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coco-loco-nut · 8 hours ago

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Chasing Desire

pairing: charles x reader

summary: you never meant to fall in love, but you didn’t plan on being in a love triangle with your best friend and his older brother either

a/n: i’ve been writing a lot of charles recently, sorry, but he’s been a part of my rare inspiration lately... also apologies for the novel

masterlist requests open

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“Are you sure you’re the professional driver?” you ask, pulling off your helmet. The smell of gasoline a familiar comfort on the race track.

“I let you win,” Arthur lies.

“And you, Charles?” you look to your best friend’s brother, who is either staring at you or something behind you.

“Um, same thing. You know, being an F1 driver and all,” Charles stutters, snapping out of wherever his mind is.

“Sure, you just can’t admit you lost to a retired driver,” you laugh, letting the race suit drop to your hips.

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Arthur slings an arm around your shoulder and you feel a sort of butterflies in your chest, the ones that you push away every time.

There is no way you can be crushing on Arthur, your best friend since he returned to karting. You’ve been almost inseparable ever since. You’ve both seen each through hardships. He was there when Prema dropped you when you ran out of funding in F3 last season and no driver academy wanted you. You were there when he was struggling in F2.

“Get away, Thur, you reek,” you gag for added effect.

“I want ice cream. Let’s go get some,” Charles interrupts, causing you to almost jump away.

You clear your throat, looking back at the track. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you agree, almost wanting to disappear back into the locker room.

In the locker room you stare at yourself in the mirror.

“Quit it, that’s Arthur, your best friend,” you tell yourself. Ollie always joked that you followed Arthur like a lost puppy, but you never believed him. Well, until now.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks. opening the door to his car for you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” your brows furrow as you take a seat on the cool Italian leather.

“You just seem off,” Charles shrugs, brushing it off when you don’t reply. He looks up into the rearview mirror, silently asking Arthur if he has an idea. A simple shrug from Arthur confirms that he doesn’t know either. Maybe you have an exam coming up? They just don’t know. “So, how’s school?” Charles tries again, getting success when you look up from your phone.

“It’s fine. I’m on track to graduate early, but the job search isn’t great,” you frown, a little hesitant to talk about the last part.

“How? You were an incredible driver, surely that looks good on your resume?” Arthur asks, jumping in before Charles can offer you a job.

“Well, you’d be surprised to know that driving apparently does not really provide direct experience in data science,” you huff, turning your phone off as you cross your arms. It’s hard enough since you started university late.

“Oh! Ferrari is-“

“No,” you and Arthur reply at the same time. The butterflies start to return as you glance out the window.

“It’s called using your resources and network, it’s not like I’m directly getting you a job,” Charles tries to reason.

“As soon as I write your name, they will hire me. I want to be hired on my own merit,”

“But,”

“No buts,” you don’t dare to speak out loud what you want to add. It would crush Charles.

He tried so hard when Arthur revealed you didn’t have funding to get a team to pick you up. He talked to other drives, team principals, engineers, anyone. He had no luck, and when you found out it crushed you. Not only were you not good enough, any offer you would even receive would be because of Charles. From that moment you vowed that every single accomplishment going forward would be of your own merit.

“Ooo, we are here,” Charles cuts the tension, putting the car in park. You’ve never met anyone who loves ice cream more, even when it’s a bit chilly.

“Are you excited to go to Greece?” Arthur asks and you nod, practically feeling the sun on your skin.

“I cannot wait for finals to end and fly out,”

“Where exactly are you going?”

“Mykonos,”

“I’m so jealous,” Arthur groans, thinking about how much nicer it would be.

“I bet, certainly nicer than racing,” you chuckle.

“What is?” Charles turns towards you in the line.

“Greece,” Arthur answers for you. You simply nod, thinking about the white sand beaches.

“Oh, when are you going?” Charles asks. You are a bit thrown off at his prying today, but shrug it off as him not having seen you in a while.

“Before Austria. I’ll fly from Mykonos to Spielberg,” you answer before placing your order.

Charles watches as you chat with Arthur. The bright lights illuminate your smile, a crinkle in the corners of you eyes, and how you look like Arthur holds the world in his hands. You lean into Arthur as he tells you something that must be funny, because your laugh floats through the air. It’s one of those moments where Pascale or Lorenzo would make a comment. One that Charles wishes deep down was about him and how the two of you belong together.

Arthur attends your graduation, sending plenty of pictures to the family group chat and even making a sweet post on Instagram about it. And then you are in Greece, a couple of your girlfriends accompanying you for the first week.

“Hey, how’s day three going?” Arthur asks as soon as you pick up.

“Good, I’m exploring the town right now. What’s up?” you ask. Arthur called earlier in the day then planned, worrying you a little.

“I couldn’t wait to tell you. I got a girlfriend,” Arthur says excitedly. You feel your heart drop to your stomach. “Y/n?” Arthur’s voice snaps you out of your trance.

“Sorry, I was looking at a pastry. That’s great news, I’m so happy for you,” you say, even though you don’t feel like it. Your mind drifts as Arthur tells you about her and something in you shatters a little.

“I’m so sorry,” you pull your phone away from your ear as you bump into someone. “I gotta go, Thur. Call you later,” you quickly hang up, staring into a beautiful pair of brown eyes.

“I’m not,” the man smiles back as you feel your cheeks flush. He stands out against the white buildings that surround you.

“You aren’t?” you brush a stray hair back behind your ear.

“No, not if I get to meet a beautiful woman such as yourself,” he replies smoothly. Your heart doesn’t know what to feel, it went from zero to one hundred very quick.

“I’m Y/n, nice to meet you,” you extend your hand. The man takes it and kisses the back.

“Achileas, but my friends call me Achi. You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?” he asks.

“Not unless you live in Monaco,” you shake your head, suddenly aware that you are standing in the middle of the street. Achileas notices as well and subtly ushers you towards a cafe.

“Hm, you are a race car driver, no?”

“I was, not anymore. How did you know?” you are shocked, it is rare someone would recognize you.

“Of course I remember the pretty girl who won the sprint race in Monaco. The fans were so excited, it was the first time I paid attention to a non F1 race,” he says, making you feel important. Monaco, your final win in F3, and a home win nonetheless.

“I don’t know what to say, I’m honestly so flattered,” you tilt your head down, trying to hide the blush.

“Can I ask why you don’t race anymore?” he asks after both of you order at a table.

“I, um, ran out of funding. Couldn’t put myself through university and race at the same time. No team wanted to sign me to their driver academy and that was that,” you tell him. It still stings to admit, but you are proud of how far you got.

“I’m sorry. You seemed like a great driver,” Achileas says, putting his hand over yours.

“I still watch my friends race, it’s enough for me. What do you do?”

“I act in the United States,” he smiles, gladly letting you turn the attention to him.

“That’s so cool, what brings you here then?” you follow, curious about the Greek man in front of you.

“Ah, well there’s no point in hiding it. I’m a Prince of Greece. Purely symbolic, my family holds no power, just a title,” he reveals to you, catching you off guard. You expected something simple, like a vacation, not being royal.

“Oh, wow. And you made being a failed driver sound cool,” you quickly recover from your shock. You try to act like you do around Charles, like there is nothing that makes them different from you.

“Hey, it is cool. You probably know a lot of great drivers, including yourself,”

“I mean, yeah. I’m best friends with Arthur Leclerc and I do know Charles pretty well. But that’s no where near the same level as being an actual prince.”

“Let’s agree that they are both equally cool. Can’t be fighting on our first date, no?” His suave smile disarms you, sending your head spinning.

“No,” you agree.

One date slowly turns into dinner the next evening, and breakfast the morning after, to a spending the whole day together.

Charles watches your socials just for a glimpse of you. You post stories of your outings, or you laying on the beach, but Charles assumes that your friends are taking the photos, until the second week.

Arthur’s phone rings shortly after hanging up with you. He begrudgingly answers, not in the mood to speak anymore. “What’s up, Charles?”

“Did you see Y/n’s Instagram post?” Charles asks, trying to sound calm, but it just comes out rushed.

“Yeah, what about it? She’s having a great time,” Arthur sighs. He knows how Charles looks at you protectively, but didn’t realize it was anything other than in a little sister way.

“She’s cuddled up to some guy on the beach. And that guy is a prince. She’s with a prince, Arthur. An actual prince, not in a figurative way like me!”

“Yeah, that’s her boyfriend. They met last week,”

“How do you even compete with that?” Charles exasperates.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Arthur asks, a foreign irritated feeling lacing his voice.

“I lied,” Charles frowns, plotting his next move.

“Just… don’t fuck it up for her. She seems really happy,” Arthur sighs before hanging up.

The sand is soft underneath you as you lay on top of your beach towel. Achi lays beside you, watching you flip the pages of your book. He has a small smile on his face, amused at your facial expressions and how you seem to read faster. He leans in, brushing away a stray hair that you keep trying to blow away, only to startle you out of your trance.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” his voice is soft, watching you mark the page you are on.

“No, it’s okay. I want to spend time with you,” you smile, turning your attention to him. You leave far too soon for your liking, you’d happily stay here.

“Well, I would hope so,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you as you shift close to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, content in the moment with you.

“I don’t want to leave,”

“Then stay the summer here with me. Or until you decide what you are doing next,”

“I have to go to Austria, but I could be convinced to return,” a playful smile makes its way to your face as Achileas flips you underneath him, arms on both sides of you.

“Is this convincing enough?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you giggle, tilting your chin up as he leans down to kiss you. It starts slow, teasing yet sincere, turning into a passion that urges you to stay. “Okay,” you whisper as your lips part. You watch his eyes light up, excited that you agreed to stay.

“I can’t wait,” he grins, moving from on top of you.

“I will miss you while I’m away,” you frown slightly. You’ve fallen into a comfort that you never expected. For the first time ever, you haven’t found yourself thinking about Arthur or the crush that has been haunting you.

“I think you will survive, but I could always join you,” you perk up a little. Why hadn’t you thought of that?

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I can watch with a professional, and I’m sure I could acquire a pass,” Achileas smiles, mentally planning it all.

“I’d love for you to join me,” you don’t even hesitate.

“Why don’t we head out?” he suggests, standing up and offering you a hand. You take it and quickly pack up. You walk hand in hand through the town, before a sound makes you pause.

“Did you hear that?” you ask, turning towards a small alley.

“It sounded like a meow,” Achi says, letting you search. You find a vibrant orange kitten in distress.

“You poor baby,” your voice is soft as the kitten approaches you. You look up at Achi, eyes asking what to do.

“The kitten seems to need help and it’s all alone. I don’t see an issue with helping it,” he shrugs. You carefully pick the kitten up and hold it to your chest.

“Do you think I could keep it?”

“We can do some research. Let’s get some food for it,”

“It’s a boy,” you smile as you quickly check the kitten’s gender. “I’m going to name you Leo,” Achi is amused and in awe at how tenderly you are caring for the kitten. It’s the greenest possible flag.

You wait outside the store as Achi buys some food for the kitten. As you wait, you send a picture to the group chat you have with Arthur and Charles, telling them that you are trying to adopt the kitten.

The last couple days of your trip is spent planning arraignments for your return and for Achileas to attend the race with you. Leo is staying at the vet, receiving treatment then getting neutered so you can officially adopt him.

“Arthur!” you wave, practically dragging your boyfriend through the paddock in search of the Leclercs. You find them talking to Pierre near the Alpine garage.

“Y/n! You look great, the sun treated you well,” Arthur hugs you tight.

“The sun isn’t the only thing that treated me well. This is Achileas, my boyfriend. Achileas, this is my best friend, Arthur,” you introduce them.

“You really need to cool it on the death glare,” Pierre tells Charles who is looking between you and the tall Greek man behind you. The sun-kissed glow of your skin makes Charles fall harder, and your closeness to Achileas makes him want to puke.

“What death glare? I’m not jealous,” Charles says defensively.

“You are literally in love with your brothers best friend. You hate her boyfriend without ever having met him. You adopted a dog two days ago and named it after her kitten that she rescued the day before. But you aren’t jealous?” Pierre raises an eyebrow.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Charles trails off, looking at the way you lean into Achileas’ touch, his arm securely around your waist as if it was meant to be there.

“It’s funny, she always followed Arthur around like a lost puppy. I always assumed they would get together once they figured out they liked eachother, but now they are dating different people,” Pierre continues, not being a help to Charles’ mental health.

“That’s not true, he doesn’t like her like that,”

“That you know of. Just like how he didn’t know you like his best friend until recently,” Pierre continues.

“Charles, come say hi to your guest,” Arthur calls his brother over.

“I missed you,” Charles wraps his arms around you, holding the hug for a second longer than normal. You are thrown off by it all. Charles has never said something like that before, and what gives him the right to hug you that long.

“Yeah,” you pat his back awkwardly as he lets go. “Meet my boyfriend, Achileas,” you step back so they can shake hands.

“Charles Leclerc, I race for Ferrari,” Charles puffs his chest slightly, trying to intimidate but he just comes off like an asshole. Pierre and Arthur do their best to avoid rolling their eyes.

“I’m going to go say hi to Pierre,” you are clearly thrown off a little by Charles, but allow them to interrogate your boyfriend while you speak to the Frenchman.

“Alright, what’s going on?”

“No idea. Probably just trying to get a read on your Greek warrior,” Pierre shrugs, keeping Charles secrets even if he would normally gossip with you.

“He is isn’t he?” you look dreamily at your boyfriend, who seems to need saving.

“Sure. I’ll see you later,” Pierre leaves, having a job to do.

“Should I be worried?” Achileas asks as soon as the two of you are out of earshot, well you think you are.

“About who?”

“Charles,”

“Not at all, I don’t get what girls see in him, but maybe that’s from growing up with him.” You shrug. Your mind briefly drifts to how weird Charles was acting. Does he not want to be your friend anymore? Why was he so standoffish to Achileas. Meanwhile, Charles feels a stab in his heart at your words. Maybe he never did stand a chance.

“Sorry to cut in, but I need to do my best friend duties. You can meet us back at Ferrari,” Arthur says, pulling your boyfriend away from you. You are left with Charles and Pierre, who just stare back at you.

“Well, I have a team meeting and this feels awkward, so I’m gonna go,” Pierre disappears into the garage. You stand in the awkward silence for a minute before turning to walk back to Ferrari hospitality.

