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#but this one was reported in English for a change

useless-catalanfacts · 24 days

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Every other week there is another case of Spanish police spying on Catalan activists, journalists, politicians, or just random Catalan people, or secret Spanish police infiltrated in our social/cultural movements. This is exhausting.

#lots of things happening lately. i haven't been posting much because I don't have a lot of time and it's depressing #but this one was reported in English for a change #actualitat #coses de la terra #catalonia #catalan #spain #freedom of thought #minorities #national minorities #apple #proton #protonmail #wire #tech #tech news

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starlightshadowsworld · 4 months

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The youngest Palestinian journalist is a 9 year old girl.

Her name Lama Jamous.

Lama has been reporting on tik tok what has been happening in Gaza. Her father is a journalist working for Al Jazeera and is trying to get her out of Rafah.

Link to the gofundme from the video

Please share her story.

Edited to include video description provided by @a-captions-blog

[Video description: TikTok by @ZerlinaSchmerlina, whose face is edited over a photo of a Palestinian child holding a phone camera up to the sea. This was posted by lama_jamous9. Zerlina says: This is Lama. She is a nine-year-old Afro-Palestinian journalist who lives in Gaza, and her father is trying really hard to get her evacuated into Egypt. There is a GoFundMe link in my bio where people have raised well over $48,000. I think It's like $52,000 right now to help get her and her family into Egypt. But what is really really important that we can do is please make videos, and please share and repost videos really raising awareness about the urgency of getting her into safety, her and her family to safety. I have tagged Al Jazeera English in this caption, but you can also tag them in your own videos that you make, in the comment section on Instagram etc. Please help raise awareness. [The background photo changes to show Lama holding a pink flower up to the camera.] Constant effort and pressure for a ceasefire can sometimes feel hopeless when our governments are not listening to us, but if there’s something we can do to help one, two, three children, let’s please do it. Please make a video and help raise awareness, and help put the pressure on to bring her and her family into safety. \End description]

#free palestine #lama jamous #anti israel #anti zionisim #palestine #gaza #free gaza

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dostoyevsky-official · 20 days

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Last August, Lucy Letby, a thirty-three-year-old British nurse, was convicted of killing seven newborn babies and attempting to kill six others. Her murder trial, one of the longest in English history, lasted more than ten months and captivated the United Kingdom. The Guardian, which published more than a hundred stories about the case, called her “one of the most notorious female murderers of the last century.” The collective acceptance of her guilt was absolute. “She has thrown open the door to Hell,” the Daily Mail wrote, “and the stench of evil overwhelms us all.”

The case galvanized the British government. The Health Secretary immediately announced an inquiry to examine how Letby’s hospital had failed to protect babies. After Letby refused to attend her sentencing hearing, the Justice Secretary said that he’d work to change the law so that defendants would be required to go to court to be sentenced. Rishi Sunak, the Prime Minister, said, “It’s cowardly that people who commit such horrendous crimes do not face their victims.”

The public conversation rushed forward without much curiosity about an incongruous aspect of the story: Letby appeared to have been a psychologically healthy and happy person. She had many close friends. Her nursing colleagues spoke highly of her care and dedication. A detective with the Cheshire police, which led the investigation, said, “This is completely unprecedented in that there doesn’t seem to be anything to say” about why Letby would kill babies. “There isn’t really anything we have found in her background that’s anything other than normal.”

The judge in her case, James Goss, acknowledged that Letby appeared to have been a “very conscientious, hard working, knowledgeable, confident and professional nurse.” But he also said that she had embarked on a “calculated and cynical campaign of child murder,” and he sentenced her to life, making her only the fourth woman in U.K. history condemned to die in prison.

[...] The N.H.S. has a totemic status in the British psyche—it’s the “closest thing the English have to a religion,” as one politician has put it. One of the last remnants of the postwar social contract, it inspires loyalty and awe even as it has increasingly broken down, partly as a result of years of underfunding. In 2015, the infant-mortality rate in England and Wales rose for the first time in a century. A survey found that two-thirds of the country’s neonatal units did not have enough medical and nursing staff.

[...] A woman came to the hospital after her water broke. She was sent home and told to wait. More than twenty-four hours later, she noticed that the baby was making fewer movements inside her. “I was concerned for infection because I hadn’t been given any antibiotics,” she said later. She returned to the hospital, but she still wasn’t given antibiotics. She felt “forgotten by the staff, really,” she said. Sixty hours after her water broke, she had a C-section. The baby, a girl who was dusky and limp when she was born, should have been treated with antibiotics immediately, doctors later acknowledged, but nearly four hours passed before she was given the medication. The next night, the baby’s oxygen alarm went off. “Called Staff Nurse Letby to help,” a nurse wrote. The baby continued to deteriorate throughout the night and could not be revived. A pathologist found pneumonia in the baby’s lungs and wrote that the infection was likely present at birth.

[...] A team from the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health spent two days interviewing people at the Countess [Letby's hospital]. They found that nursing- and medical-staffing levels were inadequate. They also noted that the increased mortality rate in 2015 was not restricted to the neonatal unit. Stillbirths on the maternity ward were elevated, too. [...] The Royal College could find no obvious factors linking the deaths; the report noted that the circumstances on the unit were “not materially different from those which might be found in many other neonatal units within the UK.”

[...] In September, 2022, a month before Letby’s trial began, the Royal Statistical Society published a report titled “Healthcare Serial Killer or Coincidence?” The report had been prompted in part by concerns about two recent cases, one in Italy and one in the Netherlands, in which nurses had been wrongly convicted of murder largely because of a striking association between their shift patterns and the deaths on their wards. The society sent the report to both the Letby prosecution and the defense team. It detailed the dangers of drawing causal conclusions from improbable clusters of events. In the trial of the Dutch nurse, Lucia de Berk, a criminologist had calculated that there was a one-in-three-hundred-and-forty-two-million chance that the deaths were coincidental. But his methodology was faulty; when statisticians looked at the data, they found that the chances were closer to one in fifty.

[...] “Looking for a responsible human—this is what the police are good at,” Schafer [a law professor at the University of Edinburgh who studies the intersection of law and science] told me. “What is not in the police’s remit is finding a systemic problem in an organization like the National Health Service, after decades of underfunding, where you have overworked people cutting little corners with very vulnerable babies who are already in a risk category. It is much more satisfying to say there was a bad person, there was a criminal, than to deal with the outcome of government policy.”

[...] Several months into the trial, Richard Gill, an emeritus professor of mathematics at Leiden University, in the Netherlands, began writing online about his concerns regarding the case. Gill was one of the authors of the Royal Statistical Society report, and in 2006 he had testified before a committee tasked with determining whether to reopen the case of Lucia de Berk. England has strict contempt-of-court laws that prevent the publication of any material that could prejudice legal proceedings. Gill posted a link to a Web site, created by Sarrita Adams, a scientific consultant in California, that detailed flaws in the prosecution’s medical evidence. In July, a detective with the Cheshire police sent letters to Gill and Adams ordering them to stop writing about the case. “The publication of this material puts you at risk of ‘serious consequences’ (which include a sentence of imprisonment),” the letters said. “If you come within the jurisdiction of the court, you may be liable to arrest.”

Letby is housed in a privately run prison west of London, the largest correctional facility for women in Europe. Letters to prisoners are screened, and I don’t know if several letters that I sent ever reached her. One of her lawyers, Richard Thomas, who has represented her since early in the case, said that he would tell Letby that I had been in touch with him, but he ignored my request to share a message with her, instead reminding me of the contempt-of-court order. He told me, “I cannot give any comment on why you cannot communicate” with Letby. Lawyers in England can be sanctioned for making remarks that would undermine confidence in the judicial system. I sent Myers, Letby’s barrister, several messages in the course of nine months, and he always responded with some version of an apology—“the brevity of this response is not intended to be rude in any way”—before saying that he could not talk to me.

[...] Michael Hall, the defense expert, had expected to testify at the trial—he was prepared to point to flaws in the prosecution’s theory of air embolism and to undetected signs of illness in the babies—but he was never called. He was troubled that the trial largely excluded evidence about the treatment of the babies’ mothers; their medical care is inextricably linked to the health of their babies. In the past ten years, the U.K. has had four highly publicized maternity scandals, in which failures of care and supervision led to a large number of newborn deaths.

[...] Johnson, the prosecutor, pushed her to come up with her own explanation for each baby’s deterioration. Yet she wasn’t qualified to provide them. “In general, I don’t think a lot of the babies were cared for on the unit properly,” she offered. “I’m not a medical professional to know exactly what should and shouldn’t have happened with those babies.”

“Do you agree that if certain combinations of these children were attacked then unless there was more than one person attacking them, you have to be the attacker?” Johnson asked at one point.

“No.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No. I’ve not attacked any children.”

Johnson continued, “But if the jury conclude that a certain combination of children were actually attacked by someone, then the shift pattern gives us the answer as to who the attacker was, doesn’t it?”

“No, I don’t agree.”

“You don’t agree. Why don’t you agree?”

“Because just because I was on shift doesn’t mean that I have done anything.”

[...] After a few days of cross-examination, Letby seemed to shut down; she started frequently giving one-word answers, almost whispering. “I’m finding it quite hard to concentrate,” she said.

Johnson repeatedly accused her of lying. “You are a very calculating woman, aren’t you, Lucy Letby?” he said.

“No,” she replied.

He asked, “The reason you tell lies is to try to get sympathy from people, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You try to get attention from people, don’t you?”

“No.”

“In killing these children, you got quite a lot of attention, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t kill the children.”

[...] Toward the end of the trial, the court received an e-mail from someone who claimed to have overheard one of the jurors at a café saying that jurors had “already made up their minds about her case from the start.” Goss reviewed the complaint but ultimately allowed the juror to continue serving.

He instructed the twelve members of the jury that they could find Letby guilty even if they weren’t “sure of the precise harmful act” she’d committed. [...] The jury deliberated for thirteen days but could not reach a unanimous decision. In early August, one juror dropped out. A few days later, Goss told the jury that he would accept a 10–1 majority verdict.

[...] The public conversation about the case seemed to treat details about poor care on the unit as if they were irrelevant. In his closing statement, Johnson had accused the defense of “gaslighting” the jury by suggesting that the problem was the hospital, not Letby. Defending himself against the accusation, Myers told the jury, “It’s important I make it plain that in no way is this case about the N.H.S. in general.” He assured the jury, “We all feel strongly about the N.H.S. and we are protective of it.” It seemed easier to accept the idea of a sadistic “angel of death” than to look squarely at the fact that families who had trusted the N.H.S. had been betrayed, their faith misplaced.

Since the verdicts, there has been almost no room for critical reflection. At the end of September, a little more than a month after the trial ended, the prosecution announced that it would retry Letby on one of the attempted-murder charges, and a new round of reporting restrictions was promptly put in place. The contempt-of-court rules are intended to preserve the integrity of the legal proceedings, but they also have the effect of suppressing commentary that questions the state’s decisions. In October, The BMJ, the country’s leading medical journal, published a comment from a retired British doctor cautioning against a “fixed view of certainty that justice has been done.” In light of the new reporting restrictions, the journal removed the comment from its Web site, “for legal reasons.” At least six other editorials and comments, which did not question Letby’s guilt, remain on the site.

it looks like a british nurse was wrongfully convicted based on poor evidence and the tabloid media environment. this new yorker article is embargoed in the uk!

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cmoundiamante · 1 month

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MINISKIRT ✦ S.JY

OWN LITTLE P*RN STAR SPIN-OFF

DEDICATED TO my baby girl @hollyoongs ̩̩͙ ໋:

pairing professor!jake x afab!reader

summary Strict and handsome, those were the main adjectives that described Sim Jaeyun. He was quick to scold you if you did anything that went against the rules of his class, but his guilty taste could get you off the hook if you only attended to his needs.

genre smut. college!au, one shot

warnings age gap (sjy 37. reader 23), pet names (miss t/n, princess, darling, whore, slut, good girl, sunshine.), mean!jake in his professor role and when he gets mad, machist & possessive!jake (kinda), the reader’s bsf is the pornstar (duh), dirty talk, blowjob, facejob, cum eating, missionary, unprotected sex, mentions of smoke and pornography, recording videos.

a/n DID YOU GUYS MISS ME? i was absent due to personal problems, I didnt have too much inspiration to write either, but here is what u were waiting for the most 😙😙 english is not my first language so pls be kind (: any correction will be considered, not only to improve reading but also for my learning ^^ enjoy this

wc 12,2k

• this is a olps spin off, so if u didn't read it, i recommend u to do so, as in some scenes there are references to parts of my other os

1 - Respect the fulfillment of assignment deliveries in a timely manner, otherwise this will alter your report grade.

2 - Attend the class with clothing appropriate to the university context.

3 - Failure to attend classes does not excuse the fulfillment of assigned tasks.

4 - Do not attend class with any type of food or drink other than water, totally forbidden to consume food inside the classroom.

5 - The use of the cell phone is allowed only with didactic use, otherwise it will be removed by the rest of the class by the teacher.

You could swear you knew these rules by heart, but these were just a few of the many rules in the Teaching Contract that Sim Jake updated annually. Mr. Sim was your teacher from the moment you entered this university practically, because since you managed to get your scholarship there wasn't a year in which you had another literature professor, it was always him.

Your platonic love for him was fueled by trying to see him in your free time at university. Although he was a very kind man outside of school, working transformed him into a completely different person. Despite his good humour and his princely face he was a man who would not forgive you for an undone task, 50 cents on an exam, nor for breaking his rules that were in the 'light penalties' section.

Today you had completely forgotten Jake's rules again, if you thought about him, but not his damn rules. You were in math class with Professor Nishimura, who unlike Jake was much younger and much more open-minded, clearly ignored your outfit, barely noticing your presence. When he left, you were shaking with fear because you knew your world was falling apart. In the middle of the time change, you turned around to see your friend, who was a little amused watching you squirm in your chair.

"Take this." She took her jacket off her chair and handed it to you. "Cover your legs with this, I think they will catch his attention more than your shoulders." She said, referring to the white tank top you were wearing and the black miniskirt that decorated your prominent hips. Without looking back, you realized that he had arrived because the whole classroom had fallen silent. "Give it to me," you whispered, snatching her jacket out of your best friend's hands, then unzipping it and covering your thighs.

You arranged your hair and fixed your gaze on him, who was giving an overview of the course. The first thing he did at the beginning of each class was to walk between the desks to greet us and tell us how his day went, at the same time he made sure that everything was in order and that each of his students fulfilled the long list of "student commitments". The wind you felt when he passed by your left side gave you goosebumps and raised your body temperature, making the jacket that was between your legs already a nuisance.

Jake walked past you again, this time head-on and to your bad luck you both made eye contact, calling Jake to take a closer look at you, finding your disobedience in the set of clothes you were wearing. "Miss Y/N, can you put on your jacket, pretty please? You can't have these kinds of clothes in my class." His tone was so soft that you could do what he asked of you with no problem, but your bare legs could create an even bigger problem, but you listened to him.

You didn't know if you did it because you wanted him to see you, but you managed to get him to keep his gaze glued to your thighs for a couple of seconds. When you finished putting on your friend's jacket, Jake grabbed your shoulder and massaged it a little, when you looked at him you felt a little bad about the face he was giving you. "This will lower your concept grade." He kept walking behind you, then you kept looking at him and then gave your friend an alert glance. You were both outraged by that stupid rule, but you couldn't do anything about it so you both would just have to swallow your anger.

"Bullshit," your companion whispered. He had already scolded you and it was already certain that your grades would go down, so your friend extended her hand, implying that you should give her back her jacket, but you played dumb. "What?" you looked at her confused. "He already scolded you, give me back my jacket." "He touched it... Can I keep it?" To all this, you communicated in whispers, which luckily among the murmurs of the whole course could not be heard. "Yes, of course, as if you hadn't taken off all my clothes," she replied wryly.

"Please, when you come home I'll give you the clothes you want," you said, clasping your hands in pleading, knowing that your friend still wasn't convinced. "We don't even have similar styles." "Pretty please? If we ever drift apart, I want you to have something of mine as a souvenir." She laughed. "I'll probably burn it later." You sarcastically glared at her, whispering an almost inaudible 'you, bitch'. "Fiiiiine, keep it," she said in an even louder tone, yet you were happy to have acquired something that he had made tact with.

New day, new clothes.

This time you did have a reason to wear those kinds of clothes. When you opened your closet, you had found literally nothing. Some clothes you haven't worn in years, ripped dresses that your asshole ex-boyfriend had torn before he fucked you hard, t-shirts with horrific prints that you wore at a controversial time in your life. Among so much shit you could find a crop top and a denim miniskirt, that to hide the outfit you wore the same jacket from yesterday that you had taken from your best friend.

To all this, your only excuse was your laziness to put the clothes that were in the laundry basket into the washing machine. Even if you put your clothes into the washing machine at the same time you knew you made a mistake, you were still going to go through this again, because the humid temperature of the city did not cooperate to dry the clothes hanging out in time.

You tried to get the jacket to cover at least half of your thighs, but the attempt was stupid, since you were in class and soon to hide your flesh from the sight of that teacher, who would clearly soon catch your attention again. "Miss Y/N, again?" he lowered his head, as much as that was a bad sign you couldn't help but feel excited by that move he made. "I can explain..." Your answer took a while to formulate as you wanted to speak without stuttering. "Okay, we'll talk after class then. Is that okay with you?" you gulp, and with a lump tied in your throat you nodded. "And remember..." As he spoke, he moved away from you, exposing your mistake in front of the whole course. "Your grades."

Trying to delete that embarrassing scene from your mind, class had started and you had to focus on it. For today's class, Jake had asked a text to print and bring to that same class. "Well guys, I want to believe that most of you brought the text I asked for, is there anyone who didn't bring it?" No one raised their hand, but it was obvious that he were asking to find out who should be downgraded and who should not. Luckily you weren't one of that group, as you held the paper in your hands.

