A/n: He's lowkey clingy...Sleepy/lazy sex with Olruggio next??
Jealous sex with Qifrey doesn't mean his hips snapping against your ass at a brutal pace, or his touch straying far from the gentle touch you've become accustomed to—although his touch is not as tender as it was.
Jealous sex with Qifrey isn't him verbally degrading you or teasing you more than he normally does.
Jealous sex with Qifrey is him trying to find comfort in you. Every word that slips from his lips is a plea for security. When you try to hold your sweet moans from his ears, he grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye, and with a pitiful beg, "Let me hear you. Let me hear the efforts of my love."
Qifrey's thrusts are paradoxical. Slow and sensual quickly becomes frantic and sloppy. There is no sense to his motions when he struggles to comprehend his jealousy. He's not mad at you, but the world itself. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he has no other outlet for these vile feelings brewing in his heart.
Jealous sex with Qifrey means a lot more marks around your neck that resemble the ring of the glyphs he's always making. They're scattered around your neck, shoulders, and inner thighs.
Kisses are deep and a fight you can't win. His tongue explores the crevice of your mouth, dominating your tongue in his yearning. His kisses go beyond just your lips. His lips trail down your body, taking your breast in his mouth while his hands feverishly knead at your skin. His touch isn't as gentle as it usually is. It's desperate. His fingers dig into your skin, kneading it between his fingers while his hips hump against you pathetically.
Every moan, whine, and cry is magic to his ears. He pleases you so that you can scream to the world that you are his.
"Tell me how good I make you feel."
"Don't be shy darling, let me hear you."
"I love you…I love everything about you…you love me too, right?"
Jealousy, sexy with Qifrey is comforting a man whose insecurity got the better of him!
The blindfold was soft, but the silence was deafening. You trusted Yuta with every fiber of your being, but this? This was something else entirely. The cabin that you two had rented for the weekend was secluded and surrounded by nothing but the forest, it felt like a world of its own. The stars outside were brighter here, much prettier than the usual city lights. All you could do was feel— the coolness of the sheets beneath you, the faint scent of vanilla candles Yuta had lit, and the slight chill in the air that made your skin prickle with anticipation.
Most people might raise an eyebrow at their boyfriend taking them to a secluded cabin in the woods and then asking to tie them up. You would tell those people they’ve been watching too many movies, yet you couldn’t shake off the slight adrenaline pumping through your veins at the slight danger of the situation.
Your heart raced a little faster as you lay in anticipation for Yuta to touch you. Your hands were tied, but not restrained to the bed; they rested above your head just as he had instructed. You were undressed, save for your panties, and the chill of the cabin made your nipples hard.
It was so quiet. There wasn’t another soul around for miles, and even the crickets had stopped chirping once the sun set and the night grew colder.
“Safe word?” He said as his voice broke the silence.
“Caterpillar,” you whispered.
“Good girl.” The warmth of his hand brushed against your cheek, and you leaned into it instinctively. “Ready for the next step?”
Your breath quickened. You had already talked about using a blindfold and earplugs before getting started, and while you had done this type of play before, you had never experienced it in this setting. Never this isolated and so completely at his mercy. You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to be so vulnerable.
His touch against your face grounded you, making you feel safe.
“Do you trust me?” His voice was a whisper now, closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “We don’t have to use the earplugs.”
He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. The tender gesture left you wanting his lips on other parts of your body, wishing for more than just soft kisses.
You breathe in and calm your heart. you nodded, letting the tension in your shoulders ease.
“I’ve got you doll, just relax.”
Then, the world went quiet. The earplugs muffled everything, even the sound of your own breathing. You couldn’t hear the creak of the floorboards, the rustle of the sheets, or the soft hum of Yuta’s voice. All you had was his touch.
He rose from your side, leaving the space beside you cold and empty. You waited until you couldn't bear it. You fought the urge to move, to reach out and find him in the darkness. Your mind raced with possibilities. Where is he? What’s he doing?
And then his lips were just suddenly on yours, slow and feather soft. You could feel the warmth of his body above you, but he didn’t press down, making you focus solely on his lips. A breathless gasp escapes you and you try to deepen the kiss desperatly but he backs off, denying you.
You wet your lips, still tasting him. He was sweet and reminiscent of the candy he had been eating all night. He tasted like lemon drops.
The next time you felt him, it was fleeting and teasing, but it hit you like a punch to the gut nonetheless. His fingertips trailed up the inside of your thigh. His touch felt like fire, and the way his lips followed the same path between your thighs was like ice. He was driving you crazy with need. Your breath quickened as you fought to stay still and be good for him. The only thing Yuta liked about brats was breaking them, and you knew better than to act out. Yuta liked control, liked to tease, and you weren’t about to give him a reason to punish you.
He took your bound wrists, which lay above your head, and guided them to his face. Gently, he opened your hands and pressed his face into your palms.You felt the curve of his cheekbone, the softness of his lips, and the slight stubble along his jaw. As you touched and caressed his face, it was as if you were seeing him for the first time. You could gauge how close he was, and you could tell what expression he wore when his lips spread into a wide smile.
He traced your fingers along his lips, kissing the pads of each fingertip before slipping 2 digits into his mouth. One second he was sweet, and the next, he was doing things with his tongue that made you blush, licking and sucking on your fingers before pulling them out, glistening wet.
He took your damp fingers and guided them down his stomach. You followed the prominent vein on his lower abdomen that led into the waistband of his briefs. your fingers brushed against the hard length of him through his briefs. You squeezed, stroking him gently, imagining the way his breath would hitch, the way his raspy voice would sound when he moaned.
But before you could take it further, he pulled away.
“Baby, please,” you whined, your voice sounding distant and muffled to your own ears. “I can’t take it anymore.”
You didn’t hear his response, but you felt the bed dip under his weight, felt his hands on your skin, warm and insistent. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips. His kisses were hungry now, no longer teasing, and you matched his intensity.
He pulled your panties down your legs, the cool air hitting your core and making you gasp. You were so sensitive, so ready for him, and the thought of him finally taking you made your head spin.
“Please, Yuta,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I need you.”
You're not sure why you still expect to hear a response, instead you felt the weight of his body as he moved between your legs, his hands gripping your hips. You could feel the press of his length against your entrance, and you held your breath, waiting, waiting—
The first thrust knocks the breath from your lungs. The second thrust was deeper, and you cried out, the sensation overwhelming. You were so full with him that it felt intoxicating, blurring the lines between one stroke and the next.
And then he started moving faster, the force of each of his thrusts driving you forward. His grip on you was firm, keeping you in place as he fucked into you with a relentless rhythm. You could feel the tension building in your core, your body tightening with every thrust, and you knew you were close.
“Yuta,” you moan. “I’m— I’m going to—”
Before you could finish, he quickly removed the blindfold and earplugs. It was as if your senses surged back to life all at once, overwhelming you and making your body hypersensitive. You squeezed around him tightly, spiraling over the edge.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you into ecstasy. He buried himself deep inside you, his body pressed against yours as he came, his breath hot against your neck.
After you both caught your breath, Yuta looked you over, concern etched on his face as he ensured he didn’t push you past your limits. You reassured him that you’re fine and that you loved every second of it, a smile spread across his lips. Satisfied, he gently pulled you up and led you towards the shower for round two.
doctor's visit (ryland grace x gn!reader)
summary: you find it harder and harder to ignore the cute scientist that always sits next to you during your meetings
wc: 7k
cw: smut! submissive ryland and the glasses stay ON !! MINORS DNI !!
a/n: little nervous about this one :’) why’s ryland’s character so hard to get right?? enjoy!
It took everything in you to squash the laugh that threatened to bubble out of your throat when you beheld the man dubbed the “leading scientist in astrophage”. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the lanky man stumbling out of the jet, nearly falling backwards off the little ladder, wasn’t quite what you pictured. The second his foot touched the concrete landing pad, he hunched over to pick up a small orange traffic cone sitting next to the plane and proceeded to hurl whatever he’d last eaten into it.
Stratt grimaced, fidgeting anxiously next to you to get moving, and gestured for you to follow her once the scientist seemed to gather his bearings enough to stop heaving.
“Doctor Grace, how was your flight?” She asked.
He only replied with a thumbs up. A set of glasses were askew on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t move the orange cone far from his mouth when the two of you neared.
“Doctor Grace, this is Doctor (L/n) who’s here to make sure you’ve made it in one piece before we discuss your findings. Excuse me for a moment.”
As Stratt moved to discuss something with someone on the landing strip a couple of feet away, you took that as your queue to approach the man. He looked pale, watching wearily as you approached with a smile.
“Enjoy the view on the way here, Doctor?”
