Zhongli’s face when you rejected him.
Then again, he wasn't proposing his heart, nor his love. Morax, Rex Lapis, or rather  Zhongli was offering an alliance of mutual benefit.
“What's your reasoning for rejecting my proposal? I may not marry you as the Geo Archon, but I'm not undesirable as I am now.”
He takes a moment to think as his fingers taps on his chin. The way the diamond of his iris shrinks and the slight grimace on his face raises a red flag in your mind. 
“You aren’t rejecting me solely due to the fact that I’m not operating as this country’s Archon are you?”
.
.
.
The smile on your face becomes tight as your hand shakes with the unmeasurable amount of effort to not flip him off right there. Just what did you do that could have caused such a stupid reasoning to come from his usually smart mouth?
“What the fuck made you think that I even gave a shit about you being an Archon?” Well maybe you couldn’t hold your tongue, but granted you didn’t really need to either.
The man bristles, but ultimately doesn’t answer your question, choosing to instead repeat the first question. “Why are you rejecting my proposal, then?”
“Because you don’t love me.”
“I could learn to love you.”
“But that goes against the terms and conditions of what a marriage is supposed to consist of.”
This brings Zhongli to a halt as he stews on your answer. With a smaller voice, he continues, “The legalities of our marriage would be decided on what vows we utter during the ceremony.”
“Not according to the Creator.” It’s like saying ‘no you’ in an argument, especially with how Zhongli’s face contorts into clear annoyance. 
“With what proof do you claim that as the truth? Nothing in any scriptures on Teyvat says that.” He seems to realize what answer you’ll give him even before you open your mouth by sighing.
“Because I’m the Oracle.” The self-satisfied smirk on your face is clear as you step closer to poke his chest. “Unless you’re suddenly going to claim that I’m wrong? Should we cut off another limb? Maybe your pitiful rat-tail as an ornament to decorate it.”
He pushes you away by your head, the material of your mask is cool under his fingers as you let him push you back with a laugh. He tsks at your antics and smoothly replies.
“Have you finished laughing? There’s no need to pick at my appearance when I wouldn’t do the same to you, whenever you would have shown me your face once we wed.”
Light laughter calms down into a brief hum as you take in his words. It’s all just a well-timed cover-up for the internal panic that you had at realizing that marrying him would mean being forced to reveal yourself one way or another.
“Fair point. Do you really want a serious answer from me anyway?” The swift conversation turn doesn’t go unnoticed by Zhongli, but he concedes by answering.
“Yes. Your reasoning may bring me more information on the Creator’s personal beliefs, or even aspects of humanity that I failed to learn firsthand yet.”
“Like rejection?” The smart-ass reply is met with an unimpressed stare as he comments. “Humorous, but not incorrect.”
“I wasn’t completely joking when I said that it’s mostly due to the Creator. Marriage in Liyue at least is mostly decided by the parents.” Your chapped lips become a bit more manageable to speak with as you lick them. “I don’t remember mine, and the closest thing you have to a parent is the Creator themselves, or maybe Teyvat?” Which was a weird thought, but you couldn’t really be sure how to view it.
“Therefore your marriage, or at the very least, my marriage, considering that I was personally sent on a mission by them, should be under the Creator’s control and only theirs. My opinion on it shouldn’t matter.” This was how you remembered China’s history worked, so Liyue hypothetically should have a similar system.
Zhongli’s frown deepens at your answer as you shrug your shoulders. As if you didn’t just make this whole answer up so that you can avoid marrying the ticking time bomb that wouldn’t hesitate to murder you in a split second.
Sure, there was increasing evidence that your acolytes gained this weirdly strong attachment to you, but you weren’t betting your entire life on it. The moment the mask was gone, your life was going to follow it.
“Then it seems I can do nothing but accept your teaching. Thank you for enlightening me on a topic that I was unaware about. Can I chalk this up to something you learned about from the scriptures written in Cloud Ret-”
He cuts himself off as he looks down at the bustling streets below the balcony. “Xianyun’s old abode? The one’s written in indecipherable language?”
Damn, you really forgot about Cloud Retainer’s humansona. Just thinking about accidentally running into her during your visit to Madam Ping makes you irritated in advance.
“No, there are other scriptures that the Creator led me to when I was exploring.” You didn’t want Zhongli trying to trace it back to Cloud Retainers introvert cave. In fact, it was more entertaining to visualize Zhongli searching every nook and cranny of Liyue’s vast lands for said ‘scriptures’.
The sun hits your eyes directly from its position as you try to guess the time. It had to be at least 3:30 at this point, right? Just how much time did you have to see Madam Ping before the dinner with Ningguang?
Who were you even kidding, you didn’t know how to tell the time by the sun. You’ll have to ask someone once you finish rejecting Zhongli.
Noticing your far off gaze and attention no longer on him, Zhongli let the petty, unexplainable indignation at the action simmer as he forcefully turned your body to face the door.
“I believe I’ve taken up more than enough of your time. You’d best be on your way to whatever task may be next on your schedule today.”
Now you feel pretty bad about spacing out like that. “Sorry Zhongli, I was just trying to figure out the time-” Your words seemed to go ignored as he pushed you out the doorway.
“Don’t bother worrying.” Is his brief response. The touch and pressure of his hands is firm and reliable in a way you can’t fully describe, before they’re removed swiftly as if he was burned. “Instead, you can focus on relaying your gratitude the next time we meet.”
Before you can question the strange sentence, the door is already slammed shut in your face. The whiplash of his actions settles as you stare at the wood in bewilderment. Instinctive, your feet lead you back down the stairs as you toss Zhongli’s sudden attitude and words in your mind.
Surely you weren’t that rude? You’ve done and said much worse things to him after all. Replaying your conversation yielded no new revelations, so with a sense of unease, you decide to take his push for your departure as his weird version of sulking.
What he expected you to thank him for wasn’t something you were going to worry about now. The sun shines on you, making the mask a bit warmer against your skin as you exit the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. 
If he didn’t bother explaining what you should be thanking him for, then it must be something either very big or very noticeable. Walking past where the balcony was, you look up and can only spot the empty chairs and simple table.
Time will tell, you suppose.
-----------------------
You aren’t completely sure how you expected your meeting with Madam Ping to go, but being stuck inside the temple with your neck being examined carefully by the older woman wasn’t a possibility you had in mind.
“Um, Madam Ping, I’m quite sure Xianyun’s claw marks aren’t there anymore. They’ve long healed at this point.”
“Child, you shouldn’t brush off injuries left by the Adepti so easily. Many can leave varying, strange and frankly annoying effects that can permanently alter your body if not taken care of.”
Sighing, you use your right arm to sip the tea Ping generously made for you, as your left arm was also being examined for any amber fragments from Mountain Shaper.
“You really don’t have to worry. Dr. Baizhu was the one who healed me up, so there’s nothing off about my body.” Ping relents and lets you fix your clothing as she steps away.
It was honestly surprising when she first spotted you and immediately apologized for her Adepti companion's actions. Yaoyao and Shuyu, Xianyun’s youngest disciple, were quick to be corralled away as Madam Ping brought you to one of the smaller rooms for examination.
“It must be an illuminated bird quality to be somewhat violent toward me. Maybe when I meet Xiao, I’ll get an injury from him too.” The joke slips out easily, but when Ping sighs and shakes her head in disapproval, you’re quick to shut your mouth.
“That would be even worse, as the karmic debt can be accidentally seeped into your wound that way.” Each sentence Ping says is clear worry, so you can’t be too annoyed at the slight nagging.
“Even still, I hope you have it in your heart to pray that the Creator forgive my headstrong and stubborn companions.” And here’s the catch. “I’m afraid it hasn’t been long since any of them have been trying this hard to understand humans on a personal level, so they tend to revert into their more proud egos when faced with the unexpected.”
There it was, all the excuses. You were really hoping Ping wouldn’t be the kind enabler that asks the victim to forgive the assaulter under the guise of some excuse. You’ve dealt with more than enough back on earth when bullies actually had abuse and other fucked up shit going on at home. 
Likewise, you weren’t about to put up with it from some ‘illuminated beings’ that had more than enough years to learn how not to be judgmental sad sacks of shi-
“I’ll still properly scold them for you, but it’s the Creator’s opinion that I’m truly concerned about.” Would you get in trouble for punching her? Probably. Yanfei is close with her and the best lawyer in existence.
It wasn’t worth it, you told yourself. It wasn’t worth it to argue with Ping about whether it was okay for the Adepti to hurt you or anyone else, solely depending on how connected they were to the Creator. It absolutely wasn’t worth it to point out how the Adepti’s lack of control over their emotions and harsh judgements couldn’t just be scolded away. And that they definitely weren’t allowed to get away with unneeded violence simply because they’re stubborn.
The building tension as Ping continued to ramble and your death grip on your pants was broken by Yanfei walking in while looking off to the side.
“Granny, I heard you came - Oh. Hello there!”  Yanfei’s casual greeting had you melting back into the oracle position as you smile calmly at Yanfei. 
“Hey, nice to meet you. I was just talking with-” You’re cut off by Ping moving to stand in front of Yanfei and begin to explain and introduce you. Including the fact that the other Adepti attacked you and that you were the oracle.
Well, it’s better than you retelling the story. It’s better to let others lie for you, especially considering the close relations. It’s not like Ping’s way of speaking was fast or overwhelming, it just felt like you would be wrong for whatever reason if you tried interfering.
Doesn’t stop the surge of annoyance, though.
Deciding to just leave as soon as possible and not get into a fist fight with a hidden Adeptus, you move off the bed and walk closer to the duo. Without much trouble, you’re able to slip past them until a hand tugs your wrist quickly before releasing it.
“Sorry, but I just wanted to introduce myself to you before you leave. My name is Yanfei. I'm the top legal advisor in Liyue.” A business card is handed to you as she speaks.
Accepting it, you examine the card to not be rude before stuffing it into your bag. While you’ll probably forget about it, it’s not bad to have it in case you visit Fontaine. Or if things with Ninggnuang get into legal territory.
What actually got your attention was how Yanfei went through the trouble of cutting off Ping to speak personally to you. Could this be the first Adepti related character to treat you with respect as a normal person?
The fact that you’re amazed by basic human decency is pretty fucking sad. The difference in treatment between her and Ganyu despite both of them being half-adeptus is staggering.
“Thank you. Just as Madam Ping explained, my name is Y/N, and I’m an Oracle for the Creator.” At least the old woman didn’t butt in yet. “Yaoyao visited me yesterday to meet her. I just didn’t expect to meet you here as well.”
“You suit your position rather well.” Her head tilts slightly to the side, making the Mora decorations jingle. “Although I haven’t met you before, just by your appearance alone I can guess that you’re either-” A finger is raised. “A - you’re not from here. Or B - you don’t have a traditional job.” The second finger joins the first as she takes in your appearance in completion.
“I would put inhuman beings or vision holders on the list, but your aura is completely that of a human, but also not one of a vision holder. In a way, you remind me of the traveler.”
“It does make sense.” You reply with a noncommittal shrug. “The traveler was the first Acolyte, and I’m the first Oracle, so there’s bound to be some uncanny similarities between us.” 
Madam Ping wistfully sighs at the mention of the traveler. “Ah yes, the Hero of Liyue. I was able to gift them that teapot, but what a shame that I don’t have another one to spare for you, esteemed Oracle.”
And here comes the half-praise, half-demeaning words that’s meant to belittle you into feeling worthless while giving meager praise to make her sound generous. 
“There would be no need to, since I intend on enjoying our God’s creations rather than hiding away from it in an Adeptal piece of machinery.” A wide grin adorns your face with canines clear to see, but your voice is as excited as a child’s with innocence clear.
Those that hear you would assume nothing but ignorance at fault, but the ones that can see how your eyes dimly gleam with mockery would think otherwise.
Isn’t it so good that Yanfei is by your side while Ping is in front of you?
The words clearly hit a nerve, as Ping’s smile drops into a horribly wrinkled frown. Yanfei’s teal eyes look between you two with a smile that dissolves into a confused furrow of her brows.
“My apologies, child, I was unaware that you were so deprived of empathy for others that you can reduce the hard work of the Creator’s chosen protectors of this land into a symbol of defilement.” The last few words are scathing as her face contorts into a gruesome mess of sagging skin.
“Granny, I understand why you’re mad but-” Yanfei takes a step forward, but is cut off by Ping raising her hand while stepping closer to you.
“I can now understand why Shenhe, that poor pitiful child, was so conflicted about her emotions toward you. I may not understand why the Creator chose a human of your breed to have that holy position, but I can only pray that this journey teaches you a lesson concerning those that you have wronged in this way.”
“Granny!” Yanfei yells in shock as she moves between you two, “How could you say something like that to them? You’re not only insulting them, you’re also insulting the Creator!” 
She turns around to face you as she shots a grimace behind her at the fuming hag. “I am so sorry about this, you should probably go now.” 
Nodding with a sad expression, you speak in a confused tone. “I-I understand. It was nice meeting you and Madam Ping. I hope we can talk again sometime.” Twisting open the doorknob and pushing it open, you sneak one last peek into the room.
Yanfei has her back to you as she yells on a whisper level. Ping doesn’t look all that pleased until her eyes stray to yours. The smugness practically rolls off you in waves as she scorns at you with disgust. 
-------------------------
It was official.
You were lost.
Looking at the doors and people walking around you, you tried to remember what path you took with Ping. But each door looked the same, with different people rushing in and out.
None of them even had time to talk to you as they wheeled out screaming and bleeding people from room to room. You got glimpses of dressings pressed haphazardly on wounds as you continued walking.
Surely you still had enough time until Ningguang’s dinner?
Trying not to freak out over the time, you continue marching throughout the seemingly endless hallways and avoid bumping into the doctors, nurses and more that rush around you. Eventually you arrive at an area of the building that looks a bit calmer.
You spot a woman wearing a dress looking similar to a work uniform and decide to ask her for directions leading out of the temple. You’re about to call out to her when she opens a door and enters it while cheerfully calling out.
“Thank you so much for all the help despite your busy schedule!” She continues to walk in, giving a half-hearted push to close it. 
Sneakily, you plant your foot right at the hinge of it, making it stop before it actually closes. A sense of déjà vu nags you as you stand outside the room with your head resting against the wall. You close your eyes to listen to the conversation.
“It’s no trouble at all, Daiyu. I always enjoy volunteering to help those who offer sacrifices to the Creator here.” There’s a light tilt to the voice while remaining sturdy, a good indicator that the speaker is who you think it is.
“Even so, as the Yuheng of Liyue, you still have many duties. Much more than you did when you first began to help out all those years ago…” The anxious woman is met with a brief chuckle.
“As I’ve said before, Daiyu, you can call me Keqing during these times. I’m not here as the Yuheng, but as a servant of our God to learn more.” The faint click of heels can be heard as drawers of what you assume are bandages are opened.
“Well, have you finally come to a conclusion? You know about whether self-mutilation is an ‘overdone’ and an ‘inferior’ way of worshiping the Creator?” The question is met with brief silence before Keqing responds.
“I’ve already made up my mind around the same time as Rex Lapis’s death. Self-mutilation isn’t exactly wrong per se, but it should not be our main way of worship. Our bodies were painstakingly crafted by the Creator’s hands and should not be abused. It’s why I’ve strived to keep myself in perfect shape.”
A sigh can be heard with an almost bitter note.
“But humans can not regrow lost limbs. Thus, I do not believe self-mutilation is the best way for humanity to worship the gods. Blood offerings and even human offerings of other criminals can be done, but I believe that self-mutilation should be left for extreme sins and for the Adepti to present.”
With eyes trained to the blood-stained floorboards beneath your feet, you push yourself off the wall. It seemed you weren’t going to gain any useful information from here. 
“The public won’t accept that kind of view that goes against what we’ve been taught for thousands of years. Then again, that never stopped you before - Aw, damn it! There’s barely any medical supplies here, too.”
The tapping of your feet walking away is concealed by the clicking of heels.
“There’s nothing left? Ugh, probably Ningguang again. She’s always doing this stuff.”
But perhaps you should have stayed just a bit longer. 
“The Tianquan?! Oh, please don’t let her know what I said! I quite like my job!”
“Relax, Daiyu, she wouldn’t care about your complaints even if she did hear them.”
“Then why are you frowning like that?”
You never know what you might hear.
“It’s just a bit strange to me. Not long ago she was doing all sorts of planning with an annoyed expression, but this morning she was pleased. She must have either taken care of whatever was bothering her or hatched the perfect, foolproof plan for it.”
----------------------------
Thankfully, you did manage to find your way back to the first floor. (When did you even walk up the stairs?) Most of the people there were rather calm, with incense and prayer rooms decorating this floor. 
The smell was of cinnamon and something with a strong woody scent. The one’s in the prayer rooms had healed scars exposed, either doing a full floor bow or at least on their knees.
If they had them, at least.
It was a gruesome sight if you were to be honest. Some had skin raw red from what looked like boil scars, others with self-inflicted writing carved into their skin. Words like; ‘Holy One’, ‘Savior’, and the most popular one of all: ‘Beloved Creator’ were in some way permanently branding their skin.
