#i PROMISE i do not see mother characters as Only Mothers i SWEAR
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spiritsglade · 3 days ago
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for the character ask game i would loooove to hear you go off about essence :))
[character ask game!!]
oh birdie you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent this in didn't you.
My first impression
I think I probably ran into her first in fic but I don't actually remember anything in that regard. First impression with the comic was that this was a character with a pretty design but somewhat... confusing of a storyline.
My impression now
God her canon portrayal is so annoying and inconsistent I SWEAR. Jason and her misunderstanding and misinterpretating what's going on and immediately jumping to kill each other has happened EVERY TIME and what is the point!!! Her backstory and motivations are so opaque and the flashbacks to their time together in the All-Caste keep on dangling the promise of an interesting story in front of me and then not delivering. Lobdell and Tynion IV when I GET YOU--
However I've thought about her too much and now I have brainworms. She is the side character I have adopted as my own. I understand her better than her creators ever will <3 (I have extrapolated a lot of conclusions from like 3 panels out of all her appearances. It is working out for me.)
Favorite thing about that character
The concept for her character. Particularly as a daughter to Ducra and one of the original Untitled. The fact she's been banished from the All-Caste apparently for not being willing to give up her "dark powers" when Ducra did? That's so interesting to me. It could be such a good parallel to how Jason's moral code causes a rift between him and Bruce. Tell me more. Lobdell you will surely explore this further, won't you? Lobdell aren't you gonna-- LOBDELL
Least favorite thing
Can I complain about Lobdell again. I will not. Instead I will complain about how her little like... intro narration box? You know the thing where comics will give you a little line to tell you who a character is if you don't know them already. Hers is that she's the "last human descendant of the All-Caste" which is just WRONG? She is the DAUGHTER OF THE UNTITLED. She is like, objectively not human at this point. JASON is the last human descendant of the All-Caste, maybe. Y'know, the first human they've taken in in over a century and the first in millennia to survive a cleansing? Y'know, that guy?? Also she literally reinstated the All-Caste at this point in the timeline why are we calling her the last human descendant. She's literally they're leader right now. I'm so mad I'm so mad I'msofmkgekmreklgm
Also I really don't like that her Blood Blades draw only the blood of the guilty or whatever like it does to Artemis in RH:O #45. Or the whole capturing souls thing in #35. I hate it I hate it I hate it girl please go back to fighting people with your smoke magic.
Favorite line/scene
I overall think the scene in RH:O #35 was bad but I do particularly like her lines here.
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I have never wanted to lead the All-Caste... I am a soldier. Heart and soul.
Oh girl. Girl you are never escaping the legacy of your mother. Ignore the fact that Ducra is literally still alive even though we established that she died in the first issue and her ghost vanished back in RHatO v1 #27 I'm not mad.
Favorite interaction that character has with another
Her fight with Kori in RHatO v1 #22
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I think using Tamaranean tech like this is very clever!! Essence is immortal, ancient, and very powerful, but alien tech was also a weakness for her back in Issue #7 and I think that's a nice touch.
Also the fact that Kori literally summoned her to try to talk and help Jason and they end up trying to kill each other for several pages is so funny to me. Like. In the next volume Essence also fights Artemis and possesses Isabel like... girl are you jealous that he's seeing other women? Is that what this is?
I think the thing with the amnesia arc where all of Jason's friends were trying to help him from different angles and with incomplete information and in the process fucked over each other's attempts forever could have been really interesting if written well.
Close runner-up:
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Right before this Essence says:
We need to talk, Mother. About the great darkness that looms over all that lives. About a mistake you must at long last rectify.
It's giving the "I think we're gonna have to kill that guy" meme to me. And that was entertaining. These are the depths I need to sink to find hope.
A character that I wish that character would interact with more
ISABEL ARDILA. Genuinely fucking impressive that Lobdell managed to write them literally sharing the same body and have them not interact at all. I don't even know how he did it. He deserves an award. How does Isabel feel about this arrangement? How does Essence feel?? Like Issy you chose on purpose to pick up the sword again and keep letting Essence use your body in RH:O #49. Let's talk about that--no we're not going to? We have to move on and do Duela's arc and Red Hood: The Hill now? Oh. Oh okay. That's fine then.
Anyway I think they could turn the bodysharing into a beautiful symbiotic relationship if they tried. Essence/Isabel as a ship is slept on I swear.
Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character
Jerboa III/Boa from Wings of Fire. Her mother (Jerboa I) was an animus (basically a dragon that can do whatever magic except raise the dead) who created her and then basically kept editing her personality and existence for like 2,000 years so she could have the ideal daughter. Obviously this is very fucked up. Eventually Boa catches onto this, betrays Jerboa I and kills her, but not before Jerboa I curses her. We don't talk about what happened to Jerboa II. (We know that she "went wrong" and Jerboa I "disposed of" her.)
Do you see the vision. Ducra implanting "pure life" in Essence's body. Banishing her when Essence railed against what Ducra wanted for her. Essence's entire life being dedicated to this fight against the Untitled. Like we are very much getting into headcanon territory with Essence when I make this connection but Boa manages to escape her mother and also the entire fucked up legacy of animus magic and I think that is lovely for her. Manifesting that for Essence.
She's also Hornet from Hollow Knight just a little bit. To me.
A headcanon about that character
She is more headcanon than actual canon substance to me at this point. Um. She has mommy issues re: Ducra. Her banishment from the All-Caste was because Essence refused to purge the "dark magic" (The essence of the Well of Sins she carried in her, the bond that tied her to the other Untitled that Ducra had long cleansed from herself.) They'd been having disagreements since the beginning of time that just happened to be what finally made it boil over. I'm still a little vague on this but I think Ducra setting up the All-Caste and the truce with the Untitled had some long term negative consequences for the world (like how in RHatO #5 the Untitled in Middleton, Colorado had the townspeople under its thrall). Essence doesn't want to spend the rest of eternity waiting for the day the Untitled inevitably decide to take over the world, but Ducra is all 'this is your duty' about it. Also remember that the Untitled are Ducra's siblings and Essence's aunts/uncles.
Anyway Jason's admittance into the All-Caste was the trigger for Essence acting out against Ducra properly for the first time. Him being this fresh new perspective so hellbent on vengeance really helped her realize that she wanted more from her life than to be another soldier in Ducra's war against her siblings.
Do you see the parallels I'm shoving in here between her and Jason. I am just saying.
A song that reminds of that character
Alas I must expose myself as a non-music listener. I'm sorry. Random Gods from the Rain World soundtrack that's the best I can do.
An unpopular opinion about that character
Honestly I don't think anyone cares about her enough for there to be popular opinions but uhh. I think this panel is incorrect about her and Jason's relationship.
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Boy and girl are always there for each other.
Are they? Are they??? God I wish they were. Goddammit.
Anyway. I think Essence building the All-Caste was actually the most boring fucking direction to take her character but I can't even be that mad because she was barely a coherent character to begin with. However, her recruiting for the All-Caste... where the fuck is she gonna get these recruits for this secret old as time warrior monk sect?? Why exist at all when all the Untitled are allegedly wiped out (i.e. the entire reason the All-Caste existed in the first place)?? Escape from the shadow of your family's legacy come onnn Essence you can do it I believe in you!!! AUGH.
Favorite picture
Shoutout to RH:O #35 for having some really pretty panels of her.
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ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOLKS. If you actually read all of my inane ramblings, um. Thanks! I'm normal about Essence.
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number1villainstan · 8 months ago
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"You look like shit."
"Thank you, Yuna, I really needed to hear that. Why are you here exactly?"
"For Eri."
"You want her back? I thought you were done with her."
"Done with her? She's my kid."
"Yeah, your kid who killed your husband so you didn't want her anymore. I know how this works."
"Well clearly you don't, because what the fuck, Chisaki. You think I'm going to abandon my kid?"
"You already did abandon your kid. And then Pops gave her to me because he couldn't be arsed to take care of her either."
"Do you want me to take her back or not?"
"By all means, take her! I am not equipped to take care of a child! I'm just saying, you are not as innocent here as you want to pretend!"
"I'm not pretending anything! I don't care about how innocent I am! I just want my kid back! Fuck off!"
"Fine! Whatever! I'll go get her, just--"
"Absolutely not, I'm coming with you."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm coming with you, idiot. What, are you deaf now? I want to see my kid! And make sure she isn't missing any limbs!"
"Do you think I'd let her arm get chopped off? I'm not that negligent--"
"Maybe you are though! You said yourself that you're not equipped to take care of a kid! How am I supposed to know that she doesn't have a broken leg or something--"
"She's right here, you two. Quit arguing."
[Silence.]
"...hi, Hari."
"Hello, Kurono."
"Mama?"
"Hey, Eri baby. Are you alright? ...is that an alligator plushie?"
"'s a caiman. Nemoto gave it to me."
"I told you she was fine, Yuna."
"Shut up, Kai."
"In any case, if Eri's leaving, we should help her pack up her stuff. Kai, would you help me out?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Just--Yuna, can you tell the oyaji about this?"
"Why can't you?"
"Because he'll think I'm lying and I dumped her out on the street or something. He trusts you. He doesn't trust me."
"He doesn't trust me."
"He trusts you more than he trusts me."
"That's ridiculous. You tell him."
"You tell him."
"No, you tell him."
"You tell him."
"You both tell him."
"But Hari--"
"Both of you tell him. Now, Eri, are you ready to go?"
"Can I say goodbye to Nemoto first?"
"Sure, I'll go find him. And then we'll grab your stuff and hand you over. Kai, Yuna, you two go tell the oyaji, I'll take care of Eri. Seriously, you two are worse than Nemoto and I--"
"Hari--"
"GO."
"Fine."
"...fine."
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acid-ixx · 8 months ago
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I hope you don’t mind but I need to ramble this to someone, neglected Wayne reader right? The fam would forget to bring them to social events and whatnot right? So there would be very few pictures, articles and interviews or even facts about them, meaning that reader Wayne is a rarity. Still following me? Reader Wayne with a small but devout fanbase.
I’m talking they are trading the latest pictures and sharing links to the rare interview with reader in it, following any social media they have that isn’t private, they are just fascinated by this micro celebrity that seems to always be forgotten. Okay but also imagine one of the heroes developing a para-social attachment to reader. My money is on Conner Kent, mainly bc he can project his own issues with his dads onto reader and he can Dolores ~Encanto~ reader with his super hearing and develop a even bigger parasocial obsession with them
I hope you enjoyed this ramble, I will leave you be now, see ya later alligator! 🐊
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omg another one of my asks that actually predicted a major plot point... this ask ties well with the last part written here. i'm thinking about having the reader get a love interest/s but i have already written an outline but one thing is for sure—
you have more than just your family interested in taking you.
major spoilers below the cut. — an excerpt from chapter xx
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(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.
you are a product of a one-night-stand.
but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.
your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.
you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.
it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.
the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.
after all, your freedom is your doom.
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maybe this is out of the picture, but id' like to imagine you and connor having a therapy session where one comes out absolutely obsessed with the other, and it's not you.
connor's character for me is so, so good for an angst potential. it's like his personal struggles is a way for him to show you how absolutely you two are meant to be. and he may have met you through bumping into you (false) or maybe... he has seen you stalking through the shadows back when he visits the manor. using his superhearing, he can hear your voice from the kitchen begging alfred to relay a message to bruce, sounding so absolutely desperate. it's the way you tell alfred how you wished your father actually spends time with you, or how nobody seems to notice you— that he kind of just makes a silent promise that he will talk to you soon, he needs to know why this family seems so keen on ignoring and how hypocritical tim is for literally doing the same thing to you when he's aware of kon's past.
if he (or anyone else) should be a love interest (though he is a minor character in the series unless you guys want him to be a major one), i can already imagine the absolute hell you have to suffer not only from your family but from your own lover. just imagine the stockholm syndrome or the delusions you convince yourself with because you're finally loved by someone but that love restricts you from the very freedom you tried to build.
the batfamily would be so conflicted because why are you choosing some stranger over them...? then you slap them in the face with, "well, this "stranger" wants to kidnap me and lock me up, sure! but at least they actually looked at me for more than five seconds!" and you can watch how the color drains off their face, their conflict giving you the perfect opportunity to run away from both your ex-family and your soon-to-be-kidnapper-lover who thinks your comeback is a funny way for you to propose.
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artyandink · 5 months ago
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You should definitely do an imagine of Jensen's characters reacting to stretch marks!! I need that 😜😔
nature’s beauty
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SUMMARY: You have stretch marks. How would the boys react to that?
TW: Body image, issues with stretch marks— but they’re normal girlies, I have them too, Jensen’s characters being normal about it cause yeah, mild angst, mild smut, mentions of sex, making out, spice
SONG INSPO: Golden Hour by JVKE, Scars to Your Beautiful by Alessia Cara
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DEAN WINCHESTER
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Dean kissed down your body, undoing your jeans and pushing them down. He had you on your back in his bed, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he marked your skin like the possessive son of a bitch he was, taking your panties with them. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous.”
Dean was the type of guy to hit on every girl he saw, but that’s cause he found them beautiful. Shape or size. Then he met you, and he kept coming back for more and eventually made you his girlfriend after being a charming son of a bitch instead. He normally kissed every dip and curve he found, but today, you pressed your thighs together.
Not in a sexy way. You’d closed your legs. That was a problem— were you ok? You weren’t hurt, right? Or maybe you were on your period, but he didn’t see a pad on your panties and your cycle would be coming way too early— better to ask you.
“You ok, sweetheart?” Dean asked you, lifting his head up and sitting back on his heels, and you were turned on by the sight of his freckled, muscled upper body but also scared he’d get turned off by seeing the stretch marks that had appeared on your stomach and upper thighs. Well, not so much appeared, but you figured you lost some weight.
You nodded, trying to not look at the very obvious stretch marks and play your crippling insecurity off at the same time. “Yeah, I’m good.”
But Dean’s eyes followed yours, and they landed on the stretch marks, and his thumbs immediately moved to trace them. “Darlin’, you can’t seriously think I’m gonna mind these.” Then he saw the embarrassed look on your face, and he kissed down your stretch marks, which surprised you. “God, I love ‘em. It’s nature, baby. Shows you’re a damn beautiful woman with damn beautiful normal things. And guess what?”
He climbed back up until your face was level with his, and he gave you a kiss that blew your mind, took your breath away. “You’ve earned yourself a first class, five star worshipping.”
Your eyes widened, knowing what that meant. “Wait, Dean—”
Your legs went over his shoulders, a wicked grin on his face. “Can’t have my gorgeous girl feelin’ insecure, hm? So you’re gonna feel good. All. Night. Long.”
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BEN
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You’d just come off the effects of giving birth, and man, when Ben realised that one, you had his kid and two, you were ready to get fucked into oblivion again, he was ecstatic. You’d had a baby girl, Austin, named after the city (“Austin? What the fuck kinda name is— wait, that’s actually perfect.”) and she quickly became a daddy’s girl, as Ben promised you she would as soon as he held the baby in his gigantic hands.
But then there came the problem of stretch marks.
Your belly had, in your words, ‘deflated’, but now you were left with the horror of stretch marks, which kind of made you think. What would Ben say? He loved his women ripe and pretty and perfect, what would he say if he saw those marks on your skin?
You found out when you were standing shirtless in your bedroom, inspecting the marks when Ben stepped in, and his libido fired up the moment he saw you standing with only your bra on. That’d be torn off in a few moments, he was sure.
“Hello, sexy mama.” He grinned wolfishly, stepping behind you, dropping his lips to your neck as his hands rubbed over the stomach that held his kid. “Don’t know about you, but I’m lookin’ to pamper my gorgeous wife and the mother of my kid. Gonna make you come so many times, I swear to God.”
But when you stopped his hand from going down the front of your pants, he raised his eyebrows. Not the time? Or… did someone hurt you?
“Sweetcheeks, did something happen?” He asked, his brow now furrowing. Ben was an impatient man. “I swear, baby girl, you tell the name of the motherfucker who hurt you and I’ll-”
“You don’t see them?” You asked in confusion, and his eyes travelled around the room and then back to you in mirrored emotion. See what? What the fuck was he supposed to see?
Ben chuckled, cupping your cheek. “Did you get into my weed? Are you high, gorgeous?”
“No, I’m not high.” You smiled despite yourself, and gestured down to your stomach, rubbing over the marks. “These. You don’t… see them? You don’t care?”
Ben scoffed, his hand resting over yours to stop them from moving. “Why the fuck should I care when this is proof that you carried our kid? Shit, darlin’, you did that for nine months. If anything, that’s a mark of a damn strong woman, and that? It turns me on. Gets me going.” A kiss to your neck. “Gets me rock hard.” Another kiss, pressing himself fully against your back so you could feel it. “Ain’t no life in which you won’t turn me on, babydoll.”
It brought a smile to your face.
“Now, you’re gonna sit pretty, and I’m gonna fuck this crap out of that gorgeous little head’a yours.”
Shit.
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BEAU ARLEN
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“H-Hey, Beau, c’mon, that tickles!” You were lying on your back on the bed, your shirt pushed up while Beau kissed over your stretch marks, beard tickling your skin while his hands held your hips in place.
But the Texan cowboy looked up with a shit-eating grin, pressing another kiss to another mark. “You’re the one who felt insecure about this, darlin’. I’ve gotta give it some good old Texan lovin’, so you brought this on yourself.”
He continued kissing over them, fingers tracing them while you couldn’t help but giggle and squirm, but also feel reassured. “Come on, handsome, I get the point.”
Beau still gave you an indignant look paired with a smirk— the stubborn bastard. “No can do, gorgeous. Can’t tear myself away from these. It’s like they’re magnetic.” He continued pressing kisses to them, chuckling under his breath.
His hands kneaded your hips, then rubbed comfortingly up and down your sides, humming at every press of his lips to your stretch marks as if he belonged there.
Beau kissed up your body, then nuzzled his nose against yours before pressing a slow kiss to your lips, covering your hand that came up to cup his cheek, your giggles dissolving into an identical hum. His lips were soft, and they felt like home. He was your home.
When he pulled back, Beau took your hand in his and pressed kisses to your knuckles this time, then every finger.
“I love every inch’a you, sugar.” He rumbled with a loving smile, brushing your hair out of your face. “Don’t you ever forget that, y’hear me?”
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CJ BRAXTON
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You and CJ were cuddling on the pull-out couch in your co-ed, your head tucked into the crook of his neck while his arms were around you like a koala. His hand rubbed up and down your side over your shirt, fingers lightly brushing your skin and tracing patterns.
It was no secret to anyone that CJ adored you so much it could give him a cavity with how sweet he was on you. He kept on looking down at you, a small smile on his face while he thought of how much of a lucky bastard he was.
His hand slipped under your shirt, not to initiate anything like sex but to just feel you closer, but his fingers brushed your stretch marks and he instantly felt your hand take his wrist, stopping him. That set him off into a world of worry.
“Woah, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, frowning as his eyes abandoned the movie, instantly locking on you. “Everything ok? You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, it’s fine, just don’t wanna be touched there.” You murmured, kissing his cheek, but he didn’t believe that. His hand slowly lifted up your shirt, watching you for any signs of extreme discomfort, or even slight. But you didn’t stop him, so when he saw your stretch marks, he raised his eyebrows with a smile.
“Hey, there, beautiful.” He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over them. “Where have you been hiding?”
Wait, what? He didn’t mind?
“You don’t- you’re not grossed out, or you don’t hate them?” You asked, severely confused but hopeful. And slightly embarrassed that you immediately expected him to hate them.
CJ’s eyebrows raised to his hairline, and he kissed your forehead. “Being grossed out by these is like being grossed out when you get your period, and I love you even more when you’re on your period. I get to cuddle with you and love you. This right here just gives me an extra opportunity to show you how beautiful you are. These are normal. It’s a natural process, and I’m a nature guy.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really.” He grinned, kissing you briefly but sweetly, and it melted all your nerves. He was controversially perfect, you thought, and that made you love him even more.
Damn him.
“Thank you.” You sighed, cupping his cheek. He responded with a smile and kissed the inside of your wrist, rubbing the marks on your skin with a grin on your face.
CJ looked down to the stretch marks, kissing you deeply. “Don’t you ever think anything about you makes you less than.” He murmured against your lips, hand coming up to cup your chin.
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ALEC MCDOWELL
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Alec McDowell, a cocky-ass son of a bitch. He knew it, everyone knew it, and he did well to remind everyone of it whenever he opened his goddamn mouth. However, he was your cocky-ass son of a bitch, because he was your boyfriend.
As he was a transgenic and you were a human, he’d heard of stretch marks but never seen them on a person because transgenics didn’t have bodily imperfections. It was practically impossible. So when you opened up to him about your insecurities about them, well, he was more than willing to comfort you even if he was inwardly confused as fuck.
You were beautiful. What was this nonsense?
“I don’t see anything that ain’t beautiful, if that’s what you’re asking.” He shrugged, being a little shit and acting as if your stretch marks didn’t exist. “In fact, I see some gorgeous tiger stripes. Absolutely stunning.”
The comparison had you chucking a throw pillow to him, which he caught, obviously. “Alec!”
Alec gave you a grin, setting the pillow aside and catching another one. “What, you’re telling me those things don’t look like tiger stripes? Come on, dollface. Be entirely honest.” He pointed at the stretch marks with a sexy smirk that would’ve had your knees weak not for the situation. “Tiger. Stripes. Cause you’re fierce. Majestic.”
“You’re actually crazy.” Despite yourself, you were grinning like a lovesick idiot.
“Crazy for you, baby.” He replied with a wink, setting the pillow aside before reaching the bed with his advanced speed, beginning to kiss your neck. “Now, about that body of yours…”
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JASON TEAGUE
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“Wait- hold on for a moment.” Jason raised an eyebrow, pulling back from kissing you senseless on your bed. “You saying ‘I wanna show you something’ wasn’t code for sex? Baby, we gotta make signals more clear.”
You lifted your shirt, showing Jason the marks around your stomach. His eyebrows raised slightly at them, and you bit your lip. “Is this ok with you?”
Is this ok?
Is this ok?
“Should it not be?” He raised his eyebrow with a small smile. “I’m not fazed by these, sweetheart. In fact, the fact that you have normal bodily reactions, that makes you more gorgeous to me. In fact, the knowledge that you breathe turns me on, because it’s normal.” You could practically taste the amusement in his words, and you swatted his shoulder with a laugh.
“Alright, I get it.” You pouted, and he let out a small ‘aww’ and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your temple. “I get it.”
Jason hummed, cupping your chin so he could turn it for a slow kiss. “Look, I’m gonna revert back to… seventh grade. I think. And I have no shame in it, especially not when I say that I think you’re really pretty. And I think you’re smart, and funny, and you have a killer body - that’s not seventh grade - but my point is that nothing about that bothers me. Ok? So don’t let it bother you, I don’t love you any less.”
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©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨
𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago
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Meet the Family 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen
Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
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You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 
Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 
“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 
“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 
“Thank god. You got everything?” 
Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 
“I believe so--” 
“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 
“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 
“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 
“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 
“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 
He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 
You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 
The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 
You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 
Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 
You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 
“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 
Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 
“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 
“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 
“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 
“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 
“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 
“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 
“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 
“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 
“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 
“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 
“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 
“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 
“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 
“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 
He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 
“Mr. Han--” 
“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 
“What’s going on?” 
“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 
“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 
He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 
“Mr.--” 
“If I have to tell you one more time--” 
“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 
“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 
“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 
“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 
“Huh?” 
“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 
“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 
“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 
“Sir--” 
“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 
“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 
“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 
“Oh god,” you utter. 
“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 
Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 
You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 
“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 
You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  
Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 
It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 
“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 
“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 
The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 
“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 
“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 
“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 
“Oh, fuck you.” 
“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 
“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  
“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 
“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 
You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 
“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 
The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 
He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  
“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 
“Right, sir.” 
He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 
“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 
You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 
He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 
A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 
“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 
“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 
You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 
“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 
She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 
“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 
“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 
Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 
He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 
“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 
“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 
Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 
“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 
“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 
“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 
“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 
“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 
You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 
“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 
“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 
“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 
You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 
William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 
Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 
“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 
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netherfeildren · 10 months ago
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How to Endure Ardor:
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Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it
A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!
Word Count: 1.3K
Read on AO3
This is a lesson:
“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.
A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him. 
Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging. 
The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it. 
But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.
This is obvious too, even if only to them.
He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and—yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there. 
It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie. 
Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—
—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.
The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before. 
Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into? 
These are the things he asks himself. 
Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them? 
The answer is usually yes.
At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is. 
Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability. 
Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy. 
You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much. 
“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.
“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal. 
He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again. 
You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate. 
He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love. 
All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?
Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love 
So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained. 
Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this? 
He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt. 
But then again, you know him.
Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.
And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud. 
You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.
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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 21 days ago
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“The VVitch” (2015) and “Nosferatu” (2024) Are More Similar Than You Think
Robert Eggers made “The VVitch” and then thought: what if Thomasin and Black Phillip/The Devil had an demonic sexual love story going on? Time to make my own version of “Nosferatu” (the first script is from 2016).
This man is really out there making historical horror movies about ostracized women making pacts with the Devil.
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“Wouldst thou like the taste of butter? A pretty dress? Wouldst thou like to live deliciously? […] Wouldst Thou Like to See the World?”
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“You are not for the living. You are not for human kind. And shall you be one with me ever-eternally. Do you swear it? […] As our spirits are one, so too shall be our flesh. You are mine.”
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How these films are similar:
Both Thomasin and Ellen pray for something at the beginning of the film, and the Devil answers: Thomasin asks for forgiveness and guidance, Ellen prays for companionship and tenderness;
Both Thomasin and Ellen are ostracized in connection with their womanhood and sexuality: Thomasin is growing into a woman, and Ellen has “hysteric fits” with strong sexual undertones;
The Devil (Black Phillip and Orlok) essentially kills everyone around them, until they are the only left, to force their hand into accepting him (a bit different in “Nosferatu” because it’s a remake);
Both films have a pair of children which are “foreshadowing bombs” in the narrative (Mercy and Jonas in “The VVitch” and Clara and Louise in “Nosferatu”);
In both films, the Devil offers something tempting to both these characters, which they accept: Black Philip promises freedom and knowledge, and Orlok promises eternal passion and sex;
Both pacts involve blood sacrifice and death to seal them: in “The VVitch” Thomasin kills her mother, in “Nosferatu” Ellen kills herself alongside Orlok.
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Thomasin was accused of being a "witch", a “whore” and having a pact with the Devil by everyone around her, until she actually did at the end. Ellen is also seen as “deranged”, “diseased” and often compared to supernatural beings ("changeling girl", "sylph", "fairy", etc.) until she becomes just that at the end, too. They are both the Devil’s concubines.
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“I’m that very witch. When I sleep my spirit slips away from my body and dances naked with the Devil. That’s how I signed his book.”
Thomasin taunts her sister, Mercy (“The VVitch”, 2015)
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In another post, I already explored which demonic figures Ellen and Orlok are meant to be in this adaptation: Babalon and the Beast.
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There I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was covered with blasphemous names and had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was dressed in purple [lilacs] and scarlet [blood], and was glittering with gold sunlight precious stones and pearls [sunlight]. She held a golden cup in her hand, filled with abominable things and the filth of her adulteries. The name written on her forehead was a mystery: Babylon the great, the mother of prostitutes, and of the abominations of the earth.
“Scarlet beast” = Orlok, a vampire
“blasphemous names” = names of the Devil
“Seven heads” = heptagram, the seven-pointed star (Orlok and Babalon’s sigils)
“Ten horns” = ten lilac flowers
“Golden cup” = it’s the Holy grail = womb
“Filled with abominations” = sex with Orlok, necrophilia
“Filth of her adulteries” = she’s married to Thomas before God, and she’s defiling that vow on their marriage bed
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“She [Babalon] rides astride the Beast; in her left hand she holds the reins, representing the passion which unites them. In her right she holds aloft the cup, the Holy Grail aflame with love and death.”
Aleister Crowley, “The Book of Thoth”
In some occult circles, this “Beast” is the Devil himself, which makes me ask: is Orlok the Devil?
Not only he’s referred as such several times in the actual film, but also the fact he was one of the Solomonari, a dark wizard, in life, a servant and a student of the Devil. We are told “the Devil preserved his soul that his corpse may walk again in blaspheme.” So… who’s actually walking in that corpse? Orlok’s soul or the Devil? Being a servant to the Devil is being a puppet to the Devil, essentially. This is pretty much what the abbess says to Thomas: it’s the Devil that makes Orlok’s corpse walk.
In another post I already talked about how Orlok prepared his own physical death, because the book containing the “maiden’s sacrifice” was found by Von Franz in Knock’s office, his fanatical servant, which is shady to say the least. The Devil is a deceiver after all (as Ellen herself accuses him of being), so making the heroes believe they are beating him while doing exactly what he wants them to do, it’s not far fetched, and even rooted in religious belief.
Why would Orlok want to die in the physical world? Because he wants his spirit to be set free, he doesn’t want to be trapped in a freaking rotten corpse, which explains why he tells Ellen she’s “his affliction”; she’s the one who trapped in that physical form when she awoke him, probably. He wants to return to spiritual form, and wants to take Ellen with him; which explains their covenant, and their blood sacrifice at the end to seal it. And Ellen was also fully aware of what she was signing for, she knew what her physical death would mean (being forever joined with him in hell, or the Underworld or whatever “celestial sphere”), and that Orlok would die too (obviously).
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flowerandblood · 1 year ago
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The Fall from the Heavens (3)
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, incest, obsession, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, mention of injury ]
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[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
When he learned of the death of Daemon's wife, he knew it was a sign from the gods that his time had come − Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragoness in the world, was left without a rider.
He thought that at last he would make his father proud, that he would take his niece to Essos as he had promised her.
It seemed to him that the heavens were finally smiling on him, that everything made sense and was slowly beginning to come together, that he could see above the mist that surrounded him his destiny.
As he fled from the fortress in the middle of the night he thought only of the fact that he might die and hoped that if he did, his betrothed would mourn him greatly and never marry any other man.
Her sign of love and loyalty, of respect for his sacrifice for her and their future family.
Vhagar was frightening and huge, like a giant, dark, moving mountain, with her every movement the earth shook around her; he couldn't believe it when she obeyed his command, his body trembled as he climbed the ropes to the great saddle on her back, he screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him into the skies.
He was like Visenya, like Aegon the Conqueror, and his future wife was like sweet Rhaenys.
Everything was as it should be.
He ran through the underground caverns to wake her and tell her everything, to kiss her, to spend the night in her embrace and listen to her assurances that he was fearless, that he was brave and that she was proud to become the wife of the man who had become the rider of the most powerful dragon flying in the skies in their lifetime.
It was then that he came upon them.
He thought he would never let them humiliate himself again, that bastards or weak, quivering little girls who couldn't even tame a dragon would never stand in his way again.
All that mattered was her, and though he knew she would be upset, he felt that she would forgive him, that she would understand that this was revenge for all the years of humiliation he had suffered from them.
And then Luke cut his face with his blade − he suddenly heard his own loud, squeaky, almost girlish scream and grabbed his left eye where he had lost his sight completly.
He was given poppy milk to ease his pain and a stick was put in his mouth that he was told to clamp his teeth on; his mother cried out loud, horrified when she saw what had happened to him, the maester said the eye could not be saved and would have to be taken out.
That he would be a cripple.
He wailed and screamed, feeling the cut of the heated blade on his skin, struggling and writhing like an animal, tied to a chair, and then he stopped feeling anything, staring dully ahead, his mother and Aegon unable to look at it.