You wasted no time, moving to find the doctor’s free hand that wasn’t holding the vomit filled cone, to feel for his pulse. It was frantic, pounding against the pad of your fingers but unwavering. He let his hand fall limp in your hold, seemingly out of strength to do much besides stand in place.
“Well… I can’t say I saw much. I was unconscious for most of it. Loved the last bit though, when we’d landed and weren’t in the air anymore. Hey, do you have any water? Some guy gave me a pill and I think it’s still stuck in my throat.”
A smile creeped onto your face. You’d known this man for barely a minute but you could feel that he had a gravitating way about him. Something charming and sweet. Dropping his arm, you nodded to him and gave him the water bottle you’d brought along. You also held out a small white pill. He instantly shook his head.
“Ah, no thank you. Last time I took a pill from a stranger, I woke up on an aircraft carrier.”
“It’s dramamine, Doctor.”
A pause.
Defeat.
“Okay.”
You helped him open the bottle, as one of his hands was still occupied holding his puke cone, and watched as he gulped down mouthfuls of water to chase the dramamine.
“Pulse is strong. How’s your breathing?”
“Uh- fine, I guess?”
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
He adjusted his glasses with his wrist to finally properly fit over the bridge of his nose and blinked. “Two.”
You gave a firm pat to his back, which he groaned at. “Welcome aboard, Doctor Grace!”
-
While your first meeting was brief, that was not the last time you saw Doctor Ryland Grace. After he finally found his sea legs, he became a regular presence at every meeting in regards to Project Hail Mary.
You weren’t invited to many meetings, only joining when the meetings were about the health of the crew during their journey to Tau Ceti. The robot being constructed to care for the comatose astronauts was an impressive piece of technology unlike anything built before but it needed to be programmed perfectly to ensure the crew’s safety. If it went wrong- the crew would die and so would the rest of Earth.
That’s why you were brought aboard, to help bring up any possible problem that could happen with the crew on their trip and how the robot would handle it. You worked closely with a slew of other doctors, each of you bringing your own experience to the table.
As a Doctor specializing in neurology, your input was crucial. Being in a coma for several years was not ideal and could do some irreparable harm to the brain, which you disclosed as such in your meetings. It was an intricate dance, trying to solve the multitude of potential problems that came up with so many people with differing opinions
They also occasionally had you stationed as an on-call doctor when you weren’t discussing the mission, setting you up in the medical wing of the giant aircraft carrier to handle any ailments of the crew. You didn’t mind the busy work, it gave you something to do when you weren’t in the lab helping with the robot or fighting with a room full of scholars.
The first time Doctor Grace showed up to one of the medical meetings, he was 15 minutes late.
Stratt gave him a look that exuded annoyance as he scrambled to sit in the only empty chair at the table, which happened to be between you and the most powerful woman in the world.
“Sorry everybody,” he waved quickly in apology with an awkward laugh and dumped a folder of papers on the table. The room was dead silent. “This place is a maze! I got lost somewhere on deck C I think. They should really put up some signs.”
If Stratt wasn’t five feet away, you would’ve giggled. There were signs all over the ship. In several languages.
A cardiologist from Brazil tapped his pen against the metal table in agitation. “As I was saying…”
While the conversation buzzed on, discussing circulation and muscular atrophy that would arise from the crew's prone state for several years, you felt a shoe knock into yours. Turning your eyes away from the table, you were surprised to find Doctor Grace looking at you.
“Do you have an extra pen?” He whispered, not very quietly. He was leaning towards you like you were swapping secrets. The soft fabric of his quarter zip brushed against your arm.
Getting some glares from those sitting closest to you, you only nodded back and slipped an extra pen out of the spiral of your notebook.
“Thank you. Hey, you’re that doctor that checked up on me on my first day here, right? Thanks for that, by the way, the pill really helped. I nearly filled up that cone first though, that was a little embarrassing.”
He laughed, another awkward chuckle that had you glancing sidelong at him.
Someone who used humor when they were uncomfortable, it seemed.
Taking a quick look around the room to make sure no one was watching, you leant towards him, bringing your heads closer together. He startled back a bit but didn’t pull completely away.
“When I first got here, I got so seasick I accidentally puked all over my tour guide’s shoes. At least you made it to a cone.” You whispered, smiling at the memory.
Doctor Grace looked at you in shock, eyebrows raising into his hairline. “Really?!” He was really bad at whispering.
“Doctors, do you have an idea you’d like to share with the room?” The leading creator of the nurse robot, Doctor Lamai, peered at your hunched forms.
Jerking away from each other, Doctor Grace and yourself didn’t talk for the rest of the meeting but you had to fight a smile when he slipped you a folded note that just had a crude drawing of a puking face.
-
Any meeting that you attended after that, Ryland- as he’d asked you to call him- would find his place next to you. After learning how tough of a crowd most of the medical crew was, the two of you didn’t talk during the discussions again. But you did start passing notes like a couple of school children.
-
Did you know that the brain is a human’s fattiest organ? -R
Yes -(Y/n)
Really? -R
I’m a neurologist, Ryland. The brain is my job -(Y/n)
Oh yeah -R
Did you know that a human brain produces enough energy to power a small lightbulb? -R
-
This robot is basically like that big marshmallow doctor robot in that one movie -R
Baymax? -(Y/n)
Yeah that sounds right -R
Ours probably won’t be as cute as Baymax is -(Y/n)
Probably not. Maybe we should suggest something to make it cuter. Paint it in pink glitter and give it some eyes -R
Somehow I think that’ll make it even scarier than it already is. Go back to the drawing board -(Y/n)
-
I saw a bird today -R
What kind of bird? -(Y/n)
Seagull -R
Well, we are out at sea -(Y/n)
It’s a little too far out in the ocean to be seeing birds, don’t you think? They get tired -R
Maybe it was a stowaway? -(Y/n)
Poor guy :( -R
-
You learned a lot about Ryland over the next several weeks.
Ryland was full of fun facts and interesting thoughts. He’d barrage you with them any chance he had, and you would listen. While medical facts were mostly common knowledge to you, fun facts about anything else was always a pleasant conversation starter.
He taught you everything there is to know about astrophage and how it works, once even letting you visit him in his little personal lab to see the little microorganisms yourself. He’d carefully prepared a slide for you, making sure the focus was perfect before stepping back to let you peer into the microscope. When you started barraging him with questions, he was more than excited to answer- leading you around his mini lab with a hand on your back.
You learned that he has a mild shellfish allergy. A rather unfortunate finding. He spent a couple of hours in the medical wing laying on a cot, popping benadryl like candy and breaking out in hives after some cross-contamination with shrimp in the cafeteria kitchen.
His favorite animal is a fox and he has a surprising collection of fox related things to prove it.
He was a molecular biologist, now turned loud-and-proud middle school science teacher. He loves his students dearly and spent the greater part of several years revolving his life around their education.
He rarely ever swears. At least, not the actual words, but their modified, kid-friendly versions. He’d have teachers knocking down his apartment door if he swore in front of his class, unintentionally expanding their vocabulary.
When he was trying really hard not to laugh, he’d make this tiny snorting noise that sounds an awful lot like a spray bottle.
He doesn’t know how to use chopsticks. Not the right way, at least.
He has no immediate family, no pets and no partners.
He was an enigma really; someone that felt so out of place on this ship. Ryland felt too… normal to be here. Not in a negative way, just a… he-should’ve-never-been-dragged-into-this kind of way. He was too warm compared to most everyone else here. The aircraft carrier was bursting at the seams with cold government officials and specialists in every science or space related subject to ever exist. Many were too professional, too self absorbed to realize they had a stick up their ass.
Ryland was a breath of fresh air and you felt increasingly drawn to him every time you interacted.
It also didn’t hurt that he was attractive. Like… insanely attractive. His hair was perfectly messy every single day. He wore his glasses in such a way that you’d never seen anyone wear glasses before, hanging off one ear when he wasn’t using them. A near constant 5 o’clock shadow was always gracing his face. Despite his clothing choices which some around you found unprofessional, he pulled off everything he wore. His fox cardigan, his yellow rain coat, his cringy science-pun t-shirts. It shouldn’t, but it made him that much more alluring and it was getting harder and harder for you not to make a move.
You were friends- acquaintances at the least- but he’d never shown any interest. At least not that you’d seen. He was awkward sometimes but he was awkward with everyone. You didn’t want to make things weird, so you stuffed those feelings deep and filed them away for later. Plus, he was technically higher ranking than you in the Hail Mary hierarchy. He was Stratt’s right hand man. Maybe he didn’t want to ‘pull rank’.
These sorts of thoughts kept you up at night while you tried to ignore the sounds of the 3 other medical staff sleeping around you in your shared bunk. He wouldn’t get out of your head and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore that tightening string in your gut.