The wind blew from a certain hallway, as if Teyvat was trying to finally lend you a hand in leaving this temple of smoke and blood. Taking long strides past the rooms that muttered and screamed at varying levels and intervals, you see a set of wide doors.
WHAM
The whir of a sliding door before it slams into the doorway is all you hear before a hand is wrapped firmly around your wrist and pulling you into the dark room. Your breath is knocked out of you as the soles of your shoes search for purchase.
Your hands reach up to where you were grabbed to dig into the scalp of your assailant before you both fall to the ground from the struggle. 
“Let go of me!” You grit out as the slender fingers continue trying to pin you down. A feminine grunt of pain is heard as you finally manage to push her away, making your assaulter hit the wall.
Like hell! You weren’t just going to leave after being attacked for no fucking reason. Rushing forward, you pin the person against the wall as your eyes adjust to the dark room. Silvery hair can be seen in a tangle between your fingertips as you hold her wrists against the wall.
“Shenhe, what the fuck were you thinking? Are you still pissed at me? I thought we cleared it all up.” With a mix of anger, disbelief and pure confusion, you stare at her face as her features slowly become more defined.
“I just wanted to see you again…” The kicked puppy look is not suiting the bloody bandages wrapped around her left eye. Or what used to be her eye. “I didn’t hurt you this time.”
“Dragging an unsuspecting person into a dark room isn't not hostile either, Shenhe.” She simply stares at you in silence, as if she’s incompetent enough to not understand your words. “We almost fought to our deaths last time we met. How am I not supposed to assume that you’re trying to hurt me?”
Shenhe’s head drops a little bit as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly with no success. After giving her a moment, you sigh with a hint of annoyance and let go of her. “I have to get going, Shenhe. I'm not going to sit and wait forever.”
“I’m sorry.” You glance back down at Shenhe as she sits on her knees with her hands clenched tightly on her thighs. “I’m sorry for hunting you down so insistently while framing you as someone who wronged me on a personal level.”
Could you really accept this apology when you did stab her first for killing those Hilichurls you were friends with? Then again, they did give you liquor while Shenhe convinced herself that you were an evil entity. “Thanks for the apology, but that still doesn’t change much. I spent days in Bubu Pharmacy trying not to die from all the shit you and Yelan put me through.”
“I already heard about it and saw the vivid details of your healing progress while I waited outside your window that day.” Those words alone had you whipping your head around to her as your jaw dropped.
“Shenhe, what the hell!?” She staggers back to her feet with a worrying sway before taking mute steps towards your shocked form.
“A good partner is one who is attentive and keeps detailed track of their lover's affairs and health, correct?” Trying to wrap your head around the twisted logic she presents you with, you bury your face in your hands.
“Yes, but not in the context of our relationship.” You stress as your arm automatically reaches out to stop her from swaying to the ground. With your hand firmly on her arm, you continue to speak. “I know that you don’t really use that word often considering Xianyun’s teachings, but it’s pretty fucking important.”
A sole iridescent blinks lazily at you before her whole body weight is pressing down on you. It’s less of a hug and more like a ‘glomp’. Deciding to hold her by her waist to prevent being crushed by the pure muscle mass that made up her body, her forehead rests on your shoulder.
It’s burning. Definitely unusual for a Cryo vision holder.
“Shenhe? Shenhe can you hear me?” You ask as her glazed over eye stares into yours with no recognition seen in them. Swinging your head around, you finally spot a blood stained coat off to the side.
“C’mon, Shenhe, just work with me a bit to get you back to bed.” You spit out as you carry more of her weight to avoid dragging her on the floor. Thankfully, she helps out by wrapping her legs around your body and despite the slight constriction, you still manage to carry her back to bed.
Dropping her on the bed, you carefully fix her up. Brushing her hair out of her face, pulling the covers back over body, and adjusting the surrounding bandages around her injured eye to fit snugly. 
She did apologize after all, it would be cruel of you to leave a person with a fever and probably an infection a mess on a bed. 
That didn’t mean you were going to stay and nurse her back to health. Ningguang was probably at the restaurant at this point, and you weren’t going to be late for it.
Turning around, you take a quiet step toward the exit until a hand wraps frantically around your wrist.
“You forgive me, right?” Heavy breathing fills the room as her sweaty skin clings to the little contact she has with you. “I apologized sincerely, I’ll do it again if I must.” A trembling eye stares into your soul as her voice breaks. “Please…”
You stare down at the disciple with an unreadable expression until a smile breaks out onto your face. Shenhe’s grip loosens as hope begins to light up. Your other hand gently removes her fingers from your wrist before you whisper.
“Why don’t you sleep on it, Shenhe?”
Her eyes slide shut from pure exhaustion as you walk away and exit the room. After taking note of the room number, you resume your short walk to the exit. A nurse is nearby and just as you pull one of the wide doors open, you lean in to whisper a brief message.
The door closes shut behind you as the nurse rushes away. With careful footsteps, you walk leisurely toward the Xinyue Kiosk. The burning stares of civilians and soldiers alike are rolled off you in waves.
It was pointless to fight with the puppets when the puppet master invited you to meet her.
A feel like this part took forever. It's just the beginning of my spring break before I have another quiz and exam. So my break is just more studying, wonderful. My editor didn't need to do much considering the small size but I also feel like this wasn't the best of my work. I did write piece by piece every few nights when I got back home dead tired. I really can't wait for this semester to end…. But I'm also really excited to get started on the dinner with Ningguang! Taglist is always open!
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sunnyaelia · 1 day
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Anger and Regret
okay last one and I promise the next thing I post will be something freshly written again!!
request was this:
angst hurt/comfort request from tonight’s west ham game to cheer us up? 🙃 where reader and leah have been dating for some time but long distance, then reader just recently transferred to west ham and in the game against each other reader scored a hat trick putting west ham in the lead but leah is so angry (mostly cause it was her first time in the starting line up and she was disappointed) and she takes it out on the reader and reader is so sad cause she just wants her gf to be proud of her 🙃
Angst, comfort and happy ending all in one
-
Leah was fuming, having had to helplessly watch from the sideline as West Ham tore them a new one in the second half. She had been feeling proud at Alessias goal that gave them the lead. So as she got taken off the pitch at half time she was slightly relaxing. That quickly changed when you got put on - her girlfriend and one of the newest signings for WestHam, along with Kristie.
Both of you had switched from the US teams to the WSL for your partners and were therefore quite close. You were good, easily getting offers from Arsenal when you announced your departure from your old club - but Arsenal was stacked when it came to attacking players and therefore you had chosen West Ham instead, not wanting to rot on the bench. Leah hadn’t been too happy at your choice though she accepted it of course and she couldn’t deny that you really brought some new drive into the club, your goals enough to keep the team far away from the threatened relegation. Your girlfriend had been unbelievably proud to see it - now though, she was less amused when you kept banging goal after goal into the net, right past Manus fingertips.
The genuinely impressed comment from Beth at your hat trick when it was 3:1 for WestHam at the end of the game did nothing to improve Leah’s mood in the slightest, incredibly upset with herself for not getting this absolutely crucial win. 
So, when later on in the tunnel you grabbed your girlfriends wrist wanting to both comfort her and also see her reaction at your hat trick, she pulled her hand back like she’d been burned. You were surprised at her next words, used to Leah being extremely competitive but usually she would just sulk and not get outright mean. 
“Came to gloat?” 
A frown on your face you tried to reach out for her hand again, only to be rejected once more as she took a step back.
“I didn’t want to gloat, I just wanted to check on you Leah.” 
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your pity.” 
Feeling the sting at how cold your girlfriend sounded you tried to remind yourself that she was a really sore loser and you had known that when you started dating her. This was nothing personal. 
“Leah come on, we aren’t threatening you that much, it’s just special that we were fighting for relegation and now we beat someone who’s in the top 3.” 
“Half our team has just recovered from an acl, it’s really not that special.” Leah’s voice had a bite in it that you really weren’t used to, your girlfriend usually super sweet and especially super proud whenever you’d score. 
You bit your lip, trying not to say anything to upset her further and nodded, eyes on the ground. 
When Leah didn’t say anything else you sighed, realising that it’d probably be better to go and celebrate with your teammates, Leah was definitively not in the mood to talk to you. “Guess I’ll see you later Leah.” 
She barely hummed and you tried to suppress your tears as you quickly walked to the bathroom, not wanting to break down in front of your new team. You had hoped that Leah would just concentrate on the fact that you had scored - a hat trick as well - and wouldn’t focus on you beating her beloved team. Seemed like she just couldn’t do that right now. 
Thankfully you managed to calm down enough that you could keep yourself from actually crying, definitely not willing to talk about the fight and your girlfriend’s treatment of you right now to anyone who would ask about your tears.
Walking into the changing room Kristie was one of the first ones to jump on you, nearly taking you to the ground. Everyone was talking excitedly, happy about beating Arsenal and now taking the ninth place and even though you were still disappointed and sad at how Leah had reacted, you made sure to put on a smile, not wanting to grab anyone’s attention.
Thankfully nobody had the time to celebrate since training was starting up again tomorrow and you were all exhausted, so you didn’t have to put on a happy face for too long, getting taken to your and Leah’s shared apartment by Kristie who wanted to visit Sam now anyway. 
You were glad when you were finally alone, Leah apparently not home yet. You took a shower and then just let it out, sobbing into your pillow. Sad about how the day had went, sad that you and Leah weren’t on the same team and were therefore not rooting for the same one, sad that Leah wasn’t able to just put the rivalry aside for once and be happy for you and sad that you scored a hat trick and instead of being happy it was now overshadowed by your girlfriends reaction. 
Meanwhile Leah was still in the changing room, having taken an eternity to shower and get changed and now slowly putting her last stuff in her bag. 
“Oi.” Katie appeared, having watched the game from the sidelines because of her last yellow card. “Where’s the missus?” 
“With her team.”
Katie didn’t seem to notice that something was up, happily continuing to chat. 
“Ya know, I’d be so proud if that was my girlfriend. Really signed someone good there. Sucks for us of course but at least now they should be save from relegation.” She opened the door and took a playful bow as Leah just marched through, wanting to get home and be alone finally. 
Leah was silently walking next to her as Katie continued to blabber, a bit lost in her own thoughts. 
Katie’s next words pulled her out it: “I’m happy you took it well.” She gave her a pat on the shoulder. “She moved here just for you, it’s nice that you two can healthily deal with one person winning and one person losing.” 
With that she bid her goodbye and was gone. 
As Leah sat in her car, the 20 minute drive home had her overthinking her earlier actions. If only Katie knew that she hadn’t put the rivalry aside at all. She had been quite mean about it too, cringing internally at how she had used the acls as an excuse. Speeding up slightly, she prayed that you would be home and hadn’t gone out with the team, wanting to apologise for her behaviour. 
You were indeed home, she discovered. But you were asleep, laying in your shared bed, a few tissues laying around and your eyes swollen, some tear tracks still visible on your face. Leah’s heart broke at the sight, feeling terrible at how she had treated you. 
So, determined to make it right once you woke up, she hopped right back into her car and to the flower shop, getting you a big bouquet. She also got your favourite ice cream and some food for breakfast tomorrow, knowing that she couldn’t cook to save her life but also not wanting you to do it after she had already ruined your day. 
Back home she checked on you quickly who was still laying there and sleeping peacefully. Leah removed the tissues around you and then placed water and an ibuprofen on the nightstand. You always got terrible headaches from crying and it looked like you’d been crying a lot so you’d probably need it. She had also placed two cooling pads in the fridge, knowing that you’d be annoyed at how swollen your eyes would be the next day. 
She was very careful when she finally slipped into bed next to you, the flowers in a vase on the table along with the plates already set for breakfast tomorrow. Gently,  so you wouldn’t wake up, she pulled you into her arms, giving your still stained cheeks a soft kiss before drifting off as well. 
The next morning your head was pounding, sitting up with a groan at the pain. You were surprised to find the water and pill on your nightstand, smiling softly at the sight of Leah with very messy hair next to you, glad that she had come home and apparently forgiven you for making Arsenal lose. 
You quietly got up and went to the bathroom, ready to assess the damage that the tears had caused. It was truly awful, you had cried on and off for a few hours, just letting the whole stress of this season out and the result was incredibly swollen eyes that still had a red rim along with blotchy skin.
You sighed, deciding to wash your face with cold water and then carefully dried it with a towel. Since your view was obstructed you nearly jumped a feet in the air when Leah’s hands suddenly wrapped around you from behind, pressing herself into you. 
Slowly lowering the towel from your eyes you met Leah’s in the mirror, her stomach turning at just how clear it was that you’d been crying. 
She buried herself into your neck, glad that you let her. 
“I’m really sorry for my behaviour, I truly have no excuse. And I’m terribly sorry that I made you cry, I really didn’t mean to.” 
Heart softening quickly at her words muffled into the embrace you leaned back into her more, twisting your neck so you could give her a kiss. 
“It’s alright. Just don’t let the rivalry get to your head next time, yeah?” 
Leah nodded though it looked like she was holding something back so with a slight furrow of your brows you turned in her arms and gently grabbed her face so she’d look at you. 
“What’s wrong?” 
Leah swallowed hard, eyes still avoiding looking at you while she spoke. 
“It wasn’t really about the rivalry, I just.. I’ve just come back from my acl and it already feels like all the pressure is on me. I see how people talk about Putellas and how she’s lost her touch after her acl and just isn’t that good anymore and I’m terrified that people are going to say this about me. It’s the first game that I’ve started in as captain since the injury and I just wanted to be good.” 
You frowned at her words. Your girlfriend was always quite hard on herself but you hadn’t realised just how bad it was. Gently pulling her into a hug, you tried to comfort her by rubbing her back before pulling away and answering her. 
“There’s always going to be someone who thinks you should have done better. Nobody who actually plays football and especially nobody who has ever done their acl will blame you for yesterday. It went great in the first half, you had the 1:0 lead and then you got subbed off and suddenly we were winning. That seems more like they shouldn’t have taken you off.” Leah chuckled at your words, feeling a lot lighter now that she had told you that she was scared. 
You gave her another hug, tightly squeezing her. 
“What someone online says really doesn’t matter. You need to stop looking at that stuff.” 
Leah nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath, relieved that it was out and relieved that you were not mad at her apparently. 
You stepped back slightly and offered her a hand: “Come on, I need an ice pack for my eyes and then I’ll make you breakfast.” 
Leah grinned before grabbing you around your waist and carrying you downstairs, ignoring you protesting and trying to squirm out of her grip, forever annoyed that your girlfriend could just easily take you wherever which she loved to do simply to get on your nerves. 
Placing you right in front of the fridge, she opened it, pulling out the almost done breakfast she would just have to reheat and the two ice packs for your eyes she had already put in yesterday for you. You smiled at her, softening at how your girlfriend had already known what you would need now. 
Your smile widened when she showed you the ice cream and then the already set table with the flowers on it, pulling her into a deep kiss as a thank you. 
Leah pulled away first, slightly breathless. “I’m sorry again. I’ll do better next time, I promise.” 
You nodded, though you couldn’t resist teasing her a bit: 
“Next time I beat your ass again?”
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nostappen · 21 hours
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LET ME BE THE LIGHTER | MV #CH8
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series summary : max raced knowing he’d win. You raced as if you had nothing else to lose. That was something the fans of F1 had grown accustomed to since you joined. Being the only driver who could truly make the Max Verstappen break a sweat during this season, all the odds seemed to be in your favor during one eventful race where you could finally overtake him on the last few laps, breaking his winning streak and also —by consequence — yours and his peace in the near future.
warnings (contains spoilers) : angst, media hate, bad comments, slut shaming, shaming in general, men being disgusting, allusions to anxiety, brief mention of past trauma and bad parental figures, swearing. possible erros in the sns part (not edited).
↻ links : prev . masterlist . next
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CHAPTER EIGHT # PICKING UP YOUR PIECES
Under complete discretion, you wandered across the paddock disguised as a staff member from Mercedes, accompanied by some members of your team. 
You successfully avoided reporters and the fans crowding the main entrance of the place by jumping a fence near the garages with the help of Susie, then talked amicably your entire way to your spot with her and were received by some people with your clothes for the day. Hiding under some black Mercedes shirt, a pair of washed-off jeans, and one cap, you felt nearly invincible against the cameras. 
No one truly expected you to be on the grid after many days of missing preparations for the races and two out of the three practices, yet here you were, in your planned disguise, fully knowing no one would pay you any mind since you never wore Mercedes attire unless it was race day and you absolutely had to wear a suit.
“Be honest, I look ugly, right?” You say admiring your reflection in the small mirror Max reluctantly holds up for you. 
He, much like you, is here hanging under complete discretion. 
Verstappen is supposed to be in his garage going over some items for the third practice, yet he sprinted to your spot the second he found out you were here. You promised to give him some food you cooked for him and your friends, so he stayed around for longer than expected under the excuse of being hungry and bored out of his mind. 
“I mean…” He shrugs, moving his shoulders up and down and getting your reflection out of the frame, causing you to groan in annoyance. “No, no, listen.” He quickly lowers the mirror and attempts to save himself from some possible complaining. “It’s not like you look ugly. You cannot look ugly, even if you tried, but the Mercedes fit is a bit…” 
“So, you think I’m pretty.” You smile and raise up his arm so you can take a good look at yourself again. “I knew it. I knew your way of flirting was teasing and being an ass, just like those stupid kids on kindergarden.” 
