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monzamash · 1 year

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the good, the bad and what could’ve been — lando norris (part one)

summary – nine years. an age gap that you didn’t know would cause so much heartache. you tell yourself that it’s fine, he tells you that he could give you the world but this was a cautionary tale of what could’ve been if you just let love win. pairing – lando norris x you (female reader) chapter rating – mature (sexual references, language, age gap/older woman) word count – 7k inspired by charlie puth's song called boy. masterlist

part one | part two | part three

Drenched rat was the only way to describe your appearance as the late evening downpour rained all over your parade. It had been one of those days that seemed to go on forever and there was nothing you wanted more than to see that last client waltz out of the studio and into those glorious Friday night shadows. Thank god it was the weekend.

"Any plans for the weekend, lovey?" Rae, your friend and closest co-worker asked from across the room, cleaning up her station for the last time this week.

You shrugged, not really having the mental capacity to even respond but she was being polite and the least you could do was answer.

"Maybe... My little brother's turning 21 and has reluctantly extended an invite my way so just loose plans at this stage. You?"

Rae went on to detail her jam-packed weekend with her husband, who like her was the life of every party. They were freshly married – only 3 months or so but they had been endgame since their college days apparently, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. Positivity exuded them wherever they went and you hated to admit that there was a pang of envy whenever they rocked up to after work drinks together or he dropped off her lunch that she'd left at home. Smitten by each other even after all these years.

All those little things festered away and created a small pit of jealousy in your stomach that you resented. You were happy, right? You had a successful career, a cute apartment and suitors 'round the block waiting for you to make up your mind and just fucking pick one of them. Anyone.

What Rae had was a once in a lifetime kind of love, you thought as the overhead lights were turned off and Patrick motioned for you to grab your shit and go home. The studio was cloaked in darkness as you squeezed through the small door, locked and loaded with an umbrella and a backpack filled with sketchbooks and diaries. And all you could do was pray that they were waterproofed enough to make the journey home.

"See ya Monday – and try to be on time, yeah?" Patrick arrogantly jabbed your way before disappearing out of sight and hopefully out of your life for the next 48 hours – or longer if you could get your shit together.

"Fucking arsehole," You muttered as Rae huddled under your umbrella, brushing your back with understanding.

"He doesn't know how to treat you because you intimidate him," She shook her long, black hair and rubbed her hands together, attempting to generate enough heat to keep warm as the thick fog rolled through the streets.

You shrugged, knowing that she was just trying to lighten the mood and send the week off with a positive – something she always liked to do for you, especially after a week filled with the same old bullshit. You were overbooked, overworked and wishing you were anywhere but here.

"It's nothing a really expensive bottle of wine can't fix," You half-joked and made sure Rae was sheltered before bidding her goodbye, "See you in hell on Monday."

Rae sent you a sullen wave, no doubt wishing she could've cheered you up just a little before going home to her seemingly perfect life. There wasn't much point trying when all attempts fell on deaf ears – nothing could pull you out of the perpetual cycle of drink, sleep, work, repeat. That was how it was and how it would always be and you had come to terms with that.

The short walk home from the studio was a miserable one, which was to be expected strolling the streets of London in the middle of December. But the glimmering lights reflected in the evening downpour and the smell of food cooking – sizzling kebab if you had to really hone in on the smokey, chargrilled scent wafting through the cool air, made it a little more bearable than usual. That didn't mean much considering nothing had brought you joy for months. Not even the discreetly packaged vibrator your best friend had left in a box on your doorstep with a sticky note saying, 'you deserve it'. Tragic.

You grumbled quietly to yourself, noticing a nosy neighbour standing beside the entrance to your building, waiting for either you or a cab. It was always hard to tell. She was an older lady who loved to pry and nothing gave her more pleasure than to bundle people up and have a chat. She was harmless and meant well but the last thing you needed tonight was an ambush.

"Sorry Effie, I have to get upstairs and get out of these wet clothes."

You got in first with the excuse and she simply smiled and waved. Effie knew the trials and tribulations of a London winter since she'd lived here all her life, simply wishing you a wonderful weekend and making you feel bad for brushing her off.

The apartment was cold and dimly lit as you flicked on the kitchen light and chucked your backpack down on the couch with a huff. You hoped it would feel better being home after a long day but you knew you had no food, no company and a cold bed waiting for you upstairs. All things that made it impossible to look on the bright side.

"Fuck. My. Life," You groaned into the fridge and slammed it shut, internally wishing past you had organised something for dinner.

You did as you told Effie and went upstairs to change into something comfier and less wet – a tracksuit set, combat boots and new beanie to cover the bird’s nest you called a "hairstyle". The floor length raincoat you should've taken to work was waiting for you at the front door – almost taunting your never-ending brain fades. You scooped up your keys and scarf and headed downstairs again, hoping that Effie had left to wherever the hell she was going on a Friday night. The fact a 70 year old woman had more of a social life should've worried you more but you were too tired to care.

By now it was a quarter to midnight and there was really only one option to get anything resembling food this late since the closest Waitrose was a 10-minute walk away. You had already burnt your bridge there by rocking up at closing time, forcing them to keep the tills open so you could buy emergency ice cream. You couldn't show your face there ever again.

The bright blue and red lights spilling into the puddles that were still filling from the rain was a welcomed sight. It was the only sign of life for miles, besides yourself and you were grateful having a 24-hour Tesco Express right around the corner. Capitalist convenience was in working order. The florescent lights were not as pleasant as you walked in and triggered the bell hanging over the automatic doors.

A familiar voice sang out your name, greeting you from behind the counter with a half-arsed smile adorning his kind face. You grabbed a basket and gave him a wave.

"Hi Kev," You meekly returned and continued on your way down the aisles, hoping to find a few things that would tide your hunger over until the sun came up.

You stopped at the confectionary section and perused for a second, debating whether a sugar hit this late in the night was the responsible adult thing to do. Your mum's authoritarian voice rang in your ears as you reached out and grabbed a bag of skittles, smiling to yourself as you dropped them into the basket. That smile had been the first of the day, maybe even of the week and it felt nice for a split second to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders.

"Late dinner?"

The voice came from a few steps away and belonged to a smirking stranger. He was taller than you, even hunched over the bargain bin he was rifling through. His hair was curly and sopping wet and it was hard to tell if it was just dark because of that or naturally, but your confused gaze connected with his and the smile that had just been on your cold face had disappeared.

"Excuse me?" You quietly asked and stared into his icy blue eyes, prepared to strike with a snarky comeback or two.

"The skittles," He pointed to your basket, "That used to be my evening meal a few years ago until I realised I was an addict and had to get help."

The kind smile on his face softened your stern expression, "Oh, right... Well I'm glad you found the help you needed. Maybe I should too," You tried to muster a joke and he laughed – loudly.

Nobody laughed like that at anything you had said lately because most of the things you did say were either dripping in sarcasm or laced with self-deprecation. Both weren't cute or endearing the longer it became apart of your personality. But he liked your joke enough to give you a boost of serotonin and your smile was back –even brighter than before.

"I did but you should definitely level it out with something else – maybe something chocolaty," The mystery man nodded towards the rows of chocolate bars lining the racks in front of you, now openly encouraging your bad habit.

His accent was different to what you were used to – British, kind of upperclass, kind of not but laced with something else and you were intrigued. Maybe even a little mesmerised by the way he stood his ground, making small talk to a complete stranger in the middle of the night. He looked cozy too, tracksuit clad like you, giving zero fucks about how you fashionable you looked, or really what anyone thought. Comfy, friendly, warm – he was different.

"Great suggestion but I think this will do enough damage," You replied, making him chuckle again.

"I'll live my junk food fantasies vicariously through you," He said before he turning on his heel and making his way to the register at the front of the store, humming to himself.

You could hear his boisterous yet kind voice as you grabbed a pre-mixed salad and lined up behind him, "Thanks man – have a great night," He said to Kevin who no doubt appreciated a friendly face this late in the night.

The stranger sent one lasting smile your way and said 'hope you do too' before he exited with his bag of almonds and a coconut water. Simple and nutritious – which was more than you could say about your late night dinner choices.

With a genuine pep in your step and your items safely tucked under your arm, you left the shop feeling a lot lighter than you did when you walked in and that was something unexpected. A polite run in with a stranger was an unlikely mood-booster but you were clinging to it while it lasted. That was until you noticed a shadowy figure walking up ahead as you rounded into your street and slowed down, but the person heard your footsteps loud and clear.

Internally cursing yourself for wearing the loudest boots you owned, you relaxed a little when you realised it was the man from the store, who had thrown a thick puffer jacket over his orange hoodie. There was a short pause as your eyes met and a puzzled look flashed across his flushed face, wind blown.

"I'm not stalking you," You said in hopes of easing his confusion, "I live here."

You pointed to the large wooden door that led into your apartment building as you tugged your jacket closed, trying to trap any warmth left in your body. The man turned around and looked to where you were pointing before spinning back with a soft chuckle, "And I live there."

He gestured to the building across the small side street you were both standing in, looking as bewildered as each other. It was your turn to laugh as the penny dropped – you were neighbours.

"Small world," You humorously replied and took a few long strides past him. As cute as he was in the darkness, you were frozen solid and needed to thaw out as soon as possible otherwise you'd be asking him for a ride to the hospital.

"See you around?" He asked more as a question than a statement and you nodded with a small, chattering smile.

"Yep," You simply replied and buzzed yourself into the building, shivering beneath all the layers you'd put on before leaving. Even though you were smiling through gritted teeth and feeling warmth from the fleeting conversation, the several layers of clothing and a genuine smile from a stranger weren't even enough to keep you from hypothermia. You couldn't wait to get upstairs and sit by the heater, wishing you were in some quaint country cabin far, far away.

"Yep... Just keep the peel on until tonight and then wash your thigh with that soap I gave you... Yep, warm water is perfect and make sure you put on a thin layer of cream after that... It’ll probably be a little red but I promise you’ll heal perfectly so don't stress," You reassured your client who had gotten her first ever tattoo yesterday.

Your work was rewarding in so many ways but the pressure of working for someone else came with it's unique challenges. There was nothing you wanted more than to open up your own little tattoo shop with Rae and live your life the way you wanted to – not the way some washed up muso envisioned. With a few more words of encouragement, you managed to reassure your client and begin your Saturday, doing a whole lot of nothing.

The sun was shining at least and you figured you might as well enjoy some of what the day had to offer before your night out later this evening. Your brother had given you strict instructions on when and where his birthday drinks were going to be and you knew then that making an appearance at this thing was now a non-negotiable. You couldn't be seen as the flaky older sister again and you didn't want to let him down – that relationship was one of very few that were sacred in your life and turning 21 was a big deal.

It wasn't long until you were strapping on your heels, sticking a couple more bobby pins into the messy bun you were trying to tame and trotting down the staircase, ready to mingle. You had been single now for much longer than you would've liked and although there had been moments of weakness, nothing had amounted to more than a shitty one-night stand. And it was infuriating.

A complete exodus from dating apps hadn't helped your cause but you couldn't handle another ghosting, especially not from some grubby dude who had no right being anywhere near you. You had standards that were high and there was nothing wrong with that – until a couple of gin and tonics are consumed and you forget you were even human. All of a sudden your standards have left the building along with you and said grubby dude.

"Hey!" A voice echoed from across the street as you closed the building door and glanced around with furrowed brows, wondering who was calling out your way.

That's when you spotted him – the man from last night who you couldn't stop thinking about, even if you didn't want to admit it. He looked different in the daylight and definitely lived up to parts of the vision you'd conjured after your random meeting in the street. The curls were there, as were the light blue eyes that caught your attention but he was younger than you first thought, a lot younger which was an important detail that you'd missed in the darkness. One you wished you had of noticed before summoning those late-night thoughts.

"Hi again," You greeted with crossed arms, trying to cover the somewhat revealing dress underneath your jacket.

You quickly clocked his athleisure wear and concluded that he was probably going to the gym with his friend who was trailing closely behind him. They were both full of smiles as you crossed the road, figuring you had to wait for your cab anyway so you might as well have company.

"I realised after I went in last night that I didn't even introduce myself – I'm Lando," He said and held out his hand for you to shake.

"Well in our defence it was super late and my brain was definitely mush," You replied and grasped his warm hand, introducing yourself.

You'd be lying if you didn't say there was a small, flash of something resembling a spark as you shook his hand. A little buzz of excitement that in the moment you chalked up to being super alone and outrageously horny. Desperate didn't even begin to describe the mess that was your sex life and with that in mind, your snap reaction of having undeniable chemistry with him was probably not accurate. But whether it was a figment of your imagination or not, it was still a valid feeling and you were going to have to bury that shit.

"Nice to put a name to the face," Lando smiled and turned to his friend who up until this point had remained quiet, "This is my father, Carlos."

You knew he was pulling your chain, or at least you hoped he. His friend shoved him in the side, fervently shaking his head, "Clearly not his father but Hola," He sheepishly greeted, voice laced with a thick accent and a smile that would make any sane individual with two eyes and a pulse melt in place.

"I was gonna say that's a little suss but I don't judge without context."

You glanced between the two men with a smirk and held your hands up – making them both chuckle quietly. They also eyed each other, a silent nod following that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was fleeting, almost so much so that if you blinked, you would’ve missed it. Maybe you wished you did because now you were cursing yourself for not taking that body language class at university all those years ago. Pointless and too bohemian for your liking, you thought at the time but now, standing on a rain gutter, you regretted passing such haste judgment. Their unspoken conversation infuriated you internally as Lando looked back at you with an awkward smile.

"Nah, I'm an appropriately aged guy and definitely not a child..." Lando trailed off and clumsily scratched the back of his neck, "Don't know what I mean by that but um yeah, not his son obviously." He was fumbling, frantically trying to change the subject but instead looked down at his dirty white sneakers with a grimace, internally face-palming himself.

You bit down on your mauve coloured bottom lip and tried to conceal the smile threatening to reveal itself. He was cute. Awkward? Absolutely. A little dorky with his oversized hoodie and boyish grin? You could say that but he was still kind of cute nonetheless.

"Obviously," You replied sweetly and noticed your uber pulling up outside your apartment building, ready to take you somewhere you could drown your shitty week away.

"Nice to officially meet you and your dad – see you around." You winked and maintained eye contact with Lando before strutting across the street and jumping in your uber.

You wondered what they said once you were gone and whether you looked better in broad daylight or in the shadows of the night. Your intrusive thoughts were quickly pushed aside when you realised he was more than likely taken, or not interested. Or more importantly, way too young for you to even be having these thoughts about. The good ones never were right for you – there was always something. It was like a curse that you'd picked up somewhere along the way – a curse that forbid any man with a job and their shit together to look your way twice. You were invisible to those men lately and you couldn't help but blame yourself.