-
On Friday nights, the room on the ship that served as the social meeting place for many of the crew, equipped with a bar, was packed to the gills. You usually dropped by to say hi to the couple of coworkers and other doctors that you were friendly with but never staying for long. You just didn’t know anyone well enough to want to stay and chat. At least you didn’t… until one particular Friday night.
The hunched form at the bar clad in that unmistakable fox cardigan caught your eye almost immediately. He was hard to miss.
This was the first time you’d seen Ryland here. You weren’t sure why he never came, but he was the one person on his whole ship you’d actually consider sharing a drink with.
Immediately making a bee-line for the bar, you saw that the doctor was flipping through several sheets of paper, head in his hand as he read. The people surrounding him at the counter were making light conversation, enjoying a beer and enjoying their Friday night.
Ryland was working.
“Y’know this room is supposed to be a reprieve from work, not somewhere you bring your work to, right?”
The blonde looked up in surprise as you squeezed to stand in the small empty space between him and the guy sitting on the barstool next to him. It was a tight fit, and Ryland immediately shuffled over an inch in his seat to give you some more room.
Or to avoid touching you, which didn’t sit right in your stomach.
His glasses were near falling off his nose. He looked tired.
“I know but I couldn't sleep so I decided to come here. I brought some homework because I needed something to keep my mind busy and so I don’t look like a total loser sitting here by myself. Is it working?”
“Well,” you hummed. “I don’t think you’re a loser but I might be a little biased.”
He smiled, twirling a pen between his long fingers over the papers. You nodded over to where a karaoke machine sat and the 3 Hail Mary crewmates sat with their extra counterparts. “Why don't you go join them? You know them well enough, right? You’re working with them all the time.”
Ryland shifted in his seat to look over his shoulder. His knee pressed against your thigh which made it extremely hard to focus on his answer.
“No, I don’t think I really fit in with their crowd.”
“Why not?”
“They’re brave. Strong. Sometimes I don't even know why I'm here to be honest. Why Stratt dragged me here. A humble middle school science teacher.” He laughed lightly, but it wasn’t a genuine one.
Your heart squeezed into a knot for this man who’d been uprooted from his comfortable life as a teacher and thrown into this madness without his consent just like many others. He felt unsure about his place here and besides Stratt who had him on a leash, he had no one, it seemed.
Besides you, you hoped.
You prayed he enjoyed your company enough to feel a little less alone.
“Well,” you leant back against the bar to properly look at him. He looked up at you over the golden frames of his glasses. “I’d say you have every right to be here. You discovered how to kill an astrophage and see what it's made of. You discovered how they breed and now we have the means to create a powerful fuel for the mission that will save humanity. All important things we might not have right now without you.”
Ryland huffed and drew a little circle on his paper. “I’m sure someone would’ve thought to poke an astrophage with a stick eventually. And learning how they breed didn’t take too much thinking either, surely someone would’ve-”
“You can't spend your whole life focusing on the ‘what if’s’, Ryland. We're here now thanks to you, whether you wanna see it that way or not.”
Finally, a real smile split his face and he nodded slowly. You couldn’t tell if he’d accepted your words as truth or not, but they at least lifted his spirits a little. Plus, a tiny bit of red painted his ears.
“Thanks, (Y/n). Can I… buy you a drink?”
Your stomach fluttered. “Yes, as long as it’s not anything too hard. I’ve got a shift tomorrow.”
He nodded quickly and signalled for the bartender. “Two beers please.”
Bottles in hand, you continued to lounge against the counter next to him, nursing the beverage and making small talk. He’d offered his seat to you but you refused.
Looking out over the crowd, you spotted two individuals huddled together in the dim corner of the room. Ryland noticed your gaze and turned to look too. When he beheld the two scientists tangled together, he shook his head and turned back to you with a raised brow.
“I think DuBois and Shapiro are hooking up.”
“Seems that way.”
“Dont you think it’s a little crazy? I mean, he’s going to be trucked off into space soon and she’ll be left here. What's the point in hooking up when it'll only end in tragedy? You’re just asking for heartbreak.” He shook his head, fiddling with the plastic label of his beer.
You shrugged. “I don't see any harm in it. Sure it’ll hurt eventually but why not live in the moment? Humans yearn for connection, it makes sense they’d want to have some sense of normalcy before the end of the world. It's probably nice to forget about the apocalypse and enjoy someone's company for a while, take your mind off the doom and gloom.”
Ryland was quiet after that, suddenly turning anxious if his ducked head was any indication. Had you said something wrong? You drained the rest of your beer.
“Is that something you find yourself doing?” He asked quietly, feigning nonchalance but his foot was bouncing erratically against the bar stool.
Nervous.
A smile began to creep onto your face. “Not currently.”
His foot stopped.
Relief.
“But… if the right person came along I wouldn’t be opposed.”
His hand squeezed the bottle and his shoulders drooped.
Disappointment.
“Oh… haven’t found the right one yet?” He picked up his head with a painfully fake smile and a nod, looking around the room like he was helping you scout the place. “Lots of interesting people on this ship. A pilot would be cool, huh?”
“Yeah but they’re a bit too cocky for my taste.”
He tapped his finger against his stacks of paper. “Okay, what about… another doctor? Or one of the government officials?”
You grimaced and he cringed back. “Right, no doctors or government workers. If not them, then… what are you looking for?”
Ryland’s eyes were searching yours for a glimpse, a hint of what you might be feeling.
With the tiniest bit of liquid courage running through your veins, you tapped your beer bottle against your leg and lightly began playing with the sleeve of his fox cardigan. He became impossibly still.
“Someone real. Down to earth. Not afraid to be themselves… a nice smile and a pretty face sure helps too.”
The doctor gulped and you reveled in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing in the soft light of the room. He inclined his head once, fingers twitching against the bar. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.” He whispered.
Neither of you broke the heated eye contact until the man you were standing next to fell back in laugher and knocked you off your balance. You were able to recover quickly, but not before pressing even closer to the scientist and nearly falling into his lap. His hand had immediately planted onto your hip in an attempt to keep you steady. Being this close, you could feel the breath from his nose on yours. Your heart was pounding.
The room grew in volume as people flocked to gather around the karaoke machine that was playing a song you couldn’t even bother to name. Not while Ryland held all of your attention.
While his chest heaved, you slowly moved to stand properly on your own two feet but holding his gaze. You took the hem of his cardigan in your hand. It was so soft.
“Want to go for a walk?” You asked quietly, glancing at his stack of papers that were forgotten about long ago.
Ryland said nothing but started brushing his work into a haphazard pile good enough to hold in one arm and stood up. Standing at his full height, you were reminded again how tall the man was. When he offered his hand as a silent question, an inquiry to make sure he wasn’t reading anything wrong, you didn’t hesitate to take it. No one batted an eye at the two of you as you led him through the crowd and out into the silent metal hallways beyond.
-
Ryland could not unlock the door to his room fast enough.
He only had one key to his name while on the ship, you’d think it would be pretty easy to manage. In theory it was, but when his nerves were blasting through the roof and you were fiddling with the belt loop on the back of his pants, he got a little distracted.
You giggled as the scientist finally fished his key out of his pocket and proceeded to drop it on the floor with a clink.
“Sorry,” he strained, scooping it up from the floor and finally fumbling with the lock.
Once the door swung open and the two of you stepped inside, you did a quick observation of the room. It was extremely small, barely enough room for one person, let alone two. There was just enough space for a twin bed and a small desk attached to the wall. Rylands’s belongings were strewn everywhere there was space. While it was cramped, there was something he had in his room that you didn’t.
A window.
A tiny circular porthole- so small you couldn’t fit your head through it if it was able to open- but a window nonetheless. Your room was deep in the middle of the ship so no windows for you. As it was around midnight, there was nothing but inky blackness on the other side but you wondered what it would look like when it was daytime and the ocean was blue. For now, the soft glow of a tiny lamp kept the room illuminated.
“Oh god- don’t mind the mess. I don’t get many visitors.” He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, brushing some discarded clothes aside with his shoe. “But to be fair, it’s impossible to keep a room this small clean. I mean, no dresser, no closet. I’m not 100% sure but I think this used to be a storage-“
You liked to think you knew Ryland pretty well now, and knew when he was about to spiral into a rambling fit. He was especially prone when he was anxious. As much as you loved to hear him talk, now wasn’t the time.
When you took a step forward and fisted the lapels of his cardigan in your hands, his words died immediately.
When your hands tugged his body down and your lips slotted against his, his whole body froze up.