He saw her as if in a dream, and though she always smiled at the sight of him, this time she screamed loudly, terror and fear in her eyes.
She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the sounds that came from her throat.
Then he understood.
So what if he had claimed a dragon, if she would never desire him again?
How would she force herself to marry someone who was from now on supposed to look like him?
He returned to King's Landing with the thought that all was lost and he didn't want to see anyone, much less her.
He didn't want her tears of sympathy, her assurances that she still loved him, her pity, the fact that in order not to offend him she would refrain from showing how disgusted she now was by his face.
He was no fool.
Her letter only angered him − he tore it into little pieces clenching his lips, thinking she was an idiot, giving him books now that he had lost one eye, reminding him that he would never see well again, that he would always be defective, that he would have to learn everything from the beginning.
However, as soon as he did so he immediately regretted it and burst out crying, looking at the pieces of parchment lying on his sheets, thinking of how he wished he could read it again because it was her handwriting, her words to him.
His conviction of his ugliness and the fact that what had happened crossed him out in her eyes as a man she could desire deepened his state into complete withdrawal, sinking into the darkness of his thoughts, fears and desires.
He needed someone to loathe, to throw all his ill emotions at, and he had chosen Luke as such a person, however it was the thoughts and dreams of her that kept him awake at night.
Waiting for her letters was his obsession.
She sent one every two months, always on the same day, for many years. At first they were short and full of uncertainty, but then it seemed to him that she had the impression that he didn't read them anyway, so she began to write and confide in someone who no longer existed, revealing to him the darkness and suffering of her own heart.
He was embarrassed by his own reactions, that whenever he saw a sealed message from her lying on his table, he would take it reverently and sit down on a chair by the fire, as if in some kind of ceremony pulling off the lac and unrolling it slowly, feeling his heart beat fast.
Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can't remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.
It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.
After what happened something inside me died.
Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.
I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can't get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.
I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.
He repeated to himself in his mind that he would read her despairing, feminine ramblings to mock her, but in fact he was immersed in her thoughts, in her world, trying to imagine her, analysing each word with pietism, returning to the sentences that had taken the most root in his heart and would not leave him afterwards for days.
He read her letters for hours, treating such evenings like a sacred day, running his thumb over his lower lip, staring dully ahead in the light of the blazing fire, thinking of her words.
Although he pretended that what she wrote meant nothing to him, once in a while, usually when he was waiting for her next message, he would take all her letters and read them one by one, analysing how her handwriting had changed, now much prettier and assured, how her choice of words had evolved, rich and full of metaphors.
He knew that, like him, she read a lot.
She never brought up the matter of his or her family, the details of their conflict, their betrothal and the fact that his mother had insisted that he marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.
When he learned that Rhaenyra planned to marry his niece to her cousin of House Arryn he grabbed all her letters she had sent him over the years, which he kept locked in his wooden drawer, and almost threw them into the fire, hesitating at the last moment, squeezing them in his hand, panting with rage.
Although he kept repeating to himself that it was a good thing he wouldn't have to take a bastard wife, immediately his mind went into a fury at the thought that she might have become someone else's mistress, borne children to other man, and he found himself sinking into her letters again, as if re-appropriating her in this way.
He feared nothing more than that one day she would stop writing to him.
He dreaded what he would do then.
The days when Aegon could mess with him were long gone. His older brother the drunkard knew he was no match for him in hand-to-hand combat, he was taller, smarter and stronger than he was.
Yet it was Aegon who was to inherit everything that would not fall to Rheanyra as future queen.
He wanted to be his opposite in every sense of the word; his appearance made him even more isolated from the opposite sex and he didn not look at women at all, spending long hours in the Great Sept with his mother praying at her request.
If it had been up to him, he would have prayed to the gods of Old Valyria, but he saw her loneliness and loss, and wanted to be a support for her, a son she would be proud of.
Despite what he tried to tell himself, the tension he felt as a man grew stronger within him, even more so in the evenings when he leaned over her letters again, when he thought of her scent, of her hand holding the quill.
He wondered involuntarily what she looked like now, what he would notice if he undressed her, if he exposed her bare breasts to him.
Would they fit in his hand, would they be soft and warm?
Would she moan sweetly if he touched her there?
He tilted his head back, trying to read further, settling himself more comfortably in the chair, his free hand slipping under his breeches, gripping his already half-hard, throbbing manhood.
He imagined that it wasn't his hand but hers that was touching him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that just like before her hands were stroking his cheeks, her lips were finding his in a sweet, warm kisses.
A murmur escaped his throat at the thought, a wave of heat surged over him and he quickened, fucking himself with his own hand until he came with a low sigh of relief, imagining that she was sitting on top of him, that he had just filled her with his seed, that she was begging him not to stop.
However, when he regained his sanity he felt rage and shame.
He hid her letters in a drawer and did not take them out for weeks, as if offended that it was their fault he had to pray again and beg the gods for forgiveness.
He promised himself that this would not happen again, however, it always ended the same way.
The knowledge that he could not forget her enraged and calmed him at the same time, as if this state was natural, the parallel hatred and desire for her became one and the same in his eyes.
He hated her because he desired her, desired her because he could not have her, could not have her because he hated her.
He locked himself in this circle, not allowing anyone to see what was poisoning his mind and heart.
If in the poems women appeared innocent and bright, she was to him the symbol of his downfall, his flame of his eternal suffering, which burned him every day, but which he did not dare to extinguish knowing that complete darkness would then prevail inside him.
When it became known that Vaemond Velaryon had challenged Luke's claim to the throne of Driftmark he laughed out loud at the Small Council meeting, amused, embarrassing his mother and grandfather.
He thought the gods were cruel but fair.
The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a strong heartbeat when their Queen conveyed that Rhaenyra, along with her entire family, would appear in King's Landing in a few days to settle the matter.
With her entire family.
He sat by the fireplace that evening, running his thumb over his lips, feeling that there was complete panic in his mind, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.
He wasn't ready for this.
He didn't want to see her.
He wanted nothing more than to see her again.
He was disgusted by her and her brothers, by the fact that he would be sitting at the same table with her.
Would she touch him with her soft hand? Did she still smell of vanilla? Would she whisper that she missed him?
What was he to answer if she did?
Mock her, tell her that she should retain the remnants of her dignity.
Tear off her gown, press his lips to her soft, bare body, saying that he would sooner kill her than let her marry someone else.
He let out a loud shuddering breath, burying his face in his hand, feeling like his head was about to explode, his heart pounding like mad.
He had the feeling that he was losing his mind, that he was descending into madness.
When he saw Jace and Luke among the crowds, when he saw how small and skinny they were compared to him, when he saw their mouths wide open in shock as they realised who they were looking at, he thought he had never felt more satisfied in his life.
"Nephews. Have you come to train?" He asked in a deep, teasing voice feigning concern as he played with the hilt of his sword in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.
He wanted nothing more than to humiliate them in public.
His musings and wild excitement were interrupted by Vaemond's entrance into the courtyard − he grinned broadly at the sight of him, feeling a sense of satisfaction, sighing quietly, thinking of how the gods had rewarded his patience.
He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters.
It seemed to him that his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat.
He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her − he couldn't believe how much she had changed.
Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.
He imagined his swollen lips brushing the hollow of her bare neck, the soft skin of her shoulders, the scent of vanilla he would smell and he shuddered, ashamed and horrified at how hard his manhood throbbed in his breeches.
This sight, so clear, blunt, final, completely shocked him, and though it lasted only a moment, he managed to remember the shape of her breasts and hips, the shape of her parted mouth, her terrified gaze full of longing.
He turned away from her, furious, thrusting his sword at Criston, their blades clashing in the air with a loud clang of steel.
That evening he felt that something hung in the air. He felt her presence in the keep and had the impression that if he turned he would see her silhouette behind him.
He played between his fingers with his dagger and looked at it, wondering if he would feel relief if he killed her, if he would then regain control of his body and mind again.
Maybe it was the right path.
Maybe it was because of her that he was unable to move on.
He shuddered and tensed all over when he heard a quiet knock on the door to his chamber − he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck, knowing that it was her, that destiny had reached him.
He felt it in his bones.
He wanted to remain silent, he wanted to show her that she no longer had access to his world, that he recognised years ago that there was no way for them that they could walk together.
I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.
He closed his eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought of those three sentences that echoed through his mind and heart like a bell, that undeniable desire on her part to be reunited with him that he pretended not to share.
"Come in." He said coldly, feeling the thrill of excitement, his heart pounding so hard that he felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.
The door opened with a quiet creak of wood, and she appeared in it, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, looking like a saint, like a ghost, like an innocent, sweet maiden who was lost in the black maze that had always been meant to lead her to him.
He resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from it.
She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him; he wasn't sure if it was the flames that was trembling or if it was her body that was quivering all over with fear, in her big eyes terror, desire, suffering, everything she had written to him about.
Only after a moment did he realise that his jaw was clenched, that he was involuntarily still playing with his dagger in his hand as he looked at the indistinct silhouette of her naked body peeking through from under her nightgown, her long dark hair loose, its curls falling freely over her back.
He felt his length throbbing hard at the thought of her coming to him dressed as a lover, as if she were his.
He licked his lower lip with his tongue, catching himself breathing loudly.
Gods, how long he had waited for this.
"Did you received my letters?" She asked quietly, as usual without any further pleasantries, her voice trembled slightly betraying her fear.
He shuddered to hear that she no longer sounded like a child, the way she spoke was melodious and pleasant, soft, warm.
"Yes." He replied in a low, deep voice, sounding like an echo in an endless, dark bottomless well.
He saw that she blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't expected such an answer; she pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, gathering the courage to say more.
She knew she had ventured into the dragon's cave and might never leave it again.
He knew, he felt that she was aware of what was on his mind, that she saw it in his gaze.
"Have you read them?" She asked at last, there was something final in her question.
He parted his lips slightly, lifting his chin in a defiant gesture, stretching comfortably in his chair, wondering if he should humiliate her with words that he had burned them all.
To let her know that she no longer meant anything to him.
He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.
"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He hummed, running the blade of his dagger across the armrest, making a deep, chiseled line on it.
Go on, he thought, ask me why I didn't write back, what I thought of your tendentious, weepy musings, what I thought of your feminine, touching guilt, of your weakness, of your coming to me now like a dog to beg forgiveness.
She, however, asked nothing.
He shuddered and threw her a surprised glance as she suddenly moved ahead with a grave expression on her face, as if she had lost interest in the subject, making him feel discomfort.
"Does your mother-whore know you're here?" He asked dryly, wanting to take away her confidence, to embarrass her, to strike at her dignity, reminding her that she herself had come to a grown man in such a shameless negligee.
She, however, merely threw him a surprised glance as she approached his bookshelves, the small one he had been given as a child replaced by three new ones, made of oak wood, high to the ceiling, filled to the brim.
She reached for one of the volumes and he felt a squeeze in his throat when he saw that she had taken out The Reflections on the Dignity of the Ancient Philosopher Areon.
"My, as you put it, mother-whore, never knew when I visited you, uncle. I was very determined not to be caught." She said calmly, but with an air of regret and weariness, as if the situation between them was tiring her, as if she believed that facing him like a ghost from the past would allow her to move on.
He thought they both could have done it, but he wasn't sure if the blade he held in his hand wouldn't have cut her neck then.
He snorted, turning his gaze to the flames, involuntarily turning his dagger in his hand − he grinned despite being tense and bitter.
"Do you often visit men like this?" He asked reluctantly, though inside he was dying to prove to himself that surely she had already slept with her guards or other men who would give her pleasure, that the sweet, innocent girl he remembered was long gone.
He heard her footsteps and felt her presence; he lifted his eye to her, surprised, and noticed that her gaze was cloudy, her brow furrowed.
She looked as if she had been exceptionally offended by those very words.
"Have you no shame?" She asked him in a cool, trembling voice; he could feel the pain in the way she asked the question, his lips tightened into a thin line.
He was struck by how direct the question was.
He wasn't used to being spoken to like that.
But before he had time to respond with anything, to finally stab her in the back with words that were like poison, she began to speak, as if a dam had suddenly burst inside her and her thoughts poured out at him.
"I don't know who you are, the man who sits now before me, but if there is even a fragment of the boy I was meant to marry in you, let that boy know that he was and will be the only one in my heart. He was my beloved friend and I failed him. It is hard to live with the thought that someone you loved so deeply has died in a way, but there is neither a grave to pray over nor any hope of peace for his soul. What I fear is that the boy I knew has disappeared among the darkness and is dying in it every day."
He was ashamed that he felt a squeeze in his throat, that he felt a burning under his eyelids, that his heart was pounding like mad, that he froze completely in disbelief and shock as he stared at her wide-eyed.
She bursted into sobs in front of him, as if she was really mourning someone's death, and he didn't know what to do – even if he wanted to humiliate her, tell her to leave, he couldn't get anything out of himself.
He drew in air loudly and his whole body stiffened, the dagger fell out of his hand with loud clatter when she surprised him completely by sitting down on his lap, snuggling into him like a little child.
He had the feeling that she was not embracing him in the here and now, but a figure from the past that she missed so much.
"– forgive me – forgive me – forgive me –" She whined in a desperate, trembling, quivering voice.
He felt he was struggling to catch his breath, his nostrils filled with her scent, the smell of vanilla, her familiar warmth, his manhood hidden beneath his breeches swelled in response to this sudden, unexpected closeness, hitting her stomach.
She shuddered feeling it and looked up at him, her face flooded with tears, terrified and ashamed, her gaze asking him what she had just felt underneath her.
He began to breathe through his mouth, feeling the panic rising inside him because of the heat and tingling he felt in his lower abdomen.
There were drops of her tears on her eyelashes, her eyes big, her gaze hot, tender, terrified, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her lips puffy and plump, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.
"– can I kiss you? –"
He wasn't sure if he really heard it, it seemed to have only resounded in his head as his memory of that sunny day, but involuntarily he leaned lower.
He sighed as if relieved when her arms suddenly embraced his neck, her plump breasts snuggled into his tunic, and her wonderfully wet, soft lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.
They both moaned into each other's mouths as they felt his erection throb under her again, harder this time − he wasn't sure if it was his will that guided the movements of his hands as one clamped down on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, holding her in place, not allowing her lips to pull away from his as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.
They both trembled as he tentatively began to rock his hips, rubbing against her from below, teasing her palate with the tip of his tongue, overwhelmed by her familiar closeness and scent, her so-needed, gentle hands stroking his hair and cheeks, her thumb running over his scar under his eye patch.
The sight of her body, her sweetly parted lips, her hot gaze in which everything lurked, and her scent, the smell of fucking vanilla filled his entire mind.
He rubbed his already hard cock against the place between her thighs again and again, panting heavily, sliding his free hand under the material of her nightgown, placing it on her naked, hot hip, digging his fingertips into her wonderfully soft skin.
He saw the blush on her sweet, innocent face, her hips in a slow, smooth motion began to move back and forth, pressing what was underneath her; he shuddered all over feeling it and they both sighed quietly as her fingers ran over his jaw.
"− uncle −" She whispered softly into his mouth, exactly like in his dreams, like when he touched himself between his thighs with his hand.
With longing and desire.
He was unable to remember when she pressed her sweet-tasting lips to his again, hugging her soft breasts into the fabric of his tunic, what the reason for their disagreement was, it seemed to him to be completely trivial and unfounded.
He thought it was obvious that the lovers had argued with each other and then reconciled.
That was all he thought about as he undid the ties of her nightgown, sucking and caressing her fleshy, moist mouth, her jaw, her neck, her shoulders with his swollen lips, leaving wet, hot marks on her skin – his hands slid it slowly off her arms, revealing her bare body, her lovely breasts, unashamedly before him.
He delighted in this sight, almost mythological, noble, for breasts were the joy of husbands and the source of milk for their offspring, something beautiful, admirable.
He could feel her trembling all over in his hands, terrified by her negligee; he was sure now that no one had ever seen her naked before him and this thought spread like a wonderful, hot wave through his body.
"− easy − your uncle will treat your body with proper respect −" He murmured in a deep voice trembling with arousal, his large hand grasped one of her breast and squeezed it tentatively; he sighed feeling how warm and soft it was.
She moaned innocently in front of him, making his long erection press against her lower abdomen again.
He grasped her cheeks in his hand, with a brutal, sudden movement drawing her face closer to his, his fingers ran over her soft, wet, full lips.
"− please −" She mumbled, her gaze warm and hazy, her little body trembling in his embrance.
He decided to take pity on her, sliding his tongue deep inside her throat, stifling her loud mewl.
His thumb began to tease and play with her nipple, making her whole body shivered; he felt her hands tighten in his hair, her lips melt into his in a quick, hot dance of saliva and teeth.
"− uh − it tickles − here –" She muttered, rubbing against his swollen erection with her hips, as if she really didn't know what was happening to her, as if she wanted him to help her understand what her body was trying to tell her, however he, hearing this, lost his temper.
Despite the material of his breeches separating them where their bodies met, he could feel her moisture.
She was wet.
She wanted him inside her.
"− it's understandable − you missed your uncle − hm? −" He murmured into her mouth with a kind of tenderness and understanding that surprised him, as if it had been obvious that this was how it would end.
She nodded quickly like a child who agreed with his teacher, who wanted to be guided, to be shown what was right.
She squealed as he stood up with her, holding her in his arms, just thinking about the fact that he hadn't felt this calm for years, the sight of her, the smell of her made his head spin.
He couldn't even remember why he was mad at her, why he hadn't written her back, why he wanted to kill her.
How could he ever hurt her, his sweet little wife?
"− lie on your back − yes, just like that −" He murmured with delight, looking at her partially exposed body; her lips was pink and puffy from his caresses, her breath heavy as she looked at him dreamily, watching as he began to undo the fastenings of his tunic, getting rid of it, leaving only his shirt and breeches.
He climbed onto the bed with a loud creak of wood, not quite sure what he should do, sensing subconsciously, however, that this was the day of their reunion, their reconciliation after years of separation, the figures of Lord Baratheon's daughters and Lord Arryn's son seemed to him nothing more than a joke.
He knew that he couldn't take her maidenhood, deprive her of her virtue even it was the only thing he desired now and, desperate, he reminded himself about what his brother said to him one day.
Then he was embarrassed by his words, but now he thought that he could make use of them.
Aegon spoke to him of how wonderful it was to taste the woman between their thighs, that they quivered with delight when he licked them there, and since he would devour her whole if he could, he decided to try.
She was horrified and distraught when she saw his face between her thighs; he thought, lifting the material of her nightgown above her hips, that her womanhood reminded him of a flesh of a fruit, pink, moist and fleshy.
She tried to push him away, asking him fearfully what he was going to do as he leaned down, but she only tilted her head back as his tongue ran over her leaking, throbbing, hot slit, the sound she made surprised even him.
"− o-oh, gods −" She whimpered as he licked devotedly what spilled out of her, the taste and flesh of his future wife, her proof that she didn't despise him, that she still wanted him, that her little cunt was waiting for him and for his caresses.
"− have you touched yourself here? −" He gasped between one lick of his tongue and the next, her thighs trembling in his hands, her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to rub against his face.
He grinned involuntarily sensing her desperation, seeing that she nodded and ran the tip of his nose over the puffy bud hidden between her folds, making her moaned loudly.
Encouraged, he grasped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, licking it with his tongue; her whole body arched, uncontrollable whines erupted from her mouth. He tried to cover her lips with his hand, fearing that someone would eventually hear it, but she clamped her hands on his wrist, blocking his movements.
"− please, uncle, too much − too much −" She whimpered, trying to escape; he stopped, seeing that her body was shaking in convulsions, surprised how sensitive the female body was and how many secrets it hid.
He thought he now understood why it was Rhaenys that Aegon the Conqueror wanted in his bed.
In the art of the body, one could not be aggressive and brutal as on the battlefield.
What they were doing was some sort of a feast, tasting and satisfying their desires, full of moistures and hot embraces.
He hummed as he leaned down again, intrigued, and slowly slipped his tongue deep inside her, feeling how rough and wet her fleshy walls were, groaning quietly as her wonderful taste spread across his palate.
"− uncle − mghmm −" She mumbled, breathing hard, with each flick of his tongue inside her drifting away more and more, he could feel her insides pulsing all over around nothing.
"− it'll be wonderful to feel it clench around my fat cock one day − don't you think, sweet niece? −" He asked, pressing his face closer to her body, licking and rubbing her walls in place that when he touched it with the tip of his tongue she trembled the most, moaning helplessly, her hips coming up to meet his face, her breathing getting louder and louder.
"− oh g-gods, Aemond − oh gods,oh gods,oh gods −" She mewled, startling him as she raised herself up on her elbow, tilting her head back, bliss and delight painted on her face, her plump, glossy lips parted in sweet moans as if in disbelief that something so wonderfully pleasurable had shaken her body.
It was the first time he had ever seen female fulfilment and it was a stunning, wonderful sight.
He groaned low as he felt how much moisture flowed out of her, kissing her hot, throbbing entrance devotedly, slowly licking everything off, not wanting to waste a drop, even though she begged him to stop.
Everything he drank from her was for him, the wonderful nectar of his sweet wife.
He rose on his knees, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her in disbelief, panting loudly; she lay as if without strength, with her hands spread on either side of her head, her plump, puffy lips slightly parted in ragged breath.
His niece.
"Touch me." He demanded, slipping off his breeches, taking her hand in his, with a desperate, sudden movement clamping her fingers on his swollen, twitching erection, leaking from his own wetness. They both moaned helplessly when, with movements of his hand, he showed her how she was to touch him.
She looked up at him in shame, squeezing his long, swollen manhood with sure up and down strokes, feeling it throb all over in her grasp; he rocked his hips involuntarily, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to fulfillment.
"− fuck − fuck, come here −" He gasped, grabbing her by her hair, forcing her to rise up and kiss him − their lips collided in a sticky, messy kiss, the combination of their tongues and their saliva, the smell of her, the sight of her bare body, the scent of her sex, her moisture around them, proof of what they were doing.
Against their gods, against their family.
He didn't care what happened next.
"− don't fucking stop − faster − fuck-fuck-fuck −" He hissed and groaned low, surprised at the helpless sound that came from his throat, coming with a sigh of relief onto her nightgown, his translucent, pearly spend spurting out onto her, startling her; he hushed her with his kisses, whispering to her between the sticky brushes of their lips.
"− easy, it's just me − shhh −" He whispered, letting go of her hand, allowing her to release her grip, her fingers all sticky with his seed.
"− lick it off − don't waste a drop −" He growled, wrinkling his eyebrows.
She swallowed loudly, all red with shame at his lewd words, obediently licking her finger after finger, looking him straight in the eye. He watched her with satisfaction, grinning, thinking of how obedient and good a wife she would indeed be.
"− you are going to spend the night with me −"
______
From the author: In Stay and love, leave and die oneshot Aemond would not allow her to enter his chamber, he would remain silent - in his opinion, she had forgotten about him and suddenly wanted to regain his favor, which he found pathetic and irritating, not worth his attention. None of her letters reached him through the years, having been intercepted and burned by Otto. The next day, he informed his mother that either she would leave the Red Keep or he would, and she decided to return to Dragonstone so as not to escalate the conflict. In that universe, they actually speak to each other only in Strom's End.
______
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes
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utterlyotterlyx · 6 months ago
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A Ballad of Storm and Shadow
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Azriel x F!Reader
Part Four
Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.
Warnings - fluff, mentions of war, Feysand 🫶🏻, bit of a filler to build relationships but worth it, mentions of loss and grief
Part One Part Two Part Three
This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character
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The day after her return had proven to be Velaris' brightest day yet. The sun beat down upon the city, causing the citizens to close up the shops until the evening and descend upon the fields and streams to bask in the heavenly glow and gentle breezes that danced throughout the city.
"Do you think this is linked?" Feyre had asked, finger idly drawing circles in her fresh teacup as she peered up at the sky.
Rhys came up behind her, kissing the bare patch of skin on her shoulder he had made from pushing her robe to the side slightly, "Perhaps," he mumbled against her neck, "I did say that the city has missed her."
"I thought you were just being nice," she pondered, thoughts drifting to y/n soaring over the roaring mountains only hours before.
Chuckling deeply with a throat of morning, Rhys spoke, "No, darling. I was telling the truth," he motioned to the cloudless skies and beaming sun with a faint smile, "My sister is home. The lost princess of Velaris is home. And the universe knows it."
Craning her head to the side, Feyre placed a kiss atop Rhys' lips and sighed, "You know that she cannot stay, my love," she brushed her nose along the bridge of his own and settled into his arms.
"I know. But that doesn't mean we can't make the most out of it."
Sipping her tea, Feyre turned to her mate, twisting in his arms and draping her hand over his shoulder, "Did she settle in to the House of Wind alright?"
"Yes," he cast his mind back to the early hours of the morning when his sister had curtly locked him out of her mind for prodding her too hard, "I suppose she'd like to see the city today." Despite the need discuss the looming war, Rhys could spare one day to show his sister the city in which she was born.
A knowing glint sparkled in Feyre's eye and he craned his head back with inquisition, "Well," she began, sipping her tea and placing the teacup on the nearest table, "Azriel already asked her, and she agreed. Eagerly."
A singular bubble of annoyance grasped Rhys' heart, but it went as quickly as it appeared, and he found himself sighing, "I swear to the Mother, if Az starts to pine after my sister like he did with Mor, I will lose it."
Humming, Feyre draped her arms over her mates shoulders, looping them around his neck with eyes glittering in the sunlight, "You will do no such thing, husband," she told him with a smirk, "Considering they may both be dead in a week, shouldn't they know the magic of what we have for themselves?"
With his resolve crumbling, Rhys dipped his head to meet her lips, feeling the bond between them sing in reply, "Fine, but I'm going with them. She's my sister before his obsession." Noticing her lids hood into sultry, Rhys threw his head back and laughed, sweeping her off of her feet in one fell motion and carrying her over to the bed, "I'll find them after I'm done with you."
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A gentle knock at the door pulled y/n's lost gaze away from the clear skies, she had awoken drowsy, probably due to the more than plush comforter she had bundled herself into the night before. It had taken y/n only minutes to drift away after Azriel had walked her to the door of her temporary chambers, leaving her alone with a soft smile and orbs gleaming with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
The knock sounded again, dragging her from the memory, and y/n adjusted the ties of her robe as she padded toward the door, wings rustling at her back and fingers wrapping around the ornate handle of solid gold, pulling the door open in a single motion.
On the other side stood Mor, dresses hanging from her fingers and a grin slapped upon her red tinted lips, "Good morning, princess," she drawled, pushing past her cousin and smirking at the violet eyes rolling in their sockets, "It's a beautiful day," Mor approached the freshly made bed, sprawling the garments along the comforter and turning to face the raven haired princess still lingering in the doorway. "Close the door and come here."
Blinking, y/n asked, "Excuse me?" Upon meeting Mor's deadpan stare, y/n caved and closed the door with a gentle click, facing her cousin with her arms folded over her chest.
"I thought you might need some clothes considering your little date with Azriel today." Mor caught the blush that she was attempting to conceal and smiled to herself, mostly because the mask of the Fae Queen was dissolving right before her very eyes, and it was a refreshing thing to witness in a world full of deception.
Fumbling with her fingers behind her back, y/n took a dancing step forward with toes skimming against the carpet, "It's not a date," she muttered, eyes scanning over the dresses that Mor had brought with her now spread across the bedspread, "They're very pretty."
"A few of them are mine, some are from Feyre's closet but don't tell Rhys that I took them," Mor told y/n with a playful nudge. She reached across the bed, grasping a hanger in her rouge painted fingers, holding it up to her cousin's figure with a contemplative look, "I knew it wouldn't work but you had me questioning myself," she tossed the tight orange garment to the floor not long after.
The next hour was spent with Mor fussing, ordering y/n to try on various dresses and then pulling at the hair that fell effortlessly down to her waist, tugging it into intricate braids and updos with a frown. "This last one has to be it," stepping over the mounds of clothes thrown upon the floor to hand y/n the last dress in the collection.
Holding it up against the light, y/n smiled at the shimmer that blew straight through the sheer fabric, atop the sheer taupe sat a forest of silver vines and dainty leaves, enough that would keep certain parts of her body hidden but that would also give anyone who looked at her the gift of imagination.
It was beautiful.
With a sparkling glare, y/n disappeared behind the folding screen once more, sliding from the robe and into the dress that seemed to be made for her as it hugged every inch of her skin on its ascent up her body. Smoothing her hands over the skirt, y/n stepped from the screen and found Mor perched upon the edge of the bed, leg folded over the other with lips curled into a smirk. "Azriel is going struggle to even speak when he sees you in that."
"It's not a date," y/n insisted, fingers raking through her hair so that is fell in perfect waves down her spine. Mor appeared behind her with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.
"Shoes," Mor hummed, ticking her tongue and gliding her gaze downward to y/n's feet. Bending down, Mor unclasped her own shoes and kicked them along the floor, "They're my favourites. Don't ruin them."
Then she was gone, sauntering from the room and leaving the door open, a silent order for y/n to follow, which, after one last glance in the mirror, she did.
Y/N didn't really have the energy to inspect the House of Wind the night prior, already comforted by the lost familiarity of it, but as she wandered down the hall wrapped around the dimming scent of Mor, did she take a moment to scan the walls, namely of the portrait of the man who had her eyes and the same raven hair.
Her father.
It was astounding really how much she looked like him, the eyes, the nose, the hair and skin, but her her lips and high cheekbones would always belong to her mother, as well as the darkness that curled between them. She wished that she could remember her last interaction with him, or anything about him, but her mind struggled with the 500 years of distance.
"Mother above. Did Velaris throw up on you?" A gruff voice called from the end of the hall, y/n craned her head to the side to see a smirking Cassian approaching her, skin now clearing of the bruises she had littered upon it.
Cassian came to a stop beside her, "It was Mor actually," she spoke softly, eyes drifting back to the portrait to which Cassian's own followed, and his demeanour softened infinitely as he shuffled closer to her so that their shoulders grazed with each exhale, "What was he like?"
Struggling to find the words and not wanting to lie to her, Cassian simply muttered, "He was a prick," he caught her bewildered stare, "But he cared, in his own odd way."
"Would Rhys say the same?"
"Yes. So would Azriel." Cassian turned his body to her, a body so large that it eclipsed the sunlight flowing through the window at the end of the hall, "But he loved you. That I know without a doubt."
"How?"
Cassian barely heard her whisper as her eyes continued to scan the face of her father, measuring their similarities and differences, "Because if he didn't then he never would have sent you away, he would have kept you and abused your power until the day he died. But he sent you to your mother because he believed in what you could be, and he was right."
Despite the longing to return to her homeland over the last 500 years, y/n's father had been right to send her away, he had made her into a weapon that Erilea would be lost without, he had made her into a queen.
Moving her burning gaze from the face of her father, y/n smiled upward at Cassian, it was one full of meaning and kindness, "Thank you."
The Lord of Bloodshed shrugged, leaning into her and saying, "Anything for my sister," laughing at her pointed glare, "Don't fight it. It's who you are now."
Making his way down the hall after rounding her figure, he turned back, beckoning her with his hand and she fell into step with him as they paced down the stairs side by side, both salivating at the scents of sugar, honey, and fresh pastries that lined the kitchen counter which pulled them both in instantly. The pair of them took their time adding delicacies to their plates, some more neatly than others, and entered the intimate dining room bickering between themselves.