“Y/n, wait,” you feel a gentle tug as your arm as Charles catches up with you. “Is there something wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed as you barely meet his eyes.

“I get this feeling that you don’t like my boyfriend. Why?” you ask, watching Charles fumble for his words. “If you can’t be happy for me like Arthur is, and like I am for Arthur, I don’t know if we can be friends.”

“No, no, I am happy for you. I just didn’t expect to see him here,” Charles lies, not wanting to ruin anything. He feels like he’s barely hanging on to your relationship.

“Well you certainly aren’t acting like it,” you frown. Charles reaches out, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You jerk, quickly stepping out of the small embrace. “What are you doing?”

“I- well, I, um,“ Charles stutters, confused at your coldness. “I was going to give you a hug and apologize,” he watches your eyes narrow before there is a shift of resolve.

“Just, don’t be weird,” you shake your head. The walk back is silent. Charles looks at you oddly, a mix of concern and confusion.

He keeps a bit of distance the rest of the weekend, watching you explain different aspects of racing. Arthur expressed his approval, making things somehow worse for Charles.

“Cha,” you call him over to you on his way to the garage before the race.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted to say good luck. I hope you win,” your smile brings a sense of normalcy, like the two of you haven’t spend the weekend carefully avoiding each other. The concern on Charles’ face melts into something softer.

“Thank you, ma chérie,” he opens his arms slightly, subtly inviting you to hug him. You lean in, wrapping your arms around him. He notes how perfectly you fit in his arms. Charles resists the urge to happily sigh, relieved that the standoff is over.

It’s just what he needs to win the race, but before he can invite you to the after party, you are gone. Back to Greece with your lover, the Prince who stole you away before Charles had the nerve to say something.

Charles doesn’t see you again until just before Monza. He knocks on your and Arthur’s apartment door, delivering some frozen meals from Pasquale for Arthur. You open the door, hair slightly disheveled, messy mascara, tanned skin from the Greek sun, and a pullover that barely covers your shorts. You’ve never looked so perfect.

Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the tears start flowing. He steps inside behind you, following you to the living room after making a quick detour to shove the food in your freezer. You haven’t been back for long based on the lack of food in the fridge and the lack of your decoration.

Charles sits beside you on the couch, conscious of his actions. Your cat, Leo, sits on the other side of you. He looks around the living room, a framed photo of you and Arthur on a podium hanging beside other individual pictures or pictures of the two of you. Some of your trophies are mixed with Arthur’s, showcasing your achievements.

“Cherie, what happened?” Charles gentle voice cuts through the silence.

“He left. He’s going back to America,” you hold back sobs, the more you speak it, the more real it becomes. You had numbly backed your bags and flew back to Monaco, ignoring the apologies from the man who broke your heart. “I should’ve known he’d drop me as soon as the summer ended,” you tilt your head back in an effort to stop your tears. You never want to cry over a man again.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles whispers, unsure of what to say. You feel anger bubbling up, slowly replacing your sadness.

“God, I paused my whole life for him. I should be starting a job right now, learning how to adult. Instead I wasted my whole summer on white sand beaches and false promises,” your words are venomous, rather than sorrowful. It scares Charles a little bit, he’s seen you angry before, but not like this. Your eyes meet his, betraying your words. He sees the deep hurt and sorrow that they hold and wants nothing more to heal it.

“How long have you been home?” Charles asks, not noticing you subconsciously shifting closer.

“A few days,” your tone shifts, as you take a shaky breath in an attempt to level yourself.

“Y/n, I’m home, dinner is in the kitchen if you want anything,” Arthur calls out as he enters the apartment. He stops abruptly when he notices you on the couch. “You’re alive, and Charles is here.”

“I am here, Maman sent me with meals for you,” Charles says, taking the attention off of you.

“Are you okay? I haven’t seen you leave your room since you got home?” Arthur stares at you, analyzing any move you make.

“I’m okay,” your voice is hoarser than you intended, a small crack cuts through your words.

“I gotta shower, but we are talking later,” Arthur nods, disappearing into his room.

“You haven’t left your room?” Charles turns back to you.

“I think you know that answer,” you bring your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.

“If I offered to help, would you take it?” Charles’ mouth is moving faster than his brain as he thinks of ways to help you.

“Maybe,”

“I need some help with the data. There’s a chance for the team to win the constructors championship and for me to take second in the drivers is everything works out right,” Charles trails off a little, gauging your reaction.

“I don’t want a job because you feel sorry for me,” your voice is firm causing Charles to panic a little.

“It isn’t, I promise. Why don’t you come to Monza and do a test run? See if you like it and if you do I will hire you,” Charles offers, watching the wheels turn in your brain. “I know you feel like you wasted your summer, so I’ll give you a good bonus if I win one race,” his words seal the deal for you. It goes against everything you have said before regarding jobs, but you can’t lie and say that the job won’t be beneficial.

“One test run, then I will give you my answer,” you confirm, watching Charles light up a little.

“Great, I’ll talk to Ferrari and work everything out. We leave for Monza tomorrow.”

Charles picks you and Arthur up early the next morning, bringing with him a Ferrari team polo and folder.

“All the essential data for you to get familiar with, according to the team at least. We will get your Paddock Pass in Monza,” Charles explains. You get to work in the car, looking over the data and using your computer to analyze it further.

“This is Emilia, she will be showing you around and telling you about the data team while I do media,” Charles hands you off to the girl who isn’t much older than you.

“You are a very strong racer,” she says at the end of your tour and training, catching you off guard. “Of course I looked you up when Charles insisted that he has his own data analyst, Ferrari kept tabs on you,” her comment is enough to make you stop.

“They did?”

“Yes, your data is impressive. I can show you the file,” she offers. All it takes is a head nod and you are being shown a file you never thought existed. You read the comments, doing your best to keep a neutral face in the dim room. Fast driver, high ceiling, not enough sponsors. The three phrases that sustained and killed your career accompany the numbers. It almost hurts knowing that teams did see your potential, but didn’t choose you because of money.

“Wow,” you whisper, scanning the page over and over again. You had looked at your racing data for various school projects, but it is different with the team commentary.

“Time for a track walk,” Charles pops his head in, breaking you out of your trance. You whisper a quick thanks before running out after Charles.

You stay busy all weekend, working out different strategies and areas for Charles to improve. It does pay off as you watch Charles bring home the win. Arthur insists you join at the parc ferme to celebrate. Charles hugs Arthur first before turning to you.

“I think this is a strong start to your career,” he quickly hugs you before moving down the line. You can see your new resume line now: assisted Formula One driver in winning during first weekend on team. So you do take the job, you would be crazy not to.

Ferrari hires you through the end of the season. Charles is thrilled. He likes the idea of being your white knight, mending your broken heart one race at a time. He watches you open up more and your relationship strengthens.

You do your best Elvis impression as you enter the paddock on race day with Charles. “Viva Las Vegas,” you sing with an exaggerated vibrato. Charles tries to contain his laughter as Max approaches.

“They had no need to hire Elvis impersonators this year, Ferrari has one on staff already,” he teases. You bonded over your cats, and cat Leo and dog Leo have had play dates with Jimmy and Sassy.

“Shut up,” you laugh. This is the version of you the Charles has been waiting to see again. “Oh shit,” your demeanor changes as you try to hide behind Max and Charles. Charles follows your line of sight to the man talking to someone across the paddock. Max looks confused, but notes how Charles wraps an arm protectively around you.

“I can get someone to kick him out,”

“That’s a bit extreme,”

“I have no idea who you are talking about, but I’ll do it,” Max offers, earning a slight smile from you before it deepens to a frown again.

“Getting broken up with is hardly a reason to kick him out unless he is actually bothering me,” you shrink slightly into Charles, who quickens his pace a little.

“That’s Leo’s dad? Let me at him,” Max is jumping at the chance to punch someone, a lot of pent up energy from conflicts this season. Max may be a sweetheart most of the time when he isn’t racing, but he was raised by Jos.

“Can we just go to hospitality? There’s nothing that an espresso and showing security his picture can’t fix,” you suggest. Max pouts, knowing you are right. Charles gives Max a look, one that tells Max to shut up before he hurts the situation.

“Well, I gotta go. Future World Champion stuff,” Max says, walking away. He does end up confronting Achileas, but he doesn’t say anything out it, and Achileas is too scared to reveal what was said.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks as you sip your espresso.

“Surprisingly, yes. I freaked out a bit at first, but he’s in my space. He’s the one who should be insecure,” you state, making Charles proud at how far you’ve come in two months.

“I’m proud of you. I know that whatever you do after the season you are going to excel,” the words are reassuring and you feel a warmth in your heart. The same kind that you used to feel for Arthur. It’s like you are seeing Charles in a different light than you had before. Charles silently watches you stare at him, stuck in your own head, before you look away at whatever is on the TV behind him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, thank you for bringing me on,” you thank him. The mood is heavy, keeping both of you silent, not wanting to break the odd silence. “I’m going to grab some food, I’ll need it if we go to Max’s after party,” you abruptly say, standing up and leaving. Your phone and coffee remain on the table, so Charles doesn’t bother getting up. You return with two plates, setting one down in front of him. “I got your meal, you need to eat now so you have energy for the race. The window is closing,” you motion to the food with your fork.

“Thanks. You’ve been a great support too, by the way. I don’t think I would’ve done as well without you,” Charles smiles over his glass of water.

After the meal you disappear to find Emilia and work on data. You don’t see each other until your quick meeting on your findings and final race suggestions.

“Have you thought about joining the team full time?” Emilia asks as the race starts. There is a flicker of hope in your chest. Maybe Charles was right, the job can further your career. “There’s an opening working with the driver academy team. I’ll put in a recommendation for you if you want it,” she explains.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you are a bit speechless, excited about the opportunity.

“Great, I’ll send you the application information,” she says before turning back to her work. You refocus on the live data, making notes of where Charles can improve to send to his race engineer.

Charles barely misses the podium so you go back to the team hotel with Emilia, waiting on the text from Charles saying that he’s leaving for the club. Max already sent you the invite, but you don’t want to show up alone. You do end up showing up alone though, having made it to the club before Charles did. You beeline to the bar, needing to take a shot before you even touch the dance floor.

“A shot without me? Come on we are doing another round,” Max approaches you, scaring you a bit as you set down the empty shot glass. Two shots are quickly placed in front of you.

“To the four time champion of the world,” you toast.

“To being cat parents,” he toasts back before you quickly down the shot.

“It’s rude to exclude friends from the round,” Charles cuts in. His slightly unbuttoned top shows a daring amount of skin and for once his pants have a normal fit. You head spins and you aren’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or Charles. You quickly look away and back at the bartender who was beaconed by Max.

“Three more,” you yell over the music.

“I don’t have a toast for this,” Max says as he picks the shot up, both of you looking to Charles.

“If the ocean was beer and I was a duck, I’d swim to the bottom and drink my way up. But the ocean isn’t beer and I’m not a duck, so let’s take these shots and get fucked up,” Charles says proudly. You take the shot before giggling at the silliness of the toast.

“Where did you learn that?” you ask, feeling the alcohol punch you.

“Don’t worry about it,” Charles smiles and you head spins again. You nod and wander to the dance floor, needing to separate yourself from him for a moment.

“Is she okay?” Max asks, watching you get lost in deep thought.

“I’m not sure. I think she’s finally had a chance to heal from the summer,” Charles pauses, unsure of how much to say. “She’s had a crush on Arthur for years, then he started dating his girlfriend, and she met her ex soon after. She’s finally returned to a healed state and now something is off again,” Charles tells Max a bit of what he’s observed from you. Max looks at how Charles is watching you, a mix of concern and admiration.

“She deserves to let loose,” Max says before going to meet other guests. Charles orders two more drinks, taking one to you.

“For me?” you gasp, eagerly taking a cup from his hands.

“Of course,” Charles notices how your navy dress clings to your body, dangerously revealing.

“Let’s dance,” your words slur as you grab onto Charles’ hand.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Charles starts, feeling like he should draw a boundary before things get messy.

“Please, Charlie,” you pout, it’s enough for Charles to give in. Your dancing remains relatively PG, that is until Carlos delivers two more drinks. Turns out that what Charles assumed was you texting Arthur, was you asking Carlos to be your delivery man. Halfway through your drink, you body drifts closer to Charles. There is a look in your eyes, one that used to be reserved for Arthur, one that was never given to Achileas.

“Y/n,” he says softly, trying to see if this is really what you want to be doing. If you told the Charles from a year ago that this was happening, he wouldn’t believe you. You brush against him, body swaying to the beat. Charles wraps an arm around you, done fighting it.

Lost in an alcohol haze, time seems nonexistent as the lights flash around you. Your drinks are long finished, taken away by a bouncer a few songs ago. There’s something natural about it, but it makes you feel guilty. You always assumed you and Arthur were meant to be, you never even thought of Charles in anyway but Arthur’s older brother. When did it change?

You look up to find Charles looking back at you. Your lips are slightly parted as your mind scrambles to find the words, the music spinning you further. Charles takes a risk, pulling you slightly closer. Your head tilts up slightly and he takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss you. Your body seems to freeze and melt at the same time, giving in to what’s happening. It’s everything Charles has waited for and more. The years of waiting were worth every moment.

“Charles,” your voice sounds like a whisper as your lips part, a desperation in his name.

“Just say no and I won’t kiss you again,” his voice is low in your ear, but you can’t find it in you to say no. Your hands travel up to his neck, pulling him back to you. Something clicks, everything in the past few months has worked towards this moment. He was there for you at your lowest, and Charles helped you be yourself again.

“I’m going to get us another round,” Charles says against your lips, leaving you in a daze.

“Y/n,” a voice says from behind you, catching your attention.

“Back already, Cha- what are you doing here?” your mood is immediately soured.

“Celebrating, just like you. I was invited,” the greek man hasn’t changed since he made you leave.

“Were you? How do you know Max?” you are skeptical, rightfully so. His only connection to Formula One was you.

“My friend works with the team. I thought I wasn’t supposed to worry about him,” Achileas nods his head back to the bar, causing your cheeks to flush at the thought of the older Monegasque.