"Alright, the text we're going to read today is called 'Thoughts I Never Told You', it was written by Joanne Collins, have any of you ever read it or do you know what it's about?" some 'no' was heard in a very low tone to answer Jake's question. "It is a confession written from the writer's point of view that expresses the daily thoughts that a woman has when she falls in love." With his hands decorated with some rings, he grabbed the sheet with the writing. "Who wants to start reading?" one of your classmates raised his hand and Jaeyun gave him the pass to read.

From then on your attention diminished, just following the reading without being interested in what the text said. You imagined fictional scenarios, or you just watched Mr. Sim, who was paying attention to the reading, concentrating on his sheet, which you want to be you so that he would appreciate you in that way. You lowered your gaze and managed to see how his blue shirt had the sleeves rolled up, revealing the middle of his arm that was decorated by some veins that exalted his skin. The white T-shirt he wore could show off his collarbones perfectly. Remembering his rules, he could also be the one who gets a penalty for wearing clothes that heated you in that way.

You couldn't think much more because the moment you tried to look down, he found you appreciating him. "Y/N, your turn." Your body temperature rose as you heard your name come out of his mouth. Your hands were shaking and wouldn't cooperate in being able to properly grasp the sheet of paper, so you just rested it on your desk to avoid further embarrassment.

"Sometimes I wonder what you did to keep me so mesmerized. My fingers are tired, but they wouldn't endure a night without replacing your place, giving me that feeling I want you to give me but it's probably impossible for you to give it to me." He absolutely gave you the worst part. "My body is possessed and my lower part unties crystalline threads forced to leave consequences of everything I thought about you last night. Oh, believe me, I used to see you as such a nice guy, but after those events passing in front of you was a real grief, because I had created a perspective of you that no one was going to prove to me if it was true or not." Who did this remind you of? Yes, you.

You didn't feel Jake's presence so close to you, surprising you when you found him by your side. "C’mon, keep going." This man wanted to kill you.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, my heart is pumping a thousand times an hour, my voice is cracking and making sounds that even I can't understand, my legs are shaking, my mind is dizzy. I don't know what I should do to fulfill my fantasy, I don't know if I should just love you a little less, but the desire is irresistible enough for you to leave me stranded longing for how much…” You didn't know how to read what was coming. “…my crotch calls your name."

You wanted Jake not to be looking at you and you had let yourself get carried away in the reading, never mind that some of your classmates laughed because they couldn't handle their immaturity. "Kayla, can you please keep reading?" Jake thankfully moved away from you, although you felt the temperature change because having him by your side kept you warm, the cold wind breeze made you get goosebumps.

The reading lasted the entire hour, but the class was over, indicating that it was time to talk to Jake alone. "For the next class we will do a question activity that will go into the exam, so if it’s necessary read the text again." At the end of the sentence, the bell rang indicating the time change.

"Wait for you at the exit." As you started putting your things in your backpack, you heard your friend said that behind you. Without waiting for a response from you, she withdrew with her classmates. From your desk you watched him very carefully, detecting every movement. As everyone left the classroom, he found himself closing the blinds on the windows that reflected the hallways, giving you hints that this was going to get weird. When no student was left in the classroom, only you, he closed the door.

"Come here." he sat down in his seat, manspreading, in front of his desk, which still had some of his belongings on top of it. He took off his glasses, taking that to mean that he had let you see a more youthful part of him, since although he was a man of almost 40 years old, he kept up quite well for his age.

"Explain yourself, why that kind of clothes again?" he grabbed a silk scarf and began to clean the lenses of his glasses, paying more attention to them being free of any stains than to your presence. "Well, I've had some problems with the washing machine this week and all the clothes that… cover me the most are dirty."

"Can't you borrow clothes from your friends like you did yesterday?" were you a little surprised with the advice he gave you, had he really heard everything? "Yes... But I don't understand what's wrong with the clothes." he raised his head to look you in the eye, making you feel small in front of him.

"In a school context it's not okay to dress the way you do, miss, for some reason it's in the pedagogical contract, isn't it?" you nodded. You folded your arms to try to cover yourself because of the embarrassment you had acquired from how he was talking to you, he really looked angry. "Also, personally, it's too distracting for me."

Did he really say it? Did you hear that right? Is it the same strict and innocent teacher you've had for years? Yes, he was. You were too stunned to speak. It wasn't in your plans to respond to him and he noticed, so he continued to tease you, putting on his glasses and again standing up to surround you.

"You know how I am, a perfectionist guy, I don't like not to be focused and have my classes go wrong." Jake used to speak in a very loud voice when talking in class, but when he whispered low in your ear you couldn't resist starting to melt, and not metaphorically, because a patch of moisture started to mark on your panties. "Mr. Sim..."

"Call me Jake... You don't want that either, do you?" he interrupted, making a gap of time between sentences. "No," you replied submissively, thinking that something else might happen. "Then start wearing more appropriate clothes or I'll have to rip these clothes off of you on my own. If you want to be half-naked in my class, that's how you will be." He acted naturally, as if it was normal what he had told you, he just walked away from you and started putting his stuff in his briefcase. "You can go." he ended the conversation, unaware that he had stunned you in front of him.

You quickly grabbed your backpack, and with quick steps you walked out of the classroom, slamming the door. He didn't know what was causing you, he wasn't aware of what he was doing to you.

You were really going to need a good fingering session when you got home.

His phrase was repeated in your mind over and over again, to the point of not letting you sleep. It was 5 A.M. and you kept imagining how your miniskirt was torn by him, how his fingers buried themselves in your skin leaving marks that couldn't disappear for days, his dick pushing inside you fitting perfectly to his thickness.

The fingering session was already done, but were you going to be able to look him in the eye after what happened? Of Course not.

Sleeping late paid off when you woke up at 2 p.m., clearly realizing you missed college. When you grabbed your cell phone from the bedside table, the first thing that popped on the screen were the thousands of messages from your best friend, who when you saw everything she sent you you could be a spectator of all her mood swings when she saw that you were not there. From despair to resignation.

you: im alright girl, ive jst fallen asleep

You didn't really have to do anything during the day, so you just had to decide between two options. One, lying in bed all day watching series and worrying about getting a good night's sleep. Or two, take care of your house, clean up, restock your cupboards and fridge, call someone to fix your washing machine. As the first option sounded tempting, the second was an obligation, so whether you wanted to or not you had to fulfill it.

Suddenly, your house was shiny. You took the whole afternoon to leave every space in your home aesthetically pleasing. Now it was time to go to the supermarket, since your cupboards were completely empty and you were feeding yourself on deliveries.

"Everything was easier when I lived with Mom." you said to yourself. You made the grocery list as you wandered around the kitchen, seeing what was missing and what wasn't. When you were done, you put the small sheet of paper in your pocket and left your house, ready to walk the 10 blocks to the supermarket.

You had the option of calling a taxi, or even taking the bus, but you just had more fun walking and enjoying the view of the streets of your city. Regretting the outfit you had decided to go out with, the wind hit harder and it started to cool down, but you weren't going to be embarrassed on the street so you just hid, trying not to tremble even though your legs showed goosebumps.

A familiar voice rang in your ears as you waited for the traffic light to change, it was in front of you. "Miss Y/N?" Shit, it was him. "Hello, Mr. Sim." he was inside his car, clearly waiting for the traffic light to change. "What are you doing?" his poker face was indispensable to you, it seems like forgetting everything he said to you yesterday, when you couldn't get that out of your mind. "Just gonna buy some stuff." You tried to talk as little as possible. "Do you want me to give you a ride to the market?"

"No, thank you very much, you don't have to." you shook your head with a smile, respecting the elder. "Don’t worry about it, please get in." Even though yesterday's embarrassment was still intact, you were already inside his car, and luckily he kept an eye on making sure the atmosphere was pleasant. "You missed classes today, didn't you?" the conversation began, without taking his eyes off the route.

"How do you know?" your gaze went from the window to seeing his face draw a smirk. "I didn't see you all day, plus I had to talk to your friend about the assignments she didn't turn in and she told me you hadn't come." You smiled a little at his concern, however you didn't hesitate to make a joke. "Pretty sure it was for you to scold me for the clothes I wore."

"What happened yesterday..." He clearly realized the mistake he made, and you decided to behave just like him. "Explain yourself." his face changed completely, but honestly it wasn't that you were paying attention to, it was his hands gripping the steering wheel. "It wasn't appropriate, I got angry, I'm so sorry." Even though you weren't looking at him, you could feel his eyes staring at you, showing that he was serious. But no, you couldn't forgive him when you loved what he had told you.

"Exactly, for the school context it wasn't appropriate..." He was silent. "But I don't know why you apologize when I've never told you that I was upset by what you told me."

"Isn't that comment I made offensive to a woman?" You were very close to the market, alarming you that you had to stop talking to him, but you didn't want that. "I don't remember what you told me, would you remind me?" he shook his head, parking the car in front of the market waiting for you to get out. "Come on, I'll wait for you here until you're done."

"Mr. Sim, you don't ha-" "Jake." he interrupted. "Jake, you don't have to." you insisted, to make sure that when you get home you can have the same routine you had yesterday. "I'm not going to let you go alone." Well, you admitted, it sounded cute, it made your cheeks a little red, your blood boil, and your core moist, but only a little bit.

Anyway, you got out of the car and took the list of products out of the pocket of your jacket, again the same jacket you wore for three consecutive days, because something you loved to be was outfit repeater. You needed milk, cereal, yogurt, fruit, meat, and some other things that were on the supermarket shelves. Luckily it didn't take you more than 20 minutes to grab everything and go to the checkout, where they also did everything very quickly.

You had filled two bags, which you put in the back seats of Jake's car, and then returned to your seat. "You did it fast." he had been a little startled to see you arrive again, since his attention was exclusively on his cell phone. "Yeah, I didn't want to make you wait long." He put his cell phone in his pants pocket and started the car again. "I already told you I don't care, princess." Him talking to you casually and calling you 'princess', this was your chance to start picking up those hints and returning them to him.

"I don't have to do anything now, so I can be your personal chauffeur if you want." His request didn't sound bad, but it's not like you had to do anything on a thursday afternoon. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" you shook your head, always maintaining eye contact with him. "Then let's go home." He looked at the traffic light, which turned the light green and sped up his speed. "My house?" you asked, confused by what he meant by home, to which he simply laughed. "Not your house, my house."

"For what?" was a forced but discreet invitation. "I hang out with quite a few of my students sometimes." Ouch, that meant you weren't the only one. "And it would be interesting to talk with you in my living room."

Jake got out of the car and opened your door for you to get out of the car. He lived in a building, that if you looked up it was impossible to count the number of floors it had. It already looked luxurious, but when you went to the lobby your theories that this man had a lot of money were nothing short of being true. You both got into the elevator and he pressed button number 15. You looked in the elevator mirrors to see if your makeup had smudged or if there was any imperfection on your face, and at some point you felt like Jake was giving you little glimpses.

When you left, in front of the elevator was his apartment. He took the keys out of his pants pocket and opened the door, letting you see one of his most intimate things, his home. It was quite modern inside, but you wondered if he had any special rooms in which he kept books, as any literature professor would. You started hearing footsteps in the distance, and you were terrified, until Jake said: "Layla!"

A rather large dog appeared in your field of view, overjoyed at the arrival of her owner. Jake bent down to pet her as the blonde dog licked his face to welcome him into her home. You found the scene very tender. "Come on, welcome to Y/N." he patted his tail and stood up, meanwhile he began to get rid of all the excess clothes he had, leaving only a white shirt. Then you paid attention to the dog, who was in front of you wagging her tail from side to side, finally you imitated Jake, bending down to pet her as well.

"Hey girl." she stuck out her tongue but unlike her owner, she didn't lick you. You ran one of your hands over her head and smiled as she closed her eyes to enjoy your cuddles. "Such a beautiful girl." Then you got up and looked at your teacher, who was with his arms crossed enjoying the scene reflected through his glasses.

"Do you like wine?" his question took you by surprise. "Not at all, why?" you confessed. You weren't a big fan of alcohol in general, but the scene you had in your head about what could happen tonight was something you didn't know if you could do sober, so wine could help. "I see." He started to walk and you just stood there watching him as he left, not feeling your presence near him he looked at you and made a gesture for you to follow him, so you obeyed.

His kitchen was immense, you could say it was a bit useless to have such a house when he spent more time in college than in his own home, but you weren't going to judge because he could do whatever he wanted with his money. The place had two doors, maybe you thought it could be a pantry, but two? "I have variety, some are soft, maybe you'll like them." Well, you were wrong, it wasn't a pantry, it was a winery. He opened the tinted glass door and turned on the light. The space was small, but the brown color of the shelves that held the bottles could make the space look a little more open.

"You can tell that you really like wine." Your comment made him smile. "Actually, before I started working in schools I was a sommelier." he told you, blowing your mind with his confession, you definitely needed to know more. "It's a pretty fine profession." you said, watching as Jake began to look at the bottles, occasionally grabbing one to see its brand. "What would you like to start with?"

"Choose for me, have no idea about wines." He grabbed two bottles and then both of you walked out of the cellar. In the middle of the kitchen he had a table made of marble, on which he rested the two wines and a glass. You sat and watched him uncork the wine, how his hands were so agile to have the cork in his hands in such a short time and serve you the wine in the glass in such a professional way. "What's this?"

"Oliver, Sweet red lime." handed you the cup. "It's made by concord grapes, it's pretty smooth so you'll probably taste like grape juice." You smelled a little bit of its essence, it didn't smell that bad but you did smell the smell of alcohol. "I've never drunk alcohol before." Jake laughed. "Then you would feel the alcohol." You kept pretending to take a sip. "Aren’t you gonna drink?” the cup brushed your lips, very close to the liquid touching your tongue. "Would you feel safer if I drink with you?" you nodded your head and smiled behind him as he got up from his chair to fetch another drink. When he returned, he poured himself some wine and held his glass to yours.

“Cheers” The glasses collided with each other, giving you the confidence to take the first sip, the second as well, and well... also the third. He looked at you attentively at your expressions, clearly to see if the wine had been to your taste, but you didn't pay attention to it when you finally had it looking at you as he did at the insignificant materials that had concentrated him. "What do you think?" you cleared your throat, in which the bitter taste of alcohol clearly stuck to it. "I thought it was going to be smoother, I felt the alcohol a lot."

"Do you want to try the other one?" "Let's go.", as much as you didn't like it, you took the last sip you had left to empty the glass. Jake repeated the same steps as the previous one when he opened it and again gave you the cup, and then poured himself into his glass. "This one is Purple Toad, it's quite similar to the other one but it has a particular flavor, if you guess what it is you have a prize."

“What kind of prize?” without waiting for you, Jake had already taken a sip. "You'll see later." You rolled your eyes and drank the wine, this one being much friendlier in taste. "I like this one better. It's smooth, the alcohol feels less." "Can you guess what it tastes like besides grape?" You took the last sip of the wine and stared at the glass for a few seconds, or at least until your taste buds guess the taste camouflaged in this liquid. "Blueberries maybe." "You're a pretty smart girl sometimes."

"Sometimes? Alright, what's my prize?" you felt a sexual tension in the air, but at the same time you thought you were exaggerating since you found it very difficult to fulfill your fantasies at this time of year. "Do you remember the text we read yesterday?" Your smile melted as you saw how he changed the subject so quickly. You nodded your head and without asking he grabbed your glass again to put some more wine in it, you agreed and went back to drinking some. "I felt embarrassed having to read that part in front of everyone.” you confessed, trying to sound like a claim. "You didn't look embarrassed, you narrated it pretty well." "Did I narrate it right?"

"It felt good to hear it come out of your mouth." Being a literature teacher, his vocabulary must be much more extensive and he would use words correctly and directly. But this left you even more confused. "Jake..." "You were thinking about me as you read it, weren't you?"

Should you get into him? Should you tell him everything you fantasized about or the times you sinned thinking about him? as your fingers worked hard to satisfy you from the uncontrollable desire trying to replace him. It was always him, which also didn't give you time to think about the consequences of that decision.

Jake dared to look at you after a while, you did the same. His eyes shone through a lustful gaze, as if you were the mouse and he was the wolf. "You're very obvious, did you know that?" You didn't like his game at all, you got up from your chair and started walking out of the kitchen, although since the apartment was very large you didn't remember well where you had to get out.

"Where are you going?" You didn't realize that Jake had followed you into the living room. "I can't stand people teasing me." Since he was behind you, it was easy to chain his arm around your waist preventing you from escaping, at the same time laughing at you very close to your ear. "You've got a lot of character, huh. I'll stop teasing you if you let me make you feel good." You stopped forging to break free of his grip and waited for him to keep talking, looking at him through your shoulder.

"How?" He felt how your body was relieved, the hand that was on your waist was tracing invisible patterns on your skin, which was destined for your pelvis. "Do you remember the text? 'The desire is irresistible enough for you to leave me stranded longing for how much my crotch calls your name.'" His voice kept having side effects on you, creating goosebumps for the fresh mint on his breath. "Do you think my crotch calls your name?"

"I'm not just a literature professor and a retired sommelier, darling. I know a lot about body language." You definitely liked smart men, this was turning into something else and you were enjoying it so bad. "So if I have your consent..." "Yes." you interrupted him in desperation. "Yes?" you couldn't stand being behind him and having to continue to endure his scent without being able to see him, so you turned around, raised your head to be able to look him in the eyes despite the height differences. “You have my consent.”

As much as your hands ran down his neck, he reacted much faster, placing his hands on both of your thighs and lifting you, without even applying force, looking like you were a light bag of feathers.

The first kiss you had with him felt magical, an experience never experienced before. While the guys you kissed at parties didn't do too badly. Instead, Jake, an older, experienced man, you knew he could make you feel better, that he did it better. The second kiss was passionate. It had that spark that the first one didn't have, making you surrender at his feet more than you already were. And finally, the third one, he made you understand why you were like this for him. So high by physical and sexual attraction that you suddenly felt that his lips didn't need to be on yours, but on another part of your body where the attention needed was stronger.