“What?” He frowns and sees you doing a little twirl before accommodating your Mercedes cap backward.
“You know, when you were a kid and liked another classmate so you pushed their buttons until they caught onto your weird flirting.” 
“I never did that.” He lowers the mirror and you groan at him again. “What, woman? Just go to a bathroom if you wanna stare at your reflection so badly.” 
He feigns annoyance but his small smile gives him away in this situation. The more irritated you grow, the less tense he acts around you, and you cannot help but follow in his banter just to see him more relaxed around you. 
Truth be told, you had invited him to hangout just to test the waters after your serious talk in your house. 
He had texted you for the first two days, updating you about things you didn’t ask for, and you appreciated his attempts at maintaining a civil conversation through the phone. You could tell he was really trying to get on your good side and make this more bearable, and you wanted to give him the same reassurance by replying to all of his texts and even adding some updates from your side as well, even if you didn’t have much to say. 
Sometimes he’d ask at different hours of the day what you were up to, and you’d reply saying you took a few pictures around the place or were binge-watching some shows on the TV. Then he’d tell you about his car or some things he saw on the paddock, and you’d keep the conversation going for a few more minutes until he had to leave to help around with some members of the staff, and when he returned, he’d ask how you were feeling and how was the TV show, or ask you to share some of the pictures you took. 
It made things easier  and you could tell it helped Max to bond a bit with you, so you never attempted to call him or invite him over in his free time, because you believed he needed to take smaller steps first and then truly approach you in a friendlier manner; but there was also a possibility that he only wanted to keep your relations professional and he was treating you amicably because you had attempted to understand him despite the things he did to you, so you didn’t push it too hard. 
You weren’t sure about Max’s intentions and that was alright with you. As long as he didn’t backtrack on his words or hurt you in any way, you’d let things flow between you two. 
“I’m not going anywhere. Carlos will arrive any minute now and I want to be here to greet him,” your hand goes back to his wrist, raising his arm again and this time you observe your face, touching multiple spots you don’t like before frowning. “I like my face.” 
“You don’t sound so convinced…” Max replies with his eyes fixated on you. “Why aren’t you convinced?” 
“I mean, I do like how I look but sometimes I look at myself too intensely and I no longer like what I see. It’s whatever though, whenever that happens I just remind myself I like what I see and hope I believe my words.” 
“Well, I like your face,” he finally puts the mirror on a free spot next to him and makes an extra effort to maintain eye contact after admitting that. A cheeky smile forms on your face and you bop his nose cutely before giggling. “Never, ever, do that again.” 
“What? This?” You bop his nose again and he grabs your finger before you can retreat it completely, lowering it to his mouth before attempting to touch it with the tip of his tongue. “No, ew! Fuck off, Max Emilian. Fucking shit,” you frown, wiping your finger on your jeans. “You are disgusting.” 
Max smiles, entertained with your over the top reaction, and holds both hands up in defense. “You are disgusting too.” 
“How can you like my face if you find me disgusting?” You press him and a pair of arms wraps under your torso, making you yelp before someone rests his chin on top of your head. “Carlos?” 
“Yeah, and I’m also here too,” you hear George before you see him appearing on your left. “Oh, God. What’s this arse shit doing here?” He points at Max and the dutch rolls his eyes. 
“Nice to see you too, royal blasphemy.” You laugh a little over Max’s words and he smiles at your reaction. “You too, Carlos.” 
“I’m also a royal blasphemy?” The man asks teasingly, bringing you closer to his chest and you put a hand on top of his tight grip around you. “I thought bullying hours were only open for George.” 
“We can do a 2x1 promotion,” you reply before pinching his skin and making him yelp and retreat surprised. “How many times have I told you and everybody else that I do not like when sweaty people touch me?” 
“Princess,” Carlos tries to reason and you turn around, pressing your index to his chest. “I just came from training. Of course I’m sweaty.” 
“Then stay away. No hugs until you take a shower, understood, Carly?” Max gets up from his seat behind you, adjusting his cap visor better and giving a nod towards George as a small goodbye, before taking two steps away from you, then he gets stopped by your voice. “Where do you think you are going, Verstappen?” You repproach. 
“I can be your mirror holder later, okay? I just need to get some stuff sorted out but I’ll be back,” he excuses himself and waves a hand timidly before continuing his path to his place, taking the small door behind the Mercedes garage to guide himself out instead of walking out through the garage entrance. 
You share a few confused looks with Carlos until you glance at George and notice him suppressing a laugh, which only serves to confuse you even more. 
By the time practice starts you will be out of the paddock again and on your way home in a car with Susie, ready  to spend the night with her and watch some movies or chit-chat, so you don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to wish everybody good luck, including Max. 
As you promised, you’ve cooked some stuff for your friends, —well, more like baked— but you had brought an extra paper bag with something inside that was only for Verstappen and didn’t involve any food, and you had to give it to him now before George or Carlos stepped in again. 
“Max! Max!” Grabbing the paper bag and the plate covered with some kitchen rags from the house, you stumble across the garage, muttering multiple apologies to some members of the staff, as you attempt to catch the Dutchman. “Emi!” You finally yell and he stops, turning around in the corridor connecting all garages. 
Max observes you with curiosity and a bit of fear, noticing you closing the gap between you two at a fast pace until you nearly push the trail of food against his chest and shake another small bag close to him with a happy smile. 
He has to retreat a bit and extend both hands forward to catch the plate and prevent the food from failing while simultaneously asking you what you wanted and why you didn’t stay with your friends. 
“I made you a gift!” You announce and let go of the plate, allowing him to carry on it fully. “But first, voila!” Your free hand takes off the rag, showing him six cupcakes. “Pick two.” Max, puzzled, points at the two cupcakes with blue frosting on top and small white bits. “Okay, no, pick another two.” 
Letting out a huff, Max points at the yellow ones, and you frown. “Why don’t you pick them for me?” 
“Wonderful!” You celebrate and push apart from the remaining two with green frosting and small bits of pink candy sprinkled around it. “These are for you.” 
Max wishes he could hate your excitement right now. You are being noisy, overly-dramatic and a bit too on the nose with your gifts, but you look at him so happily he cannot help but feel a bit excited as well over this. 
It wasn’t the biggest of presents, just a small treat before practice —, and if he had to be honest, you were making him waste crucial time before he got to test his car once more, but he was enjoying every second of it. Even the many minutes he held onto your mirror and acted like he wanted to be anywhere else but right next to you, he still smiled because he enjoyed spending time with you. 
At first, he was a bit awkward, he had to admit that. One thing was interacting casually through texts and trying to carry on a conversation for some minutes between breaks, but besides that, he didn’t expect this to reach anything else. He told you to visit him if you went to the paddock but he didn’t really believe you would, you weren’t close in the slightest, and after you missed two days of preparation, he thought you wouldn’t show up at all, yet you appeared out of nowhere dressed as a staff member and called for him from your garage to have a small talk that lead nowhere and only had him bickering and laughing with you. 
You promised him food and only now that he wanted to leave you remembered you had to give him the little treats all excited, and Max felt conflicted. 
Why were you still being nice to him? Had he made you any happier just by talking nonsense through text? Were you going to treat him as a friend now that you both shared a moment of sincerity? 
“Thank you,” Max decides to exaggerate just to irk you a little bit and grabs one of the two cupcakes. “These are totally my favorite colors. You know me so well, Schatje.” 
“Shut up, Emilian. I cooked those with love —.” 
“And poison, right?” He interrupts you. “You want to get me sick before practice.” 
“Bullshit, if I wanted you sick I would have food poisoned you the day of the actual race, not during practice.” You explain and grab the plate with a hand, moving the other close to his chest and making the paper bag hit him a little. “This is your present as well.” Max leaves the cupcake back on the plate and grabs the small gift, taking off a hat with the signature dark blue of Red Bull but without all the sponsors around, just one small ‘RB’ knitted near the back in orange. “No offense but the caps your team gives you are ugly.” 
“You knitted my team on a cap?” He asks absent-mindedly. 
“Because your caps are ugly.” 
“You knitted me a gift.” This time he sentences every word affirmatively, finally letting the information sink in. 
“To save you from the ugly caps of Red Bull,” you insist. “It has a thirty-three inside the cap as well so you never forget your first number, but I also added a small number one on the other side.” You point out with your finger and Max remains silent through your explanation, taking in all the little details around the hat. You’ve knitted the R and B tinily near the back and added a small sun near it.
The design is simple but it looks well put together and Max cannot begin to imagine how long it took you to get all those letters and numbers around. He was never skilled when it came to knitting or doing many smaller things that required patience. He liked to stick to racing and occasionally paddling, so he admired the drivers who had multiple skills besides the sport they shared in common. 
“Thank you,” Verstappen finally raises his head to see you and the corners of his mouth raise forming the cutest, most sincere smile you’ve ever seen on him. “This is the sweetest gift. I will make sure to repay you.” 
Noticing the burning sensation on your cheeks, you attempt to joke off your adorable gesture by pushing his shoulder slightly and laughing a bit. “You can repay me by coming in third or fourth during this weekend’s race.” 
“You’d hate me if I lost on purpose.” 
“You are right,” you take the plate away from him once he gets a hold of your cupcakes and also move two steps backwards. “Just do your best and don’t wear anything too ugly for interviews, will you? It’s embarrassing to see my boyfriend on TV wearing only Red Bull merch.” 
‘My boyfriend,’ Max dances around those two words you so naturally pronounced, and smiles again, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you probably called him that way just to tease him some more. 
It’s odd, but it sounds good whenever you refer to him as your partner, even if it is a joke. The words roll down your tongue naturally, like it’s meant to be. 
“You can catch me wearing this hat for the remaining interviews of the week,” he promises and takes a bite of a cupcake. “Oh, shit, this is delicious, what the fuck.” 
“I’m a master chef, baby.” 
“Fuck, yes you are. How much do I have to pay you to cook some more of these things?” 
“Well, I was thinking about dropping some of these on Sunday morning for the boys. I can bake you some too.” 
“I’d love that please.” 
“Only if you wear the hat and get rid of the skinny jeans.” 
Max laughs, taking another bite and shaking his head in negativity. Once he swallows the sweet treat completely he replies again. “You want me to go around in boxers and a Red Bull t-shirt?” He suggests and you frown, fixing your eyes on his mouth before cleaning a small portion of frosting from his top lip with your thumb. “What are..?” 
“You’ve got some…” you stop mid-sentence, concentrating on grabbing the green frosting from around his mouth and lowering your thumb near his chin. “You also have it here…” 
Against his better judgment, Max follows your movements, tracing a patter from your hand to your face before your touch abandons his face and his hand instinctively reaches for yours, clasping around it and bringing it forward just to clean it with the paw of his Red Bull jacket. 
“There, better,” Max nearly whispers with his eyes fixated on yours. “Thank you.” 
“You…I’m glad you liked the cupcake.” Quickly, you force your hand out of his grip and reach for the second cupcake, pushing it toward him timidly. “Here, have the other one. I have to go.” 
“I…” he barely pronounces, grabbing the treat, before you begin walking back into your garage without saying goodbye. 
Verstappen stays in his place for a few seconds in silence, confused over his and your actions. Warmness expands on his chest like a plague, mixing with a little weird sensation in his stomach as well. He feels a bit of everything: happiness, nervousness, excitement, confusion. It hits him so suddenly that he doesn’t know what to do except look at the direction you took to leave him abruptly and then force himself back into his garage with his cheeks rosy and his stomach mixing butterflies with green frosting and pink candy bits.
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“What the…?” 
You aren’t allowed to finish the sentence before the car gets parked in front of all the lights, making you retreat to the opposite corner of the back seat. 
Your driver turns off the engine, turning to look at you worriedly, and signals across all windows. There are reporters on the front, making it impossible to move the vehicle away from the entrance path to the wood’s house, but you also notice flashes coming from the back as well, making you realize that you are surrounded by more than the average amount of reporters. 
“We need to go,” you demand to the driver and he suggests waiting until they move but your patience is running thin as well as your energy. You stayed longer than expected, visiting a few friends around the paddock and even going as far as joining the Mercedes meeting to get some updates regarding your car and the strategy the team will be using. “Now.” 
“We cannot move from here. I can try to walk you out.”
“No way, they will jump us in a second.” 
“We can push past them. It will be better than waiting here until they leave…because they won’t.” The driver concludes and you unlock your phone, quickly searching for a name on your contact list that can help. 
At this hour every member of the team that you know of will be busy watching over George and Carlos’ performance during practice to make some adjustments to their cars. Lewis will also be by their side with Charles on their Ferrari cars and Max will be stuck there too. Even Susie, who had originally planned to drive you to your house had to cancel at the last minute due to an emergency and shortened your list of contacts to call for help. 
“I need to think,” you murmur, looking through the window and receiving another blinding flash through the glass. 
“I can walk you out.” 
“I said I need to think,” you repeat yourself more sternly now and give the driver one last look before closing your eyes for a few seconds and hiding your face in your palms. 
A few minutes pass by only hearing the sounds of the cameras going off and many reporters asking you questions from outside. ‘How are you feeling now?’ ‘Are you still dating Max or you are now with Carlos?’ ‘Why aren’t you in the paddock right now?’ ‘Will Max join you tonight now that his practice was cut short?’ 
Wait. 
Max’s practice was cut short…why? 
Unlocking your phone rapidly, you search for Max’s contact but he gets to call you first, taking you by surprise the moment your device starts vibrating on your hand and his name pops up before you can find it on your list. 
“Yn? Are you already home?” You hear him speak rapidly. “I think something —.” 
“Are you okay, Emi?” You ask him worriedly, cutting him off without intending to. “What happened? Why aren’t you still practicing?” 
“Yn, are you in your house now?” 
“Why does that matter? What happened to you?” You persist, growing agitated by the second. The flashes have ceased but the questions come from all sides, making you feel increasingly uncomfortable in your seat. There are way too many people around you all talking simultaneously, which is irking you. “Please tell me you didn’t crash your car or something. Are you okay?” 
“Will you shut up and hear me for a second?” He replies as exasperated as you. “Someone from your own staff leaked your location to the media. Reporters are probably on their way to your house.” 
Looking through the window you sigh, dropping your gaze to your shoes. “They are already here.”
“What? Are you also there? Fuck,” he curses. “Listen, I’m already walking to the parking lot. I will be there as quickly as possible.” 
“It’s an hour and a half drive from the paddock,” the realization hits you and your hand flies to the door handle, gripping it tightly. This car is too small to keep you safe and the noise is too loud. You need to be elsewhere.“I need to get out of here.” 
“No, no, listen. I will be there and pick you up. We can move you somewhere else —.” 
“Shut up, Max, I need to leave this stupid car.” 
“You are gonna get ambushed if —.” 
You end the call and adjust your Mercedes cap on your head before opening the door and walking out without uttering a single word to your driver. 
You have to get into your house now. You need to be alone.
 
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Where could you possibly store all your anger? You’ve seen it so frequently in your house you’ve grown accustomed to it until your father left, but even then, you never truly felt it yourself prior to this moment. 
One quick look at your phone had you fuming with anger. 
You’ve tolerated the questions thrown your way once you joined. You justified their skepticism towards you from the beginning and tried to reason with the media respectfully, answering all their pertinent asks and attempting your best to ease down their worries about you by showing them great results in every race, but that wasn’t enough. 
Once they couldn’t criticize your skills, they moved to your appearance. They commented on your clothes, your make-up or lack thereof, your hair, your posture, your way of laughing a bit too loudly or not laughing at all when they joked at your expense. They simply said things towards you and for the most part you ignored them, sticking to answering the truly important questions and turning a blind eye to everything else but this was something you simply couldn’t brush off. 
They’ve launched a hate campaign to make you look like a complete fool and you weren’t even aware of it until now that you finally decided to stupidly look up your name on the internet. 
It was disheartening at first but then it enraged you. 
They camped outside of your house with their cameras ready and their voices intoned to ask you the dumbest, most unnecessary bits of information, and you felt utterly violated. 
Wasn’t your silence enough of a given to your state? You’ve hidden from them in plain sight, yet they refused to take the hint and leave you alone. They demanded everything from you: the perfect performance, the perfect reactions, and the perfect stories to tell, and now that you needed space to breathe and rest, they refused to give you that despite your attempts to give them everything they asked for since you started your career in F1.
You could never win when it came to the media. The ones who liked you were the fans but the reporters despised you and their words affected you. 
Your hands trembled holding the small device, the room momentarily being flashed by a red light. You couldn’t see past your anger at this very moment and the insistent noise of your bell going off in the background only served to push you towards the edge. 
You wanted to get back at them somehow. You were tired of pretending like winning was the biggest price you could hold against them. It never fulfilled you when you attempted to be the bigger person in the room; you could only understand so much, silence so many words, and push down your crawling anger until it finally surfaced for everybody to see. 
You were losing the fight.
“Fuck off!” You finally scream from the couch and jump from it the moment your words are answered by another impertinent ring. “I said, fuck off!” Your hands catch a lamp near you and throw it across the space, smashing it against the entrance. 