With a mission to find someone to take your mind off those negative thoughts, you ordered your first drink, and then your second drink and you guessed it – your third and fourth in quick succession. You swore the dance floor was falling out from under your feet as your brother and his girlfriend scooped you up and called you an Uber. The night was over before it had even begun and you knew you'd be filled with regret in the morning. But right now, you were just lucky to be standing upright.

"Will you be okay?" Your brother asked as you flopped into the back of the car, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Pfft, I'm a professional drinker," You hiccupped and covered your mouth, "I'll be fine – driver, take me home!"

The uber driver mumbled something under his breath and punched in the address your brother had given him, no doubt sick of trashed girls on the brink of vomiting, flailing around in the back of his car. You were a mess and attempting to cover that up by drinking wasn't doing you any favours. In fact you knew it was only going to make you feel worse – especially tomorrow.

"Alright, you're home," The driver said loudly, waking you up from the quick nap you decided to take in the backseat, blaming the warmth for lulling you to sleep.

"Make sure you grab everything."

A scoff slipped past your lips as you gathered your bags, "I know what I'm doing," You retorted, not realising that you were probably slurring every word and most definitely making absolutely no sense to someone who was stone-cold sober.

You closed the door and nearly fell forward over the gutter doing so, trying to balance in the heels that had caused your feet to go numb. The black car drove off and you waved like a maniac, thinking you were hilarious before rummaging through your handbag for your keys. You could barely see through blurry vision and the cold air made every inch of you exposed skin tingle as you stumbled into the brick wall of your building. At least you were home.

"Fuck," You hissed to yourself as you dug through the bag and saw nothing but a dark void. It was an impossible task without the flash on your phone to light the way.

The sound of a car door slamming shut across the street startled you out of your intoxicated rage, causing a few items to tumble from your handbag, including your phone. And there he was again, dressed smartly this time – the mystery man who's name you couldn't quite remember in your drunken state. You turned away and frantically started looking for your keys again, hoping to God he wouldn't come over and see you looking like a complete mess. Famous last thoughts.

"Early night?" His innocent question echoed through the empty street and you closed your eyes, knowing there was no way you could avoid him now – especially since you were locked out of your apartment with nowhere to go.

You bashfully looked up through your fake eyelashes and sent him a lazy smile, "Yeah, didn't quite uhm, end up – end up the way I expected," You managed to stammer through your sentence, hoping he could understand some of what you were saying.

"Well we've all been there... Do you need help?" He asked and looked down at your hands that were full, "Because you've dropped a couple of things in the gutter..."

You looked down and realised you'd dropped not only your phone but also your purse, a powder compact and a small sketchbook, "I'm – I'm a real fucking idiot and I've lost my keys... I think... I think I left them in the uber," You confessed and conceded the obvious. You were locked out of your apartment in the dead of an English winter, dressed like an expensive escort. A disaster.

"Ah, crap. Have you given anyone a spare key?"

The glimmer in his eyes as you looked up from your bag made your heart skip a little in your chest. He was handsome, the curls you’d clocked falling onto his forehead as he stood up, and you couldn't stop staring until he snapped you out of your trance, your name falling effortlessly from his chapped, shivering lips, breath causing a thick fog to form in front of your confused face.

"Oh... uhm, my – my friend... ah shit what's her name?... God, what is wrong with me," You grumbled, breath mingling in the cold air as you rubbed your face, "What's your name again?"

"It's Lando," He kindly replied with a soft chuckle and tucked away the objects he’d picked up for you, knowing there was no way you would be able to do any of that in the state you were in.

“Lando,” You repeated quietly, “Like the star trek dude? I’ve never seen it but… that’s right, right?” Even you could hear your incoherent mumblings, making yourself physically cringe because he was too polite to correct you, “Just stop talking, idiot.” You whispered to yourself, or at least you hoped he didn’t hear you. He did.

"Definitely named after the dude in star trek,” He chuckled softly and scanned the empty street, wondering what the hell he was going to do with a drunk, helpless woman.

He couldn’t leave her like this but he also had plans – a blind date that had been sprung on him and set up by Carlos at the gym. Sure, he had been regretting saying yes to it but he hadn’t been out on a date in months, maybe longer and he was sick of the late night hook up that had become too much of a regular occurrence, though completely random. He wanted more than that, something worth his precious time and he didn’t need the drama that came from the one-night stands. It didn’t even matter how good it felt in the moment. Occupied sheets and empty promises didn’t keep him warm at night. It made him physically ill.

But now he was faced with what was obviously a challenge – a beautiful mess of a rescue mission.

“Look, why don't you come in out of the cold and we'll call your nameless friend who has your spare key?"

Your eyebrows furrowed and you blinked a couple of times before looking at the locked door beside you, "I can't go inside because *hiccup* I've lost my keys... I think I left 'em in that uber... But he was just here, I swear..."

Lando stifled a giggle again and slowly nodded, "Yep, we've been over that but I meant my place. Not sure if you remember this but I live over the street from you... Right there," He gestured towards the opposite building and you rolled your eyes.

"I know that, buddy," You sarcastically retorted, "I'm not stupid." You were slurring up a storm and he simply smiled in response – his patience was commendable.

"My apologies... But I'm freezing and you're turning blue so come on – I promise I'm not a weirdo," He held out his hand and nodded towards his building, blue eyes glimmering under the dim streetlight.

You sighed and linked your icy fingers with his, "You better not be a weirdo..." You rasped and let him guide you over the road, silently enjoying clinging to his muscular bicep and watching his ringlets blowing in the wind.

As you let your entire body weight brush against his arm, you felt something sharp digging into your ribs, a foreign object that you swore wasn’t there before. You stopped in your tracks, leaving Lando confused as you reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a set of keys – "Wow."

“Oops,” You grimaced, goofy grin instantly sweeping across your face when Lando looked down at your hands, chuckling at you as you stumbled out of his grasp, “Guess you don’t get to murder me tonight, Lawrence!”

“Not even close,” He shuffled back with a smile and observed your every move, ready to swoop in if you did stack it in the middle of the street. You were like a baby giraffe, clomping across the damp asphalt in your heels, giggling to nobody. “You know where I live if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah!” You shouted back, trying your best to smoothly exit the situation and from your perspective, you were killing it.

But reality was a cruel, unforgiving beast – and you were failing miserably to play it cool as you toppled through the building door and nearly face-planted into the couch nestled in the foyer. It was a miracle that you didn’t fall, Lando thought as a smitten grin surfaced on his frost bitten cheeks while he walked upstairs to his own apartment, drafting the dreaded ‘sorry I can’t make it' text but feeling no regret at all.

You were all he could think about for the rest of the night – a beautiful hurricane rolling through his life for the briefest of moments, a burst of long wavy hair, trench coat fluttering in the wind and for a second he wished, deep down that maybe you had lost your keys. As quickly as that thought crossed his mind, he shooed it away – knowing already that you were out of his league, hell, you weren’t even playing the same sport. What the fuck was he going to do if he did get you up here, away from civilisation where it was just the two of you? God help him.

From a distance, you seemed sophisticated, witty, chaotic fun – all traits that had him staring at his ceiling, soundlessly wondering when he would see you again. Soon, he hoped.

“Six tequila shots, Jen! We’re celebrating!” You yelled over the loud EDM music blasting through the club, the smell of testosterone and Acqua di gio aftershave mixing in the already thick, humid air.

“Of course, girl! What are we celebrating?” The bartender asked smiling from ear to ear. Jen, who by day was a barista at your local café, had become one of your closest friends in the city and was always cheering you on from the sidelines while serving you the best coffee in London.

“I quit my soul sucking job and told Patrick to shove it up his arse!” You shouted, waving your arms in the air along with your best friend who had insisted on helping commemorate this magnificent occasion, “I finally bit the bullet and did it, Jen and I feel bloody amazing!”

Jen leaned over and grasped your forearms, “Super proud of you, sis. ‘Bout fucking time you did something for yourself.”

You couldn’t argue with that. She was right.

It had been a week since your drunken run in with your neighbour. Humiliating was the first thought that came to mind, head thumping for days following. You hadn’t seen him since that ill-fated night and there was a small part of you that searched for him whenever you left for work, eyes quickly glancing across the street in case fate was working your favour and he was leaving too. Happenstance.

But you were never that lucky and the week had gone from bad to worse at work – your boss had finally lost the plot and you were done, once and for all. No amount of love for your craft was worth being berated by a self-righteous, egotistical arsehole. He’d pushed too far and you were out of there, rucksack haphazardly slung across your shoulders and a smile bigger than the moon on your face. You were free – until the reality of unemployment hit.

London was your home and it had been for the better part of a decade, working at different tattoo parlours, building a solid client list along the way until you’d reached the top and now, finally opting out of the cruel, unrelenting torture that was working under Patrick. Life was too short and your thirties were well underway, that biological clock forever ticking while everyone else seemed to be settling down, buying that dream house with a picket fence. That wasn’t for me, you told yourself so you could sleep at night.

So much of your life was based around career goals and aspiration, so many of those things had been ticked off before your thirtieth birthday last year and it left you wondering where the time had gone. Your twenties had whizzed by faster than your teens and it made that hole in your heart, where you presumed personal goals were supposed to live feel emptier than ever. Especially when those friends you’d stayed in touch with since high school were having their second or third baby, getting married, some for the second time. Where had the time gone?

It was passing you by and even though you gave yourself that pep talk late at night, looking up at your ceiling, questioning whether you would ever find someone to share it all with or if you even wanted that, time continued to tick. Fleeting memories, first dates, and awkward one-night stands – they were all you really had in terms of a love life. The term ‘love life’ was probably over reaching, because if it was a life, it was fucking tragic.

But it was all you had. That and a kickass group of friends who had your back, setting you up with their husbands cute friends, until they turned out to be misogynistic arseholes, or worse – secretly married. In a population of 9 million, you would think there would be a plethora of kind, sweet men but you couldn’t seem to find one. And that led to the one question that did keep you up at night – maybe it’s me. Am I the problem?

“Babe, you’ve got it all. A gorgeous apartment, a beautiful puppy, you’re going to accomplish the dream you’ve had since you were 14 years old! There’s so much going for you that having a guy means nothing. And fuck men, honestly. I’m so glad we’re out here doing this because I’m one wet towel away from killing Jamie,” You couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend, Winnie.

“I’m serious!” And she was, the deadpan expression never faltering as you put your hands up for protection.

“I got you, I’m with you,” You defended, “I guess I just see everything else falling into place, even though my career path is a little murky right now but I’ll work that out… Love is the one thing I can’t figure out. What am I doing wrong?”

Winnie laughed and gripped your shoulder endearingly, “You are hot, like super hot. They are the issue, not you! Okay…” She trailed off and pushed another shot in your direction.

“Tonight’s the night. We are going to find you a cutie, someone fun. And it might just be a meaningless fuck like the rest but let’s deal with that in the morning,” She hiccupped, already tipsy from the shots.

You smiled and sweetly nodded, knowing that her intentions were coming from a good place but stomaching empty promises had become a regular occurrence. You’d lost count of how many guys she’d set you up with or found through dating apps when you went to the bathroom and came back to find her scrolling through, squealing every time a guy she liked matched with you. It all just felt pointless – and a little desperate. Okay, maybe a lot desperate but you appreciated her trying to help.

So you let her pull you through the crowd to where the rest of your friends were standing, all pouring shots down their throats and getting “wild”. A group of women in their early 30s, most with a kid or two or hadn’t been out to a club in months, some years. It was carnage but you appreciated them all coming out to celebrate you. It gave you something to hold onto even when the rest of your personal life was slowly sinking like the titanic, no safety boat in sight.

Until – you heard your name, loud and clearly from behind your friend. The voice was familiar, oddly so, like you’d imagined it somewhere along the lines and it wasn’t real. Lando’s face bobbed up from the side, smile adorning his sweet face, enthusiastic wave quickly followed and you returned it, the same smile too. His cheeks were flushed and eyes slightly bloodshot. You could tell he was tipsy.

“Hello stranger,” You greeted shyly, not knowing how to approach and apologise for the shameful display you showed last weekend. But before you could even get another word out, you were being pulled into a hug, a loose, one arm kind of hug but a hug nonetheless.

He was warm, perspiring ever so slightly as your cheek brushed across his damp neck, no doubt caused by the high humidity inside the club that was pumping. The lingering scent of Dior Sauvage mixed with a woody scented shampoo were notes you picked up on as your arm slipped around his waist, gently giving him a squeeze before you pulled away, half-heartedly.

“Glad you’re alive and well!” Lando shouted over the loud music, still beaming as you leaned in a little closer, “I am so, so, so sorry about last weekend… I’m not usually – well, no sometimes I get a little too heavy handed with my good friends gin and tonic but that was next level and not at all who I am typically… Just yeah, super embarrassed!”

Lando nodded empathetically, “Don’t be. You were, and I mean this is the nicest possible way; you were the most entertaining part of my week… So you’re drinking gin and tonic, yeah?” He asked, glancing down at your empty hands before turning to the bartender and hailing him over.

“Just a gin and tonic and a corona, please mate.”

Lando swivelled back your way, still grinning while he took in your surroundings, “Girls night out?” He asked, curious as to why you were out with your friends.

“Sort of,” You began to explain before graciously accepting the drink he had bought you, “I quit my crappy job and they insisted we celebrate – but between you and me, I think they’re just bored of their husbands and kids." Your whisper made him laugh, that serotonin boost lighting up your senses again, just like it did a week ago when you first met. Sparks flying.

“Makes sense," He nodded with a furrowed brow, looking serious before cracking a smile, "Congrats on quitting your shitty job, I’m sure your boyfriends here celebrating with you too, no?”

There was a glint in his eyes as they scanned the room and landed back on yours, eagerly awaiting your response. You didn’t give it to him straight away, letting him stew on that question for a couple seconds longer than humane, until he took a sip of his beer, finding something to occupy himself with while you left him there hanging.

“No boyfriend.”

Your answer was simple – to the point and Lando appreciated that as he let go of the deep sigh rattling around in his chest. Was he being nosy? Absolutely but he was also hedging his bets, knowing that if you did have a boyfriend and you looked like that then he wouldn’t have his two front teeth by the end of the night. He had to know for certain before he bought you another drink. And definitely before he asked you to dance.

There was barely a millimetre, if that between your body and his, only losing the warmth of his embrace when he twirled you around, giggling like teenagers who were superficially falling in love for the night. Your friend was the one who broke up the party, insisting that she said goodbye to you before leaving to relieve her babysitter.

“Everyone’s gone home and I think I’m gonna head off too,” She yelled before tugging you closer, “But have fun with your boy toy,” She whispered into your ear, her smirk telling as you pulled back and rolled your eyes.

“Stop it. It’s just a bit of harmless dancing,” You scoffed in return, but she’d known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper, practically experiencing all of life’s milestones in tandem – until she found her prince charming and had his babies, a betrayal like no other.

“Sure, sure,” She winked because she knew that there was a 90% chance that you wouldn’t make it home, or if you did, it was only because your place was closer than his, “Call me tomorrow morning when you get home.”