“I thought you actually liked me. It seems we were both wrong,” you shake your head slightly, clearing Charles from your mind. Any drunkenness feels like it’s been washed away with a sharp splash of cold water.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You know you miss me,” he steps closer, trapping you in the crowd of strangers. Your eyes dart around the dance floor, looking for Carlos or Max, anyone who you know really.

“I don’t. You never even asked about our cat. Why would you care about me?” your eyes narrow, trying to mask your nerves with a false bravado.

“I know you and your body so well. Come back with me to my hotel and let me remind you,” he steps closer, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. You freeze, not wanting to cause a scene but needing to escape.

“That fucker, I told him to stay away from her,” Max growls, noticing before Charles does since he is chatting with the bartender.

“Who?”

“Y/n’s ex, that greek guy,” Max makes a move to confront him, but Charles is already pushing towards you. Max hands back, waiting for the drinks. Who would he be to let alcohol go to waster if Charles has it handled.

“Back away from her before I make you,” Charles inserts himself between the two of you, shielding you behind him.

“What is your problem? You just had to get with her as soon as we took a break?” Achileas’ words only make you and Charles more mad.

“I respected your relationship the whole time, and when you broke her heart I helped her fix it. You have no right to be here and to make Y/n uncomfortable,” Charles says, knowing that you are one comment away from snapping.

“So you jumped on the opportunity to get with her? Just so you know, she really likes it when you-“

“I am an adult and can make my own choices. Charles has been a good friend for years and showed me his true colors since I returned to Monaco. You showed me your true colors when you dropped me like I was nothing and now you think you can waltz back in,” you step around Charles, who gently pulls you back into his chest before you get physical. Max approaches, accompanied by a bouncer.

“I warned you to stay away. It’s been fun watching you absolutely fail, but I think it’s time you leave. I don’t even know you,” Max lets the bouncer grab Achileas, the three of you watch as he is thrown out onto the street. “Good riddance,” Max huffs, handing you the second drink. It’s a miracle that no one else around you was paying attention.

“Thank you,” you look at max who looks both concerned and angry.

“What an asshole,” Charles shakes his head, free arm lightly holding you against him.

“I thought princes were supposed to be white knights,” Max says amused at his own thought.

“He’s not a real prince anyway,” your laugh is bitter, annoyed that you wasted your time on a pretty smile who wanted free devotion without returning it.

“I am though,” Charles smiles proudly.

“Sure you are. Prince of Monaco and King of Monza,” Max does his best interpretation of F1 commentary and their nicknames for the Monegasque. You feel the exhaustion of the night and its excitement hit you like a ton of bricks.

“I think I’m going to head out, the Ferrari flight leaves early tomorrow and I don’t think I’m in much of a celebration mood anymore. Congrats again, Max,” you step out of Charles’ embrace to give a quick hug to the Dutchman.

“I’ll go with you, just in case he’s waiting,” Charles says quickly, knowing he will just be worried if he lets you go alone. Arthur would kill him too. Arthur. That’s a discussion the two of you need to have.

“Thank you for being here. There is a seat on my jet for you if you oversleep or don’t sleep at all,” Max winks, leaving you and Charles.

“Want to order room service? I think we have some things to talk about,” Charles asks, guiding you towards his hotel.

“I could eat,” you nod.

As soon as you sit on his bed, another wave of exhaustion hits you. Charles digs through his suitcase, searching for something.

“Here, I doubt you want to stay in that dress,” Charles tries not to think about taking the dress off of you as he hands you a shirt and basketball shorts.

“Thanks,” you disappear into the bathroom to change and remove the bit of makeup you had time to do.

“What do you want to order?”

“We need to walk about what this is,” you answer, food pushed to the back of your mind as you sit on the bed. Charles sets the menu down, leaning against the headboard on top of the crisp white sheets. The city is visible outside the windows, but the curtains are drawn to block out the lights.

“I don’t want to force you into anything. I’ve liked you for a long time and that won’t change,” Charles states plainly, laying it out there.

“I want to take it slow. The last time I jumped into something it didn’t end well. As evidenced by tonight,” you pause, mulling over your next words. “What do we tell Arthur?” you frown, thinking of your best friend as Charles pulls you close.

“The truth. Something sparked tonight and we are taking it slow. If we hide it he may never forgive us.”

“You know, I always thought I would end up with Arthur,” you chuckle.

“Everyone did. I am glad that has changed now, I hated the thought of you two together and the way you used to look at him. I always wanted you to look at me that way, and you did tonight,” Charles says, his head dipping lower as he speaks, wanting to capture your lips in a kiss.

When he pulls away to turn off the bedside lamp, you get cozy in bed, quickly falling asleep. Charles doesn’t dare disturb you, instead he plugs your phone into a spare charger and texts Emilia to coordinate picking up your luggage in the morning before going to sleep as well.

You wake up to the early morning sun streaming through the window, panic coursing through you as you realize it isn’t your hotel room. You barely register that Charles is beside you as you look around for your phone. You do a double take once it registers in your mind, bits and pieces of the night before coming back to you.

“Morning,” Charles groans slightly, reaching out to pull you in for a cuddle.

“I missed the flight, how am I going to get my things,” you panic, not understanding how Charles is being so calm about it.

“I picked it up this morning, you are flying with Max and I to Qatar,” Charles murmurs sleepily into your shoulder, messy brown hair falling onto your skin.

“I’m so confused,” you settle a bit, letting yourself relax into the bed and Charles’ arms again. “Oh my god, we didn’t?”

“No, you were asleep quickly and I wouldn’t do that when drunk,” Charles says softly, just wanting to go back to sleep. He pulls you closer, like he’s been waiting his whole life to wake up next to you, savoring the moment.

“Thanks,” you whisper, exhaustion hitting you again.

Charles doesn’t reply, gently nuzzling against your neck as his breathing evens out. You take it as a sign and close your eyes.

You wake up a couple hours later to Charles’ alarm going off. You turn your body to face him, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

“Good morning,” you whisper, voice slightly raspy. Charles hums, wrapping an arm around you after turning off the alarm.

“Did you sleep well?” Charles asks eventually.

“It’s much better than the hotel rooms I normally stay in with the team,” you reply, not mentioning the added bonus of sleeping next to him.

“I could get used to sleeping beside you, waking up to this every morning,” the room falls into a comfortable silence, just the sound of your breathing filling the space before you decide to address the elephant in the room.

“When are we telling Arthur?” you ask, massing to mentally prepare yourself.

“He will probably call me in an hour. We should tell him then, but we should also talk about last night,” Charles sits up a little.

“I don’t regret any of it. I feel like I stumbled into the opportunity, but it feels right,” you reply quickly, not wanting to leave room for any doubts.

“I’m glad, because I’ve liked you for a long time,” your heart flutters at his smile. You feel like a school girl who will blush at the slightest glance your way.

“I, um, need to shower,” you quickly disappear to the bathroom with your suitcase.

“Fuck,” Charles says under his breath, resting his head on the headboard. There’s no way he fucked it up already. With the water running softly in the background, he orders breakfast to be delivered.

You step out of the bathroom twenty minutes later wearing an oversized shirt you stole from Charles a couple races ago and shorts. Charles has his back you to you, messing with a tray.

“Cherie, breakfast is here,” Charles gently calls out, not realizing you are behind him.

“What did you get?” you peek around him, looking at the modest spread. Some breakfast pastries and two mugs of coffee are resting on the desk. Charles jumps slightly, not expecting you so quickly.

“Your hair is soaked,” Charles laughs as the ends tickles his neck, dampening the collar of his cotton shirt.

“I wonder why,” you tease, tentatively pressing a kiss to his cheek as you reach around him, taking a cup of coffee. Charles turns toward you, pulling you closer for a proper kiss.

Your phone buzzes on the table beside the bed, making you pull away. You carefully rush to grab it, coffee splashing on to your hand a bit despite your efforts.

“It’s Arthur,” you turn to Charles, setting down the coffee before pulling your phone off the charger. Sitting on the plush white bed, you swipe, accepting the video call.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be at the airport,” Arthur asks, his phone shaking as he finds a spot to sit down.

“I am flying Air Max,” you smile, leaning against the headboard. You catch Charles trying to silently stand up from the table and walk towards the bathroom so you could have privacy.

“Fuck,” Charles whisper-yells, accidentally kicking the table leg.

“Is that Charles?” Charles’ eyes widen as he stares at your phone.

“Yeah, I crashed here after Max’s party. Some stuff went down and I didn’t want to be alone,” you want to trauma dump, but now isn’t the right time. Charles sits beside you out of the frame, gently rubbing circles into your leg.

“What happened?” You sneak a look at Charles, silently asking for confirmation that he was ok with you telling Arthur everything.

“I was getting closer with Charles, who says hello by the way,” Charles pinches your thigh, making you try not to smack his hand away. “We, um, kissed, then out of no where Achileas showed up. I had it handled but Max and Charles helped put him in his place,” You power through the mental blocks that tell you that Arthur doesn’t need to know everything. He will find out eventually, why lie now?

“I saw a video and thought it was you two, thank you for being honest,” Arther swallows any bit of hurt. He has a girlfriend, why is he borderline jealous of his brother. Years ago you told a friend that if you couldn’t have Arthur, you wouldn’t date a Leclerc at all. Arthur doesn’t know what made it change or why he found comfort in it.

“You aren’t mad?” Charles appears in the camera frame, looking happier and more relaxed than normal.

“No, of course not. If you guys are happy, then I am too,” Arthur isn’t looking at the screen anymore. “I always knew you’d be a Leclerc,” Arthur watches your smile widen, your head tilted toward Charles almost resting on his shoulder.

“We are taking things slow, so don’t get ahead of yourself,” your light laugh is music to both boys ears. Arthur’s stomach twists as he plasters a fake smile.

“Well, I need to go get groceries. I’ll talk to both of you after your flight. Bye,” Arthur quickly hangs up. You set your phone down on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief at how well the call went.

“So can I officially call you mine?” Charles asks, needing to put a label on it even if you are taking it slow in other areas of the relationship.

“I usually make a guy take me on a date first, but I think I’ll make an exception,”

“Good,”

“Even if it’s for a guy who named his dog after my cat.”

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #max verstappen #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader

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sapphiresaphics · 23 hours ago

Text

I’m STILL not done with this because the downplaying of Jinx’s actions vs the exaggeration of Caitlyn’s is really bugging me.

Yes, Caitlyn uses the vents to pump the Grey into the undercity. But she does it in TARGETED strikes. That’s what a “strike force” IS. It’s a small group of soldiers who go in quickly and precisely to attack vulnerable spots.

In this case, Caitlyn and her crew literally use the same vents they’re pumping the Grey through to get in and out of their targeted locations. Meaning Caitlyn isn’t “gassing the undercity” at all. At best she’s filling a single building with the grey while they attack and then filtering it out when they leave.

“Oh but gas dissipates differently in the undercity than in Piltover because piltover is open air and the undercity is close together and tight.”

Cool… that’s definitely a concern. But we never see any negative side effects from these targeted attacks. It’s established multiple times that you can endure the grey for a while, it just makes it harder to breathe. And while there are immediate side effects of it, you won’t develop terminally ill Viktor-like symptoms unless you’re been exposed to it consistently for years.

Everything Caitlyn is doing is to MITIGATE the loss of innocent civilian lives. Heck, they stumble across a guy Jinx has tied upside down on top of a grey exposed vent for god knows how long and the first thing the strike force does is to try and save his life!

Now compare that to what Jinx does IN THE SAME EPISODE. She sets off a bomb that blasts the entirety of Piltover with the grey. Mixing it with the paint is an even greater act of cruelty because that just makes it harder to wash away and get rid of the toxicity of the grey.

Look at how WIDE SPREAD that attack ended up being! Absolutely NOTHING Caitlyn has been doing has affected the undercity on such a scale!

And this attack affects women, children, and the elderly. We are EXPLICITLY shown this.

AND we are shown what happens to the kids afterwards. I understand this is Ambessa using this child to plead her case for Martial Law, but that doesn’t change that this kid still suffered greatly because of Jinx’s actions.’

Now yes, what Caitlyn is doing is still wrong. Nobody is suggesting otherwise. Caitlyn shouldn’t be attacking the undercity at all. But this idea that Caitlyn is somehow akin to a Nazi gassing the poor people is a really disgusting exaggeration of her crimes AND mitigates the ACTUAL terrorist attack by Jinx that DOES hurt innocent civilians.

And a lot of the justification I’ve seen for the hate against Caitlyn using the grey is often speculation based on nothing the show provides us with answers to, or wild assumptions about the physics of this grey’s toxicity.

Oh and one more thing, in relation to Viktor’s illness… just MAYBE consider that one of the reasons his illness spreads more quickly in his body than, say, Sky’s or Vi or Jinx or Vander… is because as a child he spent a lot of his time IN A TOXIC FISSURE CAVE GIVING THE TOXIC PRECURSOR TO SHIMMER TO RIO.

I dunno, just a thought that MAYBE that contributed to his ultimate health decline? Sky is literally swimming in the dirty waters outside the cave and she is fine… Jinx is baptized by Silco in the same dirty water and she’s fine. Vander and Silco both worked in the mines where the grey was most potent and they’re fine. Silco’s eye is only because of being choked out in the dirty toxic water…

I just think people are being VERY SELECTIVE about how they choose to view the ways the grey affects people.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane spoilers #caitlyn kiramman #the grey #the gray #shimmer #arcane rant #arcane theories

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teecupangel · 18 hours ago

Note

We can make it work. Desmond was in New York before Season 1 so what we can do is make Bad Weather a neutral zone.

Something about Bad Weather debuffs everyone, a kind of dead zone that keeps everyone’s magic ‘diluted’.

Desmond doesn’t realize it until he started seeing ‘the other side’.

And it wasn’t that he started seeing first but he started hearing it. Desmond himself doesn’t realize it but it’s his Eagle Sense adapting to the environment. Because Desmond is trying to ignore his Assassin heritage, including the Eagle Vision so his senses had to adapt because he was a normal human in a ‘dangerous’ location.

So it’s a slow awakening and Kingston felt it. As far as he believes, Desmond was already a New Yorker even if the boy isn’t exactly acting like a native. He can feel the slow awakening so he starts going to the bar to keep an eye on the boy.