The porcelain flies everywhere, shattering into tiny and medium fragments, and the loud noise it produces has you flinching away, bringing back the normal colors around the room momentarily until your anger takes over once more, defeating your fear towards your own actions. 
Where can you put all this anger? 
You saw it before. You had heard the screams your father and mother shared at some point. You’ve seen firsthand how it affected your mom and how scary it could turn, but you were always in the position of defense. You received the short end of the anger your father carried yet never experienced it from his shoes. 
Maybe he stored his anger on your mother all these years while you stored all of yours on him during every fight. Maybe all it took was a bit of a push to see things from his perspective and discover that you shared the same short fuse. 
Breathing in and out heavily, the doorbell goes off once more, this time followed by a familiar voice screaming your name, and you shake your head letting the tears of shame fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks. 
You need to be alone. You have to be alone. 
It’s happening once more. You are so mad you cannot see past the impending issues. You feel small and helpless and so, you lash out, just like you used to when you were younger. 
You are seven once again, standing between your parents and threatening to inflict violence if the fight doesn’t stop in that instant. All you know is how to bite back once you are bitten. All you can do is fight anger with anger. 
“Yn, please, open the door. I promise they already left.” Max’s voice reaches you from the other side and you swallow the lump forming on your throat. “I’ve threatened to call the police.” 
Was that the solution? You question yourself internally. 
You’ve pushed many reporters away, knocking down some cameras in the process and never stopping to look back or apologize. You left your driver stranded in your car without saying goodbye. You ignored messages from Verstappen, and then you mistook his calls to your door with persistence from the media. 
This entire hour you thought you were surrounded and helpless. Suffocating on your grief until it morphed into anger but the cause of your rage had long been gone wasting energy on problems you couldn’t solve. 
“You promise they are gone?” The words spill without you intending to and you feel like hitting yourself for sounding so weak. “I mean —.” 
“I’m here, okay? I can stay outside until you are ready to let me in, but I promise they left and Lewis called me. They will be here as soon as possible, they just have to go through the interviews before leaving the paddock.” You reply with silence, unsure of what to do now. “Listen, if you don’t want me here, I understand, but when your friends come over, open the door, okay? They are worried about you.” 
“I always make them worry.” You mutter to yourself and take one hesitant step towards the door. “I made a mess here.” Announcing this, you take another step. 
“I can clean it before they arrive,” he suggests and you breathe out slowly, carefully stepping over some of the shattered yards with your shoes, breaking them even more. “If you let me.” 
“This is embarrassing,” you wrap your fingers around the doorknob, twisting it and opening the door for him, dragging some of the broken pieces underneath and Max breathes out in relief, seeing you unharmed and more or less in the same physical state you left the paddock earlier. 
You move to the side, allowing him to come in and he waltzes into the receiving room, finding everything intact besides the one thing you broke, which helps him feel more relaxed. 
He had reached you in time. 
“There is nothing embarrassing about this,” he comments and kneels down to pick a big fragment of the lamp. 
“I’m not supposed to lose my cool.” 
“Why not? Is it illegal to feel angry?” He attempts to joke and you swallow harshly, wiping away harshly a tear that rolls down your eye. “I’ve lashed out multiple times in the past. I’m not proud of my reactions but for the most part, my anger was provoked by the media, but what you went through right now…? Fuck, I don’t know if I would have thrown something to the door only. I’d have fought them all on the spot.” 
Another tear escapes and you hide your face in your palms, remaining quiet. Max turns around, finally seeing you and he instinctively walks toward you, stepping on the yards and causing quite a mess on your floor until he is mere centimeters away from your shaking frame. 
“I shouldn’t be reacting this way,” you sob and feel his arms wrap around you hesitantly until you also cave in, returning his hug and nuzzling your face on his chest still covered by his suit. “I don’t want to be like him.”
“In what way, dear?” Max whispers close to your ear and his warm breath tickles your skin. He actively chooses to ignore your last statement, quite sure that you are referencing your father but not exactly certain that this is the correct moment to discuss what you have implied nor of him being the person you should openly talk about this with. “You were hurt. They are pressing all your buttons because they know you will react badly. They want that.” 
“I’m doing things just like…” you stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “I’m just so angry.” 
“I understand.” 
He isn’t lying when he says that. Although you only express yourself between little moments of sincerity, he can piece all the few moments together to understand you fully. 
He knows what you mean. He’s been through that as well. Nobody granted him kindness or the opportunity to redeem himself after he committed many mistakes in front of everybody. 
Nobody stopped him when rage infected his mind and his common sense disappeared. Nobody offered him the grace of fixing things properly within himself and with others, but you did. You attempted to understand his position given the limited knowledge that you had and that made it easier for him to understand you now as well. 
He believed he knew what you meant when you admitted to be angry. And he was also certain he could understand the many yards across the entrance, reflecting on your troubled feelings and saturated mind. 
You were at the tip of instability, swinging between a fragile calmness and total chaos. 
He suffered from that as well for many years yet until this very moment he could see it with his own eyes that you were going through it too. 
You feigned stability and control, gracefully dodging the bullets others shot at you, but in reality, you were running after them once everybody left. Hurting yourself over the things you couldn’t control, looking for the guns that attempted to shoot you and pulling the trigger once more. 
“I am angry too,” Max admits and tightens the grip around your body. “I understand.” 
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to clean the mess I made.” You opt to divert the conversation elsewhere and Max carries on, respecting your decision.
“Well, I don’t think it’s fair for you to suffer through this alone so let me help, will you?” Your grip loosens around his torso, signaling the end of your spontaneous hug and as you separate from each other, Max looks at the little mess you’ve caused. “I will pick up the pieces. You can get us something to drink. Maybe then we can talk, if you want.” 
“Would you like some tea?” Your big eyes observe him timidly. The pinkish hue of your cheeks and the tip of your nose pales in comparison to the darkness of your eye bags. You look exhausted. 
“Tea would be lovely. Thank you.” 
He hates tea, but this isn’t a moment to remind you of that simple fact. 
“And…” You trail off, looking elsewhere for a fraction of a second. “What if I don’t want to talk?”
“We can stay in silence or rest a bit before your friends come,” Max suggests. “Do you want that?” 
“Yes, please.” 
He nods, putting an end to the conversation and you move away from the scene, carefully avoiding the yards close to you while Max searches everywhere for the correct point to begin his cleaning duties. 
Maybe two minutes pass by in total silence before the dutch man hears your voice again, softly coming from the oval entrance to the kitchen. 
“Emi?” He nearly misses the name you imply to call for him and in that moment, he notices you’ve called him that before as well. 
“Yes, dear?” Max replies stopping his movements. 
“Thank you.” 
Max Emilian smiles, basking on the sweet smile you return to him as soon as your eyes meet each other. 
He’s relieved to be here, secretly thanking his car for failing so unexpectedly during practice.
“Nothing to thank me for. I’m here whenever you need me.”
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A / N : After many many days of not posting i'm back here hello! Sorry for the delay, I got sick and was put on bed rest for the past four days so it was difficult for me to write. I hope you enjoy this angsty chapter with some sprinkles of fluff! Let me know your thoughts and see you on the next update <3 — The next update comes with a voting poll for the dynamic of the final chapter of the second act, so stay tuned to participate! xoxo
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cutielando · 2 days
Note
so I just saw the sleep token themed smau you did and it gave me an idea: reader is the daughter of a big new wave rockstar from the 80s (like someone from INXS or Duran Duran), and she’s started dating a driver (Alex or Mick) and now there’s a whole generation of fans who are like ‘her dad is who??? in what band???’
I just thought it could be neat, seeing two of my special interests merge like that lmao god I love the eighties-
a/n: this is so cute !! 🥹 hope you like it!!!❤️
social media au
synopsis: the request 🌸❤️
my masterlist
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y/n.rhodes Thank you mercedesamgf1 for having me!❤️ Such a fun weekend!!
view all 392,185 comments
mercedesamgf1 It was a pleasure having you with us for the weekend!❤️
user1 UMMMM????
user2 since when does she go to races?
landonorris such a shame you didn’t wear the papaya shirt i gave you
y/n.rhodes next time, i promise !!!!
landonorris hmmm, okay. mclaren do your thing
mclaren On it! 🫡
lilymhe you’re gorgeous babe 😍😍
y/n.rhodes have you seen yourself???😭❤️
alex_albon please don’t flirt with my girlfriend
y/n.rhodes you can’t stop us now. she’s OUR girlfriend
lilymhe sorry babe
alex_albon ???
zendaya i miss you girl !!!
y/n.rhodes i miss you too !!!!
user3 she is such an icon
user4 we should be grateful to be living in the same era as her
user3 for realllll
user4 i wanna be her so badly😭😭
lewishamilton it was a pleasure meeting you🥂
y/n.rhodes likewise, Sir Hamilton 😮‍💨
lewishamilton i told you not to call me that
y/n.rhodes i must have not heard you, loud garage you see
mickschumacher had a lovely time!❤️
y/n.rhodes so did i❤️
iMessage
sir lewis
hey y/n
y/n
hello sir hamilton
sir lewis
😐woman
y/n
okay sorry sorry
what’s up
sir lewis
what’s the deal with you and Mick?
y/n
what do you mean?
sir lewis
all the flirting in the garage
the comments
what’s going on?
do you have a crush?😉😉😉
y/n
we’re just friends
nothing is going on
sir lewis
are you sure?😌😌
y/n
yes lol
sir lewis
i don’t believe you, but okayyyy
y/n🩵
lewis is onto us
mickie🩵
what?
how?
y/n🩵
unmmm
the comment?????
maybe because we flirted in the garage?
he’s convinced we have crushes on each other
mickie🩵
fuck
what do you want to do?
y/n🩵
i mean
we can just go with the flow
just show up together and that would be it
mickie🩵
are you sure?
we don’t have to
y/n🩵
it’s okay, i wanna
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mickschumacher great weekend, time to recharge
view all 89,143 comments
mercedesamgf1 Hope you enjoy your time off ;)
mickschumacher thank you admin :))
georgerussell63 very nice pictures, mate
mickschumacher thank you, i have a talented photographer
georgerussell63 i'm sure you do ;)
estebanocon you went on holiday without me? :(
mickschumacher i had to :( i didn't have a choice
estebanocon you always have a choice
mickschumacher no, he doesn't - the missus
estebanocon sorry ma'am, i take it back
user1 Mick having a girlfriend was not on my bingo card for this year
user2 I need to know who his girlfriend is like YESTERDAY
user3 I might know who she is
user4 BESTIE???????? SPILL
user3 I might be completely wrong and off-track but I believe it might be Y/N Rhodes
user3 isn't she the girl who visited the garage a couple of weeks back?
user4 Yes. She's the daughter of Nick Rhodes, a member of the band Duran Duran
user5 MICK BAGGED A GIRL???
y/n.rhodes those are some very nice pictures, mr. schumacher
mickschumacher i have a very good photographer who took them for me
y/n.rhodes you'll have to introduce them to me, they seem very good at what they do
user5 I wanna be on vacation with him too :(((
user6 NOBODY MOVE, MICKIE HAS A GF
user7 this explains his impressive drive a couple of weeks back
lewishamilton interesting turn of events
mickschumacher i don't know what you're talking about
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y/n.rhodes i like the view tagged: mickschumacher
view all 602,185 comments
lewishamilton I KNEW IT
y/n.rhodes nostradamus, congratulations
lewishamilton don't mock your seniors
mickschumacher 🩵
y/n.rhodes 🩵
mercedesamgf1 Thank you Y/N for being our lucky charm from here on out! 🩵
y/n.rhodes always a pleasure 🩵🩵
user1 MICK AND Y/N?????
user2 this took me completely by surprise
user3 I TOLD YOU GUYS I KNEW IT
estebanocon finally
mickschumacher :)
y/n.rhodes thank you for keeping quiet, estie bestie
estebanocon i told you not to call me that
y/n.rhodes sucks to suck
user4 Y/N seems like such a menace and I'm here for it
user5 mickschumacher did you meet Nick?
mickschumacher i did
user6 HOW WAS IT?????
mickschumacher intimidating, but we get along great
y/n.rhodes my dad loves him, he's a sucker for blondes
user7 DAMN Y/N
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vorthosjay · 17 hours
Note
Hi Jay. Not wanting to sound mean, but I really think it must be commented and that there's no softer way of doing that: the company's statement of Thunder Junction being an inhabitated plane prior to MoM is not a honest way of capitalizing on a sellable trope without touching its uncomfortable issues. It's even disrespectful. They have done it in a less flagrant way with Kaladesh and both Ixalan iterations, but now they've gotten too far with Thunder Junction. Colonialism is too big an issue to simply being put under the carpet as it never existed and we could just enjoy the sunny part of the history. I really hope Hasbro as a company acknowledges this and changes its way of dealing with the theme. Thanks for letting me pointing this.
Look, you caught me on a bad day, so I'm going to be as polite as possible but let's start with the foundation that this is not a complaint to direct at me. I have no control over any of this. Mark Rosewater exists and takes feedback on Tumblr.
But, let's talk about it, because I've seen some folks take this to extremes.
First off, I've seen a lot of well meaning folks speaking up on behalf of hypothetical indigenous americans, but I'd love to get takes from folks this actually impacts. I'd love for Wizards to post something about their work with cultural consultants, for sure. But the only actual thing I've seen so far is a great story from Magic's first indigenous american author. And when you're speaking on someone else's behalf, you tend to miss things. Like, Kaladesh is not the great representation of south asian culture that you might think when you jumped to it, and it's okay if you didn't know that, but it sort of proves the point that it's very difficult to actually protest on someone else's behalf. And I just haven't heard from anyone who has also mentioned they speak from authority or are impacted by this. That doesn't mean you're wrong, necessarily.
But here's the thing. Thunder Junction isn't history. It takes cues from the American West, sure, but it's a fake world. And sometimes it's okay for a fake world to ignore the bad things that happens in real life and create something more aspirational. Magic does this all the time. Magic doesn't have homophobia, but that isn't really realistic or representative of the real world, is it?
No one, and I mean literally no one, came to me and said that people of color needed to be ostracized and not allowed to work alongside the white people in the demon mob families of New Capenna. That racism was real, it was systemic, and it was violent. But did it need to be tackled in a fantasy crime drama based on america in the 20s? Should it have been? I don't think anyone would have enjoyed it as much. Sometimes it's just fun to play gangster.
Similarly, the colonization and manifest destiny that was the reality of the American West was tragic, but does that need to be our only depiction of indigenous peoples - being colonized? If they were erased completely from the narrative, that would be awful, but can't they just have fun being cool thunder slingers? The Atiin were developed with a consultant, and if you want answers ask Wizards to talk about it.
There's a reason the Oltec were depicted as being sealed off from the Immortal Sun drama that had happened on the surface. To have an aspirational mesoamerican culture that wasn't affected by the Dusk Legion and Azor and all that.
To put it in another perspective, does every period piece featuring black americans need to feature systemic racism to be respectful? Is Bridgerton disrespectful (I mean probably but not for that reason)?
The reason I've framed a lot of this as questions is because I don't necessarily think I know the right answer, especially not for a fantasy card game. I've worked with tribal governments in my emergency management career and spent a week on the Navajo Nation, and talked a lot about perspective on things, and I would not presume to know what the right answer to all of this is.
Edit: to be clear, Could it have been handled better? Probably. I will never deny that. But also it’s a complicated and fraught topic and I’d love to hear from the people wizards contracted who actually know what they’re talking about.
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ladykailitha · 2 days
Text
The Harrington Pattern Part 13
This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.
This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.
Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12
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Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.
“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”
“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.
Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.
“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.
Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”
Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.
“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”
Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”
Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”
Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.
“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”
She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”
Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”
Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”
She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”
Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.
On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.
“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”
She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.
Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.
“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.
“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”
Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”
“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”
Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”
Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”
“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”
Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.
“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”
Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.
They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.
“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”
Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”
Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”
“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”
Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.
“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.
Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”
Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?
Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”
Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.
In short, Steve hated her on sight.
Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.
Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”
Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”
Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”
Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”
He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.
He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.
“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.
Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.
Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”
“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”
Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.
Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.
About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.
“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”
Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.
“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”
Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”
“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”
Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.
“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”
“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”
Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”
Karen nodded.
“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.
Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.
It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.
“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.
Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”
The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.
“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.
Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.
“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”
Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”
“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.
Then there came a loud honk.
Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”
He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.
He slid into the front seat.
“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.
“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”
Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”
Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.
Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.
And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.
“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.
Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.
Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.
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catherinnn · 2 days
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Fears and Futures
summary: After hearing Steve's comments about a friend's unexpected pregnancy, you become fearful of your own uncertain future and start questioning the meaning and depth of your relationship with Eddie.
warnings: language, unexpected pregnancy (not reader), not actual smut talks about sex, talks about unprotected sex, a little angst but fluff overall, hurt/comfort.
words: 1.1k
a/n: a little something just cause I felt like writing and I wanted a little drama. not proofread cause I was tired :)
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He opens his door for you and you start feeling nervous. After he lets you in, you see he’s trying to greet you with a kiss, one which you stop before his lips touch yours.
He takes a step back and you see his face, filled with worry and fear.
“Eds, I came here to talk” you explain.
And now his face falls, he realized what you meant.
--
You’re currently at Steve’s house, hanging out with him Robin and Eddie.
“Hey, do you remember Rebeca Evans?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, she was a senior with Eddie and me” you answer.