Cassian stuck his middle finger up at y/n before splitting away from her with a grin on his lips, and y/n scowled as she found a place at the table nestled between Mor and Nesta, and opposite Azriel who hadn't said a word since y/n entered the room with his brother at her side.
With a knowing look, Mor caught Azriel's eyes and wiggled her eyebrows at him whilst passing a strawberry through her lips, as if to say you're welcome, and Azriel held back his deep chuckle of reply, turning his attention back toward the pastries and cured meats on his plate. He had gone into the city as early as he could before the stores decided on their closure to grab everything they would need to make y/n's morning as welcoming as possible, and he was glad to see the effort pay off when a decadent smile appeared on her lips after chewing on a certain honey and vanilla crème pastry for a few seconds.
"I see that you've made yourself at home," a dark voice spoke from behind y/n, a hand reaching over to pluck a vine of grapes from her plate on his way around to what y/n presumed to be his usual seat with Feyre in tow, "I take it you slept well after your flight around the city?"
Rhys leaned back in his seat, eyes scanning over her appreciatively at how well she had fallen into the Night Court fashions. "I did actually. The entire morning was going perfectly until you took food off my plate."
"It was a grape, y/n."
Whistling low, y/n widened her eyes, "I cannot wait for you to meet Lorcan. You wouldn't dare to do that if he was here."
"I am a High Lord-"
"And I am his blood-sworn Queen. What you are will mean nothing to him," y/n smiled at the glass that was filled with orange juice which appeared before her.
"Blood sworn?"
Clearing her throat, y/n explained simply, "My blood runs through his and Aedion's veins. They took the blood oath after the war, after I killed my mother and ascended the throne. Lorcan and Aedion would die for me even without the bond, but it is of the highest honour to be given it in our world. Our lives and souls are tied for eternity, even when we're nothing but a whisper of dust between the stars."
It was a consuming notion, to be so bound to another soul not even romantically that it meant that eternities would be spent together, ones long after death.
Nesta seemed taken by the motion, her orbs of silver flame casting over the queen beside her, "Do you have a family name?"
Cutting her gaze to the eldest Archeron sister, y/n's features faltered, tightening with sadness and grief, "Yes," she nearly choked, "I didn't used to, I was just Princess Y/N of Doranelle, but," she drifted, fingernails digging into the surface of the table, "The male who cared for raised me died during the war, he sacrificed himself to save his son," y/n swallowed harshly, "I took his name so that he would always be with me. I'm Queen Y/N Gavriel of Doranelle now."
In a rare moment of softness, Nesta smiled sadly, "I'm sorry that you lost him."
Matching her action, y/n replied, "So am I."
Rhys hadn't realised what his sister had lost, through their story swapping she had never mentioned him, and it was clear to see why when he noted the despair in her eyes. The loss was still fresh for her, and she carried it with her daily.
Wanting y/n to feel the wonder of Velaris that had began to darken in harmony with her sadness, Azriel leaned forward, catching her eye and asking, "Are you ready to see your city?"
With skies clearing, y/n nodded eagerly, pushing her still full plate away from her as they both rose to their feet from opposite sides of the table. Rhys, noticing that she was wearing one of his mother's dresses, choked back his emotion, "We'll come and find you later."
Azriel moved to y/n, using his hand at the small of her back to guide her to a place where they could both stretch their wings and descend upon the city, leaving Feyre caressing Rhys' hand in knowing as his gaze slid to Mor, "That was the dress my mother made for her, she had always wanted to see her grown up. Where did you find it?"
"A cousin never shares their secrets."
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The City of Starlight was more magnificent than the place y/n had often dreamt of.
Despite everyone gazing at her like she was the most brilliant jewel in the pile, y/n didn't feel under inspection or threatened, she felt safe and happy, and when children chasing ribbons ran around her legs did she let out the most angelic laugh Azriel had ever heard.
"They love you," he told her after yet another citizen, a old lady with silver hair and waning blue eyes, told y/n of her happiness that the Princess had returned.
Rhys had lifted the veil of illusion the moment she had soared into the city, allowing Velaris to remember what they had lost 500 years ago. It was the least he could do, and luckily the city had been understanding of it, it was to protect the existence of y/n and her power from the rest of the world and those who would seek to harness her. They were overjoyed to put it in simply terms.
"They love the idea of me," she told the Shadowsinger plainly, picking daisies from the grass and twiddling the stalks in her fingers, "They love the power I can offer to protect them. They don't know me enough to love me."
Azriel hummed, "I think you forget that you did spend two years here, that's more than enough time for anyone to fall in love."
They had walked through the city for most of the afternoon, Azriel pointing out bookshops and bakeries that she'd love before leading her down to the Sidra and finding a place to sit along the cobbled shores.
"I was a baby, Azriel," she told him with a faint roll of the eye before the bubbling waters caught her attention as they glided over the rocks.
"A beautiful one if their words are anything to go by," Azriel leant back on his elbows, hair glistening in the sun and chin nodding to the small group of fae across the water, whispering and glancing in their direction.
Smirking, y/n tore her gaze away from the eyes swarming her and turned to Azriel, scanning him in his loose silken shirt and matching black briefs, "Are you calling me beautiful?"
Eyes widening, Azriel's lips parted as his throat fumbled, and it took him a moment to control himself, "You are beautiful," he cocked his head to the side, eyes lazily dragging down her figure causing a blush the creep upon her cheeks, "But you already knew that."
"Smooth recovery," she averted his gaze, missing the grin that tugged at his lips whilst his shadows slithered along the grass toward her, leaping up to graze at the bottom curve of her wings.
The sun was falling in the sky, and the faint sparkle of stars began to litter canvas above which was turning from blue to orange to purple. Citizens had began to gather their things and return to their homes and shops long ago, and Azriel and y/n had watched silently as they did, idly watching the world go by and forgetting what bloodshed loomed for them in the nearby future.
Scraping stones begged their attention from behind, and the shadow of wings cast itself over their close forms. Peering upward, she found Rhys gazing down upon her, and he silently offered her a hand to bring her to her feet, glancing between her and Azriel who had moved closer to her.
"I was thinking that we could go for dinner. Everyone else is already at the restaurant," he folded her hand into the crook of his elbow, "Who knows what tomorrow may bring?"
"I suppose we have to make the most of every moment we have," she smiled into Rhys' embrace as he pressed his lips into her hairline.
And, Azriel couldn't help but linger back, not wanting to get between the eclectic adoration that flowed between them as Rhys led her through the winding streets of the city, laughing and doting on her as much as he could during the short walk.
Stopping at the steps of the restaurant, Rhys ushered her inside, watching her from his space as her face lit up at the sight of his family bickering around a large stone table surrounded by candles. Then he turned, eyes scanning Azriel's face which was directed toward her, and when Azriel caught his eyes he felt relief at the slight nod given to him, not one of thanks or understanding.
But one of approval.
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Author's Note
I'm really loving writing this so far - sorry if it feels a little slow, just trying to establish all the love and relationships 🥺🫶🏻
Also still not able to properly tag some people, how do I fix this 😭😭
Taglist
@userxs-blog @riorgail @fandomarchiveilyd @booksandbud4me @acourtofbatboydreams @sidthedollface2 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @tenshis-cake @rcarbo1 @doodlebugg16-blog @snoopyspace @superspideyparker @wolvesnravens @acourtofbooksandshadows @i-am-infinite @hannzoaks @evergreenlark @quinzzelx @fuckingsimp4azriel @laurzwrites @astrxbabx @michellexgriffey @just-here-reading @cherry-cin @jesskidding3 @yearninglustfully @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor
233 notes · View notes
haodarling · 7 months ago
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Like the Movies
about: a series of my favorite movies reimagined with (some of) the boys of seventeen.
notes: the movies inspired the fics, please don’t expect it to be an exact word for word reenactment of the films; i had a couple of ideas and decided to roll with it. unfortunately i will not be doing all of the boys as some of them are key side characters unless specifically requested! the stories are interrelated in some way; it won’t be explicitly stated but try and look for crumbs!
also! most if not all the y/ns in the fics are directly stated to be female due to some of the stories heavily relying on y/n’s biological sex to be female.
currently working on: pretty girl !
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Pretty Girl
based on: Legally Blonde
pairing: law student! joshua x heiress! reader // ex boyfriend! wen junhui x reader
synopsis: the youngest of 3 successful sisters, no one expects you to accomplish anything save for sitting still and looking pretty, but after your boyfriend dumps you for a much more educated girl, you get your eldest sister to pay your way into harvard law where you meets joshua hong, who does not seem to appreciate how lightly you takes things.
tropes: opposites attract, popular girl x nerd boy but with a twist, they start off at the wrong foot, it gets resolved, joshua will say hurtful things along the way though
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A Sweet Haven
based on: Notting Hill // Maid in Manhattan
pairing: golden retriever!mingyu x single mother!y/n
synopsis: never in your wildest dreams did you expect acclaimed actor, kim mingyu, to stumble into your quaint bakery and ask you to hide him from the onslaught of paparazzi. what began as one chance encounter turns into constant visits to you and your daughter. but just as you begin to see a future between the two of you, the reminder of his fame and reputation hovers over the both you.
tropes: forbidden romance, single mom! reader, mingyu’s an actor, secret relationship
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Hot and Cold
based on: Pride and Prejudice // Emma
pairing: wonwoo x reader, seokmin x oc
synopsis: as the eldest child of your family, you have only ever wanted the best for your siblings. so when your sister confesses to being in love with someone— you do everything you can to make sure they both end up together… but the infuriatingly handsome brother of your sister’s beau seems to be against the union altogether.
tropes: enemies to lovers, they really don’t like each other at first, just two people being protective of their younger siblings, elder sibling trauma written by an only child LOL
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Mr and Mrs. Choi
based on: Mr. and Mrs. Smith
pairing: agent!scoups x agent!reader
synopsis: you and seungcheol (code name: scoups) have a bit of a work place rivalry going on, and the agency wants to put you both to the test by pairing you up with each other in a mission that would determine who gets the promotion… the catch being that you both would have to play a married couple.
tropes: rivals to lovers, technically also coworkers to lovers, fake marriage au, a lot of back and forths, cheol is a teasing lil shit with y/n, will very much include the old “the target is gonna notice we’re tailing him hurry let’s make out”
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Love Me Tomorrow
based on: 2 week’s notice // flipped
pairing: jeonghan x reader
synopsis: your friends and coworkers say you’re foolish for harboring a crush on the worst man ever; aka your boss. yoon jeonghan is a successful ceo, and he is well aware of the hold he has over you; often using you to perform minute and tiresome errands. but what happens when you finally draw the line?
tropes: unrequited love (initially), she fell first but he fell harder, hannie’s an asshole here ngl, he gets better i promise, y/n is on a path to self love, when hannie realized he loves her he’s so pathetic i swear
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Something Borrowed, Something New
based on: My best friend’s wedding
pairing: minghao x extraverted!reader, slight vernon x reader, and slight minghao x oc
synopsis: you love your fiancee you truly do, and you were very sure he felt the same long enough to propose to you; but he’s quiet, and well- you’re not. you know this, and so you always make sure you are not too spirited in days where he doesn’t feel it. but when he runs into his old college friends, you could not help but notice how he becomes a lot livelier with his childhood best friend.
tropes: established relationship, opposites attract, golden retriever y/n and black cat minghao, angst, like a lot of it, hao has a girl best friend :(( , two people who don’t communicate because of their own personal reasons
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wheneclipsefalls · 1 month ago
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Grovel - Part 4
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Pairing: Adult Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader
Summary: How much more of this can you take?
Warnings: aged up characters, swearing, MDNI, sexual tension, lust, slight angst, mentions of death and blood, war trauma, past cheating, etc.
A/N: Honestly not super happy with how the sentences turned out but writing the actual content of this chapter was so much fun. I hope you enjoy:)
Grovel Masterlist
yawne: love/beloved
paskalin: honey (endearing)
kelku: home/hut
tiyawn: star/little star (endearing)
mawey: be calm
tewng: loincloth
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The sun barely crested over the trees before you had set out of your kelku in search of the youngest Omatikaya prince. You had been afforded very little sleep even once in your own bed after spending the night with Lo’ak. Too many images of what had occurred in your drunken state last night had been painted in your mind and it had your stomach tied in knots. The worst part of this torture was the fact that you knew less about your drunken mishaps than anyone else.
 And Lo’ak….
Oh Lo’ak he didn’t even bother to fill you in on the details properly. 
So once you had tossed in your hammock for the thousandth time in the late morning you let out a groan, rushed to get ready for the day and went hunting for that smirking Sully. That lighting fire had only squandered for a moment when you looked over at the magical music device he had left with that note.
Although early in the morning, he was sure to be in the midst of some sort of morning Omatikaya politics or hunting party. You found him surrounded by a few males for an early breakfast around a fire. You were, however, surprised to find Neteyam already there and dressed. After his ‘activities’ with Talu last night you would have supposed he’d require further rest. 
Instead, it was him that nudged Lo’ak’s arm as you came into view, tilting his head in your direction to point you out. Blood still rushing at your ears and tail swatting back and forth like a whip, you stared the prince down.
“You.” One deadly point at him and then the next at the ground in front of you. Almost as if calling an animal to heel. The venom in your voice was enough to have the other males letting out teasing jeers and shoving at him.
Although swatting back at the other males for their jests and comments, Lo’ak’s expression remained soft and calm as he approached you obediently.
“Good morning, yawne.” 
Rolling onto the balls of your feet you peeked up over his right shoulder back at the group near the fire. Far too close for comfort. You’d suffered enough embarrassment already without another nosy party there to witness. So in one move you snatched his wrist and pulled the towering male deeper into the forest. 
Although surprised, Lo’ak didn’t lag behind for long. He allowed himself to be dragged until you’d chosen a suitable private location to lay into him. 
“Why do I get the feeling I’m in trouble?” The corner of his lips turned up even as he ticked his head to the side and observed your heated composure. 
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You demanded, swatting at his arm. Lo’ak didn’t flinch. 
“You are going to have to be more specific than that, paskalin.”
“Decided to leave out some precious details last night, huh?” Your tail curved around your upper thigh, ears pointed and alert as you stared up at him. “You can quit this oblivious facade. Talu filled me in on everything.”
“Ah, I see.” He sighed, those dark brows raising as he rested his hands on his hips. “Well truthfully, yawne, I figured you wouldn’t want to talk about the kiss. I thought if you remembered you would insist on us pretending it never happened but if you want to dig into it then-”
“What?” You cut him off, eyes blown wide and heart already thumping at a new speed. “A kiss. Great Mother, what are you talking about?” You were certain this was just another game Lo’ak was playing with you but when your ire didn’t die down and his face dropped slightly, that theory began to look less promising. 
“Oh, so she didn’t tell you everything then.” His ears tucked back, but there was intrigue still dancing in his eyes. It always sparkled beneath those dark lashes when his attention landed on you. It gave the feeling of being put under those microscopes they used at the human outpost. The undeniable heat of his studying gaze. 
“I am not in the mood for jokes, Lo’ak.” You ground out. 
“Really? But you’ve been so pleasant this morning-”
“Shut up.” Hardly the comeback you were looking for but despite the sharp sting to your words, Lo’ak only struggled harder not to grin back at you. You were ready to tear his eyes out, or maybe your own depending on the validity of his claim, and yet all he could do was joke at a time like this. “You should have told me everything last night.” 
Lo’ak’s half grin slowly lowered into a thoughtful pout. You veered your attention away from those plump lips, afraid of the way your imagination was already piecing together what this supposed kiss would have looked like. 
“You’re right, yawne, as usual. I only thought you were already a bit embarrassed so I didn’t believe adding the kiss to the list would help matters.” 
“Embarrassed? What by the stars above do I have to be embarrassed of?” A lot. Oh so much that you had to spend half of your energy just pushing away the leering weight of thinking about what drunken acts you had gotten up to. 
“Nothing at all.” His hands raised in surrender before reaching back to take down his tied hair. “Attraction is a perfectly natural feeling and so is acting upon it.” Lo’ak casually drawled, skilled fingers now working to gather his hair into a low bun at the back of his head. 
“Attraction?!” It came out as almost a squawk, voice cracking in the midst. “Attraction to what? To you?”
Your tone did little to ruffle his feathers as he finished securing his hair and nodded calmly. “Like I said, natural.” 
“I am not attracted to you!” Heat rose beneath your skin, cheeks sure to already be inflamed into a deep blush. You prayed that Lo’ak would read that purplish hue as evidence of the rage you felt instead of this ‘embarrassment’ he claimed to know so much about. 
“I’m not asking you to admit it.” Those signature beads dangled as he casually leaned against the nearest tree. 
“Well good because there is nothing to admit.” You fired back, hands balling into fists. 
“Alright.” 
“Good.”
“Good.” He echoed back. Lo’ak pushed off the tree before striding past you. The perfect opportunity to escape and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing after him.
“I’m being serious.” You insisted, frown deepening when you heard a deep chuckle emanate from his chest. 
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise from you, paskalin.” 
Your heated glare sought to burn a hole into the back of his head but keeping up with Lo’ak’s natural pace was a struggle that made your intimidation efforts that much less effective as one of his strides equaled about three of yours. It felt like hobbling after the taller male instead of the hunt you were aiming for. 
“But you don’t believe me.” 
Lo’ak twirled on his heel suddenly. Your skid to a stop was anything but graceful as you almost crashed straight into his chest. Four fingered hands went to steady you, but you pushed them away. However, with crossed arms you refused to retreat out of his space, determined to establish some sort of dominance in this conversation that has taken such a turn. 
“Why do you care so much if I believe you?” He mimicked your posture, crossed arms showing off the veins that traveled up that swirling blue skin into pronounced biceps. 
“Because…” You sputtered for some sort of reasonable explanation, but he had brought up a point. He was right, there was no logical reason for you to care about his opinion. So what if he had a big head about it, most days you just wanted him to leave you alone. “Because you’re wrong.” 
“Am I?”
“Yes!”
“Last night you told me I smelled good seven different times.” A lump formed in your throat, eyes desperately wanting to look anywhere else but him. 
“And you counted it.” You shot back, fighting the urge to shift your weight from foot to foot. 
“You’re right I did.” Came his immediate reply and somehow his instant acceptance of your accusation was that much more infuriating. “But that’s the difference between me and you, paskalin.”
He took one stride forward, but it was enough to close the last piece of distance between you two. “I’m not afraid to admit that I want you. Neither am I afraid to admit that I enjoyed the way you played with my hair. I savored every moment that you willingly sat there on my lap and when you suddenly leaned in to seal the night with a kiss, I couldn’t stop myself from kissing back.” Lo’ak didn’t touch you, he knew better than that, but with his shadow falling over your smaller form and purred words dripping from his lips it may as well have been as strong as skin up skin. 
“And yet you have the nerve to say you didn’t take advantage of me.”
“It was one kiss. I pulled away the second you did. And when your sister said it was time to turn in for the night I had every intention of walking you home myself and leaving you alone. But you had other plans. And yawne, I’m trying my best to behave for you but I’m also a male. A male that can barely breathe when I’m around your sweet scent so when the woman of my dreams is clinging to my arm and sweetly asking to stay in my kelku where she feels more safe, I tuck her into my hammock without complaint.” 
Every muscle in your body seemed to lock up, accurately aware of the last few inches between your chest and his stomach. Even more so strung up by the shameless confession falling from those perfect lips. 
“Is that the truth you were looking for?” He asked, one brow arching. 
A long pause hung between you before your motor functions returned back online. “I never said I want you.”
“Your scent does the talking for you.” 
Your right hand balled up into a fist again, almost tempted to deliver a right hand hook that ironically Lo’ak himself had taught you as children, but then you felt the dampness between your legs. You were appalled to find that even in your anger, your body had fallen prey to the weight of his words and presence. Even Lo’ak’s own essence that now surrounded you like a warm cloak. 
“You ignorant ass!” The insult was accompanied by one push to his chest that had him stepping back immediately. You were sprinting in the other direction before he could get in another word. 
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Lo’ak supposed he had no right to be surprised when you were unreachable for the rest of the day. Perhaps it was not his place to push you earlier but he also couldn’t find it in himself to keep from being anything but honest when it came to you. He knew better than to believe that one night in his kelku and a gift or two would win back your trust. The long game was a road paved by immense patience. A trait that was not his favorite to exhibit. 
However, patient or not, you deserved to know the depth of his feelings. You may not have been willing to accept them yet, but that wouldn’t stop him from expressing them all the same. Bottling it up only made his tossing and turning at night all that much worse. Especially now that your scent lingered in his kelku. It was a new form of delicious torture to press his nose into the blanket that was still drenched in your natural perfume.  
Neteyam encouraged him to continue being diligent and patient, perhaps the only piece of advice that kept him from searching for you when he found your kelku empty upon dropping off your dinner. Perhaps he had a point, even if he were to find you it was obvious that the only thing he could expect from your company was snide comments and harsh glares. And yet, Lo’ak couldn’t help but feel a craving even for that. 
So when plans changed the following day and Lo’ak was invited to cliff jump with a group you were meant to be present with, he couldn’t jump fast enough at the opportunity. A storm was meant to be rolling in a few days earlier than anticipated so it was the last opportunity they would have for a while to dive safely. Meaning that some projects were set to the side temporarily. 
He should have known better than to expect you with the group of friends the next morning. Neteyam, Talu, and even Kiri present but not you. When asked about your absence Talu had simply rolled her eyes and claimed she had done everything in her power to get you out of the house for some fun. To play hooky just this once. 
And immediately Lo’ak knew where to find you. Ignoring the protests at his bowing out, Lo’ak gave a quick wave goodbye and bounded through the forest towards his destination. 
And for once, you weren’t difficult to track down. 
Norm had asked for a group to start dismantling one of the last surviving air crafts left behind by the RDA. He wanted to get it foraged for any remaining supplies that could be of use, however, the vehicle was left in a precarious condition. Hanging high in the trees above, it looked more like a crushed tin can than the death machine he knew it was during the heat of battle. Pulling it apart to even examine for anything salvageable would take a whole group of Na’vi an afternoon. 
And yet, there you were. Alone and cursing under your breath as you tugged at the crushed side door with all your might. Lo’ak stifled a chuckle when he saw the position you were in, legs wrapped around a higher tree branch so that you could swing upside down and try to access the left side of the aircraft. 
That threatening laughter subsided into a different feeling when he caught a glimpse of the way your beaded top barley clung to your chest in this upside down position. Only a few beads hanging loosely to cover your perked nipples. 
Gulping down the lump in his throat, Lo’ak fought the urge to adjust himself in his loincloth. No doubt, you wouldn’t take kindly to his presence in the first place, let alone any evidence of his sudden arousal. 
“I knew I’d find you here.” He called from below. 
He was caught between guilt and amusement when his sudden comment had you losing grip on the branch with a surprised squeak and sliding across the top of the aircraft. His smile dropped when you peeked up from the other side of the machine and leveled him with a fiery glare. 
“Aren’t you meant to be jumping off a cliff, dumb ass?” He heard your voice echo from above as he made quick work of scaling up the tall tree. The moment his head peeked up over the last branch, small hands scrambled to push at his own. “Go back! I don’t want you here.” 
Your feeble attempts to push him off were borderline adorable as he easily lifted himself up over the last hurdle and sat back on his haunches beside you. 
“You might have a hard time cracking this thing open on your own.” 
A muscle in your jaw ticked, tempting him to run the pad of his finger along your delicate features. God, even when you looked ready to beat him off with a stick you were nothing short of exceptional. 
“Not that it will stop you.” He added.
“What makes you so sure?” You challenged, rising to your feet swiftly to climb back to the other side of the aircraft. Lo’ak followed, as if drug by an invisible cord tying himself to you. 
“Because I know you.”
The comment earned him a scoff, your tail snapping back at him when his hovering got too close. 
“You knew me as a kid, Lo’ak. I’ve grown.” 
“Undoubtedly.” A few brisk strides spun him in front of you to block the path. “Grown more capable. Grown more independent.” Lo’ak paused, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “More beautiful.” He whispered. 
“Grown less gullible.” You shot back, causing him to stumble as you pushed at his shoulders to get him out of the way. He watched you pass, resisting the urge to keep himself within your bubble. Distance may make the heart grow fonder but no one told him that distance from you would drive him into madness. 
“Still just as stubborn as ever.” 
You resumed your position on the other side of the aircraft, this time ignoring the taller shadow that followed your every step. With precarious footing you were able to grip the edges of the crushed door but could only apply a small amount of force without losing your balance. 
“Yes yes I know, Lo’ak. I’m a stick in the mud. Don’t know when to quit and run off for fun and games with the others. I believe Talu has already beat you to the punch on this lecture. I’m not interested in a repeat. Not all of us can be a social butterfly like you.” 
For a moment Lo’ak was caught in the whiplash of your self deprecating misunderstanding and a comment towards him that seemed to almost be a complement. But then your left foot was slipping and his body was reacting before his mind could catch up. One rushed leap heaved himself into your space, one hand gripping the rack atop the roof of the aircraft while his other arm slunk around your waist to pull you back into place. 
Your smaller hands threatened to break his focus as they willingly clung to his broad shoulders for support. 
“You are nothing like me, tiyawn.” Those oh so kissable soft lips turn down into almost a pout. “And that’s what I love about you.” 
Ear tucked back against your luscious hair and tail curling around your own ankle, the surprise at his comment gave him enough time to gently lift your body to tuck against his with one arm before carefully dispositing you to a safe perch on his left. Thoughts formed more clearly without your mouth watering essence creating a fog around them. 
And yet, even staring at those beautiful golden eyes that were now relaxed from your usual glare, shot in his direction was too much to handle if he had any hope of expressing himself with more than one syllable responses. By Eywa, why did the Great Mother create such an exquisite creature to torture him with?
He turned, setting himself into a different foothold that allowed him to slowly start peeling back the thin crushed metal. Every muscle tensed as he forced it back inch by inch but the harder fight was keeping his lips from turning up into a crooked grin when he felt your intent gaze burning through him. A new spice nipped at your signature scent. Just a whiff of your arousal was enough to feel a renewed hardness between his own legs. 
“You may not be some exuberant social butterfly. You may not run after danger and adventure at a rate only skxawngs like me can manage.” The metal pulled back another inch, the sounding screech almost covering up your short mixture of a laugh forced into a scoff. “But I could never be you, yawne.” He paused, daring to meet your eyes. 
“So brave. So resilient. I’ve heard the stories.” The endless hours you had spent in the healers tent as wave after wave of mauled Na’vi came through those doors. There was not an ounce of him that could even feign surprise when he heard it was you that had spent the longest cleaning and stitching wounds, rebreaking bones back into position, sometimes even scrambling to rush that tent down the stream an extra mile as the bombs rained closer. 
“I think you have me confused with someone else. Perhaps one of your other girlfriends that in fact stormed into battle with a weapon in hand. I am no brave warrior.” 
Lo’ak’s eyebrows scrunched. He couldn’t find it within himself to even care for the brief snide in your comment when faced with your wavering confidence on display. You were never one to hide your emotions well, despite what you would like to believe. The mask you wore was always cracked, leaving him a sliver to peek into what plagues your mind. 
“You fought just as hard as them. Simply in a different way.” 
“Lo’ak there is no need to shower me with flattery. I know that I stayed on the sidelines while they faced death. I am no fighter. I was never meant to be and I accept that.” 
Something seized in his chest, pushing his body into motion until he was back into your space, eyes bearing down at you with an intensity he hoped would burn through your stubborn defenses. 
“No one faced death the way you did, yawne. The others may have gone into the heat of battle knowing the potential consequences of doing so but you were among those that dealt with those worst case consequences day in and day out. You had a front row seat to loss and turmoil. Men and women’s lives hanging in the balance, that decision sometimes being made by the rush of your own hands. There is nothing about it that remotely resembles sitting on the sidelines and I don’t know what how you fucking did it.” His lungs seized for air. “I’ve had more than my fair share of war, but I could never imagine plucking up the courage to face that terror.” 
It was only after the spill of words that Lo’ak could recognize the way his blood raced. The heat that now had his tail flashing with an adrenaline that he could almost attribute to furry. Looking down at your flushed expression, lips parted and momentary disbelief at his sudden confession, he couldn’t blame himself either for harboring that anger. 
How could you not see what he did? Surely after all that you’ve endured, you should be the one spitting this speech confidentiality back at him. Telling him off for even attempting to court such a fearless goddess as yourself, and you would be right. And yet, all you could do is stare back at him with a wide eyed expression and the wheels in your head turning to keep up. 
“I’m sorry.” That timid whisper broke the silence and it was only then that Lo’ak had the sense to release his clenched jaw. You weren’t apologizing for thinking such things but rather for getting him so riled up and that had him drawing back within an instant. 
“No I…” He gaped for the right words, bottom lip tucking between his sharp teeth. “I simply…” He paused, brows pulled together as you looked up at him with curious eyes. “I wish you could understand all the pieces that make you so magnetic, yawne. I have never met someone who cares as much as you. Utterly devoted to the people, offering your whole self to a cause without a second thought. You’re not a stick in the mud, tiyawn. You’re a rare gem.”
It was not his intention to render you speechless but Lo’ak couldn’t claim to be against the view it gave. The tense scrunch of your features relaxed until those beautiful eyes were peering up at him with the sparkle of a rushing river beneath sunlight. A certain softness fell over your countenance, one that was made even more breathtaking when a pink glow blossomed over your cheeks. 
The trance you had fallen over could only last so long before you were muttering about getting back to work and sheepishly dipping past his shoulder. His lips parted for a just moment in search of digging into what change he had just witnessed but he quickly stopped himself. Lo’ak knew when it was best not to push his luck. You allowing him to stay and work was already more than he would have guessed to receive a few minutes prior, so he took that miracle in stride. 
However, there was nothing to sate the side of him that sparked with curiosity and desire when it came to you. He jabbered on about anything and everything he could think of just to shoot at a chance you would have something to say in response. For a while it seemed that nothing could steal your attention away from the task it was pinpointed on, that is until a sudden burst of frustration had you slamming your fist against the curved metal and cutting off Lo’ak’s current Metkayina story. 
“Stupid sky demon technology.” You muttered with a dark glint, trying once again to claw at the metal edge and pull back with all your might. 
The majority of your joint efforts to dismantle the aircraft had come from Lo’ak’s own hands. Meanwhile you had stubbornly continued to struggle at pulling back even the slightest slab of metal. You were being too hard on yourself. His hands were not only larger and protected by the rough calluses he had gained handling weaponry and scavenging around hard ocean rock, but he also had the prior knowledge of sky people weapons manufacturing on his side. He knew which areas were weak points that he could exploit and which pieces were unlikely to budge without better tools. 
Your hands were soft and nimble, perfectly designed for climbing trees and stitching up wounds. Designed perfectly for so many wondrous things that had him staying up at night and fighting the tent in his loincloth. 
Shaking the rotting thoughts from his head, Lo’ak cautiously shifted forward to gently pry your hands from the sharp edge of metal. One more tug and it was sure to draw blood. 
“Mawey, we will get it eventually-”
“There is no time for eventually!” You shot back. The soft tuff of your tail whipped at his cheek when you abruptly spun on your axis to walk past him. A shiver raced all the way down to the tip of his own tail. “It is supposed to be finished today. I do not have another day to spare. With the healer’s tent still half broken and so many injured still waiting on a new batch of medicine…I…I can’t…” The sentences broke into choppy waves as your jaw clenched and tail snapped frantically in the wind. 
He sensed the best thing he could do was silently wait as you spouted out your stresses into a jumbled mess. 