That’s how he learned of Desmond’s situation. A young adult just starting his journey, needing support but too shy (too ‘damaged) to ask for it.

And that’s how Desmond started to live with Kingston. “Until he can find a better place to live”

This way, we’ll have Kingston (and the rest of the characters that have been confirmed to be in New York and already ‘awakened’) to support his slow journey to becoming a part of the Unsleeping City while having a lot to play in terms of characters and storyline with the Bad Weather being both a neutral zone and acting similar to the DND beginner tavern.

I would suggest that they don’t. The main point of the Brotherhood is that they stay in the shadow to serve the light. The Hall of Heroes is a place of bright light.

What we can do is add ‘heroes’ there that actually had a close Assassin ally. If Desmond looks deep enough to the history of these heroes, there will be a bit of ‘inconsistency’ that Desmond would easily find (like “roll perception with advantage” type of situation) that would lead him to seeing Assassins throughout the ages helping those with the Questing Blade whether intentionally or a series of events that led them to find one another.

Will this lead to some kind of game mechanic between him and Mr March? Maybe. I’m thinking that Desmond has sneak attack bonuses if he’s attacking someone near Ricky or someone that has attacked (attempted to attack) Ricky.

The idea is Ricky’s light serves to hide Desmond in the shadows better.

This also means that this would transfer to Cody in season 2 and Cody will absolutely think Desmond is so cool, being an ‘edgelord’ assassin character. Desmond just sighs, not even bothering to remind Cody that he isn’t an edgelord “That would be my Syrian ancestor…”

OH GAME MECHANIC WISE!

Once Desmond gets the Bleeding Effect, after every turn, Desmond has to roll a d20.

1 – 5, he has a Bleeding Episode that last for 3 turns.

2 and 3, he rolls a d4, 1 is Altaïr, 2 is Ezio, 3 is Ratonhnhaké:ton and 4 is Haytham.

4, he (the player) gets to pick who he’s Bleeding as.

1, the gm picks. Only in 1 and 4 can Edward be picked.

Of course, each Bleed has their own stats and proficiency + skills.

Desmond himself is a Rogue Assassin with a bit of Ranger Gloom Stalker build.

Altaïr is a Rogue Soulknife with a bit of Conjuration Wizard (his spellbook is fixed and his summons have the same brew as usual but looks like Assassins in general XD)

Ezio is a Rogue Arcane Trickster (not sure what his second class is but I’m thinking something like Champion or Battle Master Fighter idk)

Ratonhnhaké:ton is a Ranger Gloom Stalker with his second class being Assassin Rogue, aka the invert of Desmond’s progression in some ways.

Haytham is a Conquest Paladin with a secondary class of being a Mastermind Rogue

Edward is a Swashbuckler Rogue (his secondary class will be Thief Rogue IF the gm allows it XD)

From @ddxcrow

(this one was me lol) in love with the idea of Desmond asking if Sophie could please take her nasty rat out of the bar. He knows where Kug has been (he has been there before). I'm also imagining the meta-narrative of this scenario where the table jokes abt "iwe need to find a Bart for Desmond to end. Is this one named bart. Can i roll to see if this one's named Bart" & when Desmond finally gets the last hit on something ally goes 'WAIT WE FORGOT TO ASK HIS NAME. WAS HIS NAME BART' & Lo. For the bit, it was. Bart Ender

(thank you for this ask! I had so much fun writing this one since I like making D&D ‘sheets’ for characters) Desmond would remember Kug. He’d just think that he was dreaming back then but, now that he sees him while awake (and sober), he’s just going to go with the flow hahahahaha

It would be so funny if the Bart Ender that they’ve been looking for was in Bad Weather the entire time, they just never asked his name XD

Been holding a thought on my brain for too long abt putting Desmond in Situations: have you watched Dimension 20's The Unsleeping City? At least s1. Bc 1) watch it, it's so good & 2) I specifically in this situation think abt Bad Weather being the normal version of the bar in Broadway that Kingston & Misty go to. Pre-canon Desmond seeing past the Umbral Arcana & getting involved in magic shenanigans..... Yeah.

You know his latent Eagle Vision is peeling out & seeing the magic shit happening in New York City. You KNOWWWWW. Please tell me one of your followers has been thinking this too.

I have good news for you, nonny, because I have just started watching Dimension 20 this year but I am a slow watcher so I’ve only gotten as far as the first 3 episodes of Unsleeping City season 2 (atm, I think my fav D20 moment is with the Bad Kids’ “Spring Break, I believe in you!” XD). I’m one of those few people who’s pathway to D&D and TTRPG is Oxventure→No Rolls Barred/Chaotic Neutral→Mystery Quest so I am absolutely late to the party XD

Anyway, for this one, we need to do a bit of housekeeping.

I’m basing this on the title of the opening theme New York 2006 because I think that’s the year Season 1 was set (feel free to correct me though)

This means that Desmond would be 19 at that point and we can push it that he’s already working in Bad Weather.

Now, I like the idea that Bad Weather is the normal version of the bar that Kingston and Misty goes to but, may I suggest an alternative?

An earlier possible way to add Desmond to all these shenanigans is to make Bad Weather one of the bars Sofia and Kugrash go to for their ‘hairy baby free drinks scam’.

Towards the end, maybe the last bar they go to, Desmond walks up to Sofia and requested that they leave because the big rat pet she had would make other customers uncomfortable.

Sofia and Kugrash are already drunk at this moment but they hear Desmond call Kugrash a rat and are like “you can see him???”.

Kugrash immediately remembers Desmond as one of the homeless kids he helped when Desmond first moved into the city and had clocked him as ‘strange’ because there was something about him that felt... not exactly magical but almost magical-adjacent.

This ends with Sofia and Kugrash inviting Desmond to their new party as a recruit (with Sofia thinking both (1) this boy needs someone in his life to take care of him and now I’m trying not to cry because my cheating (as far as she knows) husband and I never had kids and (2) maybe he and Pete can get along as newbies with me)

And that is how our Intrepid Heroes managed to recruit an Assassin Rogue who may or may not multiclass to Gloom Stalker in a different playstyle to Liam Wilhelmina.

Unorganized Notes:

This is a Desmond who doesn’t know about his destiny or his ancestors but his training on the Farm is so ingrained into him that it makes him a Rogue.

Because of his lack of knowledge, we can argue that he could turn into a Thief Rogue instead of Assassin in this one because he had never assassinated anyone before.

In terms of playstyle, he’d actually be more a close combat attacker that uses some kind of switchknife with sneak attack being part of 'bonus action: hide -> main action: sneak attack')

Another suggestion I have is for Desmond to subclass as Phantom, more because of ‘Whisper of the Dead’ where every short or long rest, he can gain one skill or tool proficiency and the flavor text describes it as one of the ghostly presence shares its knowledge to the user. Desmond has no idea what this means because this is pre-canon but this is actually his ancestors managing to create a link to him in some form thanks to the Umbral Arcana mixing with his ‘destiny’.

If you want Desmond to be given the illusion of choice and not be a Rogue, we can make him a Warlock ‘worshiping’ an unknown Fathomless. In this setup, they don’t know who Desmond’s patron is and Desmond himself just shrugs because he can do magic so that’s nice. Part of his deal is that he receives messages from his patron in the form of texts on his phone. They all come from an unknown number he can’t call and the texts are always like ‘The Scholar is pleased with your desire to learn about the history of this place’ or ‘The Prophet is worried of your health and asks that you requests your companions for a rest’ or ‘The Hunter suggests you still find a weapon even if you are using magic’ and this is some weird shit even for Kingston because it seems like Desmond has multiple patrons or maybe even an entire pantheon of unknown gods/beings.

Abstergo is going to be so fucked in this one because, by the time they try to kidnap Desmond, he’d probably be around level 10~12 and maybe even living with Pete in his apartment.

And yes. Desmond absolutely knows Ricky as Mister March as well XD

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moonfurthetemmie · 1 year ago

Text

I present to you

Glaze and Tempera

Tempera (any pronouns):

Energetic, and very outwardly chaotic. Frequently talks without thinking. They tend to have the wilder ideas of the pair, not that that’s saying much. I’m gonna project so much adhd onto them by accident

He thinks it’s hilarious that Ink, the one who’d be the worst parent, was saddled with two clones to take care of, instead of just one like everyone else. Temp enjoys going out of his way to irritate her.

Temp’s fighting style is basically ‘run in circles and tire out her opponent while sticking her pointy stick wherever she can’. She’s strong and fast, and if there’s one good thing she can say about Ink, it’s that she was a good teacher when it came to fighting.

It always tends to wear outfits that have one little piece that seems out of place. It think it’s funny. It try to get Glaze to do it, too, for the bit, but Glaze just calls it an idiot (affectionate). Other than that, neither twin has a set sense of style. Temp tends to flip through more “gendered” outfits than Glaze; as in they’ve got more outfits with different ‘gender’ vibes than Glaze. Glaze tends to lean into more feminine outfits, even if she’s all over the spectrum of ‘feminine clothes’

Glaze (she/her):

Just as chaotic as her sibling, but you wouldn’t know it just by looking at her. She seems to be the sensible one, which the twins absolutely use to their advantage when they’re getting up to shit.

More calculating and sarcastic than Tempera, Glaze is hard to get along with at first. They both have trouble with new people, but Glaze tends to be more wary.

She has mostly the same physical capabilities as Temp, but she has better reaction times. She prefers to watch for and take advantage of any and all openings, and goes for quick strikes and careful dodging.

Glaze isn’t too fond of the way she and the others were created just to keep an eye on a couple of statues. None of them are, but her especially. Why do they have to deal with this? Why couldn’t the older ones just find some random people to make their apprentices or something?? If she can, she’s going to find someone to replace her in this. This is stupid.

…She rethinks this plan some after Corvus and Orion are revived.

She and Temp frequently ‘coordinate’ outfits to be of completely opposing vibes. Glaze has just as many spiky vests and emo jackets as her sibling.

Also!

Ink

She was literally the worst person to be the caretaker of a kid, out of everyone. And she ended up with two. It’s a good thing everyone decided to do group parenting shit, because Glaze and Tempera would probably have way worse issues.

She did a little bit of research into what kids need, but only in terms of like, basic necessities for survival. Kids are just little people, they don’t need that much attention, right? She can leave them to their own devices somewhat.

Glaze and Temp are lucky the others reminded Ink that small kids are stupid and adventurous, and that she needed to make sure they couldn’t get into anything toxic or otherwise dangerous.

She did teach them how to fight though. If nothing else, she was a good mentor for fighting.

Glaze and Temp may have called her ‘mom’ when they were young, but now she’s just ‘our legal guardian, Ink.’

Other little notes:

Tempera’s weapon, according to heroforge, is called a sang kauw. It has a crescent-shaped blade over the handle that can be used for blocking or striking.

Glaze and Temp’s weapons are summonable like Ink’s, I just wanted to show them off.

Tempera’s morality alignment is Chaotic Neutral. Glaze’s is True Neutral

Before I got them names, Glaze and Temp were referred to as the ‘DS-Ink-coded twin’ and the ‘OG-Ink-coded twin’ because of the double inks in the original dream

They are so fucking chaotic they live in my head rent-free I love them so much they’re so stupid

#Sunfall Glaze #Sunfall Tempera #Sunfall DS #Sunfall Ink #they are!!!!! so!!!!!!!!!!#THESE TWO idiots are the reason I went with clones for most of the newbies #BY THE WAY if one of Temp’s eyes seems to have a bigger pupil than the other #it doesn’t. but isn’t that such a cool effect #fucking sick. I have no idea why that happened I just made that one eye blue #it’s so neat #anyways #I wasn’t going to do any of the older ones but I decided that four of them would probably look a lil different so

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no1ryomafan · 4 months ago

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The urge to do a breakdown of arma and new ryoma specifically to try to understand why new ryoma is not at all acknowledged compared to arma despite new having far more screen time and being explored as a character then arma is so strong even though the answer boils down to two things: “art style preference” and “no one cares about ryoma as a actual nuance character” but both of those points makes me so mad💀

#meg text #getter robo #ryoma nagare #I was ranting about this subject last night to my friend and I can’t let it go #like I don’t hate arma ryoma he’s ffs the reason I got into getter and I think there’s stuff to pull from him #but compared to new he’s not as fleshed out even if he has a personality and core traits yet hes the popular one #but no one cares how developed ryoma is as long as he’s cool and that’s fucking painful #like even the people who bitch about armas middle half complain about ryomas absence but not for missed potential #they’re just mad the “cool” guy isn’t doing “cool” things when dawg shin getter is the one doing it #and yes this is a actual observation I’ve had because I’ve witness this a handful of times (once even by a IRL)#I need to study arma ryoma under a microscope to understand what he does to change peoples brain chemistry #and why new ryoma doesn’t have the same effect despite being a better written interpretation of the character

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melhekhelmurkun · 11 months ago

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Is it just me or do the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms (famously located in the dungeons for some fucking reason) just seem like the absolute worst for depression

#like…#the cold stone and lack of windows/natural light #and the overall eerie dark feeling it would have #and how enclosed it is #a fucking dungeon who puts children in a dungeon #it’s so weird #even with the wonders of fanfiction creating common rooms for them it seems depressing af #like yeah sure MAYBE the Hufflepuff common room has magic sunlight so it doesn’t seem like you’re underground #but that also seems uncomfy because does magic sunlight have the same effects as sunlight sunlight? where’s my vitamin d bitch #and the Slytherin common room like… we’ve technically seen parts of it already #and fandom has also done a lot for it #I like the idea of the floor to ceiling windows looking out into the Black Lake #but again THAT is 100% totally depressing #it would look cool but it would be so terrible #the warmth of that sunlight isn’t gonna get through the water #and the light would be tinted green #not a good look tbh #idk just a thought I suddenly had while waiting for my shift to start #harry potter #hogwarts houses

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honey-tongued-devil · 12 days ago

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[Arcane preference] reacting to their s/o wearing parfum

As usual, if you'd like to read more of my work, I have an ongoing Arcane fanfiction, Everytime It Rains (based on the alternative timeline). Click here! to read it. As for this headcanon, I had run out of my perfume stash and just restocked with Scandal, Black Opium, Honey Aoud, and Bianco Latte (all sweet with vanilla notes). So, this headcanon is my way of channeling the euphoria of my perfume obsession.