“The first time I was a senior” Eddie jokes.
You and Eddie had been friends since high school —it’s safe to say you’re best friends actually—, it took Eddie a couple more tries to finish high school but he finally did it. ’86 baby! Now you’re studying and he started working as a mechanic.
A year ago you started some kind of… arrangement between you two, a friends with benefits kind of arrangement. It all started on a drunken night at a party and then you kept it going not only on drunken nights, but on your sober nights, or at any time for that matter.
“She’s pregnant” Steve announced, and then he complains when you say he’s the most gossipy of the group.
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, she went on a few dates with this guy but they didn’t really hit it off, but they kept hooking up a few times either way, and then it just happened”
“It didn’t just happened, Steve. Were they being safe?” Robin corrects him.
“She said they were, but the condom must have broken or something. Apparently they don’t provide 100% safety” he explained.
“God, she’s my age… and wasn’t she studying as well? She wasn’t working yet” you ask him.
“Yep, she was still studying. Imagine if it happened to you now, it would change your whole life” Steve comments.
“Yeah…” you start thinking how it would affect you, how much of an impact it would make on your life.
And suddenly you can’t stop thinking about it, fearing it. You’re not ready to have kids! But neither was Rebeca and then one day she woke up and she was.
The only person you’re having relationships with is Eddie, and similarly like Rebeca, you’re not in a relationship with him.
You don’t even really know if you want kids or not, but if you’d have them you’d imagine it at least be with someone you’re in love with.
Actually, let me paraphrase that.
At least it would be with someone you’re in a serious relationship with.
Because you do really like Eddie, but you know he doesn’t feel that way. So this arrangement was fine because of that, you know nothing more would ever happen so you’re not expecting it from him.
So for a few days you have been… you wouldn’t say ignoring him, but re-thinking some aspects of this arrangement… without answering his calls.
“Hey, Robs?” you pick up the phone.
“Fucking finally. Oh so you do pick up the phone to Robin?” You hear Eddie’s voice.
“Fuck- no, I was just waiting for her call. But I was gonna call you later” you lie- well, a few days can also mean ‘later.’
“Whatever, do you wanna come over?” he asks and you realize you are going to have to do this eventually.
“Yeah, sure”
When he opens his door for you, you start feeling nervous. After he lets you in you see he’s trying to greet you with a kiss, one which you stop before his lips touch yours.
He takes a step back and you see his face, filled with worry and fear.
“Eds, I came here to talk” you explain.
And now his face falls, he realized what you meant.
“Okay” he says either way.
“I’ve been- thinking a lot about this… Rebeca’s situation-“
“Oh, come on” he interrupts, “when Steve said it was similar to you it didn’t mean it was going to happen to you as well”
“But it could! Eddie, I’m also studying to become somebody, I’m also not working and with no intention on starting to soon, I’m also just twenty years old with no idea of what I want for my future, but I sure as hell don’t want a baby now. And it’s not like we’re being very careful, Eddie. For God’s sake, they were using a condom and it broke or just didn’t work, we’re not even doing that!” you explain.
“Okay, we can just be more careful, but we don’t have to stop all of this”
“That’s the other thing… she was also just hooking up with someone and now they’re bounded forever. She didn’t even like him that much and now she has a fucking kid with him!” you tell him and Eddie stays silent for a while, thinking of what you said.
“…Do you also feel that way?” he asks nervously.
“What?” you ask confused of what he means.
“Do you also… don’t even know if you like him?” he asks with a straight face this time, waiting for your answer.
“That’s not what I said”
“Okay, I’m asking you now” he kept insisting.
“Do you even feel that way?” you kept dodging his question. You weren’t going to admit to him that you liked him just for him to reject you.
He sighed, tired of this. “I fucking like you- I’m actually fucking crazy about you if I’m being honest. That’s why I’m trying to not break this whole thing up because it’s the only way I’m able to have you, even if it’s just sex and it shouldn’t mean anything”
“Are you- being serious?” you ask sceptical.
“Yes” he admits one more time.
It’s your time to sigh in frustration now, head back and everything. But because you can’t believe how stupid the two of you could be.
You run to him without saying a word and you see the confusion on his face, but you quickly grab it and pull him closer to finally give him that kiss. Only it’s with a passion and love that the first one wouldn’t have had, or maybe it would be hidden.
He kisses you back grabbing you by your waits and pulling you even closer.  
Pulling apart slightly, you look into Eddie's eyes where you find warmth, relief, and an unmistakable spark of love.
"I guess we've been idiots, huh?" you say, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, we have" Eddie replies with a small laugh, his eyes still locked onto yours.
“I’ll start taking the pill from now on” you can finally decide since now it’s no longer meaningless.
He smiles, leaning in to give you another lingering kiss, “Yeah, that’d be great”, he whispers against your lips.
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wandasfifthwife · 2 days
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(5) my hands are cold, warm them? | competing series
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hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex ice skater reader
tw: fluffy cheesy skating fun, suggestive content throughout chapter but NO smut (it’s suggested though), slight make out at the end, oral (giving head) mentioned, reference to r’s past injury
a/n: LAST CHAPTER ON MAIN STORY!! not edited/proofread. I finished this half asleep so I’m sorry if the end is shitty af
You tell her that you’re fine again to try and ease the tension on Wanda’s face. She’s standing over you, miserably failing at taming her overprotective tendencies.
A week ago you asked her to skate with you. She looked just as concerned then as she does now.
You finish the last ties on your skates. She helps you stand, her hands hovering near you while you test out the tightness of your skates.
“How long has it been since you’ve last worn them?”
“Since Christmas a year ago,” you lean down to pull the left strings tighter, “I went skating with my brother’s family.”
“Might be why they look like they’re cutting off circulation.”
You shoot her a look, facing her as you step onto the ice. She crosses the ice with ease, reaching a hand out to pull you into her. Her body eases at the sound of your laugh echoing through the rink.
“Please be careful,” she says when you pull away from her warmth.
“I’m not going to do anything my pt’s advised me not to.”
You simply skate around. No thoughts running through your mind as you circle the rink. Wanda gives you time to decompress, finding herself at the opposite end until she finds you looking towards her.
“I want to race you,” you stop and she almost runs into your back.
“Baby,” she wraps her arms around your waist and lifts you with ease, “why? It wouldn’t even be a race.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d loose.”
You push at her arms, begging her to put you down, “I want to try.”
She sets you down once you’ve reached the edge of the rink. You pull a dramatic pout at her serious expression. Your hand brushes her cheek, bringing her face close to press a quick kiss to her chapped lips.
“Don’t worry, I know my limits. This is just for fun.”
“Who said it’ll only be for fun?”
You smile against her cheek, “trying to place a bet?”
“What should the winner get?”
“Oral.”
She laughs, wiggling out of your tighter hold. You grow shy after your claim, but it’s the first thing that came to mind. She counts down, each callout feeding into your nerves. She barely reaches one and you both have the same idea to push off early.
It wasn’t close. Wanda touching the other side while you were making your way past the halfway mark. She’s barely out of breath waiting at the end for you.
“I’m sure you would’ve won if you didn’t have to listen to your pt.”
“Definitely,” you hold her hand, changing the conversation quickly, “show me how hockey players pass a puck.”
It was to avoid bringing up the embarrassment earlier. She falls easily, getting off the ice to grab what’s needed to show you. The time passes by quickly, she kicks the puck onto the ice. It skids, sliding until it stops near you.
“See the tape wrapped around the bottom,” she asks, continuing when you hum, “that’s where you want to aim the puck into.”
She taps it, giving an example of what she means. The stick is then handed over to you. The wood felt awkward in your hands as you angled it. She presses chest into your back, setting her hands onto yours.
“You’re angling it out too far,” her breath hits your neck as she speaks, “jut the blade out flat with the ice.”
When she’s satisfied with your posture she’s stepping back to let you hit. You knock it to the left, it spinning and hitting against the wall. You turn, finding her on her knees with tears in her eyes.
“I tried.”
“What did you just do,” she wheezes out.
“I tried to hit it,” you grow mildly frustrated, “fine, let’s see you try a basic spin.”
She sobers up during your explanation, making a few comments on how the sport doesn’t make sense to her. It was your turn to laugh at her stiff attempts, one even landing her on the ground.
The small competitions turned into genuine interest in each other’s sport. She had more success than you, eventually landing a solid turn after many, many tries.
You weren’t able to complete half of her skills, limited by the movement your ankle can handle. She still showed you, patience lined in her words and action with each question you had, and vise versa.
It was when your ankle got tired—the ache growing—when you spoke your concern to her. She had no need to, but she carried you off the rink, proceeding to take your skates off herself.
“I’m impressed by that last turn of yours,” you giggle at her finger touching the underside of your foot, “could become a pro with that move.”
“Hey, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Hear what, that you’re not a scary hockey player?”
“You think hockey players are intimidating?”
“All of them excluding you.”
Her fingers are grabbing at your thighs and pulling you to hang off of the end of the bleacher, “that’s not what your actions said last night.”
The second you feel her leg press against you, you’re rolling your eyes and pushing her off. Taking the strings from her hands you finish undoing the knots yourself.
“I’m glad we did this,” you start, watching her undo her own knots, “thank you for asking them if we could use the space by ourselves.”
Her response is placing a sweet kiss to your forehead.
─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ───
“That’s so stupid,” you throw your hand at the screen, “why’s that a foul?”
“Малы́шка, that wasn’t a foul.”
“Oh,” you snuggled back into her chest more. She had a hand running down your back, eyes glued on the screen. You learned more about her each day, one of those being that she took games seriously.
She was rushing when you got back, her nerves obvious in how she flung in and out of the shower. You on the other hand took your time not wishing to upset your ankle any further.
She held her arms out when she noticed you walk into the living room, inviting you to practically lay on top of her.
Her nails brushed past a particularly sensitive spot on your back, goosebumps littering your body from the action.
“Why’d they put him in the box?”
“Because he tried to punch our players.”
Correction. You’ve learned a lot about Wanda since you’ve started dating her. Something that she took seriously was you.
It was growing increasingly difficult keeping her focus on the tv. Your fresh smell from your shampoo had her breathing begin to grow heavier.
You were unsuspecting to how she had begun to slide her hand under your shirt, her mouth bitting at the skin on your neck. The tv was her focus still, the announcer being what she focused on and definitely not how she caught onto each gasp you let out.
The game had five minutes left. Wanda’s attention would snap into focus whenever the scores began to come close, but a majority of those five minutes were spent with her hands running along your thighs. A majority of those five minutes were spent with her creating dark marks on your neck to hear your pretty responses.
You moaned her name and the last thirty seconds of the game were forgotten. She pulled you under her, hands bringing yours to intertwine together behind her head. She kissed you dizzy. Each time you pulled back for air she was tilting her head and pulling you back into her.
“Remember our little bet?”
You pull at her hair, your confirmation coming out as a whine after she pulls your hips down onto her thigh. The tv sounds in the background, going over the top plays from the game while she works you up to release on her tongue.
─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ───
The tv lights up the room. A flurry of colors from random ads is the only source of light you have when you wake up. Wanda was asleep beside you, facing the wall. You had to remind yourself at times that her apartment wasn’t yours because of how at home you felt.
A rush of emotions filled you, catching you off guard, and yet they were welcomed. You turned to cuddle Wanda, pushing your face into her neck. It was incredibly early, your clock’s flashing blue light showing it was 4:03AM. Wanda stirs, a sleepy hand finding the hand you had on her hip.
“You okay?”
You peruse your lips to just brush on the spot under the ear, “‘m good.”
“Okay, love you.”
She should and shouldn’t have said those two little words. She meant it, which is why she said it, but the reaction you had was expected.
“I love you,” you tear up, pressing closer to her, “don’t leave.”
She turns to face you, eyes half shut, showing how tired she was but she still made an effort. Her fingers brush under your blanket to hold your hands, “I’m not leaving.”
You had nights spent similarly to this. Four AM conversations about her struggles, your relationship with your mother, and the occasional light hearted conversations that had you both giggling like maniacs. The night tonight felt special, intimate. Your nightmares fell far away whenever you woke up to her body laid beside you, soft voice talking through any fear you had.
She presses a kiss onto your head, “not leaving now or tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
She mumbles into your hair, her words growing unintelligible as she drifts back off again, but the one thing you heard over and over again was the word love.
You reach up to kiss the top of her head this time, whispering, “I love you too, so much.”
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in love with the mess - day nine
summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?
content : smut (p in v, dirty talk), angst, drinking, fluff
length : 6.5k
tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens
a/n : Here's to hoping this is not as shit as my brain keeps trying to convince me it is. Also apologies to @veronicaphoenix​, maybe do some of the meditation you mentioned in your last comments before reading 😅
•••
day nine
I woke up with a headache, Oli’s arms around me and… a tongue on my cheek? It certainly had me more awake than my alarm did. With utter confusion, I pulled away, only to see Oli licking his lips. When my hand traced my cheek I felt something sticky that definitely wasn’t just his saliva.
“We forgot about the chocolate,” he laughed. “Looks like one of them melted and got stuck to your cheek.”
“And obviously your first idea was to lick it off me.”
“What can I say, I like to get my tongue on you.”
“Fucking hell,” I complained, but he knew I didn’t mean it. I still ended up pushing him off as he tried to reach for my cheek again. “Time to get up, Liverpool’s waiting.”
I didn’t want to look in the mirror. I could feel my swollen eyes, remnants of yesterday’s crying session. But it was no use. As soon as Oli left for his own room, I ventured into the bathroom, assessing the damage and trying to control it as much as possible with make-up. No one needed to see that far into my private life just from the state of my face.
I didn’t allow myself to linger, though. Getting ready, packing my things, shoving my suitcase into the trailer, catching a few more breaths of fresh air before bus call. It would have to do.
Noah was leaning against the wall next to the entrance of the hotel, sunglasses on even in the low light, scrolling his phone, looking bored out of his mind. I’d almost managed to forget last night’s text. The turmoil they’d added to my already existent worries. But it came crashing back now, with a single look at him.
Only, when I approached him, he seemed to pretend nothing at all had happened.
“I’m a bit fragile today,” he groaned, giving me a brief hug and a smile. It bothered me that I couldn’t see his eyes. And that he wasn’t acting differently at all. As if I hadn’t brushed him off yesterday.
“Are we seriously not going to talk about those texts?” I asked, more harshly than I meant to.
Noah looked nothing short of surprised. “Texts?”
“Do you… do you seriously not remember texting me last night? Fucking hell, Noah, how much did you have to drink?”
He sheepishly unlocked his phone again, scrolling through our conversation, the realisation dawning on his face. It quickly turned into what I could only describe as regret. “Fuck, it was… I definitely had some drinks.”
I craved being angry. I craved pushing him away, physically too, yelling at him for the emotional chaos he kept putting me through, but there was no fight left in me that morning. Not after last night, after I’d cried my eyes out to Oli, a resounding headache proof of it.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I sighed, resigned. I put a hand up to my forehead, pressing against the pounding that seemed to increase my the minute. “You can’t say you only want fun and then turn around and do things like these. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to any of us.”
Noah was reaching for me. I found myself taking a step back, but his hand still touched my arm and I let him. As I always let him.
“Aubrey…”
He didn’t get to say whatever was on his mind. A shy voice appeared out of nowhere - not really out of nowhere, but my focus had been entirely on the man in front of me - asking if Noah had a moment for a picture. His whole demeanour changed in an instant, my Noah was buried under Noah Sebastian from Bad Omens, happily agreeing but making sure the fan knew he had to leave for the bus soon. They’d snapped a photo or two when I noticed that her eyes were moving back and forth between the two of us.
“I probably shouldn’t ask,” she admitted, rushing her words. “But are you two together? I saw a picture online where you were holding hands and I just wanted to say that you look so cute together and I promise I won’t tell anyone if you tell me!”
Out of all the things I could have possibly expected, this wasn’t one of them. Noah and I? A picture? My brain rattled. Someone must have spotted us in Newcastle when I took him shopping. Where he indeed held my hand. And now there was a photo, possibly all over the internet, causing rumours of all sorts. I looked toward Noah, trying to hide my emerging panic. He knew I needed him to take the lead.
“Aubrey works with Oli actually,” he explained, putting his hand around my shoulders and pulling me close, which felt rather unnecessary in the situation. “We like to hang out. But thank you.”
It felt like a cop-out. He hadn’t outright told her that we weren’t a couple. But he also hadn’t said that we were. Somehow, I wished he had been more adamant into one direction. Either of them. Just to hear him take a clear stand, for once.
The situation was interrupted by someone calling my name now, someone from our crew letting me now it was time to get on the bus within the next five minutes. I gave him a nod. Noah was saying goodbye to the fan, waiting for her to be a certain distance from us, before putting his attention back on me.
“Aubrey…” he started once again.
“I’ll have to get on the bus. I’ll see you when we’re in Liverpool.”
I didn’t leave immediately. At least not until Noah gave me a sad nod and removed his arm from my body. It felt all wrong.