“There is still so much left to fix!” And although you didn’t specify he knew you were no longer just talking about the crumpled aircraft you had yet to dismantle. The war had left a mark on the village not only emotionally but physically as well. Homes were being rebuilt, roles restructured with so many gaps left from those now in the arms of Eywa forever. The list could trail on forever. Knowing you, there was undoubtedly already a list stamped at the forefront of your mind to adhere to. 
But the village would be rebuilt.
The People would heal, they already were. 
It was the emotional scars you harbored that stung under such uncertain times. The same sting that had you wound into a tight coil. 
“I just…I can’t…” You let that thought drop with a huff, small hands now pressed over your heated face. 
Wind whistled through the trees, blanketing the prolonged moment of silence. 
“Do you know what the issue is?” Lo’ak carefully leaned back against the metal side. The look that you sent through parted fingers told him there was not a universe where you would ever be interested in what he thought the issue was. Regardless, he took that lack of response as an opportunity to continue. “You are too tense.” 
You scoffed, arms dropping to cross over your chest. 
“Everyone needs a break, yawne.” The heat in your eyes tried and failed to scorch him as he glided forward across the branch. “And you,” His bent knuckle tucked under your chin. “You more than anyone, need a release.” 
That double meaning did not bode well with you. His hand was slapped away just as the pink darkened across your cheeks. 
“Let me guess, this is your charming way of offering such services?” 
“What services do you mean, paskalin?” Lo’ak couldn’t keep the comment from his lips if he tried. Yet seeing your reaction, he couldn’t fathom why he would want to. Pointed ears on alert and a burning fire in your expression that was all the more lovely than the stressed tension you had worn moments prior. He meant what he said about your responsible nature being admirable, but it was obvious that a little fun could do you a lot of good. “Any service you require. I’m always happy to help you release that tension.” 
Swiftly you ducked under his arm and skated past him. 
“Handing out offers like that so freely, surely I would need to schedule an appointment several moon cycles in advance. I think I will pass.” 
It’s meant to be another stab at his younger reputation as a womanizer, but Lo’ak couldn’t help but revel in the jealousy that dripped from your voice. Subtle yet oh so sweet. 
“No need for jealousy, tiyawn. The offer is yours alone.” He carefully crafted his path to let your arms brush as he passed by. You must have felt the surge of electricity too as you halted in place and faced the male now towering in front of you. “Everyone knows that I belong to you.”
A hitch of breath so subtle that his ears had to strain to hear it, but present all the same. 
“I am at your disposal.”
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He was taunting you. 
Or well…he had been since the beginning you supposed, but somehow now it seemed to actually have a physical effect on you. 
He had offered to provide a release from your stresses, not the first time either, yet now that idea was persistent in bouncing around your head constantly.  It roused a heat to your cheeks and between your thighs at the most inconvenient of times. You had found Lo’ak attractive upon the first time seeing him back from Awa’atlu, begrudgingly albeit, but now that the idea of not only looking but touching such an exquisite form had been planted, there was no escaping your body's reaction. 
There were a plethora of reasons you could have been feeling this way and you were eagerly holding on to every single excuse you could think of. You repeated that list in your mind over and over when you lay awake at night in your hammock, pulse rushing and temple sweaty after having experienced yet another erotic dream where Lo’ak had inserted himself as the leading star. 
It was the stress. It was never his place to point out but Lo’ak was right in assuming that there was far too much tension and anxiety riddling your every day routine. It felt as if there was always something being put on your plate. Even when there wasn’t you were sure to find another task to busy yourself with that felt like the most pressing matter possible. So when you tossed and turned at night, there was no easing the coiled muscles that made your shoulders rise up to your ears. A list of responsibilities were constantly on your mind, to the point where you even found yourself grateful for the consistent meals that Lo’ak left at your doorstep. Eywa, knows you would have nearly starved without it.
Even further, there was a new development in your home. That development was named Neteyam. Neteyam who was eager to fill his days with Talu’s company and even more than eager to show his appreciation of giving her time in a very…physical manner. She spent half the nights in his own kelku but your older sister still insisted on coming home frequently to keep you company, at least make it feel like she still lived there. 
However, part of you wished she would simply move into the Sully male’s kelku just so you wouldn’t have to hear their very prolonged goodbyes that consisted of far too much tongue and far too little clothing. You could never mistake Neteyam’s taller shadow casted on the privacy curtains as they attempted to sneak inside together. As two individuals that claimed to be accomplished warriors, there was no way they could truly believe this lack of stealth to mask their rendezvous from you. Or perhaps, much like his younger brother, Neteyam did not care to be modest in his sexual activities, wearing it as a trophy like the cocky bastard he was. 
So there you had been left, splitting your nights between dreaming of Lo’ak in your bed, running through the constant checklist of responsibilities, and hearing the damning evidence of Neteyam bringing your sister to a higher bliss over and over. 
All things considered, anyone else in your position would have crumbled by now. So what if your primal nature had come out to the surface under the recent pressures? A little arousal was normal for someone your age and by no means going to be the thing that crushed your logic to dust. 
Avoiding Lo’ak had become a normal part of your routine and it had seemed like the most reasonable course to combat these feelings. On your particularly sharp days you managed to go without a glimpse of his face until dinner and even then it was from afar. You figured without any new content to fuel these dreams they would surely putter out and you would be left to focus on more important matters. 
That had not been the case.
Perhaps one of the more foolish decisions you had made because it seemed the longer you spent away from Lo’ak the more instant your body’s reaction would be at the next glimpse of him. Your craving for him only grew as you denied yourself of his presence. Even the short peeks at his smile as he sat around the fire with friends had been enough to feel saliva pooling along your tongue. 
And then there was that first night you had truly seen him dance. With such a long war season having come to a close, impromptu celebrations around the dinner fire had become almost routine. Jake Sully’s youngest son was the furthest from sheepish when it came to starting the vibrant dancing. He jumped at the opportunity, teaching those around him the dances he had learned from the Metkayina. 
And you had to admit…you were a secret fan of the sea people’s version of dancing. The men moved with such force. It provoked a sense of weight in their presence while simultaneously showcasing an admirable flow of grace. The muscle of his thighs were pronounced with every bend and stomp. Those dark tattoos rolled like waves as Lo’ak swished his hips in time with heavy drums. You wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that dark ink. Perhaps see how far those lines traveled beneath his loincloth. 
Feeling utterly mortified by your own silent lust you had tried to draw away from the dancing as soon as you were broken out of trance. Of course, you had not always been successful. More than once, golden eyes had caught your own followed by a four fingered hand reaching out in invitation. 
Never before had your natural desires taken such hold on your everyday life. There had been crushes and even lust before but this felt constant. And watching Lo’ak moving his body with the confidence and charisma you could only dream of having every night, it felt like a personal attack. Every quirk of his lips into a smirk felt directed at you in a display of the conquest he anticipated. 
So your patience had been a little more fried at the start of the next diving lesson. You had hardly heard any of Neteyam or Lo’ak’s directions to the crowd at the beginning of the lesson, too busy staring off into the trees and keeping your teeth from grinding together. 
“Neteyam says you have to slow your heartbeat.” Talu reminded you the next time your head had rushed up from under the water prematurely. Her soft hand gently placed over your chest but her sympathetic smile had only been met with your narrowed eyes and downturned lips. 
“Of course he did.” 
Your voice strained to keep the sarcasm from bleeding in too heavily. It didn’t matter anyways, not when she was already making heart eyes at the future Olo’eyktan from across the way. He took one step in your general direction and you knew then that now was time to escape the barely concealed love fest that was about to take place. 
Ducking beneath the water again you swam in the opposite direction until your lungs were scorched with the need to breathe. Over and over you had tried the exercise only to come up faster each time. 
The lack of sleep was catching up with you, enough to have you stumbling across the slippery rocks and naturally falling into Lo’ak’s arms. Rough hands steadied you back into a standing position, his tail just barely missing a brush of your thigh. He said something, most likely checking to make sure you were alright, but none of it registered. All you could feel was the heat of his skin and that natural musky scent that somehow wafted even stronger when he was soaking wet. 
Your eyes snagged his own for only a second before you were diving back into the cold water. At least beneath the surface you were able to block out the sounds and scents of the day that were too much for you to handle. If only oxygen were not an essential. Then you could stay down here forever. A perfect sanctuary to collect your thoughts. 
The next time you sprung up from the depths you allowed yourself a moment of respite. Heart pounding and lungs seizing you couldn’t imagine holding your breath again. However, without that distraction your eyes naturally wandered to where Lo’ak instructed a Na’vi male from the other side of the small lake. Water dripped from his braids and created a dancing trail down the curve of his spine. 
So much for staying away. It seems that no matter what you did, Lo’ak was there to throw your day off course. Even when he wasn’t there he haunted your dreams. You mentally cursed whatever spell he has managed to put you under. Perhaps dark magic existed after all. 
If only you could have a break, just one moment where you were able to breathe.
A release.
That’s what Lo’ak had said. His head would grow until it exploded if you ever told him he was right, but the fact still remained, you needed relief. And you needed it now. 
Lo’ak was hardly subtle in the way he peeked back at you from the corner of his eye. His ears remained standing tall atop his head and while one could claim it was to listen for possible drowning Na’vi in need, you knew that his senses were attuned only to you. And that thought…
That thought alone made something burn within you. A certain excitement blossomed as your instincts were fueled by the idea of being wanted. So many nights you had spent alone in your hammock while listening to Neteyama and Talu wrestle and giggle next door. So many dreams you had woken up from only to find yourself missing a touch that never existed. 
But here was a male in his prime and he wanted you.
And, by the stars above, you couldn’t help but secretly admit that you wanted him too. 
Why not let him sate your desires? After all, was he not the one that put you into this hazy state? Dash logic to the side and forget the consequences that would come later, it was your turn to escape the pressure around you and get lost in the strong arms of a Sully male. 
Lo’ak spotted you before the water line had even lowered down to your hips. A part of you felt bad when all it took was one look his way and he was already neglecting the student in front of him.
Everyone knows I belong to you
 You briefly heard him jumble together some messy instructions and an excuse before water was sloshing behind you. He at least had the decency to wait a few moments after you had exited the lake before trailing after.
Adrenaline pulsed through you with every step, drowning out the voice of caution long enough for you to round the corner and enter a secluded cave. It raged even higher when you heard smooth footsteps falling closer. 
So when Lo’ak finally rounded the corner himself and you got another glimpse of those charming, yet currently confused, features, something inside of you snapped.
“Are you alri-” 
His question melted against your lips into that sudden kiss. Although initially he let out a small sound of surprise, Lo’ak dove back into the kiss the moment his brain had caught up with what was happening. 
This kiss was nothing like the sweet ones the two of you had shared as children. This was ravenous - addicting. And this time, it was you that now pushed the tension between you from taunt to absolutely filthy territory. 
His lips were softer than you remembered, but created a beautiful contrast to the sharp fangs that threatened to tear into your bottom lip. When Lo’ak nipped at the flesh there in silent question you wasted no time in sliding your tongue past his plush lips. 
Lo’ak tasted of the night breeze and the smoke from communal fires at dinner. Every inhale that you could spare between the battle of your lips and tongue was infused with his unique essence. Night’s whisper that could chill your bones during a summer day. 
It had you fingers tangling quickly into his braids, his own hands gripping at your hips in response. And when you suddenly shoved him back against the cave wall, he submitted to your small show of strength without question. In fact, a delighted grin spread to reveal those white teeth and an animalistic glint in his eye. 
Whatever bug you had caught from him, lighting your primal desires with no bounds, it seemed he had caught it too. Nothing but pure hunger and desperation in his countenance, all signs of surprise or concern washed away by the cave’s shadows. 
He burned for you just as much as you did him. And a part of you, perhaps a selfish part at that, yearned to see if he was suffering even more than you have been. 
So when you dove back in to reconnect your lips with ferver, your right hand caught his left wrist before it could land back on your waist. Pushing your body flush against his, you could feel the ripple of tension across his abdomen and shoulders, but he showed no signs of rebellion when you pressed his hand back against the cave wall. 
His right hand mirrored the placement on the other side of him, nails digging into the rock. 
In no universe would you have a chance of overpowering him physically. Neither did your actions exhibit much true force in the first place, but Lo’ak allowed you to wrestle him into your desired position. 
Everybody knows I belong to you.
I belong to you.
He had every chance to spin the situation to his advantage, to finally take what he claimed to have been craving for years. But instead, it was you that got to take. Everything he had offered for you on a silver platter. 
You hadn’t meant for it to be a test, but regardless he had passed with flying colors. His patience was rewarded when you dragged his left hand back to your hips and released it to explore. You had some exploring of your own to do, lips brushing down the column of his throat while finally running your knuckles over the dark lines of his tattooed sides. 
The contrast of his calloused hands mapping out your soft skin was maddening. It had been a long time since someone had touched you in this way but you hadn’t realized how desperate you had become for a foreign touch. Or more specifically, for his touch. So confident and smooth yet voracious when he sought to leave the imprint of his fingertips along your hips and waist.  
“Fuck yawne.” His voice was wrapped with a gravelly timbre. One that traveled straight to your core. 
Such deliciously sweet torment he suffered as you bit harshly over his pulse, but Lo’ak blossomed like a flower beneath it. You could feel the way it took everything within him to not pin you to the ground and take what his body has been begging for. It was almost a more mouth watering display of strength to watch him contain his natural brawn with the veins in his arms popping, than experience the ease at which he could manhandle you. 
Leaving marks along his throat was not enough anymore. It seemed this game was creating a specific suffering for you as well, the rush of your own arousal becoming borderline painful to endure. He was eager when you tugged him down for another kiss. His knees bent slightly and back curved in order to accommodate the vast height difference. 
If you decided to, would he let you push him down onto his knees. A mighty warrior of both land and sea gazing up at you from a place between your thighs. His tongue only a few inches away from where you wanted it most.
The thought had your head spinning and nails digging into his shoulder blades. Lo’ak welcomed every increase of passion with just as much enthusiasm to reciprocate. However, you needed him closer. Needed to intertwine your bodies until there was no telling where you ended and he began. 
Without pulling away from the kiss you steadied your hands on his shoulders and bent your knees to jump. He took the silent cue in stride, managing to capture your waist in his hands just before you leaped. 
You felt as light as a feather being carried by the wind as he slowly lowered your body to slide along his chest and stomach until your legs could slink around his trimmed waist. There was no rush in the action, because for him there wasn’t any physical strain either. 
He dared to push his luck just an inch further. Four fingered hands smoothed down the curve of your spine before settling at the beginning of your backside’s curve. Permission was given in the form of your tongue swirling around his devilishly. And the Omatikaya warrior did not need to be told twice before he was sinking them down further and gripping a cheek in each hand. 
Your smaller hands gripped like claws in his ebony braids. And when you tugged back on them without warning, breaking the kiss, a wide grin spread over his features, accompanied by a husky laugh. Lo’ak Sully was not simply tolerating your devious attitude. He was fanning the flames to your fire, reveling in that rising heat. 
And heat there was. You could feel your arousal gathering in your tewng like molten lava. Surely he too could feel it seep through the fabric as your core was pressed against his pelvis. It seemed his patience could only go so far, as he used the grip on your ass to rock you down further to where a bulge had formed in his own tewng. 
It felt as if the sparks of a shooting star had rippled between you too. And you were drunk on it. Drunk on him. 
As he released another groan into your mouth, you knew that you would never be able to get enough of Lo’ak Sully. 
“Bro you can’t run off in the middle of a- oh sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Neteyam was turning on his heel before he had properly even entered the cave. He shuffled back out the way he came, but not before sending one last peak over his shoulder. 
Your gaze remained frozen to the space it had snapped to upon being interrupted. Neteyam was gone, but that didn’t change the fact that he saw you grinding against his brother while sticking your tongue down his throat. 
“Just ignore him.” Lo’ak pleaded between the open mouthed kisses he laid over your jaw. 
He groaned for a less pleasant reason this time when you wiggled out of his arms. Both of your labored breathing filled the cave as he waited for your next move. His eyes shined with hope even as his lips were on the verge of turning downwards. 
A similar feeling of disappointment had settled in your gut just as quickly. Regardless, there was no telling what you would do if you stayed one more second locked in this heated moment with him. 
And so with red hot cheeks and a stumble to your step, you sprinted to safety. 
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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago
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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕
🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️
summary - being the granddaughter of the witch that tried to eat hansel and gretel wasn't fun, especially when they come back to seek revenge.
warning - smut, dubcon, swearing, spitting kink, spit roasted, threesome, kidnapping, mentions of death and eating children, mentions of attempted abandonment, oral sex, creampie.
18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.
Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.
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Steve Hansel and Nick Gretel (their parents were hoping for a girl) made a pact years ago to never enter the woods again, not after that fateful day of crossing paths with the witch. When they were kids, their mother had unfortunately passed away, causing their father to find solace in the arms of another. They remembered the wedding clearly, how their hearts nearly beat out of their small chests as their father remarried the woman who would bring hell to their small family.
The hatred that leaked from their stepmother’s flesh could only be noticed by them; their father too blind with heartbreak to even notice. At their age, they were too young to understand why their father would remarry if he wasn’t in love with the woman. But as they grew older, bypassing the trauma they experienced. They began to realise their father was trying to fill a void with the first woman that passed. 
The one thing you should never do in a fairytale is trust the stepmother, the boys learnt this the hard way. Their family wasn’t the wealthiest, having to survive off the small crumbs that they could find or gather. They trusted the woman when she had said that she found some food they could harvest not too far from their home. Steve being the smartest out of the two, made sure to fill his pockets with some rocks, nodding toward his brother Nick before they followed, creating a small path along the way so they wouldn’t get lost. Their stepmother left after distracting them long enough, ensuring that she could finally get rid of the two extra mouths to feed. 
But the boys didn’t worry as the older of the two, gripped his brother’s hand and led him back home. Following the small rocks, and once they stepped foot out of the dreadful woods, they were greeted by their father who had been worried sick. As a small child, you’d think nothing of this, but as their father wrapped the two into a warm, loving hug. Steve looked over his shoulder, resting his chin on his father and smirked at the fuming woman, her lip sneered upwards as she realised her plan had failed. 
Her second attempt had somewhat succeeded; she lured the boys back out with the promise of more food. Steve having not collected any rocks that week, grabbed his leftover bread and decided to use that as their way back home. Yet, he had forgotten that they were not the only hungry creatures living in the woods. As a child when you get lost, you become scared and you don’t know what to do, you expect for an adult to come and save you because how could a child do that for themselves? They weren’t built to protect themselves, they had adults for that, adults to learn from so that they could carry on protecting when they got older. The boys were terrified, but Steve wouldn’t show it because it was then that he realised he would be the one protecting his brother from now. 
Hands gripped tight, they wondered through the woods hoping to find their way back home until a small shout came from Nick’s mouth, Steve’s head whips around and his eyes widen when he sees a house made completely of gingerbread, decorated with the finest lollies, he could feel his mouth water and before he could stop his brother. Nick dropped his hand and took off running toward the delicious looking house. His mouth already opened as he began to nibble on a pillar, his stomach filling immediately. Steve caught up with him and slowly begin to eat as well, what harm could this do? They were kids, living in a poor home with barely any food to keep their stomach from rumbling every five seconds. 
This was where the real horror began, an ugly old woman slammed open the door, screaming at them before she dragged the boys inside. Again, another promises them food, as if there were a giant sign on their head signalling, they needed it. Steve’s eyes darted around the home, connecting with those of a girl’s, her eyes wide and lips pouted. He wondered if the two were related or if she was also kept prisoner as the wicked old witch shoved the boys inside a small cell. She kept mumbling on about filling them up and eating them, causing the boys to try, and come up with a plan to get out of there. 
The witch called upon the youngest, telling him to help her with the oven door. The young girl watched from the corner, observing, and ignoring as the eldest boy tried to get her attention. Her grandmother wouldn’t like that, she wanted the young girl to continue studying their witchcraft, wanting her to continue their legacy if anything ever happened to her. She watched as the oven door managed to open, and her grandmother turned toward her, something that she shouldn’t have done as it distracted her from the boy beside her. 
“Y/–” The witch is cut off, a scream leaving her as Nick pushes her fat body into the oven. The girl too shocked to move, she felt her body freezing up instead of rushing over to help. Nick stumbles towards his older brother, yanking the cell open and running with him as they escape. Steve turns his head, eyes connecting with the young girls, he gulped as her face slowly morphed into an evil look, her eyes narrowed and dark, with a promise that she will one day become strong enough and find those that killed her grandmother. 
As the boys ran for their lives, twists, and turns, narrowly missing the trees and bushes. They somehow managed to exit the woods and head toward their home where their father was, again worried sick for them. He pulled the boys into his arms, holding them tight and listened as they went on about their stepmother and then the witch. None of the boys noticed that the stepmother never made it back, getting lost herself and the father was glad that his boys were home again. Steve and Nick looked at each other and that day they made a pact to never step foot in those woods again. 
That pact was broken as the now men wandered into the woods. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t step foot into these woods again?” Nick sneered, not being able to ignore the chills that spread through his body at the thought. He gripped the sword tight, one that matched his brothers. 
“Father is old, Nick. We are barely passing by as it is, and we need the food. You know that for us to be here again, it is our last resort.” Steve tried getting his brother to understand, he didn’t want to be in these woods either. Not after the look that young girl gave him, after that day he had managed to get the town in on searching for her, of course some believed there was a witch in the woods as their own children have gone missing. But they had all come up empty, which left him to think that they were related. It would explain the look she gave him as they ran out of there. 
After that day, the brothers became a bit darker, smarter. Their minds had twisted, no longer sweet and innocent. Nick grunted, kicking a rock that got in his way and watched as it flew across the ground. “I know, but. It feels…” He paused, not knowing what word to use to describe the feeling. 
“I feel it too.” Nick felt somewhat relieved that his brother could feel what he felt too, but he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “Come on, we better get going before dark.” Steve ushered his brother forward, heading in a direction opposite the one that caused their trauma. They took cautious steps as they wandered through the woods, managing to gather some food and kill some animals.
Nick hit his brother’s arm; eyes wide as he gestures to a house in the middle of nowhere. A replica to the one many years ago. Steve can feel rage build inside him as he stares, wishing the place would burn down. “That can’t be the same one. We went another way!” Nick exclaims, horror filling his bones. 
Steve launches forward, his feet stomping against the dirt and leaves as he heads toward the house. Nick stumbles along, trying to stop his brother even though he feels the same rage deep inside. They both release a breath as they stop in front of the door, the sweet scent of gingerbread filling their senses. Before Steve can knock, the door flings open, and their mouth falls open.
You stand there, your hair perfectly wild and your long black dress falls gracefully while hugging your figure. Your eyes are sharp as you glare at the two men, it was as though they couldn’t breathe. You were so beautiful, practically glowing as you stared them down. “Who do you think you are trespassing onto my property?!” You growl, starring up at the men as they tower over you. You could feel it in your bones, they felt familiar, as if you knew them from somewhere. 
Steve’s eyes widen more than before, your eyes. He had seen those eyes before, his brows furrowed, and the rage continued to build as he connected the dots. You had grown, it wasn’t hard for him to remember those eyes. They had haunted him for years, striking fear deep inside him and his brother. “You! You’re the little girl!” He fumed, only to be held back by his brother as he tries to step forward. 
Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to remember who they are. The men that made you an orphan, causing you to watch as your grandmother cooked. “Oh!” And like that, ever so subtly. Your demeanour changes, a soft smile replacing the frown, your eyes lighten and your back straightens. “You’re the boys that saved me! Come in! Come in!” You usher them in, sneering and coiling on the inside as those words slip from your lips. This was the only way you could get revenge, a life for a life. “I’m just preparing myself some dinner if you two would like to join!” 
Steve and Nick cautiously follow you inside, looking around. “It’s not children, is it?” Nick lets out a small ‘ow’ while rubbing his head when Steve whacks him, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look. Your soft laugh causes them to slightly relax, thinking you might be different.
On the inside, your laugh is cruel, wicked. You couldn’t wait to watch the brothers burn, finally getting the satisfaction after all these years. “Of course not, why would I eat children?” You bat your lashes innocently at him, smirking inside as he blushes. It was now or never, you needed this. “Could you please help me?” You pout, knowing you have the youngest brother in your palm. “I–I’m too weak to open the door… And I usually end up hurting myself.” It was a long shot, maybe they’d connect the dots, maybe they wouldn’t but you were so close.
Nick nods, beginning to head over. A sense of Deja-vu hits him but he ignores it, you seemed so cute and innocent. What harm could someone as tiny as you do? Steve watches, his stomach twists, trying to tell him something and out of the two brothers he listens. You seemed distracted, only watching Nick so he decides to move slow, sneaking behind you. 
You noticed too late, a gasp falls from your lips as Steve grabs hold of you, locking your arms behind your back, pressing against his front. “Let go of me!” You struggle against his hold, sneering at them. “I swear to god if you don’t let me go, I’ll make you regret this!” You yelp as Steve tugs on your arms harshly, pushing you toward your large wooden table. 
Nick blinks, looking between you and the oven before letting out a gasp. “Oh my god! It was going to happen again?!” Steve rolls his eyes, gesturing his brother to come help. Nick quickly stumbles forward, taking over for his brother while Steve walks into your line of vision. He crouches down, looking into your eyes while he reaches forward and tucks a fall piece of hair behind your ear. 
“Did you really think we’d be stupid enough to fall for that a second time…” Steve looks at Nick before shaking his head, looking back down at you. “Okay, maybe one of us wasn’t stupid enough.” He ignores the small ‘hey’ as he gives you a smirk. “What should we do with you, huh?” 
“Let me go!” You sneer, glaring daggers at the man. Nick groans as you push back against him, accidentally grinding against his bulge. You gasp, eyes widening. “You pervert!” You thrash around, your movements not helping the man behind you. 
Steve grins as he realises what he’s going to do to you. He reaches forward and grips your chin, tilting your head back enough that it begins to strain your neck. He leans forward, keeping eye contact. “We’re going to have some fun with you, little witch.” The force of his hand causes your mouth to open slightly and your walls clench around nothing as Steve spits into it. Never once has a mere human made you react like this.
You must have zoned out because when you blink, the brothers had swapped positions. Maybe you could taunt one, distract him long enough. You breathe, focusing on the one before you, letting your magic swirl around and enter him. You let out a giggle, “Nick Gretel… Oh, your parents must have–” Your cut off and your eyes widen as a hard but soft object enters your mouth, causing you to choke and gag as it hits the back of your throat. Your eyes move down and widen more as you realise what has entered, you can feel yourself dampen at how big and thick he is. 
“Oops, what was that, little witch?” Nick groans, feeling your lips tighten around his throbbing member, your tongue flicking instinctively around his swollen tip. “Shit, I think she’s enjoying this, brother.” 
Steve hums, having rolled your dress above your hips while you were distracted and swiping a finger through your glistening folds. “Of course, she is, she’s a slut. Isn’t that right, little witch? You were just desperate for attention.” You whimper around Nick, causing him to let out a groan and jerk his hips. Thrusting deeper into your warm, wet mouth. “You just want to be stuffed, huh? Have us use both your holes, fuck you until you’re dumb. Fill you with our cum, making you want and beg for more.” His words cause your eyes to roll back, your thighs becoming slicker at the thought. Steve smiles, nodding. “Just like I thought.” 
He stands, palming his throbbing cock before he releases it. A groan falls from his lips and shoots through to your core as his strokes the thick base. The older brother guides his mushroom tip through your lips, gathering your juices before he pushes in. “Oh fuck… She’s so tight.” Steve grunts, his eyes fluttering as he thrusts deeper, his cock being hugged by your delicious walls. His hands grip your hips as you squeeze him, your moans vibrate around Nick’s cock, and he shouts.
“Fuck! I’m not going to last if she keeps doing that!” Nick holds the back of your head; his head falls forward as he slowly fucks your face. He watches as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, drool slipping out the sides of your mouth, only the whites of your eyes visible. “Such a good little witch, taking me so well.” 
Steve thrusts into you hard and fast, holding you down. He groans as his hands move from your hips to your plump cheeks that jiggle with each thrust, he grips them, pulling them apart and squeezing them. “Fuck, who knew a witch could be so pretty. Not like the other one we met.” Steve makes a dig at your dead grandmother, causing anger to build inside of you only to be replaced with pleasure. You tense before slowly relaxing in their hold, sucking desperately on Nick’s cock while his older brother splits you open. 
The feel of their pulsing veins, sliding in and out of your holes, their scents invading your senses cause you to become dizzy. You have never felt something so intense before and in response your walls clench and unclench around Steve like crazy, sucking him in deeper, allowing him to hit the spots that are far out of your reach. You moan, tingles erupt throughout your body as Nick buries his cock into the back of your throat and releases, filling your mouth with his cum. 
You swallow as he pulls out, slouching into the chair behind him as he watches his brother destroy you with hazy eyes. “O–oh!” You bury your face into the wooden table, hands flying forward and gripping the edge tightly, causing your knuckles to whiten. 
Steve growls, leaning forward and towering over you. His hand moves from your arse to the back of your head and pushes it harder into the surface. “You like that, slut? Such a weak fucking witch.” You whimper, tightening around him as your vision becomes white and your juices coat his thick member. Steve groans, continuing to thrust before coating your walls with his cum. Like his brother, he gently pulls out and sinks into the chair behind him, half-lidded eyes watch as your cunt clenches and unclenches around nothing and his cum leaks from your tight hole.
Your chest moves up and down as you breathe, trying to push away the left-over pleasure that runs through your body, you slowly move and fix your dress before lifting your hands. As magic begins to swirl around you and the room, you prepare to get rid of these men once and for all. “This is for my grandmother.” 
The brothers ignore the shivers that roll through their body at how chilling your voice is, they look at each other knowing that they will have to do something and fast before the magic can hit them completely. 
Steve being the closet decides to distract you while his brother grabs something from his pocket, while your attention remains on Steve, you don’t seem to notice the other sneaking up behind you. You’d think you would learn after last time, but of course, you thought you were strong enough. Your eyes widen when you are suddenly grabbed and before you can even think of using your magic, a cloth is placed on your mouth causing your eyes to become droopy. “You should’ve just been a good little witch…” You hear one of them before you go completely limp.
As they head back in the direction of their home, with you in their arms. You would later learn when you awoke that you should never wait to strike revenge, especially as a witch.
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thank you for reading!
feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.
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shiningstarwrites · 2 months ago
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Their bad habits in a relationship
Arcane Characters x Fem!Reader
Vi
• Pushing You Away: Vi has a bad habit of shutting you out when she’s hurting. After a particularly bad fight in Zaun, she avoids you completely, thinking it’s better to keep you at a distance than risk you getting hurt. You’re left wondering if you’ve done something wrong, the silence between you growing unbearable.
• Broken Promises: She promised to always come back to you, but one day, she doesn’t. When she finally returns, bruised and battered, she sees the hurt in your eyes and knows she’s broken your trust.
• Arguments About Safety: Vi can’t stand the thought of you being in danger, but her overprotectiveness leads to heated arguments. “I can handle myself, Vi!” you yell, and her voice breaks as she responds, “But what if you can’t? What if I lose you?”
• Haunted by the Past: Sometimes, Vi wakes up in the middle of the night, sweat on her brow and a look of pure terror in her eyes. She doesn’t want to talk about the nightmares, but when you try to comfort her, she just whispers, “I can’t lose you like I lost them.”
Jinx (Powder)
• Unpredictable Pain: Jinx’s volatile nature often leaves you walking on eggshells. One day, in a fit of paranoia, she accuses you of betraying her. The words cut deep, and though she regrets it later, the damage is done.