You didn’t push beyond a couple of seconds before pulling away a hair- keeping him close but giving him the room to decide if he wanted to stop or come back for more. For all you knew, he was just bringing you back to his room to show you his collection of fox things. Through lidded eyes, you watched as his eyelashes fluttered, dazing down at you in shock.
Suddenly worried that maybe you had indeed read things wrong, you began to ease up your grip on his collar. When his hands shot up to keep your head in place, cradling your jaw in his large palms and returned the kiss with eagerness, you smiled against him.
Months of brushing around each other snapped.
Your mouths were tangled in a heated dance- his body moving closer and pressing yours against the door, like he was trying to melt into you. He still had his glasses on, which meant you were being a little cautious of how close you pressed your face into his. You didn’t want to stab your eye on the rims, what a mood breaker that would be. But you didn’t want to ask him to take them off. In fact, you wanted to beg him to keep them on.
When his hands dropped to your waist to pull your hips together, you wound your arms around his neck, your hands immediately finding the back of his head- finally able to feel the mussed hair that snagged your attention day after day.
It was extremely soft, just as you’d imagined. Perfect, just like the rest of him.
Time blurred and you weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, tasting each other like you were starving. Eventually, you decided it was much too hot in the tiny room and you were both wearing way too much clothing.
Dragging your hands from his hair to trail down the strong column of his neck, you dipped your hands into his cardigan, sliding your fingers over his shoulders and pushing the cream knitwear off in the process.
He shivered under your touch, when your fingers glanced over his biceps as the cardigan fell to his elbows. His hands let go of your waist to allow the fabric to fall to the floor in a pile. When his hands returned, they planted themselves on the door next to your waist.
It wasn’t to tower over you, or to trap you against him. No, it was because he needed something to keep him upright or he was at risk of squishing you entirely against the metal.
You broke the kiss with a soft gasp, chest heaving against his where his shirt stretched over the muscle.
You’d never seen Ryland without something thrown over the top of a t-shirt- always wearing some type of jacket or lab coat or something. Now that he was without one, your hands mapped over his arms and shoulders.
As he busied himself with your neck, gently nosing at the soft spot just behind your ear, you swore.
“Shit, Ryland. What are they feeding you in the cafeteria? Protein powder?”
He laughed against your skin, dipping his lips down to your shoulder. His scruff tickled and the metal of his glasses were ice cold compared to your heated skin. “No. I just… go to the gym sometimes.”
“Sometimes.”
“Mhm-“ he choked on his affirmation when you slid your hands up his abdomen to feel underneath his shirt. The muscle was warm and fluttered against your fingers.
“Can I see what else you’ve been hiding under all these layers?”
Clothes were shed in a record amount of time, save for the couple of extra seconds Ryland took to take off his pants because he almost tripped over his own feet. He did seem to hesitate when he got to his boxers, fiddling with the hem, but when you hooked your fingers into the elastic, he let the fabric fall.
Once every part of you was exposed to the chill, circulated air, Ryland began chasing your mouth again but stopped with a grunt when you pushed him back onto his bed.
The look on his face was priceless, enough so that you laughed as you knelt on the hard mattress and swung a leg over his hips to straddle him. If Ryland had been red before, it was nothing compared to the color of his face now. His eyes glanced over your body, appreciating but not lingering out of nervousness as he stammered.
“You want to-?”
Straightening his glasses on his face to fit properly, you nodded. “Is this ok?”
“Yes! Yes- I’ve just never… my ex was more traditional I guess so we never… She always liked me to be on top.” He let out a breathy laugh and a shy smile.
Everything about this man was so endearing.
“As fun as that sounds, I want to try this first. I can see you better this way.”
Another audible hitch in his breath as he nodded. “Okay.”
His large palms found purchase on your thighs and he sighed blissfully through his nose when you bent forward to kiss along his jaw. It feathered under your lips and he tilted his head back to happily give you more surface area to work with.
When you finally ground your hips down onto him, he bucked under the pressure. A completely unintentional gesture that had him apologizing. You chased that response, rhythmically moving your pelvis in tandem with his.
Ryland whimpered.
You’d be damned if you didn’t try to get him to make that sound a hundred times more before morning.
You spent several minutes exploring his neck with your tongue while keeping a firm pressure with your hips, gently swaying in circles against him. You found a spot right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder that had him moaning. By the time you eased up, red marks bloomed along his throat and Ryland was already breathless. Chest heaving against your palms, he looked heavily up at you through those glasses of his and gave you a shy, lopsided grin.
“That was nice.”
You raised a brow. “I’m gonna have to work harder if all I get is a ‘that was nice’, Ry.”
His smile dropped. “No! That’s not what I meant- I just… I’m gonna be honest it’s been a while since I’ve…” his voice quieted, letting you fill in the blanks.
You knew he had an ex- he’d brought her up occasionally in your conversations when the moment called for it- but you didn’t know how long ago that had been. If you had to guess, it was probably before he became a teacher. Which if what he was saying was true… then he’d hadn’t been with anyone since then and had gone several years without being intimate with anyone (besides himself, anyway).
Ryland took your momentary pause as a bad sign.
“Not that I haven’t wanted to! I’ve just been really busy. Teacher stuff. Grading. Lesson planning. And with a teacher’s salary on top of crippling student loan debt? Fancy restaurants can be a little too steep. Even fast food restaurants these days are getting expensive. I don’t even have a car! I bike to work! Can’t even afford a coffee date some months.”
Another rambling tangent. One of his pointer fingers tapped erratically at your thigh.
“Well, you’re in luck Ryland,” you state, pressing a hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat, just like you had when you first met. Just like before, it was pounding but for a whole different reason this time. “I don’t think there’s any high-end restaurants on this aircraft carrier so I don’t need any of that fancy treatment. What if we have cafeteria oatmeal and orange juice on the flight deck together tomorrow morning instead?”
He was nodding before you’d even finished your sentence. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“Good,” you smile, raising yourself up to kneel properly over him.
His neck bobbed when you finally took him in your hand. He was warm and firm, the perfect length and size without being too much.
You felt him resist the urge to buck into your fist, instead throwing his head back against the mattress with a groan, tightly squeezing your thighs with his hands to ground himself. He was already leaking into your palm within a couple pumps.
“I-I don’t know how long I’ll be able to-“
“We’ve got all night, Ry, don’t worry.”
He nodded, comforted by your words. He was soft as silk and overly sensitive, it seemed. With the help of your hand, the scientist came quickly, just as he feared he would, painting his abdomen white. You shushed him before he could even think about apologizing.
One positive thing about him going so long without intimacy meant his refractory period was minuscule. He was hard again in minutes, which he’d blushed about.
When you finally sank onto him, moving slowly both for yourself and Ryland’s sake, all thoughts left your mind besides the ones that revolved around the man underneath you. You didn’t care about the dying sun, or Project Hail Mary, or your job. By his expression, Ryland was feeling the same.
His hands were surely leaving bruises on your thighs but you didn’t care one bit. Not when your bodies fit together beautifully. Fully seated, hips locked, you could’ve cried at how he felt inside you. He was just the right size, brushing every spot he needed to and then some without being too overwhelming.
When you began to move, Ryland helped where he could- offering your body stability and putting those muscled arms of his to good use. The veins on his forearms were bulging and the tendons in his neck were prominent against his skin.
You didn’t know how soundproof the metal boxes the higher-ups deemed bedrooms were, but you doubted they would do a good job of masking any of the noises the two of you were making. Ryland was keeping quiet as much as he could manage, teeth grinding. You were a little less reserved, gasping and groaning as you bounced. Let his neighbors hear, you didn’t care. Not when you finally got your chance with the scientist you’d been eyeing since the moment he stepped out of that jet.
Just like he was perfect for you, you could tell you were providing enough relief for him in return because you could feel his thighs began to quake.
When he bucked up into you again, unable to resist, your hold on that string deep in your gut snapped and you saw white. Feeling you finish brought Ryland to the edge too. He was just barely able to find the strength to lift your body high enough to pull out before he came.
The next several seconds were spent breathing in tandem. Ryland was watching you like you hung the stars in the sky. With all of the movement, his glasses had skewed again. Huffing a laugh, you bent forward to straighten them and then pressed a long lingering kiss to his lips. You felt his fingers glide up your ribs then wander to your spine, pressing your chest tightly to his.
His glasses were foggy by the time you pulled away, your shared breath heating the lenses.
“You ok?” You asked, brushing a thumb over the dusting of facial hair along his jaw. He nodded into your palm.
“More than ok.”
-
You woke up to snoring.
Not the loud, reverberating kind, but a soft and soothing hum that blended perfectly with the constant moans and groans of the ship you’d become so accustomed to.