Jayce:

He’s not overly sensitive to perfumes. If you spray it while in the same room as him, he doesn’t feel the need to leave because he can’t breathe.

For this very reason, it always takes him a little while—not to notice it, but to figure out where it’s coming from.

The sweeter the scent, the more likely his first assumption is that you’ve bought or baked something sweet while he wasn’t around.

When you laugh and tell him there are no sweets and it’s your new perfume, he’s a little embarrassed but in a sweet, endearing way.

He’ll hug you, press his nose into the crook of your neck, and take in as much of the scent as he can to memorize it.

He doesn’t have issues with any scent. Sweeter ones make him sniff you more often because they make his mouth water, while spicier, “evening” notes are something he enjoys when you’re resting against him.ù

Viktor:

He’s very sensitive to perfumes; freshly sprayed scents give him headaches and make him feel short of breath.

This is probably a lingering effect from Zaun—his body reacts viscerally the moment the air isn’t clean and well-oxygenated.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it. You just need to let the alcohol component fade a bit before getting close to him, or at least spray it in another room.

He’s a bit more reserved than others; he’ll sniff it from your wrist while holding it lightly.

“Mh… yes, I’ve always dreamed of being in a relationship with a pastry shop.”

“You mean a pastry chef.”

“No, I know what I said.”

Ekko:

This man is a truffle dog; he notices the moment you arrive with a different scent.

His talent is playing it cool, becoming flirtier, and acting like a caricature of a gentleman trying to court you.

He prefers spicier scents to sweeter ones. If you wear something with vanilla notes, he’ll tease you, saying you smell like “the cake served by a Piltie’s servants,” but he doesn’t actually dislike it.

If a mission is particularly bad or he has a bad feeling about the day, he’ll ask you to spray some of your perfume on a handkerchief he keeps in his pocket, so he can hold on to your scent and feel closer to you.

Vander:

You could spray it directly into his nose, and he couldn’t care less. With the bar, he’s used to strong smells from cleaning products, spirits, and late-night disasters.

The alcohol in perfumes doesn’t bother him.

The downside is that he doesn’t notice it right away—he just doesn’t pay attention to it.

He generally tries to give you his full attention, but these little details sometimes slip past him. When you point it out, he’ll immediately try to make up for it if he remembers noticing something different in the air that day.

He’ll sniff it from your neck, slowly moving downward, justifying it as “trying to see how it blends with your natural scent.”

Silco (old man):

He prefers bold perfumes with character, like amber or woody scents, and finds excessively sweet ones rather childish.

He won’t hesitate to share this opinion in front of you.

He’s the kind of man who enjoys tobacco, wears Acqua di Giò, drinks warm whiskey—in short, he favors bitter and spicy notes.

But that won’t stop him from quickly growing accustomed to the scent he initially disliked so much, the one that makes you recognizable even as you ascend the stairs.

He’ll look for something similar or with complementary notes to gift you himself, though he’ll never admit that he’s come to appreciate it.

Silco (young man):

It’s rare for there to be an occasion to wear perfume, which is why the same evening you show up at the bar wearing it, he notices immediately.

He doesn’t have a particular preference for perfumes. But his love language is sarcasm, so regardless, he’ll make an ironic (but not mean) comment before telling you it suits you.

When you’re away, he’ll look for a piece of your clothing with the strongest scent to sleep with so he can feel close to you. When he’s the one far away, he’ll ask you to give him something, anything, with a bit of your scent on it.

He won’t sniff you in public—only when you’re alone, in private.

Jinx:

She loves sweet scents and hates bitter or overly amber ones.

“You smell like a pastry.”

The sweeter the perfume, the more likely you’ll catch her sniffing you or your things, just a moment before she clutches her stomach, whining about craving chocolate, caramel, or something sweet.

She’ll ask for a spritz of your perfume too, so she can smell as if “she just walked out of a bakery.” too

She prefers when you spray it in her hideout or in one of her rooms, so it clings to things and improves the overall smell.

Vi:

She doesn’t notice it right away because it’s not the sort of thing she pays attention to.

On one hand, she doesn’t love perfumes or anything that covers up natural scents. She prefers your smell—your skin’s scent—the one that drives her wild.

On the other hand, perfume is a fancy thing that hasn’t been much of a reality in her life, except for the cologne Vander used to wear.

Which was suffocating because he always overdid it.

She prefers spicier scents over sweet ones but doesn’t dislike anything.

She’ll kiss your hand and offer her arm, mimicking a fancy Piltover couple, babbling nonsense about non-existent upcoming galas and the finest shoe polish brands.

Caitlyn:

“How does she react?” When? When she’s accompanying you to buy it?

If you’re torn between more than one perfume, she’ll buy you the other without letting you know.

She notices immediately when you wear it, smiles at you, lifts your face, and kisses you with the unspoken understanding that this small indulgence is your personal little secret.

Those days tend to heat up quickly, often ending on the bed before you even realize it.

For the most important evenings, she’ll suggest which one you should wear.

Mel:

She hates overly sweet perfumes, finding them suffocating and cloying.

She doesn’t overdo her own perfume either, spraying twice into the air and walking through the mist so it’s not too strong or unnatural.

She prefers it once it’s already faded, so she can still breathe when she kisses you.

Ultimately, she’ll grow accustomed to whatever you wear. Sure, she’d prefer a citrusy or more floral scent, but as long as it’s on you, anything is acceptable.

Sevika:

She prefers none at all. She likes the natural scent of skin, whether it’s faint or strong.

She finds perfumes draw too much attention.

She’d never tell you this outright, though. However, if your perfume is too sweet, she’ll tease you, saying she didn’t realize she was dating a brioche. If it’s too strong and bitter, she’ll joke that you’re giving her PTSD and making her feel like she’s at work.

She doesn’t mind when you wear it on nights out together, because if someone notices the scent and turns around, they’ll see you’re with her.

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cruel-seduction · 23 days ago

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Theodore Nott Headcanons

Warning: This piece contains themes of possessiveness, obsessive behavior, and dark romance undertones. Theodore’s devotion might be overwhelming, intense, and not suited for everyone’s taste. Reader discretion is advised.

(+ Requests are open so if you wanna request something, go ahead)

mdni 18+

Theodore Nott

6’4 | He’s taller than Mattheo, and yes, he lords it over him (quietly, of course, because Theo is above petty behavior… unless it’s funny).

Lean, but don’t be fooled—this man is cut. He’s that deadly kind of fit where you don’t notice at first because he’s always wearing loose sweaters and looking like a poetry major. But the second the sleeves roll up? Oh. My. God. Veins for DAYS, hands strong enough to snap a wand in half (or your will to argue).

He doesn’t work out. Like, ever. He’s just naturally like this. Probably from lugging around all those dark magic books and the emotional weight of his trauma (we love a man with issues!).

(He could choke you with one hand while quoting Dante and your ghost would thank him. RESPECTFULLY!)

Has that sleepy, “don’t bother me, I’m too cool for this” kind of vibe. Until he’s pissed, and suddenly it’s quiet rage central. A single glare from him could silence an entire Great Hall—and probably has.

His abs? Unfair. They’re there, but in the casual, effortless way that makes you want to cry because why do they look that good without trying? If you’re lucky enough to see him shirtless (bless your soul), you’ll be rethinking your life decisions.

Quidditch player energy without ever actually playing. His thing? Sitting in the stands, sipping black coffee, and judging everyone while looking hot.

"YOU WANNA KNOW IF I’D FOLLOW THEODORE INTO A CURSED FOREST AT MIDNIGHT JUST BECAUSE HE SAID SO??? THE ANSWER IS YES. I’D GO, NO QUESTIONS ASKED."

You think he’s calm and controlled until you see him in a duel, and suddenly he’s throwing hexes like he’s possessed. It’s giving “do-not-poke-the-bear” energy, and it’s hot.

His smirk? Criminal. It’s the kind of smirk that makes you forget how to breathe for a second and then hate yourself because he definitely knows the effect it has on people.

“Mia cara,” he says, and you’re done for. No wand needed. He just obliterated your whole existence.

Theodore Nott | Personality

He’s quiet, but it’s that kind of quiet. The "I could verbally destroy you with a single sentence but choose not to because I have better things to do" kind of quiet.

(WE LOVE A MAN WITH RESTRAINED CHAOS!!! IT’S SO SEXY!!!)

His reputation is split down the middle. People either think he’s the chillest guy in Slytherin or they’re low-key terrified of him. There is no in-between. He doesn’t go out of his way to make people uncomfortable, but if you catch his bad side? RIP to you, my friend.

Very composed most of the time, but don’t mistake that for softness. Theo doesn’t raise his voice; he raises his eyebrow. And somehow, that’s worse.

"You really thought that was a good idea? Cute."

Stone-cold when it comes to confrontations. No yelling, no theatrics—just a quiet menace that makes you wish he’d scream at you instead because this is SO MUCH WORSE.

However, if it’s for his friends? Oh, baby, the gloves come off. Someone messes with Mattheo? He’s done. Someone insults you? They’re not showing up to class tomorrow. He’s terrifyingly efficient when it comes to protecting the people he loves.

Doesn’t talk a lot in fights, but his insults are cutting when they come out. And he does it with a smirk that makes you want to both slap him and kiss him.

"What’s the matter? Spellbook too heavy for you? Or is it just that your brain isn’t working?"

Unlike Mattheo, he doesn’t get in trouble for starting fights. Oh no, Theo’s the one who talks his way out of detention, leaving the professors wondering how they ended up apologizing to him.

Let’s be real, Theo has layers. He’s the kind of guy who looks calm and put together on the outside, but his mind? A mess. Overthinks everything, but you’ll never know it because he’s mastered the art of hiding his emotions. (He’s good at this, but it’s also probably why he sleeps like four hours a night.)

Moody, but in a subtle way. You’ll notice when he’s upset because he’ll get even quieter, or start tapping his fingers on the table. He’s not the type to vent about it—he’ll just say “it’s nothing” while his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear it crack.

Theo loves order. He’s a perfectionist and gets mildly stressed when things don’t go according to plan. He doesn’t lose his temper, though—he just sighs dramatically and mutters something in Italian like "Per l’amor del cielo..."

(BILINGUAL KINGS ARE UNFAIR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CAN INSULT ME IN TWO LANGUAGES?)

A total academic weapon. Not because he tries super hard, but because he’s just naturally brilliant and does the bare minimum to get top marks. He can explain a spell you’ve been struggling with for days in five seconds flat, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Always looks like he’s in control, but put him in social situations? Total disaster. Theo’s not awkward, but he doesn’t do small talk. Half the time, he just nods politely and hopes whoever’s talking gets the hint.

Has the driest sense of humor. He’ll drop a sarcastic one-liner so deadpan you’re not even sure if he’s joking.

"I think your essay was… bold. Choosing to write it in such a confusing way must’ve been a creative choice."

Drinks coffee like it’s water. Black coffee, of course. None of that sugary stuff, though he secretly loves when you make him try your sweet drink.

Doesn’t like parties but goes because the group makes him. He’s the guy sitting on the couch, watching everyone else make fools of themselves while holding a drink he hasn’t touched. (He’s your ride home because you know he’s always sober enough to apparate responsibly.)

Theodore Nott | Boyfriend

Ah, Theodore Nott, the walking paradox of calculated charm and quiet vulnerability. Having him as your boyfriend is like playing chess against a master—except the stakes are your heart, and he already has you in checkmate before you even realize the game started.

Manipulation, Thy Name is Theo:Theodore isn’t one to beg for your love; oh no, he’s too smooth for that. Instead, he’ll make sure you think choosing him was your idea all along.

He’ll subtly nudge you into needing him.

He anticipates your desires before you even say them aloud:

"Thirsty? I grabbed your favorite drink. Tired? Don’t worry, I already finished that essay you were stressing about."

He’s not loud about his possessiveness, but it’s there. You don’t realize it at first, but suddenly, every other guy who tries to get too close to you is either giving you a wide berth or “just happened” to fail their next exam. Coincidence? With Theo, nothing is a coincidence.

(We love a man who’s low-key terrifying but only in a protective way!)

How He Realized He Was in Love:Theo didn’t believe in love. Love was messy, uncontrollable, and entirely too risky for someone who thrived on precision and control. But then you came along, and everything changed.

It was slow at first. He didn’t notice it happening until one day, you smiled at him across the library, and he felt his carefully constructed walls crack.

And then it hit him.

“Merlin, I’m in love with her.”

Of course, Theo didn’t panic outwardly. No, he spent the next week internally spiraling.

"What does this mean?"

"What if she doesn’t feel the same way?"

"How do I tell her without sounding like an idiot?"

Eventually, he decided that subtlety was overrated. One evening, while you were sitting in his dorm, flipping through one of his books, he just said it.

"I love you."

You froze, unsure if you heard him correctly. He didn’t look away, his intense gaze pinning you in place.

"You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know."

Affection, Theo Style:Theo isn’t flashy or over-the-top, but he’s deeply romantic in his own way.

Words of Praise: He’s a master of compliments that don’t feel like compliments until you think about them later.

"You’re too brilliant for this school, you know that?""How do you manage to look stunning even when you’re furious with me?""You’re the only person who’s ever managed to make me lose focus, mia cara."

Subtle Acts of Service: He’s always doing things for you without making a big deal out of it. Your favorite quill broke? There’s a new one on your desk the next day. You’re stressed about a test? He’ll quiz you until you feel confident (and then reward you with a kiss for every right answer).

The Praise Kink Is Real, Babe:Theo doesn’t just praise you to make you feel good. He needs you to know how much he adores you. Whether it’s your intelligence, your kindness, or just the way you look in his sweater, he’s always quick to remind you of your worth.

"You’re too good for me, you know that?" he murmurs against your ear, his hand resting on your hip. "But don’t think for a second I’ll ever let you go."

(Is it hot in here or is it just Theo?)

The Possessiveness Comes Out in Subtle Ways:

At parties, his hand is always resting somewhere on you—your lower back, your shoulder, your thigh. A quiet signal to everyone else: She’s mine.

If someone flirts with you, he doesn’t cause a scene. Instead, he’ll step in with that dangerously calm demeanor, his words laced with thinly veiled threats.