• Past vs. Present: Jinx struggles with the person she used to be and who she is now. She worries she’s not good enough for you, often saying things like, “Why would someone like you love someone as broken as me?”
• Explosive Arguments: Her emotions run wild, and when you fight, it’s like a storm. She says things she doesn’t mean, only realizing how deeply they’ve hurt you when you walk away in tears.
• Isolation: Sometimes, Jinx disappears for days without a word, leaving you to worry if she’s even alive. When she finally comes back, she’s tearful and apologetic but can’t promise she won’t do it again.
Caitlyn
• Duty vs. Love: Caitlyn’s role as an enforcer constantly pulls her away from you. She hates the look in your eyes every time she says, “I have to go,” but she can’t abandon her responsibilities, even when it means leaving you behind.
• Strain of Expectations: Her family’s high expectations often bleed into your relationship. When her mother makes a snide comment about your place in Caitlyn’s life, Caitlyn doesn’t defend you in the moment, leaving you feeling betrayed.
• Overworked and Distant: Caitlyn’s work consumes her, and while she swears she loves you, her late nights and constant absences leave you feeling like you’re always second place.
• A Moment Too Late: One day, you’re caught in the crossfire of a case she’s working on. Caitlyn arrives just in time to see you injured, the sight of your blood making her realize how much she’s taken you for granted.
Ekko
• The Weight of Leadership: As the leader of the Firelights, Ekko carries the weight of an entire community on his shoulders. He loves you, but he often feels like there’s no room for your relationship amidst his responsibilities.
• Broken Promises: He’s late to a date for the fifth time in a row, and when you confront him, he says, “I’m trying to protect all of us! Can’t you see that?” His words sting, making you wonder if he values you as much as his cause.
• Survivor’s Guilt: Ekko often pushes you away, convinced that anyone close to him is doomed to suffer. “I’ve already lost too many people,” he says. “I can’t lose you too.”
• The Edge of Goodbye: During a dangerous mission, Ekko is caught in an explosion that leaves him gravely injured. When you find him later, barely clinging to life, he whispers, “I should’ve told you how much I love you more often.”
Mel Medarda
• Political Intrigue: Being with Mel means being thrust into a world of manipulation and hidden motives. When one of her rivals targets you to get to her, she blames herself entirely. “I should’ve known this would happen,” she says, her voice trembling with guilt.
• Walls of Gold: Mel’s upbringing has made her emotionally guarded. She loves you, but she struggles to open up, leaving you feeling like you’re constantly chasing a part of her that she won’t let you have.
• Fights About Priorities: You confront her about how often she puts her political ambitions above your relationship. “Do I even matter to you?” you ask, and her silence feels like a knife to the heart.
• A Love Too Dangerous: One night, Mel tells you she can’t be with you anymore, not because she doesn’t love you, but because she fears the danger her world brings to yours.
Silco
• Tainted Love: Silco’s world is one of violence and power, and no matter how much he loves you, it bleeds into your relationship. You hate the blood on his hands, and he hates that he can’t be the man you deserve.
• Constant Conflict: You argue about his obsession with Zaun’s independence. “Zaun comes first,” he says coldly during one fight, and you can’t help but feel like you’ll always come second.
• A Dangerous Game: One day, you’re caught in the crossfire of his enemies. When he finds you injured, barely conscious, he cradles you in his arms, whispering, “I’ll burn this city to the ground if it means keeping you safe.”
• Doubts and Distance: Silco often wonders if he should let you go for your own good, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he becomes colder, hoping you’ll leave him before he destroys you.
Viktor
• Workaholic Tendencies: Viktor’s obsession with his research often leaves you feeling neglected. “This is bigger than us,” he says, not realizing how much his words hurt you.
• The Fear of Losing You: Viktor’s declining health makes him push you away, convinced you deserve someone who can give you a future. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me,” he says, his voice breaking as he turns away.
• Unspoken Words: He’s terrible at expressing his emotions, and sometimes his silence speaks louder than words. You’re left wondering if he truly loves you or if his work will always be his first priority.
• The Final Goodbye: In his desperation to perfect his research, Viktor overworks himself to the brink of collapse. When you find him unconscious in his lab, you realize how much he’s sacrificed, even at the cost of your relationship.
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pinkandgoldensoul · 3 months ago
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CS#55 || So? || oneshot
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Navigation || Masterlist
If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.
pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc sister!reader (feat. charles leclerc!brother) genre: secret relationship, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of smut (minors DNI), angst tw: panick attack, brief mentions of death (Hervé), swearing other notes: relationship between Carlos and Charles SUCKS. Consider it out of character, if you will. (Check Disclaimers above) Also, on the desktop version (the themed one) some of the spacing formatting isn't working, so I suggest reading it on the regular page (does it make sense? the one with the blue background. Edit: nevermind, the formatting glitches everywhere. Just... pretend it is fine.) word count: 24.2k plot: what could possibly go wrong if you hooked up with a handsome man who you too late discover to be your brother's teammate after said brother had tried to keep your existence unknown to his colleagues?
Hope you enjoy it ♥ If you do, please let me know! Thanks in advance to whoever will like, reblog and comment!
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3 new messages from Lando where are u? want to celebrate with you you were my lucky charm today
>>♥<<
A bored night in the warm breeze of May, laying on the sofa with eyes fixed upon your phone’s screen: it was all you needed to twist your life around completely. Not even the breathtaking scenery outside the glass window could cheer you up: palm trees absorbing the orange shades of the sun, the placid ocean roaring on the shore, the pavements brimming with people. Miami’s perpetual heat weakened your limbs and consumed them slowly and steadily.
Charles had invited you to the race in the USA, hoping that the nice weather and the lively nightlife of Florida would perk your interest. «I honestly can’t believe you’re not coming to the club with me, that’s rude.» «Lan, you know why…» To be fair, spending time with Charles should’ve been a valid reason itself to hop on board the plane, without subtle hints to help you choose. And yet, he knew you wouldn’t have accepted his offer as easily as your mother or your brothers would. «Yes, but jeez, you can’t hide forever…» «Charles won’t let me. He wants me for Imola and Monaco too.» «No way he convinced you to do that.» «He promised to pay for anything I want while travelling with him.» It rubbed you the wrong way, and he knew it; he was sorry not to see you on any of his weekends, and you knew it. «Oh, now it makes sense.» he pauses. «Must be sad to be alone, though.»
After you had landed in Miami, being the youngest and the newest of all Leclerc’s, those two days in the paddock had been a nightmare: you had been asked to release some interviews, always receiving absurd questions on your brother’s behavior towards you, as if you weren’t independent enough to take care of yourself. The trap was set. To which your reaction was hiding in the flat Charles had booked for you and at the same time dreaming of breaking the confinement. «Maybe I won’t be alone…» «Uh? What’s up?» Exiting your first serious and disastrous relationship – as if anyone could know how to handle another person’s feelings at 21 – you had decided to experiment and not settle to rigid ties anymore, opting for fling burners instead, inspired by the air of freedom and possibilities of Florida. «I’m currently… scoping the surroundings.» You had created a Tinder account for the purpose. Scared that someone, despite your brief appearance in the paddock, could recognize you somehow, you had added pictures in which it was almost impossible to tell your face features apart and you had transfigured your surname in Clerc, enough to get away with it. It was as easy as breathing: no strings attached only in the bio, search set on matches near you by location and swipes. Lots of them. As toxic as it could be, receiving so much approval enticed you greatly, but at the same time filled you with inexplicable sadness. You knew nobody was there to stay. «Need to search elsewhere when you have me? I’m not enough for you, am I?» Despite how boldly you had followed your proposition, you hadn’t acted on your folly yet. Sure, you had been texting with some guys, but nobody had conquered your attention well enough to really drop the talk and meet them in person. You simply craved someone to take notice of you and let you know. «Lan! Of course you’re enough, silly.» Because you had craved it all your life.
>>♥<<
Through the endless swiping of new faces that Miami offered you, spread on the couch, your half-closed eyelids suddenly batted open. Chili. Mmh. Weird nickname. Sus as heck. But boy, was he handsome. You kept staring at the photos of his card, and well… His facial features were barely visible, or not displayed all together at once – in one pic his lavishly thick hair, in another one his glossy eyes, in yet another one the plumpest and most inviting lips on earth… –, but you had quite made out his body, and it didn’t surprise you at all to read in his short bio that he was an athlete. «I could tell, honey.» you whispered to yourself, still bewildered. A pleased smile adorned your lips as you read the other lines of the bio. Just searching for some good fun, no commitment. All you wanted on a silver plate, right before your drooling heart. A rush of excitement cursed through your fingertips as you swiped right and immediately opened the chat, halting in search of the right words to type.
hey, nice to
What the fuck, it doesn’t have to be this awkward and formal. You pouted in reflection, then deleted and re-typed.
hey, want to hang out?
Too straightforward, it seems like you’re the neediest girl on earth…
love your profile, I’d like to get to know you more
And this is just pathetic. Clingy and stalkerish when he asked for no commitment. You huffed in frustration and threw your arm over your eyes to conceal the hard truth: your inexperience and naivety wasn’t to be changed overnight by downloading a dating app. Looking back at the phone, you were ready to spend another hour figuring out what to say, when you noticed a new text on the chat.
are you free to hang out tonight?
Straightforward would’ve been fine, after all. Because the bluntness and directness of his text shook you deeply within, pulling strings of yearning, curiosity and utmost fascination.
yes, ofc > can i at least know your real name? cause i don’t think it’s Chili, right?
You saw his typing dots.
Carlos let’s meet at the Regent at 9
Panicking on Google Maps to search for the address, you saw another notification pop.
the dress code is quite elegant, but i’m sure you’ll wear something nice both for yourself and for me as well can’t wait to meet you
Cheeks burning red, dazed by the whole interaction and its speed, dizzy with adrenaline, you had no more focus than what’s required to type:
> me too
>>♥<<
You tried to relax your muscles under the hot night breeze, as the sun still lingered on the horizon before setting down. Nervousness stuck the dress on your skin, as much as it dried your mouth and throat. Your only shield: sunglasses. Wearing them at any time of the day was a habit you had unknowingly inherited by Charles. As soon as he had picked it up, he had bought you – well, gifted you, since he had an awfully huge collection of them – a pair of Ray Ban’s for your birthday. Whenever you two would hang out together, not often, and he’d invite you aboard his Sedici yacht during the summer break, at the sight of those sunglasses his lips would stretch in his unmistakable dimpled smile.
The walk on the pavement seemed endless and a thousand thoughts crossed your scattered mind: years and years of recommendations from Lorenzo thrown to the wind only to hang out with the first guy met online. Not even met: just let him do the talk on his own and had you wrapped around his finger.
Your sandals moving in shorter steps as you approached the lounge bar, you eyed a standing figure, casually leaning near the entrance, whose small smile momentarily melted your knot of anxiety. Carlos didn’t even give you time to greet him and take in his overwhelming presence that he placed his hand on the small of your back, gently but somehow already intimately, directing you towards the entrance. «Sorry, I’ll explain later. Let’s get inside.» «Sure!» Your voice betrayed the attempt at sounding confident with its squeakiness. Mentally facepalming yourself for it, you couldn’t stray your gaze away from his hypnotizing features: he seemed older than what you had thought while observing his profile pictures (and you had consumed them with staring, so it definitely wasn’t due to lack of attention) and he exuded a timeless charm quite inexplicable.
As soon as he asked the waiter about his – therefore yours – reservation, you were both given room and led to an inner area of the bar, way quieter and with fewer tables crowding it. He pulled the chair for you, like a true gentleman, and took a seat, grinning wide as you both settled. «Sorry for the hurry, I didn’t mean to sound rude.» «No need to apologize!» you quickly hushed, already blushing by the proximity. «And sorry if I asked you to hang out with no warning, but I’m leaving tomorrow morning and… I definitely needed to meet you first, y/n.» The name and the thick Spanish accent had sparked the thought, but his words were a confirmation Carlos was probably in Miami by chance, as much as you were. «Well, I’m leaving tomorrow too, don’t worry. And I wouldn’t have accepted if I didn’t want to be here.»
You exchanged a delighted stare, while going through the menu in search of your cocktail order and, consequently, of relief. Though, the pleasant tension you had felt, like a string pulling you to him, as soon as you had seen him, had gradually disappeared and had left space to a growing sense of ease, almost familiarity: words, together with the liquid content of your drinks, flowed without interruptions, and you touched a wide variety of topics, always finding yourselves on the same page. «Thank you for choosing a quiet place. My moves are constantly watched…» you sighed. «I came here last year and I really enjoyed how chilled out it is. Makes me relax.» Carlos leaned back into his chair, so that his collarbones immediately popped under his tanned flesh. «So you’re always chased too?» «Not as much as my brother, but yes.» «Is it because of him? Is he known?» «More than known, yes.» you smiled. «My life is reserved, compared to his.» Carlos took a sip of his drink with a sympathetic smile. «Would you prefer a quieter life?» he asked. You raised your glass, lost in thought. «Maybe, but that would mean my brother isn’t successful anymore, so no. I really can’t complain about my life, I’m… lucky.» you pulled a small smile. «I wish I were as grateful as you are.» Carlos sighed, and his resignation intrigued you. «Should you be?» «Oh, yeah, I think so.» he took another long sip, then wetting his lips clean. «But I’ve had paparazzi around me since I was young and I can’t bear the media’s attention anymore.» «There’s nothing wrong with that. You shouldn’t feel forced to gratitude.» you calmly prompted.
His pupils were quite enlarged, you noticed, and glazed with softness: your hand was laid close to his, almost at a fingertip’s distance, and for a moment you both glanced down at them, craving the same touch and connection your minds and feelings had experienced. It had only been half an hour since you had crossed The Regent’s threshold guided by Carlos’ hand and you were already perceiving a mutual tenderness none of you anticipated nor searched for, and which you now couldn’t let go of even if you tried. After chuckling to each other at the miserable sight of your emptied glasses, you both agreed to order a second round of cocktails, which flowed effortlessly down your throats as a sweet-toned conversation left your tongues. You learned about his passion for most sports, laughing and being entertained by his anecdotes, only to feel flustered by his sudden questions about you.
Finally, after staring satisfied and content at each other, Carlos asked for the bill, which he insisted on paying. Waiting for it, you hummed to the music playing inside the cozy lounge bar. He frowned, clearly amused. «Do you like this song?» he asked. «Of course I do? Who doesn’t?» You light-heartedly mouthed him smooth operator as Sade’s voice sang the chorus, moving along to the beat. Carlos couldn’t stray his eyes away from your enchanting figure and acknowledged how smitten he had already become after only a casual talk. He honestly wouldn’t believe you were only searching for a good time as he was. Apart from looking desperately beautifully young, you had a cheerful glee in your manners, a youthful spark inside your eyes which lured him in way more than he would’ve liked. He had given up on his wicked intents as soon as you had cheered him down the street with your flustered smile; he had been soft and warm for you already before sitting at your booked table. He had enjoyed talking with you more than he’d had with any past fling. He could tell you were someone different, someone to be treated with care, somehow; and the biggest surprise was that he didn’t mind at all undertaking such a delicate task.
After paying the bill, Carlos got up right away, implicitly inviting you to do the same. «Come, I want to show you a place.» Taking your sunglasses in your fingers and lightly fidgeting with them, a smile still lingered on your lips from the thrill of conversation. «Where?» Carlos grinned, placing his hand on yours to stop the nervous work on the Ray Ban’s temples. «Do you trust me?» His touch sent your whole body in trance and sudden anticipation of further exposure all at once, like a rush. Was it okay to trust a stranger? And on top of that, a devilishly handsome one? Was it okay to let him guide you God knows where in a foreign country with the darkness of the night approaching? You nodded. «Yes.» «Let’s go, then.» And with a swift move, he took the sunglasses out of your loosened grab, wearing them on, leaving you breathless as the thicker frame fitted his masculine features stunningly.
The botanical garden was barely ten minutes away from The Regent, making it pleasant to walk under the setting sun of Miami. To your surprise, some areas of the garden were empty, so that your quiet stroll with Carlos felt like an intimate travel in astonishing oases of peace, silence and chirping birds, drowned in the relaxing green of leaves. You walked alongside, so close and so slow that your hands were always on the verge of touching, until you both naturally reached to the other and sealed them in a secure hold. You smiled, buzzing with warmth. As sun rays cut through the leaves and chased your figures, you couldn’t help but be caught in staring at Carlos’ glowing skin while he was talking. «Have you ever been to Spain?» «No, never.» you shook your head. «You need to come, for sure. The weather is even better than Florida.» His genuine, happy grin made one burst on your face too, suddenly blinded by a sun beam. «You should visit Monaco, then.» you replied with pride. «You mean the Principality?» «Yes. I live there.» «Too bad I’ve already planned to move there months ago.» You stared at him, shook. How many chances were there? «And now that I know you live there, I’ve got another good reason to hurry up.» You eye rolled, flustered, brushing your upper arms in a poor attempt to dust off the cozy, warm feelings blooming in your chest. «Can’t wait.» you murmured, smiling.
Abruptly, Carlos stopped as you were crossing a small wooden bridge inside the garden, facing you and gazing low to your intertwined fingers. The soft rocking sound of water and the inebriating smell of night descending on Florida slowed the flow of time. «I, uhm… I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you.» he began. «I really like you. This is the most fun I’ve had with someone without having to get naked since a long time.» Carlos kept caressing your fingers with his, flickering his eyes back and forth from yours to your hands. «I know that you probably expected something different from tonight…» «No, it was perfect.» you stepped in. «Indeed, it was.» Carlos smiled, still shyly looking down. «But my job makes me really busy. As much as I’d like to spend more days with you and enjoy moments together, I’m constantly travelling across the world and… I don’t want you to think I don’t care.» «I wasn’t-» «And I don’t want to force you to follow me everywhere I go, especially because we both would be exposed to the media and… I guess we’re both tired of it.» «We… we don’t need to go at full speed. We can try to keep in contact the times you are available. There’s no rush.» you suggested, leaning a bit nearer.
Only then you realized how close you had got, Carlos’ starry eyes boring into yours. «Don’t you feel an urge?» he asked, husky. «I think I do.» you simply managed to breathe out, a bit shaky. «But I have no problems in waiting, and we’ll meet up whenever-» It rained on your mouth, a waterfall of bliss and honey through the touch of his plump lips: instead of releasing a pent-up tension, it sharpened the yearn, hands searching for a place of belonging and rest on your respective bodies. «I’ll text you every day.» he said in between the kiss. «Don’t make promises you can’t keep.» you chuckled. «I always keep my word. You’ll learn to know me.» «Such a lover boy.» you whispered, leaning in for another kiss.
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>> 2 new messages from Lando so did you hook up? > hottest man alive, but we only kissed lame >> 2 new messages from Chili🌶
look who’s with me
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You gaped, an immediate grin spreading on your lips.
guess when you’re seeing them again
«Y/n, can you help me with the vegetables? Charles and Alex are going to be here any minute!» «Yes, mom, I’m coming.»
> omg have you planned something? you bet >> 1 new message from Lando don’t tell me you’re down for him already      > i am, plus we’re seeing again woah what happened to the whole “I’m never going to date again PERIOD”?      > disappeared as soon as I met him ♥ gross send me a pic of him rn
«Y/n?» «I’m coming!» you said loudly, finally getting up the couch and walking towards the kitchen, eyes still glued to your phone.
>> 1 new message from Chili🌶 and what about you?      > what?
«Here you are! Take this, cut these carrots, please.»
have you planned anything for me?
Pascale sighed as she was still handing the knife to you.
     > you bet
«Never mind.» «No, mom, I’ll do it, give me the knife!» you whined, stuffing your phone in your pocket. She immediately smiled at you, a glint of curiosity and mischief not going unnoticed to your trained eye. «Who was it?» she chirped. «Lando.» «Oh, how is he doing?» «Good.» Your phone buzzed as new notifications popped in, wearing your nerves so thin you had to quickly take it out the pocket and put it on silent. «Eager to talk to you, uh?» «What?» you rapidly turned your head to her. «Lando. It’s him texting you, right?» You didn’t know, but something told you your cheeks were flushed, indeed, that they had been all along since you had stepped next to the kitchen counter. A picture. What if Lando could recognize Carlos, being into sports more than you were? What if Carlos didn’t want to be shown around, after the privacy talk you had shared?
>> 1 new message from Lando want to judge myself      > gatekeeping his beauty from your unholy mind > sorry
>>♥<<
During lunch, you stayed pretty much silent, always taking the chance to clear plates and bring them to the sink so that you could check your phone, unnoticed.
please tell me you’re free this weekend i organized everything, you’re going to love it
You stared at the bottom of the sink.
it’ll be just us no paparazzi shit
Plopping an apricot on the pottery fruit basket, you glanced outside the window above the sink, a line of gray clouds aligned at the horizon, casting a dark shadow onto Monaco’s corner of sea.
You placed the pottery full of fruits in the middle of the dining table and took a seat. Charles swiftly grabbed an apple and unapologetically gave it a big bite, making everyone chuckle at his antics. Everyone, but you. «So…» he said, still chewing. «Ready for Sunday? The forecast says it’s going to be sunny all day.» «Can we ride watercrafts this time? I don’t want to lay on the deck for twelve hours.» Arthur chimed in. «Yes, of course.» Charles nodded, taking another bite. «But I’d do that in the afternoon, when the sun isn’t too bright.» «Deal. We need to organize a watercraft race!» «I know, right? What about-» «I don’t think I’m coming.» Charles, who was seated right in front of you, stopped chewing and gave you an expressionless glance. «Why not?» «I think I got a sunburn in Miami and I don’t want it to get worse.» Charles’ left eyebrow quickly raised in annoyance, then he shook his head to himself. «I don’t believe it, but you’re free to stay home.» he said monotone. «I won’t stay home.» you said quiet, but still somehow assertive. At this point, everyone at the table – Lorenzo, Alexandra and Pascale included – were staring at you in anticipation, trying to decipher your words. «I’m going to Provence for the weekend.» Charles scoffed, taking another huge bite out of frustration. «You’ll spend two days hiding under a rock, then, if you really want to avoid sun exposure there.» «Charles…» Pascale tried to warn him. He bored his eyes into yours, so that you read right away his disappointment painted in bold letters. «Some days I feel like I don’t have a sister at all.» As your mother scolded him again, you could see drops of venom fall from his lucid lips, as he had stabbed a full syringe of it right in the middle of your chest, which had caused you to abruptly stand up, hands on the table, eyes wide like a mad woman. «And I’ve been feeling without a brother every fucking day of my life, Charles.» Lorenzo intercepted your arm as you fled to your room, getting up and chasing you but not fast enough to stop your march; he was met with the cold, white wood of your door like a slap on his face, still pleading you to open it. A simple hiccupped sigh, tears pricking your eyes. Vision blurry, you took your phone.
can we leave earlier than Saturday?
You spent the evening crouched on the bed, feet pressing the duvet, fighting feelings away. It haunted you all at once, as it usually would: breaths would pick up the pace, matching your scattered thoughts, heart beating loud. Lorenzo had knocked on your door several times throughout the evening, while you overheard a constant muffled talk in the living room, sure of the discussion your dramatic departure had ignited. It was still a fresh wound. It still bled through the skin. Never having your father nor your brother aside when it mattered. Lorenzo had tried to suffice, being the eldest; he probably was the only one who had seen you breakdown before, the one able to at least take your loneliness into consideration. Out of all the people in the house, he was the one to patiently check in on you in the darkest hour of the night, knowing you’d be still awake. He was the one who hugged you and hid your sighs with reassurances, among your broken “I can’t do it”, the one to cup your wet cheek while sitting on the bed. As every other night. «Please, let me leave this weekend, I don’t want to come…» you chanted, like a prayer. «Of course you can go, no one said you can’t. It’s all good.» The one to cradle you, to caress your messy hair, to cuddle you to sleep in your twin bed. >>♥<<
You landed in Jerez on Thursday, around midday. Crossing the exit of the airport with your suitcase in hand, you got swamped with a wave of heat. Sun shining way too bright for your eyes to keep open, you placed a hand on your forehead, shielding them, so that you could spot Carlos’ car more easily. It was hard; indeed, he hadn’t chosen anything fancy like most sportsmen do, but opted for something low-key instead. Once you had caught sight of Carlos’ luscious hair and silhouette at the driving seat, you confidently walked towards the car, quite surprised to see it was barely decent and clean. Without hesitation, you loaded your suitcase and took the passenger seat, throwing an inquisitive glance. «Couldn’t you find anything nicer than this… car wreck?» He chuckled. «You’ll see why we need it.» In a flash, Carlos leaned over to grab your seatbelt and put it on for you: he seized the chance to linger a few inches from your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. «I missed you.» «It’s been barely a week!» you giggled. Since he still hadn’t moved away, you cupped his cheeks and left another quick peck on his lips, being too adorable and handsome not to. «But I missed you too.» you added, soft. «That’s what I wanted to hear.» he whispered with a grin. And with that, he finally put on your seatbelt, ready to switch the engine on.
The road was a lonely stripe in the middle of burned-yellow lands, hills and the smallest villages punctuating the view. You pointed out all the Spanish flags you could see, amused, letting your arm wander in the warm air outside the window. After more or less an hour of travelling from the airport, when the street started to get uphill and quite bumpy, you rapidly understood Carlos’ vehicle choice. «Where are we going?» you beamed. «Be patient, we’re almost there.» You reached a crossroads: you could either keep driving uphill or follow down a path on foot. Carlos parked the car in the small space available before the fork. «C’mon, let’s go.» he gestured. «But we’re in the middle of nowhere!» you protested, getting out of the car. Carlos opened the trunk and took your suitcase, snatching it before you could even imagine carrying it yourself. «And what do you think this is?» You raised your eyes up to the point he indicated and your jaw dropped: right at the side of the crossroads, there was a beautiful one-store small villa, with huge glass windows and a skillfully-made path of stones leading up to the entrance door. The white tint of the walls gave a sense of freshness and broadness, paired up with the same simplicity achieved through its squared forms. Carlos approached the small gate, taking a pair of keys from his pocket. «Is it for us?» you asked, dumbfounded. «Of course.» he stated matter-of-factly. Still struck by the beauty of the landscape – the sea roaring behind your back, the hill dominating it from above – you hurried up behind Carlos, following the stoned path.
«We’re staying here because this way we’re closer to the beach and to another place I’ll show you on Sunday.» «Good, because I almost only packed swimwear, as you’ve told me.» You both chuckled. Eyes still wandering around the room, enamored with the designing choices – warm and light tones both for the wallpaper and the furniture – you then ultimately placed your stare back on Carlos’ towering figure, inevitably feeling a burst of excitement and thrill. Before you could move an inch closer to him, he cleared his throat. «Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.» The shower in the bathroom made you want to strip naked and immediately get the best out of its luxury: black stones, golden details, a small basket full of products only awaiting usage; a huge mirror above the modern-styled sink. «I’m going to spend hours in here, I’m telling you.» you said, still in awe. Carlos laughed whole-heartedly. «I can’t blame you.» You then walked into the bedroom, first noticing the king-sized bed; then, a huge, curtained glass window caught your attention, pushing you to get close and unveil the breathtaking scenery concealed behind it. «That’s the beach we’ll go to.» Carlos said, still standing at the door frame. You turned your head to him, lips slightly parted. «Carlos, this is… It’s incredible, thank you so much.» He walked over to you, smiling in delight, guiding you back into the sightseeing pose with his hands, gently. «Thanks to you for accepting.» he said, low-toned. Maybe it was May’s bright sun making heat creep up your cheeks, or maybe it was Carlos’ touch on your burning skin; maybe you hadn’t lied to Charles when you had said you had got a burn in Miami, a severe one, something not to overlook, because Carlos was drowning you in explosive helium, and the same reckless rush had ignited you both, bringing you under the hot sky of Spain. And now that you were hypnotized by his overwhelming presence, you could only search for his eyes in the reflection of the window, gulping as you noticed he was doing the exact same. The vision of his fingers dancing on your skin hit you deeper than the mere tactile perception, as if you had just become aware of the tantalizing movement on your arm. You saw Carlos’ face fade away from the reflection and felt suddenly naked, deprived of his touch. As an immediate reaction, you turned around to keep looking at him, something you couldn’t do without anymore. «As you can see, there’s only one bed. If you don’t feel comfortable sleeping together…» «No, Carlos, of course I want to sleep with you.» you blurted out in a rush, only to mentally facepalm for the unintended pun. He smirked, both amused and finding your embarrassment endearing. «Happy to know that.»
>>♥<<
There was something that either you had miscalculated or that Carlos had carefully taken into consideration while organizing the trip, something you hadn’t thought about while packing your favorite swimsuits and bikinis, alongside sarongs and summer dresses: that you’d be both almost completely naked, all day. After spending the morning in the cool, crystal-clear water, during the hottest hours you would drop back home to eat something on the fly – and change into a dry swimsuit –, then running back to the beach in the afternoon to walk hand in hand ‘til the sun set on the fine sand of the shore.
The first day was a nightmare. You both felt a rush of electricity run through you whenever you’d touch by chance, while swimming in the waves or passing a towel to the other; you were always feasting on each other’s bodies, almost shamelessly, driven by exasperation; you’d obsessively remind each other to wear sunscreen, so that you could either give help with spreading it over or enjoy one’s hands doing what the other’s craved. The only relief to the unbearable closeness was a profound, endless, affectionate conversation. Answers, follow-up questions, anecdotes, some common trivia about each other; you’d say the yearn for the physical was only a manifestation of a deeper emotional longing.
And that’s how, on the first day of vacation, you ended up looking at the soft reddish waves of sea calmly settling a layer of foam on the shore, both sitting on the sand as Carlos hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You shut your eyes, impressing the beauty of the evening breeze and the sight in your memory, while Carlos pressed his lips at the base of your neck. «You still haven’t told me which sport you practice.» you murmured. «Basically any sport, you name it.» «Are you a decathlon athlete?» you smiled. Carlos looked at you with a raised brow. «You really want to know, uh?» «Am I right?» «No, but thanks for trying.» he smirked. «Why can’t you tell me?» Carlos paused, and it was his time to gaze at the distance, enjoying the peaceful view of the horizon. «I just want to keep you out of it as long as I can. Always around the world, people watching every single move and invading your privacy, pictures and video you can’t prevent from leaking…» he tsked. «This isn’t what I want for us. I mean, look at us now: no expectations, no hectic lifestyle, no rush. We’re alone, we have nothing else but each other.» You nodded in small movements, almost to yourself. «My brother is almost never home. He’s been involved in the sport since he was a kid and already when he was a teen he’d be nowhere near Monaco.» Carlos rubbed your back as you talked. «Did you feel alone?» «Not really, no. I’ve got two other brothers.» «Please, don’t tell me they’re all older than you.» You smiled at his tone, giggling at his little “oh no…” as he realized it was the case. «But apart from gradually growing distant from my brother, the thing that I’ll never be able to forgive is that my dad was always with him. Because of him, I lost both a brother and a father.» Trying to drown out the tingling feelings of hurt failed as Carlos encircled you with his arms, pressing his lips on your temple in a tender kiss. You swallowed hard before carrying on. «So… If anything, I’m more scared of not being allowed in every part of your life.» you made eye contact with him. «And we would still have each other, no matter what.» Tacitly thanking you for sharing your feelings, Carlos kissed you briefly before settling back his head on your shoulder. «When you texted me you wanted to leave earlier, I was happy like a little kid.» You grinned, eyes veiled with sadness. «Yeah, I couldn’t wait.» Carlos gently grabbed your chin with his fingers, demanding eye contact back again: you soon dropped it, as Charles’ poisonous words still rang in your ears. «I wanted to run away.» you confessed, then resting your head onto your buckled knees, gazing at the sea. «Did something happen?» Carlos asked, soft, rubbing your back in soothing motions. «Nothing new. It’s always the same.» He leaned in to meet your eyes again, his hand still resting on your back. «Not today. It’s us, now.»