Blinking open your eyes, you stared at the metal ceiling. It took several seconds to remember where you were. For a moment, you assumed you were in your room but when tiny glimpses of sunlight danced over the walls and when a hand twitched lightly against your waist, the memory of last night came rushing back.
The bar, your conversation with the scientist, and then-
A soft smile erupted across your cheeks as they warmed. Ever so slowly lifting your hand, you brushed your fingers through the head of hair that was tucked into your neck.
Indeed, Doctor Ryland Grace was laying by your side, pressed impossibly close to your body due to the cramped nature of his bed, and blissfully asleep.
All feelings of hesitancy and shyness he’d had hours earlier were gone as he slept, the doctor partially draped over you- an arm slung over your waist, a leg thrown over one of yours and tucked between your thighs. He was snoring against your neck where his face was pressed. You were pretty sure he was drooling. His feathered hair was soft against your fingers, even more unkempt than usual.
You could’ve stayed like that for hours, warm and comfortable even in the pathetic excuse for a bed.
Several minutes passed before he began waking up, stirred by the gentle pass of your fingers along the short hair at the nape of his neck. He moved around slightly but didn’t move to pull away from your side.
He sighed against your skin, the fluttering of his eyelashes against your throat telling you he’d finally opened his eyes.
“Good morning,” you said quietly, not wanting to break the peaceful tranquility of the room that was rare to find on the bustling carrier.
You felt him blink a couple times before he responded, a smile sounding on his lips. “Morning.”
God, his voice was perfect- a rough, deep baritone thanks to hours of sleep. It had you turning your head towards him, pressing your lips to his hairline. You couldn’t see his face, but the stretch of stubble across your throat told you he’d smiled even more.
Several minutes went by in companionable silence, neither of you wanting to pull away. His fingers brushed lazily against your waist and yours didn’t stop thumbing through his hair.
You wondered after a while if he’d fallen back asleep before he mumbled a question. “What time is it?”
Peering over his head, you squinted at the small digital clock that sat on the tiny built-in desk.
“8:58.”
A pause.
Then panic.
Ryland shot upwards, unsticking himself from your body and scrambling out of the bed in a flurry of limbs and movement.
“Shhhhhiitake mushrooms!”
You watched from the bed, lightly amused as you watched him stumble around the cramped space in a frantic search for clothing. Lord above, he looked just as good from the back as he did the front.
“Something wrong?”
“I was supposed to go with Stratt to a crew meeting an hour ago.” He threw his legs into a pair of boxer briefs (which you were pretty certain were on backwards but he didn’t seem to notice or care), followed by a pair of jeans. “Kinda surprised she hasn’t barged in here already to get me up, actually i’m. She’s done it before.”
You just hummed, watching him slug a blue button up across his shoulders and struggle with the buttons. He threw a glare at you that had no fire behind it. “Will you show at least a little sympathy? She could probably throw me into the ship’s jail for this.” He missed a button at the top of his shirt, which meant the whole shirt was now fastened lopsided. He didn’t seem to notice that either.
“I’m not going to complain that we got an extra hour or two of sleep together.”
His cheeks bloomed. There’s that shyness. He didn’t fight your statement, instead busying himself with tugging a beanie over his bedhead. When he sat on the mattress next to you to start putting socks and shoes on, he searched the room with squinted eyes.
“Do y’know where my-“
You held out his glasses. At some point last night, you’d relieved him of the spectacles for his own comfort (and so you could kiss him as senseless as you wanted to) and carefully placed them under the bed where they’d be safe from being squished.
“Thank you.”
Looking a little less than put together, he started collecting the notepads and folders stuffed with papers on the small desk, gathering everything into his arms.
“Uh- well, we missed breakfast so how about we meet up for lunch? Or dinner? Or breakfast tomorrow? Or we don’t have to do anything together at all if you don’t want to. Totally your call, really.” He kept his gaze down at the papers, avoiding your gaze. You smiled.
“Well, I start my shift in an hour and can’t leave the medical wing until I’m relieved.”
His shoulders dropped a little.
“But… there’s no rules against having visitors.”
Ryland looked at you over the rims of his glasses, starting to smile himself. “Yeah? Ok! Yeah, I’ll- Do you have a preference for lunch? I’ll bring you something. Or I can get you a little bit of everything from the cafeteria? Do they allow that?”
You sat up with a laugh, holding the thin bedsheets against your chest to keep the last little bit of warmth from him against you. “I’ll get the same thing you’re having. I’m not picky.”
The doctor nodded to himself, shuffling toward the door with large strides. Twisting the handle, the door opened barely an inch before he doubled back like he forgot something. You expected him to search for something else he needed, not expecting him to rush over and press a fast kiss to your lips. It was your turn to blush.
“Right! Ok, I’ll get us something good. See you in a little bit! And lock the door on your way out, will you? Thanks!”
With his goodbye, he rushed out of the room, gently shut the door and began racing away. You heard his pounding footsteps reverberate the walls as he ran down the hall.
His room was too quiet now that he was gone, only the sounds of the ship keeping you company.
It took you several minutes to shake out of your star-struck stupor.
When the blonde showed up in your quiet office in the medical wing at 12pm sharp, precariously balancing two to-go boxes stuffed full with cafeteria food and harboring a broad smile, you quickly realized how much Doctor Ryland Grace already had you wrapped around his finger.
a/n: ryland grace: the people’s pillow princess. thank you for reading!
cw: I think it's pretty clear what's under the cut, so proceed as you will, 18+ content
a/n: I've never done a nsfw alphabet but this seemed fun. feel free to send requests for nsfw alphabets.
A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)
Jenson may be a slut, but he's a needy slut that's for sure. Once you're done he's desperate to be touching you in any way, as long as your skin is touching his skin he's content. He'll run you a bath and get in with you or just clean you up and cuddle you to sleep.
B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)
On himself he loves his arm and chest, it's clear he's an athlete and works out and he likes the way he looks, nothing wrong with that.
Ass man, boob man ... Jenson is a thighs man! He loves your thighs, especially if they're bigger. He'll grip them to the point where there will be visible bruises the next morning. He loves leaving hickeys and small bites there as well and especially loves holding onto your thighs as you ride him.
C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)
He loves it no matter where it ends up. On your tits, your face, your stomach, your ass, over your pussy. But his favorite place has got to be inside. Something about watching his cum leaking from you really lights a spark inside of him.
D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)
Once you gave him a spicy polaroid picture, and now he keeps it in his wallet. When he's traveling and you can't join he definitely takes it out and uses it.
E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)
This goes without saying that he's experienced. Jenson's been around, that's for sure, but at the end of the day it all makes him a more skilled lover for you.
F= Favorite position
Doggy -> he likes to see your back arch and your ass shake as he pounds into you, sometimes he'll give your ass a smack, other time's he'll reach around you and grope your tits.
Cowgirl -> he likes to see you on top, especially when he can prop himself up and take one of your nipples into his mouth. don't be fooled tho, he will plant his feet down and fuck up into you like there's no tomorrow.
Missionary -> oldie but a goodie, sometimes he really needs some intimate eye to eye loving and you're happy to oblige.
G= Goofy (how serious are they)
It all depends on the mood. Sometimes he's cracking a few jokes along the way and other times the only thing coming from his mouth is unfiltered dirty dirty talk.
H= Hair (grooming habits)
He keeps it trimmed pretty close but doesn't completely shave it off as the feeling of it growing back gets uncomfortable for him. He doesn't really care about what you do as long as you're comfortable, he's not afraid to go exploring.
I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)
Back when he was racing it was often fast paced and rough. While there's still times that it is, now that he's retired it's slower and more romantic.
J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)
When you can't join him for travel he'll face time you or use one of your dirty photos and jack off. At home he doesn't really do it since he has you. Is down for mutual masturbation.
K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)
Little kinky slut, if I'm being honest. But mainly: exhibitionism, size kink, overstimulation.
Also really enjoys having sex in front of a mirror and occasionally making a home made sex tape.
L= Location (where they like to get it on)
He's open to doing it pretty much anywhere but at the end of the day he prefers his bedroom because he can really take his time and take you apart properly.
M= Motivation (what gets them going)
Pretty much anything, he's always ready to go. If you're in the mood, he's in the mood.
N= No (something they won't do)
He doesn't want to do anything that will seriously hurt you. Indulging in some light BDSM is fine, but any actual pain and he's stopping immediately.
O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)
As much as he loves the feel of your lips wrapped around his dick, he absolutely adores eating you out. Could spend the whole day between your legs and it would be a day well spent. He's pretty skilled with his tongue and will have you cumming multiple times.
P= Pace (do they prefer it slow or fast)
Really depends on the mood. Sometimes it can be hard and fast fucking and other times it's passionate love making.