You didn't understand when you both entered his room. He slammed the door and with clumsy steps made his way to the bed, where he deposited your body, which was not so far from nakedness. Crop top, shorts, that stupid jacket, all very accessible so that in less than five minutes Jake has you at his disposal.

Both of you broke away from the kiss and started paying attention to each other. He took some time to look at your needy face, especially your pink cheeks, your physical build, your hair that slowly began to tousle as the action increased. On the other hand, you paid attention to his foggy glasses, his lips soaked with a thin layer of his mixed saliva, how part of his chest showed through the opening of his shirt, and above all, his hands. They were your favorite and visible part of his body. Long fingers, knuckles with a pink smudge that you loved, a good shape and above all the veins that decorated it.

You grabbed one of them and began to adore its torso. "Such veiny hands." your comment did not go unnoticed by Jake, who knew perfectly well in what sense it was going. The same hand you were holding went straight to your neck, not squeezing it, just decorating it as if it were a necklace. "Do you like veiny hands?" you nodded your head as best you could, as his hand was immobilizing you a bit, but you didn't complain. "It just makes me wonder if your dick is as veiny as your hands."

"We haven't even started and you're already thinking about my cock? You, dirty whore." Deep down you knew he liked your comment, just as you liked him calling you a whore. You'd let him degrade you and call you out in every way possible to make you his. "It's not the first time I've done it, anyway." Jake forced his hand on your neck and brought your face a little closer to attack him again with that kissing combo he had prepared for you.

Your hands lightly touched the buttons of his shirt, not at all ready to unbutton them, however soon you lost the embarrassment and his shirt was completely open, leaving his torso exposed and the necklace that decorated his body was released, slowly touching your collarbones while you panted on his lips when you felt the cold of the metal.

The hand that was on your neck, traced a line down the middle of your body, slowly going down towards the end of your crop top, which Jake didn't pull out but did lift it. "No bra, that’s why your nipples were visible." His thumb went straight to your mouth to lubricate and he began massaging your left nipple in circles, which soon became sensitized and hard. "It's what dirty whores do, isn't it?" again he pressed your lips to his to shut you up, forcing your tongue to rub against his.

Jake stood up and finished taking off his shirt, throwing it somewhere in his room, at the same time unzipping his pants as well. You watched him attentively to his movements, enjoying it as if it were a striptease, but he was not the only one who was undressing, since in a quick movement your boobs were exposed to him, who although he was busy doing something else could not help but bite his lip when he finally saw beyond your body.

Already bare-chested, he lunged back at you without dropping his full weight, tactically catching your lips again. "This is what you do with your students when you hang out with them?" as he interrupted each word, he gasped on your lips, and the sound was so delicious that you didn't need to hear it much longer to feel your folds brush against the cold, wet fabric of your panty. "Not really." didn't sound confident, but he didn't stop the physical contact. "Many of the students I hanged out were attracted to me, but none were as fortunate as you to be in your shoes." You understood his need to make you jealous, but as much as you wanted to ask him thousands of questions about those students, you simply gave him a smile.

The talk that had flowed in between the kisses caused Jake to despair, not realizing that when you kissed him again he was simply in boxers. It was melange gray, and you wanted to believe that he had put it on purpose to mark his bulge, which by the way, you thought was impossible for him to enter through your hole.

You didn't want to look desperate, so you began a trip of rubbing that started with his collarbones, ran all over his chest and abdomen, his pelvis was not missing and finally, the part you were desperate to touch. His massive dressed cock. Jake didn't push your touch away but your lips did, pulling his head back. "I barely touched it." you tease him. To contradict yourself, you wrapped your palm around his dick, unable to fully grip him because his boxers avoided gripping. "You're touching it too much right now."

From Jake's mouth came faint puffs of air and sounds that were inaudible but only your receptive core understood. "Can I ask you something?" his voice sounded so good when he was agitated. You nodded, waiting for him to speak. "Have you ever done a facejob?" you were left on the bed processing his question. You didn't know what it was until you understood why its name, handJOB, blowJOB...

"No, but I can try." You couldn't see his reaction because at the same time your eyes went to his boxers, which were no longer a hindrance and a block to see his cock. "So pretty and so willing." You were really amazed at how beautiful it was visually. His tip was pink and it was moistened by precum, you swore it could have the same texture as his lips.

"What should I do?" you asked. "Spit," Jake ordered, putting the palm of his hand in front of your mouth, you let out a spit that he used to lubricate its length. "Just close your eyes, or don't do it, the way you want, unless you want to get conjunctivitis."

"Have you done it before?" he nodded, "May I know with who?" he tugged at his member gently, grabbed your face, appreciating your doggy eyes, which for some reason made him shudder. "I don't see the need to make the environment uncomfortable by answering that question." Even though he was self-stimulating, his voice was firm and thick, not like it had been a while ago. As time went by, you became aware of his many facets.

"I don’t mind to know, just curious." His hand went down to your neck to handle you more easily. "My ex-wife." “Did she like it?" he shook his head "We tried it once and she thought it didn't feel right so it wasn't repeated, but I held out for several years without a facejob." He was dying of urgency and his face showed it, so you grabbed the hand that was pumping his dick and brought it close to your face. "Let me make you feel good then."

You lay on your back and Jake stood on top of you, exactly right next to your face. He patted his dick on your face a couple of times, unexpectedly his hand grabbed the entirety of your face, warning you to close your eyes. He kept his member clinging to your features, soaking them and keeping a gentle rhythm for the time being.

Jake, even though his head was pulled back, his eyes were still riveted on you. He let out a few giggles camouflaged with gasps because of how tender you looked trying to open your mouth to stick out your tongue and take care of the lower part of his neck. He had to capture that image, and he couldn't do it just in that moment, he needed it forever.

His pants were very close to him, so when he saw them accessible he moved his body a bit, not enough to stop pleasing himself on you but to grab his pants, where his cell phone was in his pocket. "Are you okay with me filming you?" He would talk to you while you were under him, you could barely talk but you managed to be able to answer him. "If you promise to do nothing wrong with that video." With just a few taps to the screen, he opened the camera, focusing on your face and tapping the button to start the video.

He kept expelling precum from his tip, depositing every drop on your face. You had been grateful that he had advised you to close your eyes, otherwise you might have thrown a tantrum because you felt your eyes burn. He grunted under his breath, enjoying what he couldn't in so many years.

From time to time you would open your mouth in an attempt to catch his cock with your tongue, but it was simply useless because he tried his best not to let you, even though your desperation captivated him, turning your desires into commands. His hand stopped pressing against your face and finally pulled its length into your mouth.

As you were still underneath him, there was very little ability to move that you had, but it wasn't impossible, you were optimistic and it was too hot a time for you to give up on doing something so quickly. You moved your neck back and forth trying to get your throat used to his length so you could take it all, but you were right when you thought it wasn't going to fit in your mouth.

Jake pulled it out of your mouth and started jerking it off with his hand, returning it back to the starting position they had. "You don't have to take it all if you can't." His cell phone was still in his hands, but it wasn't pointed at you. "I've taken bigger dicks." you lied, you tried to make him jealous. His was definitely the biggest you'd ever experimented with. "I just haven't fucked in months." brushed his tip over your lips. The fluids between the two of you were enough to make this scene the most disgusting you've ever seen and his member easily enter your oral cavity again.

He cut the video, throwing his cell phone to the side of the bed, and with that same hand he grabbed your head tightly over your hair to finally be able to cum in your mouth, which if it wasn't for his composure, he could not have tolerated it and would have already cum within five seconds of you having let yourself be fucked by your mouth.

Which he did, because he couldn't stand it any longer, painting your whole throat with his load. Jake grunted under his breath, growing weak because his body was shaking like jelly. Jake's face was close to yours, and you grabbed him and pulled him closer, connecting to each other with a kiss mixed with saliva and his own cum, which he clearly didn't reject.

His hand went over your anatomy again even though his mouth is close to yours. His fingers found the seam of your shorts, which soon came down at the same time as your panties. Both pieces of clothing fell to the floor, now leaving you completely exposed, unconsciously brushing his tip on your clit, which soon slipped due to the humidity that invaded it.

"Please do something?" you asked, feeling overwhelmed by every touch he gave you. "Jake I need you so much, please stop torturing me." Jake put a smile on his face just hearing your words, then he played with you by smashing his huge cock against your tense and sensitive pussy.

"What do you want?" he asked. "If you don't use words, I'll stop here." You began to gasp as you shook your head from side to side. "No, no, please." "Tell me what you want, baby girl." You thought twice about your words before opening your mouth to avoid stuttering. "Please, fuck me." your faces were so close that you could still smell the grapes and alcohol that his mouths expelled. "Make me yours."

"You were mine a long time ago." That phrase was sensual enough to captivate you again and attack his lips in response, at the same time you felt how the space of your entrance was replaced by his length. A sudden moan vibrated between the lips of the two of you, but unfortunately his dick didn't go all in at once.

"You're going to take it all," you nodded desperately, gasping for breath as his cock moved and filled you completely. But no matter how small your hole is, you couldn't refuse his requests, you had to do what he told you and get your pretty pussy used to his size. One of his hands met one of your breasts by surprise, causing your nipples to stiffen no matter how hot Jake's hand was.

"Jake.." you groaned, not knowing that you were causing him crazy by talking to him like that. You were so lubricated by your natural fluids that it became easy for Jake to move inside you, and in turn bury himself deeper into you, finally making his entire member occupy your cunt. "Just like that.. Fuck."

You threw your head back when you bit your lip, but it was in vain, for every thrust caused countless incoherent gasps to come out of your mouth. He still didn't do it to the point of making you scream and cry, even though he looked like he fucked like that. It was still a pleasant pain, but never experienced before.

"You can tell you're enjoying this." Your eyes rolled back as I increased the speed. Out of inertia, your hand grabbed the arm with which it was held so as not to drop all his weight on top of you, squeezing his bare muscle leaving your nails marked. "Fuck yeah." you couldn't stop squealing and you really felt on the edge, Jake had noticed it by how your walls squeezed him, making him very close to painting your gummy walls white as well.

The force he applied gradually became more abrupt, although, actually it wasn't necessary to make you hot, as his entire presence made you blush and drip. "How much did you want this?" growled Jake over you. The thrusts continued at his pace, but it seemed to you that it was something you could no longer contain.

He finally did. He brought all of its length into you.

"A lot." incomprehensible. "I don't hear you, pretty. Say it again," he ordered. His other hand went to your naked clitoris, which was hard and tender from the heat you had picked up since you arrived at his house. "I've waited a long time for this." Jake couldn't stand much either, because the movements of his hand were silly and he kept fucking you like a fucking beast.

You didn't help him much either by moaning at him how much you wanted him. Your body trembles, your mind becomes dizzy, it is impossible to speak or do anything in this state of madness, so finally his hand was covered by a glowing layer of poisonous lust. The humidity helped him to make his movements frequent, the heat of your cave made him finally discharge inside you.

When he came out of you, you were finally able to take the first breath of air so that you could regulate yourself. Jake kept his gaze on your shiny pussy, which for some reason was acting in the same way you did, expelling from your hole what Jake had left inside.

You threw your head back and stopped feeling tense, closed your eyes and discovered what calm was. "How do you feel?" you kept your eyes closed but you felt the mattress sink next to you, letting you know that Jake had lied down with you. "Did you like it?" you shuddered to feel him so close to your ear, but it also made you laugh.

"It felt really good Jake" you opened your eyes to see him. He was sweating, that shiny layer that abounded on his face premonished more on his lips, making them look more pompous. And of course, more kissable. "This will make you forgive me for wearing miniskirts?"

Apparently you know how to manifest or something like that, but Sim's lips again connected with yours. "You know I love your miniskirts." He said between kisses. "Why do you get angry when I wear them?" "I don't want people to see you dressed like that." He stopped kissing for a second to get a good look at you closely. "If you come here, I don't have a problem with you to wear them." You laughed at his jealousy scene.

"But I want you to know that will still lower your grades." He got out of bed and started looking for his boxers. You tried not to laugh when you saw that he still a little bit hard, feeling dirty about it. "Jake, come on.” You leaned on your arms and watched Jake as he put on his boxers. "When you learn to dress properly, I will forgive you. Now, ass up sunshine, let's go to sleep."

You woke up early, so early that you could find Jake still sleeping peacefully. His arm was wrapped around your entire body, and the force he exerted on you made it impossible for you to break free from his grip. You managed to pull out an arm, which you used to grab your cell phone and see the time, 5:30 A.M.

When you were finally able to get out of bed, you get dressed again, making sure you didn't make too much noise so you wouldn't wake him up. You saw him for the last time, appreciating how he pouted as he let out little snores, thinking he looked very cute that way.

You ran away from his department, thankful he didn't notice. When you left the apartment you felt that it was still night, as it was dark and there was absolutely no one roaming the streets at that time. Then you remembered that you had both come here by car, and you realized that your house was too far away to walk alone, so you simply asked for an uber.

The minutes passed, you had already checked instagram, tiktok, twitter, snapchat, and still the cell phone bored you, all because the damn uber didn't arrive. 6 A.M., at this point you imagined that Jake had already woken up and realized that you had practically disappeared, you had also realized that you were already late for college, since at this time you were about to leave your house to catch the bus.

Fortunately, as the sun reappeared, the uber teleported in front of you as if by magic trick. You opened the door and without greeting the driver told him your home address and handed him some bills, no matter the cost.

You rushed out of the car, already prepared with the keys in hand to open the door and close it behind you, not worrying about locking it again. You were thankful that you could live alone, because the noise you were making was something your parents couldn't stand. You undressed and grabbed the first pieces of clothing you saw, you didn't really care anymore if it was provocative clothes or not, you just wanted to wear something suitable for college.

You went to the bathroom and tied your hair up to grab a makeup remover towel and start pulling out the tears with mascara that had left traces of what happened last night, while you were rushing to leave your face clean, you couldn't help but smile a little from the flashbacks. As much as your face had turned red from the force with which you rubbed your face, you didn't care, with the ponytail and your face fresh, you grabbed your backpack and left your house, this time remembering to close the door properly.

You were walking fast to get to the bus stop, which just got there and parked to let some people in. You paid for your ticket and found a window seat to sit on, which is where you left off for the rest of the trip.

You had a two-hour trip to college, so you decided to lay your head on the glass and sleep. The silence of the people showed that they were in the same situation as you, just woken up, not wanting to talk, not wanting to work, not wanting to do anything, so on the other hand you were grateful for the peace to be able to concentrate on being able to coincide with the dream.

The sun's rays went straight into your eyes, but that wasn't the only thing that woke you up, it was also the realization that you had to be on time for your classes. You turned on your phone and panicked. 7:50, you had only ten minutes. You clutched your head in frustration, trying not to rip it off, metaphorically.

In the midst of the desperation to get there early, your best friend sent you a message.

bitch🪽: bitch, where the fuck are u now?

you: IM OMW

you: i just woke up, i wasn't home and i fell asleep late last night

bitch🪽:where have u been?

you: …

you: wait for me to get there

You thought the bus driver would do everything he could so you didn't make it to your first class.

When you arrived in the classroom, Jake's disapproving look on you was something you couldn't help but feel intimidated by, even knowing that you had left him completely alone after everything that had happened last night. "Did you see the time, miss?" You shrugged your arms melting in shame. "My apologies, sir." Jake kept looking at you, but you broke eye contact to go sit in your seat. You did your best to get your things ready and then turn to look at your friend. "I did something wrong yesterday." Her face showed confusion. "But I don't regret about anything."

"What? Did you kill someone?" the way she exaggerated made you shake your head. "Bitch, you didn't tell me anything, what have you done?" you looked sideways, not only paying attention to your classmates, but particularly to the teacher, who for the moment, was not looking at you, feeling relieved. "Professor Sim." your friend's face changed flatly, "Girl, don't tell me that-" "I slept with him." She opened her mouth, but you didn't know exactly if her face showed happiness, surprise, or disapproval of sleeping with someone twice your age. "If I could do it, so could you."

"Nah, he's yours, thank you so much for the offer anyway." "Who told you it was going to be with Jake?" you didn't realize that you raised your voice, catching some glances from your classmates, who were just looking at you like a weirdo. You didn't realize it, but you were hoping that someone didn't listen to you. "I've seen you look at Professor Park during class," you whispered and smirked. "You eat his bulge with your eyes."

Your partner laughed a little. "Maybe... Anyway, it's just an erotic desire." The two of you were shameless to talk about these kinds of topics in public, but you were both willing to break the taboo. "If I were him I'd fuck you, you're too sexy just to exist." The wry compliment you said served to turn his cheeks red. "You flatter me."

"Okay, speaking about Sunghoon, how are you doing with your studies?" You saw her take her stuff out of her backpack while you talked to her, so you took it as advice and started doing the same thing before class started. "I have it under control, but I have a question about some concept." "You already have an excuse to go see him today." You recommended her, knowing full well that he would do it later. Jake's voice echoed throughout the classroom, creating goosebumps, when you turned to pay attention to his class, you were slowly melting in your seat because of how his eyes looked at you, you felt like daggers were coming out of them and they were digging into your skin, because something you knew, It's just that wasn't a look from someone who's happy.

You'd reaffirm it to yourself mentally, you were fucked up.

"How many questions will your exam have?" It was the beginning of the week, while Sunghoon was with his computer corroborating some excels, Jake was near the window facing the outside, smoking a cigarette. "Ten." The atmosphere was quiet despite how Park pressed the keyboard. "There will be seven development questions and three activities." "Can I see?" Jake took his last puff on his cigarette and then threw it out the window, so that it would fall, only God knows where. He walked over to where Sunghoon was centered and lowered his torso slightly so that he could properly see the questions.

What Sunghoon had shown him was a Google docs, and Sim inadvertently diverted his gaze to the bar of pages that Sunghoon had open. "Daddy cums harder... Pussy squirting..." As Jake continued reading, Sunghoon closed the window, showing only the excel presentation, despite his poker face Jake knew him well enough to know he was embarrassed. "I can't believe you have those pages open when you're working."