After hours of fast-paced teasing, the way your lips met in a kiss was slow, intimate; he brushed your hair with unexpected tenderness while deepening the kiss, getting to taste more of the sweetness he had drunk. «It’s just us.» he whispered again, tilting his head on the opposite side.
A soft wind rolled shivers on your skin as much as his hands settling on your waist and gently squeezing it did; heart about to burst out of your chest, you pressed both your hands on his cheeks, to keep him steady on you, not to let go of the sweet pleasure of closeness. It was only you and him on the beach, as the sun sank in the sea to let you two enjoy each other’s embrace: Carlos had spread one hand on your back, radiating a warm tingling feeling in your stomach as he slowly guided you to lie down on the bath towel beneath you. Despite the thought having lingered in the air, untold, for long, you couldn’t let yourself be bothered by where the night was leading, too pleasantly overwhelmed by his swift and yet careful moves.
Only when Carlos grazed your neck and you were lulled by his sharp inhales and his fanning breath over you, only when the bulge of his damp swimsuit involuntarily met your core causing you to grip a curl of his thick hair with your lips parted in bliss, only then you realized he was invading your entire space and driving your senses in tilt with too many feelings to process and to give into. You moaned, helpless, as he brushed over your core once again. Carlos halted, his dark irises contrasting with the white of the sclera even more, as his eyes were wide open; his chest, you noticed, heaved with an impatience that matched your own, electricity running through both your bodies. He had forced himself to stop. What are you waiting for?, a part of him said; and it was the impulsive one, the needy, the greedy, the one which had reached out for you in the Tinder matches only a week ago. The one which had him palming himself while staring at your pictures, anticipating the meeting with lust; the one that almost lost control by breathing in your scent after a few days he hadn’t seen you as he put the seatbelt on for you. But then, another part of him had put the hand brake. The one which had felt a soft spot for you when you laughed at the bar listening to his jokes, the one that cherished you like a treasure meant to be preserved pure and rare in its beauty, the one that would hang from your lips and comply with your pace, your desire.
You stared at each other for seconds which seemed eternity; you caught every single movement of Carlos’ body, attentive like a deer observing the predator’s actions. He wetted his lips, he flicked his eyes elsewhere before being drawn on you, this time with a softer gaze. His scent inebriated you as he leaned towards you, getting so close you could feel your own heart beating on the very edge of your skin, drawn like a magnet to Carlos. The concert of quickened breaths and pants blacked out the distant grating roar of the sea: your rhythm, your frequency, your tune was his to dictate.
As his hot breath signaled how he had got dangerously close to your ear, you kept your fingers intertwined in his hair, your entire body trembling in anticipation. «I want you.» His husky voice sent a violent shiver down your arching back, so deep in desire that your eyelids half-closed, fighting the instinct to push Carlos’ head on your neck to finally unleash his teasing. He had waited, he had thought about keeping you that close since the first time you had seen each other: and still he had refrained from acting on his selfish needs, and he had crafted instead the most alluring trap for you, making it impossible to untangle from him. Not that you wanted to. You didn’t know how you had both been able to fall so heavily in love in less than a week, but it had happened out of your notice, and with his tanned torso occupying all your senses – hot and full to the touch, a light veil of his cologne lingering on it despite the sea salt – there was no way to take a step back. Carlos couldn’t either. Not with your skin palpitating before his eyes, before his lips, so kissable, so perfectly laid out for him to nibble at, to mark and stain with passion. «Fuck, I need you…» You were in too deep. Your breath hitched at his husky tone. «Carlos…» His lips brushing yours with a circling motion, teasing them with a gut-wrenching delay, he whispered again honey-laced words. «Tell me you want it as much as I do, please…»
Without time to answer, mumbling another desperate please, he sealed his request with a kiss, which immediately became sloppy and messy due to your impatient bodies pressing onto the other, grabbing, exploring, roaming for pleasure. Lost in the kiss, you couldn’t tell whether it was Carlos rubbing his hard-on you or you desperately searching for friction through the damp layers of your swimsuits. However it might be, the result was the same: it had you whining and moaning, feeling the first stone-cold fabric warming through your throbbing cores, once rubbing couldn’t soothe the ache anymore. Carlos’ groan told you he felt the same way.
He couldn’t wait any more second: his body, mind and soul craved you all at once with the same disrupting force. Looking around, hurriedly rummaging with one hand in the pocket of his dismissed trousers, he sighed in frustration, placing his forehead upon yours. «I don’t have condoms here, for fuck’s sake…» he breathed out, a mix of disappointment and apology in his tone. You brushed his cheek, half hiding a smile. «But I promise I have them in the house. When we go back-» You pressed your pointer finger on his lips to interrupt him. «I’m on the pill.» Carlos’ eyes widened in realization, and despite being pulled by a nosy curiosity as to why you were on birth control, his arousal got the best of him and cut short any feasible matter.
He had captured your lips back in another messy kiss, slow-paced, open-mouthed, and his fingers had immediately rushed to teasingly push down your bottom swimsuit, tracing your folds with the thick wetness he was welcomed by. He growled into the kiss as soon as he noticed how turned on you were, feeling his own cock stir once more inside his swim trunks; with another groan, he left your glistening lips, smirking, and you understood why the moment his digits found your clit. You couldn’t control a half-screamed moan. «Nobody can hear us. I want you to be louder, baby.» As he rubbed you with his thumb slow and steady, your mind disconnected and stopped working properly: it was just him, his fingers making you mewl and his bulge against your bare thigh.
Carlos’ stare was unbearable: it was so filled with lust you had to stray away not to feel a hotter wave of heat on your reddened cheeks, to shut your eyes in bliss, to look down at his hand disappearing under your bikini. And if only you could’ve sustained his eyes for more than a few seconds, you would’ve noticed how he was struggling as well. Eight years of age gap. Sure, he still had to turn thirty, but… «Please, Carlos… I need to- GOSH!» you cried out. «Use your words, love. What do you need?» Maybe he was rushing it just for his own yearning, without taking you into much consideration. Not even a week after meeting each other for the first time and already hitting the fourth base… «Fuck, I need your fingers inside… Oh, please!» you moaned, tilting your head to the side. Or maybe he was simply complying to your desires as well. «Like this?» After all, you had already proved him that you weren’t a naïve little girl: your talks, your constant teasing (well thought-out, thanks to your provocative swimsuits), the way you hadn’t seem shocked or scared by his maneuvers but, quite the opposite, thrilled and longing for them. You were both on the same wavelength. «Ah, fuck me… Fuck!» What was he supposed to do now? Now that you were a whimpering mess under his expert fingers, now that he had you right where he had needed you to be since the first moment – below him, legs open for him, nipples tensed and visible under the top of your bikini, begging for your release –, now that he had the green light, it took a while to realize he could go for more without risking being turned down. «Carlos, please…» Spaced out, he had raised back on his knees, and you had started panting out of breath at both the sudden lack of contact and at the scene before you, his hands slowly pulling down his trunks. He was taken over by an unexplainable aplomb, moving carefully but surely at the same time, precise as a sniper in brushing your most sensitive spots: his calm had the opposite effect on your body, shaking in desire, swollen and aching, and you gripped his back once he leaned over you, his tip teasing your entrance.
>>♥<<
Your second day in southern Spain was spent in Carlos’ arms. Stirring after a night of sleep next to him, mattress and sheets still warm, you had felt his boner pressing on your thigh, as you had cuddled together all night. After exchanging the most adorable sleepy grin with him, you hadn’t hesitated to take the matter in your own hands. Neither had Carlos: less than a minute in, frustrated by how poorly he could pleasure you while lying next to you upright, he had quickly ordered you to sit on his face, so that he could grab your thighs, squeeze them tight in place whenever you’d try to shift away from his skillful tongue. He learned you quickly, cracking your body’s code after that abundant breakfast in bed; spending yet another morning on Playa de el Cañuelo, enjoying the vibrant shades of the sea water, wetting your ankles while sitting on the shore, eyes closed in delight and sunbathing, you didn’t expect you’d soon learn his.
At lunch, as usual, you both refuged back in the villa, welcomed by a cooler temperature. While preparing two bowls of salad, you felt a pair of hands sliding on your skin, rolling up your sarong to toy with the two nods holding the bottom of your bikini together. Before you could even realize, the feast had begun, as you moaned his name gripping the marble counter while he thrusted into you with one single stroke. Nibbling, biting and open-mouthed kisses were tell-tale signs of your mutual hunger, which Carlos’ cock satiated by providing you with a sickly-sweet full sensation, your stomach being filled with him. Out of impatience and urge, Carlos had satisfied his own leaning back onto the edge of the kitchen table and dragging you back with him through the firm hold he had on your hips, rocking you back and forth with ease and speed. You were now sure the sunburn had got severe, it had caused a fever: and Carlos was both the rays and the refreshing after-sun lotion, sliding on your skin, penetrating it, nourishing it from within.
>>♥<<
The surprise he had warned you about came on Sunday late afternoon. «Ready for a walk?» He had waited for the heat to be less intense, making it pleasant to stroll undisturbed hand in hand on a dirt path next to Playa de el Cañuelo, which went up the hill, amongst the bushes. From up there, you looked back to the beach and caught a magnificent glimpse of the view: the sea seemed even broader and distant, roaring onto the shore. Carlos stopped with you to enjoy the sight, reading into your sparkling eyes. «Let’s go, we’re almost there.»
You had been walking roughly for ten minutes, when you reached a crossing: the dirt left room to a wooden walkway with railing, leading back down to the jagged coast. «Este es el Faro de Camarinal.» «This is what?» you giggled. «Faro means lighthouse.» Holding hands and playing push and pull like two kids, you stared at Carlos’ lips closely as to replicate the Spanish words rolling off them, since he was determined to teach them to you. «Faster, now.» «I can’t! It’s impossible, you’re too quick.» «Try.» You both chuckled at each other, taken over by exhilaration for no particular reason but closeness. «Faro… Faro de Marinal?» «Camarinal.» «Faro de Camarinal.» Grinning at you, he let go of one of your hands to guide you towards the lighthouse once again, letting your steps resonating through the wooden boards. «Better. You improve very quickly.» «Are you planning on teaching Spanish to me already?» You both stopped in front of an old metallic door at the base of the lighthouse, on which a sign hung off: prohibido el paso. «You know me so well and yet it hasn’t even been a month since we’ve met.» «You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.» «It just amazes me.» he looked at you. «You amaze me.» The orange glow of the sunset warmed your cheeks, forcing you to suppress a smile after hearing Carlos’ comment. «Let’s go.» «But we can’t. Isn’t this a prohibition sign?» «It is. But nobody ever comes here and it’s completely safe to go inside.» He then proceeded to open the door, which was loosely closed, and invited you to step in, offering his hand to you given your reticence.
After carefully going upstairs being wary of any danger, you came at the top panting a bit, but the view managed to leave you wholly breathless: the sea, the glimmering of the distant waves due to the sun diving in and swimming in the golden water. «I used to come here when I was a kid.» «Did you come to this beach during holidays?» «Yes. This was the refuge I’d run to when my mom showed up to tell me we had to go back home.» You lowered your gaze and smirked, hit by the tenderness of the memory. «Is this a way to say you wish this trip didn’t end today?» «It is. And I also wanted to show you my favorite spot in Spain.»
You both engaged in sightseeing, Carlos hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder for a while, as he had grown accustomed to doing in those three days; you brushed his arms as he enveloped your waist, feeling cozy and happy in the embrace. Softly, gently, like a dance, he reached for the ribbon of your white swim dress and began undoing it, while you both imperceptibly moved your bodies to the rhythm of your hands. «This swimsuit is the best you’ve brought on this trip.» Carlos whispered in your ear. «Glad you like it… It was meant to be my small surprise for you.» «Let me unwrap it so that I can get my real surprise, then…»
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«And then what happened?» «Lan. You know what happened.»
You paced back and forth inside your bedroom, grinning wide as if Lando could ever see the sparkling magic in your eyes as you were telling him minute by minute everything about the sweet romanticism that had gone down during the trip. He had called you because he knew would like to vent and extenuate him with every single detail of that perfect, dreamy vacation. «Of course I do, but I want you to embarrassedly say it out loud so that you know how down bad you are.» You heavily sighed, knowing he was smirking by the tone of his voice. «Okay.» You licked your lips, biting your lower lip as the memories hit you. «We made love.» «Oh, wow, made love? Please, you’ll talk to me about making love when you’re an elder or something.» You chuckled, too embarrassed to reply with anything else. «So… I guess it was good.» Lando said. «It was out of this planet. It was dizzying, and he was just… perfect.» «Did he make you cum?» he quickly added. «LANDO!» you gaped, eyes bewildered. «’m just asking.» Sitting down on your bed, fingers fidgeting with a loosened thread of the comforter, your thoughts kept swimming in the sea of those recalled moments. You couldn’t help but realize that with Carlos everything had spiraled out of control. From complete strangers to lovers in a week. And the scariest thing to acknowledge was that it felt right, all along. Like puzzle pieces, you fitted seamlessly and now that you both had tangled up, there was no chance of ripping: you would text each other every other hour, hoping new opportunities to hang out together would arise, longing for connection after having discovered your new favorite pastime was looking in the eyes and talk. The mere thought of the proximity you had experienced warmed your cheeks again. «Yes, he did. Multiple times, if you’re interested!» «Weird that you think I’m interested, but okay.» Lando giggled. «Glad to hear you’re happy, though.» «Yeah, I just feel at ease around him.»
The line fell silent for a couple of seconds, giving you time to elaborate the sentence through a soft grin, head lowered. «Gosh, I think I love this man!» «Man? Is he old?» he laughed. «No, he’s just a bit older than me. But he’s so youthful as well! Lan, I’m doomed.» you facepalmed. «Seems like you are, yeah.»
You paused once again, not really sure how to continue the conversation and pondering whether you should add anything in your detailed report to Lando. You heard him humming briefly, signaling he wanted to speak up again. «When… When will you see each other again?» As soon as Lando ended the question, your fingers harshly twisted the thread they had been holding, while you were still looking down at the bed. «I don’t know… he’s busy this week, and I’m coming to Imola with Charles, so definitely not as soon as we’d like.» «Well, you should invite him to Monaco for the Grand Prix, if he’s free. He’s a sportsman, he would enjoy it.» «Invite him so that you can pester him with questions and my whole family can disapprove of both him and me? Or you want us to get caught in a storm of paparazzi and twitter threads of how irresponsible Leclerc’s little defenseless sister is?» Lando tsked and you could almost see his brows knitting in frustration. «Don’t try to steal my job and make it a big deal when things are that simple. You love each other? Yes. Then no one can say a thing. But even if you two were just fucking around, I mean…» he paused. «You should be free to hang out with whoever. It’s nobody’s business.» «It isn’t only about me, Lan… I think he would get in bigger trouble than I would. It seems like in his sport everything is blown out of proportion.» «A man who understands the struggle.» Lando added, bittersweet. «But what is all this secrecy anyway? I don’t trust someone who can’t even tell you what he does for a living.» «Lan, I just could tell he was being honest… Plus, he really looks like an athlete.» «And couldn’t you tell which sport he practices by his body shape?» «No, he’s really fit overall, there’s no prominent feature.» you shook your head. «He told me that he loves cycling, but usually riders have a smaller frame, right? I have no clue, Lan.» «Guess you just love some mystery man, don’t you?» Lando was grinning, you could tell. «Well, I haven’t told him everything about me either, so it’s only fair…» you breathed out. «I’m so scared of his reaction when he finds out about my family…» «You make it sound like you’re the daughter of an Italian mafia boss.» «You know what I mean by that…» «Yeah, I do. And you know that I think it’s silly.» You paused, gaze still down, in reflection. «It’s going to be fine. Stop overthinking, you little muppet.»
>>♥<<
Earphones plugged in, you scrolled through some of the pics you had taken with Carlos on Playa de el Cañuelo only a couple of days earlier. The sand between your toes, the warm breeze, the sun kissing your skin already felt like a thin memory and the moments, the touches you had shared with Carlos desperately ghostly.
Laying in bed at night, the apartment become quieter compared to the chatter of the dinner you had had with your family, you had been unable, despite vainly trying, to keep your mind off your little escapade. You had, therefore, found yourself stumbling upon some stolen shots of him, shirtless, hair wet and shiny, drops of water sliding on his tanned skin. You could anticipate its warmth, because you had felt it; you could almost evoke his fingers tracing your body with gentleness and precision, making you gasp. Loosening your muscles in delight, you swiftly slipped your right hand under your leggings and underwear, giving relief to your core through friction and light touches.
Carlos’ absence had left a void which you found unbearably underwhelming: love-bombing for three days had got you used to his ways, to his constant physical touch – which, you figured, was probably his favorite love language, since he couldn’t stray his hands away from your body – and now that you were laying in a single-size and empty bed, mind full of hopes and desires, you coped as you could, shutting your eyes and trying to reproduce Carlos’ skilled movements with your fingers, gradually increasing the pace, biting your lip as not to let out a single noise. I want you to be louder, baby. You knew that if Carlos were there, he would rub you hard enough to make you cry and beg out loud for more; he would not care of your brothers resting in their rooms only a couple of meters away and he would pay no attention but to you only, sucking on every corner of your breast, down in your inner thighs, leaving a trail of kisses to reach your-
S♥O is calling . . . Decline <-   -> Answer
You nearly yelped as you felt your left hand vibrate because of the call. Heart pounding out of your chest, partly because of the unexpected call, partly because you were in the middle of something, you hurriedly swiped to answer. «Hola, baby!» «Hi.» Carlos, who at first wasn’t looking at the screen in order to get comfortable on a beanbag chair, raised a brow: you had spoken so low your greeting was almost inaudible, your room barely lit by a table lamp. «Why are you whispering?» «My brothers are in the rooms next to mine, I can’t make too much noise.» «Haven’t told them about me yet?» he smirked. «No. They can be a bit protective.» «Well, then tell them not to open their socials on the… 22nd of May.» You frowned, taken aback. «What happens...?» «I talked to my management, and I settled everything for us to go public with our relationship. That weekend I’ll be in Monaco for a competition, so I thought there was no better occasion.»
You stared at the screen, brain racing at two hundred miles an hour: Charles had asked you to be with him for the race, but it didn’t mean you were obliged to stay attached to his hips every single second. And even if you had to skip some sessions, nothing was more deserving of your time than to keep close to Carlos, support him and stick with him in such a delicate moment for him and for you both. It wasn’t even a question. «If you’re okay with it, of course.» Carlos added, an enquiring look on his face. «Uh? Yes! Of course, I mean…» you sighed. «My brother asked for my presence at one of his races but he’s in Monaco too, so I’ll be running to you whenever I can, I promise. I’d desert completely him for you, but I can’t.» «I see.» Carlos nodded small to himself. «He must love you a lot to ask you to be with him every time.» «He’s been pretty insistent since Miami.» you smiled. «Why? Did you bring him good luck?» he smirked, raising a brow. «Hmm… Yeah, kind of.» you said, thinking of the podium picture Lando had sent you with Charles spraying champagne in the background.
Carlos sank deeper into the beanbag sack, keeping silent. «What?» you asked at his reaction, still trying to keep your volume low. «Can’t believe I need to thank him for having met you in Miami.» «Bad thing, uh?» «Yep, because I can just sense that once you introduce me as your boyfriend he’ll turn into a cockblocker.» At first, you giggled at his comic frustration and at the – probably true – assumption he had made; then your attention landed on the deeper meaning of the sentence and lingered on its last word, that had your core throb suddenly. You hadn’t stop slowly and lazily rubbing yourself, almost unconsciously, staring at Carlos spread out on the sack chair, and you definitely found it impossible not to keep touching when he represented such a strong and influential visual clue to your yearning. «Are you good?» Carlos’ voice woke you up from your trance: not sure about what to do or say, feeling once again near your release, you leaned your head on the pillow. «I… Please, don’t judge me.» you whispered in plead. «Of course I won’t. What’s the matter?» «I was… I am…» you bit your lower lip, frowning as you felt the jolt of pleasure approaching. «…masturbating to you. I miss you.» Carlos grinned affectionately at those words, finally able to interpret the subtle twitch of your shoulder he had been quite distracted by all along. «I miss you too, love. And there’s nothing to be ashamed of.» The hoarseness of his voice. Your core clenched around nothing just by him talking. «Are you close?» His tone had turned almost serious, consequently lower; you nodded through whines, at this point quite failing at the proposition of keeping absolutely silent. «Wanted to make a mess on the sheets before even going to bed? Wanted your brothers to walk in on you while screaming my name, uhm? Like you did on the beach while riding my cock, you remember that?» Only a couple of sentences and you were over the edge. You pressed your lips together, keeping your fingers on your clit to enjoy its throbbing and the riding out of your orgasm, wishing it’d never end. «Fuck, I’d like to be there on the bed next to you.» Carlos sighed, almost talking to himself. «Feel better, now?» «Feel amazing.» you breathed out. «I’m really sorry we can’t hang out until next week.» «It’s not your fault, Carlos. We’ll manage.» you reassured him.
As you leaned forward, sitting on the bed and seemingly about to get up, Carlos mimicked you on his beanbag chair. «Do you need to go?» he asked. «I’ll go clean up and then straight to bed.» you smiled. «What about you?» «I wanted to go to bed too, but I think I’ll need to take care of my boner first.» You covered your mouth to prevent your giggles from echoing louder in your room. «Sorry!» «Don’t worry, I was already pretty hard when I saw you in pajamas on the bed, so…» «So?» «So stop teasing me any further!» he laughed. «Good night, y/n.» «Sweet dreams, lover boy.» you joked with a fond smile on your lips.
>>♥<<
Exiting the bathroom after cleaning up, you decided to go grab a glass of water in the kitchen, still flushed by the steam of the situation.
Moving in the dark only helped momentarily by the whitish light of the fridge, knowing every centimeter of the house like the back of your hand, you startled as the light was switched on. «Oh, didn’t see you.» Charles seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, pulling a sheepish smile while getting close to the fridge. «I was thirsty.» you said, taking a sip from your newly filled glass. «Yeah, me too.» he said, grabbing from the fridge the bottle you had just put back in.
You gripped the counter with your free hand, wishing to escape him as soon as possible, but he was quick to pour himself a glass and join you alongside the marble. The glass against your skin felt as cold as the silence falling on you both. Growing embarrassed, you glanced at him, drawing his own interest on you. «Your cheeks are bright red… Are you okay? Do you feel like you have a fever?» As Charles leaned over to you, full of concern and thoughtfulness – too unexpected and unwelcome, if coming from him –, threatening to touch your skin as to prove the temperature of its surface, you flinched backwards, avoiding him. «No, I’m fine! I… Guess I should change the duvet, it’s still the wintery one.» He raised a brow in a quick, frustrated move. «Isn’t it the sunburn?» he asked, sharp. Sunken. Guilt pervaded you, head to toe. «Oh, uhm… No, I don’t think so.» you stood in silence. «Charles, the sunburn was just a lie…» «I know.» On pins and needles, you waited patiently for him to carry on, knowing there was more when he turned around to face you. «Where did you go?» «To Provence, I told you.» you sipped. «You flew off the country.» Charles kept staring at you with a knowing look, waiting for an answer. «Freak, can’t even trust Lorenzo…» you snorted. «He told me he accompanied you to the airport.» «Fine.» you took another sip. «I was in Spain.» Charles nodded to himself. «Did you go with anyone?» «No, I was alone. Last minute decision.» «I see.»
Charles retreated, thoughtful, staring at the bottom of his glass. Had you always been this distant? Had he ever had you closer than this? One step away, about to graze you if he only reached out, and still miles away from each other. Sometimes he wondered if he could’ve done anything not to splinter the relationship between the two of you: instead of blaming himself, he took it out with fate, destiny, whoever had decided that his only passion in life would make him hop on planes all over the world, putting most of his relationships at risk. But what if it had been him all along? What if he could’ve done something to prevent it? What if not keeping in touch with you enough was a burden placed on his shoulders only? «I’m… I’m sorry for what I said, last week. You’re free to choose who to hang out with, but I was frustrated. I never get to see you all often and you deliberately cancelling the rare time I’m here got me mad. Sorry.» «We were both petty. It’s fine, Cha’.» You weren’t his little sister anymore. You had suddenly turned into an adult, and it was unbelievably hard for him to acknowledge that he couldn’t treat you like a baby anymore, that you could have different plans and willing. Separate lives; nothing but a surname, a roof and a hurtful past shared between the two.
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Despite Imola not being particularly sunny on Thursday morning, you decided to shield your sight with the sunglasses Carlos had stolen and given back to you in Spain. As if it wasn’t a clear enough sign of your unavailability to pictures, interviews and any type of approach, you kept your eyes glued to the phone engaging in a way more interesting pastime than looking at a crowded paddock.
> I hate it already and I’ve been here for barely ten seconds lol I know, without me any place is boring
You grinned.
> unfortunately true 🥲 > how are things there? crowded and busy my first task begins literally now I’ll text you later ♥      > love you ♥
You huffed, putting your phone down. «Y/n, right?» You scrutinized head to toe the woman dressed in red who had got closer to you, quickly guessing she could be a media manager by the obsessive worry she held her phone with. «Yes.» «Good! Charles asked us to give you a garage tour, so you’ll be joining the one we reserve for our guests, which starts in a few minutes. Please, follow me!»
Annoyed beyond comprehension, wondering why in the world your brother had decided to put you through such a torture – was it vengeance for having missed his family boat day? He was a menace, you had always known. He had told you he was sorry only to let your guards fall down and trick you right after, when you least expected it… –, you followed the staff, carelessly strolling in the back corridor of the box, reaching the garage. Too outraged to notice your surroundings, you paid no attention to the words the woman said (something about waiting for the other VIP guests) and wandered around mindless, gazing at the rows of headsets on the wall, some screens and the cars covered by black sheets. Charles had you trapped in his own hamster wheel: the fact that he liked it wasn’t a good reason to force you in there as well. You knew nothing about driving and you couldn’t care less. Literally, it was a heated discussion topic with Lando as well, because there was nothing attractive to you in risking your life at 300 km/h. Absolutely nothing. Knowing Charles, he had planned your entire day to avoid losing track of you as it had happened in Miami. It wasn’t established in your deal. Little shit.
Still fuming at the thought, carefully intending to search a boutique nearby – if any existed in that God forgotten Italian village – and force him to buy the most expensive dress of the lot, you snatched your sunglasses away, not bearing the thought of them being Charles’. Phone vibrating in your pocket, you grabbed it and glanced at it.
1 new message from S♥O love you too
His words melted your rage like snow under the brightest sun: they warmed your whole chest, making a smile linger on your lips. Hearing people talking and walking into the garage, you raised your eyes from the screen; in the process, you involuntarily locked gaze with someone who seemed to be looking in your direction. And you froze. To be fair, you could tell he had been frozen longer than you had and that, in fact, he had caught your attention exactly because he was already standing still the moment you looked around you in the room. Carlos’ doe eyes were meters away from you, as his body was wrapped in the Ferrari merch you were so used to seeing in your brother’s wardrobe, standing with his phone in his hands, like you were, lips parted in astonishment and confusion.
An unmistakable laugh emerging from the back of the garage together with the flow of new people put you in alarm, which was justified as soon as Charles strolled casually his way into the box: you immediately looked away from Carlos, terrified that small interaction could ever be caught. As if you could slow down your heart thundering in your chest.
«What are you looking at?» Carlos turned his head to Charles, who was leaning on the wall next to him. «Nothing.» Why would you be there? You had a VIP pass hanging around your neck. Maybe you had got it thanks to your brother being a famous athlete… But he couldn’t spot anyone else among the guests around your age who could be your sibling; no one was as beautiful as you, no one even got near your perfection. Did you know? Had you found out he was a F1 driver and decided to surprise him, to confront him? After all, the real mystery was how you hadn’t managed to discover it yet…
«I’m doing the tour, today.» Charles plainly said. «What? You never want to.» Carlos smiled, knitting brows. Looking at his teammate's casual pose, arms crossed and sunglasses on, chewing on a gum, Carlos suddenly realized something; and he wished he could turn around to compare him to you, as doubts and hypotheses sprung in his mind. «Hello, everyone!» But Charles had already gathered and greeted the guests, and Carlos found himself surrounded by mechanics to proceed with the seat fit.
Needless to say, you understood nothing of what Charles said. Hyperaware of your surroundings, you tried to peek at Carlos, who talked to various team people – probably engineers –, then climbed into the cockpit and did checks you couldn’t see the purpose of. Charles occasionally threw dimpled smiles to you while speaking, both hoping to entertain you and getting on your nerves, well knowing you couldn’t pull a tantrum at his workplace. In five minutes, the activity inside the garage died down: Charles had dismissed you all, and you had glimpsed Carlos getting out of the car. «Next, you’ll visit the hospitality. Follow me, this way!» As the same woman you had met earlier gestured to all the guests to form a group behind her, you reluctantly entered the corridor towards the exit, not before glancing back, desperate to see Carlos one last time. You almost gasped as you saw him quickly step towards you, who were then forced to face forward, somehow fearful: you could just feel his silhouette towering yours as he chased you close.
Before you knew it, in the mid of the corridor, he had grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside a small room, shutting the door behind him. What now? You had little to no time to elaborate the situation, to master the catastrophic impact of Carlos being a F1 driver and Charles’ teammate; putting pieces together, the overall picture still had blurry borders and it shook before your sight. In that fraction of eternity – since meeting Carlos seemed to have halted time –, though, locking gaze with him, you realized a deeper truth. He was in front of you, flesh and bones, body and soul. He was the man you had incoherently fallen in love with in such a short amount of time and whom you couldn’t let go. At unison, two listeners tuned into the same radio station and moving to the beat of the same song, you leaned close to each other and you pressed lips upon lips, body upon body. You felt Carlos holding you tight in his embrace, afraid it was only a vision, a fathom, a ghostly appearance, and you clung onto his shoulders stronger to reassure him, since you definitely weren’t planning on withdrawing from his touch.
It took long to stop the kiss and get to talking; somehow, you both were always discovering a new corner of lips you craved to tease, to nibble at, to smother with kisses. Once you felt Carlos’ breath hitch and his movements ceased, as he tried to get your attention in order to speak up, you braced yourself for his words. «Why are you here?» he let out in one breath. «My brother… the  one who’s an athlete…» you inhaled. «That’s Charles.» Carlos spaced out, and you showed him a sympathetic smile while caressing his cheek with fondness. «You’re from Monaco…» «Yep.» you kept brushing his skin, appreciating the smoothness of it, able to guess he might have shaved that same morning. «You were in Miami for the race, weren’t you?» You nodded in small movements, waiting for his reaction. «But like, how didn’t you recognize me? Did you pretend not to know?» «I told you I never went to Charles’ races. I’m not interested in F1, I’ve never watched it on tv…» «At least I know it wasn’t a lie, then…» he leaned his head back, sighing.