Q= Quickie (do they prefer quickies or taking their time)
While he does prefer to take his time and make you fall apart under him multiple times, sometimes there's not enough times and there come in the quickies.
He's down for quickies, and will absolutely make you cum no matter how little time the two of you have. He'll do it pretty much anywhere, from his driver's room to the public bathroom of a restaurant or a club.
R= Risk (do they like to try new things)
He's down for new things and would try anything once before writing it off. And he's a bit of an exhibitionist so definitely up for doing it in risky places.
S= Stamina (how many times they can go)
He's an athlete and has pretty great stamina so safe to say he can go for multiple rounds with little to no breaks. He'll have you cumming at least twice every time as well.
T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)
Full box of toys under your bed, from vibrators to inhumanly shaped dildos and anal beads, there's everything in there. Watched 50 Shades and wanted to ass a red room to your house but you told him no.
U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)
He loves teasing you, anywhere and anytime. On a formal dinner, he'll slip his hand underneath your dress under the table. In the car, in the bedroom, really anywhere.
He's okay with you teasing him as well but gets frustrated pretty easily and will bend you over the nearest surface.
V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)
As soon as his mouth is open it's full on dirty talk. He'll say the nastiest things possible, with few grunts, gasps and swear words in between. Sometimes when you're on top and going extra slow or teasing him he'll whine, but it's not often.
W= Wild card (random headcannon of any sort)
He bent you over his race car and fucked you like an animal in heat after he won the championship. Still thinks about it sometimes.
X= X-ray (what’s down below in those pants)
A bit over 7 inches and he knows how to use it well. His dick is pretty, with a pink tip and a vein running along the underside.
Y= Yearning (sex drive)
Man is a proper whore. He's horny 24/7, as soon as you even give him a suggestive look he's ready to drop his pants and get going.
Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)
If he's has a really rough day he'll fall asleep earlier than usual, but in general he liked laying with you and waiting for you to fall asleep first.
♪ — 𝗣𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦
rbr! sebastian vetteln x girlfriend! reader ( fluff )
fic summary , your boyfriend's been whining the whole drive, so you shut him up by revealing that you speak his language at a drive through (0.7K)
( my masterlist | more of sebastian vettel ) ( requests )
You swear he’s been whining for the last twenty minutes.
Not in a bratty way—more like a low-level grumbling every few minutes that makes you glance over with a smirk and a raised brow. And every time, Sebastian just meets your eyes with a pointedly dramatic sigh, arms crossed over his chest like a sulky prince.
"My stomach is protesting," he finally declares with the kind of conviction usually reserved for post-race interviews.
You snort. "That dramatic and I haven't even driven you through Monaco yet."
You're behind the wheel of your rental, cruising through the German countryside with him riding shotgun. Yes, shotgun. As in, passenger seat. You relish that fact deeply.
"You're not even going fast," he mutters, eyes flicking to the speedometer, then to your hands on the wheel.
"Maybe because I value safety, Herr Vettel. Unlike someone who treats apexes like they're suggestions."
He huffs, but you can see the faint curve of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
You glance over at him. “You know what you are?”
“What?”
“My passenger princess.”
That gets you a flat look. “Was?” [what]
“Oh, don’t act offended. You’ve got the seat pushed all the way back, feet up on the dash, and you’ve been complaining like we’re on a cross-country trek. That’s passenger princess behaviour, Sebastian.”
“I am a Formula One World Champion,” he says, deadpan. “Not your handbag.”
You tap your fingers on the steering wheel, grinning. “You’re right. You’re the handbag and the emotional support water bottle.”
“I need a new driver.”
“You’d never leave me,” you sing-song, just as you pull into a fast food drive-through.
Seb perks up instantly. “Finally! Real food!”
“Didn’t realise you were about to pass out from hunger, Vettel,” you tease, rolling down your window.
“I might faint. Then you’d have to call Christian and tell him his golden boy got taken out by a lack of fries.”
"Hallo! Einmal das große Menü mit einem Cheeseburger, Pommes und einer Cola, bitte. Und dazu noch sechs Chicken Nuggets mit Barbecuesoße. Danke!" [hi. one large meal with a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke, please. and also six chicken nuggets with barbecue sauce. thank you]
There’s a pause.
You can feel the way Sebastian turns his whole head to look at you.
Like . . . slowly. Incredulously.
You shoot him a side glance, pretending not to notice the way he’s blinking at you like you just started levitating. On the other end of the speaker, the employee responds naturally in German, confirming the order and cheerfully offering options. You handle it smoothly, answering back with ease, not even stumbling on the regional phrasing.
When you finally roll the window up and move forward, Sebastian is still staring.
“You speak German?” he asks, voice almost boyish with disbelief.
You nod. “I live in Europe, Seb. And I’m not just here for your cheekbones and championship points.”
“I just— I didn’t expect it,” he says, shaking his head. “You never said.”
“You never asked.”
“I just assumed you’d order in English and we’d get the usual tourist treatment.”
You turn to face him fully at the next stop in the line, eyebrow arched. “You’re telling me you’re more surprised by me speaking German than by you being the passenger in a car?”
“Yes!”
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “God, that’s such a Vettel thing to say.”
He’s still looking at you like he’s a little starstruck, expression soft and oddly fond.
“And your accent is good,” he adds, almost bashfully.
“Well, thanks,” you say, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You know, if you’re lucky, I might serenade you with Schlager next time.”
“Bitte nicht,” he groans dramatically, slumping back in the seat with a smile stretching wide across his face. “But I admit… it's kind of hot.”
You snort. “The language?”
“No, you,” he says without hesitation, in German this time. “Du bist sehr heiß, weißt du das?” [you’re very hot you know that]
You raise a brow, grinning. “Na klar,” [sure of course] you reply smoothly. “Aber sag’s ruhig nochmal, ich hör’s gern, Meine Passagierprinzessin.” [but say it again, i like hearing it, my passenger princess]
Sebastian just sits there, stunned for the second time today.
Then he laughs—this delighted, slightly flustered sound—and leans over to press a kiss to your cheek.
Podiums, that pole at Imola... BAR is doing great and Jenson is on fire. This year there is a new maturity in Button and, as Schumi has already seen, nothing will make him slow down.
(warning : discussion of vanijeanne if you dislike this ship don't read)
Vanijeanne is that sort of ship you know is a real media literarcy test for people
And to clarify
I don't mean "people who dislike it because of how it's a toxic realtionship" that is perfectly valid
I mean the people who say stuff such as "it completely ruined Jeanne's character, she used to be cool and badass and now she is all blushy mushy" or "Jeanne is a girlboss she doesn't need a love interest especially one that cheapens her character to "cute uwu blushing waifu" or "vanijeanne is just shoujo trash and it ruins Jeanne's writing from a cool woman to just a "love interest", in short mainly critics of how it affected Jeanne's character and how she went from a "cool girlboss" to "cute uwu anime girl"
I am going to be harsh but someone needs to say it : Jeanne was never a "cool badass girlboss" and if you still think she is, I beg you to re-read the manga with close attention with the Gévaudan arc in mind
Jeanne as she appears at the begining of the story is a traumatized broken girl who bears a mask because she is told to by people
I think the Gévaudan arc made it very clear that Jeanne used to be closer to how she came to evolve then she ever was in chapter 1, look at little Jeanne
She was an energetic, lively kid honest with her emotions. To those who read PH, you might remember how Oz expressed admirations to the sincerity with which Alice expressed her emotions because he himself is unable to be as sincere with himself
Jeanne used to be Alice. She used to express herself with authenticity and you might be thinking it's to be expected, she is a kid, but she radicaly changes after her parents died executed in front of her very eyes
Her whole life is completely shaken by this whole event, this doesn't just mark the begining of a traumatic new life with a haunting traumatic memory but a life of objectification
The main chapter exploring what happened to Jeanne after her parents died and she is about to become a bourreau is called "POUPEE FISUREE - the essence of the witch", it literaly means "the essence of the witch is broken/cracked doll".