"It's none of your business, Sim." Jake smiled as he saw Sunghoon's face turn red, it seems like they never had this kind of conversation. "You know I watched that video what you recommended me." Jake moved the chair next to Sunghoon, sitting up and spreading his legs to get into a comfortable position. "What are you talking about?" Sunghoon's eyes were protected by the lenses of his glasses, which did not detach from the screen, but one of his skills was multitasking. "SluttyMila... Did you see her last video?" Jake managed to stop this from being so, Sunghoon's eyes quickly moved to Jake's figure upon hearing that name.

"No, why?" As he waited for Sim's response, his fingers worked on the computer to open google again and search for the Pornhub account. "It's impossible that you didn't watch it, if it became viral." When he opened the page he found the thumbnail in which he was a participant, he tried not to smile at this so he just licked his lips. "It's fucking insane, you have to watch it." Looking at the statistics, he understood what Jake meant.

48M views. 368,7k Likes. 42k Comments.

"I'll watch it when I get home." He was definitely going to do it. It doesn't matter that he starred in it, that he was there to live it, he needed to see that moment from the perspective of an observer. However, it was work time, even though he had been carried away by lust several times, his co-worker was there with him, although he knew him too well to know what was so morbid that perhaps he would be able to jerk off with him in college.

"Do you have to teach later?" Jake shook his head, staring at the ceiling. "I have an hour to spare, I think I'll be left alone scheduling the next class for course C." Jake got up from his chair to go get his briefcase, which when he opened it took out one of the perfumes he carried everywhere, Jo Malone Blackberry & Bay, to cover up the smell of tobacco that had permeated his clothes. "What about you?" Sunghoon's response was immediate, turning off the computer and putting it in his briefcase, then getting up from his chair and heading for the door. "Course A." Exactly, your course.

Sunghoon said goodbye to Jake, leaving him completely alone in the professors room. He had nothing to do, so he simply spent some of his time looking out the window, to the school corridors, until he saw some students loitering. He got up from his seat and opened the door, looking in the direction of both boys, who were astonished to see Jaeyun in the doorframe, characteristically not at his best.

"Don't you have a class to attend, guys?" his voice demanded authority from the frightened looks of both guys. "Y-yes.. I'm sorry," one of them replied. "What's your course?" asked Sim. The guys looked at each other as if to say 'we're fucked up'. "Course B." Without having to say a word, Jake watched the young people vanish from his sight, but the presence of another figure walked in front of him, recognizing who it was and forcing her by his arm into the professors room.

He wasn't aware of the force he applied to your arm, causing you to complain a bit about the pain it had caused. "Jake, that hurt." "Why have you been ignoring me since Wednesday?" he asked authoritatively. Since Jake had treated and looked at you that day, you hadn't liked him at all, even though you knew it was partly your fault for leaving him alone that morning, but you didn't want to face him again. "I'm so sorry, I'm just..." interrupted you. "Give me a reason to know why you left me alone." You had a hot face with embarrassment, staring at the floor tiles because you couldn't look him in the eye, so he just grabbed you by the chin, not putting much force like he did when he grabbed your arm, and forced you to look at him.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" it was in vain what he did, for likewise your dilated pupils remained over the buttons of his shirt. "You don't..." "Then tell me why." "I was embarrassed of what I did." You swallowed hard for lying to him, knowing inwardly that you didn't know why you had done it. "Embarrassed of what?" Jake's hands let you go, now moving away from you to leave you standing trembling as he enjoyed it from a different point of view. "Maybe because not every day I sleep with someone 14 years older than me." to Jake's ears your answer was believable, taking him by surprise because he was also smart enough to know your body language.

"You're a young lady, that doesn't take away from the fact that you're an adult." Jake grabbed the chair he had previously sat in and rested his ass on it again. You watched him move through space, standing still at the only point where you felt comfortable at the time. "Why don't you come here and apologize? You must be mature enough to accept your mistakes." Little by little you moved, around the table and in front of him, keeping your eyes down to look him in the eye. "How can I get you to forgive me?" "Get on your knees." your knees made contact with the floor, however it didn't hurt as much because they were padded by your jeans.

"Wanna know something?" you spoke, as Jake's hand caressed your cheek. "I felt bad about how you looked at me the other day." Jake chuckle underneath, letting out a voice you hadn't heard before, an even deeper voice. "Do you know how bad I felt when you left me in my bed all alone?" To all this, his fingers were still massaging your face, but neither of you was happy. "Being embarrassed is not the same as being a dick." But his hand advanced to the nape of your neck and grabbed your hair, unconsciously you moaned. "Believe me, I have no bad intentions with you, but you make it so difficult for me."

"Do I make it hard for you?" his eyes became so connected that they even electrocuted. "Do I make you hard?" you smiled, feeling Jake's hand loosen your hair, freeing you from his grip. As much as you had his crotch in front of you, it was impossible to see his erection because of his black pants, so you just went up your hand down his legs until you reached his bulge, confirming that yes, he was hard. "You're so disgusting that you don't even ask for my consent." Your mischievous hand made its way to the zipper of his pants, pulling them down and brushing the fly against his painful erection. "You're so disgusting that you don't even mind getting a blowjob at your workplace." Jake licked his lips.

"Who's going to give me a blowjob?" he asked, his lips half-parted. “Me” Without warning Jake's cock was already on the outside, being connected to his boxer by those sharp threads of precum, which were still shooting out of his tip. Jake didn't even stop you, he just looked you in the eye and without saying a word gave you the green card, shaking his head signaling you to start your work.

You were so right. He was a pervert, a disgusting, a completely pathetic man for letting you do this to him in the place where he's supposed to be working. His elbow rested on the table and the hand of that same arm was in charge of supporting his face preventing any kind of sound from coming out of his mouth.

And perhaps he, too, was ashamed for letting a woman much younger than him do this to him, knowing that he could not be satisfied with any woman his age. Not even his ex-wife made him feel this way, so he could spread his legs all day long while you kept your mouth busy making him feel the way he deserved after a long day at work.

Your tongue worked wonders on his dickhead. You knew that he wanted you to go deeper, you could tell by how he looked at you and how he refrained from straining with his hand, he only held your hair to avoid making a curl.

You were going to do whatever you wanted with him, after all, his body language is not an order.

Jake felt his tip throbbing, causing him to growl and close his eyes very tightly and tremble in your presence. "You're doing amazing." He didn't know how to support himself. His head was asking him to stretch back and his pleasure was asking him to keep watching your tongue intertwine in his length. It was even better than watch porn.

Every thought that was going through his head vanished when you finally decided to put a small part of his cock in your mouth. "Even smaller than your tiny dripping pussy, huh?" he said with little force, as he was using it to hold himself in the armrest of his seat.

It didn't even take much effort to get it all the way into your mouth, apparently for Jake it was enough, as his trembling was the warning you had ignored, causing threads of cum to be deposited in your mouth out of nowhere.

Finally, when his charge finished releasing his insides, his hand gently held your chin to force you to look at him. "Swallow it." It took you a while due to your throat still hurting, but you made it, making Jake give you a smile for pleasing him. "You look beautiful with your teary eyes, my sunshine"

At the end of the session, you got up and after this you played a little with Jake, giving him kisses, talking about other subjects.

You missed Professor Park's class, but it was worth it. When the hour passed, you tried to leave but Jake stopped you before you tried to do anything. "Y/N."

"Tell me." You turned your gaze to him. "Do you think you could wait for me in the parking lot?" you saw him curious, waiting for him to keep talking. "Would you come to my house again? Please."

You didn't think twice before speaking again. "Okay, I'll wait for you there, Jae." Jake waited for you to walk out the door so he could weaken himself by the nickname you had given him.

Now your best friend was throwing a tantrum. "Who are you going to go with if not with me?" you felt her jealousy, but you also left laughing at how angry she looked. "Someone's waiting for me."

"Who?" she said, almost shouting, surprised by your confession. "Don't tell me it's..." With what you had told her the other day, it was noticeable that she had already realized who the person you were referring to was. You smiled shyly. "Well, actually I have something to tell you too."

Both made it all the way out of college. You were going back inside to wait for Jake, but you were willing to accompany your friend so she wouldn't be alone. "What happened?" Your friend gave you a big hug, what she usually does before saying goodbye to you, and she didn't say anything, until long seconds later when you saw her walking away to get to the bus stop. "Mr. Park. Check your messages later." You opened your mouth in surprise. From how stunned you were, you could only watch your friend laugh and pick up her pace, doing nothing else. You clearly understood her comment.

Sometimes the best friends’ connection can lead them to have the same anecdote without the other knowing about it.

As surprised as you are, you had something pending. You walked back into the university, specifically in the parking lot. The truth is that you expected Jake to be out of his car waiting for you, but you realized that he wasn't when the luxury car in front of you honked at you, startling you. Even though the windows were tinted you could see a handsome man through them, which made you approach the car and open the door to get in.

"Look at the back seat." Not a 'hello', not a 'how are you?', just orders like the ones he used to give. "They're for you." Seeing the back, you saw a piece of silky but rough, shapeless paper. You grabbed it and turned it over and realized it was a bouquet of flowers. A set of daisies, tulips and lilies, with a letter inside. It gave off a very intense smell, which you liked, you couldn't help but bury your nose in it. "Thank you so much." Jake didn't see you, but you could see him, being privileged to visualize his beautiful smile. "I chose them thinking of you. I'm glad you like them."

My lord, it was impossible for this man to let your breath rest for at least a second.

Before you knew it, they were already down the middle of the street on their way to Jake's house. "Did something happen to your friend? I saw that she was grumbling when you walked with her," he asked. "It's just that we always wait for the bus at the bus stop together," he chuckled. You looked out the window as you continued to smell the scent of flowers brushing against your nose. "This time you also told her that you went with me?"

You raised an eyebrow. "What?" "You two are very loud in class, I think you should speak more quietly." Jake wasn't looking at you, but he could feel the heat you radiated from embarrassment. "Jake, what the fuck did you hear?"

He cleared his throat, "I did something wrong yesterday... But I don't regret abo-" Jake couldn't hold back his laughter as he did his impression, and you didn't let him finish, as you punched him to shut him up. You left the flowers in your lap and looked out the window to avoid making eye contact, even though you were still a little tempted by how Jake had spoken.

"Girl, don't get mad." His voice was distorted because his laughter was still intact. When he finally calmed down he saw that you were still looking out the window, he ran his eyes back to the road and placed his hand on your thigh, which gave you goosebumps. "How about we go out to dinner tonight?" You felt his thumb move back and forth, finally getting you to look at him.

"Together?" Jake nodded. "You don't have to do this just to fuck me properly." You felt like he was joking. "I don't need a luxury dinner to fuck you properly. Besides, that wasn't in my plans, I just wanted to hug you and fall asleep next to you."

You smiled at the calm tone I use to tell you. "Are you serious?" Jake, again, nodded. "Well, you could suck me off..."

He kept one hand on the steering wheel, and hearing those words come out of your mouth, he lightly squeezed the thigh he was holding. "Okay, but only tonight."

– taglist ₊ ˖ ་. @hollyoongs @sunoozznn @sansluvr @simhinata @addictedtohobi @isylvr @gimmeurtummy @japieeey @tasnim10 @rikiwaify-blog @yohanabanana @kenzory @lilyuwon @xiaoderrrr @seochannnn @sumzysworld @enhalover12 @loljaeyunz @belowbun @hearts4itoshi @literallyags @antivenus @linfluenza @wonlvkay @skylaly @whatchulookin2 @river-demon-slayer

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transbookoftheday · 3 months

Text

Trans Horror Podcasts

My post about trans horror books last year was much more popular than I expected, and since I've recently fallen in love with fiction podcasts and audio dramas, I thought I'd make a post about trans horror podcasts as well.

If you like trans horror, please give these a try - especially if you enjoy listening to audiobooks!

Hello From The Hallowoods:

Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, an eldritch narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.

Hello From The Hallowoods is my absolute favorite podcast! If you only listen to one podcast from this list, please make it this one - it's so beautifully written and super queer! Also: season 4 starts today!

Trans main characters include:

our nonbinary eye-affiliated podcast host

a nonbinary "Frankenstein's creature"

a transmasc ghost

a genderfluid storm witch

a trans woman who can visit other people's dreams

multiple characters using neopronouns

Camp Here & There:

Good morning, campers! Camp Here & There is a weekly horror comedy podcast tuned in to the loudspeakers of a small midwestern sleepaway camp plagued by supernatural terrors and natural disasters. Sydney Sargent, resident camp nurse, cheerfully reports on all the terror we must face with a big smile. Let’s hope there’s nothing weird about that!

Sydney is a trans man.

Dos: After You:

Things have changed. Deck has fallen in love with someone who isn't human, and leaves a hungry house behind to see him again. Will he be waiting for you? The world has changed… but what about him? Dos: After You is a queer urban fantasy/horror audiodrama available in both English & Spanish

Deck is a trans man.

Jar of Rebuke:

Follow Dr. Jared Hel's journey as he works to re-discover his forgotten past and finds his place within the small Indiana farm town of Wichton and the cryptozoological organization he works for called 'The Enclosure'. These audio journals, and other recordings, dive deep into Midwestern US cryptids and folklore while also telling a mystery about identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.

Jared is nonbinary.

Spirit Box Radio:

Spirit Box Radio is an award winning, horror audio drama podcast about a radio show for enthusiasts of all things arcane. Follow Sam Enfield a former postboy with no experience in the arcane arts, who finds themselves forced to take over running the show, following the disappearance of the previous host. Sam soon discovers there are more than ghosts haunting the show, and finds himself amidst a mystery which threatens everything he knows about the world beyond his tiny basement broadcast studio, and maybe even himself.

Sam is a trans man.

The Silt Verses:

Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations amongst the reeds and the wetlands. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories. This is a world where divine intervention takes place through prayer-markings scratched into stumping-posts, and offerings are left squirming to die in the flats of the delta. This is a world of ritual, and hidden language, and sacrifice. This is folk horror, and fantasy, and a dark road trip into the depths of unusual faith.

Faulkner is a trans man.

The Magnus Protocol:

The Magnus Archives 2: The Magnus Protocol is the prequel/sequel/”sidequel” to the internationally renowned Magnus Archives podcast. The Magnus Institute was an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal, based out of Manchester, England. It burned to the ground in 1999. There were no survivors. Now, almost 25 years later, Alice and Sam, a pair of low-level civil service workers at the underfunded Office of Incident Assessment and Response, have stumbled across its legacy. A legacy that will put them in grave danger. If this intrigues you then it is our pleasure to welcome you to the Office of Incident, Assessment and Response. Make sure you pick up your badge at desk and report to your line manager before sitting down. Oh and stay away from I.T., seriously.

I'm not sure if Alice is canonically trans, but her voice actress is a trans woman.

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ferrstappen · 10 months

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Dad Lando has my whole heart 😭😭😭 could you write something of the drivers first time meeting Amelia? Or her fist time in the paddock?.. anything I just love dad Lando and your writing style 🧡

meet & greet l dad!Lando Norris x reader

The existence of baby Amalia Norris, no middle name just like her dad, was a well known secret, but a secret nonetheless.

There were never rumors about you being pregnant, but when the season started, mechanics and staff of every team, tv channel, you name it, started talking about Lando Norris and how he supposedly had a baby with his girlfriend.

Norris? No way, he's still a child himself

There's no way, the girlfriend would have to raise two babies and she looks smarter than that.

McLaren team members, especially those closer to Lando, were often asked about it by other people, but they were warned by the high commands to keep it private until Lando and you wanted to confirm it. Even if Adam Norris was often gushing about his youngest granddaughter and how she smiled just for him.

Max Verstappen once unwired himself after a reporter asked him about it. Carlos once pretended he didn't hear and the next time he just asked for another question.

The closest people on the grid already met her, she was six months old already and was completely used to the presence of uncle Max, uncle Carlos, uncle Oscar and uncle Danny, others had seen Amalia once or twice, but didn't really have the honorary uncle title.

There were so many talks between you and Lando, him being the most reticent to bringing your daughter to the paddock, not only because of the noises and movements, but someone was going to get a picture eventually, her face being everywhere, on stranger’s camera rolls and Instagram accounts.

"Why don't we make an announcement on our terms, then?"

Lando understood your idea, he really did, but he didn't owe anything to anyone. Yes, in the early months of your relationship he'd be posting stories and pictures to his .jpg account, but he never openly talked about you, your name and relationship was one of the few prohibited subjects for reporters and his PR team made sure everyone knew it.

But, this time was different because this was his daughter, and she was too precious, too beautiful for people to just look at her perfectly shaped face, beautifully colored eyes, adorably cute pout, even when she was drooling from giggling too much or sleeping to deeply.

But it was Silverstone, this wasn’t an ordinary occasion or an ordinary race, it was his home race and this time both you and him knew it was the right time to bring her to the paddock, just for the race day and trying to keep her out of the public’s eyes and constant cameras following his every step.

The night before you were searching her closet to find the perfect outfit for the ever changing English weather. Lando was holding Amalia on his arms, giggling along her as she played with the messy curls on top of his head.

“What do you want to wear for your first race, pretty girl?” Lando asked his daughter who just stared at him and enjoyed the rocking motion of his arms.

A white dress with orange daisies seemed like the perfect option, with one of her daddy’s papaya bucket hats made just for her. It was the perfect outfit for what was going to be a very memorable day.

And of course it was.

At first, fans and press were surprised Lando didn’t arrive on the track with his McLaren, instead his dad was driving a black Mercedes, polarized windows that only caught a glimpse of you through the front glass. Lando made sure everything was fine with the credentials before exiting the car, drawing the attention to himself at the same time Adam prepared the baby stroller and you placed Amalia, laughing at Lando’s dad who refused to give you the stroller.

You shyly waved your hand to the people saying your name, greeting some known faces before finally reaching the McLaren garage, where Zak was the first one to reach Adam and carefully lifting the visor and greeting Amalia who instantly recognized him.