•••
All I wanted to do was call Lia. But knowing her schedule, she was in the middle of work. Plus, there was currently no place on the bus that gave me any sort of privacy and it definitely wasn’t going to be a conversation I needed anyone to overhear. Oli, on the other hand, very much was on the phone, waving everyone away who came close enough to potentially overhear. I ventured into the little lounge at the back of the bus instead. Lee and Mat were, once again hooked to the playstation. I wondered how bands had ever survived before tour busses offered consoles.
“Hey, stranger,” Mat smiled, beckoning me to come in and patting the seat next to him. “Long time no see.”
It was true. On tours we’d been on before, I’d almost become a staple to the group. Most of the time, if only what I thought was by association to Oli, I ended up hanging out with them more than the crew. But this tour had taken me for a toll. Not only had I been spending out with just Oli a lot more, Noah had also appeared in the picture and monopolised the time I usually spend with the rest of the band. I felt a little awkward, now, dropping myself onto the couch next to Mat, but he seemed to pay no mind to it.
I watched as they played, both Mat and Lee attempting to make a little small talk, but both of them also much too invested in winning their round to concentrate much on anything else.
“Fuck that, I’m getting some beer,” Lee announced, getting up and throwing his controller my way.
“Bit early?”
“We’re on tour, Aubrey, time doesn’t mean anything. Now take over for me and kick Mat’s arse, he’s been fucking annoying.”
I didn’t wait to be told twice, motioning for Mat to start another round. We both knew I barely had a chance against him - as much as I enjoyed the occasional game, he had insane amounts of practice on me. The only thing I’d ever beating him in was Mario Kart. I hadn’t let him live that one down yet.
“You’re keeping Oli on his toes, you know?”
I kept myself from turning toward him, questioningly staring at the screen instead, where I desperately tried to keep myself alive.
“Pretty much it’s the other way. I am working for him and he makes sure I don’t forget that.”
Mat chuckled next to me, “He has you running around a lot, hasn’t he? You’re also running around in his mind though.”
“Mat, that’s fucking cheesy,” I replied, so aghast that I looked away from the screen for a second to long. He didn’t waste any time finishing my character off. Putting his hands in the air with a noise of success, I stole the main controller away from him and made quick work of changing the game to Mario Kart.
“Not a lie though,” he laughed, letting me pick my one gaming strength without complaints. “He does care, you know.”
“He can be a fucking dickhead,” I replied, chucking the controller back to him and choosing a character with my own.
I mentally moved the pictures of him holding me and listening to my worries just the night before away. Instead, I forced myself to think about his teasing, about how non-committal he was, about how he never really seemed to speak his mind. Even when I talked to him and Noah at the pub that night, he simply agreed with whatever the other man had suggested and made a joke out of it. I hadn’t forgotten that.
“He’s trying,” Mat sighed. The countdown was on the screen now, briefly capturing our attention as we tried to get the perfect start. “I’m not sure if it’s showing, but he is. And he can’t fucking stop talking about you. The guys and I have considered making you a banned topic when we’re together.”
The blush rose up on my cheeks. I was well aware that many of my waking hours were spent thinking about Oli or Noah or both of them. Somehow, it hadn’t quite crossed my mind that it would be the same for them. The fact that I was occupying his brain even when I wasn’t around left a giddiness in me that I harshly chased away.
“I don’t know if trying is good enough,” I admitted, throwing another shell that hit Mat dead on behind me. “I’m not here to fix him or make him better.”
“You’re already doing that, just by existing.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever heard Mat talk like that. I didn’t want to linger on it, instead making quick work of crossing the finishing line with just a minor lead. Mat grumbled something about needing a beer, too, and how he kept getting tricked into playing Mario Kart with him as if he hadn’t willingly participated. He was almost out the door, when he turned around.
“By the way, what the fuck is going on with him and Noah?”
I bit back the smile. “I have no fucking clue.”
It wasn’t even a lie.
•••
Oli was a bundle of energy. We’d successfully checked in and made our way to the venue right next to the hotel, but no one was ready for soundcheck yet, so Oli was bouncing off the walls in between a few interviews, journalists coming and going as I sent him this room and that place to get it all done in time. It included reminded both him and the interviewers of the end of their allotted time when Oli simply wouldn’t stop talking.
“Coffee run?” Oli asked as we finally had a few minutes after the last interview. Bad Omens were busy soundchecking, leaving Bring Me with the later slot.
“Are you insane? The last thing you need is more caffeine.”
“At least get me some chips then. Being near the water makes me hungry.”
“How the fuck did you just change your mind from coffee to chips,” I asked, but I was already gathering my things to leave and figure out where to get what Oli desired.
“Don’t question the genius.”
“Alight, get your genius arse somewhere useful then until I’m back,” I scoffed as I left.
Luckily, my phone directed me quite easily to the nearest chip shop only a few minutes away on the dock. I made the best of the time and finally dialled Lia’s number, praying she’d be at her regularly scheduled break and available.
“What can I do for the number two angel in my life?” she greeted me enthusiastically.
“Only number two?” I tried to joke, but the words almost got caught in my throat. Just hearing her voice and feeling her love through the phone was enough to get me teary-eyed again.
“Oh, Aubrey, talk to me.”
She could always see through me so easily. It was eerie at times, but I’d grown so accustomed to putting on a poker face for so many people of my life that it felt rather freeing that I couldn’t even try to pretend in front of her.
“I’m in love,” it blubbered out of me before I could stop it. I dodged a few people who looked like they were heading to the gig tonight, keeping my head down just in case anyone would somehow recognise me. At least when I was on the verge of crying.
“And that is a bad thing?”
“Yes!” I almost shouted, briefly forgetting about my plan not to draw any attention to myself. “It is horrible. Because I’m in love with two fucking men who both told me they only want some fun.”
I wasn’t sure how long it took to fill her in with the happenings of the past days. Manchester already seemed like a lifetime ago with how much had gone down in the meantime. Lia was as quiet as she could be as the person that she was, which said a lot really, and I appreciated it. I simply needed to get it all out in one go before the nerve left me.
She stayed quiet for a little bit after that and I let her. I had long found the takeaway I’d been heading to, pacing back and forth in front of it, unable to keep still until I heard her judgement and, possibly, her advice.
“Two things,” she finally said. “One: Those boys are lying to you and to themselves because no one who just wants to get their dicks wet behaves like that. However, you can’t force them into anything they won’t admit to themselves. And unfortunately I have no way of telling if they’ll get a grip. I can offer to bash their heads in if they don’t though.” A choked chuckle erupted from my throat. “Two: You need to think about how much you can take and you need to be selfish. If your arrangement works for you, go do them as much as you like and enjoy it. But you’re hurting right now because you’re not getting what you need and what you deserve. And you’ve been down that road before. Don’t let yourself be destroyed just to be what you think someone else wants you to be. You’re worth so much more than that.”
“Lia, I…”
“Don’t answer any of that right now. Just think it over. I love you, okay? I need to get back to work now, but text or call me any time. I’m just a train ride away, always.”
I ended up with so many tears streaming down my face, the poor cashier at the chip shop barely understood my order.
•••
Noah was avoiding me, plain and simple. It was even that I’d actively attempted to speak to him again - after our short talk this morning and Lia’s reassurance, it felt justified to expect him to come to me if he had anything to say. However, it remained painfully obvious that he would turn the other way if he saw me in the hallway, move to a different room if I entered and absolutely refuse to make eye contact through it all. It was starting to grind my gears.
I decided to move back to Oli’s dressing room, spending the time before the show would start with him. At least he wasn’t running from me. He was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, facing the door, and yet, as soon as he saw me, he snapped his laptop shut so quickly I feared it was going to break.
“Secret mission?” I asked, brows raised, but never stopped approaching him. He made quick work of moving his stuff away from the couch so I could drop down next to him.
“You know it. Top secret. Highly confidential. Almost as well-guarded as our next album.”
“But hopefully not taking as long to reveal itself, whatever it is.”
“You’re a rude one, you know that?” Oli asked, but his tone was playful and his hand was messing with my hair. I swatted him away immediately. “Rude and annoyed. What’s up with you?”
I let out a massive sigh, much too big for my ribcage, and I felt the sting when I inhaled. One more look at the screen of my phone, but Noah still hadn’t given me any sign of life.
“Looking for jobs and places to stay again?” Oli guessed, incorrectly, but I didn’t want to tell him the truth anyway. The situation between the three of us was messed up enough, I didn’t need to come crying to him because of something Noah had or hadn’t done when he himself was involved with both of us.
“I would be okay with my few savings if it was just for the job search going badly, but now… A year ago, a would have just forced Lia to let me stay with her but she’s married and all honeymoon-ed up still and I’m definitely not bulldozing my way into that.”
I could tell he was thinking about saying something, an unhelpful comment, a plea for me to reconsider moving in with Lia temporarily, an empty phrase like it will work out, but I didn’t want or need any of it.
“Whatever. I’m done with the bad mood. You have a show to play and tomorrow we’ll be in Sheffield and we should concentrate on that.”
Oli grabbed my chin in his hand, dragging me toward him until he could place a kiss on my lips, his mouth so much softer than his fingers as they were digging into my skin. I let him, the way I let him do anything to me, turning into nothing but a soft body to do with as he pleased. It was over much too soon and I craved more, but I knew the time until he had to be on stage was ticking.
“Wanna do something fun?” he teased, smiling so brightly I could see the sharp edges of his vampire teeth peeking out.
“That sounds suspicious as hell, Oli.”
He leaned over toward the make-up table, grabbing a pencil I couldn’t quite see properly yet, before chucking it at me. Eyeliner. At least not the liquid type, but soft and waxy. I uncapped it and twisted a bit of it upward.
“Bet you’ve always wanted to do my make-up.”
The thing was - I did. I wasn’t particularly good at it, but I’d watched Oli paint his face, have MUAs do their magic, have him ask his bandmates for help if he deliberately went for a more smudged and untidy look. I’d always loved the way some black around his eyes made him look just that tiny bit more feminine, impossibly long lashes and gorgeous irises. I wasn’t sure how much of that he knew, but it was absolutely raising my spirits.
“Alright. Chair, now.”
Oli chuckled but didn’t resist, moving over to the chair in front of the make-up table and mirror. I surveyed what was available to me but ended up sticking with the eyeliner he had handed to me. It seemed like the safest option. Especially because I’d never put make up on anyone but myself.
I ordered him to close his eyes, deciding to start with his upper lid, and leaned down, but the position was hell on my back and the angle was weird. I tried to scoot another chair close, but then the distance was too large and my arm wouldn’t hold steady enough.
“Right, enough of that, c’mere.”
With a steady grasp, he held onto my hips, pulling me into his lap so I was straddling him. He looked awfully smug about it, too.
“I spend a lot of fucking time in your lap lately,” I mused, but I wasn’t really complaining. We both knew as much. My hands rested on his chest, the tip of the eyeliner almost threatening to touch his shirt and ruin it with black, waiting for him to resume his former position and close his eyes.
“Maybe it’s where you belong,” he whispered, pulling me closer, dragging his lips over the side of my neck, a feeling so soft and honest that I couldn’t tell him to stop just yet. His tongue was on my pulse point. I almost expected a bite to follow, something more harsh, him turning the delicate moment around, but it never came.
Instead, when he leaned back, mustering me but still not allowing me to continue trying to get some colour on his face, he said, “You should wear lipstick more often.”
My hand inadvertently moved to my lips, even though I knew they were bare. The only make up I was wearing had been meant to hide my cried out eyes from the night before, although some of it had shifted when the tears had returned on my call to Lia, but Oli never mentioned it and I silently thanked him for it.
“‘specially the type that stains,” he added.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “The type that stains?”
“Yeah. Not like the one two nights ago. Watched you kiss Noah and he didn’t even get a little bit of red on him.”
“Is that what you want? Lipstick stains?” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the thought. “All over you and Noah? Because I can make that happen.”
“Tomorrow,” he decided. “When I’m done with the social rounds back home and Drop Dead. I’m taking you and Noah out for dinner.”
I ignored the way my body craved to stiffen at the idea of meeting Noah. How I was still waiting for him to approach me, explain himself, apologise. We’d figure it out, in time. Surely. So, instead of letting my annoyance at him take over, I nodded at Oli.
“Tomorrow. Now hold the fuck still and let me do my work or you’ll end up with a fake moustache on your face after all.”
•••
I had just about finished drying my hair and pulling a ridiculously oversized shirt over my head after a shower that was so hot it probably would have left scorch marks on the devil, when a knock sounded on my door. The temptation to ignore it was high - all I really wanted was to fall into bed and ignore the world until my alarm went. But the knocking, once again, persisted, irregular noises that suggested whoever was in the corridor wouldn’t just leave.
Noah was drunk. I knew it immediately. It wasn’t the bottle of Hennessey in his hand or the smell of alcohol on his breath when he greeted me. It wasn’t even the way he leaned against the doorframe, not suave as he usually was, but clinging on for support. It was in his eyes.
“Fuck, Noah, what are you doing?”
“Lemme in, please?” His puppy dog eyes only managed to look like a grimace. “I just want to apologise. Really.”
He wasn’t completely gone and I thanked whoever was responsible for that because the last thing I needed was trying to maneuvre his tall ass into bed and holding his hair while he puked, but the drink had done enough to make him look at me differently, to hold himself with a different kind of effort. Maybe had done enough to make him be honest in a way he was unable to otherwise.
An older couple passed behind him, throwing me a questioning and potentially judgemental look at the way he swayed in my doorway, so I relented and pulled him in. No need for a public scene. Or people taking photos.
“Alright,” I decided, settling down on the ledge of my bed and pointing toward the armchair in the corner. “Sit and explain, then.”
I grabbed the bottle as he passed me, surprisingly not encountering any resistance or protest, and took a swing for good measure. Whatever he had to tell me, the alcohol would hopefully lessen the impact just a little.
Noah sat, as instructed, and while he was looking at me in theory, his eyes didn't meet mine at all. Instead, they hastily flicked between several places on my body, anything that wasn't my face.
“Aubrey, I realise that over the past few days my… my actions haven't been aligning with my words and, uh, you don't deserve to have me cause disarray in terms of your emotions-”
“Did you write that down and learn it by heart?” The way his stare awkwardly redirected to the floor only seemed to confirm my suspicions. “Fucking hell Noah, I don't need a fancy ass speech! I just want to know what the fuck is going on and I need you to stop being so fucking sweet to me when all you're willing to do is fuck me.”
I couldn't tell when I had gotten up but by the time I realised I was already pacing the floor. Noah got up, seemingly on his way to me, but stopped dead in his tracks.
“Fuck, dizzy,” he mumbled unhappily. Still, he reached out, stopping my movements with a single hand on my arm. “I'm sorry, Aubrey. I'll… I'll do better, I swear. I just can't stay away from you.”
“You don't need to stay away from me. I don't want you to,” I signed, grabbing onto his hips as he swayed a little. “You need to lie down, Noah.”
I had meant his own bed, in his own room, far away from me, leaving whichever bandmate he was rooming with that night to take care of him for the night. But I couldn't. I simply couldn't. Not with the way he was looking at me, allowing me to see so much hurt and confusion and need for something I couldn't quite comprehend yet. So I lead him to my own bed instead, once again helping him get undressed down to his underwear and tucked him under my blanket.
I wanted to be mad at him so badly and I knew he'd deserve it too. But my heart ached when I looked at him, so obviously struggling with his own feelings, wanting to do everything right and failing again and again. I didn't know if I would ever get what I wanted and needed from him. Lia's words echoed in my brain. But as much as it hurt, at least for the remainder of this tour, I knew I wouldn't manage to let go of him.
“Aubrey.”
My name tasted so sweet falling from his lips. Before I gave rationality a chance to take over, I lied down next to him, far enough away not to be touching, close enough to see every breath move his chest, every flutter of his eyelashes. His eyes were closing on their own accord. How long had he been drinking? The bottle wasn't all that empty but he could have started with something else. I wondered what had come first - the first sip or the overthinking. I was sure he had done plenty of the latter. How long he had sat somewhere drowning his sorrows or pleading the bottle for more courage?
“You deserve so much more than me,” Noah mumbled, pulling me out of my thoughts. I’d been sure he had fallen asleep already, but now, for a moment, his eyes were opening again, just enough to finally look at me, really look at me. His hand reached for mine, holding it so tenderly that I wanted to scream. That I didn’t care about what I deserved or what was good for me or whatever other bullshit he had to say, that I wanted him despite it all, because of it all.
I didn’t have to decide what to reply. Noah’s breathing had steadied, eyelids shut again, and from the slightest twitch his hand gave, I knew he had fallen asleep. Yet I felt more awake than ever, the sound of my beating heart the only thing filling the room.
•••
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when I woke up, especially after having been so sure I wouldn’t find any rest at all that night. No light came in from behind the curtains, so I figured it was still night. Although with how gloomy this January was proving to be, that actually wasn’t much of a sign. The room next to mine, Oli’s room, was still silent as well. Hopefully he was getting some decent sleep. It wasn’t a secret that he struggled with that more often than not.
With the darkness and silence still enveloping the room, I questioned what had woken me up at all. The answer came rather quickly.
I had turned away from Noah in my sleep, but he had apparently disagreed with the distance it had cause between us because he had shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around me, keeping me safe and secure in his embrace. And then he moved, just the tiniest bit, and all I could possibly think about was the way I suddenly noticed his hard-on pressing against me.