There was no way of hiding the hint of fear you felt while biting your lip, examining Carlos’ expressions as they changed rapidly. Through it all, though, he never retreated from your touch, keeping you tight in his arms. «What a mess…» he muttered under his breath. «He can’t say a thing, it’s not up to him to decide who I’m dating-» «Y/n, there are… dynamics that you can’t understand. It’s much more than an overprotective-brother matter.» «Then what is it?» «Y/n!» Carlos shut his eyes in annoyance as he heard his teammate, your brother, searching and calling for you. «Y/n? Guys, did you see my sister?» In mutual agreement, you stared at each other while reluctantly loosening the embrace; taking a sharp breath in, Carlos then placed his hand on the knob and opened the door. «She was being nosy in the strategy room. She said she got lost.» Without paying too much attention to Carlos’ justifying words, Charles only addressed you. «Go reach Arthur and mom, we’re having lunch at the hospitality together.» You simply nodded, regretfully walking out the garage without sparing a last glance at Carlos, who was then leaning against the door frame. As the Spaniard was about to follow you and exit the box too since his duties were carried out, he felt a hand wrap and drag his arm to prevent him from leaving. «Y/n is my sister.» Carlos tried to play it cool and smirked. «I didn’t know anything about her.» «And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to always be.» Charles stepped closer to Carlos, never letting his smile falter. «Don’t get near her.» Something about his eyes, despite the attempt of coming off as friendly, something feral, almost murderous struck Carlos and left his heart blue, aware that there was nothing he could possibly do to change Charles’ disposition towards him. At the same time, however, he had to restrain himself from barking at his teammate: Carlos had sisters himself and had experienced protectiveness towards them, but he had never gatekept their existence from the entire world as Charles had done with you. He had never seen a picture of you, never known a younger Leclerc was part of the family… Cutting you off from his passion and his job only to then plead you to be a part of his life back again and suddenly dragging you around the world was simply selfish. He could tell why you would always tense up whenever you mentioned your arguments and your lacking relationship with him, and if you knew on which terms Carlos and Charles were, maybe you would’ve backed him up. Maybe you would’ve picked his side instead of Charles’, as everyone else did.
No one could deny how much Charles was the most liked, protected and favored driver out of the Ferrari pair, and this partiality unluckily showed through divisions inside the team, which no one dared speak about. Mechanics, media staff, engineers: Charles had to be cherished like a baby prince, able to obtain anything, keeping people’s hearts wrapped around his fingers, to the point he could throw ultimatums and threat to leave the team and gain, in turn, the dismissal of a team principal with a favorable replacement. 
Deep down, Carlos knew it was no one but Ferrari’s fault, with the team who had let Charles progressively identifying with the team until losing him would have a tremendous negative impact on the brand, and most of all everyone relied on him for the title championship’s fight without even considering any other person. They had made him too important, and now they couldn’t afford to lose him, even if this meant sacrificing their other driver. They had already signed Hamilton before the season had even started. And that Charles himself didn’t like Carlos much, well, signs were between the lines, for the ones who could read them properly. He had beaten Charles in the end of the first year as teammates, though people seemed to forget it. He had secured the only win of the team in the 2023 season, and had replicated it triumphantly in Australia. What did he have to do to shine as bright? What did he have to do to be… chosen?
>>♥<<
You waited in the interstice between Ferrari and McLaren’s hospitalities, barely hid in the shadow, sunglasses purposely on to avoid crossing gaze with the crowd walking up and down the paddock. Carlos had texted you, saying he would reach you as soon as lunch with the team would be over; on your hand, you had finished eating quite early since you felt no big appetite, sickened by a pounding question. Had you rushed things with Carlos? The question left your mouth dry, your hands clammy. He had seemed too hesitant, too fearful, and at first too slow to commitment, always managing to pull out excuses as to why he wasn’t ready to go public. What if it had been a fleeting moment? But how could all of it be a lie? Lying in the sand, limbs intertwined, giggling and whispering slices of life to each other as the sun set down.
A sigh revealed Carlos’ presence aside you. «I’m going to be brief. Things between me and Charles are a mess, when it comes to dynamics within the team. It’s not even hate, it’s way more subtle than that…» «It’s competition.» «Unfair competition.» he spatted. «He knows the team will always back him up, whereas I’m currently without a seat for next year.» You shot your wide opened eyes to him. «What?» «I was negotiating the renewal when they suddenly announced another driver they had been in contact with for quite a long time. The team told me nothing.» You passed a frustrated hand on your face, trying to wash away mental fog. «You don’t want Charles to be on your tail more than he is now, I guess.» «I don’t want him to force you to choose either him or me.» he stared at you. «Because you can’t help choosing him.» «No! I don’t care about him if this is the way he treats people! And why would you assume I wouldn’t choose you? I…» You halted after suddenly noticing your hands were now resting on his chest; maybe too much of an intimate gesture, but delicate enough to soften Carlos’ expression, sewed with pain. «You?» «Y/n!» You stepped back abruptly, before even turning around to see who was searching for you with such a greeting, before Lando’s curly locks bounced over to you. «Oh, Carlos!» the Brit smiled sheepish. «Do you two… know each other?» A F1 driver recognizing you right away with sunglasses on and cheering you as if nothing happened, only to be clearly surprised and slightly embarrassed locking gaze with him. Math wasn’t mathing.
Carlos smiled, genuinely curious as to why his old teammate had approached you – or tried to, before noticing the presence of a third wheeler – so confidently when, according to you and your brother’s words, no one in the paddock knew a thing about you. «No, not really. She is a VIP guest Charles asked me to treat good. Probably a friend of his.» Carlos grinned. «Do you know each other?» You could tell by the tone that the question, though his eyes were on Lando, was actually directed at you as well, and you could easily imagine the confusion and the frustration reigning in Carlos’ head. «Uhm, yeah.» Lan said, unsure. «We’re friends.»
>>♥<<
The knob clicked closed behind you. It had been a long day: trying not to show your inner turmoil, trying not to think about him too much, trying to make sense of the situation that had formed before your eyes in the span of a morning.
we need to talk i'll let you in my hotel room, i'm at the same floor charles is 8.30
You glanced at every clock your eyes could spot, compulsively checking the time on your phone’s screen, always managing to forget it and therefore forced to take a look again. Hours drew longer and longer as the moment approached, they projected shadows on your thoughts, dark and frightening.
Clearing your throat, you knocked on his door lightly and it surprised you when you felt it retreat from your touch almost immediately, opening. You quickly shuffled inside, hoping not to be seen by anyone in the corridor. Carlos vaguely glanced at you, as you could tell he was deep in thought. Not sure what to start with, you grabbed his hands, fidgeting with his fingers so that you keep your head low staring at them. «How does Lando know you?» «We met in Monaco without knowing that… that he was him and I was me. We became friends before Charles could even find out.» «And how was Charles okay with it, given his “no sister” policy with us drivers?» «I guess he couldn’t do much, at that point. But Lan told me that he had to swear he wouldn’t say a word about me.» «The only secret he was ever able to keep.» Carlos scoffed. «It had to be the most precious girl, of course.» You raised your eyes at him. «What do we do now?» Carlos didn’t answer, choosing to enjoy the silence and draw you near with his arm; he let you adjust in the hug, as you wrapped his waist, while he left a kiss on your head. That shower of love reminded you how much you had longed for his presence; despite being hundreds of kilometers away from home, you still somehow felt in the right place. You knew what Carlos was about to say. Yet, his words came late, choosing to settle in the embrace a little more, adjusting just so that he could wrap you tighter and fit perfect. «Charles can’t know.» You shut your eyelids close, inhaling deeply. Embarking in a secret relationship wasn’t on the plan, weeks earlier. Neither was Carlos. >>♥<< His fingertip traced your skin, removing unwanted strands of hair out of your face, watching you sleep in his arms with a tender smile. He let his digit draw soothing lines on your forehead, willing to undo its knit. It wasn’t going to be easy on any of you, lying to half world. And yet, no other choice was left.
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«Did you save me as “so” because it stands for “significant other”?» Your cheek inseparable from the comforting warmth of his chest, you eyed up at him, irises glinting with amusement.
Carlos had invited you in his changing room inside Ferrari’s hospitality in order to chill and relax a bit before FP3 in Monaco. You were surprised to see there wasn’t a lot of space, forced to lay on a small couch. «Where did you learn that?» «Internet, of course.» he said, matter-of-factly. «What, did you search the short form of “smooth operator”?» Giggling, you threw another jokingly glance at him, noticing his brain gears moving as he spaced out. «I never realized…», he shifted his gaze on you, «until now.» Willing to get closer, you flipped around and climbed upwards, resting your hands on his broad chest, still smiling at him. «You’re my so, in every way.» You left a quick peck on his soft lips, biting your own in awe, admiring how lost he seemed. «So?» «So.» you tenderly brushed your nose against his. «It’ll be my secret code for you, from now on.» «I want it to be a secret code for me too.» Carlos’ lips curled in a pensive pout, while you couldn’t stop yourself from leaving another peck on them, slower this time, but still feather-like. «Then, you’re my… Sexy Owner?» You both burst out laughing. «What? It’s true, you’re both sexy and you own me.» «I don’t own you, Carlos.» you eye rolled, still grinning. «But we own each other.» he firmly grabbed your waist, as you still laid comfortable over him. «Or at least I own you, according to what you said last night…» The light pat he gave on your bun, paired up with his breath fanning on your neck triggered a cheerful chuckle in you. «What about Sweet Oath?» You looked back at him. «An oath?» «An oath of love. That’s why it’s sweet.» «You’re the one being sweet.»
Exchanging another small kiss, you got startled as Carlos’ alarm went off to warn him about the light training he was meant to do before free practice. «Never lasts long enough.» he grunted, leaving another kiss on your lips. «Are we hanging out tonight?» you asked, climbing off him reluctantly to let him go. «Maybe right after qualifying. I need to attend a dinner with sponsors.» «Business nights, uh?» He grinned, as you both stood up. «Be careful when you exit the room. Wait here a few minutes.» «Good luck.» «It’s just free practice.» he grinned.
After he had closed the door, you sat back again on the red pillowed coach, taking a closer look to the furniture: a painting with both Carlos and his father; a Spanish flag, to which you smiled reminded of the trip to Playa de el Cañuelo; the white varnish of the wardrobe. That small corner of Monaco was dressed in Carlos' clothes as the only fortress of freedom in a country so foreign to him and so dearly close to you. The thought that he'd be living in Monaco too pretty soon and that seeing each other wouldn't be a problem through his off season quickened your heartbeat. Your love was growing fast, faster than anyone racing in those streets.
Hearing nothing but stillness outside the room, you opened the door and got out without suspicion, ready to go downstairs. «Y/n?» Struck, you stopped and raised your gaze, who was following your feet's movement. Lorenzo. He was in the guests’ area of the second floor, phone in hand, staring right in your direction. «Yes?» Fuck, you knew he had seen you. You could read it in his face, in the way the brows wrinkled his forehead, in the unsure tone he had used to call you, in the slow steps he made towards you. He halted, pausing to place his phone back in the pocket. «All good?» «Yes, just need to use the restroom real quick.» He nodded small as a sign to let you go. Confirmed, he had noticed. He knew you were lying.
>>♥<<
Waving back to fans behind the pitlane fence as a form of greeting and thanking, Charles rushed back inside the garage. The love he received in Monaco was comparable to nothing else. Walking those streets, getting to drive them and own an entire country, wrapped around his fingers, was quite the power at such a young age. Still, Charles didn’t feel pressure from it, nor the need of controlling or maintaining it: when you’re comfortably in the lead, you only see the road ahead and you don’t focus on the position you’re in.
Entering the box, searching for Andrea, Charles didn’t expect to find you engaged in a conversation with his teammate. About F1. «… and they could undercut us.» «Undercut? What does that mean?» Watching Carlos talk and gesture data on a screen, hearing his words half eaten up by the noise of the mechanics cleaning the garage, Charles didn’t stray his stare once. The way his hand lingered on the small of your back, almost without touching it but still hovering on you like a magnet's pole meeting one of the same sign, not able to make contact and yet forcing proximity, pressed an emergency button in Charles' brain. And even more so, as you gazed intently at the screen, willing to follow the Spaniard's explanations. Because when you’re in the chase, the subordinate position you’re in never ceases to pound in your head as the deadliest sin.
Before he could even prevent himself, Charles was already walking towards you with hands stuffed down into his loose sweatpants. «This is why in case of safety cars it's best to-» «Pit so no one undercuts you. Right, Carlos?» He knew. Inside his eyes, Charles could read annoyance for the interruption, as he saw your attention shifting from Carlos to himself. «Why are you guys talking about undercut? What did I miss?» «Carlos was teaching me some stuff on strategies, since I had some questions.» «You? Questions on strategy?» Charles scoffed, almost jokingly. «And why didn't you ask me instead?» «Because Carlos is a great teacher.» you grinned. «And he was the only one available.» Two bullets shot at once. A glint, the fastest and subtlest, flashed in Carlos' dark irises, bright enough to catch Charles' attention. Neither of them was keen on the idea of losing, but if there was anything Charles didn't want to be won over was a stranger engaging with you and getting your undivided attention better than he had ever done himself. He couldn't bear anyone winning you. «So?» The angles of your mouth curved in a smile unconsciously, hearing that secret code escape Carlos’ lips with such a teasing tone; and it tasted even sweeter when Charles decided to simply walk away, answering nothing to the cruel evidence.
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White and black waved at the cross line, as a red car flew on the straight. The jewel had been caste onto his long due awaited Prince’s crown: Charles had won in Monaco. Emotion brimmed in every pair of eyes you met. First Lorenzo, then Pascale hugging you up, you stared at the screen and tried to make sense of your brother’s team radio being broadcasted, while you tried not to lose Carlos out of sight through the wide window giving you a majestic glimpse of the Principality. You all ran downstairs, flooding the pitlane to welcome the winner, to see his fist brought up to the sky, to hear the screams and cheers muffled by his helmet, to release your breath as soon as Charles sighed in relief too.
As you followed his red suit launching into the mechanics crowd, you swallowed hard at the scene, Charles ruffling Arthur’s hair and hugging each other with joy. It was less than a couple of meters away from you, and yet it felt like joy was a matter only to be shared between them, as if that win they so much ached for was only meant to drown you down in a painful defeat.
Charles eyed you behind Ferrari’s president Elkan but didn’t linger on you much, swamped by other people congratulating him; Carlos, instead, embracing the man who was unconsciously guarding you from the track – said Elkan –, he took the opportunity to make a deep eye contact. You noticed he must be tired or bothered by thoughts too, and if only cameras weren’t capturing every single second of the happy chaos filling the boulevard, you would’ve leaned in to leave a kiss on those soft, plump lips of his.
>>♥<<
«I know you might disagree, but… Today was a really special day for Charles and it’d be great if you could join the celebrations tonight, with him. With us.» Your mother hummed to Lorenzo’s words, glancing at you to check your reaction, which was more than slow to show. «Charles, a-and Arthur as well, would be so happy to have us all together, like the family we are.» The family you were. You stood in silence, eyes purposefully avoiding theirs not to dwell on that unhappy phrasing, carefully pondering and recalling the brief conversation you and Carlos had barely managed to hold after the podium celebration back in his small room inside the hospitality, easily hiding when the full attention was placed on Charles. There’d probably be a celebration of P3 too. «Dad would’ve liked it as well.» Pascale added. And what then? Wouldn’t a chance to see Carlos be more than enough to set resentment and old rotten feelings aside? «Yes.» Lorenzo agreed, lowering his head. «Where is he partying?» you asked, monotone. «How come where? At Jimmy’z, of course.» Your eyeroll was accompanied by a sharp inhale, regretting already the resolution you had just formed. «I’ll go home as soon as I’m tired or bored.» «Are you really coming?» Lorenzo asked surprised, as if he had just made peace with the fact you would turn the invitation down. «But of course! You can go home whenever you feel like it, since we’ll probably stay up very late… You’ll make him happy just by being present for five minutes.» «Don’t give me ideas I wouldn’t hesitate to put into work.» you said, teasingly. Pascale grinned wide, sincerely glad to have all the Leclerc’s on the same page – quite a novelty, lately. «Good! Do you need help choosing your dress? Styling your hair, maybe?» «No, mom, I’m fine. I can manage.» «Okay, I see… Always the self-made woman!»
>>♥<<
The shiver and the adrenaline coursing through your blood as soon as you put foot in the club inevitably sprung a smirk upon your lips. You knew it was a mistake, and still, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling for it. You, Carlos and your brother dancing and getting wasted in the same room.
You had felt it right as you posed against the Jimmy’z cardboard next to Charles for some family shots, it was in the nice breeze travelling down your skin: you knew it was on you, and you only flashed smiles to the camera because you were aroused by that thought. Carlos’ stare. It told you everything you needed to know as soon as it found you among the crowd and rested on you; his eyelids had widened in surprise, while he frowned, worry and concern concealed by a layer of undeniable excitement. In that quick exchange of looks, it was made painfully obvious to both of you that staying away from each other would be a challenging task, almost impossible, if only Charles’ delightful expression wouldn’t haunt your sight left and right.
«Lando! Lan, congrats, bae!» you slurred, lacing your arms around his neck. «Thanks, babe! I wasn’t on the podium, but I appreciate.» he laughed. He then paused and checked you out with smiling eyes, trying to interpret your weirdly affectionate state. «Who did you get all this cute and worked up for?» «Uh?» Lando had to repeat the question through the loud cheers of Charles’ friends near you. «Whose heart are you trying to steal being this giggly and adorable?» Eyes bored deep into his, suppressing a smile biting your lower lip, you faked the purest honesty and innocence of mind. «No one’s.» Your hidden mischief didn’t go unnoticed to Lando, who nonetheless decided to let it slide off his mind, letting his gaze wander in the packed floor. «Want to dance?» His quick request caught you off guard, making you turn around to him with a puzzled expression. You had barely even realized his hand was resting friendly on your naked shoulder, his fingers squeezing it gently as to silently repeat the offer. «Yes, sure!» Lando vibed to the beat, taking small sips while flashing smiles at you: he could see you were having fun and definitely not sparing any ounce of energy, letting your hair sway left and right to the rhythm. Until, a flash. Behind you, in the sea of dancing bodies, he had caught someone flicking his eyes on you. Lando decided to take another sip, considering it wouldn’t be unusual for people to notice you. But then it struck again, and he managed to catch the person’s face. «What’s wrong?» you half-screamed at Lando, trying to make yourself be heard. «Nothing, thought I saw someone I know.» He then brushed your arm lightly. «I’ll come back in a second.»
>>♥<< Drink in hand – an unnecessary one, since you were already quite tipsy, but absolutely required to argue with Arthur like lords far from the dancing chaos – you reasoned out loud that the only good thing about Jimmy’z was the music. He chuckled in agreement, taking a sip. «The venue is cool, though, don’t you think?» he asked. «Would be better off without those naked girls flashing everyone.» «They’re not naked!» Arthur smugly replied. «But I see why you’re not interested.» «Are you?» you asked, disgusted. «I mean…» You scoffed at his collected reticence. «C’mon, don’t play the goody two shoes! I bet you wouldn’t complain if it was a sixpack on full display.» «But I don’t want to be flashed every single second. I’m not always in the mood, you know?» you teased, placing your gaze back to the crowd. Arthur kept staring at you, raising a brow and pulling a knowing smile. «Oh, really?» «Yes.» «Then why have you been dancing like crazy all over Lando while wearing your revenge dress?» You looked at him, genuinely puzzled. «Revenge dress?» «This is the dress you wore the night after breaking up with that dickhead of your ex-boyfriend when we partied at Buddha’s. It’s the “partying ‘til I forget my name” sexy dress.» The realization made you laugh uncontrollably hard, spitting out the sip you had taken back into the glass and obliging you to lean on Arthur’s arm for support. Of course, you couldn’t refrain from laughing long enough to let your brother know how drunk you actually were, how unstable you seemed to be on your high heels and how difficult it would be to let you go back home alone in that state.
While gripping Arthur’s arm tight for support, a trail movement at the back of the room perked your interest, and you were quick to see a group of people walking towards the VIP room, amongst which you easily spotted Charles – under his unmistakable Monaco flag – and, to your dismay, Carlos. You flung yourself away from Arthur, rushing to the VIP room door before they could reach it, dodging waiters and bodies dancing around, trying your best not to twist your ankle in the process; ignoring Carlos’ widening irises, you grabbed the shuffling flag away from Charles’ head and bore your eyes into his. «What are you doing?» you asked. «We wanted to go inside-» «I want to come in!» you pouted. Charles, already quite wasted, stared at you, seemingly unable to make sense of your weird request. He’d always thought you didn’t like the VIP room, he had it clear; still, your fingers gripping his shirt and your eyebrows knitted in plead were unequivocal signs of protest in utter contradiction with the past. It didn’t even cross his mind why he would ever deny you the access when he had, in fact, waited for you to get closer to him and join him since the very beginning. Since forever. He would always have to see you party with your friends in other clubs, purposely avoiding the one he was in, just so that you couldn’t meet him. It was a no brainer for him to giggle at you and ruffle your hair with a drunk smile, heart swelling with pride and happiness. «Of course, let’s go!»
The shades of the dim lights were blue and red, creating nice purple shadows on the black leathered couches, on the uncountable glasses placed on the coffee table, on the features of everyone sitting around you. Shameless, you couldn’t help but focus your entire attention onto seducing Carlos from across the table: index tracing the edge of your cup, taking sips from the straw while looking straight into him, crossing your legs so that the thin fabric of your dress would expose even more of your thighs. An ineffable pleasure hit you when you noticed the gleam in his dark eyes. He was hooked. You had seen him seeking relief from the heat creeping on his body, pulling away from his neck the tight-fitting shirt with a finger, shifting in his seat, first leaning over with his forearms on the thighs in order to desperately get involved in the conversation and avoid staring at you for an unreasonable amount of time, then ultimately giving up, crashing his back onto the back of the couch, manspreaded. Useless to say you fell into his trap. His smug smirk, half-lidded eyes, warned you he had very well noticed your reaction; catching you staring was the sweetest revenge, but still let him unsatisfied. He had to swipe the palm of his sweaty hands onto his trousers and swallow hard, as he watched you drink your thirst away and diverge gaze, before one of you could call out the shitshow and drag the other out of the club to finally have what you both wanted, touch starved.
Luckily for you, nobody at the table had picked up on the intense and mutual riling up competition you had started: except for Lorenzo. His eyes had followed Carlos’ body spreading wide on the couch and his clear arousal after feasting on your poses all night. Lorenzo hadn’t missed the way you had bit your lower lip, immediately taking a long sip of your drink, visibly affected by the exchange of looks with Carlos. Before he could process it any further, you abruptly popped standing up. «I’m going dancing!» Not that anyone really followed you; Charles, as well as all his friends, were deep in conversation – or, at least, drunkenly attempting to – digging up the past and cherishing the incredible victory achieved.
Carlos turned his head around, unable to stop following your silhouette everywhere like a sunflower chases the brightest star in the galaxy: you were that charming to him, that dear. «Carlos, what about you?» Carlos’ head snapped back to the table, breath almost audibly hitched, wide eyes placed on Lorenzo who had been the one to address him. He hadn’t heard the question, because he had been too caught up admiring the way your hips would sway to the rhythm, tracing imaginary lines on your neck, along your collarbone, done to the neckline of your dress… Fuck. «Sorry, I spaced out for a second. What was the question?» He knew Lorenzo hadn’t bought it, it was written in bold letters, between the lines, but Carlos acknowledged he had decided to let it drop for the moment, and he was, obviously, relieved. «How do you feel about the podium?»
You were stoked. You had rarely ever experienced such a high in your years spent in the most exclusive clubs of Monaco, and you could just feel everything was incredible: the blasting music, the drinks, the company. It was the first time you had joined clubbing with all your brothers together, and it hadn’t gone south as you had always expected to. Deep down, though, you couldn’t fake it was probably due to someone else’s presence getting your family off your mind and preventing you from focusing on anything and anyone.
He was still sitting on the couch, briefly talking to the others, but he always managed to peek at you amongst the crowd. You found the perfect hiding spot for your improvised dancing performance to Carlos behind the back of what seemed to be a guy about your age. It allowed you to momentarily disappear from his sight just enough to keep him searching for you, returning a wicked smile whenever he would small grin at you. «Are you good, mate?» Charles’ giggle alarmed Carlos once again, obliging him to nod at his teammate. «You sure? You seem a little… tense.» The chuckles and the laughter bursting from Charles’ side of the table didn’t please the Spaniard, making him rather confused. «I’m fine, actually.» They both stared at each other, Charles’ eyes sparkling in drunkenness and mischief, still smirking with both dimples on display. «I have a gift for you, Carlos.» Carlos gulped as soon as he saw Charles’ fingers gesturing as to bring something next to the table; the green eyes still fixed on him, Carlos tried to free himself from whatever was to come, reassuring Charles on the fact that if anyone needed gifts, well, that was the winner of the Grand Prix, not the third classified. «But Carlos! You aren’t turning down my gift, are you?» he said. «Because in that case, you know what they say… Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right?» Charles leaned back onto the couch, resting his arm on the top. Carlos tried to throw a last glance at you, not able to find you in the swaying sea of bodies, but as soon as he had turned his head over the dance floor, he had seen the ‘gift’ approaching, and his lips parted in surprise. And disgust. One of the many dancers hired for the VIP room, hanging around and serving tables with little to no clothes on, climbing the small three steps separating the table from the dance floor. «Never look in the mouth, but… you can take a great look at everything else.» Charles smirked wide, enjoying the embarrassment and the amused commotion he had created between his friends. As the woman took a step closer to Carlos knees, he was quick to halt her lascivious moves by standing up, driven by madness at how clearly Charles had planned it only to cause a scene and enjoy how he would entangle away from such a predicament, well knowing he couldn’t act on the rage coursing in his heated blood. Carlos’ mouth went completely dry, despite the drinks he had had in order to forget he was sitting in the lions’ cage and hideously having to socialize with people who despised him as much as he did. To forget that you were the sister of that bratty, annoying, childish prince of Monaco.
Carlos darted his eyes to Charles, fingers clenching into a fist, desperately trying not to give in and offer the reaction everyone awaited as to get him to be kicked out from the club. A shatter of glass interrupted Carlos’ trail of thoughts, making him turn his head to the noise coming from the dance floor. He noticed a waitress’ tray had crashed and wetted the floor, right above the stairs next to their table, as you rushed excuses and apologies to the girl.
Carlos was about to walk down and help you getting out of the embarrassment only to get rid of his own, but he needed no further convincing the moment he saw a pair of hands grab your waist from behind, drawing you close to his body. It was a young guy, the same you had used as a shield in the crowd, who had ultimately turned around and noticed your dancing, mistakenly thinking you were addressing him with those moves and not your boyfriend sat meters away.
«What’s your name, sweetheart?» It had escalated the moment you had tried to reach Carlos both to sneak away from the unrelenting advances and to shoo away the unwanted presence of one of the dancers near your man. «Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t had fun yet!» He had spun you around grabbing your shoulder, quick to press his body onto yours; out of fear, disgust and panic, you had pushed yourself away from him with all your might, tumbling backwards on your heels and hitting the waitress. «Leave me alone!» Carlos needed no more. His eyes renewed with fire, in no time he had reached you and had snatched those foreign, dirty hands away from you. «Are you deaf? Leave.» No matter how loud the music was, you could feel Carlos’ low voice echoing in your chest, vibrations reaching your stomach: you hadn’t been that close to him all night and his sudden presence daunted you all at once. «What? Who are you to tell me what to do?» A couple of friends of the guy backed him up, as Carlos smiled out of utter disbelief and fury. You wrapped his wrist tight, hoping to hold him back in the unknown propositions you knew he might be harboring. «Someone who could get you out of this country in less than two minutes.» You turned around, surprised to see Charles dismiss the jovial and light-hearted grin he had worn all night to put on a devilish smile, his green irises concealing a hint of madness. Carlos had wiggled out of your hold, scared that your brother could notice it, as you both stared at Charles with curiosity and bewilderment. «Maybe three, if you leave immediately and forget to come here for the rest of your life.» he added, looking down at his Richard Mille.
Peeking behind their backs, the ridicule group gulped noticing a group of bodyguards approaching. Charles flashed them back with the smile of someone who has the entire world wrapped around his fingers and manages to win it all. Still, glancing back at you, he felt no power, no control. Lorenzo had approached you and was making sure you were okay, hands grabbing your arms delicately. Carlos, who had stepped in first, didn't allow Lorenzo to take care of you alone, and stood close to you, worry painted in his eyes. And what had Charles done? What had he done for you? He hadn't even noticed you were in danger. He was so focused on himself, on the mischief he had reserved for his teammate. It was the first time you were partying together and he had left you out of his conversations, his laughs, his memories' sharing, to the point you had gone dancing alone to find the company he hadn't given you.
Charles' head started buzzing, mental fog clouding his actions. He stared at you, lost, eyes glinting in drunkenness. «I'll ask Arthur to bring you back home, okay?» Lorenzo said to you. «I'll give her a ride.» Like a magnet, your eyes flew to Carlos right as he spoke. Your brother looked at him with an inquiring look, not sure why Charles' teammate would ever consider himself adequate for the task. «You guys should all stay here and celebrate together.» Carlos smiled. «I was about to leave too.» «Well, then... Thank you, Carlos.» Lorenzo grinned while Charles blinked through the interaction without grasping the meaning, which was brutally revealed as Carlos put his hand on the small of your back and escorted you towards the exit of the VIP room. And you were gone. Again.
>>♥<<
Unbeknownst to you, inside the VIP room you had kept rather quiet, experiencing a moment of down after having drunk that much. After dancing it out and getting your adrenaline levels up with the incident, stepping back into the main floor of Jimmy'z, swamped by the overwhelming heat, you had to get a good grip on Carlos' shoulder not to lose balance. «Hey, are you good?!» Aaaand you fell. Of course. Pouting and whining, you did what Carlos hoped you didn't: throw a drunk tantrum. «I don't want to leave!» He sighed, picking you up from the ground with ease and making sure you'd stand on your own. «Be a good sister and obey your brother, huh?» «I'd only obey... you.» and with your pointer finger on his chest, you smirked at him. «Then let's go home.» «Ughh, you're no fun! I want to stay!» «Is everything okay?» The voice signaled the approaching of Lando, fast enough to take an apprehensive look at you. As soon as Carlos met the Brit’s eyes, a wave of comfort washed over him. «She's drunk and I've been told by her brothers to bring her home...» Lando raised a brow at you suddenly hugging Carlos and complaining in slurred sentences. «But she doesn't want to.» Carlo sighed, defeated. «Need help?» «Yep. Much needed.» «Y/n!» Escorted out of the club by the two of them at your sides, you only remembered getting in the passengers' seat of Carlos' car, while Lando showed him the way to your house from the backseat, with his elbow leaning just above your headrest. Thighs pressed on the luxurious leather of the Ferrari’s seat, you let out a giggle out of nowhere, not sure what was making you happy: your best friend's presence paired up with the love of your life's seemed enough.