She soon started crying, demanding to be picked up and instantly stopping when she noticed people were staring at her in awe, new faces smiling at her and waving, but the biggest smiled appeared when she noticed her papa, wearing a matching hat and taking her from your arms.

That’s how people got to meet baby Amalia Norris, who sported the same mischievous glint on her eyes, and loudly giggled when uncle Carlos arrived to the papaya garage. He was too patient with her, letting the baby play with his fingers, grab his Ferrari hat, wrap her fists on his hair and Carlos just kept talking as if his niece wasn’t tugging on his hair.

It was all a blur when Lando got to the parc fermé, parking on the big number one place, almost falling from the car before jumping into the crowd of papaya mechanics and staff waiting for him, and everyone noticed how his eyes lit up when he saw his dad and you away from the crowd, with his baby girl clapping her hands and letting out the loudest and happiest giggles, especially when Lando took her from your arms and leaving a loud kiss on her cheek before trying to hide her face on his neck and reaching to you, kissing your lips.

He received his trophy, sang his national anthem and ended the day handing his precious camera to Daniel.

It was already dark, most people were leaving as Lando grabbed your waist with one arm, the trophy with another as you held Amalia in your hip, in front of Lando’s winner car.

lando.jpg: silverstone 2024. do I need to say more?

ps: please do not repost pictures of our daughter online, I’m sharing this because it’s one of the best days of my life and wanted to celebrate with my favorite girls (and my car).

#f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris au #lando norris one shot #dad!lando norris

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adascore · 5 months

Text

The Missed Swap

pairing: alexia putellas x england!reader

warnings: swearing. reader receives a push. jealous alexia. mentions of alexia doing her acl.

author's note: finally finished this!! love writing about the complexity of their rivalry!

part 1 | masterlist

•••••••

The press conference room was filled with all sorts of journalists; Spaniards, Brits or just avid women's football researchers who were hyped about the upcoming friendly between Spain and England.

Between Y/N and Alexia rested only a few metres, their respective coaches accompanying them. Sarina and her captain sat composed waiting on the start of the conference, while their opposition exuded a calm confidence that would have intimidated any other pair.

Despite the heartwarming interaction at the Champions League final a month prior, there was no evidence of any kind of friendship as the two star players avoided each other's eyes, and any traces of the camaraderie from Turin seemed distant.

In an attempt to break the ice, Alexia discreetly sought a glance from the striker, hoping for a sign of recognition or acknowledgment, but the Spaniard was only met with a polite smile from Sarina.

The midfielder felt almost stupid for having looked forward to this, seeing her again after Turin. She'd hoped it was the start of a change, one where they could talk to one another without the forced formalities and could even become friends.

Yeah, she felt incredibly stupid.

The moderator signaled the start of the pre-match press conference. ''Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the press conference with Spain coach and captain Jorge Vilda and Alexia Putellas, as well as England coach and captain Sarina Wiegman and Y/N Y/L. We are going to start with the questions.''

The first few minutes were standard; asking about the expectations, main thoughts about the opposition, how they were all feeling about the upcoming European Championships, etc. The four of them answered all the questions directly and in a diplomatic manner.

However, it was a certain Spanish journalist that decided to shake things up. ''Hello, everyone. This question is for Alexia,'' the man spoke up in his native language, ''after the Champions League final, we witnessed, what seemed, an emotional interaction between you and Y/N. Would you say your relationship has changed since then? Or was it just a moment for the camera's? Will it have any impact on the game tomorrow?''

Alexia maintained her diplomatic tone, carefully choosing her words. ''Good morning. The final in Turin was an intense and emotional moment for both of our teams. With Y/N, we share respect for football, the game. Now, we are here to represent our countries in preparation for the Euro's.''

The reporter, undeterred by the captain's media-trained answer, pressed with a sly smile. ''But is there a good relationship between you two? There seemed to have been a connection of some sorts.''

''I understand there might be interest in our personal relationship, but I want to focus on our match tomorrow.'' She answered with poise, not entertaining the controversy he was trying to stir.

Y/N couldn't help but smirk at the journalist's persistence. Despite not understand their language, it was clear Alexia hadn't given him the satisfaction of actually answering his question.

The moderator urged for someone else to take the microphone, quickly wanting to move on before it became more of an issue. The word was then given to an English journalist.

''Hi, for the Daily Mail,'' he greeted them, Y/N having to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the mention of for which news outlet he worked for, ''for Y/N, uh, many of the players of the Spanish team play for Barcelona, and we all saw what happened last month. Do you think their defeat had something to do with your presence or maybe that the rivalry between you and Alexia Putellas was a factor in that?''

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the loaded question, but remained composed. ''Every match is different, and Spain is also different from Barcelona. Football is a team sport, and the outcome of a match depends on a lot of different factors. I don't think it is fair to attribute the result of a match to the presence or absence of a single player. I mean- I'm a footballer, not a witch.'' She concluded her answer with a lighthearted joke, relieved it caused some of the tension in the room to disappear.

''A question for both the coaches,'' the conference moved on again, ''how do each of you feel about another meeting between Alexia and Y/N? They're not just the star players of your teams, but also of women's football. Does it add any excitement or pressure to the match?''

Sarina responded first. ''Well, every match is a great opportunity to have good battles, as a group or as individuals. They're both exceptional talents so it will be a treat to watch for all of us, but the main focus is on the team performance and preparing for the European Championship next month.''

Jorge nodded, seemingly agreeing. ''Individual matchups add excitement, but the success of the team remains a priority.''

The press conference concluded not much later, the four of them alleviated they could get up and leave.

As they exited, Y/N and Alexia found themselves walking side by side, albeit a bit awkwardly. The corridor felt like a neutral ground, free from the scrutiny of the media.

“They're always searching for stuff…” Y/N broke the silence, still somewhat frustrated over the questions about their personal relationship.

Alexia nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting a similar feeling. “Yeah, so stupid.”

The quietness returned, both women unsure of what to say.

“Congrats on winning the league again, by the way.” Alexia rambled, the words leaving her mouth like a speed train.

Y/N smiled, appreciating the attempt to continue the conversation. “Thanks, you too.”

“Thank you.” The midfielder hesitated, a subtle struggle visible on her face.

Alexia sighed, searching for the right words. “Look, about Turin…”

Y/N raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “What about it?”

There was a pause as they walked, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I wanted to talk more, you know, after the match.” She admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

The England captain slowly nodded. “Ah, yeah, it looked like that, but then your coach whisked you away.” She awkwardly laughed.

“I don't know why he did that, it probably felt as weird to me as it did to you,” Alexia responded, “but I just wanted to thank you for your words, cause… you didn't have to come up to me, but you did.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “You really don't have to thank me. I know what it's like as captain, it's tough. It just felt like the right thing to do.”

“What you said about our growth and stuff, it means more than you think, you know, to the team.” The Spaniard quickly added the last bit, not wanting to get too sentimental.

“I'm glad if it brought a bit of comfort to your team. I meant it, you guys have really made a great transition.” Y/N wasn't by any means a great loser, but she would always give a team credit when it's due.

Alexia nodded appreciatively. “Thanks. I'm, uh, excited about tomorrow.”

The England captain grinned, feeling a subtle shift in their dynamic. "Yeah, it should be a good game.''

“Yes, it should. Hopefully it goes my way this time.''

Y/N loudly laughed at Alexia's words, taking the Barcelona midfielder by surprise. ''I didn't know you were this funny, Putellas.''

Alexia chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through.

“Y/N…”

The striker turned back to where the call of her name came from, and she was met with the hesitant face of Sarina.

She gave her coach a hand motion that said ‘I'm right there, let me wrap this up'. The Dutchwoman seemed to understand as she gave both players a nod.

“Uh, I gotta go- team stuff, but I'll see you tomorrow then.” Y/N bid goodbye.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Alexia watched her rival leave, eyes roaming over her athletic figure that was adorned in an England training kit that seemed to highlight every curve of her body.

The Spaniard had to shake herself out of her daze, not knowing what came over her.

As she turned to head in the opposite direction, she refocused herself on the game ahead and realized she had to put aside the emotions and complexities that seemed to find her every time she encountered the England captain.

It had already cost her one match, she wouldn't dare let it happen again.

The score wasn't reflective of how exciting and high-pressing the match actually was. Neither side had scored, but there had been plenty of great chances.

It also included a lot of fouls, specifically on the English captain by the Spanish players.

Y/N found herself on the receiving end of another rough challenge, this time from Carmona.

As the referee's whistle pierced through the stadium, signaling the foul, Y/N couldn't contain her frustration. “Fucking cunt.” She muttered under her breath.

The Real Madrid defender, catching wind of the insult, didn't take it lightly. “What did you say?” She exclaimed, responding with a push.

The striker didn't budge, simply giving her an unimpressed look. “I said you're a fucking cunt.” She repeated her words, not one bit intimidated.

The tension escalated, and the players from both teams rushed to get involved.

More of the Spanish players stepped in to defend the young player, throwing insults at Y/N. While the England players tried to form a protective barrier around their captain, not shy of vulgar words themselves.

Amidst the chaos, Alexia took a step forward, signaling to her Spanish teammates to calm down. “That's enough.” She told Olga, placing herself in-between the Brit and the defender.

“Let it go, it's just a friendly. No need for this.” Her authoritative tone resonated, and she managed to diffuse the situation.

Olga, still visibly upset, reluctantly stepped back, but mumbled some more Spanish swear words that had Patri giving her a light push.

Alexia, with an apologetic look, turned around to address Y/N, but Rachel intervened, pulling her captain away from the aftermath of the chaos.

“We need to take more advantage of the counterattacks, we're just giving everything away.” Rachel immediately focused back on the game, whispering her thoughts.

Y/N caught Alexia's intention, but let it go, redirecting her attention to the unfolding match.

In a retaliatory turn of events, Georgia committed a foul against Alexia.

The England captain didn't want it to escalate the way it had only a few minutes before, so she quickly addressed her teammate.

“G, tone it down!”

The midfielder gave a thumbs up and an apology to Alexia, which the Spaniard accepted.

The final whistle blew, ending the intense encounter with a draw. Both sides were disappointed not to walk away with the win, but the result felt right to the match.

As the players exchanged handshakes and words of sportsmanship, Y/N and Alexia found themselves facing each other once more.

“Good match.” They chorused, shaking hands with a content smile.

“I guess it didn't really go your way this time.” Y/N chuckled, recalling Alexia's words from the day before.

The midfielder laughed, relieved there was no tension between them anymore. “It was tough today. Great defense from your team.”

“Thanks, your attacks warranted it.” The Brit playfully rolled her eyes.

They walked together towards the officials to shake their hands, making small talk about the match.

“Hey… your shirt…” Y/N switched topics, pointing at the red Spain jersey.

“Yeah?” Alexia's eyes widened slightly, almost beaming at the fact that the striker would want to swap shirts.

“My teammate, Katie, she's quite the fan and would you do me a favor and like, ask her to exchange kits? She didn't get to play today and it would really cheer her up.”

A tinge of red colored Alexia's cheeks as she realized her misinterpretation. “Oh, uh, yeah, no problem.”

“You don't have to, if you want to keep the shirt.” Y/N noticed the slight expression change in the opposition's face.

“No, I really want to. I'll ask her, no big deal.” Alexia quickly brushed it off, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

“Thank you so much, it will mean a lot to her. Usually she's a chatterbox, but…” The striker trailed off.

Alexia nodded, finding it a sweet gesture of the rivaling captain.

“Uh, actually, could you do the same? One of the younger girls, Claudia, really looks up to you and would appreciate the shirt.”

The midfielder saw her younger teammate lingering not too far from where they were standing, not subtle in observing the captains' interaction.

“She's the small girl that's standing behind you.” Alexia smiled, laughing as Pina pretended to look at the crowd once she caught her Barcelona teammate watching her.

Y/N followed her eyes and gave Claudia a wave, which the girl shyly returned.

“I‘ll ask as well,” she softly responded, “uh, so I'll see you in the Euro's final then?” Y/N grinned, teasingly.

“Yeah, I'll see you there.”

As they parted ways, each player headed toward the teammate they had promised to exchange shirts with.

“ALEXIA PUTELLAS TEARS ACL BEFORE WOMEN's EUROS”

Y/N read the headline in utter shock, in disbelief that the Spain captain had tore her ACL in training, the day before the start of the tournament.

“You heard about Putellas?” Jill interrupted her thoughts, joining her in the lounge that had been set up for the team.

“Yeah.” She nodded, closing her phone.

“I feel for her.” The Manchester City player sympathized.

Y/N remained quiet, wondering how Alexia was doing- mentally then.

“Are you two friends?” Jill inquired, confused by the captain's silence.

She looked at her older friend, lifting her shoulders. “I don't know. We're not enemies.”

Intrigued by the cryptic response, Jill couldn't resist probing further. “You guys were laughing with each other after the Spain match.”

“Yeah, and?” Y/N chuckled, uncomfortable by her teammate's stare.

The midfielder raised an eyebrow. “What's the story?”

“There is no story, we just had a laugh.” The captain retorted.

“You used to shut down like a toddler whenever someone mentioned her, and now you're acting like buddies together. What happened, Cap?” Jill was properly confused on what the status was with the two football stars.

“I won, that's what happened.” Y/N opened her phone again, hoping her response was enough to satisfy Jill's curiosity.

The older one frowned. “Won what?”

“I won the final. Champions League. She lost.” It was a vague clarification, they both knew that.

“And that makes you friends?”

Y/N sighed, sensing the skepticism in Jill's tone. “You don't get it, Scott- be glad that you don't.”

“So what if you hadn't won?” Jill asked, a subtle gravity behind her question.

Y/N took a moment before responding, contemplating the hypothetical scenario. “There was no way I would have lost that final. Not in a hundred years.”

“So humble you are.” Her teammate sarcastically commented.

The captain dramatically winked at the older woman.

“But seriously… what is that?” Jill made a gesture with her hand, as if she was physically pointing between her and Alexia.

“Don't know, I guess she isn't as pretentious as I thought she was.” Y/N answered, recognizing the wrong perspective she had of the Spaniard.

Jill raised an eyebrow. “She probably thought the same of you.” She laughed.

“I guess so.” The younger player admitted. “Should I send her a message? Like wishing her well or something?” Y/N asked Jill, holding up her phone.

She looked at the striker's phone, considering the suggestion. “Why not? I can't think of one player who wouldn't be happy to get a message from you.”

“Alright…” Y/N mumbled, opening Instagram and pulling up Alexia's account.

Jill glanced at her screen. “You don't even follow her!” She scoffed.

The captain looked from her screen to Jill, and back to her screen. “Yeah, and?”

“Follow her, and send the message.” The midfielder instructed.

“Are you my boss?” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, but followed up on Jill's instruction.

| Y/N.Y/L: hey, heard about the injury. hope you're doing alright, and know that a lot of people are behind you. take care ❤️

“Good enough for Miss Scott?” Y/N asked her teammate.

Jill nodded, approvingly. “Look at you, extending an olive branch.'' She teased.

''An olive branch? We never had any problems.'' The younger one frowned, as an olive branch usually meant for there to have been a conflict.

The Manchester City player chuckled at her confusion. ''Well, it's a nice gesture. I'm sure she'll appreciate it.''

Y/N shrugged. ''It's a serious injury, she's at least out for like 8-9 months. I can't imagine her not playing with Spain and Barca.''

Jill nodded, a similar sympathetic look on her face. ''Yeah, I just hope she comes out better of it.''

''She will.'' Y/N said, voice full of confidence.

It was still Alexia. La Reina. She would not be taken down easily.

Meanwhile, freshly arrived in her home country, Alexia finally unlocked her phone after a long and hectic day. A certain notification stood out, it couldn't be could it?

She could feel her heartbeat as she saw the message from Y/N. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to open it immediately or not. Alexia edged herself, answering everyone else's messages before getting to the Brit's.

After an eternity, she decided to open and read it as her curiosity got the better of her.

Alexia's eyes softened as she read over the words. Y/N's DM was not something that anyone hadn't told her before, but her rivaling captain had taken the time to wish her well and that meant more than Alexia was ready to admit yet.

| alexiaputellas: hey, I am back home now so doing better! thank you for your words and good luck at the tournament! ❤️

The captain stared at her phone, pondering on how their relationship had changed so much- at least to the point where they were sending messages to one another. Yet, here they were, exchanging words beyond the constraints of the game.

She couldn't deny the intrigue she had towards the striker. The phenomenon that was the England captain was unexplored territory for the Spaniard. Everything she had though before about Y/N all seemed to fade as she got more and more glimpses of who her rival actually was.

As Alexia wondered about the new dynamics, her train of thought was interrupted by a new notification.

| Y/N.Y/L: that's great to her! too bad we can't meet in the final now

The Catalan smiled, her fingers swiftly moving over the screen to compose a reply.

| alexiaputellas: yeah, maybe another time!

| alexiaputellas: if you do play against Spain, I don't want you to win, though 😉

| Y/N.Y/L: ooooohhhh, im gonna play extra harder against them now :)

| Y/N.Y/L: are you coming back to England to watch them?

| alexiaputellas: yes, after I've had my surgery!

| Y/N.Y/L: good luck with that, btw

| alexiaputellas: thank you ☺

The messages continued on for a while, mostly staying on the joking side. Alexia appreciated the unexpected distraction Y/N provided for her, her torn knee having become forgotten for just a few moments.

Their next meeting came 2 weeks later as England took on Spain in the quarterfinals. Y/N was wary about meeting their team still quite early on in the tournament, but it would be a great test for them, and not having Alexia on the pitch could only be a benefit to the English- even if it happened due to unfortunate circumstances.

The match was intense, reminiscent of their friendly match the month before. In the 54th minute, England fell behind, conceding a goal. The pressure only intensified as the entire team and stadium looked at their captain, in serious need of a solution.

Y/N screamed more motivation at her teammates, applauding and praising every pass and chance they made. Fortunately, Ella managed to equalize, and Georgia had everyone going crazy as she put one extra in the net during extra time.