My breath was refusing to escape my lungs. The sensation was so new, so intimate, so intense, despite everything we’d done before. When he moved again, a tiny noise leaving his mouth, I knew he was awake. Awake and trying so hard to keep himself in check. Which was the last thing I wanted. I could feel him twitch, could feel his slightly laboured breathing hitting the back of my neck, his strong chest molding against my back.
“Noah,” I whispered, grabbing his hand as it was pressed slightly against my belly. He stiffened immediately, as if caught out, and now it was him holding his breath.
But I wanted it. I wanted him. This simple situation had erased every ounce of resolution about potentially staying away from him. It was nothing short of impossible, all of a sudden. My body needed him in ways I’d rarely experienced, my mind spinning with the possibilities. There was nothing left in me that could refuse him.
“Are you still drunk?”
“I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing,” he answered, voice rough and low and sending tingles down my spine.
It was all I needed to hear. Pulling his hand higher, I put it over my breasts, allowing him to touch, allowing him to do what he pleased with me. Noah immediately responded by pushing his cock against my arse with force, now free of constraints, and I let out a pitiful moan. Both of us were only in our underwear, my shirt having ridden up to my waist in my sleep, and it still wasn’t anywhere near being close enough. He was growing harder with every movement, grinding against my body, kneading my breasts. I was burning with desire. I didn’t care about slow, or teasing, or romantic.
I led his hand down my body, pushing it between my legs so he could feel my growing arousal, the way I was starting to soak through my panties. It was almost embarrassing how quickly I got wet with him or Oli around, but I simply couldn’t help it. My body craved them with an intensity that had me ready to go in a heartbeat.
One of Noah’s legs slotted between mine to spread my thighs further as his fingers slipped under the waistband of my underwear. He wasted no time finding my clit, just for a moment, before moving lower, pushing a finger inside easily.
“Fucking hell, Aubrey, you’re killing me.”
I whined loudly, already needing more as I tried to grind down on his finger to get that bit more friction. With every movement, every noise I made, I could feel his cock push against me. I wasn’t the only impatient one.
“Please tell me you have a condom on you,” I groaned, still moving with him, but needing so much more.
Noah didn’t answer, but he took his hand away, making me gasp at the loss, and turned around to where I presumed he had dropped his jeans on the floor next to the bed. I sat up, just for a second, to remove my shirt. I wanted as much skin contact as humanly possible, craving to feel him everywhere on my body, and the fabric had been an unwelcomed barrier. In a quick move, I also slipped my panties down my legs and discarded them, hoping he’d follow suit.
Turning my head toward him, I watched as he indeed removed his underwear and put on a condom with a moan.
“I went for extra lube,” he chuckled, “but I don’t really think you need it.”
Then Noah was back on the bed, resuming the position we’d been in before and I almost cried when I felt his dick press against me, between my legs, no clothing left between us. He lifted my leg again, his cock moving up and down my pussy in teasing motions.
“Fuck, please, just…” A moan interruped me when his tip bumped against my clit.
“Just what, angel?
“Fuck me, Noah.”
It was all it took. With his arm wrapped around me once more to hold me steady, Noah pushed in, slowly, achingly slowly, and I felt like I was going to fall apart even before he was in all the way. It was simply so good, so perfect, as if he’d been meant to fuck me all along, that nothing else in the world seemed to matter anymore but his body against mine, moving inside of me.
His thrusts weren’t speeding up. I couldn’t tell if he was lost in the enjoyment of the feeling or if he had set out to tease me to the point of begging. I wasn’t above it. I would plead him any day, if that was what he wanted.
“Noah,” I whined, trying to grind down on him, but the position left me at a disadvantage while his arm held me in place. He was pressing hot kisses to the back of my neck now, finding all my sensitive spots, moving behind my ear and down to the top of my spine. “Please, I can take it, I promise.”
He didn’t get any quicker, but every time he pushed into me now, it seemed to be with a little more force. My hands didn’t know what to do or where to go. One kept grabbing at his own hand splayed on my lower stomach, the other kept fisting the sheets. His kisses turned into bites, teeth tormenting the skin on my neck and I hoped it would leave a mark.
When Noah spoke again, his mouth was right next to my ear, his breath impossibly warm. “Yeah? Think you can? Want me to fuck you hard and fast? So you’ll feel me tomorrow? Gonna think of me every time you move cause I ruined your gorgeous pussy.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, my arousal climbing and climbing into the impossibly. “Fuck me, ruin me, anything you like.”
Suddenly, Noah pushed me on my front, still buried deep inside me as he grabbed my hips but kept me in a lying position, a hand pressed to my shoulder blades. And when he finally kept his word and made my wishes come true, it was beyond what I could have expected. He was relentlessly pounding into me, moving with a speed and strength I hadn’t experienced with him yet. I took it all, willingly and happily, letting him fuck me into the mattress until I felt utterly brainless.
The room, so utterly quiet just shortly before, was filled with the sounds of hit skin hitting mine, my moans rising higher and higher with every thrust, and his low groans as he chased his own high. My face was pressed into the pillows, but it still did little to muffle my voice.
I was so close to coming undone, his dick hitting all the right spots, his hand still pressing me down into the bed, it was like I could taste the end.
“Touch yourself, I want to feel you come,” Noah ordered. How was I ever going to refuse? I shuffled just enough to get my hand between my body and the mattress and as soon as I touched my clit, I knew it wasn’t going to take much. “Fucking gorgeous. Taking me so well, like you were made for me. You look so fucking good with my cock inside you.”
When I came, it took me with such force that I felt dizzy, a ringing in my ears briefly quietening everything around me, to the point where I had no idea how loud I was or if I was even still making noises at all. Noah followed in perfect alignment, shuddering thrusts as he came into the condom and I craved so much for the barrier to be gone, to feel it all, to have it inside of me. He was loud, louder than expected, then his movements faltered. When he pulled out, I made a single noise of complaint, even though I already felt sore.
I stayed on my front, Noah somewhere beside me, our breathing slowly settling down again. I felt cold and exhausted, the sweat on my skin turning uncomfortable. Then I felt his hands on me, all assertiveness gone, simply soft and careful movements to turn me on my side toward him. His lips met mine in an unhurried kiss, sweet and slow. I wanted to stay in this moment forever. And when he pulled away, keeping me in his embrace and looking at me with those brown doe eyes that I’d come to adore so much, I knew that there was no way back to me. I’d fallen for Noah Sebastian, hard and fast, and all I wanted was to make him mine.
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scarvain · 3 days
Text
✶ STARGIRL — hamzahthefantastic x reader
002 ✶ Admire Me
stargirl masterfile – next – previous
SUMMARY: hamzah has a crush on a youtuber who's always out and about and slushies see their relationship progress on social media! (smau)
DISCLAIMER: reader is a brown haired girl and for some pics that aren't faceless, i'll be using olivia rodrigo cause i love her and she’s filipino like me hehehe
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by devonleecarlson, kalynnkoury, and others
ynln new vid is up ft funny ppl
view comments
user001 SLUSHYNOOBZ AND Y/N WTF!!!!!
user637 where did u get this sweater omds
↳ ynln theres no tag and its not minee
↳ user417 IS IT HAMZAHS
user890 HAMZAH SWEATER
user145 awww carl and fish
user791 HAVE U GUYS SEEN THE VIDEO HAMZAH KEEPS LOOKING AT HERRRRR
hamzahthefantastic nice sweater i guess
↳ ynln this is what u look like rn 🤓 anw thanks for the sweater
↳ user369 DOES THIS CONFIRM IT???!!!?!
becoming a slushynoob for a day
44k views • 5 hours ago
uploaded by ynln
"hey you guys, does this place look familiar to you?" you tried to ask with the straight face, looking straight into the camera, trying to ignore the two boys that stood right beside it.
but right before you say your next sentence, you burst into laughter. "oh my fucking god—it's like that she sent me her location trend on tiktok!" you cover your mouth as you laugh even more.
"what does that even mean?" martin asks with a confused face and hamzah just shrugs at him, still off screen.
"okay, today i am at the slushynoob hospital because..." you look up at them and hamzah mutters the word virus multiple times for you to say. "i got the virus on me and only two wonderful doctors can help me, mind joining me here?" you signal for them to sit by the couch now and martin jumps on it, crashing the side of his body on his yellow couch.
hamzah sighs but then he notices you were smiling at him, inviting him to sit next to you which he obliged to.
they introduced themselves before the boys explained what they were planning on doing.
"okay! so first thing is your outfit, hamzah hand me what we've prepared for y/n today." martin crosses his legs and puts his hands out.
the curly haired boy reached to the side for the clothes they prepared. "you can choose between the martin's orange vest or this camo sweater." hamzah said in a weird "cool" tone which made martin bite his lips to stop himself from laughing.
it was clear to martin that his friend was trying to look good in front of the girl he liked. it was for sure going to be a long day.
now, you're wearing both of the clothes they put out and now in hamzah's car but instead of martin being in the passenger seat, you occupied it and he was sat at the back.
"okay so where are we going now?" you look between hamzah and martin, going a bit closer so you could include martin.
"that's a secret just film this," hamzah tells you, eyes focused on the road and suddenly he feels the camera on him.
you were smiling as you held your camera towards him, he glances and he starts to feel his breath hitch. "is he always this serious?" you joked which earned a laugh from martin and a scoff from hamzah.
you guys ended up going to a drive thru and buying almost half of the menu then going back to martin's apartment.
the next clip showed the three of you, sitting down on the floor with all the food set up on the table. hamzah was right beside you, watching you pet and play with the pets in the house. "it's starting already," martin whispered then you looked up.
the rest of the afternoon, the three of you ate the food and shared with each other as you talked about any topic you could talk about.
most of the time it was only you and martin speaking as hamzah kept on zoning out due to the fact you were sat next to him and he could smell the cologne you were wearing.
"what about you hamzah?" was the only thing that got him to snap out of it. he looked up at you, head a bit tilted in confusion. "what's a place you wanna visit?" you asked before taking some of his fries.
there were more questions and you three got to know each other more.
after the mukbang, they taught you how to play overcooked but only some clips were added to the video.
one of them being hamzah helping you play the game as his hands were on top of yours, directing your hands on what buttons to press. you felt your cheeks heat up during the game and martin was too focused on the game to realize what was happening.
after you guys bid goodbye to the end the video, you hugged them before leaving. "wait! i still have to change." you suddenly remembered, quickly taking off the vest.
as you were about to pull off the camouflage sweater, hamzah stops you. "you can keep the sweater but the vest i don't think martin would allow you to keep it," you both chuckle, handing him the vest.
he was about to speak again until your uber arrived in front of the building.
you hug the boy one last time with a smile on your face. "i'll see you soon!" you said before you entered the car.
"get home safe, okay?"
✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @kingvioleta @tumb1rgir1z LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!
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mysterystarz · 2 days
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the world is yours, if you ask
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pairing: iwaizumi hajime x g!n reader
genre: slightly angsty but has nothing to do with iwa (he helps), fluffy moments, comfort, reader realizes that perhaps the one was right in front of them the entire time
disclaimers: reader has a bf for plot, there is no cheating!! reader is going to split up with this bf dw
a/n: remember you always deserve love!
reblogs and comments are appreciated <3
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if iwaizumi hajime said that he wasn’t used to emotional responses from the people closest to him, he’d be the biggest liar of all time.
knowing oikawa for as long as he had, he’d almost come to expect the cycle of responses based off their games, their grades, or even minor inconveniences. his friend was strong, sure, but he knew what to expect from the childish setter.
but you. he didn’t know what to expect when you, the strongest person he knew, appeared at his doorstep.
behind you, the darkening hues of evening brought out the shadows in your face, and he could see the weight of the sadness you held on your shoulders.
“iwa….hajime,” you tried, shakily smiling when he finally met your gaze.
he was going to kill whoever did this.
“come inside,” he said immediately, escorting you by your shoulder to the inside of the foyer. he pulled up a chair for you to sit, his eyes never leaving your form.
“thanks for taking me on such short notice,” you said, settling into the chair, “i….didn’t know where else to go.”
he inched closer, green eyes filled with a concern so deep, you were momentarily speechless.
“what happened?”
your breathing stilled for a moment as you recounted the events that had led you to where you sat now.
“my boyfriend…..wasn’t very nice to me.” you started, “i mean, it’s not his fault. i wasn’t really cooperating with him. he wanted me to hang out with him, but i had a test and really needed to study. he hasn’t said more than a few words to me since.”
iwaizumi clenched his fists. when oikawa had first told him the news of your relationship, he’d extended a congratulations.
that period of felicitation was short lived however. your boyfriend was a dick — plain and simple —and iwaizumi couldn’t think of anyone who deserved you less.
“what do you mean it’s not his fault?” iwaizumi chose to say, hiding his frustration at your tolerance for mistreatment. you tolerated far too much.
“well, we’d had a deal,” you began, “once we got through last week’s exams, we were supposed to take this week chill together. he’d been so nice about it too, but as soon as i changed my mind and wanted to do well….he just….shut me out. i called him you know…and he barely said anything.”
“and?” he asked expectantly. he knew you. he knew you wouldn’t accept that forever.
“i begged to communicate.” your voice broke a bit at the end, and iwaizumi would’ve enveloped you in a hug hadn’t it been for the topic. “i said we needed to communicate so we could see how to make this work for the both of us. he said he’d said everything. i begged him to talk but….well i just hung up and he never called back.”
you fell silent, the weight of it heavier than anything you could’ve endured. your phone sat limply in your pocket, with no signs of anything.
he wasn’t going to call tonight. that was certain.
iwaizumi sighed, meeting your eyes. “you don’t have to take this you know?”
you looked back at him in surprise. “what do you mean?”
“i mean,” he said, reaching his hand to set gently on top of your own, “you don’t need to keep staying with someone who treats you like this. i know how much you’ve taken from him, but the least he could’ve done is call back.”
“i’m hopeful,” you admitted, watching iwaizumi’s eyes shift into something more determined.
it took you a moment to realize, but sitting there, iwaizumi’s hand on top of your own, you were calmer than you’d been in months.
“if he cared to talk this out, he would’ve called. it doesn’t take long to even shoot a text. what he’s doing is holding you to his standards and belittling you for making your own decisions.”
iwaizumi paused for a moment, as if in deep thought. “and someone like you doesn’t deserve that. someone as brilliant as you deserves someone who uplifts and cherishes your efforts.”
“you think i’m brilliant?” you blurted out, immediately embarrassed when the ace grinned blindingly at you.
“yeah,” he laughed, a slight tinge of pink making its way onto his ears. “the world is yours if you ask for it, y/n.”
you sat there stunned for a moment, the weight of the words shifting your entire view. you’d never realized before how loyal iwaizumi was to you.
he had always had your best interests in mind. whether it be escorting you home on days your boyfriend didn’t care to, or even sacrificing his sleep schedule just to ensure you were feeling alright if you couldn’t sleep at night.
he was devoted in all the ways your boyfriend could never even dream of being.
perhaps, you were looking in the wrong place all along.
perhaps, your perfect fit was right in front of you.
“thank you hajime.” you whispered, leaning in to hug him. he held you tight to his chest, never once wavering as you clung to him like a lifeline. “i think i’m going to call things off.”
iwaizumi rubbed circles onto your back. “no matter what happens, i’ll be here.”
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©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited
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dunmeshi-darlings · 2 days
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Can I request something for the Laios party where reader likes to pull pranks and generally is a well meaning little shit? Surprise tickle attacks, whoopee cushions, tapping someone shoulder and quickly stepping to the other side of them like they did nothing, that sort of thing.
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Laios - Whenever you prank Laios it almost feels like its to easy, he never sees it coming and always falls for whatever prank you come up with. And of course he always laughs and says you got him again, he is always good hearted about the pranks.
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Marcille - Falls for them every time just like Laios, However unlike Laios she will sigh and get flustered and shouty (especially with like whoopee cushion ones) And when you prank her with tickle attacks she just starts screeching and flailing around.
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Chilchuck - Thanks to his hearing he is usually able to hear you sneaking up on him and sneaking stuff under his seats. So more often then not he catches you before you can prank him, commenting how you need to be quicker than that and to stop acting so childish in here its dangerous....But those times you do prank him, oh they are SO good cause he is distracted usually so it gets him extra hard. Be prepared to be cursed out (not seriously) in half-foot language.
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Senshi - You have no idea how he does it, it has to be some form of either magic or he has to hear you or something...but no matter what you do, you CANT prank senshi. Litterally nothing works, he somehow always turns around when you go to sneak up to tickle him, he turns the right way to look at you when you poke his shoulder, never sits on the whoopee cushion (somehow either it gets knocked off, or somebody else accidently sits on it) and the times you DO manage to either tickle him somewhat or poke him he just doesnt react!? it infuriates you to no end. you vow to get him one day!
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Izutsumi - Izutsumi 100% joins you in pranking people after you pranked her the first time, the two of you are the ultimate prank duo. You would distract marcille while izutsumi sneaks up to tap her shoulder. Izutsumi distracts laios while you sneak a whoopee cushion under his seat. The both of you going for a pincer attack to tickle attack chilchuck so he cant escape.