The cheek, you thought as she strutted off into the crowd, disappearing into the stormy London night. You were at a crossroads, standing in the middle of the club and searching the room for Lando. He’d given you space to speak with your friend, a subtle sign of respect while he rushed to the bathroom and splashed his face with water.

Get it together, he muttered, cursing his rosy cheeks and uncooperative curls, the bundle of ringlets gathering like a nest on the crown of his head. He didn’t want to look shabby in front of you, especially since he'd identified your expensive perfume and had noticed the red-bottomed heels adorning your feet. You were the uptown girl they were talking about in that song, the tune now on the tip of his tongue as he pushed through the bathroom door, whistling along to the silent song stuck in his head.

And there you were, lost in the crowd, searching. He wondered for a second whether you were looking for him or if your friend had just come over to tell you something and she was coming back. But when your eyes met, you smiled big. Grinning and relieved to see those bright blue eyes drawing you in from across the room, a familiar face to ease your nerves. You glided to him like a magnet magically pulling you both to the halfway point, hands immediately reaching, needy to feel the others touch again.

Winnie’s words rang in your ears, so sure of herself and what she knew about you. Your bad habits. You wanted to spite her and bid Lando farewell but when you watched his tongue swiping across his pouty bottom lip and that boyish smile tug at the corners of his mouth again, you were done for – hook, line and sinker.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

click here for part two

a/n – i really hope you enjoyed the 7k word introduction *facepalm* to this mini-series – it got away from me a little bit but i'm excited about exploring long form writing on tumblr so follow for updates and lmk what you think so far!

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #lando norris one shot #formula 1 one shot #f1 #f1 x reader #monzamashmasterlist #what could've been fic #monzamash #lando norris x you

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triple-asstro · 1 year

Text

word count: 1.9k

pairing: 2012!leo x reader

tags: valentines fluff, comedy, tooth-rotting fluff, gift-giving, leo being leo

summary: you're lonely on Valentine's Day, babysitting Chloe, the little girl you've babysat for as long as you can remember. During your babysitting adventure, an unexpected visitor arrives.

ao3

song: Shameless - Camilla Cabello

“You’re really babysitting on Valentines Day?”

You sighed, placing another hefty textbook into your locker. Valentines Day was quite the event, especially when you’re in school. Gigantic rose bouquets and lavish chocolate assortments, or as fancy as high-school money could buy were expected, as well as your lack of both objects. Thankfully, instead of waiting out the holiday alone at your house, you were tasked with babysitting a young girl named Chloe; a regular for you.

“Yes, I am,” you answered as your friend sighed exaggeratingly, leaning their head against the adjacent locker.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me all by my lonesome…”

“Oh god,” you mumbled, staring into their eyes with a look of disbelief at both the situation and their exaggerated misery.

“On Valentines Day, no less!” they exclaimed, placing a hand on their forehead. “Who are you babysitting again? Is it Chelsea or Stacy?”

“Chloe,” you stated, closing your locker door and walking down the hallway, your friend already following in tow. “Her name’s Chloe, it’s this kid I’ve been babysitting for quite a while now. Her parents are going out for dinner and they need me.”

“Of course they do, you’re their saviour,” your friend teased, shaking their hands in a jazzy manner. You chuckled, playfully shoving their shoulder as you approached a dark steel blue door until you noticed their sudden silence. Your arm was suddenly yanked and quickly observed.

“What is this?” your friend asked, eyeing the new accessory you had on your wrist. It was a handmade bracelet with aquamarine beads and tiny crochet hearts. It was a certain gift from a certain blue-banded Leo. “Where did you get this from?”

“I got it from one of my friends… Just don’t ruin it!”

“Oh yeah right, your friend… What’s their name?” they asked. You said nothing. “C’mon, how old are they? What do they look like? Do they have blonde hair, or brown? Were you planning something with them tonight?”

“Slow down! I wasn’t gonna plan anything with them…”

“Yeah, like I believe that,” your friend cheered, patting you hard on the back. “Well, looks like you’re missing out on a movie marathon filled with popcorn and tears. Another toast to an extended galentines!”

“Right…” you said, waving goodbye to your friend as they ran down the hallway. One thing you didn’t tell your eager friend was that you, in fact, did have plans on Valentines Day. One with a certain blue-banded Leo. Unfortunately, you both had to cancel due to conflicting plans and while the delay wasn’t planned, it still left a lasting hurt in your heart. Hopefully, the joys of babysitting could take your mind off of it.

“Thank you so much, I promise we’ll be back by nine at the latest,” Chloe’s mom said as her head was stuck out of the door. “I’m sorry you had to cancel your plans for this…”

“It’s alright Ms Williams, just make it back safe,” you answered.

“Aw, aren’t you a sweetheart?” she asked, tilting her head askew. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Thank you a million for this!”

“Bye!” you said. As the apartment door shut, you turned around, bending your knees so you could face the petite child. Her parents had dressed her up in an adorable light blue dress and tied her sandy-blonde hair into a ponytail.

“So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie?”

“I was having a tea party with my stuffies in my room, do you wanna join?” she invited, already taking your hands and dragging you to her room. You nodded politely, knowing any form of resistance would be futile as she opened the door to her room. The walls were still the same blandish yellow with floral patterns when Chloe was six and the flooring still had an echoing creak anytime you walked on it with the slightest of pressure. Soft classical music played from a distant music player as she ushered you onto a tiny plastic chair, sitting down on an opposing one.

“Would you like some tea, Missus/Sir/Mx.?” Chloe asked in a stereotypical French accent.

“Yes, Miss Chloe. I would love a cuppa’ tea,” you answered, slightly laughing to yourself as she got up and carried a tiny tray with plastic teapots and small heart-shaped cookies. She carefully picked up the teapot and poured cold tea into your pink-coloured cup.

“Hmm,” you said, sipping a small portion of your tea. “It’s quite exquisite, bravo Chloe!”

“What does that mean?”

“Exquisite means great, Chloe,” you said as she sat down and took a sip for herself, eyes widening at the taste. The tea tastes like sweet berries and had a surprisingly minty aftertaste, which you, unfortunately, found out the hard way when you tried to drink water afterwards. As you picked up a frosted cookie, you took a bite out of it, the sweetness filling your mouth.

“Can I ask you something Ms/Mr/Mx Y/N?”

“Hm?” you mumbled, swallowing the remaining cookie crumbs in your mouth. “Of course, Chloe.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on the invisible cookie, hacking up a storm. As you desperately attempted to drink water, Chloe had a worried expression on her face.

“Are you okay, Ms/Mr/Mx Y/N?”

“Yes, of course. Why do you want to know that?”

“My mom said you had to cancel something and they’re going on a date. Do you have a date with your boyfriend?”

Your mind was drawing complete blanks. How exactly were you supposed to explain that your boyfriend was a mutant turtle? You kept stammering and starting sentences only to pause and reset. How could you explain this?

“Well, if you want to know,” you said, leaning in closer into a whisper. “You have to promise me you can’t tell anyone.”

“I promise!” she exclaimed, crossing her finger across her heart. “Princess’s honour.”

“Alright,” you chuckled. “My boyfriend is a superhero.”

Chloe’s eyes widened when you pulled away, sparkling with curiosity and excitement. “Really? He’s a superhero?”

“Yep, the greatest. A fearless leader, too.”

“I have a friend like that too, but my mom says he’s imaginary.” Chloe pouted.

“Imaginary? Tell me about this friend…” you inquired.

“He’s a hero too! And he’s a fearless leader too, with a blue mask! I call him Mister Turtle,” Chloe said, pouring another cup for herself, unknowing as you felt your brain connect the dots. It felt like a slap to the back of your head as you unknowingly froze in shock.

“Ms/Mr/Mx Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Hm?” you said, snapping your head back towards Chloe. “Oh, yeah, I’m alright. I wish I could meet this Mr Turtle…”

As you said those words, a loud crash echoed behind Chloe, destroying the window. You instantly rushed in front of her, protecting her from any sort of danger. As the smoke slowly cleared, you saw quite the sight. You didn’t expect to find Leo, bandaged and bruised on Chloe’s fluffy carpeted floor, face practically buried in it. You wish you could say something, but you couldn’t force the words out no matter how hard you tried. Leo slowly rose his head up, dazed in confusion, until he caught your face in the smoke and his eyes grew in surprise.

“Mr Turtle, you’re late to the tea party!” Chloe remarked, dragging him up and placing him on a spare stool. She then made her way to you, dragging you with her tiny hand back into your seat.

“Mr Turtle, this is my friend, Y/N! She babysits me.”

“I - well - it’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” Leo stammered. He hasn’t been the best liar, but by the looks of it, it was good enough to fool a nine-year-old girl.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you greeted, holding out your hand and waiting for Leo to take it into his. His eyes stared at your hand before grabbing it, and giving a firm handshake. You awkwardly sat back in your chair as an uncomfortable silence engulfed the room.

“Well, I have to go-”

“You can’t go now Mr. Turtle! You have to stay for special Valentines Day cookies!” Chloe demanded, rushing outside the door and into the kitchen, leaving you two alone.

“I’m taking you’re the ‘Mr. Turtle’ Chloe’s talking about?”

“I didn’t know you were her babysitter! You never really specified when you said you were babysitting somebody.”

“Yeah I didn’t, but this is quite the coincidence, isn’t it?” you teased, seeing him shyly avert his gaze. He’d always been this bashful, especially considering romantic relationships. As soon as you came along, that cool composed leader facade faded like sunshine appearing from behind rainy fog; as well as the sudden appearance of three teasing brothers.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you said, reaching into your backpack and pulling out a tiny box with a red bow on top. “Happy surprise Valentines Day, Leo.”

He took the box from your hands and slowly unwrapped the bow, placing it off to the side. When he opened the top, he saw a tiny piece of light blue cloth and a picture frame, which was facing down. He placed the contents on the table and observed each of them. First, he flipped over the picture frame, bedazzled with small plastic diamonds, which contained a photo of you both in the snow, bundled up like toddlers with lovesick grins and laying on the snowy grass.

“That photo was the best photo I’ve ever taken in my life, and it’s your first snow day. So, I wanted to commemorate that.”

“Thank you,” he said, placing the frame close to his heart. Then, he picked up the piece of cloth, turning it over to see his name, sewn with black yarn, and hearts all around it. “What is this for?”

“Okay, hear me out,” you said, Leo already giggling. “Listen! Okay, since you always say that I’m your other half, I’m your ride or die, tsuki ga kirei desu ne - so, I was thinking you could wrap this on your katana handle - ”

“The tsuka?”

“Yeah, that, and you could always have that with you. I’m not going to always be stuck to your hip all the time so this could be a sort of a stand-in. So I’ll always be there, even though I’m not there.”

Silence encompassed the room, and you slowly panicked inside. Was the gift too corny? Was it too much? Did he not like it? All those thoughts consumed your mind until you saw tiny tears trickle down Leo’s face.

“Leo! Are you alright? I’m sorry if you don’t like it - ”

“No, no, I love it. Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, getting up from his seat and rushing over, embracing you in a hug.

“I’m glad you do, fearless leader,” you cooed, swaying him back and forth in your arms as you felt him chuckle against your body.

“I have cookies!”

Both of you pulled away to see Chloe, back with a plate of heart-shaped cookies with red icing. As she placed the cookies down on the table, you both went back to your seats, lovesick grins on your faces.

“Ms/Mr/Mx Y/N? Can you do a toast?” Chloe asked.

“May you say please?” you asked, looking at Chloe with teasing eyes.

“Pleasee?”

“That’s it, okay,” you chuckled, raising a cookie high into the air. “To us, who have to celebrate this Valentines Day alone. But we have each other, and that’s good enough.”

“Cheers!”

#leonardo hamato #leonardo x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt leonardo #2012 leo x reader

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rhiezus · 2 years

Note

(🌙) My muse comes over to your muse’s house/room to spend the night. // evie x sunny

evellyn wasn't someone of many words, in fact, she firmly believed that actions speak louder than words and so far, sunny was pretty much the same. so when she invited her over to spend the night, both of them knew exactly that they wouldn't spend the time talking. there wasn't anything wrong with two girls having a slumber party, but that was for friends who had no feeling whatsoever for each other. evellyn felt completely numbed when she was around sunny, not only because she was probably one of the most pretty girls she had ever seen, but because she also has one of the most brilliant minds she ever could get a glimpse of. which was funny because they met by chance and kept all of their relationship by chance itself, they didn't exactly move mountains to be together, they didn't need desperate displays of affection and big long speeches of affirmation. it was there, the feeling of just wanting to be together was there and for them, that seemed to matter at all just fine.

she also didn't have to put on her best pajamas for it, in fact, evellyn wasn't gracious at all, she had just gone jogging for the night and all her roommates were chilling in their rooms because it was past nine am and everyone was tired, but evellyn wasn't. evellyn couldn't even take a nap as she planned to do before sunny came, her thoughts were clouded and anxious, hence the jogging and the misfitted way her hair looked right now. she gave sunny a little tour of her bedroom in hushed voices, her roommates were past caring who they bring to the dorm and it also wasn't sunny's first time being over. it probably was for that matter though, one that was implied from the moment she invited her. she heard the other being polite, but she wasn't tired at all, her eyes glued to sunny's figure caressing her bookshelves and trying to examine the thoughts behind evie's mind and the books she read over the years. mostly fiction about corrupted worlds and mindless romances with idiotic heroines and stupid gangs that stick together despite it all.

there was no point in pretending how much she wanted her, how much she needed her, and how much she cared for her. evellyn launched herself behind sunny and hugged her back, her head resting in the perfect position to hear her heart beating from a calm to a faster pace. it was completely comforting but also, not enough. "you're so soft... and smell, of softener." that probably wasn't the cleverest thing she had said at all, but it was meant well. she disentangled herself from her to let the other turn around and for their eyes to meet before they could smile, broad smiles like two little kids who had just found out they want to make a promise to keep being friends forever. should she bring sunny a friendship bracelet? something cute and vain, just to tell her she wanted to make her hers. "you're lucky i wanted you to come, can't hide in your room forever. also, mine is edgier, way cooler." she wasn't lying, evellyn had a keen for decorations and she spent a lot of time and money making her room look like a home and she was proud of all of it, not only the room but the whole apartment she shared with her friends.

and she wanted sunny to feel welcomed in her life as well, she wanted sunny to be a part of it, not fully but to the extent that the other wanted to be just enough for both of them. evellyn gave in to the feeling of wanting to taste her and kissed sunny on the lips, again and again, and again, until they were both stumbling on their feet and trying to keep their breaths and hearts on time. but it proved quite an impossible task because sooner than ever evellyn was pinning the girl to her bed, trying so hard not to laugh at the way her hair fell directly into their mouths. "sorry, sorry." she said, giggling a little bit, moving it away with her fingers and then proceeding to distribute pecks all over her neck. "we'll just have to keep quiet, okay? do you think we can do that?" her voice gave away all the breath she was still holding, not even close to disguising how red and flustered she was becoming anticipating everything they were about to do.