>>♥<<
«'Right, let's get you some fresh clothes.» Lan moved quickly towards your wardrobe, knowing exactly where to search for a pair of shorts and a plain bedtime shirt. Carlos, while following his movements, flipped you upwards, since you had fallen onto the bed like a dead weight facing the mattress. «Here!» Lando joined Carlos, staring at you with a sigh. «She can't put them on herself, I guess.» «No, I don't think she can.» «So… how do we do?» Carlos reached for the hem of your top without a second thought, well used to the feeling of your warm skin on his fingers while sliding clothes off of you; spreading wide your rosy cheeks with a smile, you settled for his touches, complying to the well-practiced duet, sure it was the right reward after a night of mutual pining. It seemed like Lando's presence wasn't relevant enough, or at least it didn't cause any second thought on proceeding with the stripping down before his eyes. You raised your arms, teasingly, waiting for Carlos to remove your top, which he did, leaving you only with your bra on and your high-waisted shorts. «Give me the shirt.» Lan handed it to him, furrowed eyebrows, examining carefully Carlos' moves. Smirking, you laced your arms around his neck and strived to leave a kiss on his cheek, but suddenly aware of the Brit’s stare, Carlos gave him a sheepish smile, placing a hand on your back as you didn't unglue yourself from him. «Where’s my goodnight kiss?» Lando, brows knitted and batting eyelashes quickly, examined the careful yet tender smile blooming on Carlos’ lips after your drunk request, followed by the peck he left on your forehead. Melting under the touch, you cuddled back in bed, grinning wide like a child, while the two drivers silently switched off the lights and exited the room.
Firing up the engine, the revving noise of Ferrari’s horsepower covered partially the few words escaping Lando’s lips as a reflex of a realization. «It’s you, isn’t it?» «What?» «You’re her boyfriend. You’re the guy she met in Miami.» The sky had fallen silent, though the streets of Monaco shone and the pavement brimmed with people strolling by in search of fun. Carlos glanced briefly at Lando, who was still staring and expecting an answer; then, gripping the steering wheel, he focused back on the road, unconsciously smiling. «Is it that obvious?» «I mean…» Lan gulped, avoiding gaze. «She was trying to kiss you, what other confirmation do I need?» The smile spread wide, uncontainable at this point, fueled by the memory of the cute and clingy behavior you had shown off in front of both himself and Lando. The ride kept silent for a while, as the Brit studied Carlos’ collected calm concealed under a sweating, hot body, veins in his arms popping out the tanned skin. «She told me you were pretty secretive about it all.» «Well, I didn’t want to rush her into a crazy public relationship full of formalities.» he stopped at a traffic light. «But if you really want to know, I had planned on going public next week.» «It sounds like you won’t.» «Because we can’t.» «Why not?» Lando turned to face him. Carlos gripped the steering wheel harder and stared back at the traffic light. «Charles.» «Charles what?» «Told me to stay away from her.» he accelerated, seeing the green light. «And don’t tell me “Fuck that”, because you know I’m in no position to. I’m sure that if he wanted, he could convince the team to drop me mid-season.» «Well, I see. It sucks.» «Yeah.» Pensive for a few turns of Monaco, Lando was quick to speak up again. «But isn’t love stronger than anything else?» «You can’t make a living out of love and carelessness, you know?» «I’m just saying that… She loves you a lot.» «I do too.» «I think… I think she would give up on Charles, for you.» «I don’t want her to sacrifice anything or anyone for me, let alone her loved ones.» «Need to throw up, after this.»
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Carlos had asked you to sleep in his hotel room without too much thought; as a quite established couple, though hiding it, he just wanted to put his arms around you and feel your body heaving by his side, especially on weekends in which the tension upon his shoulder started to take a toll on him. The negotiations with Williams and Audi going south; the relationship with Charles wearing thin; the team starting to gatekeep the car development and excluding him from some technical feedback. Some days he only wanted to take a deep breath in and exhale loudly, in silence, searching for inner peace; he figured it would be easy with your sparkly presence next to him. He hadn’t anticipated seeing the situation affecting you as much. With a hand resting on your stomach, he could feel your heartbeat quicken and your breath being sharp and irregular. Even though you were both supposed to be sound asleep, the room already drowned in darkness, he could tell you were fighting your fears, your imagination running wild in open fields he knew nothing of. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, soothingly, you curled up, to become smaller and smaller, to take less space, and Carlos matched your movements pulling you closer to him.
In the morning, watching you offer him a coffee inside the hospitality with the brightest smile, he’d be left wondering: which vulnerable side you were both trying to show and conceal to his awareness. And when you cuddled in his changing room, he’d be willing to ask and address it but then stopped as you fidgeted with his fingers, delaying the answer, inevitably discouraging him from pursuing the truth. Still, whenever the two of you hid from the world to build a fort of intimacy and love - whichever place you’d find the most fitted to your hot-blooded desires: cramped in his changing room, late night sessions on the desk of the strategy department, making out in the backseat of a media van with tinted windows -, he could read the intense, swamping need of putting worries to sleep, he could taste it on your lips, on your collarbone, and he could sense it in the sweet scent of your hair, an implicit beg for freedom from an unknown chain. Through each breath, in each moan you let out, Carlos could hear faint pleads, a soft voice praying for him not to ask, not to speak, not to remind you, not to ruin the magic of the moment.
Carlos had, indeed, good reasons to think something beneath the surface was unsettling you. You felt it too, during the shared flight with your brothers; and then while stepping foot back again in the land which had brought so much happiness to you and that, still, couldn't swipe away the nasty shadow eating you alive. It followed you, haunted you.
Thursday, 20th June 2024. Written in bold letters on an article about the F1 weekend you were reading, and suddenly the gloom took shape. Seven years. Raising your eyes from the screen of your phone, you glanced at Charles, searching for the same wave of despair and melancholy your heart was overcome by, finding nothing but a light tint of blue under his eyes. Maybe you still had words entangled between your vocal folds yet to be spoken, yelled at him, buried inside your body under the compact soil of time; maybe prejudice had precluded a relationship not so unreachable or despicable as you had always imagined. Because maybe, well disguised by an uncracked mask, you were both harboring the same regret and grief. Or maybe not.
>>♥<<
You walked down the paddock marching to Ferrari’s garage, smile on full display, Charles’ gifted Ray Bans shielding you from judgment as you sported your shirt with the confidence of a star; it was loose enough for you to swim inside of it but still letting the hem of your shorts show beneath it. Ferrari 55 You didn’t miss the friendly smiles of the mechanics and engineers, who had got accustomed to your presence throughout the weeks, at the sight of the bright red merch. Quite pleased with the reaction, you glanced left and right with a single goal in mind, and as you hit it the grin grew wider, mimicking the one Carlos wore on his face. «How do I look?» You twirled around so that he could see better how the cotton draped your silhouette, clearly outlined by his imagination despite the lack of transparency. He had traced your body with his eyes, with his rough hands, with his thoughts way too much not to be obsessed by it, not to remember every single corner of it.
Charles, entering the garage in that same moment with a bit of a rush, since he was running late to the activities established for the day, distractedly took a look in your direction, only to turn his head a second time as he noticed his teammate checking you out with too much familiarity. «What’s going on here?» «Cha’! I was asking Carlos his opinion on my new outfit.» He took a moment to let his eyes scan top to bottom a couple of times, before nostalgically smiling. He had never wanted to see you on track during the kart days because your relationship wasn’t particularly good and he knew you wouldn’t agree anyway. But since F2, since your dad’s condition had started to worsen, since Baku, since his finger raised to show the Je t’aime papa on his rear wing, he had always dreamed of having you support him. He knew he was too old to hide in Pascale’s arms, but craving his little sister’s affection wasn’t as childish. Still, it was way harder to obtain. And having it now, eyes not missing the sunglasses you used as a hairband, so glad you appreciated that gift to the point you wore them that often, felt like that dream was coming true.
«So…What do you think, Carlos?» The Spaniard, a bit surprised by the ball being passed to him immediately, hesitated some more in the staring. «Red looks amazing on you.» «Does it?» you asked, coquettish, turning your shoulder a bit. Enough to show the number on the back. «Yes, it does.» Charles said, anticipating Carlos’ answer. «Now we need to get done with the social media challenge before the briefing. Right, Carlos?» «Yep. I’m coming.» As Charles turned his back to move away, Carlos seized the moment to whisper in your ear. «And my scent fits you amazingly as well…», you smirked in sync. «Did you steal it from my wardrobe?» «Maybe.» «Keep it. I want to rip it off of you tonight.» «Tonight? Thought it’d convince you to find more time for me earlier in the day, but seems like I was wrong…» Knowing you had hit a vulnerable point, you enjoyed Carlos’ hand brushing casually your hip while passing by and pretending to let you go, only to capture you with words. «I’d fuck you right now on the counter next to the helmets.» he paused, licking his ruby lips. «But since you’re trying to rile me up at work, you’ll pay the price by waiting.»
>>♥<<
2 new messages from Lando
[picture] you guys are going public or something?
You smiled staring at the photo Scuderia Ferrari had posted on X: it was a shot taken on the pit area of you with Ferrari merch – in fact, number 55’s one – and Carlos resting his hand on your waist.
> can’t a driver and his teammate’s sister pose together for a pic? they can, but… not being subtle at all here, just saying
>>♥<<
Dining at a table hidden away from Netflix crew and photographers, you chugged down water in large sips. «Did he congratulate you?» Charles smiled. «Think he wished for me to have a mechanical failure like in 2022.» You drank and drank again, hand never letting go of your glass, willing to extinguish the fire – once a mere fever – which had built up in your chest since first hearing your brothers’ words about Carlos.
An infuriating, consuming flame of love. «He pushed me off the track in China… Don't know what he'll do in his home race, starting in front of him.» «If the strategy is to save tyres, the team should ask you to keep the positions in the first stint at least.» Charles snorted at Lorenzo's reasoning. «I'm sure. Can't wait for his mother's comments defending him whatever shit Carlos does on track.» «Can you please stop?» Charles eyed you from across the table a bit surprised, visibly annoyed by the tone and the request. «Stop doing what?» «Talking shit about someone who's not present and whom you don't know a thing about.» Charles almost burst out laughing in front of you, while Lorenzo threw you a confused and alarmed look, warning you about the dangerous territory you had stepped in. «Oh, right, I don't know anything… Then tell me, what do you know about him, uh?» Out of frustration, you stood up abruptly, struggling to form a proper answer. «What I know is that you’re still a fucking child who can’t never, ever accept he’s wrong!» «Guys, tone it down.» Lorenzo said, getting up and approaching you to grab gently your arm. You brushed him off and stormed out of the room, hearing your older brother's steps following close behind you. As you were about to turn around and dismiss him, since you needed no babysitter, Lorenzo spoke the words you had expected him to spit out one month earlier. Only you weren’t expecting to hear them now. «What were you doing in Carlos' room?» You kept facing away from him, not able to move nor to answer. «Why do you keep attending race weekends only to disappear without explanation and avoid Charles and all of us like the plague?» he said, stepping forward. «Did you really think I wouldn't notice?» «Does Charles know?» you asked. «No.» he said. «But if it's serious, you should definitely tell him.» «If?» you turned around to face him. «Are you kidding me? Of course it's serious, indeed, very serious-» «Then you need to talk about it, because this doesn't only involve you but-» «I'm not listening to this bullshit, sorry.» you retreated. «You don't get to tell me how to live my life.»
>>♥<<
Watching them from the pitlane, two red dots moving in the distance, you sensed something was off. Approaching them, dots elongating into silhouettes you so well recognized, you knew something was off. Given the race just disputed – which you had followed from Ferrari’s garage, biting your lips – you kind of expected it to be, but nothing more than a scratch due to adrenaline still running high. Still, you quickly realized how the matter stood different, struggling to catch up with their strides, helmets swinging with force from their hands as they animatedly discussed.
Surprised to see they entered the hospitality instead of walking towards the media pen as expected, you rushed inside, panting from the effort finally compensated, only to be welcomed by yelling now fully unleashed. «WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY?!» «CHARLES!» Screaming at the top of your lungs as you saw him tug Carlos’ suit, you tore him away, staring at him both furious and terrified, breathing harshly. «Did you sleep with him?!» «It’s none of your busin-» Carlos spitted out, bitter, enraged at the tone he had addressed you with. «Shut the fuck up!» he barked at Carlos, then looking back at you with fiery eyes. «Tell me you didn’t, y/n.» Your fingers weakened their hold onto Carlos’ suit, as you felt the weight of his own hand on your waist lift off from perception, and your mind suddenly went black. You had lost him, yet another time. Like you had ever had him.
You stood still, arms resting lifeless to your sides, eyes still piercing his. What would he do now? What would he say next? How would he treat you from now on, after discovering that you had sticked with him through weekend races around the globe not to enjoy his company, but to sneak with a teammate he didn’t even like? Would he feel betrayed? Would he feel as lonely as you’d always felt? Would he… hate you? His lack of reaction was the painful delay of the stab you expected in the middle of the chest.
A voice inside of you, from a hidden corner of your disrupted soul, screamed in the deafening silence around you, as your father’s face flashed you awake from that trance: that was the weekend. And those, poking your chest, stinging at the bottom of your lungs, those were the feelings. You gagged. It was inevitable; it had come too quick, too sudden to notice. You had seen the warning sign linger in the unthought thoughts, in the untold truths, ready to slip in any moment. And it did.
When Charles stepped closer, your body jerked backwards, frantic, and you would’ve said it had been out of fear; but as you felt Carlos’ arms wrap your waist with might, you realized your knees had given up on your weight, and that you couldn’t, indeed, breathe. Everything rushed around you: without knowing how, you found yourself sitting on a couch, Charles holding both your hands and talking gibberish you couldn’t follow, a cloud of people dressed in red crowding you two, when Carlos suddenly missing in the blurry picture of your vision almost unblocked the choking clench in your throat and made you cough, before turning into a panting mess. «Can you hear me? What’s wrong, can you breathe?» Charles’ words reached you like a metal screeching noise, not really able to grasp their meaning as you kept gasping and panting; you could only focus on his sweaty, warm fingers tightly gripping yours. In distress, you shook them off, hands trembling like a leaf right after.
Charles, at a loss of words, gulped in terror, letting out a frustrated whine: he could do nothing. «Lorenzo, where is he?» «He’s not here.» Charles whispered, a sad and confused shade in his voice. «I need him, I need… I… Lorenzo…» «Hey, I’m here too…» he spoke soft, inching closer, willing to engulf you in a hug if only you’d let him. He had never been there. Charles had always left you on your own. Things had even managed to get worse, after the death of… You wheezed, bringing your hand near your throat. «Fuck, call the doctors from the medical center here at the track! Come on, go! Quick, for fuck’s sake!» Focusing on the way his expression was shaped into panic and madness, the clench in your throat seemed to loosen just enough to make you sigh, as tears pricked your eyes due to fear. «No, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay…» Charles was pained by your sobs, adding on top of your erratic breaths, and he placed a hand on your upper arm, hesitant but incapable of preventing it, because he couldn’t stand not being allowed to physically comfort you while you turned in shambles in front of him.
When you felt a hand gently place on your shoulder, you first had the instinct to flinch, but forced yourself not to as a small plastic-coated bag was handed to you from Carlos. «Breathe into the bag.» In and out, tears still running, you watched it expand and crinkle, full and empty, tuning into the rhythm of your heart slowly decreasing, and never letting slip into unawareness Carlos’ warm touch. You dropped down the bag once your breathing had settled back into a constant flow, despite being still hiccupped by sobs. Crushing between Carlos' arms, you gripped him tight. «Please, take me away from here.» you whispered, voice cracking. Charles saw your back caged and shielded by someone else's arms once again; he heard yet another time those same words, ticking inside of him like a bomb. He could still see you dressed in black, hair once combed and then miserably tousled, your frame smaller, seeking refuge in Lorenzo's embrace. Your dad's funeral. The day he realized he had not only lost Hervé, but he had also lost you. Your name slipped off Charles' lips almost inaudible, like a plea, while he got closer and raised his hand to touch you, to beg both permission and forgiveness. Carlos took a step back, drawing you even nearer to his chest to forbid him. «You don't get to touch her after what you said.» Why couldn't he never... «I'll do what you should've done instead.» Love you?
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Spielberg 2024
Charles P11. Carlos P3.
Another great performance by the Spanish driver, who granted a podium for Ferrari during his last year in the team.
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4 new messages from Lando [picture] are you guys for real FINALLY official? ON THE FREAKING F1 ACCOUNT?! > ♥ yesssss
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Silverstone 2024
Charles P14. Carlos P5.
A solid weekend for Carlos Sainz despite the car being clearly difficult to drive, with great performances in mixed track conditions both in qualifying and in the race.
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f1 ✔ It seems like Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend y/n Leclerc had a little romantic getaway in London right after the race 🤭
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3 new messages from Charles we need to talk please call me back when you see this
«Nice try!» «There was a gust of wind…» «Yeah, sure. Keep dreaming of shots like mine.»
I’ve made so many mistakes
«So… Me +5, you +8, right?» «Yep.»
there are so many things that I want to change
«Onto the next hole, then!»
please don’t ignore me
«Ready, babe?»
I’ve missed you so much
«Y/n?» «Uh?» You finally raised your eyes from the screen, getting momentarily blinded by the sun hitting the golf green grass: protected and unbothered on the passenger seat of the golf cart, Carlos was about to follow Lando to the next hole of the course. «Don’t you answer?» «I… No.» «May I know who is it?» You sighed, simply turning the screen of your phone towards Carlos so that he could read the preview of Charles’ flood of texts. As the cart slowly started moving, you stayed silent. «I know you won’t like what I’m about to say, but I think someone should tell you this.» «What?» «It’s your brother, y/n.» You tsked, annoyed, crossing arms and looking on your right side, onto the endless fields of play. «So? Does this give him permission to treat badly both of us? And if anything, you should be mad at him more than I am.» «But I’d never ask you to hate him for me.» You stared at him, as he kept driving. «I know you love him, and I don’t want to see you sad and upset anymore because of anything that happened between me and him.» «It’s not just about you two…» «I know. But from his texts, it seems like he realized he was wrong and is willing to change.» Approaching the new golf hole, Carlos stopped the cart right behind Lando’s. «In four years, if I learned anything about Charles’ character, that’s his perseverance once he has a goal set.» he paused and then looked at you. «If you ignore him today, he’ll keep texting and calling you tomorrow, and the day after, until you give in.» «I don’t want to give in. He always gets what he wants, and I want him to understand I’m not a trophy he can keep on his shelf just because it’s the only one he lacks.» «I think you should hear his reasons anyway. You can always refuse afterwards, if you feel like he’s being superficial about it.»
>>♥<<
Monaco’s street merged with the gray of the liquid asphalt and the pouring column cascading from the plumbeous clouds. There was nothing more disappointing than to be forbidden the breathtaking scenery of the sea glimmering with sunshine splinters, and be left instead to a gray expanse of cold, humid and dampness.
You shook your umbrella, soaked in rain, squeezing it shut as you anticipated it being totally broken after the violent wind gusts blowing from the sea, and you brushed your lucid boots onto the rug, as you would always do. Welcome Home, it said. As soon as your jingling keys touched the small glass plate awaiting them in the hall, Charles was already springing up in front of you, visibly in distress. «Why did it take you so long?» Still struck by the violence of the storm which had welcomed you outside, and dazed by the hurry and urgence of Charles once you had got inside, you didn’t answer. «Did you get wet? Wait, let me get you new clothes.» You followed his erratic figure flinging in your room, opening the closet and scattering it through, in search of anything you might like to wear and change into. «This, it will make you feel warm.» «Cha’, I’m not cold…» «No, this one! This one is good, for sure.» Piling up clothes on the bed as he frenziedly looked through your entire wardrobe, you stood still waiting for him to stop. «Here, let’s change into these.» he said, handing a shirt and some trousers to you. Who… who was that? What had happened to old Charles? The one you’d always known? «C’mon, I don’t want you to get ill!» «You… you need to exit the room.» «Right!» It had never once showed his concerns for you this openly. You figured he had always been too far away from you and not present enough to make his worry evident; and yet you had never even dared dream about such a nurturing and caring brother. At least, you had never expected him to be, once you had fully realized he would never be that brother you so dearly hoped to have.
You sat on the bed, brushing the texture of the shirt he had chosen for you: a softness, a delicacy new-found in his madman behavior. Where from? Out of fear of losing you? Hypocritic. Or maybe just finally acknowledged his mistakes? Carlos’ words echoed in the silence of your bedroom. Listening to him didn’t cost you anything.
«I’m sorry. From how I treated you and Carlos, to how I never once stepped up to improve our relationship even when it was more in my power than in yours to do so.» You lowered your gaze, knowing full well what Charles was referring to and playing every scene, every talk, every fight in your mind like a rerun. «Me and dad barely included Arthur in my driving experience. We thought that there was no point in including you, who were even younger than him, in something you didn’t seem to have a lot of interest in.» «You both decided that for me.» «I know. I know now.» he nodded. «It was a terrible mistake to exclude you from my passion because it indirectly excluded you from my life.» «You weren’t even here when dad was at the hospital.» «Don't you think I know? Don’t you think I’ve suffered for that?» You, inevitably, cried; and he, inevitably, took you in his arms, hugging as strong and tight as he had ever done, as he had wanted to do the day he had come back for the funeral, the moment he had seen you cling onto Lorenzo’s shirt and be cradled by him. It should’ve been me, I should’ve supported you instead, his embrace now screamed. Charles undeniably loved you from the first time he had seen you: a little princess to guide and take care of, to cuddle to sleep when you were still a newborn, to shield from Arthur’s mischief dictated by jealousy from not being the youngest kid anymore. «I missed you.» The crack in his voice, the trembling of his chest upon yours warned you he was crying as well, inside your arms. You couldn’t help but sob louder, and grip his shirt tighter, burying your face in his neck. And yet, he knew that he needed to let that princess grow into a queen and, instead of shielding her from life, support her along the way. «As to Carlos…» he said. «Cha’, I love him, I can’t help it.» you said as he wiped a tear from your cheek. «Please, don't ask me to choose because I won’t.» «Y/n, I’m no one to say what you can and can’t do.» he dropped the tone of his voice. «And I’m definitely not entitled to say whom you can and can’t love.» You stood in shock, elaborating his words. «So…» «So, if Carlos makes you happy, then I support it. I support… you.»
>>♥<<
«So you're good now?» «Thanks to you, yes.» You laid back onto the swim towel, pressing on the sand of Playa de el Cañuelo, staring straight at Carlos who was laying right next to you. «I love the sun here in Spain, gosh…» «Brings back memories, right?» he smirked. «Yeah...» «Why don’t relive them?» In a glimpse, Carlos had grabbed you and you two rolled on the sand, so that you rested on top of him, giggling through the embrace you were now surrounded by. It was as natural as breathing the way you both leaned in to join lips in a messy kiss, smiling and grazing each other’s hot skin, building up steam in such a short amount of time. Dreamy eyes, Carlos placed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, speaking up again. «I was thinking of buying the villa, so I can stop renting it every month for us to come here.» «Really?» you beamed. «Would you like it?» «I'd love it.» «So then we can expand it and add a second floor, to have space for a playroom for our kids...» «What?» «This will be our holiday villa, once we get married.» Out of excitement, you peppered his face with kisses, secure in the hold of his hands. He then leaned in again, as the tips of your nose brushed on each other’s. «So... Where were we?»
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So... First of all, congratulations for making it through! I hope you liked it! Thanks for any feedback - negative, neutral or positive - you'll leave! Wish you all a good day ♥
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ashthesalamipiece · 19 days ago
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Mha characters as dads 💥🪨⚡️
Genre: fluff
AGED UP AU!
(I didn't write so much bc i didn't have ideas and I was tired XD)
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Denki Kaminari:⚡️
-Actually fainted when you told him the news, you had to stop him from short-circuiting three times.
-Will do his best to make you laugh during your hard times into your pregnancy and will not tolerate to see you sad.
-will talk to your belly whenever he gets the chance, you sometimes wake up to him talking to your stomach
-when you have morning sickness he will sprint out of the bed and into the bathroom to comfort you.
-He loves to make cute little nicknames for you, himself, and the unborn baby, he will call you his sea and calls himself men (yall get it? lmao) and calls the baby the result.
-You both agreed on having a water birth at home bc that was how your mom had you (in this au)
-When yall went to a doctors appointment he was really excited to know the gender, but later yall found out you was having twins. You swear you've never seen him smile so much since you got married.
-The day your water broke he was a pacing akward mess, he checked up on you every 5 second and made sure you were okay.
-You leggit almost put a curse on that poor boy when you were nearing 10 centimeters, even if denki was a hero and he'd fight dangerous villains and that stuff you'd never seen him so scared before (XD)
-When it came to pushing he held your hand the hardest he could, he promised you could squeeze his hand as hard you could. But only in a few minute's he was a whining mess about how you were breaking his bones
-When you two heard the twins cry for the first time he was a laughing mess while you were a crying mess, you got two sons.
-the firstborn son was named hiro and the other one was named mio, denki was the first one to hold them (Bc he had your permission ofc)
-Even tho he was awfully in love with his sons and would offer everything for them, they bit. And not even a little, it was like they were born as a wild animal.
-But even if the babies bit, shat, hit each other, cried at night keeping yall up the whole night and cried nonstop.
-He still loved them.
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Kirishima Ejirou:🪨
-100% cried when you told him the news, he called everyone he knew and told them the amazing news.
-Always has his hand on your belly, even when it was flat.
-He will always lay in bed with you and blabber about everything he wants to happen (for example, having a girl, the baby being healthy, etc)
-When you had the baby it was the happiest day of his life, and as he wished for, he got a baby girl (not that he wouldn't mind a boy)
-you ended up on naming the baby ria.
-Always has his baby girls in his lap, he will carry ria in his arm and have you in his lap while stroking rias small head with tufts of hair.
-His mother's always comes and visits to help you out with ria when kirishima is out working.
-When you leave kirishima alone with ria she does not want to get feed with a bottle or that formula that tastes ass, she would much rather suck on kirishima's finger til you come home (even though kirishima has tried to feed her multiple times she still does it)
-When Ria turns the age where babies walk he can not say no to those adorable red eyes staring at him. He was a rich pro hero, so why not use it?
-He gets emotional when ria turns 8, he thinks about all the times when she was a baby and always looks throught the baby book of her when she was little, atleast two times a day.
-In the end he asks you for another child, since ria often gets "bored" and she "said" that she wanted a sibling (he completely made it up)
-You often wonder where ria gets her pouting from, when you remember that kirishima Ejirou is your husband.
-You still love them tho.
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Bakugo katsuki:💥
(I rushed this, so im sorry if typos!)
-Is completly horrified when you told him you were pregnant with his child, he was afraid that he would be a bad dad and that he would do something wrong. It took you so many hours to reassure him that everything would be fine.
-After he began having more confidence about being a dad he bragged. He bragged about how he was the first in his class to have a child, how lucky he was and that stuff.
-His mom, mitsuki will literally barge into his house just to ignore his yelling and going straight to you to check up on you.
-When you're in your second trimester you have really bad mood swings, you will literally threaten him with a knife from the kitchen and he will just be standing a few feet away from you like🧍‍♂️
-At night when you have cravings he will grumble about how he will not get you ice cream in the middle of the night, when 5 minutes later he will go into the nearest store. (he loves you and you know it🤭)
-At night he WILL have his head on your belly while you're sleeping, listening for the babys heartbeat and movements. (He will always deny it if you catch him)
-One random night your water suddenly broke, you woke up panicked. Beside you was bakugo sleeping, his loud snores very loud (his father roots already showing)
-It. Took. You. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes. To. Wake. That. Bitch. Up.
-You shook his shoulders fast for about 30 minutes before he stirled in his sleep, after not so long he woke up groggily asking what was wrong.
-when you told him his eyes widened and his mouth opened as wide as it could. He was quick out of the bed and grabbing the hospital bag while being careful not to stress you out more than you already were.
-you got in the car and he drove to the hospital, his eyes quickly darting to you a few times. When you arrived he picked you up bridal style and walked right in the doors.
-Nurses gathered around you and walked you to a room where they sat you down and got you comfortable.
•timeskip to when you got the baby bc I'm too lazy to write and + I'm tired•
-when he first saw the baby he couldn't belive his eyes, it looked exactly like him, and brhaved like him too
-The baby locked eyes with her dad, looked him up and down before rolling her eyes and finishing it with a little scowl.
-That was when he knew she was his
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burningcheese-merchant · 3 months ago
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Wake up, BurningCheese/GoldenSpice babes, new poorly drawn blorbos just dropped
They look cooler in my head, I swear.
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the images didn't show up the first time wtf lol
The kids are finally here, yay. I promised I'd show you them, and I finally stopped being an asshole and followed through. Almost got 200 followers and I'm very grateful for it - really, I'm nobody. I'm just some clown who says dumb stuff and makes dumb memes and writes cringey stories, and yet I convinced almost 200 people to tune in. Thank you all so much, users on here and anons in my inbox alike. As a token of appreciation, you can all endure my rambling about my OCs and witness a person in their early 20s draw like a 12 year old.
The boy is Pepper Jack (or Pepper Jack Cookie). He's the firstborn and older than his sister by a few years. He takes after his mother in a lot of ways, primarily in her appearance (save for nabbing his father's red eyes). He's incredibly bright (and a smartass lol), preferring to think his way out of conflict rather than fight his way out... not that he's above violence at all, if that glaive doesn't give it away lol. He harbors a deep sense of love and loyalty towards his family and his peoples, and carries the weight of his responsibilities and heritage with as much confidence and poise as he can muster. (There are/will be times where he stumbles, of course. He's not perfect. He struggles a lot more than he lets on, really. But he tries his best, for everyone's sake.)
The girl is Matar Paneer (or Matar Paneer Cookie). Again, she's the younger one by a few years. She was all but made in her father's image, save for inheriting her mother's eyes. She's a little firecracker: lively and fun-loving and stubborn as a mule. She doesn't ask "can I have/do this thing", she tells you "I'm going to have/do this thing". Golden is proud as anything to see her daughter be so greedy... until that greed comes into conflict with her and Spice's authority lol. But she's a good kid, despite being such a handful. She has an enormous heart and is not afraid to stand up for others/what's right, and she loves her parents and brother more than anything in the world. She might doubt her own capabilities, she might secretly fear that she's not strong enough to do what she needs to... but she keeps pushing anyway, because she'd honestly choose death over quitting.
Your eyes are not deceiving you, Pepper Jack's wings are blue lol. There's an actual reason for that. And that USO (Unidentified Sitting Object) in Matar Paneer's hair is a lotus (the cheese one in the GCK decor set lol). There's a reason for that, too. I thought it would be cool to give Jack a glaive and swap out the normal blade for that of a khopesh sword (glaives are not Egyptian, they only saw use in Asia and Europe, but I just HAD to give him a glaive), to add that Egyptian touch. Paneer's supposed to be wearing a pattu pavadai, it's a traditional Indian dress for young girls. It's a blouse plus a skirt. She's holding katar, Indian knives (Cilantro Cobra has them, too). And her hair's supposed to be in a low ponytail.
Merchant thinks that if they explain what their terrible drawings are supposed to convey, people will understand their intended vision and the pain will stop
I sat down and did research into both Egyptian and Hindu mythology for the sake of drawing inspiration for them both. I'll explain in detail in another post, but basically: both of them take after one Egyptian god and one Hindu god each. Golden takes after Ra and Spice takes after Shiva, so I figured I'd follow along that line.
Please flood my inbox with questions about them now. I've really been dying to talk about them for ages now. I've drafted extensive character sheets for them both, I even made up in-game descriptions for them lol. They're my little fankid blorbos and I love them :') I hope you all come to love them, too
(Also, I'm sorry they're on lined paper. I'm visiting family rn and that's the only paper my grandmother has in her house. I'd have to drive to a stationery to get printer paper and I'd really rather not drive in this particular country lol (shit roads, even shittier drivers). I'll doodle them on printer paper whenever somebody remembers to bring me some)
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