There are thousands of explanation you can theorize about what is Jeanne's exact nature but one thing is for sure is that she existed for the sole purpose of being used as a tool, she is objectified down to her very core
The dialogue is explicit enough but the fact the first "You are a doll" is a black speech bubble conveys the tone of the scene, you don't even see Jeanne's face, only elements meant to convey the fragementary aspect of this memory
It all began long before Jeanne was found and adopted by her parents, how exactly it happened isn't the point here, rather it's because she was with them she could live as an average child when she was not meant to
The transition between how Jeanne used to be and how she is after her parents are killed is brutal but here is the interesting bit, the parallel between this page and the following
"You are a bourreau, a tool" is presented in the exact same manner as "You are a doll"
Jeanne's reminiscene upon hearing this is enough to understand that "you are a bourreau" = "you are a doll" = because "you are a tool"
Jeanne immediately prooceeds to believe that what happened was a punishement because she did the contrary of "what she was told"
If what she was told was "don't think, don't want, don't wish" it's easy to understand that back then, when she used to be a all happy child she did think, want, wish and the fact that she expresses herself with sincerity was meant to reflect that, she didn't felt the pressure of her fate yet but now that her parents are dead and because she believes its a punishement for her disobeying, she now has a pressure put unto her shoulder to accept being objectified
The bottom of the page specfically, with a dead looking Jeanne, the text, and the image of bodies piles is enough to understand that Jeanne's lack of expression comes from the fact that she is broken, that she musn't disobey this time and that she embraced her condition as a tool and the meeting with Chloé is essential to understand the extent of her condition
When Chloé faces Jeanne, this is how the scene looks like from Chloé's pov
There is a clear contrast between Chloé's memories of Jeanne and the Jeanne that stand before her, it's not just a matter of growing up, the change of expression from an innocent smile to a bloody expression, the light colors used in the flashbacks vs the reality where Jeanne is cloacked in black, the use of screentoones making the scene shine vs the other scene being darken by screentones
From Chloé's pov, it's like the Jeanne of the past is gone and got replaced by someone completely different, even thought the similar hairstyle proves otherwise
As for Jeanne, from her pov the scene plays like this
She is conflicted between her new nature as a bourreau and her frienship for Chloé, she don't want to kill her but "she can't want anything", she doesn't have the right to, and while from Jeanne's pov this is just a flux of contradictory thoughts
This is HOW her internal conflict looks like to an outsider
Even though we thought the old Jeanne gone, she is still there, she is simply supressing herself due to the trauma, her survivor guilt enticing her to repress herself, her emotions, her true despire but she can't
This is one of the time where she let the mask slips, she can't go on, even if Chloé encourages her, she can't bring herself to kill someone she'd much rather protect than go on, she is completely tore apart between her feelings and her new condition that forbids it, this is specfically why Chloé let herself fall from the cliff, to spare Jeanne from having to live with the pain of having to kill her, but that was still too much for Jeanne
I hope I don't need to point out how deshumanizing of bourreau the way these vampires talk is, the words they use in regards to Jeanne just kin her to a doll, if you gave this page out of context to someone who doesn't know any better about VNC, it's likely they'll think the characters are talking about a literal doll ! She stopped "being useful", they want to "throw her away" because "she broke", this is like a kid talking about getting bored of his toys !
Jeanne's hair is very imporant to understand the difference between past and present jeanne in a visual language, her long hair showcases which Jeanne is talking but that's how Jeanne feels inside, much like how little domi is how presetn Domi felt inside
She has been used way too much as slaughtering doll to view any solution to the problem as other than killing, she has been told naught but that and the situation in Gevaudan is making all of it resurface
So knowing that Jeanne when we first meet her in vol 1 is a girl that has been objectificed all the rest of her life (not even mentionning that Jeanne is like.... centuries old), had to deal with survivor guilt over her parent's death, unability to do anything when facing Chloé and that now, apointed as a chevalier she is having constant anxiety over her condition as a curse bearer and constant fear to harm Lucas because she had to face losing all the people that mattered to her
Are you still going to call Jeanne a "girlboss" ? Are you still going to insist the story used to present her as a "strong female badass, cool and emotioneless" ???
It might come off that way when you read the story for the first time when no one knew anything more about Jeanne, but in retrospective it is obvious that in reality it was just a mask that Jeanne bore because of her being told she is just an object !
"she is the hellfire witch she is meant to be strong she doesn't need a man !" I hear, and I have to remind that Jeanne NEVER CLAIMED this title for herself, it was IMPOSED on her by people, this contributing to her objectification, not a way to sound cool. Jeanne would much rather be something else than the Hell fire witch and this is part of the reason why her relationship with Lucas is important, it gives her something to protect when she was a mindless killing doll after she had lost the people that mattered to her. Lucas himself state that jeanne doesn't need to kill anymore because even he can sense she doesn't enjoy her role as the "hellfire witch", all it entails and Jeanne's continuing on insiting to kill even almost to a reflex level reflect the extent to which she has been objectified to the point she just can't see another way
In these early chapters, she isn't strong, she is simply bearing a facade, a mask. A motif re-used later in the ball masque arc to indicate all characters hide their truth self behind a mask. So you'll excuse me for thinking that there is NO ground to call someone putting a facade due to her contasnt objectification at the ends of powerful vampires exploiting her survival guilt a "girlboss"
And no, her falling for Vanitas does not make her weak !
In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if the real reason why Sensei had Vanitas approach her in such a disturbing way was to make him come off as also objectifying her to better reverse this idea rather than "making a shoujotrash plot point" (do I need to point the misogynistic implications of calling this "shoujotrash" or)
By this point in the story we know nothing of Jeanne and Lucas doesn't seem to be using her, he cares about her, so when Vanitas forces a kiss on Jeanne because he got "zoku zoku" over witnessing Jeanne letting the mask slips for the first time when she believes Lucs is in danger, we are compelled to think that Vanitas is a jerk because he is being a creep to a woman without thinking upon whether or not other people did worse to Jeanne
But as the story progresses it becomes increasingly obvious Vanitas was not the only one nor the first person to do things without any consideration of Jeanne's personal feelings, in fact it's the opposite !! It's specifically because few people treat Jeanne right that she is so easily swayed away by any act of kindness !!
This is portrayed comically because we are from Domi's pov who has no real idea of what Jeanne had to go through (as seen per pondering on who in Jeanne's family committed a crime)
But the point is that Jeanne's weakness to kindness stems from 1) she is being hated and feared as the "Hellfire witch", another form of objectifcation 2) she has been reduced to a tool and goes along with it because of her survivor guilt 3) Jeanne is someone who is deeply kind hearted and caring, a "maiden at heart" and this isn't here just for gap moe's sake, it's there to show the extent of her situation
It is absolutely twisted that someone who is fundamentally innocent and naive about many things shows a face that compleltey contradicts these notions for the only reason being "she has to bear a mask, she has to force herself into not wanting anything"
Because she internalized the orders given to her to her core, she is not used to receive any act of kindness nor to enjoy herself or just live like a normal person, she doesn't have the right to according to her superiors
That's not even mentioning she doesn't have a lot of people around her and isn't used to healy relationship
We all already know she lost her parents and her frienship with Chloé ended tragically to the point it haunts her still, but who else is in contact with ?