"I believe you’re in my seat." Translation: Touch her again, and you’ll regret it.

Theodore, the Unexpected Softie:For someone so composed, Theo is surprisingly soft when it’s just the two of you.

He loves curling up with you on the couch, one arm draped over your shoulders while he reads aloud from a book he thinks you’d enjoy.

Sleeps with one hand always touching you—your waist, your hand, your hair. It’s the only time he truly relaxes.

Occasionally whispers “I don’t deserve you” when he thinks you’re asleep.

Having Theo as a boyfriend is a rollercoaster of intensity and tenderness. He’s the type to protect you from the world while also making you feel like you’re the center of his universe. And honestly? We’d ride that roller coaster over and over again.

Theodore Nott | Obsessive Devotion

If Mattheo is chaos in bed, Theodore is calculated destruction. Theo doesn’t rush—no, he takes his time. He knows every move, every word, every touch is designed to drive you absolutely insane.

The Slow Burn King:Theo isn’t just about getting you off; he’s about making you beg. He’s not the type to drag you into the nearest broom closet and go at it like a madman. No, Theo prefers to let the tension build—catching your eye across the library with a smirk, his hand brushing yours during dinner, leaning in close to whisper something sinful in your ear when no one else is looking.

"You’re squirming, mia cara. Tell me, what’s on your mind?"

Possessive but Polished:He loves control—holding you still with a firm grip while his mouth works wonders between your thighs. Theo thrives on the sound of your moans and whimpers, each one a confirmation that you belong to him.

But don’t get it twisted: his possessiveness is refined. He’s not shouting it from the rooftops; instead, he’s branding it into your skin with every kiss, every bite, every low growl of, “Mine.”

(We love a man who can ruin our lives with just one look.)

Praise You Like a Goddess:Theo is the king of praise. He’s not subtle about how much he worships you, and he makes sure you know it.

"You’re so perfect, amore mio. I could stay like this forever, just watching you fall apart for me."

He’ll kiss every inch of your skin like it’s holy ground. He’ll tell you how beautiful you are when you’re flushed, trembling, and completely at his mercy.

And if you praise him back? Game over. Tell him he’s a good boy, and suddenly you’ve unlocked the most obedient, eager-to-please version of Theo. He’ll do anything to hear you say it again.

Control with a Dash of Chaos:Theo’s not loud, but his intensity is deafening. He thrives on being in control, but sometimes he loves to break his own rules. If you push him just enough—maybe tease him in public or drag him into a forbidden situation—he’ll snap in the most delicious way.

"You think you can play games with me? Let me show you how this ends, bella."

Experimentation, but Make It Sophisticated:Theo isn’t one to dive into wild kinks without purpose, but he’s creative when it comes to trying new things.

Silk ties? Check.

Blindfolds? Of course.

Whispering Latin endearments in your ear while he has you completely at his mercy? A standard Tuesday night.

And don’t get me started on the way he uses his fingers—this man could write symphonies with how skillfully he plays your body like an instrument.

Stamina for Days:Don’t let his cool demeanor fool you—Theo can and will go for hours. He has the patience to draw out every moment until you’re gasping and begging for release, and then he’ll do it all over again.

"Oh no, dolcezza. We’re not finished yet. Not until I’ve had my fill of you."

Switch Theo = UNLOCKED:Normally, Theo’s the one in control, but when you take charge? When you straddle his hips, grip his jaw, and order him to behave? He’s putty in your hands.

"Tell me what you want, bella. Anything—it’s yours."

And the best part? He loves it. Watching you take what you want from him, hearing you praise him as he falls apart under your touch—it’s enough to drive him to the brink every single time.

In Private, He’s All Yours:While Theo keeps his emotions tightly guarded in public, behind closed doors, he’s all in. He loves to hold you afterward, running his fingers through your hair and whispering sweet nothings as you both come down from the high.

"You’re everything, you know that? My whole world."

Having Theodore Nott as a lover is like being the muse of a masterpiece—every touch, every word, every moment is designed to make you feel like the most desired person on the planet. And honestly? We’re not complaining

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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briefinquiries · 4 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader: I Choose You

Request: Anonymous said: "jealous tyler or jealous reader would be interesting to read 👀"

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none!

A/N: not sure how i feel about this one but I gave it a go and wanted to make sure I posted!

Tyler tells himself that he’s over thinking… maybe even reading too much into things.

But God, he swears he isn’t imagining the way that you and the reporter he’d agreed to let tag along for the next week naturally interact with one another with such ease.

Tyler is not a jealous person– he’s confident and secure and he trusts you. Jealousy is petty and it’s stupid. And Tyler’s been trying his whole life to prove to himself and everyone around him that he’s not stupid.

Tyler has a loose shock to repair before the storm they’ve been tracking rolls in later that day. He’s currently laying on the dirt at the rest stop they’ve pulled in, with a wrench in his hand. Dani’s shining their flashlight for him, and it’s important he stays focused. And he tries… really, he does.

But Tyler looks up just as the reporter laughs at a joke you’ve made. And then, he reaches out to touch your arm for the added effect. Tyler nearly drops the wrench he’s holding on his face at the sight.

“Easy, T,” Dani says, studying him closely.

He takes a deep breath before looking back towards the truck.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dani asks, kicking his shoulder gently with their boot.

“Nothing,” Tyler grumbles in a tone that screams there is absolutely something wrong. Thankfully Dani doesn’t push.

…

Throughout the rest of the week, Tyler tries to talk himself down whenever jealousy rears its ugly head. He keeps telling himself that he’s being irrational– you’re not flirting with the reporter everytime you walk with him into the gas stations they stop at, or offer to ride with him in the van instead of Tyler’s truck, where you normally sit. You’re just trying to be friendly… make him feel at ease.

But did he really have to look at you that way while you studied the GPS monitoring system? Or share his fucking cookies with you when everyone ate lunch in the field? And did you have to laugh so loudly at every single joke he made?

Tyler finds out on the second night he’s tagging along that Henry’s a fucking Columbia grad on top of a stupid self-proclaimed comedian. The two of you are sitting around the fire talking about graduate degrees when Henry turns towards him.

“Did you two meet at school then?” Henry asks.

Tyler smiles, but instead of warmth it’s laced with sarcasm. “Nope, I don’t have one of those fancy degrees, Henry. In fact, none of us but her do.”

Henry turns back towards you and proceeds to ask more questions about your time studying meteorology at the U of A. Meanwhile, Tyler is left to simmer in his own self pity, wondering if it bothered you that he isn’t educated like Henry.

Tyler has to spend the rest of the week fighting the urge to make it known you’re his– he’s had thoughts of keeping a permanent hand planted on your waist right in front of Henry. Maybe if he pulled you in for a kiss a little more often, and really claimed you as his, this guy would back the hell off.

But Tyler quickly shakes away the thought.

Because claiming you like an object is stupid, and Tyler is not stupid.

…

Tyler grabs you a coffee from the nearest gas station and brings it back to the motel because he’s really trying to move past all this shit. You’re sitting with Lilly and fiddling with the drone when he tries to hand it to you.

You offer him an appreciative smile that warms his entire chest. Tyler’s definitely been overreacting, because you’re looking at him with such love and admiration in your eyes.

“Thanks, but I’ve already had some today,” you say, crushing every hope inside of him in an instant. “Why don’t you give it to Dani? They take their coffee the same as I do.”

“When did you have time to get coffee?” he asks, trying to play it cool.

You reply so simply, like the words don’t slice right through his heart. “I didn’t, Henry brought me one.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens. It’s a gesture you don’t notice, because you’re too busy focusing on the drone half in your lap.

What you do seem to notice, is the way he scoffs. It makes yours and Lilly’s heads both turn.

But before you can reply, Tyler’s already walking away. He clutches the coffee firmly in his hand and without a word, drops the full cup in the trash can outside the motel.

…

Tyler has to remind himself that he’s not angry.

At least not at you.

You and him have a great relationship. He trusts you and that’s all there is to it. Whether it’s Henry or whoever else– you never gave Tyler a reason to be worried.

But Tyler doesn’t like the way seeing you with the reporter makes him feel. Because at any moment, you could leave him for someone with a more respectable career– someone with fair skin and button up polos who just looked like they had their shit together. Someone with a college degree… someone a hell of a lot smarter than him.

Seeing you with him made Tyler feel vulnerable, like he had something to lose– because he had everything to lose.

…

The crew spends another week chasing in Oklahoma. The season’s winding down, but they still managed to catch two EF0s and an EF1.

Tyler’s been avoiding you for most of the week. He’d offer the truck space to Boone and Lilly, he’d sit next to Dexter around the fire at night… hell, he would hardly even look at you.

You turned down his coffee earlier in the week. Only after the fact did you realize that you should have just taken the damn thing. You understand that rejecting him after he went out of his way to do something nice for you hurt his feelings… But you can’t understand how that turned into an entire week of the silent treatment.

On numerous instances, you try to approach him. But he always has somewhere to run off to.

“I gotta help Dani with the van’s oil change.”

“I gotta see if Boone got the footage we need.”

“I gotta give Dexter a hand with the radar.”

You’re getting sick of it.

You try to distract yourself for the rest of the week– you ask Lilly to explain more about how to work her drone, you keep on top of the radar– looking for forming storm cells, and you try to make the reporter Tyler had invited along for the week feel welcome.

Henry’s nice– he’s completely new to storm chasing and has loads of questions all the time. You find it slightly annoying that he’s so interested in Tyler… but you get it. And even though you’re a little irritated with Tyler for your week-long silent-treatment sentence, you still want him to sound as good as possible in the article, so you talk him up every chance you can.

You know that this lack of communication can’t last. And the second Henry goes back to Boston to write his piece, you plan to corner Tyler and force him into telling you what the hell you’d done wrong. But until then, you don’t want to cause a scene. So, you sit back, spend more time talking with Henry about Tyler, and try like hell not to lose your mind.

…

It’s more for his own sanity than anything. It’s like seeing you with Henry has caused this sudden realization to pop into his head… You can do better– and honestly you deserve better than him. The thought is all consuming. It makes focusing on anything else incredibly difficult.

“You gonna tell us what the hell is up?” Lilly asks one day.

Tyler’s currently standing in the bed of his truck, tinkering things that didn’t really need to be fixed just to stay busy.

“What do you mean?” he replies without looking up.

“I mean are you going to tell us why you two love birds haven’t spoken in like three days?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler notices Boone glancing his way with an expression on his face that says he was wondering the same thing.

“We’ve spoken,” Tyler says dismissively.

“Telling her you don’t have room for her in the truck doesn’t count,” Lilly retorts. “C’mon, seriously, Ty. What’s wrong?”

Tyler sets his tool down and looks down at Lilly. “Nothing is wrong.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “Okay, well are you sure she knows that? Cause Dani and I saw her crying in the bathroom.”

Tyler lets out a long exhale– the thought of you upset instantly filling his insides with sorrow. But the thought that he was the one to make you upset is even worse.

“I know it’s not my business,” Lilly adds. “But I’ve been watching you give her the silent treatment all week, and that’s not going to fix anything. I know Henry’s still here and it’s been a crazy week–”

Tyler can’t help the scoff that escapes his lips at the mention of Henry’s name.

Lilly pauses before a look of understanding washes over her. “You’re pissed that she’s been hanging with Henry.” She says it as a statement instead of a question.

“I’m not–”

“I’ve known you for six years, don’t even try to deny it. You are– you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

With his lips pursed in a thin line, Tyler raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I am. Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

Now it was Lilly’s turn to scoff. “Of course it doesn’t make me happy. You’re being an idiot.”

“What?”

“I said that you’re being an idiot,” Lilly says, annunciating each word insultingly.

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’m well aware that I’m an idiot, but thanks for reminding me.”

“I said you’re being an idiot, Tyler. Not that you are one. Now stop sulking and fucking listen for once in your goddamn life.”

It’s so out of the ordinary for Lilly to snap that Tyler actually does shut his mouth.

“You invite a reporter on the road with us and then you don’t give him the time of day to answer any of the questions he has. You’re short and curt and to be honest, kind of fucking rude anytime he asks you anything. Y/N is being polite– and she’s hosting the guest you invited along. So don’t fucking blame her just because you’re insecure.”

Tyler can feel the anger rising in his own chest, he wants to get defensive– to snap back at Lilly. But deep down, he knows she’s right, so he stifles any comebacks and instead hangs his head.

Lilly sighs. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler. So stop acting like one.”

…

After letting Lilly’s words really sink in, Tyler decides that she’s right. For the first time all week, he’s motivated to actually talk with you and make things right.

Or at least he is right until he sees Henry approaching you in the parking lot. He’s too far away to hear what Henry has to say. But he’s not so far away that he doesn't see the folded up piece of paper that he passes you.

In an instant, everything Lilly had said– along with all the things he’s said to convince himself he’s been overreacting flies away with the wind. Because Henry just gave you his fucking phone number.

Tyler turns– needing to get as much space from whatever exchange he just witnessed as he possibly can. In a few, long, angry strides, Tyler reaches his truck and climbs inside. In the distance, he hears Lilly call after him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slams the door shut, starts the ignition and drives away.

…

“Where’s he goin’?” Boone says just as you approach him and the rest of the crew.

“Dunno. He didn’t say anything to you?” Dani asks, turning towards Lilly.

She shakes her head, eyes squinting against the bright sun.

“What the hell is his problem?” you say frustratedly, biting back tears.

Stupidly, you’d let yourself get your hopes up earlier in the day when Tyler had offered you a small smile over breakfast. You had thought that maybe things were alright, and that he was finally over whatever had been bothering him so badly.

But now you’re standing in the cloud of dust he just left behind after taking off in his truck without a word to anyone and you know that isn’t the case.

“Here I was thinking I helped last night,” Lilly says under her breath.

You snap your head in her direction. “You talked to him?”

She shrugs. “I tried to.”

“Did he say why he’s been so upset?”

Lilly hesitates. And truthfully, you understand why. Everyone here was Tyler’s friend first. You were the last to join the crew– inducted into the group just by being Tyler’s girlfriend. They have no obligation to be loyal to you over Tyler.

“Forget it,” you say defeatedly, turning away as soon as you feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “It doesn’t even matter.” With that, you make your way towards the RV, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes trained on you the entire way.