#evellyn x sunny #yes i had to make that gif #i dont regret a single thing #also this was the easiest and most quick ask i wrote #out of everyone #fucking hell yeah #i blame first kill ofc #but also its very well due for me to write them #im sorry #evellyn.

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 2 years

Text

Bryan Kneef: Breaking Point, Part Four

Word Count: 2350

TW: Dub con (a kiss); mild violence (Bryan gets slapped). 18+ only to be safe.

AN: Part four of a nine part series. Other parts can be found here.

Christmas was only two weeks away, and throughout the firm, offices started going dark. Depending on the department, STR Laurie could be generous with their end-of-year time off. Depending on the department…and the litigator who led it.

Offices were going dark, people were leaving for the rest of the year, but Bryan Kneef’s department was fully staffed and working the same grinding hours as ever. You were glad you were going to leave within a few months, hopefully shuffled off to work under a more sympathetic manager which - considering how ill-mannered and impolite Bryan was – wouldn’t be much of a task.

Still, you and your coworkers tried to make it as cheerful as possible. You ordered in and took group lunches together. You decorated your desks and the shared spaces, like the copier room and the conference rooms. You planned your own department-only holiday party at a nearby pub for the weekend, with a gift swap.

“Should we invite the boss?” asked Caleb, another paralegal. He turned and glanced at Bryan’s closed office door and frowned a little.

You thought about it. It would be rude to not invite him, but Bryan forewent any polite societal rules. Even on good days, he was sarcastic, and he’d been increasingly rude and downright mean as the holiday season approached. If it hurt his feelings that he wasn’t invited (a mighty big if, since you assumed Bryan didn’t have feelings), tough shit. You hated to see anyone left out, but Bryan had used up any warm, seasonal feelings you may have had for him.

What did he say at the STR Laurie party? We aren’t friends.

“Nah,” you told Caleb. “We’re beneath him anyway.”

*****

Bryan had his admin put a meeting on his calendar with you for late Wednesday. You were hard to read: furious when you had thrown snowballs at him, coolly snide when he went to your apartment to ask you to return to work. Tooth-achingly sweet at the holiday party, until he soured the moment and ran you off. You seemed friendly and easy-going with others around the office. It was hard to know which side was the real you.

He was certain of one thing: if he didn’t find you a new placement by the end of January – February at the very latest – you would leave the firm. Bryan had already lost two other people this month. H.R. was getting clued in to his lack of people skills. He would readily admit that he only had a modicum of charm. His success in his career was due to a certain cut-throat demeanor that was nearly a cliché for lawyers. His success with women was due to his money and his looks.

Still, maybe he could use that small bit of charm now.

You came into his office and shut the door, and you started to sit in the chair across from his desk, but Bryan stood up and gestured at the couch instead. He reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Macallan Rare Cask, holding it up to you in an unasked question. You shook your head, and you watched him pour a double into the coffee mug – World’s Okayest Boss – that you and his team had gotten him. He noticed you watching him, noticed you noticing the mug in use, but your face remained blank, giving him nothing.

He picked up your personnel file and joined you on the couch, noting the way you shifted a few inches away from him as he sat.

He sipped his bourbon and looked you over closer. You had a standard uniform for the office: pencil skirt, thick stockings (in the winter only), button-down shirt, everything in bland neutrals. A strand of pearls (probably fake) peeked out from where your collar gaped open a bit. Pearl studs in your ears, also likely fake.

Your sole nod to personal taste were your colorful flats (nearly childish, and they put him in mind of the shiny, plastic shoes his half-sister used to be crammed into for family portraits) and your perfume. If Bryan leaned forward and took a deep breath, he could just make out the subtle, earthy scent of vetiver. He preferred his women to smell like women – sweet or floral or powdery – but it suited you, somehow.

“Why didn’t you go to law school?” he asked, blunt, as he flipped open your file. “You took your LSATs. Did really well.”

You shrugged at him. “I changed my mind about law school.”

Bryan tapped on the top page of your file – your updated resume. “There’s an unexplained gap between graduation and work. Why?”

That got a reaction: your eyes narrowed a bit and you pursed your lips. “Personal reasons,” was all you offered.

“Explain.”

“They’re personal.”

Bryan took a sip of his bourbon and narrowed his own eyes back at you. “Pretend we’re friends after all. Let’s chat about the year between graduating from undergrad and getting a job with – “ He broke off to consult your resume. “ – Keller, Morgan, and Morgan.”

It made you snort. “If we were friends, you’d already know that about me. I’m pretty open with my friends.”

“Quid pro quo then. You tell me, and I’ll tell you something personal about my life.”

That made you laugh – an honest, surprised laugh that made you throw your head back. “I think I have a pretty good read on your life, but okay. I’ll bite.” Your face turned serious, and you added, “I had a family member get sick.”

“Wait,” he said, holding up his hand. “What do you mean, you have a good read on my life?”

You gave that same shrug of yours, a lazy sort of “what can you do?” gesture. “You know…”

“I don’t,” he replied, his jaw tightening. “Enlighten me.”

“Okay.” You turned and faced him a little on the couch, studied his face. “You have some glib little motto you live by, like work hard, play hard or live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse. Something like that. Everything is calculated. The right job, the right condo at the right address, the right car. The right woman for the right moment.”

“That’s called success,” he retorted sarcastically. “Stellar profiling.”

“But what no one knows, maybe not even you – it doesn’t make you happy. You’re miserable. Which is why you take it out on everyone around you. You don’t lash out at people at your level or higher. You’d never dare speak to the senior partners the way you speak to us. Which makes you a bully. And bullies are, almost always, miserable with themselves first and foremost.”

“You sound like a fucking after-school special.”

You tilted your head and peered at him a little closer. “So you are unhappy.”

“The fuck I am.” He drained off the rest of his bourbon and plunked the mug down on the coffee table, and he turned to face you. “I pull in six figures. I have a condo that overlooks the fucking lake. I’m a member of the Sky-Line Club. What was the other thing you said? The right woman for the right moment? Yeah, I’ll give you that one. After this, I could head to the Underground or the Aviary and have any woman I want, just like that.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“Oooh,” you replied. “I’m sure your date for the evening is just enthralled by your personality too.”

“Personality is just a nice word to give ugly people hope,” he informed you. And because your assessment of him hit just a little too close to home, especially in light of the brewing disaster with Cara and the St. Kitts trip, he looked you over pointedly and added, “For example, I imagine you have a sparkling personality.”

The slap came so fast and so hard that Bryan swore he never even saw it. His head whipped to the side, and fuck if it doesn’t make some of the blood in his body turn southward. Maybe he had an unexplained pain kink he never realized before.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, and Bryan turned back to face you. Your color was high, just like the night of the snowball fight, but your eyes were narrowed to slits. You weren’t just fed up like before – now you were furious.

Just like the night of the snowball fight, he found himself getting unexpectedly turned on. The longer the moment stretched between the two of you – him staring at you, you staring back with your hand half-raised to deal him another slap – the harder he got. If your eyes drifted down to his lap, the situation would become clear to you. But you only glared at him, your eyes boring into his own.

He ached for you to hit him again. Call him an asshole. Hold him accountable for his own unforgivable behavior.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he said in his most insouciant tone. “I’ve fucked plenty of girls with personality.”

You did it – you raised your hand again, but some self-defense part of his lizard brain made him catch your wrist in mid-swing…and then some cave-man part of him used your own momentum against you, yanked you forward into him, and he caught your mouth, half-open in surprise, with his own.

Bryan swore there was a moment when you kissed him back. Between the gasp of surprise against his mouth and the moment you shoved him away, a scandalized look on your face. There was a moment, brief though it was, where you seemed to melt into his grasp, and where your own tongue crept out to lick against his own mouth.

He swore he felt your hand on his chest, palm flat against shirt, achingly close to a loving gesture but not quite.

But then you were shoving him away, and trying to stand, and Bryan had to tighten his grip on your wrist, and suddenly he was worried that he was bruising your wrist, holding you too tight, holding you against your will…shit, this was bad. Bryan was good, a top litigator, but he wasn’t invincible and he wasn’t irreplaceable. A sweet little paralegal, sporting a bruised wrist and an angry flush of red from where his beard rubbed against her mouth, could march into H.R.…

“What the fuck, Bryan?” you yelled. You yanked your wrist out of his hand just as he was letting it go, and you flailed backwards, momentarily unsteady, before you righted yourself.

He didn’t answer. The enormity of the situation was dawning on him, and he only muttered “fuck” to himself before standing up and striding to his desk for the bourbon and a clean glass. He sank into his chair and poured a shot, tossed it back, and poured another. It was early evening – everyone else was likely gone for the day. And his office door was closed. Fuck. Fuck.

Long moments passed, and the office was thick with tension. Bryan hung his head, focused on his glass of bourbon. He chanced a look at you – you were still on the couch, your face flushed, your eyes fixed on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and the word practically stuck in his throat despite the truth of it. He was sorry. He hated how Marcus, a fellow litigator, took liberties with his interns. He hated men who did that at all, felt a sick twist in his stomach. Bryan preferred to make women beg him for it, yet here he was – forcing himself on you. A sweet little paralegal, truth be told, who he had insulted out of sport and then assaulted. It made the bourbon churn in his gut.

“It’s…it’s fine,” you finally answered. You reached up, maybe unconsciously, and wiped your mouth, and that hurt some point of his pride too, the thought that he had been disgusting, had tasted disgusting to you.

He didn’t say anything. He watched as you reached down and picked up your personnel file, its contents scattered on the floor from when it slipped off of his lap. He watched you reassemble it, and then you stood and carried it over to him.

“We can pretend it never happened,” you murmured as you sat the file on his desk. “We both acted in ways that could get both of us fired.” When Bryan arched an eyebrow in confusion, you pointed vaguely at his face. “I hit you. Assault.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “I doubt any jury would blame you, once you march out character witnesses.”

That made you smile – a real one, it seemed. “Well, when all you have is personality going for you, it helps to cultivate a mean right hook.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He didn’t apologize for it, of course (one “I’m sorry” was his absolute limit for the month). And he didn’t elaborate that of course you weren’t ugly. You didn’t have the high-polish and poise of his usual conquests (those awful flats of yours, for example), but you were appealing in a down-to-earth way. Certainly none of Bryan’s past girlfriends would ever slap him so hard, since they would risk marring their manicures.

“It’s fine,” you repeated. You glanced over your shoulder at the door, probably yearning for an exit from this terrible, awkward moment. You turned back to face him. “Can I go?”

Bryan nodded, and he watched you leave. He sat there a long time afterwards – long after you gathered your coat and left, long after the sick churning in his gut receded. It would probably be fine after all. You had hit him, and STR Laurie had a zero tolerance policy about workplace violence. You mutual bad behaviors could cancel the other’s out.

So he thought about the kiss instead: the way you tasted like peppermint, probably from those candy canes you were always sucking on thanks to the season. The way your pulse had jumped in your wrist, circled by his hand.

The moment where he swore you kissed him back.

#bryan kneef #bryan kneef imagine #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef x you #the good fight #the good fight fanfiction #tropes-and-tales

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ourtrudream · 2 years

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Family Vacation, love it or hate it, I hate it

The biggest guarantee I'd have was that this summer would probably be the last in some time I'd spend with my family members. My parents' ruined marriage, which they insisted on continuing for the sake of appearances, was one of the main things I wanted to let go of. College was about to end, and I already had a job in mind, far from New York City.

Of course I would miss the bustling city, the routine I had built up since I was a child, but I no longer wanted to settle for something superfluous and extravagant. My next stop was Sweden, a small business in considerable growth where I had already headed, a friend from college was from Stockholm and had been invited by his friend to participate. My field was graphic design, a little html and more, I participated in many projects focused on these areas during my short life of 24 years.

As I packed my bags for this latest madness that is spending the summer with my parents at their beach house, along with my older sister and younger brother, my brothers were nice at times, but not my favorite environment. , that was a fact, it reminded me of my last trip there. My parents throwing parties to build a good image for my mother's campaign, she was fighting to become mayor of the town, and probably would soon if everyone behaved well (as she puts it). The family hadn't always been like this, kind of clueless and loving, but maybe it doesn't even matter now, at least not for me.

I closed the suitcase after checking everything I had put on my list, I had a really bad memory for everyday things, I always needed small lists in my cell phone's notepad. “Calling Deborah asking to feed the fish” was my next task, and that's what I did. The day passed slowly, and I was already ready to get in my car and drive for 4 hours until I arrived, some stops were going to be made to enjoy the best of a trip, the food.

"And when you come back?" Deborah chattered on the phone, I'd be back in at least 3 weeks, bursting. She would take care of my last surviving fish in my aquarium. As I loaded my huge suitcase into the trunk of my car, Deborah was talking to me about her day. She was an actress and would probably be on the next CW series, she was sure and I didn't doubt it, she's always been really good at getting what she wants, and I thought that was amazing, a lot of self-confidence.

-I hope God helps me in these coming weeks, I need to have my mental health up to date for the last period of this college.

-Everything will be fine, nothing that a shot of whiskey before bed won't solve, sis. She said making me laugh as she drove into the dusk, I would get there after dinner, that was the plan. My mother would complain, of course, but I would at least skip an hour of political blah blah that always went on at dinner in that house.

Just before nine o'clock at night I arrived at the Retz estate, the home where I spent 80% of my childhood summers. It was made of white painted wood with black accents, nowadays it looks more modern than before, maybe it was the glass walls of our porch. Three cars in the garage, my brothers were probably already in the area. Two floors, a swimming pool, flowered garden, gym, 7 suites and lots of family trinkets. My favorite part was the pool area which was surrounded by plants and flowers, which gives everything a tropical vibe. Brianna was the first to meet me as soon as I opened the door, she was 6 years older than me, but she looked the same age as me, we were never best friends, but politeness always prevailed. She was a model, she lived in a world totally outside my reality.

#fanfic #fan fic #mads mikkelsen #imagine #awakening of sumer #cap 1

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ledenews · 8 months

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#belmontcounty #BobNey #BrookeCounty #MarshallCounty #ohiocounty #UpperOhioValley #USCongress #wheeling

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csuitebitches · 3 years

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Setting boundaries : Saying NO

Setting boundaries can be difficult. It’s easier said than done, and often, when the situation changes, our boundaries seem to change too.

That guy who you can’t get out of your mind ghosted you for two weeks, so you decided to forget about him - now he’s texting you again. And your boundaries? Forgotten.

Someone who you don’t particularly like keeps asking you for dinner. What do you do? Reluctantly go against your will.

You’re placed in a position where you either have to betray your actual self for the validation or fear of upsetting someone else.

Boundary setting wasn’t easy for me, either. I used to be a very shy child - saying no was impossible.

Here’s how I’ve grown from that mindset:

1. Tell yourself saying no is cool.

I don’t know why repeating this to myself had a positive effect, but it did.