The striker jumped into the young midfielder's arms, yelling inaudible things as they celebrated her world of a goal. ''You're a legend, G!''

''Come on, girls! We can do this!'' Millie exclaimed, clapping her hands to hype everyone up to keep their lead.

''Keep pressuring them! It's in our hands now! You're doing amazing!'' Y/N joined in, her infectious energy working on the team as they all nodded and got back to their spots on the pitch.

The whistle blew and the entire squad could feel a huge weight leaving their shoulders, relieved this tribulation was over and they could focus on the semifinals.

In the post-match rituals, Y/N glanced towards the Spanish team. A bittersweet realization struck her- the victory was nice, but a part of the competition was missing without the direct face-off with the Spanish captain. She almost forgot her colleague would not be on the pitch to shake hands with, or to analyze the match with.

She tried finding her in the crowd, but Alexia must have already made an escape to the locker rooms. The Brit didn't blame her, she probably didn't want to stick around to see a rival team celebrating knocking their team out.

Half an hour later, Alexia watched Irene stroll into their changing rooms- one of the last players to arrive, holding a white England shirt in her hand.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she approached her fellow captain on the other side of the room. ''Irene, who did you swap with?'' She asked.

Irene grinned, unfolding the jersey as Y/N's name and number was displayed in front of Alexia's eyes. ''Our favorite girl,'' Irene sarcastically said, the England player had caused a lot of damage to both of the women, on club and international level, ''she asked me. You just can't say no to that face, can you?'' The defender chuckled.

A subtle flicker of disbelief crossed Alexia's features as Irene continued chatting about the exchange. The realization that Y/N had chosen to swap shirts with the older woman stung a bit, sparking an unfamiliar emotion in her. Perhaps, it was a fleeting sense of envy for the seeming connection that her and Irene had. The Spaniard had played against the Lyon striker numerous times during her stint at PSG.

Despite her attempt to keep a neutral expression, Alexia's reaction was far from enthusiastic. ''Oh, that's great.'' She replied, her tone a bit more dejected than she had wanted.

Irene noticed the shift in her teammate's demeanor. She raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Alexia. ''Something on your mind?'' She questioned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she sensed there might be more to the midfielder's reaction.

''No, nothing at all. Just… surprised.'' Alexia forced a smile, attempting to downplay the jealousy. However, her eyes betrayed her.

The defender raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening. ''Surprised? Why? We've known each other for a long time, played against her a bunch of times.'' She responded casually, enjoying whatever was happening at the moment.

''Yeah, true. Well, good for you.'' Alexia nodded, trying to mask her unease with a nonchalant tone.

The Barcelona player chuckled, starting to recognize what this might be about. She held up the England shirt, a teasing glint in her own eyes. ''You want it? I still have a Lyon one from a few years ago.'' She playfully extended the jersey towards Alexia.

The midfielder shook her head, again forcing herself to laugh. ''No, no. It's all yours, don't even want it, anyway.'' Alexia waved off the offered shirt with a dismissive gesture.

''Alright, whatever suits you.'' Irene smiled, placing the shirt in her own bag.

She left the blonde alone, walking back to where she had settled before the defender had waltzed into the room.

Alone with her thoughts, Alexia couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling. Watching Irene prance around with Y/N’s shirt left her with a strange mix of emotions that she hadn’t dealt with before, or at least not when it pertained to her teammate and rival.

What puzzled her even more was why Y/N had never asked her for a shirt swap. She wondered if their rivalry and everyone’s comparisons of the two, overshadowed the possibility of something more- whatever that something more was. Did the England captain only see their interactions through the lens of competition?

Alexia grappled with a simple yet difficult question: did she want Y/N to ask for a shirt swap or did it bother her more that she didn’t seem to be considered for one?

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fic

816 notes · View notes

l13 · 11 months

Text

bitter

dunno what brought this on but reader has good taste;P also let's pretend that lyla is team reader x miguel for plot reasons

word count: 2.3k

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, ex!miguel, aged up bf!hobie<3, miguel has some v descriptive sexual thoughts about you (p in v sex, f!receiving oral), swearing, jealousy, ANGSTTT

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

Miguel often thinks about how he ended up giving in to his desires and starting a situationship with you, how he regrets it when he can tell how you've fallen for him. How your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, looking at him like he hung the moon. He regrets it because that's how he looks at you as well.

Why’d you have to ask him on that stupid date?

“That’d be unprofessional.” is what Miguel had said in reply. Because it was the truth. You were only fucking, nothing more.

You’d scoffed, “Oh come on, Miguel, we’re not office workers. Surely we can go out together?”

“What, fucking me ain’t enough for you?”

You'd huffed, your expression dull, shaking your head in disbelief, “No, actually, it isn’t. I genuinely like you, is that so bad?”

Miguel had ignored the flip his stomach did at your confession “You know why we can’t, now drop it.”

“No, I want you to tell me why.”

“It’s not in the canon” He cringes every time he remembers what he’d said, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was right. He was, but fuck, how he wanted to be wrong. He so desperately wanted it to be him that you were meant to fall in love with, him you were meant to build a life together.

“Fuck the canon.” had been your reply, before you turned to walk away and he'd made no move to follow you.

He'd failed to ignore Lyla when she'd whistled, “That was painful even for me,”

“Jesus- can you not?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, can't interrupt your brooding time. I'm just saying. You prevented the woman of your dreams from falling in love with you, because she's meant to fall for someone else? But that's stupid- Your heart literally jumps when you see her-”

“Lyla I swear to God, if you don't stop talking-”

And now, as he stands in front of your house months later, waiting for you to answer the door, Miguel found himself to be annoyed. Annoyed that he hadn't gotten your mission report on time, and had to come and fetch it for himself.

Some sick, twisted part of his brain wanted you to have forgotten it on purpose, and ignored his calls in order for him to come over, maybe reconcile- fuck your brains out till you're begging him to take you back, even if it meant putting your feelings aside.

“She better be home,” Miguel hisses to himself, his hand massaging his temples, and he doesn't even flinch when Lyla shows up out of nowhere “Oh, she is. The thermal scan picks her up, see? Wait who’s-”

Miguel was thankful for the interruption, but what he saw when you opened the door was not at all what he expected, or was even prepared for.

You were practically naked, an oversized t-shirt covering your body, stopping just under your ass and- Jesus Christ were those thigh highs? Yes they were, pretty ones, too. They were sheer white tights, that ended just in the middle of your plush thighs, the material hugging your legs beautifully, the very top of them decorated with a lace material, giving them a sexy twist.

God, he'd get on his knees right here and now if you just asked-Miguel licked his lips and cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze, praying that he doesn't appear flustered.

“Miguel! Are you okay? Is something wrong? Hey Lyla-” you seem out of breath as you talk, clearly not bothered by your lack of clothing in front of him. Lyla offers you a bright hello and wave, one you softly smile at.

No, he's not fucking okay.

“I'm great.” he hisses, but really he was trying to convince himself of it. You study him for a bit longer before humming, not believing him for a moment.

“I need the report from the mission that you were sent to do yesterday. The one you forgot to send me.” Miguel inhales sharply and stands taller, trying to hide the fact that your presence damages his brain functionality severely, by trying to look more intimidating.

Memories of last night flash in your mind suddenly, being pressed against your bookshelf, the furniture rattling loudly, books almost toppling to the floor, but you didn’t have the heart in you to care. Not when he was grinding up at you, hand under your thigh to keep you upright as you moaned against his mouth crossing your legs around his waist and bringing him closer, the sound of your watch beeping pulling you out of your trance, “Fuck, wait. T-the reports-”

He undid your watch expertly with one hand, and you gasped trying to snatch it from his grasp, but he held it up above your head, placing it on top of your bookshelf carelessly, before grabbing the top shelf to brace himself and grind himself harder against you, moaning under his breath, “Fuck ‘em.”

Your eyes widen comically, and you sputter, “Right! Shit- fuck. I'm sorry, umm, wait here.” and you slam the door right in his face. Miguel's eyebrow twitches.

There's shuffling from inside before Miguel realizes that you're talking to someone-

“Can you go in five minutes? Please?”

“Nah, ‘m afraid I need to go right now, love. Got things to do, places to be.”

“Can't you open up a portal here?”

“When there’s a perfectly usable front door? I don’ think so,” “C’mon pretty.. what are y’so afraid of?”

“He’s our boss.”

“He’s your ex. Now, if you’re ashamed to be seen with me, I get it-”

“No! Baby, no. I just don’t want to rub it in his face, don't want him to think that I am either,”

“But that’s so boring. Let’s make ‘im suffer, you’ll thank me later-”

“Hob-”

The door opens suddenly and Miguel could act surprised, could act like he’s been waiting for quite a while not knowing what’s going on inside, but he doesn’t. Not when he’s face to face with Hobie. Not when he obviously knows how good Miguel’s hearing is, how he could definitely hear every word that was spoken, not when you’d tried to be nice- tried to whisper and be subtle, not when Hobie blatantly did the opposite out of spite.

So he just stares ahead with a blank face, as Hobie leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. There’s a hickey on his neck and Miguel feels like he might throw up.

And somehow, Miguel still thinks that this is all some sick joke, a prank, a dream. Anything to explain what he's seeing. Because there’s no way you're dating Hobie. There’s no way you fucked Hobie fucking Brown- the single most annoying person in Miguel’s life (after peter, of course). And after what, only eight months after you stopped seeing him? That's how long it took for you to get over him? He can almost hear Lyla laughing in his head, 'You're just bitter that you're not over her yet'

Hobie smirks at him “Hello mate, long time no see.” Miguel at least has the human decency to offer him a curt nod, which Hobie apparently finds hilarious as he huffs out a laugh, “'S alright if I send my report later, right? I'm kind of exhausted right now, did a lot of runnin' yesterday, y'know,”

Lyla visibly winces and disappears a second later.

Running. Miguel needed breathing exercises and he needed them now-

Miguel's eyes snapped to yours. Were you just gonna let Hobie talk all that shit, without saying anything? (Knowing Hobie's life was in imminent danger?) Apparently so, because you just scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. What a great couple you two made.

He refused to believe that this is who you chose, refused to acknowledge that his anger was pointed at himself and not you. He’d never, ever, admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Hobie was a good kid, he’d treat you right and that's what pissed him off the most.

“Fuck the canon.” Hobie would have laughed and nodded in agreement at your words, not Miguel though. Miguel had said nothing and it had cost him his future with you.

Sensing that Miguel wouldn’t reply anytime soon, Hobie just shrugged nonchalantly, “Thanks for understanding, boss.”

Miguel felt like he could hear his own veins pulsing. Boss, he'd called him boss. That little-

Turning to you, Hobie throws a hand around your waist and squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss on your cheek “I'll see you later love, don' forget to put some ice on that, yeah?” he lays a slap on your ass that makes you almost tumble forward, and Hobie's smirk widens when he sees Miguel ball his fists at his sides, nostrils flaring. Hobie throws a wink at Miguel before squeezing through him to walk out, seeing as Miguel didn't make any attempt to get out of the way.

Miguel doesn't turn to see him open up a portal to leave, he's too busy looking at the way the multi-colored lights illuminate your face, how you grin and wave shyly at your boyfriend.

“So sorry about him.. d'you wanna come in?” you ask, shifting from one leg to another once the portal disappears. Miguel just stares at you, eyes hooded, mouth pressed in a tight line.

“Ookay, I’ll just go get the- yeah” you trail off and turn to walk deeper into your apartment, and Miguel hates himself for craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your ass. And then hates himself even more when he thinks about how smug Hobie would be if he knew Miguel was checking out his girl. He'd say some dumb shit like "Wanting somethin' you can't have again, boss?"

Meanwhile, you're standing on your tippy-toes in front of your infamous bookshelf, arm outstretched, trying to grab your watch but to no use, cursing Hobie in your mind for putting it so high up. You had no idea that by trying to get your stupid watch, you were giving Miguel the perfect view of your backside, seeing as your shirt rode up each time you stretched out your arm.

No, fuck that. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Hobie was right. Let him suffer. He chose this, so now he can deal with the consequences.

Miguel wanted to give everything up right then and there. It's funny how quickly you could strip him of his morals, and he just wishes he could have done that before realizing he'd lost you forever. He could picture his future in his mind so clearly, if only he'd just said yes to your question.

“Will you go out with me?"

He’d resign, move out some place nice, next to a beach preferably. Spend his days laying on the sand and drinking piña coladas with no care in the world.

Except you’d be there. Straddling his lap to steal his drink, giggling and laughing when he tried to take it back from you. He’d grab your hips and with a swift motion you'd switch places, your back against the hot sand. The drink would spill from the movement, the liquid falling over your bikini covered tits, and you’d gasp oh-so prettily when he’d bend to lick it all up.

You’d moan even sweeter when he’d move lower, when he’d eat you out till you’re a crying, babbling mess, whining that you can’t take it anymore. Oh, but you could. You would take it, and he’d prove it when he’d later fuck you against the pool, and he’d make sure he fucked you good. Your mewls would be panted against his ear as he’d thrust into you relentlessly, your fingers digging into his wet back, and all he’d taste would be your pretty moans and the faint taste of rum against his tongue.

His cheeks would hurt from how hard he'd be grinning as he stared at you when you both would go for a walk by the beach later. He'd jog up to you, springing you in his arms, nuzzling his head against your hair- your distinctive smell fogging up his brain- your laughter mixing together, as you chased each other through the waves.

When you'd had enough, and stood panting, your -now wet- dress clinging to you like second skin, he'd drop to his knee, pulling out a ring from his pocket, one he was anxious not to drop when he was chasing you around, and you'd gape at him, tears already welling up in your eyes.

You would have said yes that night. In fact, the word would have been repeated against his shoulder as he fucked you later, rolling his hips into you slowly, kissing your pretty tears, holding you, loving you–

“Done! I just sent it–,” you could have sworn you and Miguel shivered at the same time when he blinked down at you, his mouth parted. His eyes were glistening all of a sudden, and it made your whole being fill with a sense of longing and dread.

“Lyla?” you swallowed harshly at Miguel's hoarse tone, gnawing at your lip as you avoided his gaze.

It was as if Lyla knew not to fuck with him either, because she didn't even make him beg for it, instead pulling up a hologram that showed the report, “Yup, got it!”

You cleared your throat, eager to get back into bed and forget the look on his face just now, suddenly feeling nostalgic for a memory you couldn't quite place- “I'm sorry that I forgot, it won’t happen again, promise.”

Yes it will.

“See you back at HQ?”

Miguel hums, not saying anything, not even caring to correct you, because he’d sooner see you in his dreams than at headquarters.

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — hobie #•ूᡣ𐭩 — miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader

2K notes · View notes

hobicakess · 3 months

Text

PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 5 months

Note

You know, it would be interesting for me to read the gloomy Disney characters. By the type that the Reader accidentally enters the Disney world. Or is already in this world. For example, a man! The Evil Queen× reader. Just imagine that the mirror says that the most beautiful is the reader and the man!The evil Queen was interested.. Well, or dark! A man!A Disney princess who believes in love and believes that the reader is his true love and that the reader should belong only to him.

Sorry for the bad English

Don't apologize

You're perf, babes

Yandere!Genderbent!Evil King x GN!Reader x Yandere!Genderbent!Snow White

CW: Death, obsessive behavior

"Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The vain king asked his enchanted mirror as he often did whenever his pride was wounded. King Hadewig was the envy of men and women. Cold and beautiful, his features were cut like an ethereal ice sculpture. Intelligent, talented, and ruthless, most everyone either wanted to bed him or be him. However, his power was not guaranteed for long.

Hadewig was King only by responsibility, and not by actual title. His title was, legally, Prince Consort. He married his, now deceased, wife when he was a young bachelor, and she was the only eligible bachelorette of suitable status as a widow. Being so much older than him, it was an "unfortunate", but not "unsurprising" passing of the crown when the Queen died and left her son in Hadewig's care.

The only reason the child wasn't immediately crowned king was because of Hadewig's charm and influence, convincing the court that the young Prince Snow was too irresponsible to rule the country. But it was difficult to continue that lie going, even with Hadewig purposely keeping Snow ignorant of his future kingly duties by treating him as a servant, for now the boy was twenty years of age, and truly should have not only been coronated years ago, but also wed off to the available princess of the neighboring kingdom, a woman as old as Hadewig.

But his potential loss of power wasn't the reason for his low self esteem that day.

"You are, my king. There is one who approaches, but does not yet share with you what makes you fair."

The king slumped in his seat in an uncouth like manner. "Then why does my hunter not look at me like a man?"

King Hadewig's personal hunter, an immensely talented killer that didn't just slaughter animals for the king. And the only person who simply looked at the king. Nothing Hadewig did could change the professional look on (Reader's) face during their meetings. No matter how charismatic he was with his words, how stylish his clothing was, nor the love potions he attempted to spike (Reader's) drinks with, they were seemingly immune to every one of his attempts. In their most recent meeting, the one that left Hadewig depressed, he had offered his hunter a glass of wine, which they turned down, stating that the last drink they had received from the king did not agree with them.

"I can not tell you that, my lord. I only can report what I see, so unless your hunter speaks their secrets out loud while I spy, I am blind to their feelings for you."

Hadewig groaned, upset and broken hearted.

"Show me my hunter, again."

The face in the mirror melted, dissolving into an image of (Reader) leaving the castle. Their strong frame sent shivers down the icy man's spine. His first and only marriage was one of political importance, with no love or warmth between the husband and wife. But in the presence of his Mx. Hunter, the king was set ablaze. The intense feeling of heat was dowsed when he witnessed the bastard he hated most in the world approach his hunter.

At the steps of the castle, Snow had been timidly watching the triumphant hunter from afar, gathering the courage to approach them. He had never known shame, never feeling any sort of embarrassment about the state of his dress, but in the presence of the person who always smelled faintly of iron, he was reduced to two inches tall.