…

Tyler drives to the nearest gas station, desperate for space to clear his head.

He knows he’s being dramatic and irrational at this point, but if he stayed at that rest stop another second, he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth. He really really had to get it together. But he can’t escape the fear inside of him– the one saying that meeting Henry helped you recognize that you could do so much better than him.

And now you had his phone number, to reach out whenever that realization hit.

Why wouldn’t you be interested in Henry? He’s got a goddamn master’s degree from Columbia, he writes articles for the Globe, works out every morning before they go chasing– apparently makes hilarious jokes…

Tyler rests his forehead against the steering wheel and groans.

…

Tyler’s gone for an hour. But when he finally parks the truck back at the rest stop, he hasn’t shaken the sinking feeling inside of him.

In a preemptive attempt to avoid questions he had snagged a bunch of snacks from the nearest gas station. If you ask where he’s been, he can just say he had a hankering for potato chips and call it good.

Except, you don’t even look at him when he gets out of the truck. Boone’s got corn hole set up in the dirt. It looks like Boone and Henry versus Dani and Dexter while you watch. He only watches for a moment before bringing the bag of snacks into the RV.

Secretly, Tyler’s been simultaneously excited for and dreading the end of the week. He’s excited for Henry to leave and excited to sleep in his own bed. But he’s dreading being back in your shared house. It’ll be the first time the two of you are forced to be alone, and he knows he’ll have to find the words to describe what he’s been feeling.

But apparently Tyler’s stupid, because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose you. And seeing you with Henry makes him feel like he’s about to lose you. Tyler doesn’t know how to say that to you without coming across as a total lunatic.

…

You don’t want to cause a scene at the rest stop. But the minute you see Tyler head for the RV, you’re out of your seat and beelining it towards him while the rest of the team is distracted.

As soon as you hoist open the door, you find him hunched over the fridge, grabbing a water bottle.

“What the hell?” is all you can manage to blurt out. You’re fuming and on the verge of tears. But you can’t help it– Tyler’s silent treatment has just about pushed you to the edge.

Tyler whips around at the sound of your entrance… and maybe it was a little dramatic– but you need to get your point across.

There’s a long pause while Tyler’s eyes study you.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

You’re met by more silence.

“This is ridiculous, Tyler. Will you just talk to me?”

Finally, Tyler scoffs, “The reporter gave you his number, right? Why don’t you talk to him? I’m sure he’d love to talk.”

In an instant, a wave of understanding washes over you. But it isn’t overshadowed by the anger you feel.

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous of Henry?”

He shuts the fridge before cracking open his water bottle dismissively, ignoring your questions.

“Tyler, are you forgetting that you’re the one who invited him with us this week? I mean, did you think he was just supposed to sit back and observe? He’s a reporter, of course he’s going to have questions… Questions that you were way more qualified to answer, but you were too busy being a jerk all week to answer any of them. So I did it for you–”

“I never asked for you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to– I did it for you!” you cry. “I did it so that he’d write you a good story– because you deserve that.”

“Oh, how convenient. So you two just get along so well for my sake then?” he says.

You exhale sharply. “Are you kidding me right now? We’ve spent the last week talking about you! I’ve been talking you up– telling him stories about what you do– how good you are at what you do– all the people you’ve helped–”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he scoffs.

You pause, anger slowly melting away at the realization that he genuinely didn’t believe anything you were saying.

“Tyler,” you say seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Henry. I’ve been answering his questions and telling him how fucking brave and generous and smart you are–”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps, voice cracking just slightly. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.” He sets his water bottle on the counter before moving to step by you.

“Tyler stop–” you say, reaching for him. But he’s too quick. He reaches the door before you’re able to stop him.

“Will you please stop walking away from me!” you blurt out frustratedly, tears forming in your eyes. “You’ve been running from me all week– I just… I just want to talk about this. Please–”

Tyler doesn’t turn to face you, but to your relief, he stops before opening the door.

“There is nothing happening between me and Henry, Tyler. I mean, I promise you, absolutely nothing– I… I don’t know how else to convince you. But there’s nothing going on. I’m not into Henry–”

“I know,” he says quickly, eyes squeezing shut.

You let your mouth fall open, confusion washing over you. “What?”

“I know there’s nothing happening between you and Henry– I trust you and I believe you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “So why are you so mad at me?”

Tyler pauses and bites his lip before saying, “I’m not mad at you–” he tries to explain. “I just… I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I don’t understand why–”

You sigh. “Tyler, you’re not making any sense–”

Tyler’s face twists in anguish. “Why aren’t you into him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s everything I’m not. And I mean– Seeing you with him– it just made me realize that you can do so much better than me,” Tyler says desperately, the pain almost palpable in his voice. “He’s got the fancy degree– he’s obviously smart–”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, because the idea of anyone ever being better than Tyler was even more ludicrous than him being jealous in the first place. “Tyler, you’re smart–”

“I didn’t go to Columbia. I didn’t even finish my first year of undergrad.”

“I don’t care about any of that– you know I don’t–”

“Why?” he blurts out harshly, finally turning to look at you. “Why do you even want me when you can have someone like him?”

Tyler didn’t think he was good enough for you– and that admission broke your fucking heart. In an instant, all the reasons you loved Tyler flow through your head. There’s so many, you can’t even keep up.

So instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note Henry had given you just hours earlier– the one Tyler apparently saw him give you. He watches as you unfold the piece of paper, quickly revealing that it’s not a phone number.

“It’s his mom’s cookie recipe,” you explain. “The ones you refused to try. I talked to him about how you have a sweet tooth, and I said how much you love chocolate chip cookies, so he wrote it down for me. I thought I might be able to make them for you when we got home. Because I love you– and I love doing things that will make you happy. Because that’s what you do for me– you make me happy. All the time, just by existing.”

You watch as the realization washes over him.

You sigh. “Did you ever stop and think about how I feel the same about you?”

He pauses before looking at you questioningly.

“I mean, you’re you,” you say, gesturing towards him. “People adore you, Tyler. And rightfully so– but I’m always worried you’ll find someone better. But I don’t get hung up on it, because I trust you. I trust that you mean it when you tell me you love me and you choose me. And I need you to do the same for me, Tyler. I need you to trust me. Because I love you– and I always will.”

Tyler exhales, his eyes watery.

“Can you do that?” you plead.

To your relief, after a moment, he nods.

You don’t hesitate before closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his middle. You lay your head on his chest just as his arms wind around your shoulders in an attempt to make up for all the hugs you’ve missed out on this week. Because as much as you love chasing in Oklahoma or Texas, your absolute favorite place to be is at home in his arms.

“Cookie recipe, huh?” he muses above you, chin resting on top of your heads.

You nod. “I’m a horrible baker, but I was going to give it a shot.”

Tyler tightens his grip around you. “Well horrible baker or not, I love you and I choose you.”

You let your eyes fall shut and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” you say honestly.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler owens x reader imagine #twisters imagine #twisters fanfic #twisters fic

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kryptonitejelly · 6 months ago

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draco malfoy x reader (female)

the one where Blaise notices the Malfoy signet ring on your finger.

send draco requests.

The air smells like a combination of Draco and yourself, but mostly Draco - notes of citrus overlaid with the scent of tea and smoky wood. His sheets are cool against the surface of your skin, a sensation which lends a sharp contrast to the warmth of his bare chest against your cheek. You can feel one of his hands tracing patterns onto the skin of your back, as he other hand fiddles absently with your fingers which you have splayed out across his chest, a lazy post-coital haze surrounding you both.

“Who knew the Draco Malfoy would be one for cuddling,” you say teasingly your fingers tugging lightly on the long slender digits which are still tangled with yours. This isn’t the first time you’ve been here, your naked form flush against Draco’s in the same bed in which he had you legs hooked over his shoulder, his name a litany on your lips just mere moments ago.

“I’m not,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes, as he manages to squeeze your fingers in his, a subtle battle for dominance among you both.

“Alright then,” you say both suddenly and with a calculated carelessness as you push your hands, fingers still tangled in his against his chest as you make a move to sit up. The covers slip easily down your skin with no clothes to act as friction. It exposes you, your nipples hardening upon contact with the cool air. You’e barely managed to get up when you feel the arm wrapped around you shift, fingers pressing more firmly into your hip to pull you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going,” Draco questions. He keeps his tone indifferent but the arm which has tightened around your body tells a different story.

“I’m sure Theo likes to cuddle,” you express matter of factly, keeping your expression innocent and it earns you an icy gaze from the blonde, cool grey boring in you. Draco observes you for almost a full minute before speaking.

“I’m sure he does not,” is what he finally says as a retort, his tone more disgruntled this time.

You open your mouth to disagree only to feel your back pressed flat into the mattress, Draco’s body now covering yours, his movements swift. You see the glint in his eyes as he lowers his head towards yours.

“Draco,” you breathe his name out. He doesn’t respond but presses his lips to yours. His hands find yours, fingers tangling together, pinning your hands above your head. You kiss him back, teeth nipping his lip lightly which earns your a low growl from the back of his throat. You can feel Draco hardening, his length pressed against your stomach. Your almost miss it with the competing sensations overtaking your body - lips, hands, skin, but your brain manages to register the feeling of Draco slipping cool metal from the signet ring on his last finger onto your index.

“Well, well, well - look who decided to join us,” Blaise calls out too cheerily, taking in the sight of you and Draco walking into the small sitting room in what had come to be Draco’s side of the Malfoy manor.

“It is surprising that I’m joining you in the sitting room of the Malfoy manor,” comes Draco’s reply which earns a good natured chortle from Theo and an eye roll from Pansy.

“Well, you can’t blame us for thinking that you two would be,” Blaise pauses for dramatic effect, “…otherwise occupied.” His unsaid words clear.

As with the rest, you and Draco had been childhood friends. However, years of tension that neither of you had acted upon had only cumulated more recently, and with Pansy’s blessing, into this, whatever it was. You both hadn’t yet spoken about it, the touching, sleepovers, sex, and there had been no outward proclamations to the world at large that either of you was anything other than single, and yet - it was no secret among anyone who knew either of you that you were both very unavailable.

“You mean book club?” You managed to keep a straight face as you question Blaise too innocently. It earns you a smirk from Draco and an amused chuckle from Pansy, your joke clear as you stop by the table facing the floor to ceiling windows which they are sitting by.

You reach across the table for a handful of blueberries from a bowl beside Theo’s elbow when you feel Blaise grab your wrist lightly, his fingers curling around, as he holds your wrist up in triumph, brandishing it around. You place your free hand flat down on the surface of the table, stabilising yourself as you lean forward into Blaise’s pull.

“I didn’t know book club members were all given the Malfoy signet ring,” he grins wildly at the discovery. The group’s gaze flickers to Draco’s hand, noticing the lack of the ring, usually a mainstay, on his the last finger of his left hand.

“If I join book club could I get one too?” Theo quips cheekily as you feel your cheeks start to heat both at your current plight as well as with recollection of what had been a subtle act of possessive on Draco’s part earlier.

“Zabini,” Draco says, tone still even as he reaches over, his hand curling around your forearm, tugging you out of Blaise’s grip, while ignoring Theo, “if she’s wearing the Malfoy signet ring don’t you think you should think twice before manhandling her?”

“Is she yours Draco,” Pansy adds to the chaos, an equally wide smirk on her face as Blaise lets your wrist slip out from his hold with ease while throwing you a wink.

“If you thought otherwise then you lot must be more dim than I thought ,” is all Draco says as he sits down. He lets you drop onto the chair beside him before reaching over to pull the piece of furniture and you closer to his side, the drag of it on the floor audible.

It earns him a whoop from Blaise, two hands thrown up in the air from Theo as he yells “finally”, and a laugh from Pansy who blows a kiss at you.

Draco slides his arm across the back of the chair, before looking at you brows lifted slightly, but his question is clear, you’ve never spoke about this and Draco wants to know - are you okay with this?

“I am,” you say as you lean forward to press your lips briefly against his. It only causes a louder ruckus at the table.

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hiiikiko · 2 months ago

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𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[1: spider-man’s more awkward than i thought..”]

spiderman!ellie x reader | tlou m.list

synopsis: ellie is in your biology class, she’s the quiet teachers assistant, who also happens to double as your agency’s part time photographer, but you notice that lately she’s been acting strange..

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You never really noticed her before, to you, she was just the nerdy TA and your agency’s assistant photographer but right now, you needed her to be your saviour. You were failing your biology class, a side effect of how many modelling gigs you’ve picked up to pay your tuition but what good was paying your tuition if you couldn’t even pass your classes? That’s how you ended up practically begging Ellie to tutor you.

“God, please, Williams,” you sighed, taking her hand in yours, “I’ll do anything! I’ll even pay you or I could speak to the agency—.”

“I-it’s fine, Y/l/n, I can do it,” she pried her hand out of yours and nodded, “Just put in a good word with your boss, yeah?”

You practically jump when she says that, “Oh thank you, thank you so much! Um, do you have my number?”

Ellie bashfully nods, “Uh, yeah, I have all the model’s numbers..”

You nod, “Okay, cool! Let’s meet at my place tonight, yeah? Maybe around 6? I’ll send you the location and the door code.”

Ellie straightens up, “Uhh.. can’t do six.. can we do it earlier? Maybe 4..?”

She looks a little nervous about asking, her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s staring into your eyes, anxiously waiting for your response, “Oh.. yeah that’s cool!”

With that, you go your separate ways.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

At your apartment, you prep it for your visitor, shoving your clothes into your laundry hamper, putting out some snacks, straightening up your ‘living room,’ it wasn’t really a living room, given that you lived in a small studio apartment, it was really just a corner of your apartment with a couch, rug, and coffee table. Come on, it was New York and you’re a college student! This is as good as it’ll get for now.

Just as you’re folding a blanket, you hear a thud against the glass door leading out to your balcony. Just as you’re about to take a step towards it to inspect it.. ding dong! You jump a bit, forgetting all about the peculiar sound and making your way towards your front door. Peaking through the peephole, you see Ellie, she’s awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, camera bag resting on her shoulder and her bangs messily in her face.

“Hey,” you smile and open the door to let her in, “Uh, make yourself at home.”