“Saying no makes you cool.”

Practice with small situations to be able to cope with larger ones.

- saying no for a second/ third helping at dinner

- saying no if you’re not in the mood to drink or smoke

- saying no if you don’t like what the salesperson is showing you

Unfortunately we live in a world where saying no is very slowly being accepted as “polite.” Had this been taught to us as children, it would’ve been easier to handle as adults.

2. Tell yourself this is a simulation.

Sometimes it’s very difficult to say certain things that you want to say. I like to tell myself that I’m in a video game or a tv show and that this is just what I’m supposed to say. “No.”

3. Anticipate the future responses.

A lot of people think that saying no is an opportunity to convince you to say yes.

“Would you like to drink?”

“No, thank you - I’d rather be sober tonight.”

“What! Why? It’s a party! Have you tried this wine? It’s seriously so good, have a couple of sips!”

I think this mentality comes from toxic hustle culture - “never accept no!” “Keep grinding!” “Try again and again even if you fail!” - so you need to anticipate this.

For this reason, keep your guard up. Nine out of ten times, the person who’s asking you is going to persist. Be prepared for it.

Here’s a couple of tips:

- Make a slight face and say “no thanks.” If you look hesitant, they WILL convince you further.

- Be very confident. Keep your posture straight. Shoulders broad. Have a neutral expression when they try to convince you.

- thank them at the end. In my experience, I’ve noticed that if I thank them for “being understanding”, they immediately drop it. Why? Because you’ve given them the validation they need.

“What! Why? It’s a party! Have you tried this wine? It’s seriously so good, have a couple of sips!”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m really not in the mood to drink tonight, thank you for looking out though!”

4. If you’re going to go to an event, or you’re going to have a difficult conversation with someone- plan it out.

Let’s say I have to confront a cheating boyfriend. Here’s what I’d write down in my Notes app:

‘He’s cheated on me with X on X date, at X venue.

He’s going to deny it at first. I need to stay calm and persistent, and not back down.

He’s going to try to convince me that I’m crazy. This is the phase I know I’m getting through to him, because he’s changing his tactics. Again, I need to be as blank faced as possible and refuse to give in.

He’s going to then try to emotionally manipulate me. He may blackmail or bring up the past. He may tell me that I don’t trust him. He’ll try to push the blame on ME.

I have to be aware of how he’s going to react. I need to be calm, absolutely calm until he breaks and confesses everything.

My goal of this conversation is to get him to confess and break up with him.”

Planning it like this helps, because now you have something secure. Here’s a guideline for the same :

1. Describe the situation briefly. (What happened exactly? What do you know? What have other people told you? Do you have evidence?)

2. Note down how you think they’ll react. Would they get defensive or angry? Would they lie? What would YOU do if you were in their place? (Come up with all possible scenarios).

3. Write down solutions for every situation.

“If X starts lying, I’ll say this : “____”.”

“If X denies it, I’ll bring up this screenshot.”

“If X starts to blame someone else, I’ll wait until they’re done speaking and then tell them I already spoke to that person.”

4. What is the goal of this conversation?

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syndxlla · 3 years

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Part nine of the More to Love series

Summary: Plans for the ball are in full swing, the concealment of your relationship with the knight dwindles and you make a deal with one another that leads to both of you learning a new and valuable skill

Word Count: 8.9k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (oral sex F receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms), swearing, mentions of wounds

Author’s Note: and we’re back to your regularly scheduled royalty and princesscore writings. this chapter is very chill honestly, but i still really enjoyed writing it! there’s also the introduction of THE DRESS. y’all this dress is insane you really aren’t ready i am OBSESSED with this dress.

Part eight

“Are you listening, Princess?” You hadn’t even realized you had zoned out. Your cheek was bright red from resting against your palm, and your eyes had glazed over with boredom. You hoped you didn’t look too uninterested, but considering the literal Queen of Mandalore looked down at you with folded arms and one arched eyebrow, you were less than confident that you looked engrossed in the conversation.

The Queen, Lady Reeves and yourself have been inside a yellow-themed parlor all morning discussing plans for the ball. Your Knight stood patiently by the door, overseeing the entire meeting. You wore a long sleeve dress that was too hot for the summer sun, which was slowly drying out the mud and puddles from then two-day long rainstorm that no one predicted. You spent the entire day yesterday pretending to rest from the exhausting day previous, but you were really hiding your arm from everyone else. You tried to argue with Koska that a long sleeve in the middle of summer would look for more suspicious than a simple bandage on your bicep, but she disagreed to say the least. The Knight stopped limping this morning, although you were convinced he was just faking it for good measure. If others knew he was injured, it could raise suspicion that you were too. You also think he didn’t want you to worry about him. The stab wound really wasn’t that deep, but you knew it had to have hurt more than he was showing. You thought he should take a few days off to rest his leg and to really spend time with his son, but he refused to.

You look up from your emotionless stare out the window, which showed the sea in the distance. The ocean was so different here compared to what it’s like in Corellia. There are sandy beaches and the water’s warm, whereas back home, it’s often frozen over, and is lined with rocky fjords and coves. You wanted to go down to one of those beaches soon if you could. They looked relaxing and much more intruiging than a wordy meeting that you stopped listening in on Lord knows when.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out for a minute.” You clear your throat, looking up at the ginger above you. You bat your eyelashes, trying do play off innocent and truthful. She shrugged, and turned around to pull something out of Koska’s hands.

“I was saying that now that we have the food and decor arranged for the ball, we can talk about the important things.” She says as she whips around for the big reveal that you weren’t expecting: iher arms was the most extravagant, fluffy gown you had ever seen. It was a soft rose gold, the skirt was huge and round, tulle pillowing out from the bodice which had clearly been hand-beaded by nimble fingers to have five-pedaled flowers with curly vines growing out of them. There was a soft sweet-heart neckline, the lace and beading of the bodice came up past the structure to overlap where your skin would be, The sleeves were off the shoulder, which was common for Mandalorian summer gowns. The skirt had a soft hint of sparkles and real diamonds had been sewn into the centers of each flower along the gown.

You perked up as you saw the ornament, your attention being drawn from the crashing waves of the ocean to the prettiest dress you had ever seen. You think you sighed, but you weren’t really sure. Dresses have always been a part of your life, designers from all over the world would send you their best sets, and it’s rare for you to wear the same gown more than once. This isn’t the first time you had been presented with a dress that costed more than some of the houses in the kingdom, but there was something different about it. It had a special glow to it, unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Her Radiance Ahsoka brought it, it’s a wedding gift from the Woodland elves.” Koska speaks up when she sees your reaction. Both her and the Queen were amused at your childlike awe. “That’s why it has that shimmer, they used silk spinners and gold.”

“I… I can’t accept this.” You wanted to, but you were desperately trying to be humble and calm in this situation. The dresses never meant that much to you, it’s just a piece of clothing. You have always been far more into the politics that came with royalty, not the fashion, so this was a first.

“Well of course you can.” The queen chuckled, “It would be rude not to.” You wished you could tell her that wearing such an extravagance would feel in vain because you did not feel affection towards the person you’ll be wearing it for. However, you supposed she was right, it would be rude to turn down a gift from the literal elves. You stand up from where you sat, walking over the dress that took your breath away. You wondered what the Knight thought of it, and you turn around to look at him. You know that he wouldn’t show any type of reaction over this thing, especially if the Queen is watching, but you wanted to show him that you were thinking of him. You smiled, raising your eyebrows to really show how beautiful you thought the gown was, you’ll get to talk about it with him later. This is the second time Koska see’s something like this between the two of you, and she first looks at you, and the knight, raising a sharp eyebrow.

You place your hand over the fabric, running your palm over it. You did nothing to deserve this, but you were honored that it’s yours. “It’s like a faerie’s dress.” You sigh. “It’s wonderful, when can I thank her Radiance?”

“She’s out and about, she usually meditates in the gardens on sunny days, I can retrieve her, if you’d like.” Koska speaks up.

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll find her eventually.” You smile.

“Interesting that you brought up the fae…” The Queen brings up, “Allow me to ask, it is your engagement ball, is there anything specific you would like to have incorporated?” A few days ago, you would have had no answer, because a few days ago there was nothing about Mandalore worth it to you. However, things have changed. You’ve spent sleepless nights thinking about the boy in the beskar armor, and you would give anything to dance with him at that ball. You knew damn well that if you asked nicely, and maybe gave him head in return, he would do almost anything you asked. He would happily dance with you alone in the room after the events of the night, although you weren’t even sure if he knew how to dance. You did want to waltz with him, but not in that way.

So, last night you stayed up late, laying on your back with the balcony doors just cracked open to let in the smell fo fresh rain and a cool breeze into the hot room, thinking about him. You especially thought about the soft skin of his thighs and the way he shuddered when you raked your fingernails down his abdomen. But you also thought about how you could dance with him at the ball, where everyone could see. You knew that you would be dancing with far more people than Korkie, it would be many people’s last (and only) chance to dance with you before you’re married, and so you’re expected to give everyone the opportunity and attention they desired. It wasn’t your favorite thing you’d have to do, especially considering you would be dancing with a number of complete strangers and total creeps of Viziers, Grand Dukes and old viscounts who would probably whisper dirty things in your ear. And that is part of why you wanted this one thing for yourself so badly.

Dancing with a mysterious stranger wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted to share your affection towards him, and you especially wanted him to see you in your true element of balls and parties and gowns and tiaras. You knew it was risky, especially considering you can hardly control yourself around him, who knows what the crowd may be whispering as you dreamily look up at him. But after having to move and change your entire life, marry a man you resent in a kingdom that goes against everything you’ve ever believed in, you owe yourself this one thing. Just this one.

However, dancing with a literal knight would be far too suspicious and obnoxious for the biggest event in the western part of the world. And you knew that he would never remove his helmet, even if his life depended on it. It would be no easy feat to convince him to do something like that in such little time, but that’s when you got the best idea to have possibly ever cross your mind.

When you were just a little girl, your nursery caretaker would sit you on her lap when you had droopy, tired eyes, and read you a story. You can’t remember what it was called, it’s been so long since you heard it, but it was your favorite. It was the tale of the masquerade ball where the young peasant girl fell in love with the handsome magician. You were always drawn into it, because you once hoped you would fall in love with a mysterious and handsome man, too.The point of the story was that she never saw his face, as they both had on extravagant swan masks covering their eyes. If everyone had their face covered, it wouldn’t look suspicious if he did, too. You knew it would be a big thing to ask, and he may not even agree to it if the Queen approves of the short-noticed theme, but you wanted to live at least one night as the young peasant girl.

“Yes, actually.” You began to reply, “I would love for my engagement ball to be a masquerade.” You made sure to add in the ‘my’ to reinstate that it is for you. The Queen stopped to consider what you asked, and Koska looked suprised. It’s rare for anyone to ask the Queen for something like that out flat. But, she was the one who brought it up.

The Queen made you wait in suspense for her answer, and every fiber of your being wanted to turn around and wink at the knight to let him know that you asked for him, but even you, the naive princess, knew that you needed to be more careful with sharing your memories with him when others are around. “I suppose we could arrange that.” She thinks out loud, and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. The Queen really only agreed because she knew it would cause more buzz and conversation around her last event as Queen. Even you could see that, but if it meant you would get a chance to share the memory with your guard, it was worth it.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but the ball is this weekend, I fear we will not have enough time to prepare for such a change in plans…” Koska spoke up.

“Well, not if we don’t have everyone in the palace working double time,” Both yours and Koska’s faces dropped, that is not what you wanted at all. “Every servant will be required to make ten masks before the ball on Saturday. Knights are exempt, obviously.” She placed the rose gold dress back in Koska’s arms. You immediately felt guilty.

“Oh that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty, I don’t want everyone to-“

“Oh nonsense,” She interrupted, “I love the masquerade idea, it will be grand. It will be the envy of Coruscant.” Was everything a battle for her? An endless contest of who’s the best between Mandalore and Coruscant? If everyone had extra work to do on top of their usual load, you would feel absolutely terrible, but there would be no changing the Queen’s mind. “As the head of the servants, you will oversee the masks, Lady Reeves.” Your face was in shock, pale and sick. Koska shot you an annoyed glare. You tried to respond with an apologetic smile, but the Queen was speaking up again, pacing as she spoke. “Of course we need the royals to stand out from everyone else, we’ll already have our gowns but the masks will make a difference too…” She thought out loud. “Koska I would like an owl mask as per usual, there will be gems incorporated as well I trust?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” She was not amused with her new task.

“As for our little Princess,” She was referring to you, but you couldn’t even listen out of guilt. Everything you tried in Mandalore somehow backfired on you. “Her dress is lovely, but her mask must also be the most extravagant in the room, after mine, of course. It would also be best if hers and my nephew’s matched, Yes?” Koska nodded, struggling to hold the heavy dress with her small stature. “Lovely, aren’t you just full of surprises, Your Highness?” The Queen smiled at you, and you forced a polite smile. “Now, excuse me, I have a designer to meet with to get as many feathers and adornments for masks as possible.” The redhead hastily exits the room, her high guard following her, leaving just you and Koska with your knight.

“What the fuck was that about?” Koska asked afterwards.

“I didn’t mean for any of the extra work to happen, I swear.” You defensively respond.

“You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?” She asks.

“No- that not at all what-“

“Let her be, Koska.” Your knight steps into the conversation.

“Ugh you knights are so frustrating sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, what is going on with you two?” She asks and your heart drops to your ass. Was it that obvious there was something more there? Your knight tensed up, too. “Yeah, I can see exactly what’s going on here. Would either of you like to explain?” She asks.

The two of you stood awkwardly like children who got caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. You wondered how you were going to get out of this one. Your entire world could come crashing down right now if you didn’t play this out correctly, and a thousand outcomes of this situation simultaneously played out in your head. Would she rat you out? Would it lead to your knights expulsion? Or would she keep it to herself? She seemed to have a history with your knight, although you didn’t know what that might be. Maybe she would be on your side, but you highly doubted it.

You blame yourself for all of this. You should have put a stop to all of this long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. He has you tied around your finger, and you like it. You wondered what was going on through his mind, was he as nervous as you? He had to be, if not more worried about what would happen. Someone knowing about your secret relationship would only lead to you getting a tap on your knuckles and then they would try to hide it from society to keep your reputation clean, but it would be the end of his career and safety for him. You were selfish for this, and you knew it.

“What?” Is all your stupid mouth says. As if you hadn’t just had the most sporadic and stressful thought process of your entire life. After all that, the only thing you were able to come up with was “what?”. You thought your body might be shaking, but you weren’t totally sure. You wanted to look at the knight by your side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Koska must have thought the same thing as you because after you just responded with an arrogant rhetorical question, her eyebrows raised like a mother angry with her teenage son. She scoffs, and walks to the other side of the parlor to place the gown down on a sofa. When her back was turned to you, you were somehow able to muster up the courage to look at the beskar-clad figure to your left. He didn’t look any different than, well, ever. Tall and broad and stoically looking ahead as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But you knew better. He had to have had a similar thought process to your own. He never turned to look back at you, and that’s when the guilt really set in. This could have been prevented. It should have been prevented. You fiddle with your sleeve.