Ruthven : he is her teacher and he spared her a dreadful fate but it's very obvious Ruthven keeps a lot of secret from her, he made her swore an oath and shee cannot even talk about her condition due to it
I think the way she pictures Ruthven in this scene says enough about their relationship not being the epitome of healthiness. Ruthven's feelings regarding Jeanne are very complicated no doubt, but this is still an unhealthy relationship where Ruthven has control over her in ways Jeanne herself doesn't necessarily realizes
Luca : while Luca treasures her (and has a puppy crush on her) and Jeanne wants to protect him at all costs, Jeanne is also haunted by the fear she might hurt him
Dominique :
She originally approached Jeanne to tease Noé and immediately starts to feel guilty upon realizing Jeanne is a "good girl" because of Jeanne telling her... basics facts. Like, you have to understand that this scene right here just confirms that Jeanne doesn't have many friends and that she even worry about people getting close to her either 1) because they might be in danger if she doesn't behave 2) because she might be a danger to them 3) because her bad reputation and status as a tool can put them in a pitch
I don't have the domijeanne mini comic, but Jeanne is aslo swayed by Domi's acting kind towards her and that's how they befriend but you have to keep in mind that Domi wasn't in the best place mentally either when she approached Jeanne
Ultimately while not "toxic" Jeanne can't exactly confide in fully because 1) She views Luca as someone she has to protect so they cannot be equals 2) Domi views Jeanne as a reflection of her weak self, thus as someone needing to be protected thus they cannot be equals
This doesn't exist with Vanitas, he can be approached as an equal. Yes, you heard that right. Yes, Vanitas approached her in the creppiest way possible and should have been put in a jail a second time, yes Vanitas was being terrible to her many times, yes be blacmailed her, yes there are endless jokes about how jeanne just dances in the plams of his hands and yes their relationship isn't by any stretch of the imagination a heathly relationship
That's the point and Jun sensei's owns it
Vanitas clearly approached her in such manner because he was still thinking about how much he isn't worthy of love and he can safely love Jeanne because with how he treats her, he can be sure she will never reciprocate any feelings he can have towards her
And because he approached her that way, Jeanne can more easily let the original fear she expresses (for example when Domi invites her to dancing) aside, this is how he progressively becomes someone Jeanne can relies on and thus, despite it looking like there is a power imbalance in favor of Vanitas, he is in reality able to be on equal terms
Most if not all of the Vanijeanne moment in the manga serves to flesh out Jeanne as a character which might be why detractors of the ship refuses to look past what it actually says about Jeanne's character in favor of a narrative where the "cool badass girlboss" has been ruined by the tiny rat doctor
However, they allow us to see past the "hellfire witch" facade and approach little by little to Jeanne's real core, but because she is still fundamentally conflicted and torn appart by her condition, she isn't able to reveal herself fully, not to mention she is still warry of vanitas but because she is wary of Vanitas she can talk to him without feeling inferior or unworthy of it
Vanitas quickly becomes the one person she relies on the most, not just for blood and yes this is very likely what Vani truly meant when he told her to drink only his blood, especially given how the second condition is "call me by name. Even if he purposefully acts unlikeable, Vanitas is still Vanitas, he sensed Jeanne needed help and he investigates it, Vanitas deep down is someone who is kind and selfless after all, even if he would rather cut his tongue than admit it
Vanitas doesn't really take off his mask in front of her unlike how he does with Noé because Noé constantly confronts Vanitas, Jeanne is very passive in contrast, the one time she begins to see through the cracks is during the cabin scene where her getting angry isn't amusing Vanitas (because he likes to see her emote instead of her putting the poker face) because she is trying to make him think of his own safety for once, you know ? Self care, the thing Vanitas hate because he hate himself so much he think himself underserving of love
That is ultimately why Jeanne ends up falling for him
Vanitas is the first person ever to tell her she has the right to want things, that she is more than a doll, to explicetely tell her to her face she can wish for something
Even if Luca and others treat Jeanne kindly, they didn't necessarily told her outright "you can desire things" and yes, this is largely because Noé's influence on him is showing but given how the previous intereactions with Jeanne didn't got him to blame Noé for him saying certains things and making certains promises, it's fair to assume that prior to these, the moment where he was being considerate where just... Vanitas being Vanitas. He might have kept his mask on, he is still like this
Ultimately Vanitas keep his promise and that's what enable Jeanne to move on from her internal conflict : because now, she has seen one of the people she cares about being saved. It didn't ended like her parents, it didn't ended like it used to in Gévaudan and it doesn't implicate any of the fears she has towards Luca (largely fed by these two bad ending to her past relationships), her friend is safe and she just let her happiness explode with no restrictions
By helping Chloé, Vanitas also helped Jeanne finally come to term with one of the biggest issue she had so far : think of herself as someone who has the right to live (you know, like Chloé)
This is what finally allows Jeanne to reconnect with how she used to be in the past and deliver a big bright unrestricted smile with later on appearances confirming that Jeannes expresses herself more sincerely and without any complex, Domi commenting on her shinning or her contribution to the Attraction park arc
Falling in love with vanitas didn't made her weak, it did the opposite : it helped her finally break free from a doll of the senate, to be herself again
Jeanne never wanted to be a "cool girlboos badass" and when she appears as the Hellfire witch, it's not what she was, she was a girl whose innocence was broken, who was objectified and taken advatange of for her survivor guilt and forced herself unto a mask, to stop thinking, wanting, desiring, living in short, a simple killing machine
She fell in love with vanitas not just because he was kind to her but because he helped her overcome a situation that could have easily put her in her past situation again, making her go through the same internal conflict as she did, because he told her she has the right to live as an individual and not a tool
And that's what allows her to finally overcome this, to finally be able to be true to herself
How exactly is any of this weak ?
Since when strong is when no emotions, cool, etc ??? You know what that is ? It's just pushing toxic masculinity standards unto women, which is what has been happening in the whole subgenre of the "girlboss" protagonist making these characters unsufferable
You don't have to like Vanijeanne, you have the right to dislike it because it's not a healthy couple, because it makes you uncomfortable, because you prefer others ships heck if you think that's so bad it prevents you from enjoying moments in VNC that is fine
but don't call a victim of severe objectification forced to hide her feelings because of her survivor guilt a "strong cool badass girlboss", dont use her name of Hellfire witch like it's something she claims and is proud of when it's been put on her by people as another mean of objectification and don't call her finally recovering from it "weak" or "cute uwu blushing anime waifu shoujo trash slop" or any of the nonsense I have seen
It's one thing to dislike a ship, it's another to completely miss the point of what Sensei is trying to accomplish in the first place
For those who don't know: Ikumi Nakamura is the woman who was senior artist on Bayonetta, and designed the titular character along with Hideki Kamiya. Their greatest moment of bonding was over their insistence that Bayonetta keep her glasses on at all times.
Nakamura cannot go to horny jail. She is the warden.
It is deeply fascinating to me that Ichigo decided to raise Kazui aware of his heritage, so much so that even at such a young age, Kazui can say "well, I'm kinda a shinigami too!" and even have his own zanpakutou, when Ichigo himself was raised completely oblivious of his own hybrid status, his entire heritage, and that he was part Hollow, despite Isshin knowing from the start that Masaki's hypothetical future child would inherit her Hollow side.
Ichigo always presents as very understanding of Isshin's whole charade, and I believe he is, because he's an extremely empathetic character, but he still chose to make the opposite choice when it came to Kazui. Ichigo doesn't resent his parents, but just from that, it's clear that as an adult, Ichigo also maybe feels that they made a mistake raising him as an oblivious "human", and doesn't want to repeat it.
After all, how much easier would everything been if he'd had the context to understand his own powers, his own soul, from the start? How much less scary his Hollow awakening would be? How much smoother his growth would have been if he wasn't unconsciously hampering himself by adhering to rules and principles and trainings that didn't actually apply to him at all?
Again, Ichigo doesn't resent the way he was trained or the secrets that were kept from him, but I love how he clearly thought "why should my son have to go through the same thing?"
But at the same time, the results of going the opposite route are so far rather...unnerving. Will his choice to not raise Kazui as a human turn out to be a good thing in the end?
he’s known for being a bit reserved but still very kind and thoughtful.
he would love small, intimate dates, like grabbing coffee at a local café or going for long walks, enjoying each other’s company without the pressure of a flashy date
he was shy AT FIRST
but he’s romantic at heart
you’d get sweet surprises like flowers, handwritten notes, and even songs written for you
he would also probably be very attentive to your needs, always making sure you feel valued.
nuno would be the kind of partner who supports you no matter what you’re passionate about.
if you have a dream or goal, he would be your number one cheerleader.
he’d help you build confidence in yourself, especially if you’re pursuing your own creative endeavors.
so fucking nuturing it hurts
nuno has an absurd number of bandanas, and he insists on showing them off like they’re prized possessions.
you’ll find him wearing a different one every day, and whenever you go anywhere, he’ll make sure to ask if you think it "matches the vibe."
he takes his bandana game way too seriously.
when a song he loves comes on, he gets super excited and starts dancing…
but it’s honestly hilarious.
he’s got zero rhythm and is always tripping over his own feet.
he’ll tell you,
hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,
but you’ll be trying not to laugh while watching his awkward dance moves.
that was an intentional move. a new form of dance i’m calling ‘the wobble of destiny.’ it’s going to catch on, just wait
i’m not bad at dancing. i’m just advanced. you’re not supposed to get it yet. you’ll understand it when the world catches up with me.
due to him being really fucking charming
he doesn't always realize when he’s flirting.
he’ll casually compliment your friends and totally not mean anything by it.
but, of course, you’re over there dying inside while they blush, and he’s completely oblivious to the awkward tension he’s creating.
whenever he’s on the phone with someone, nuno will randomly adopt his best "rockstar" voice, even if it’s just to talk to your parents or a delivery guy.
he’ll dramatically answer calls like, “you’ve reached the one and only nuno bettencourt!” and immediately dial it back when they don’t react as expected.
easily distracted by shiny things…
you could be having a serious conversation, and suddenly, nuno will stop mid-sentence and stare intently at something shiny or bright—whether it’s a reflection on the car window or a cool guitar pick.
he’ll interrupt the moment with something like, “whoa, that’s cool,” and then totally forget what you were talking about. he’s like a child in a candy store with anything that sparkles.
ooh, shiny! is it just me, or does that sparkle like it’s begging to be noticed? it’s like... a cosmic message. don’t you feel it too?
pet names are odd…
like very
he loves to come up with “cute” pet names, but he forgets them constantly.
one day, you’ll be “pumpkin” and the next day, “peanut butter.” the best part is, he’ll say it with absolute conviction, as if it’s totally logical. eventually, you’ll just let him call you whatever ridiculous name comes to his mind.