Stepping lightly like a mouse, the short adult snuck up behind (Reader), still debating whether or not he was actually going to announce his presence.

His decision was made for him, however, being noticed by (Reader) almost immediately.

"Good afternoon, your highness." They said, turning sharply on their heel to face him.

The hunter was the only person to address the prince by his royal status.

"Ah- how did you know it was me?" He asked incredulously. A pink blush warmed his entire head, wrapping around the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

"Because I could hear you." (Reader) offered a kind smile to the shy, younger man. They felt sympathy towards him, with the way his cold step father treated him. With what they had done to him.

Snow was impressed by how cool (Reader) was. And a small part of him wished to impress them as well. He tried to straighten out his worn out rags. "What brings you to the castle today?"

"To gift the king a wolf pelt. And also," (Reader) reached into their pouch, pulling out a pressed flower, "to gift you this."

The prince sucked in his gasp, wide eyed and lips pressed tight.

"I apologize for not finding something better for your highness."

"No!" He panicked, grabbing the flower with both hands. "It's beautiful!"

He hadn't received a gift since the passing of his mother.

"Happy Birthday, your highness." (Reader) bowed, then turned swiftly, leaving the young man hyperventilating and sweating.

Only the king and his mirror heard Snow whisper long after (Reader) left: "I love you."

Three days later, and the king was losing his mind over the interaction. Snow was visibly taller, standing straighter as he worked, singing as he cleaned the castle grounds, and it was bothering him.

Hadewig kicked over his chair in frustration. "Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"The one you fear is getting stronger, the confidence has warmed his winter, and people shall notice his spring awakening. The prince now glows more brightly than you, whose anger has etched lines of hatred into his ice like face."

King Hadewig released a scream, losing his control before quickly sharpening back up, running his hands through his messed hair.

He left his study, storming over towards a frightened servant.

"Send for my hunter."

Before (Reader), the king was disheveled, worrying (Reader) something awful.

"I can not stand for this disrespect any longer." His gaze read cold and cruel as it pierced the hunter's. "You understand that you are mine, correct?"

(Reader) thought about the flower and felt a wave of anxiety. "Yes, your highness."

"You understand that you belong to me?"

"Yes, your highness."

He sighed ever so slightly, before retrieving a wooden box from his desk. "I have another assignment for you.

Kill my son."

Nausea threatened to erupt from the seasoned murderer. "My lord?"

"Take him deep into the woods, and bring me back his heart." He held out the box. It was a test, as though (Reader) hadn't proved their loyalty to the mad man enough.

The empty box was heavy in (Reader's) hands.

"As you wish, your highness."

Prince Snow spun in the field of flowers as he searched for the most beautiful flowers for the hunter. It was the best day of his life! His father had given him a colorful outfit that fit him and the hunter had asked him out on a date! Well, they didn't call it a date, but what else could it have been?

He wove a crown for (Reader) while imaging their wedding day, becoming King and Royal Consort and having a real crown placed on their head.

(Reader), however, was weighing their options, not truly paying attention to the prince, and trying to ignore his childlike excitement.

What would the king do, if he was made a fool?

"Oh, hunter!" Snow ran over, holding out the delicate crown. "I made this for you! May I?"

And that was all it took, for (Reader) to spare his life.

They bent down, feeling the weight of the crown on their scalp. It smelled nice. Before Snow could retreat, (Reader) wrapped their arms around his thin waist. They had killed so many people before, but this was only the second time they felt unbearable guilt.

The first was after they took the life of the Queen.

"(Reader)?" Snow stuttered out, feeling weak in their strong arms.

"You must run, your highness." (Reader) whispered into his ear.

"What?"

"The king has ordered me to kill you. So please, run. Far away, into the woods." They released the prince, and it was only then that he noticed the heavy bags under their tired eyes.

"Why? I don't understand-"

"Leave. It won't be long before that witch discovers my lie."

Snow fell to his knees, holding onto the edge of (Reader's) shirt for dear life, falling apart in front of them. "Please, no! Come with me! If he would kill me, what would he do to you for sparing me? Please, run away with me!"

(Reader) bent down to release his fingers from their hem, planting a kiss on his forehead as they did so. "I hope when I meet you again you will have found a name more worthy of such a warm and kind person. For as of this moment, Prince Snow is dead."

Excitement threatened to crack the King's cool demeanor as he observed the bloody heart in his hands. (Reader) was distant, but that didn't matter to Hadewig, for now there was no competition for his hunter's affection. They would soon be his, even if he had to use force to make it so.

"Excellent work, my faithful hunter." He offered a practiced smile, unnerving (Reader) who prayed that the pig heart made a convincing decoy. At least until they could escape and hide out in the mountains, far away from the King's eyes.

(Reader) gave a deep bow. Then they left, calmly getting on their horse, and leaving, not taking a single glance behind them as they sped off, emergency bag already packed on their steed.

Back in Hadewig's room, he caressed the box affectionately, thinking about his lovely hunter. The stress had certainly caused a frown line, just as the mirror said, but he was working at reversing the damage.

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" He dreamily asked, slightly nervous that the rage had permanently ruined his perfect face.

"Hiding deep within the woods, tending a wounded heart, the fairest in the land hides. Prince Snow still lives."

The king scoffed. "I have his heart right here, mirror."

"No, within that box lies the heart of a pig."

The box fell from Hadewig's hands. "A pig..?" His face scrunched up painfully. "(Reader) would never betray- they belong to me! ME! Guards! Where is my hunter?!"

"The hunter is flying towards the mountains, away from the woods they released the prince into."

Hadewig collapsed at his desk, screaming in agony while pawing at his chest. "No! It's all his fault! Find me that little bastard- I'll kill him myself!"

The seven dwarven women listened to the young man recall his tale of woe, his eyes full of tears but a smile still on his lips. "So, if you please, could I stay here? Just until my love returns for me."

Happy sighed dramatically, blushing and twirling her beard. "That (Reader) is so brave~"

Grumpy smacked the back of her head. "That double crosser may have saved the prince, but that doesn't mean they won't double double cross him!"

Bashful stomped a foot. "It's true love! They would never!"

"Well, they never confessed their feelings," Doc said while cleaning her glasses, "they could have saved Snow out of the goodness of their heart."

Snow smiled, trying to calm the fragments of his heart. "I have to believe, to hope, that (Reader) loves me as I love them. To risk death for me.. but, they said we would meet again. And I trust them."

It was painful, knowing that his father wanted him dead, but what was worse was hearing that (Reader) had put their life in danger for him. Despite all the pain and punishment Snow had endured, he never held it against his step father, but now..

A dark, bitter seed had been planted.

And throughout the night as the household slept, Prince Snow could feel it grow, threatening to burst forth from his chest. The dwarven women were so kind to him. So inviting, and trusting.

He wondered what else they would do for him.

The dark haired man knew that the apple was poison from the moment it was placed in his hands. What kind of elderly man would be this far out away from any sort of town, especially if they were traveling to sell produce? He didn't know who the old man was, but knew that he must have been in cahoots with the king.

"Oh, I don't have any money." Snow said quite sadly, placing his head in his hand.

"For such a lovely young man? Free of charge."

"Are you sure?"

The old man was certainly no real beggar. Nothing made sense. It was cruel, what Snow thought to do, especially if he was wrong, but in case he was right.. Snow whispered to a bird before smiling brightly at the stranger, taking the apple in both hands.

"Of course, please take it!"

Snow bit into the fruit, but did not swallow, hiding the chunk in his hand. After a few seconds of pretending to chew, he collapsed, holding his breath.

The king almost immediately dropped his disguise, snarling. His once similarly raven hair had a stripe of grey.

In a voice barely louder than a huff, he said "It serves you right, you filthy bastard. I would have let you live, if you had simply left my (Reader) alone."

He exhaled. There was no movement from the floor.

"Are you dead yet? Can you still hear me? I hope you can." The king smiled. "I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave as I finally get my happily ever after."

But as he celebrated the dwarves rushed home from work, and a small bird was rallying forces to find the hunter and lead them to Snow's body.

As he monologued to what Hadewig assumed was his son's corpse, the women returned from the mines, righteously horrified and armed with pickaxes.

Hadewig heard a woman shout "Grumpy, don't!" before a pick connected with his lower back, piercing his organs from behind.

The pain was excruciating, sending fire up his body as blood poured out of him. He imagined (Reader's) face, finally smiling for him as they cradled him in their arms, accepting his love. Hadewig wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Instead, he witnessed Snow, smiling up at him from the floor.

(Reader) arrived just a moment too late, having been closer than they had expected due to how deep into the woods Snow had traveled. They witnessed the sobbing dwarves sitting at the door, too upset to enter their own home where the young prince they tried to rescue lie dead.

The hunter pushed passed them, not wasting a second to grab the young man. He was still warm, but wasn't breathing.

Snow kept his eyes closed as he felt the worst pain he had ever known.

(Reader's) hands slammed into Prince Snow's chest. A rib cracked under their strength, but Snow refused to show it.

Then their lips pressed against his.

His nose was held shut as (Reader) forced air into his throat, trying to get him to wake up. They continued the repetitions a medicine man had taught them while blowing air into his lungs.

"God damnit, Snow, wake up!"

They leaned in, and felt him breath against their mouth. His large brown eyes fluttered open, and his face reddened.

His lips curled into a weak grin. "You came back for me.."

Guilt washed over (Reader), hugging him tightly to their chest. "I'm sorry I left, Prince Snow."

Warm hands ran through (Reader's) hair. "Please.. Call me Theros."

The regret and pain kept (Reader) still, allowing the recently "revived" prince to pull them in for a kiss.

After all that (Reader) put him through, a kiss was the least they could do.

But for the born again man, it was just the beginning.

#sorry it took so long #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #genderbent #yandere king #yandere prince #love triangle #strong reader #cw blo0d #cw death

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ahhhwomen · 3 months

Text

Nothing really matters.

Vampire Empire

Part 3

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Well this was depressing to write... Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death Minors DNI 18+

Summary: You feel numb, what does it matter anymore?

Word Count: 2.1k

Taglist: @thinking1bee

The next time either of them sees you is in one of Natasha’s business meetings a few weeks later.

Back in Carol’s possession, you kneel in the corner of the conference room while Carol raises her voice at anyone with a slight attitude toward her idiotic ideas.

After half an hour, the constant bickering between the blond woman and Natasha’s respective staff members had become background noise.

There is a crinkling of paper as Natasha scuffles her documents around for a moment while deep in thought. The paper is smooth and high quality, her golden rings glide against the white surface, and she traces black lines of information she can recite in her sleep.

To Natasha’s surprise, you had seemed indifferent to her presence, you didn’t even glance at her once during the introduction to today’s meeting.

Following the same line back and forth, the ink smudges and blurs after the seventh round of Natasha's thumb gliding gently on top of the unimportant details.

She had to give credit where credit was due. You were poised and unbothered.

She could not say the same for herself, however.

Ever since she could smell you getting in the elevator with blondie, she kept glancing toward the door, waiting for your arrival. And now, she continuously spares a glance in your direction when she thinks someone talks too loudly or expresses themselves with broad gestures.

It doesn't take long for her to understand you a little better.

Carol changes you.

Your eyes are cast downward, and you hold your head low in a display of obedience. You are sitting on your heels with your hands just out in front of your knees. Your back is strung tight to form a perfect line and the muzzle is only for show. But whereas your posture and attitude would be considered perfection, your eyes are empty.

Natasha’s chair creaks and groans as she rocks back and forth, the leather cushion softens the knockback as her leg bounces against the flooring, unfitting of her usual characteristics, she can’t seem to keep her calm and collected demeanor.

Small tears and wrinkles form, as Natasha tightens her hands against some case report she wrote half-heartedly before bed the previous night. She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring.

You are still covered in bruises.

They are healing, and so are the once red and angry lines, they are now pinker and more muted. But it’s clear some of them were fresher, it had been close to a month since she had seen you last, yet the color of some were as fresh as a daisy.

Specifically, your face seemed to have been put through the gutter.

Though it was clear that whatever transpired that day hadn’t been repeated, she could still sense in you that Carol wasn’t very light-handed.

She tells herself it is because she pities you for having to go through the blonde’s rage, but there is also something about the two small puncture wounds on your neck that aggravates her.

Her fingers drum against the table in annoyance while she thinks it over, her nails clicking against the resin top of her newly polished conference table.

Pinching the skin between her eyebrows she sighs loudly. Enough so, that the man currently presenting stutters and has to loosen his tie before continuing with a slight tremor to his hands.

She can’t figure it out.

She huffs and readjusts her posture to show she is listening.

Never mind, the little mystery you are, she has business to attend to. With one last glance, she emerges herself back in the matter at hand and makes sure to fix Carol with a hard glare whenever something becomes too heated.

You are sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden.

The flowers bloom around you and rustle in the fresh, spring, wind. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the rosebush across the tiny plot of land. The birds sing in a tune you are not familiar with, but it’s nice. Lilies hug your legs, all colorful and fresh, there are tiny little droplets atop their pedals, it must have rained before you got out here.

That would explain the chill that settles deep in your spine.

There are dogs around, you hear them bark and growl at each other on the other side of the fence, but you don’t mind.

Because you are in the garden. With a fence between you and them.

Until one of them jumps the fence.

You have been staring at the ground with a slight tremor lacing your every move for the better part of an hour. She seems like a calm dog, but she’s big, bigger than you, and there is this presence to her that you don’t know what to do with.

She smells like the flowers around you, maybe that’s why you don’t flee. No matter how much you want to, you are frozen in your seat as the big hound stares at you.

She licks her snout and blinks slowly while you sit there. It feels like she is mocking you, almost as if daring you to move.

The wind picks up every now and then, the howling of the other dogs growing louder and more concerning, but the big dog doesn’t bat an eye. She growls deeply, but you can tell it isn’t directed at you, and then the other dog’s calm.

Maybe she is a nice dog, but it doesn’t matter.

A dog is a dog.

The fence opens with a piercing screech. Even as you close your eyes in hope, the big dog does nothing. She doesn’t run away, but she doesn’t help either.

She just watches as Master drags you away. You don’t know why you thought she would do anything else.

Master is right.

Master is always right.

No one will help.

You don’t deserve it.

When the meeting commends, Carol drags you out of the room quickly, she has other matters to settle tonight, and she can’t be bothered to stay here too long.

Your knuckles rasp against the expensive flooring of Mrs. Romanoff´s office. The tasteful tree-work makes your bones ache, and your tag jingles repeatedly as bone connects with fifty thousand dollars worth of Brazilian rosewood. The blond woman tugs at your leash impatiently.

“Carol. Wait a moment.”

Please don’t.

Master halted her movements just before she passed through the elevator´s door, effectively also halting yours.

“There is some paperwork James wants you to finish up before you leave.”

Natasha waves her hand around with a roll of her eyes, showcasing false annoyance she knows the blond will eat right up, “Something about an unsettled bank record?” The redhead squints in the blonde’s direction, displeasure hidden not so greatly on the CEO’s face.

Natasha has to work extremely hard to not showcase how disgusting she finds the woman in front of her to be.

The woman beside you tenses up. She bunches her eyebrows and sighs before nodding slowly and releasing the tight clutch on your leash.

A pointed finger comes into view as Carol shifts her body towards you and tilts her head downward to face you. “Stay here.” Her voice leaves no room for arguing, it’s a clear command, you know she only does it to showcase her power over you. You couldn’t talk back even if you wanted to, the clinic made sure of that long before you even knew Masters hard angles.

Nonetheless, you bow your head and place your rump back onto the cruel flooring, somehow it feels even stiffer than the concrete inside your familiar slammer.

There is a long and rather awkward silence before Miss Romanoff clears her throat and breaks the stillness.

“Are you in pain?” Natasha gestures towards her own face as if you need a hint to understand what she means.

Just a few months ago, Romanoff acknowledging you in the slightest would send you through a rollercoaster of fear and wonder. Now you merely play dumb and tilt your head in confusion.

Of course, it hurts.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

“You smell different.” Carol scrutinizes you from afar.

If it weren’t for the years of experience you have with this sort of thing you would give yourself away immediately by tensing up and begging for her mercy, instead, you remain impassive.

The blond woman studies you carefully, waiting for any telltale that you heard her.

It’s easier than you thought.

Maybe it’s from the emotional drainage these days have been, but you barely feel anything as Carol looks you over. No matter how much she has hurt you, her eyes hold nothing compared to the power that the Maximoff clan’s leader has in hers.

You can hear the familiar crunch of rough concrete beneath a heavy army boot.

Master moves closer, but still, you feel nothing.

It’s been three days since that day. The first night you sobbed your sorrows, your pain, your fear, everything that has been building up and suppressed throughout the years all expressed in a puddle of tears and blood.

You don’t know what the women wanted, but something about them had made ancient wounds reopen, and the floodgates that followed were inevitable.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, you find it more likely that you passed out from dehydration or exhaustion.

The other days had passed in a blur.

It’s like you have been stuck in a trance where nothing really matters anymore.

Then the smashing of keys came back, and still, you were inconsolable. You didn’t even acknowledge her when she ran her hands over your bare body. Didn’t blink as her hands took a threatening hold of your collar.

She was testing this new side of yours; you could tell it angered her that she didn’t affect you.

You ruined her little power trip of the day.

She grips the back of your neck and forces you to face her. “Look at me when I am talking to you!” Spit sprays on your face as she talks through gritted teeth.

You don’t care, you just stare at her through hooded eyes, looking but not seeing.

Her hand connected hard with your face; you could feel the vibration inside your skull. And yet, all you could think about were them.

The feeling of concrete pouring through your veins wasn’t so scary anymore.

*slap*

You wonder what would happen if she went all the way…

*slap*

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they killed you.

*slap*

“LOOK AT ME!” Carol screams into your ear, but it is fuzzy and unintelligible to you.

*slap*

“CAN’T YOU TELL I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH!?”

*slap*

“Look at me?” Her hand strokes your chin lightly, but you know her…

*slap*

Your head bounces against the pavement.