Koska comes back too soon, her arms folded over her chest and the same unamused look on her stupidly perfect face. “So, one of you better start talking now, or else I’m going to get impatient and go catch up with the Queen to do your chore.” She nods to you. Why was she doing this? What did she gain out of knowing any of this? It could be to protect Korkie, although you found that seriously hard to believe. From what you can tell, Koska could care less about the Mandalorian Prince.

You sigh out of embarrassment mostly, but know that you are the one who needs to speak up. This was your mistake, and so it was your responsibility to fix it. “This is all my fault,” You have to clear your throat after beginning because of how uncomfortably your words sit in your throat. “I take full responsibility for everything. Don’t blame him for anything.” You nod. He turns his head to look at you after you say this, and you wanted nothing more than to look back at him, but Koska had your gaze trapped.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘everything’ and ‘anything’?” The lady-in-waiting asks.

You sigh again, knowing this was going to be hard to say. “I...allowed myself to be…” You carefully considered your word choice, “i-infatuated with the wrong man.” You finally get out. That was the first time you had said it in front of him, and only the second time you had said it outloud ever, the first being to the Elven Queen last week. “I shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand, but I fell under the spell of this Knight, and I don’t even know his name. I’ve never seen his face. In many ways, he’s a complete stranger to me.” You debated saying the next thing, but it just kind of spilled out, ‘A stranger who’s plagued my thoughts and actions since the day I got here.” It was hard for you to say, but there was something so liberating about saying it.

He never took his eyes off of you the entire time you spoke, but this time you were able to look back at him. Your eyes first looking down at the floor guiltily, and then they slowly make their way up his armor and to the visor on his helmet. You just looked there for a little bit while Koska processed what you were saying. You smiled genuinely at the knight, desperately trying to show him that everything you just said was true. For a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to say anything at all, and the room fell silent.

“Well…” She begins, you can’t hear any disappointment in her tone yet, “You’re terrible at hiding it.” She sighs. Of all the things she could have said, you did not expect that.

“What?” You say like an absolute idiot for the second time. You look back at the woman.

“Look, I’ve known him for a long time.” She shakily breathes, looking at him, “We’ve actually been through a lot together.” He was still looking at you, “And honestly, Neither of us were ever cut out for the Royal life we’ve been living for a while now.” You wondered what she meant by that. “And to be frank, I could care less about your personal life.” She said to you about you, “But since he’s a friend, and you really don’t mean very much to me, no offense,”

“None taken.”

“I suppose I’ll just keep it to myself-“

The relief that overcame your body was unmatched. You can’t stop the grin that goes from ear to ear or the sigh of relief that danced on your lips and out of your lungs. You look over at him, who still hasn’t looked away from your face, but he sighs of relief, too. You see it in the way his armor shifts.

“-Under one condition.”

“Okay…”

“You have to start hiding it better, no more over the shoulder glances. Okay? This is me looking out for him.” She gestures to him with a nod. Was she really going to do this for you?

“No more glances, got it.” You repeat.

“There’s no telling what might happen to him if the wrong person finds out.” She clears her throat, and that statement scares you. You try not to let it take up too much of your thought. “And you have to act like nothing is different. You’re still engaged to the Prince and you’re still the future Queen-consort. I don’t give a damn about what happens behind closed doors, but when others are around you have to behave yourselves. This is me looking out for my kingdom, understood?”

“Understood.” You nod back, although you weren’t the biggest fan of that condition, you knew that was the price you had to pay to get what you wanted… well at least what you think you wanted. “You’re not going to tell the Queen?”

“If you do those things, she won’t hear a word about it.” Koska shrugs.

“And what about Korkie?”

“Stars, I cannot stand that boy. I don’t even talk to him.” She rolls her eyes and you chuckle. You’re happy you aren’t the only one who feels that way about the prince. “But I’m not going to cover or lie for you two, I’m not going to help you hide it or anything. Alright?”

“Of course.” You reply.

“Great. I have over five-hundered masks to make by Saturday, so I’ll be leaving now.” She finished and on her way out, she pushes the knight on the shoulder playfully.

The door closes.

“Stars.” You clear your throat and turn to look at him, before you can say anything, though, he’s picking you up by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of weightless flour, and carrying you over to the second sofa that isn’t taken up by a ridiculously large dress. You giggle when he does, blushing at his enthusiasm. You’re placed on your back and he kneels between your legs.

“You’re excited.” You chuckle and he hums in response. There isn’t very much room on the sofa but he makes his place. He then grabs the hem of your dress, pulling it up over first your thighs, then up past your hips, over the corset and up to your face. He covers your eyes with the skirt and it hides the cheesiest smile on your face. light still poured in from the fabric, but you weren’t able to see anything.

You then heard the sound of metal being placed on the floor next to you, and to your pleasant surprise, his lips and pressed tightly to yours through the fabric. The kiss obviously doesn’t make any contact, but you’ve learned that with the knight, it’s the thought that always counts. You’re smiling into the kiss like a dork, and you shudder when you feel his bare hands against your bare thighs. He pulls your legs open, and then pulls away from your separated kiss.

Your first moan comes when you feel his lips against your soft thighs. He licks up and down your right thigh first, his fingertips strong and faithful against the outer part of your legs. Your breathing hitches, and you hum with pleasure when he moves to your left thigh, taking the same amount of time to kiss, nibble and suck on your pillowy skin.

Then, before you can think any more about the heat and want in between your legs, he’s pulling down your petticoat painfully slow. You bite your lip, you knew where he was headed with this, and you were more than happy to welcome it. His index and middle finger run soft lines around your cunt, massaging the swollen and wet skin around your opening that only got wetter. Your clit begged for attention, but your arms were trapped under the position of the dress skirt, and you didn’t want to risk adjusting it in a way that would make him stop. You would have to patiently wait as he teased and prodded your lips, his free hand rubbing your thigh and occasionally making its way to firmly squeeze your ass cheek. Your breathing was needy and short as he took his time to get to know your core with the tips of his fingers, which were now wet and slick and making the friction smoother.

He then gently places a light kiss on your clit. It’s so soft that you’re only able to feel it because of how sensitive and hungry you are for that type of contact. You slightly finch when his lips touch the nerve, and you’re able to feel him smile against your skin. What you would give to see his face right now…. Then, before you can think any more, he’s licking a flat stripe up from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit where he flicks three times with the tip of his tongue. You gasp at the sensation, and try to suppress a moan. He then take his time to lick each separate lip of your sex, avoiding your actual opening but teasing in such an addictive way that you were willing to be patient for him.

The knight then finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, pulsing with his lips and flicking back and forth quickly with the tip of his tongue. You do moan this time, a broken cry falling off of your needy lips. It was a euphoric feeling unlike anything you’ve experienced before and you loved every moment of it. His arms wrap around your upper thighs, holding you in place around his head as he moves down to lap at your pussy lips. He moans at the taste of you, diving his tongue into your folds and prodding your sensitive clit with his nose.

You whine short and quietly as he does, biting your lip and bucking your hips every now and then as he took care of your sex. He must have gone down on you for close to ten minutes straight, never coming up for fresh air and never stopping the steady pace he had. You aren’t sure how you didn’t cum immediately at the feeling of his plump lips against your clit, but you also aren’t sure how you didn’t blackout from the sheer pleasure of the feeling. It was addictive, and it only got better after he pulled away to spit on your cunt. He spits onto your folds and then brings his fingers up again to start fingering you, sliding in his pointer finger with no resistance and slowly pumping it in and out. His mouth finds its way back to your slit, sucking on it as he fingers you. The sound was filthy, it filled the parlor with wet, obscene noises accompanied by breathy moans and gentle hums. Every time he hummed against your clit, your back arched from the added pleasure. The vibrating of it was pure euphoric, and you knew you were a sopping mess in between your thighs.

His chin was wet from spit and arousal and for one quick moment he pulled his wet mouth away from your core to kiss and rub the juices of your cunt on your thighs. He nibbles a few times on either thigh, marking each with a litter of purple and red hickeys. Before adding a second finger, he pulls his hand out to gently and playfully slap your cunt. He uses his wet hand to tap your core five or six times, each tap getting harder. You moan out at the feeling, and squeeze your legs together against the feeling in a horny attempt to get more pleasure from the moment.

“Huh, would you look at that?” He asks, his voice low and hungry and full of lust. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and the indulgence of the oral sex cause you to nearly forget how much you loved his rough voice. “Do you like it when I slap your cunt?” You whine in response. “With your words, Princess.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whine like a bitch. He chuckles and slaps it again, harder this time. You shudder at the feeling and feel your climax coming on. You want to delay it for as long as possible, but your thighs start to shake when he puts his mouth back in you and pushed both his index and middle finger into your opening, pumping and curling and twisting his wrist to make the most wonderful combination of finger-fucking you could of have imagined.

“I’m gonna cum.” You barely get out before your spine is burning and your stomach is flexing as you cum hard and long against his tongue and on his fingers. You cry out in broken, heavenly bliss, and look for something to grasp onto as you hit your high, but you can’t find anything, which leads to your sporadic back arches. You’re panting, and he doesn’t stop kissing against your core while you cum on his tongue. You bite your lip and swear you might make it bleed a little. His grip on your thighs tightens while he pulls you against his mouth, preventing you from pulling away from the addictive exhilaration that is his kiss.

He licks you through the entire orgasm, and then some after. You think you’re being over-stimulated but you never have been before, so you aren’t really sure. Just when you think he’s going to stop, he doesn’t and he just takes his sweet old time lapping against your core and slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. You sharply breath in, your chest heaving against the dress and you desperately want to pull your dress down to see him and breath freshly again. The way he eats you out is so methodical, like he’s done it a thousand times (which wouldn’t necessarily surprise you), like it’s the only thing he’s ever eaten or the sweetest honey to ever grace his lips.

It begins to turn you on again, the pleasure shooting into your spine and down your littered thighs and melting against your clit. You can feel the gentle rub of his fingers against your thighs, stroking your skin as he takes you in. It’s heavenly and is the only thing you can think about. Your thoughts go numb and the only important thing in the entire world is the curly-haired boy at your expense.

You mutter and whisper swears, dirty words that aren’t meant to come out of a princess’ mouth but you can’t help it when you’re seeing white hot behind your eyes. He groans a few times too before his fingers speed back up to the pace they were at before you came the first time. Your dainty hands stroke lightly on your collar-bones as the pleasure fills your soul, licking your lips and trying to hold on for as long as possible before you cum again but you can already feel your second orgasm coming on. He uses a third finger to outline your lips, coating the tip in your slick and then slowly inserting the third and final finger into your cunt, helping you chase that final hit of release. The stretch is amazing, and you were surprised you were able to take it so well. This is when you realized that he’s been training you for something much bigger. The first time he fingered you wasn’t even any penetration, the second time was two fingers, just enough to stretch you that it hurt the right amount, and now this time, three fingers that felt amazing. You remembered the size of his cock, you knew it would be a challenge to take, but he was making sure you would be able to handle it and enjoy it as much as he will.

His focus goes from licking your clit to the fingers inside. He twists his wrist to make the curl and stretch your entrance. He collects the wetness and lets it make the glide and pump smoother. You’re so drenched and needy that the fluid is running out past his fingers and dripping onto the sofa cushion, staining it with your lust. He nips so slightly at your clit and just like that, your whole world comes crashing down. The orgasm is actually mind-numbing this time, and all you can do is moan and sob and claw at your own skin. Your scratch into your shoulders and collar-bone and it’s deliciously painful. Your thighs clamp against his head and he continues to finger you long and hard through the climax, cleaning your folds up as you cum against his tongue and fingers. You’re finally able to catch your breath, painting with droopy, lustful eyes but feeling completely fulfilled. He cleans up all the juices around your entrance, collecting the cum on his tongue and happily swallowing it down like it’s his last meal. You aren’t able to see it, but he then puts his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off the three that were knuckle-deep into your cunt. He groans at the taste, and wipes his mouth before planting one last, gentle kiss to the soft, angelic skin of the mound between your legs. You're so sensitive that the light kiss makes you flinch, and he chuckles at the involuntary reaction.

He puts his helmet back on and then pulls your dress skirt down to see your face. You’re surprised by the light initially, and you blink a few times to adjust to it. Your lungs fill with crisp air and you look at your favorite sight: the helm of the knight you think you’re falling in love with. You can’t stop the smile on your face. He chuckles and then readjusts your dress to cover you up better. He takes such good care of you. You see him freeze when he sees the scratch marks on your skin, and his bare hand softly runs over the red lines, outlining the marks. You blush at him, looking up at his expressionless face with a puppy-love look.

“Everytime I think it can’t get any better, you prove me wrong.” You sigh. Every orgasm has been better than the last.

“Just you wait.” You hear the smirk under the helmet and it causes butterflies to flutter in your tummy. You sigh, still catching your breath and you just take him in, looking up at how he’s propped up above you. He has hands on either side of your head and he’s just a brudding force of metal and sex and good kissing and caring about things that you didn’t even know you needed someone to care about. You probably look like a dork just smiling up at him but you don’t even care and now your hands are free to wrap around his neck and you just wish you could see his face and kiss it all over right now.

Your fingers lock behind his neck and the positioning of his armor and the way his head is bent makes it so you can just barely feel the skin of his neck. You move your index fingers up to look for the curls at the nape of his neck. You think you could sing out when you found the prize: some strands of dark, brown, thick hair hidden under the helmet. You twirl them around your fingers and that action alone is worth a million kisses. The feeling in your heart is second to none and you wished you could stay in this still moment forever.

“Did you mean what you said?” He speaks up in reference to what you told Koska about him.

“Every word of it.” You state, genuinely meaning it as you said it. He did respond but something told you he was smiling under all that armor. He sighs, and then lets his arms go weak so he’s falling onto you. You groan at the surprise and the sheer weight of both his broad body and the heavy armor on top. The air is pushed out of your lungs but at least he’s pressed into you, your hands still toying with his curly hair. You can hear him chuckle, and you wanted to freeze time.

“Someone’s gonna see us if we stay like this.” He mutters as you tilt your head to have it rest on top of his helmet.

“Then let them.”

He doesn’t reply to what you say, and you debate if it was even the right thing to say. When you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, it’s hard to grasp the concept that someone may not want the same thing. You’re selfish for not caring about his safety and status in these types of situations. He grunts as he pushes himself back up and stands again, leaving only you on the sofa.

“How’s the arm?”

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes, you don’t want everyone to worry so much anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You reply more forcefully this time, sitting up on the couch.

“Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You sigh, and consider your next words, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You sit with your palms flat against the cushion, making aware of the wet spot on the fabric and smirking fondly at it.

“Anything, your Highness.” He nods.