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jarondont · 3 days
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Aftermath (odypen fanfic)
TW: mentioned SA and (according to my friend) slightly (and I mean SLIGHTLY) suggestive
[I was pretty proud of this one so I wanted to share :D]
[credit to @dootznbootz for the Water Wife™ headcanon]
The palace halls were deserted this time of night. The two lovers had taken an evening stroll — more like midnight stroll — and were still drenched from the creek. It wasn’t her fault, she insisted — Odysseus started it. Had he never smugly commented about his “godlike looks,” Penelope might have not used her naiad powers and they both would probably still be dry. But no.
That lovable little bighead, she thought to herself, smiling.
“What is it?” he asked from beside her. She snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at him — then, seeing his cocky grin, looked back down. Her cheeks felt hot.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how embarrassed you looked after the creek incident.”
“Did not!”
“Did too.”
“Did not!”
“Quit arguing like a child,” she chuckled.
He pretended to pout, softening his expression like a little pup as he always did to persuade her.
“Don’t make that face at me.”
His grin returned, wider this time. “Why not? Too gorgeous for you?”
She stopped walking and playfully shoved his shoulder into the nearest pillar. Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close. For a second, they stayed there, looking into each other’s eyes, barely able to breathe.
She eyed his lips. He eyed hers. She inched her face closer, almost closing the gap between them —
“Wait.”
Confused, she pulled back. “What?”
Odysseus was trembling. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his skin pale. “I just … I can’t.”
“Why not?” Penelope’s brows furrowed. “Odysseus, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t respond. His chest was heaving, his eyes flicking wildly from one spot to another — looking at everything but her. And he wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Odysseus. Ody, look at me.”
He did, but his eyes were wild.
“You can tell me if something’s bothering you. Did I do something? Say something?”
“No — no, I …” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“It’s okay, Ody. You can tell me.”
“Ca — ” his breath hitched. “Calypso,” he breathed, barely audible.
“What — ” Suddenly, Penelope understood. She’d heard that word before. Calypso wasn’t a what.
She was a who.
“Another woman?” Penelope took a step back. “Is that what this is about?”
No response. Just more ragged breathing.
“Answer me, Odysseus,” she spat angrily. “Who is this woman you slept with? Why did you choose her over me?”
His eyes widened more, suddenly flicking up to meet hers. “No! No, it’s not like that. She — ”
“What’s going on, Odysseus? What else haven’t you told me? What else are you hiding?”
“Penelope, listen — ” He paused, choking a little as tears formed in his eyes. “I tried to stop her but she — ” Suddenly, he dissolved in tears. “I’m so sorry.”
Oh.
Penelope’s heart dropped. He didn’t choose Calypso over her — no, the reality was much worse.
She stepped closer again. “Ody, it’s okay — ”
“No. No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”
Reaching out to touch his face, she repeated, “It’s okay — ”
But he jumped away from her hand like it was the point of a sword.
“Don’t touch me.”
She froze, realizing why he said that. “I’m sorry, Ody — ”
His expression softened. “No. I’m sorry. I — ” his voice caught in his throat as his eyes widened again.
“I have to go,” he said, slowly backing away.
“Odysseus — ”
“I’m so sorry.”
And he turned and sprinted away.
•••
“Odysseus? Ody, where are you? Odysseus!”
Penelope ran through the halls, almost tripping and cursing at her dress for being so long. She called her husband’s name over and over again, worry blossoming in her heart like a poisonous flower.
She checked the gardens. Nothing.
She checked the main hall. Nobody in sight.
She checked the courtyard. Completely empty.
Where was he?
Realization struck her — there was only one place left.
Panting, she knocked on the bedroom door. “Ody? Ody, it’s me, are you in there?”
No response. She was about to knock again but then —
Sniffle.
Her heart felt like it had been ripped into pieces. Just that one sound made her knees feel week. Odysseus was crying — because of her. Because she decided to do the one thing that made him uncomfortable — touch him.
Although, she thought, Odysseus had never acted like this before. If anything, they both loved curling up on that wedding bed of theirs and losing themselves in love. It made them feel … intertwined. Not just their limbs. But their hearts. Their souls. Like two olive bushes — one tame, one wild — growing from the same stem with their branches wound together so tightly that nothing, not even the wind or rain, could pass through.
Now, it felt as if someone was hacking at the wild branch with an axe, trying to cut him off from his stem and pry him away against his will. That someone was Calypso.
Or maybe — Penelope dreadfully thought — it was herself.
Either way, she could not let him feel like that any longer. She opened the door, stepping inside.
“Ody?”
Another sniffle.
She gently closed the door, then followed the sound to behind the bed. Curled up in a corner was the king of Ithaca — shaking, sobbing, choking on his breath with his head against the wall and knees tucked into his chest.
“Odysseus.”
A pained groan escaped his throat as he winced. His eyes were shut tight, his skin dripping with sweat and tears.
Her gut twisted. What was happening to him? “Odysseus. Ody, wake up. Please.”
“Enough, goddess,” he croaked quietly. “Please.”
“What — Odysseus, it’s me —”
“No!” His body twitched as if someone had sent a bolt of lightning through him. His brows furrowed in pain. “You’ve — you’ve hurt me enough. No more — no more games. Please, I beg of you.”
“Odysseus! Please! Wake up!” she cried, crouching down and desperately taking his face in her hands. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, clouding her vision. What must he have gone through to get this upset?
His eyes still squeezed shut, he jumped away from her touch. “Get away from me!” he yelled. “Please — leave me alone. Let me — let me have one peaceful night. One. Please —”
“ODYSSEUS, IT’S ME! It’s Penelope! You’re home, remember? You’re safe. Please, come back to me.” She choked, the tears flowing freely down her face now.
His eyes flew open as he jolted awake. At the sight of her, his breath hitched. “Penelope,” he whispered. “It’s you.”
She nodded, smiling through her tears. “Yes, my love. It’s me. You’re home.”
For a second, he was silent, taking in everything about her — her face, her electric blue eyes, now overflowing with tears. She held his gaze, watching him realize that this was Penelope — his loving wife. She’d never hurt him. Never.
Suddenly, he threw his arms around her, dissolving in tears again. She hugged him back, her fingers combing his sweat-soaked hair as sobs racked his body. She fought the urge to cry with him, knowing that she had to be strong for the both of them if she wanted to help him.
“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear over and over again until he had somewhat calmed down. “You’re okay.”
He waited until the tears stopped flowing, then let go and met her gaze again. “I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Penelope.”
“No, I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I won’t touch you anymore —”
“No!” he exclaimed. “No, please do.” His eyes glinted with longing. “Twenty years I have been starved of your touch. I can’t hold back any longer. I just — it’ll take some time for — for me to get used to it.”
“Take your time, my love. I’ll be right here by your side.”
He nodded, biting his lip as his eyes moistened again. Burying his face into her shoulder, he sat with her in silence.
After a moment, Penelope spoke. “If you ever want to talk about it —”
He shuddered.
“You don’t have to,” she stammered. “Talk about it, I mean. I know it’s hard. I know you’re hurt. But if you do —”
“No, I do. Just — give me a second.”
“Take your time,” she repeated.
A few seconds passed as he steadied his emotions. Separating himself from the embrace, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t meet her eyes.
“It wasn’t just Calypso. Before that … Circe.”
Oh, gods. Penelope felt dizzy.
“But at least I got something out of that. Hermes told me that for her to release my men, I — I had to allow myself into her bed. So I did, reluctantly.” His voice cracked. “It worked. She released my men and sent us on our way to the Underworld. I thought that would be the last of it.”
Penelope started to take his hand in hers, then stopped herself. But Odysseus looked down, then took her hand instead. She smiled at him comfortingly.
“Calypso was a different story.” He swallowed. “After my ship was struck down by Zeus, I washed up on an island. She greeted me, appearing kind at first. She gave me shelter, food, clothing, and company. One day, I told her that I must be on my way. But she —” He hesitated. “She had different plans. ‘I gave you everything I could. It’s time you repay me.’ I agreed. ‘Anything, goddess.’” He paused. “I wish I had known what she had meant.” His voice cracked again as he finally met Penelope’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
She shook her head.
“I'm just a man, Penelope. A mortal. I was no match against this goddess. I’m so sorry. Every night, no matter how hard I resisted, she’d — she'd force me into her bed; every night after … her, I’d lie awake thinking of you — of how I betrayed you, even when you were waiting for me for all these years —” He choked, letting out another sob.
She wrapped her arms around him again as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t, Ody.”
Silence fell again between the two as he composed himself. Penelope spoke again — “This happened … every night?” she whispered.
He slowly nodded into her shoulder.
“For how long?”
No response.
“Ody —”
“Eight years.”
Gods.
Now tears fell from her eyes too as his fingers dug into her back, desperately grasping for her affection. The realization that this — being forced to betray his beloved; not the monsters, the gods, or anything else he faced — was the worst he could have ever suffered.
For eight years. Penelope felt sick.
“I’m so sorry,” he kept saying, but she only shook her head.
Her heart shattered. None of this was his fault; why was he apologizing? And this was nothing like the Odysseus she knew. Odysseus was a hero — strong, brave, and cunning. No, this was … broken. A man who had been through far more than he let on; far more than he deserved.
Even heroes need to be consoled sometimes, she figured.
They sat like that for a while, taking comfort in each other. When they finally parted, they both felt different — healed.
All that was in the past now. They had each other now, as they always would. They were safe. They were home.
They were together. And that’s what mattered.
“Penelope?” Odysseus asked.
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
She only smiled.
That night, the two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms — the two olive bushes, intertwined again at last.
Never to be separated again.
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journalsouppe · 2 days
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The Touchstarved DEMO by @redspringstudio! I had so much fun replaying this DEMO over and over, I truly cannot wait for the full release. The art is gorgeous, the writing is excellent, and I am surprised at how much I really loved each character, I expected to at least hate one or two of them like with My Next Life lol. I highly recommend checking out the DEMO if you're a fan of otome games or gothic stories!
The DEMO can be found here on itch.io or here on steam! All the stickers are from different Hallween stickerbooks from Michael's Art Store ^^; (ngl I think this is one of my favorite spreads, I even did do some studies of the color/rendering fhdjsf)
Writing typed below! (plus extra notes)
Rating: 9.5 (demo score - great demo) Played: Sp 2024 Port: itch.io Play full? Y YES!!!!!!
Comments:
First Route: Origin - Unnamed. RO - Leander
love you have a choice of 3 origins
GORGEOUS ART!
this game made me realize I do really enjoy otome games and not as a joke or for irony lol fjdkfal
from initial appearances I like Vere and Mhin ^^;
all the gold on the angel doctor is so gorgeous
killer music
okay I thought I wouldn't like Leander but holy shit --
LMAO NOT HIS SEX ROOM
LETS go I got the special Leander option on the first try
I need to do studies of this art oml I need my art to look like this <3
DAMN, now I'm bummed I missed the kickstarter, I would LOVE the art book
I need the stickers too esp for when I journal the full version
not only do I like the art, the writing is very good too
Vere is so pretty...
I LOVE all the fun marketing lore and illustrations on the Red Spring Socials
ooo damn does Vere have a red option or did I do his route right without one
only three red choice dialogue. 4 recently for Kuras (no Vere)-- Vere has one now!!! Kuras and Vere should have them whenever the DEMO gets an update ^_^
I'm learning I'm good at making the correct decisions lol
I honestly didn't know you could die until after I finished Vere's route (2nd route I did correctly -- 1st was Leander) and was curious what submit surrender did (aka I didn't die initially but went back to see what would happen(
LMFAO NOT MHIN BLUSHING WHEN I TELL THEM OFF pfft
LMAOOO and now Mhin is scolding me
amused with who has slept with who
deathly curious on how fucked up Leander will be
Kuras's nose!!!!! <3
I love the concept designs of Sen and Elyon, I can't wait to meet them
LMFAO 'BASTARD'
ngl I love Ais's mullet
This should not have been one of my first otome games bc now my standards are so high, esp in regards to character design
I wonder if the flashing soulless in the title screen means we'll see more soulless in the full game (than just the one)
okay damn I also really like Ais, these are some really well written characters
LMAO I was not expecting this music for Kuras
oh interesting I didn't realize Mhin's red choice was during your first encounter if you're an alchemist
okay Kuras is very silly and goofy 10/10 guy
ooo good theories about Ocudeus and control on tumblr - "obedience" -- reference to someone thinking the "obedience suits you" line on Ais's character card was actually from Ocudeus not Ais
Summary:
I thought when playing more otome games it would be really hard to beat My Next Life, simply because I am a huge fan of the source material that preceded the game. But wow, with the way this game is setting up plotlines, the full version of this game could easily make it onto my top favorite games list. Otome games are all about replayability, and the way just the DEMO is so rich with content and alternating paths makes me so excited and hopeful for the full game's release. I am bummed I got onto the Touchstarved train late and missed the kickstarter, but hopefully a shop will open around release bc I'd kill for an art book. The art is just so gorgeous and I cannot wait to do some studies, especially with color and rendering. Before playing otome games, I like to look at the character profiles beforehand and predict who I'd like and dislike. And I am very delightfully surprised that any initial dislike I had of characters all but vanished because the writing and personalities of these characters were so well made. I thought I was going to hate Leander but he ended up being the character I'm most curious about. Although I would say my least favorite is Kuras simply bc I'm not a fan of romancing doctors, I am still curious about his background story and connection to the others. In other words, great character who is just not my type. I am also delightfully surprised at the "vulgarity" in this game without being overly explicit -- I have grown so tired of how sanitized a lot of games and shows have been that it's always really nice seeing indie companies play by their own rules. I am so glad I stumbled across this game!! At this point I've done every route favorably but haven't tried all the "wrong" options -- more to play whenever I think about how excited I am for the full game! I've also seen the sneak peaks of an upcoming update ^_^. Highly recommend the game!!
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hanyi-writes · 8 hours
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When you enter the kitchen, a plate of freshly cut apples is on the counter.
Turning to the calendar reminds you of the very few times Zayne's home and not out at the hospital. Even still, he's confined to his office typing away at his computer despite having promised to slip into bed a few hours ago. (He's kissed you sweetly on the cheek, too; voice just a murmur in your ear. You feel as if his presence is rare, the sight of him is even rarer then.)
Light escaping beneath the door down left of the hallway is the only evidence that Zayne's awake. You went off to dreamland by the time he left bed, and you're only in the kitchen because you feel parched.
It's five hours past his initial promise. A full cup of water and an empty plate the only evidence of your being in the kitchen, you choose to stomp over to his office to swing the door open.
"Zayne, you said—"
It dies quickly, like a fire snuffed out between someone's fingertips. Your concern melts into pity that's reserved between lovers, the scene in front of you moving you into action to get Zayne in your arms.
Your little doctor is passed out on his desk, except he's not getting any restful sleep—his shoulders are tense, a crease making his eyebrows meet together, and eyes shut tightly. A soft shake on his shoulders is your attempt of rousing him awake, taking his face into your hand as you watch him awaken. His features slacken and his breath exhaling close to yours is a relief; an anchor in rocky seas; stability when there is disorder.
Green eyes reveal themselves. Even half awake, his gaze is soft.
"Did I fall asleep?" His voice is a rumble in his chest.
You scoff, "Didn't seem like sleeping to me."
Zayne has still half the mind to sound amused. "I didn't know we had a somnologist here."
"Quiet, you," You chide softly, pressing a kiss on your doctor's forehead. For all that he is freezing like snowflakes falling on your palm, the warmth in that chuckle of his is what gets you. It's perfect: full of sleep, but just exact amount of fondness that's gut-wrenching. "Let's get you to the bedroom."
He watches you clean his desk and close his laptop. The lights are turned off by his deft fingers, your exit from his office a quiet one.
"Didn't we talk about not bringing work to home?"
Zayne falls quiet. His reply comes five seconds later, "We did."
Yes, the both of you did, but... there seems to be no use of regurgitating the same topic over and over again when this becomes a pattern.
(Sometimes, Zayne is too caught in the cold to see that there's someone else in the blizzard alongside him.)
"I just don't want you to overwork yourself," is what you end up saying instead. "You're more sensitive than you realize, you know."
When you both enter the bedroom, his sigh is the only sound in the room.
"I do," He admits. "But that is precisely why I have you."
You think he's saying that to sway you, in some sort of way, and probably because—he has. Since he's met you.
"You mean that you can be strong and all when there's someone else?" With his pliant demeanor, you easily tuck him into bed. A ghost of a smile is on his lips as he stares at you.
"Because I trust that 'someone else' to protect that side of me," Zayne murmurs, watching you get into bed yourself. You hover over him, peering down into his eyes, listening intently to what he'll say next. "Just like I do when you get into trouble. Which is more than often."
Your eyes thin, smacking him on the shoulder as gently as you could. Even like this, he makes sarcastic comments to you. "Alright, big boy. Time to sleep."
"Mm."
"I said, go to—" You pause, stopping yourself. "Ah, well, goodnight."
Zayne's always quick to fall asleep. It both amuses and fascinates you how easily he can drift off, but then, him snoozing away can give you enough moments to stare at him.
He looks better like this. Relaxed, only crazy and whacky dreams entering his mind.
Maybe he's right, then, you think as you give his cheek one last caress. You can protect him like this.
That's what you were aiming for, anyways.
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