*slap*

Your vision becomes blurry and unfocused.

She hit you a total of twenty-four more times, before finally relenting and stomping away.

From that day forward you decided to play into it, pretend like what took place with the powerful women never happened to begin with. You were sure it would anger them.

If this is what Carol does when you ruin her little high.

Maybe, they will return and finish what they started if you ruin theirs.

Natasha scratches the nape of her neck as you sit there staring into nothingness. Your brows are slightly raised, and your eyes are wide, to Natasha, it seems like you are in a completely different world.

She leans against the wall, her shoulder squishing against the glass panel, and she crosses one leg over the other. Relying solely on her right leg to hold her up, she looks down at her dress shoes.

Her question was stupid, she knew as much, but what else was she supposed to say?

She wanted to talk to you.

Nat knows she should just leave you be and return back to her office, but when you were being led out of the room earlier your eyes had connected with her, it was a mere millisecond. But in that moment Natasha had felt a chill run down her spine.

Something was definitely wrong.

However, she didn’t expect you to completely shut down after just one simple question.

You are unresponsive to any stimuli while you sit in the hallway with Natasha’s presence close by. The older redhead tries to tap her foot or grunt obnoxiously, just to get a response, but nothing.

It’s not until you can hear Carol’s heavy footsteps that you quicken up and bow your head down.

Carol nods in Natasha’s direction before she passes her and collects you. Her gruff hands slide up and down the expanses of your leash until she finds the position that will yield her the most amount of control over your movements.

If the circumstances were different, Natasha would kill Carol on the spot.

Yet, as Carol takes ahold of your leash and steers you both into the elevator, Natasha lets you go.

Convincing herself it’s for the better. Again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat

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yoursweetwife · 15 days

Text

Synopsis: Aventurine accidentally finds out that you work in a cafe, and this meeting leaves a very good impression.

warning: reader wears dress, but pronouns are not specified, mention of Ratio, fluff, Aventurine in love, teasing , bad english

Aventurine walked into a cafe, hoping to relax after a long day. It wasn't often that he visited such places, but he had heard a lot of positive reviews about this cafe, and it was never too late to try something new.

He took off his glasses and began to examine the interior. Almost immediately his gaze settled on a familiar face. His classmate is wearing a beautiful black dress, decorated with ruffles and bows. He didn’t expect to see you here at all, although now he understood why you were so often in a hurry to leave.

For the first time in his life, he was glad to be unnoticed. Finding an empty seat by the window, he watched as you moved between tables, taking orders and chatting pleasantly with clients.

Aventurine found himself staring at your face illuminated by the sun for too long, which made you even more ethereal in his eyes.

He saw how you habitually covered mouth with your palm, laughing at the client’s words. What a pity that from his place he could not clearly hear your laughter.

As you finished your conversation with the client, your eyes met neon purple irises, you couldn't be more unlucky than you were today.

You stared at the blonde in shock, he was the last person you expected to see in this place. This is a rather inconspicuous cafe, and Aventurine could afford much more luxurious places.

He often visited casinos and other unpleasant places, but despite this, you and he had a good relationship, you would even dare to call you friends. But he was still a big tease, and this situation would give him more reasons to not let you live in peace.

Aventurine couldn't help but laugh when he saw your soft expression change to one of confusion. He playfully looked at your approaching figure, twirling a poker chip in his hand.

"The reviews didn't lie, this place really is a real find."

He leaned back on the couch and stared at you with his piercing violet eyes. You could never stop admiring them.

“Aventurine, what are you doing here? Have you lost all your money gambling, that’s why you came here?”

You asked jokingly, placing your hands on your hips. There seemed to be no limit to his balance sheet, with purchases and many parties worth several million, if not more.

Hearing the question, Aventurine raised his eyebrows and a mischievous grin spread across his face. The teasing tone in his voice was obvious.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh, [name]. Of course, I'm here for the atmosphere and amazing service."

He waved his hand in front of him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Aventurine couldn't help but feel awe at the sight.

Aventurine looked around the cafe, as if pondering his next words. When he turned back to you, his expression became more serious.

“Maybe there is a special service for good clients like me?.”

Aventurine winked, his smile never faltered.

You rolled your eyes playfully and placed the menu right in front of him. As attractive as Aventurine was, his cocky demeanor was damn annoying.

He was also a well-known playboy, so you were clearly not the first or last person he flirted with, although now he was rarely seen among girls. When you asked him about it, he simply said he was "bored." Even Ratio noticed this, although your blue-haired friend was not distinguished by the desire to delve into Aventurine’s love affairs.

"Better place an order or I'll report the harassment to security guard."

Aventurine laughed lightheartedly and waved his hand as if it didn't matter.

"Relax, honey, it's just a joke. I would never force you to do something against your will."

He rested his cheek on his palm and looked at you mysteriously. Another problem with being friends with Aventurine, you never know what he's thinking, but you really didn't have time to deal with that at work. Fortunately, there were almost no visitors.

"Would you like me to pick you up after work?"

You tilted your head, looking at the blonde questioningly. A spectacle that will not leave anyone indifferent, Aventurin is sure.

"B-but why?"

"Why not? We could visit a couple of nice places. Like a shopping center that recently opened or a park, even that museum you were talking about!"

Your cheeks burned when Aventurine said about the museum. It just slipped out of your mouth during the conversation; to be honest, you didn't think he was even listening to you at that moment.

“You can’t stand museums, you called them temples of boredom and dust, if I remember correctly.”

Aventurine shrugged, remembering how he was hit by your mutual friend Ratio with a very heavy book when he said this in front of him.. The blonde scratched the back of his head and his face softened as he looked up again.

“I really don’t understand what’s interesting about naked bodies or stones, but for your sake I’m willing to endure it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning, and Aventurine saw it too, but didn’t show it. Your hands played with the sleeve of your uniform to clear your thoughts a little, why did Aventurine even have to be so cute? You tucked your hair behind your ear and took a deep breath.

"At six. I finish at six today."

Aventurine blinked several times, processing the new information. Suddenly the biggest smile you had ever seen appeared on his face. He stood up from his seat and took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“Great! Until evening then? I need to buy tickets, I don’t want unnecessary delays to spoil the mood!”

Aventurine continued to wave even when he was outside the door. The poor guy almost fell on his back, running into a random passerby.

You laughed softly and shook your head, then your gaze shifted to the menu, which he hadn't even touched. The chip landed on the table with a loud thud, and he was so excited that he forgot his favorite chip.

You twirled the chip between your fingers, not noticing that you were looking at it for too long, until the bell above the door rang, signaling a new client.

Can you return the chip later during your...date?

#hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #female reader #aventurine #hsr #aventurine fluff

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machiavellli · 5 months

Text

Some Lorenzo Berkshire headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: after a month I made them. I am truly sorry, I am the ceo of procrastination. But I had so much fun writing those though, because Lorenzo is my silly lovely boy, I wanna hug him so bad, he too precious. And this song, reminds me of him so bad, like every time I listen to it, my mind immediately jumps to him.

Honestly I got a bit carried away, I wanted to cover maybe other parts, like how he is as a boyfriend, but well-. You read it and of course you can tell me what you think after :)

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Infos: pretty much just fluff, possible dramatic scene, no use of y/n, Lorenzo being cute, mutual pinning, English is not my first language (please if you find any mistake report them to me!).

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Lorenzo Berkshire, the most precious slytherin boy:

You two first met when you were just children because of your families

And I don’t know about you, but I used to despise boys so much when I was little, until I was seven (or perhaps even eight), so I kinda imagine your first meeting to be not that charming.

Like little Enzo panicking because he can’t understand what he did wrong, why this little girl is making such a disgusted face for him

But as you two grow more comfortable around each other, he becomes your best boy friend.

You two have many chances to see each other during your childhood and you always tried to make the best out of each encounter.

The type of kids that would cry when they have to separate after playing all day together.

And also the type of children that would definitely try to pull a prank on little Draco, just for them to get chased down by Lucius Malfoy himself after and cry frightened.

But something inside you two changes when you both are forced into your first ballroom dancing class (I headcanon that all the high-ranking families in the magical society enjoy hosting elegant dinners and balls, so follow me on this)

The proximity between you two, the touch of her hand, totally make little Enzo go all flushed.

Therefore, that soft innocent crush in the heart of the two children starts to blossom.

You drew hearts next to his name in your diary, imprisoning your feelings at the edge of a paper too scared to burn at the sight of the light, too scared to show this growing affection.

Little Enzo would sometimes pick a flower from his garden, trying to build some courage in himself for giving it to you. But that never happens.

When you get to Hogwarts he is your rock.

Perhaps if you an introvert he is the one introducing you to people or literally bringing you inside a friend group.

Ever heard of the trope “extrovert adopts an introvert”? Like that I mean.

Anyway, the crush is still there, of course, but none of you dare to even consider talking about it. Because no one has the guts to risk losing their favorite person.

Lorenzo is very cheerful, a ray of sunshine, and as he grows more people start to notice. And that’s a problem.

You are jealous, terribly.

Seeing those girls approaching him, giggling like infants, even when you are right at his side, hurts you.

He always refuse them politely and you smile in you mind.

Lorenzo is such a gentleman and everybody knows it.

Always giving you his arm while walking, opening doors,

moving chairs,

asking “how did you sleep darling?” or “have you eaten today dear?”

hugging you every time you see each other,

Offering his jacket to you as soon as he notice that it is becoming a little cold

Listening you ramble for hours about your favorite subject or a book you just read, always with that delicious little smile painted on his face.

And if he finds you crying for whatever reason he will take you into his arms immediately.

Listening to you explain through your tears what happened, while one hand strokes your hair gently and the other your back.

Seeing you hurt has an effect on him, definitely will let a couple of tears slip while you can’t see him.

Lorenzo is an empath, he will understand you and he will comfort you.

Also I feel like his love language is debatable, but he will definitely like to touch you, to feel your presence concretely.

Even if you two are not together he will often try to pull out an arm around your shoulders, always respecting your decision to refuse it and your personal vital space though.

Perhaps, sometimes, as you are all focused making your pen run during your studies session, he will look at your hand, wishing to be able to linger over it without an explanation.

He is also jealous, of course, because no one knows how desperate he is for you, how he feels blinded by how beautiful you have grown.

He feels his eyes and heart burning when a guy at a party tries to hit on you.

The golden retriever energy is suddenly gone and Theo will pull out a worried look for his friend.

But you aren’t his, how stupid it is of him to ache himself for something he never had.

After another scene of this kind, Theo decides to ask him about this totally not subtle behavior of his. (You already know that I headcanon Enzo and Theo to be best buddies shhh)

It takes a while for him to confess, but either for the tipsy state or the exhaustion that this situation has brought to him, he confess.

After years, let’s say it happens in the 6th year, he finally tells someone, felling already a bit lighter.

Theo looks at him, trying to not laugh, but miserably fails: “mate do you need glasses?”

And then he explains to him that anyone can see that something is going on between the two.

That you look at him like he is the sun lighting your existence and so does he with you.

Perhaps it is time to act now, to not fear, to be brave.

He won’t ask you directly though, I see him more prone to writing down a letter to you

Pouring on paper his feelings, how exceptionally well you make him feel, in conclusion, his love for you.

The angel sent from above that you are in his eyes, that he always had and always will e have at his side if he seals with ink his emotions.

Perhaps it could look something like this:

My Dearest,

In the quiet corners of my soul, I've carried a secret for what feels like an eternity, my heart dances to the rhythm of your name. Amidst youthful dreams and uncertain tomorrows, your laughter echoes in my thoughts, painting vivid hues in the canvas of my days. With each passing day, your radiance grows, illuminating the path of my existence. Today, in this moment of bravery, perhaps taken by a Gryffindor spirit, I dare to confess what has long lingered unspoken: I adore you beyond measure.

Yours sincerely,

Lorenzo

And do we want the realization dramatic? Of course, is that even a question?

You recive his letter in a moment of privacy, perhaps in a quiet corner of the library while you are studying.

A first year approach you and quickly says “It is from Lorenzo Berkshire, he wants to know what you think then” before running away.

You look at the letter puzzled, looking at the delicate handwriting in which your initials are written on the outside.

You open the letter and everything just stops.

Only your eyes move, running desperately over and over again on the words overflowed by pure love.

How is it that you never noticed?

How is it that someone can love you so deeply?

The clock has continued its tireless dance for too long and you finally had enough.

There it won’t be peace until you found him.

An exceptional energy, filled with excitement, happiness and love, takes over you.

You suddenly snap, lifting yourself up from your cozy spot, leaving everything behind, because your real everything is in front of you.

The sound of your shoes, tirelessly beating against the hard floor as you run, is all you can hear.

People send concerned look in your way as you brush not so cordially their shoulder, trying to make your way to your lover.

The halls are full, the rain is once again pouring outside, you don’t even know where you are going, simply drove by the now fully ignited sentiment.

Lorenzo is repaired outside in the viaduct courtyard, waiting for his friends to be done with their smoking when he sees you.

You, bravely exiting the library annex, making your way to the viaduct bridge, looking left and right, looking for him.

Without a word to the others he starts running in your direction, the rain quickly wetting him entirely.

You are now both running, from opposite side of the bridge, people gathering around looking as the scene consume before them.

It is cold,

It is wet,

The nature is gray under the fog.

But two hearts beat ferociously, desperately trying to approach the other.

Your drenched hair flows with your movement, hands in a fist, your vision lightly blurred.

And in the middle of the bridge he catches you.

An hug full of every word neglect for so long.

He spins you around for has many years he had to wait for this, before he lets you go, moving his hands to cup your face gently as the rain harshly pours on you.

Eyes so desperate to crawl into the other’s spirit.

“I sense my letter has reached you” he will say smiling like an idiot drunk on love

You giggle, like the kids you used to be.

Because you have known each other for a lifetime, but only now he has found you.

“My dear, I love you” he will say before kissing you, warming your body, lighting your existence.

Everything faded then, from the cheers of the other students looking at the theatrical scene, to the screams of the various professor trying to pull you inside.

Your heart finally funded his.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

I hope you liked them🫶✨

my ask box is open btw!

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luci4theminorannoyance · 6 months

Note

Hihi! I’m in an angsty mood, so if it’s no bother would you mind writing falsely suspected traitor!reader (gn) with Gaz, ghost, soap, velikan, roach, Keegan and Krueger (I’m sorry, I don’t know your character limit, it’s completely up to you how many and which of them you want to write for!!) but they only find out reader is innocent after they already tortured reader?

Reader does forgive them but is very much traumatised, believing it’s something they did in order to bring suspicion to themselves, so reader starts to act differently. More meek and withdrawn, always keeping their head down and voice quiet, flinches and has low self esteem, …etc

Of course no pressure to write this at all!! And I’m sorry if any of the phrasing is weird, English is not my first language 😅

Hope you have a great day/evening!

a/n: I’m pretty sure I have a request just like this in my inbox and drafts somewhere lol (my drafts from old old requests are still gathering dust I’m so so so sorry to the people who requested btw)

Gaz:

-heart shattered with the most painful look on his face when he found out you didn’t lie to him. That you were innocent.. that when he was doing everything to pull info out of you and treating you like scum, that your answers of ‘I’m not lying!’ And pleas were all.. real

-went to you the second he could, shivering in self hatred especially when he saw the wounds he had caused on your body

-once you finally got back to good terms, he could see all the damage he did and it hurt him so much. He wanted YOU back, the loud, funny, unworried you… he didn’t know what to do

soap:

-held you so close for so long as soon as he figured out you didn’t lie to him. Or the team.

-tried everything and I mean EVERYTHING to try to get you back to how you were before it all

-every time you flinch or whisper, he can feel his guilt stabbing him though the heart, he can just imagine how you must feel.. and to think he could have helped.

-If he wasn’t so close to the rest of the team, he probably would have yelled at all of 141 for even assuming you were the traitor

ghost:

-feels so utterly guilty, like a wound was given to himself rather then you

-hates the fact he genuinely thought you would ever do that to him

-tried to distance himself from you now that you were back… he was just so guilty

-what if he hurt you again? What if you were still mad? What if you hated him now? He just couldn’t face it.

-when he found out you forgave him, an invisible weight was lifted off of him. But as he saw you be so quiet, he could feel his hands sake and his body almost collapse. He did this. He hurt his lover. He could never trust himself with you like he used to again.

-was oh so careful with you since then.. but could never shake the guilt

velikan:

-he HATED you when he thought you were a traitor. He had deleted every photo. Burnt every gift. Broke any shared thought. So finding out he had lost all of that hurt him so much he sat and cried for days, begging and pleading to anything that time could rewind and that he could have his memories and gifts back

-he tried so hard to make new ones with you to, he basically followed you like a lost puppy. But he knew even though you forgave him, he was damned to feel guilt every time you weren’t your same old self

-he missed his memories of you in photos and pages of his journals, he missed your bright smile and loud confidence, he missed all the things you changed from trauma he didn’t stop

-he hated himself for hating you when you were so innocent

keegan:

-he felt rage, rage at his teammates, rage at the captain who reported you for suspicious activity, and most of all, rage at himself for not protecting you like he always promised you he would

-couldn’t stand seeing you flinch, couldn’t stand not being able to reassure you that it would be okay and that he would protect you if it ever happened again

-because he knew his words of protection didn’t mean anything now. He had failed to protect you and even participated in harming you for something as simple as a claim…

kreuger:

-he thought that as soon as he started to fix things, you yourself would get fixed. But he was so wrong

-tried anything he could think of to make you feel safe to be yourself again, and whenever it didn’t work he’d secretly shed a tear

-it was like seeing his lovers ghost.. you weren’t you anymore, and it shattered him so much that he couldn’t fix it

-he could fix his guns, he could clean up your wounds, he could tell you that it was okay to be yourself again, he could fix the broken mirrors in his room, but he couldn’t fix you. He couldn’t get you back the way he remembered you, and he knew no matter how many years of therapy kortac paid for, it still wouldn’t fix you perfectly…

724 notes · View notes

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