“Well… I wondered if maybe I could teach you how to dance?” You were nervous about what his response may be.

“Oh Stars-“ He chuckles.

“What!?”

“I had a feeling that masquerade might have something to do with me.” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding you but there’s a guilty part of you that you like about it.

“Well it isn’t just about you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“...no.” He already knew you so well. He chuckles at your response. “So… what’s your answer?”

“Dancing isn't my style…”

“I don’t believe that.” You tilt your head. “Come on, it’s super easy and it would mean a lot to me.” You try convincing. He sighs and considers what you’re offering. “I can give you something in return…” You bite your lip, teasing. He chuckles just once.

“Alright-”

“What!? Really??” You stand up from excitement, you weren’t really expecting him to agree.

“But, only if you let me teach you something in return.” You nod in agreement, your hands coming to fold in your lap. You were expecting him to refer to something sexual, but his words prove you wrong, “I wanna teach you how to fight.”

“What?” Why would you ever need that?” It’s rare for royals to learn such a skill, especially princesses. You understood that it would be valuable, but you weren’t completely sure if you were up to the task.

“Well more than anything, I want to teach you how to defend yourself. So something like Keldabe doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay…” You were tentative to agree.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, “If it means I get to dance with you at the ball, I would be more than happy to learn.”

“Great. Let’s start then.” He takes a step back and holds his hand out for you to take.

“What?” You place your palm in his and he pulls you up off the couch, “right now?”

“Yes, c’mere.” You were nervous and honestly your legs were still weak from cumming twice, but you follow him as he begins to talk. “I’ll just teach you a few things and then you can teach me how to dance I guess.”

“Stop being a pill.” You tease.

“Only if you stop, too.” He teases right back at you which leads to a scoff from your lips. He ignores you. “When you're defending yourself, you always wanna protect your face, okay?”

“Protect my face, got it.” You repeat. He holds his arms up in front of his helmet, his hands fisted.

“Mimic my pose.” You roll your eyes but mirror him, holding your arms to guard your face. “See, is that so hard?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He sarcastically replies. “You can’t do much if you can’t see, so that’s why you gotta protect your face. If you wore a helmet you wouldn’t need to do this.”

“But I would always be wearing a helmet…”

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugs.

“Something tells me that you don’t believe that.” You drop your arms from your face to say that, which was obviously a mistake, because instead of responding to your claim (which was probably right), he's jabbing his arm out towards your face. He’s not close enough to hit you but the quick and unexpected action is enough to startle you back. You lose your balance and fall down on the ground, wincing when you hit the ground and regretting agreeing to this. Your arms wrap into a frustrated position and you frown up at him. You look up at him surprised and a little pissed, and he just starts laughing. “What was that?”

“You let your guard down.” He says between laughs. He does hold his hand out for you to help you back up, and you take it to your own dismay. He hoists you up quickly, and you have to re-establish your balance.

“You are impossible.” You put your arms back over your face, ready to try again.

“You like it.”

“Are you gonna teach me or not?” He wasn't wrong but you figured you’d have to try and beat him at his own game.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Just go.” You roll your eyes again.

“This will also protect your ribs. Can’t do much if the wind is knocked out of you, either.” He explains. “You also want to stand wide, it’ll help you keep your balance.” He kicks your feet out to be shoulder width which breaks every rule in the book of princess manners. “And prevent… falling on the floor.”

“This isn’t exactly easy to do in a corset, you know.” You argue.

“And dancing won’t be easy in armor but here we are.” He shrugs, and you suppose he’s right. Neither of you are cut out for the tasks at hand. “When fighting someone without armor, you’re gonna want to go for their face, their eyes are vulnerable and you can do real damage on their nose.”

“Okay….” You try to remember what he was saying, making a mental note for any future situations, although you’re still skeptical. “And what about someone with armor on?” You ask, trying not to show the smirk on your face.

“Well the guy in Keldabe did everything right, he found where the weak points of my armor was and attacked them-“

“So here?” You ask before reeling back your arm and swinging it as hard as you can into his shoulder where there was only chain mail. Your fist crashes into the metal, and you immediately regret it. “Shit!” You pull your hand back and look at your bright red knuckles, shaking your hand a few times as you try to brush the shock away.

“...Yeah, right there.” On the bright side, he seemed to be surprised by it enough that he made a little groan from the contact that turned you on way more than it should have. “But now you fucked up your hand.”

“You think?” You place the angry knuckles at your mouth, trying not to be too upset about the pain shooting through your hand.

“Punching chainmail is always gonna hurt, especially if you do it wrong… like that.”

“So how do I do it right!?” You’re determined now. No one has ever put you in your place, you’ve always gotten what you wanted, and you wanted to prove to him that you could do it.

“Why are you so eager to inflict pain on me?” He asks, you can hear the teasing in his tone but you can’t blame him for feeling that way. Perhaps you did come off a little anxious.

“I don’t know… I guess I just want to prove something to you.” You sigh, still pissed off by the pain in your hand. You’re so distracted by it that you hardly notice him walking towards you. His gentle and soft bare hands take your fist away from your mouth. You’re tentative at first, but let him take it in his hand, cupping it in between his and looking down at your red skin. You frown mostly out of frustration, but the pain is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Princesses aren’t supposed to feel pain.

Before you can blink, he pulls his top hand away and takes it to lift up his helmet just above his lips. The angle makes it so you can’t see any of his face but you understand. He bends down and kisses your knuckles in the same fashion one would when greeting you, but this was so much more intimate. His lips were like satin against your skin and the butterflies in your stomach fly right back. The physical pain didn’t go away, but the anger around it did. Your heart softened and wished he would kiss your lips but he’s already pulling the beskar back over his jaw. You sigh from the gesture, he was so romantic and you don’t even think he’s trying to be. He’s just trying to be kind and patient with you and it’s doing something to your heart that you don’t know if you can handle anymore.

“So… how do you waltz?” He asks, his hand still holding onto yours. You smile and sheepishly look down at your feet. You were unsure of how to begin, but were happy he was willing to learn.

“Okay.” You smile, “Well, you first need to loosen up. Stop being so stiff.” He tilts his head like you’re speaking a foreign language. “Like this.” You press your hands down on his shoulder pauldrons, he tries to rest them but fails and you chuckle just a little. “Roll them back.” You explain and do it yourself, he attempts to follow, and actually is able to relax a little bit more this time. Knights are always so stiff, you think it will be good for him to relax every now and then. “Good, now this hand goes here…” You lift his right hand to rest on your waist and he immediately settles into it, already feeling more comfortable now that he is holding you. You place your left hand on his shoulder, pulling your bodies a little closer together. He wanted your torsos to be flush against one another, “No, we have to keep our distance so we have room to do the steps.” You explain.

“Well that’s no fun.” He sighs. You blush and giggle.

“If we get this done I promise you can hold me as long as you want.” You tilt your head trying to make a fair compromise.

“Fine.” He’ll take it.

“Great, now we hold these hands.” You take his left hand and hold it into yours. “That’s the basic position, I learned it as home position, got it?”

“Home position…?” He repeats.

“Mhm.” You nod, your faces are close and you would give anything to feel his breath against yours. “It’s important that we sort of… ‘glide’ like we bounce as we dance, it will make it prettier.” He was convinced you were always pretty no matter what you tried or did, but we guessed he would comply this time. Your voice goes quiet and soft, the mood immediately changing from teasing to harmonious. “And your feet… okay this is sort of complicated but your left foot will go forward as my right goes back-“ You keep looking down at the floor as you try to explain the steps but his gaze is on your face, hardly listening to what you're saying and only being engulfed in your face and the way you talked about doing something you loved. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it.

You must have been talking for a while without really listening to yourself because he was slowly pulling you into his torso and closing the space without you really noticing that you were inches closer than you were before. “-and then your left foot will slide to meet your right foot-“ the last word fades out as you slowly look back up to his face which was now up close to yours, your bodies pressed together and both of his hands on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back. Your heart skips a beat and you forget how to breathe as you look up at him and it just felt… right.

Your hands lift from his pauldron to his helmet and you want to take it off so badly. You knew it was too fast still, and he would remove his helmet for you when he felt like he could. At least that’s what you hoped for. It should be his decision, no one else’s. But your hands are grazing the bottom of the beskar and everything feels so right. He’s so still and his breath is quiet and for just a moment you think he might let you and then-

The door knob is turning slowly and both of you are splitting away all too fast, trying to make enough space between the two of you so it didn’t look suspicious. You both scramble, trying to put yourselves back together. The still and perfect moment was entirely gone when Prince Korkie opened up the door into the parlor. You tried not to look too shocked when his stupid perfect hair and young face looked on you. The knight held his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were bare and side-eyed the gloves on the sofa that laid by the wet stain on the cushion. He silently prayed that the Prince wouldn’t notice them.

“Ah, princess I was wondering where you were.” He looked between the two of you. He didn’t seem too suspicious, thank the stars.

“Korkie! What are you doing?” You awkwardly laugh. Your hands fold at waist level, and you fix your posture.

“Did… I walk in on something?” He asks and your whole body goes numb. You swallow and try not to pass out. The truth is yes, he did walk in on something very important to you, but here we are.

“Oh! No, we were just…” You search around the room looking for something to take the attention away from you and the knight, “Admiring the beautiful dress the Elves gave me!” You walk to the heavy, iridescent gown on the clean sofa, picking it up to show him. You smile desperately, hoping that would be enough.

“Ah yes! It is beautiful, isn’t it?” He nods, smiling. You sigh of relief when he falls for the bait. You set the dress back down.

“Can I do anything for you?” You ask,a king sure there was no attention on the knight being you.

“I… just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. My aunt informed me of the changes to the Ball. What a wonderful idea!”

“Why thank you.” You smile, taking a few steps towards him in a hopeless attempt to not seem so suspicious.

“Yes! I had just received the RSVPS from a number of the guests. Your parents, the twins of Naboo, the senator of Alderaan and Princess of Chandrila and I’m pleased to say that we’ve found no suspicion of any attack from Coruscant!” Stars, he talks a lot. You aren’t sure how he can have any more breath to talk. You were starting to decide that you liked the boys who were more reserved.

Well… one boy.

“Oh… Um, of course. That’s great news.” You nod and finish your walk towards him, suddenly hyper-aware of the fading scratches on your collar bone.

“Come with me, we should review the letters together.” You look back at the knight apologetically before walking into the hallway with the Prince. This isn’t exactly how you hoped your afternoon would go...

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Part ten

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sugako · 3 years

Text

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #hq smut

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shelobussy · 3 years

Note

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Winter Court Wedding

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: This has been in my head for a few days and I had to get it out of my head so I could write other stuff XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,356 words... yup it ran away from me again. This one pretends Tamlin isn’t a terrible person so we get Rhys instead 😉 @itscheybaby

^^^^^

“Rhysand?” I called through the town house.

“Yes?” His voice was coming from the kitchen.

I went downstairs, holding the box I’d found in our room. “What’s this for?” I asked, indicating the heavy fur-lined black cloak with silver embroidery of the moon and stars up the sides.

“Can’t I give you a gift just because I want to?” His smirk was almost too casual for me to believe him.

“You know I prefer coats in Velaris,” I replied. “So there’s something going on.”

He sighed, wings drooping. “Alright. You caught me,” he muttered. “We’re going to the Winter Court.”

“What for?”

“Kallias and Vivane’s wedding.”

“Didn’t they get married like an hour after he got back from Under the Mountain?”

Rhysand folded his arms, tucking his wings against his back a little tighter. “Yes,” he said carefully, “but they’re hosting a formal reception for their court, as well as for the other High Lords. I’m sure Kallias doesn’t actually want to invite us, or any of the other High Lords for that matter, but Mor and Vivane are really good friends and I don’t think he wants to harm that relationship.”

“So Mor’s coming with us, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. She has to put out a fire in the Court of Nightmares.”

“Literal or figurative?”

“Figurative. Keir is pitching fits again.”

“Ah. Same old, same old, then.”

“Pretty much.”

I decided to change the subject.

“So, the cloak is to keep me warm in the Winter Court climate, I’m assuming.”

“Yes. Hopefully without damaging your dress. Sometimes your coats rumple the skirts. While we’re in Velaris—and anywhere in the Night Court that’s not the Court of Nightmares, really—I don’t mind. But you know what we look like to the other courts. The image we present.”

Wealthy, dangerous, ruthless, powerful Night Court High Fae. Immaculate and pristine. Never even a hair out of place. Always in control of every situation. The High Lord who always got what he wanted, his thunderstorm of a High Lady by his side. Nary a trace of the Illyrian half-breed with self-worth issues and the Autumn Court runaway who’d never belonged anywhere.

“I know,” I said.

Rhys approached me and pulled the cloak out of its small box. “Besides,” he said, slinging it around me, “it does look rather fetching on you.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to my neck.

“Charmer,” I teased.

He laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I missed you, while you were… gone.”

Even though he insisted he was fine, I still did my best not to mention Under the Mountain. The secrets he’d been forced to keep, the things he’d been forced to do to keep me and the rest of the Night Court safe. We talked about it when he needed to, and I would always be there for him, but I didn’t need to force the past forty-nine years on him.

Rhys put his arms around my waist under the cloak and buried his nose in my hair. “I missed you too.”

“So when do we leave for the Winter Court?”

He knew I was changing the subject away from what I didn’t want to bring up, but he let me. “Tomorrow. We may stay overnight, we may not.”

“Shame Mor’s not coming with.”

“Agreed. She’d love to see Viviane again.”

“We’ll find some way to reunite them. How about that?”

“I think it sounds delightful. We’ll put them in a sound-proof room so we don’t have to hear them squealing into the late hours of the night.” His sarcasm was not lost on me. I chuckled. We swayed in place for a bit. “Let’s go get prepared for tomorrow, darling,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

—

I already miss the Northern mountains, I thought at Rhys, wrapping the beautiful new cloak tighter around me to suppress a shiver. Even they aren’t as cold as this.

He hid his amused smile with a lazy smirk, boredly surveying the Winter Court ice waste around us as the reindeer-pulled sleigh whisked over the snow. I agree, he thought back, but it’s not for very long.

The small tiara I’d chosen to accompany my gown was like I’d wrapped an icicle around my scalp. The metal of it practically frozen to my skin.

The sleigh turned a corner.

“By the Cauldron,” I breathed.

The palace was made of ice. It towered into the sky with sharp jags and icicle towers, hexagonal walls filtering sunlight from behind. White-furred bears patrolled the battlements alongside the soldiers. All of whom sported white hair and pale blue uniforms. Snow was falling, but there was only a scattering of clouds. The High Lord’s magic, then, probably.

It might be a good idea to close your jaw, Rhys advised, no sarcasm present. We have an image to maintain while we’re here.

Right, I thought.

The sleigh driver pulled us up to a half-circle drive of packed snow. At the apex of the half-circle were two massive doors to the palace, wide open to the deep blue gloom of indoors. After slowing to a stop, we gave the driver a curt but polite thank-you and swept out of the sleigh. I caught Rhys flicking a finger before offering me his arm. What magic did you just do? I thought at him.

Tipping the driver. It’s polite but I definitely don’t want to be seen doing it. Would ruin the monster reputation I’ve spent centuries building. An image accompanied his reply—of a cheeky wink. I sent him back nothing but laughter.

An attendant—a young “lesser” faerie female with skin the color, texture, and reflectiveness of powdered snow—guided us inside. It was a lot warmer within the ice-crafted walls than I would have expected. I almost wanted to remove my cloak. The attendant looked absolutely terrified of us. Rhys and I barely acknowledged she was there, both keeping impassive expressions on our faces. I wished I could reassure her that everything was alright—that we were friendly—but I knew why I couldn’t.

She led us up what technically counted as a spiral staircase—despite it being hexagonal and not perfectly circular—to a suite of rooms. “His Lordship hopes you will be comfortable here,” the attendant said.

“Thank you.” A curt dismissal from Rhys. She scampered away.

Once she was gone and the doors closed, both of us relaxed. “I hate acting like that,” I muttered.

“Me too. But every High Lord puts on a face,” Rhys said. “You remember Helion. He seems terribly prickly and temperamental in public but is quite amusing and kind in private.” Rhys sat on a white sofa embroidered with sky blue winter flora and a few snowflakes.

“I do remember Helion. I also remember wishing you’d given me a warning about it. I was ready to punch him for being so rude to you.”

Rhys winked at me. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun,” he replied. I rolled my eyes. “Well, love, there’s nothing to do but wait until the reception. We did arrive a little early.”

“Four hours is ‘a little’?” I joked.

All I got was a shrug. “I like making statements,” he replied casually. “I arrive when I wish and I don’t care about their scheduling. Usually I would prefer to show up late to make it seem like I really don’t care about whatever it is they’ve had the courage to invite me to, but sometimes it’s more fun to arrive much earlier than planned and make that everyone else’s problem.”

I laughed. “You do a good job of making your act seamless.”

“Centuries of practice, darling.” He lounged on the sofa but patted the seat next to him. I sat beside him. It was almost warm enough inside to remove my cloak, but not quite. Rhys’ body heat was helping make up the difference. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I grinned. “Thanks. You’re quite stunning yourself.” Black jacket, immaculately embroidered in silver and gold, deep midnight blue shirt underneath buttoned all the way up to hide his tattoos, black slacks with a single ring of silver thread around the ankles. It had taken me an hour to convince him to wear a blue shirt instead of black. But it really brought out his eyes. Dimmed the blazing, powerful violet just enough to reveal that his irises were actually blue.

“I’m always stunning,” he replied.

I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Arrogant,” I accused.

He kissed me. “You like it though.”

I rolled my eyes.

—

The ballroom was enormous. Pillars of glimmering ice reflected faelight bobbing around the ceiling. It was lightly snowing inside. Winter Court High Fae and faeries milled around, talking, eating, drinking. A line extended away from the bride and groom. Well-wishers offering their congratulations.

Rhysand wasn’t going to bother waiting in the line. I knew that. We’d approach from behind or from the other side, offer our regards, and then leave.

But not immediately.

The ballroom was warm enough that I passed my cloak to a waiting attendant. My gown was so dark violet it was almost black. A bell-shaped skirt dotted with beads in the shape of stars swished over the ice floor, lightly dusted with snow. The gown’s sleeves barely capped my shoulders, but the long black satin gloves that ended two inches from the bottom of the sleeves helped keep my arms warm. The bandeau tiara had three dark amethysts glinting among the white diamonds.

The finery wasn’t terribly comfortable, but I knew the effect it had on others.

Rhys and I wandered the ballroom, mingling only occasionally—and only if the other party dared approach us first.

Including High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court and his charming bride-to-be, Feyre Cursebreaker. Both of them looking happy and healthy and more in love than ever.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Rhys,” Tamlin said begrudgingly. His eyes flicked over to me. I didn’t have to be daemati like Rhys to know what he was thinking. The whispers of the other faeries milling about followed me the moment we entered the room, and Tamlin was likely in agreement.

Freak. Unnatural. Witch. Lightning was not meant to be harnessed by magic like that. She doesn’t belong in any court.

I thought about snapping something at Tamlin, but Rhys cut in smoothly, “We could hardly miss an important function such as this, Tamlin.” He inclined his head at the female on Tamlin’s arm. “A pleasure to see you again, Feyre.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” she replied dryly.

Rhys tsked, but didn’t say anything to her. “Enjoy the party,” he said to both of them instead before pulling me away. I waved at Feyre, letting an apology touch my expression. Her glare softened a moment and she lifted her fingers as though to wave back, but thought better of it.

I turned away. She’d saved Tamlin and freed the other High Lords and their courts from Amarantha. She gave Rhys back to me—and I couldn’t even give her the thanks she deserved. Electricity crackled in my veins. Rhys jolted slightly as I shocked him. No one else would have noticed.

Easy, he thought at me. What’s wrong?

I let him into an antechamber in my shields, to see what I thought and felt without having to explain. Thoughtful silence followed. We’ll find a way to let you thank her. For us both to thank her. She gave me back to you, too.

Thank you, I thought at him.

Of course. I felt a loving caress against my shields. I sent one in return.

Rhys took me through the crowd, occasionally offering greetings to the High Fae and faeries who didn’t cower as we passed. Rhys’s damper on his power had been loosened. Not released completely, but relaxed—allowing tendrils of darkness to drift from him like shafts of steam. It was an intimidation tactic. He did it a lot.

“Kallias. Viviane,” Rhys said as we approached the bride and groom. Both looked resplendent. Viviane in her simple but no doubt expensive gown that glittered like powdered snow under the moonlight. They turned to us. “Morrigan sends her regards and regrets that she couldn’t make it.” Those words were directed at Viviane. She smiled at the both of us. More warmly at me than at Rhys.

“Congratulations to you both,” I said with a genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy with one another.”

Kallias gave me a cold stare. Wondering where my calculating, ruthless High Lady mask was, no doubt. But I did want them to know that I was happy for them. That I was happy they’d found one another after Amarantha.

“Thank you,” Viviane said before Kallias could reply. She reached out and took my hand in both of hers. “And thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rhys said smoothly, smirking slightly.

“We left our gift on the table with the others,” I said softly to Viviane.

She gave me a warm grin. “Thank you. Thank you, both.”

I returned the grin and Rhys bade a curt goodbye to Kallias before we retreated back into the crowd.

“Care to dance?” I asked.

“With you? Always.” He smiled at me. For a moment I forgot we were in another court. All I could think of was him. All I could see was those blazing eyes—that lazy smile. His warmth against me.

I didn’t realize I must have been showing that on my face because he leaned down and kissed me. “The rest of tonight is going to be so much fun,” he whispered suggestively, giving me that playful smirk he always had when he knew we were both going to get what we wanted from each other before the night was over.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the Winter Court chill travelled down my spine. Excitement. “Oh, I think it will be,” I replied.

#Winter Court Wedding #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

Text

Red Roses: “I Love You” - Wanda Maximoff Ending

Valentines Special: Day Nine

Day One: Morning Glories // Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers // Day Four: Pink Camellias Day Five: Yellow Tulips // Day Six: Violets Day Seven: Lisianthus // Day Eight: Daffodils (Post with rest of the character endings)

Plot: It’s finally Valentines Day, the day the reader will finally learn who it is that had been leaving them flowers and notes expressing their secret feelings.

Pairing: Gen!Neutral Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Triggers: None Words: 1,503

Requested Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @thebookbakery, @fablesrose, @kitkatd7, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @beksib, @destynelseclipsa, @criminaly-supernatural, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus, @snarky--starky, @saintbootlegloras, @wecallhimbrowneyess, @empath-bunny, @okkulta, @katinthemoon, @ravennight41, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs , @goinggoinggonzo, @mxxnmocha, @theofficialzivadavid, @lilix1989, @normanijauregui, @euphouriaszn2, @slut-for-nat , @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all (still couldn’t tag, sorry) , @supersourlemon13, @messhup

February 14th

You woke up late in the morning, having had a restless nights sleep most of the night. As you groggily opened up your eyes and stretched, you turned to look at your clock, seeing it was nearly 11am. You sighed before grabbing your phone, seeing a missed text from Steve a few hours prior asking if you wanted to go for a run with him and Bucky. Replying with an apology and that you slept in, you rolled back over, your eyes landing on the daffodils on the table.

Remembering that you had woken up lying at the end of your bed before crawling back in, you reached over on your desk and grabbed the note you had set their last night. You read over it again before “New beginnings” you mumble to yourself before sighing and sitting up.

Eventually, you had gotten out of bed, brushed your teeth and got dressed before wondering out of your room, planning on going on a walk. You just wanted to get out of the tower honestly. You needed to think things over again.

You managed to leave the tower without running into any of the others before you began wandering towards a nearby park, headphones in and favorite music playing. You began to think of the possibilities again. Over the last week, you found yourself watching the others more closely. The way Natasha and Bruce had been acting around each other, you figured it was neither of them leaving you the notes. And you doubted it was Tony or Clint, and it certainly wasn’t Loki.

So that leaves Steve, Bucky, Vision, Thor and Wanda. Steve and Bucky had always been kind to you, you were definitely close to both of them. The more you thought about them, the less you could see yourself in a relationship with them. And Vision was nearly impossible to figure out entirely.

And then there was Wanda. Ever since you met her and Pietro in your fight against Ultron, you had a bond. She felt comfortable around you, and you had never been afraid of her. You made sure she knew she wasn’t alone, and helped her mourn her brother. You spent a lot of your time together, and you had recently become more confused about your feelings towards her.

You liked her much more than you did anyone else. If you were a teenager, you’d call it a crush. But could she ever feel the same for you? Just like Vision, she was good at hiding her emotions. And you were, you think, very good at hiding how you felt. And you trusted her to never use her abilities on you without your permission anyways, she had made a promise to you as well, though you did not ask her too. It was her own way of expressing you could trust her.

Sitting down on a bench and staring out at the park, and the people wandering around, you thought more about Wanda and the way she was around you. Thinking of all the small interactions, some of which could be seen as a bit more intimate than others. You began to feel a small sense of hope towards who would admit their feelings to you tonight.

- - -

You had spent most of your day wandering around the city before heading back to the tower a few hours before the party would begin. You had been avoiding talking to the others, rarely texting them throughout the day. So when you arrived back at the tower, you were not really surprised when Natasha and Clint found you before you made it all the way to your room.

“Is something up? You don’t usually avoid us this much.” Natasha began as you were stopped in the hallway before the elevator.

You sighed as you leaned against the wall “I’ve just been preoccupied, I’m fine I promise.”

“This is about the flowers isn’t it?” Clint asked.

You nodded and Natasha smiled apologetically “Y/n, you really don’t need to be so concerned, I’m sure that if you really can’t see yourself being with whoever it is, they’ll understand. We are all way to close to hold that type of grudge, or let something like this stand between us.”

“You haven’t read the notes Nat. There’s much more at stake than you understand. But, I do hope you’re right.” you said with a sense of unease.

After they tried to console you a bit more, you left to go back to your room. Taking a long shower, and slowly getting ready, you sat around distracting yourself before the party. You had gone back and forth in your mind, part of you trying to convince yourself to not go down at all. Maybe they would come find you if they really wanted. But eventually deciding against this, you convinced yourself to go up to the party.

The party was crowded and loud, made up of a cacophony of laughter, conversation, and music. You spent a while hanging out with Natasha, Clint, Bruce and Wanda before you snuck off when you all joined the others and groups of guests.

You thought you had not been noticed, when you found a quiet separate room, closed off from guests. You had begun to feel a bit overwhelmed and needed to take a breather away from everyone. Staring out of the large window out at the bright city, as you began to relax.

Hearing the door creak open, you looked over to see Wanda peak her head in. Her eyes meeting yours as she gave you a cautious smile “Are you alright? I saw you sneak off.”

You smiled politely at her, with little emotion “I’m okay, just started to feel a bit overwhelmed.”

“So, is this a bad time?”

“For what?” you asked with a questioning face.

Stepping fully into the room, she lifted up a small bouquet of red roses “To give you these?” she asked cautiously, cocking her head sideways slightly as she watched you.

Your eyes whipped back and fourth from the roses to Wanda before you found your voice again “Uh, wh- did...uh, did someone give you those to give to me...Or..?”

She smiled as she began walking towards you “No one gave them to me.”

You met her eyes “Then...you?”

She nodded her head once “Yes. Me.” she smiled. Walking the rest of the way up to you she handed you the flowers, which you took cautiously as you looked between them and Wanda.

“I....” you chuckled at your own speechlessness “I just...really thought that you uh, I mean, I thought I was the only one...”

Her smile widened at your stuttering admission before she reached out and placed her hands over yours sending a sense of ease over you. “I didn’t really mean too. But, a few weeks ago, I was feeling, overwhelmed myself, about how I found my feelings changing for you. And one day, when we were together, I couldn’t help but...search a bit, just to see.” she looked at you with guilt on her face “I’m sorry, I know I promised I wouldn’t-”

“It’s alright Wanda” you cut her off, assuring her “That actually makes it a lot easier” you chuckled, which made her smile with relief and amusement. “So, that whole, scavenger hunt you joked about a while ago, to find who was leaving the flowers was just a ploy to distract me from thinking it was you?”

She cocked her head to the side with a smile “Maybe.”

You realized that this now made sense, that day when you found no one in the hallway when you heard them, she had used her magic. “Did anybody else know?” you asked curiously.

She shook her head “I mean, both Tony and Steve knew about how I felt about you, so maybe they figured it was me. But I never told anyone. But I did hear Bucky mentioning something to Steve about you..pressing the flowers?” her smile widened “Did you really?”

You felt heat rise up the back of you neck as you smiled “Maybe.”

She laughed before she took another step closer, pressing her forehead against yours as she stared into your eyes, “I’m very glad that you liked the flowers so much, and I hope you are alright with the things that I said.”

“I’m more than alright with them Wanda. I loved them. And I...” you hesitated, wondering if you should say what you were truly feeling. But maybe it was too soon? Though, the roses. They were the first flowers you had received that you already knew the meaning of. So, was this Wanda’s own way of confessing...of telling you?

“I know.” she said “Me too.” she replied, answering your unspoken question.

You smiled widely at each other before leaning in together and meeting in a kiss. A feeling of ease and happiness ran through you as your mind was silenced. There was no more anxiety or busy thoughts, just peace, acceptance, and happiness.

xx xx xx xx xx

This is the last ending being posted for this event. So I hope you all liked them!!

If you did like this, please consider reblogging it, and maybe check out the other endings as well!~

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tiffdawg · 3 years

Text

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen

Gif: @bestintheparsec

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 7.0k

Rated: E | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Fifteen

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

“Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn��t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 💗

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Javier: @wander-lustbabe

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