“T-thanks,” she nods, taking off her shoes and putting her bag down, “Nice place you got.. very, uh, homey. Oh, you a fan of Spider-man?” She nods at the Spider-Man poster on your wall and the Spider-Man t-shirt you’re wearing.

You giggle at her attempt at making small talk, “Thanks, can I get you anything? Water.. soda.. tea..? And, yeah, I know it’s kinda ‘fan girly’ of me but he’s just so fuckin’ cool, y’know? ”

“I’ll take a water,” she sits down on your couch, she looks really tired, not sleepy tired but she looks like she just fought Captain America.

“Shall we get started,” you place the glass in front of her and sit on the floor, the fluffy rug underneath aiding as a cushion, she nods and the two of you get to work.

The first few tutoring sessions went just like that, they were stiff and awkward but eventually, you realized that Ellis isn’t just a nerd that occasionally takes your pictures, she’s also really funny and is actually a really good teacher, she’s patient but doesn’t treat you like you’re dumb. She talks you through the formulas and makes sure you understand each chapter by quizzing you. She’s actually not awkward about this after all, she seems confident when she’s talking about cells. Watching her is nice, her eyes light up when she gets to a chapter that she is obviously interested in and a small smile falters on her lips. You never really realized it before but not only is she really smart, she’s also REALLY hot. Like, the way her veiny arms l flex when she reaches over for her glass of water, the veins flexing under her tattoo, the way she gazes at you through her eyelashes, and her smirk when she gently teases you for getting a problem wrong.

On one particular tutoring session, the rain pattered heavy against the thin glass on your balcony doors, creating a serene, almost cozy atmosphere. You and Ellie were sitting close together on the floor, a thick textbook resting on the coffee table in front of you, you could feel her breath against your neck and her voice was deep and raspy, almost like she’d been out in the rain earlier, and—

“Hey, you with me?” Ellie waves a hand in front of your face, “Hm, maybe we should stop here for now, yeah? It’s getting la— shit, it’s 7?!”

Your expression fell at the thought of her leaving, so you thought ‘fuck it’ as you decided to try and get her to ‘sleep over.’

Ellie scrambled to get on her feet, grabbing her bag and putting her battered converse on, “Oh, you’re leaving? But it’s pouring out there, wanna spend the night?” You graze her arm with your hand, you know it’s wrong to wanna sleep with your TA and your coworker but.. it had been so long since you got any.. and shit, how could you stop yourself now? You could feel her lean muscles underneath her baggy jacket.. you had no idea she even worked out.

Ellie’s eyes flicker to your hand, almost like she was considering it, “S-sorry.. I really gotta go, see ya Friday, yeah?”

And before you could say anything else to try and convince her to stay, she was out the door and you could hear her footsteps echoing down the stairwell.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“The nerve that girl has!” You throw your hands up, “She didn’t even consider it.. I mean, look at me! An up and coming model offers you the night of her life, you say yes!”

Your friends nod in agreement, “I just don—.” Just as you’re about to make another comment, you see Ellie come into the lecture hall, a band-aid on her eyebrow, ouch. What in the world could have happened between 7 p.m. and this morning?

Your friends turn to see what’s got your tongue, then one of them speaks up, “Haven’t you heard? She is always getting weird scratches.. a guy in my last class said that she tends to get in a lot of fights, crazy, right?”

Ellie gets into fights? You scoff at the idea, no way, she’s the most gentle person you know, you can barely feel her touch when she adjusts your hair during shoots, besides she’s way too awkward, you can imagine her trying to talk herself out of a beating, no way. Right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

During that night’s tutoring session, you ask her about the bandaid, “Oh,” her hand darts to her forehead, “This? I, uh, got it when I fell off my skateboard..”

Convincing enough, right? But the tone in which she said it betrayed her statement, damn, she was a shitty liar.

“Hm,” you hum, still not completely convinced.

Ellie’s eyes rest on yours for a moment before going back to this week’s chapter. Usually, you could focus pretty well but right now all you wanted was to ask her more about the cut, right as you’re about to bug her again, she interrupts you with a question of her own. “Hey, uh, are you booked for that shoot on Sunday?”

You can tell she’s trying her best to act as nonchalant as possible but the way she’s nervously tapping her pencil against the textbook, the way her teeth gently bite her soft pink lips, and the way her eyes look like a deer caught in headlights betray her rather calm tone.

“Yeah, didn’t Regina tell you? She booked me a few weeks ago, something about how they want a ‘fresh young face’ or whatever,” you on the other hand, have mastered the art of being nonchalant, your voice calm and your eyes never leaving the paper of your textbook.

“R-really?” Ellie looks like a puppy who’s owner just shook a bag of treats before forgetting she’s supposed to be feign the whole ‘mysterious loner’ shtick, “I mean, uh, cool, cool. I’m gonna be there too, so, uh.. yeah.”

“Mhm,” the rest of the night carries on like nothing happened, Ellie continues teaching and you continue ‘listening,’ which was a little hard because your eyes kept drifting to her eyebrows again.

There’s something about her that you just don’t get.. if those rumours are true, which you highly doubt because look at her, she’s smiling while talking about RNA… be so for real right now, there’s no way BUT if it is true, why is she so gentle? Sure, she’s clumsy but her personality, she’s not hostile, hell, she blushes whenever you graze her hand. You know how the rumour mill works and it doesn’t just churn out baseless rumours, most have some kind of truth to them, so, how did someone make one about Ellie being so violent, you wonder.

“Uh, Y/n?” Ellie’s eyes move towards the balcony doors, “Can you, uh, please stop staring? You’re making me nervous..”

Your face erupts in a blush, the sweet red colour creeping up your neck, coating your ears, and finally, sweeping over your face, “S-sorry, just spaced out.. haven’t been getting much sleep, you know?”

Ellie nods, “Yeah.. I get it.. neighbours arguing a lot ‘nd stuff, right?”

You nod before realizing, “I never told you that.”

Ellie lets out a forced chuckle, “Uh, you did! Well, you didn’t tell me directly, just heard you say it… God, please believe me, I’m not stalking you, I just heard you say in passing, I swe—. Um. I should go, it’s getting late..”

“Huh, it’s only 6..?” You stand up with her, hoping she doesn’t leave so soon.

“Sorry, but I really should—?”

You grab onto her bulky jacket, tugging on the sleeve a bit, causing it to slip down her shoulder a bit and reveal her shirt underneath, huh, it looked like…

“Hey,” she blurts out and straightens out her jacket, “Wh—?”

“Oh my god, is that a spider-man tshirt?” You jump up, a smile creeping onto your face.

Ellie is washed with relief, “Uh, yeah! Gotta love the, uh, the guy, right?”

Nodding you say, “Totally! You should’ve said something sooner, I’m like his biggest fan, I even have an, allegedly, signed poster of him!”

Ellie’s ears burn bright, “R-really? Can I see it?”

You scramble to your room and pull out a small signed flyer, “See?”

Ellie gently holds it then she snorts and mutters, “Yeah, that’s not real.”

Your expression falters, “Wh-what? As if you’d know,” you pull it from her grip, your pride hurt and internally kicking yourself for spending so much on what could be a damn knock off.

“Oh, I think I’d know a thing or two about ‘Spider-Man’,” she chuckles.

“What does that mean,” you shoot her a glare.

“Oh, nothing.. I just, uh, met him” Ellie is scrambling for any way to cover up her loud mouth.

“No way, really?!” You jump up.

“Y-yeah, a few times actually.. back in my first year of college, he let me take some pictures of him a few times for the paper.”

You squeal and begin to bombard her with questions, “What was he like? Is he tall? How does he sound? Wh—?”

Ellie is patient with you and answers all of your questions, stretching she takes a look at the clock and jumps up, “Fuck, I really should get going, it’s rainy and the parade is tomorrow and that means more cr —.”

“More, what?”

“Uh, more cramped subways!” (Ellie is internally patting herself on the back for coming up with a word that begins with ‘cr’ instead of saying criminals.)

“Oh, alright.. see ya.”

Ellie is out the door quicker than you could say ‘your friendly neighborhood spider-man.’

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s the day of the parade and everyone’s spirits are high. Today, everyone is celebrating the election of the new city mayor. There will be a parade, drone show, and a market. Even you’re excited. You and your friends are making your way through the crowded streets when you bump into Abby, your ex. She must be here for her family, Abby’s family was widely renowned. Her dad isn’t just a highly esteemed surgeon, he’s also CEO of Oscorp and has very close ties to the city officials. You don’t really want any drama, so you pass by without giving as much as a nod.

“Hey, Y/n,” you hear through the crowds, a groan leaving your lips before looking up and meeting green eyes instead of blue ones.

“Ellie! What’re you doing here? I thought you would hate this kinda stuff.’

She holds up her camera, “Just takin’ photos, the Daily Bugle needs some front page stuff and they assigned it to me.”

“Oh, very cool,” you smile, “S—,” Just as you’re about to ask her if she wants to check out the stands with you, you feel a hand grip your shoulder, it’s Abby, fuck.

“Hey, Y/n, long time, huh? Wanna come see my dad, he’s been asking about you, oh, so has Manny.” Before you could reject her, Ellie is already walking away and Abby is steering you to the city hall building.

Abby drones on and on about her latest lacrosse victories and about her latest conquests, you just nod and try to space out. Normally, you wouldn’t go with her but you so desperately wanted to meet with her father. Being in premed meant you need as many connections as possible, so you were hoping Mr. Anderson could give you some pointers.

As the two of you round a corner you feel a rumble then hear a boom.

“What the fuck was that,” Abby stops and runs up the stairs, your feet are frozen in place but you quickly pull them from their cemented state and chase after her, “Abby, stop! It’s too dang—!”

Then came the second boom and suddenly, you felt the ground beneath you crumbling, fuck, this is it, isn’t it? Just as you’re about to accept your fate, you feel hands grip your waist and you’re flying..?

Through the dust, you can make out a red and blue silhouette. “I-it’s you!’

The masked figure looks at you, “Yeah.. i-it’s me.”

Uh, Spider-Man is a lot more awkward than you thought..

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portgasdwrld · 1 year ago

Text

📂Op men + them being needy

Featuring: monster trio

Warning: Suggestive, NSFW, fem!reader, established relationship, english isn’t my first language

Important: Pls read my navigation before sending/commenting asks. I would love to do them, but some of y’all don’t spend two seconds trynna make sure ur ask is fine with me first 🫶🏻

Note: Y’all voted for that one and ngl i wanted to write this one, so we all share the same slutty mind. Also thank you for 100 followers 🫶🏻lm super glad that y’all are enjoying my writing💕 This took sm more time than I thought it would. Ima make a separate one for Ace whenever I have time 😭

Luffy

Luffy was laying down on his bed as you were not too far from him trying out some make up in the mirror facing his bed. He had insisted to nap with you next to him, so he had his long arm stretched around your waist lazily as you were dolling yourself up.

You hear him stir awake from his sleep as he groans and yawns loudly.

-What time is it?

He drags in a sleepy tone as he rolls to the side still covered by the sheets.

-Mmm, you only slept for an hour. You can go back to sleep baby.

You answer him as you take a quick look at your watch. You knew how he loves to sleep after he ate and especially if there isn’t much to do.

-It’s hard when you aren’t laying down next to me, I like to hug you close to mee.

He whines a little. You see him rub his eyes and softly sit between his messy sheets through the reflection of your mirror.

-I’m sorry baby, I will come later when I’m done, okay ?

You say softly as you apply a new colour of your eyeshadow palette on your eyelid. He gets closer to you, now sitting not too far behind you. His pretty dark eyes shift between your products and your face.

- What’s this, it shines~

He asks curious while pointing at your highlighter. You chuckle and open it to swipe some on the tip of your finger. You thought it would be a fun time to mess a little with him, so you swap some on top of your boob to show him. You smirk and point at your breast, showing him that it make your skin shine, when applied.

-it’s to make your skin shine, you simplify it to him.

His eyes looks down and stare at your chest. His arms unwrap from your body and with his finger he touches your skin to see if it stains his finger too and it does a little.

-Waaaw, amazing! That’s so cool

You nod with a smile and a comfortable silence falls between you two. He watches you apply your eyeshadow using multiple techniques. He let his chin rest on your shoulder and his expression gets a bit serious. He stares at you through the mirror.

-Y/n ?

-Mmm?

-I’m hard, let’s fuck.

You choke a little at his sudden straightforwardness. You take few seconds to take in what he just said, before throwing a look behind your shoulder to stare at your suddenly needy boyfriend.

-Luffy… just how ?

You ask defeated. He has the habit to get hard so randomly, not that you complained because sex with him was always more than satisfying. Though, It was just somewhat inconvenient when you were already doing something.

-I can just jerk off while you finish off, he propose seeing your unsure expression. The way he said that was so laid back that it made you giggle a little. Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you??You smile fondly at him, but letting him do that would be more torture than anything else.

-Or you can cockwarm me while you finish off like we did last time.

The “last time” he was referring to, ended by you two fucking with your undone hair. You shake your head, you couldn’t say no to him. It was always tempting to have him inside of you.

He kisses the crook of your neck, dragging your name in a groan taunting you to give him an answer.

-I like the last idea more, you finally reply with a shy smile. You gaze at him through the mirror and you see him grin.

-Alright !

You stand up to throw away your panty on his bed as he stroke his dick few times before you sat on it. You both left a moan as the contact was made. You were never used at the deepness he could reach. Your legs weakly fixed your position on his laps.

-Is it okay ?

He asks making sure you were comfortable. You nod as you gaze back at him. He pecks your cheek, his brown hair slightly tickling you, before leaning his body back, now supported by his arms. The view you have is just so delicious, you are about to give up any plans your had on finishing your make up.

-Luffy, you are making this so hard for me I swear.

You let out shakily under your breath, because he clearly couldn’t stay completely still.

He laughs as he approaches his body to yours, his warm breath brushing on your neck, his eyes looks at you with excitement.

-Can I play with your boobs ?

-Luffy…

You whine almost pleading him to be kind to you and let you do your make up without so much distraction. No way you are going to hold back with him touching you like that.

-Pleaseee

-Ugh… fuck it.

I need to write a whole mirror fucking fic with him now🧎🏻‍♀️

Zoro

Zoro is going out of his mind. His usual cool and collected image is crumbling every time he breaths. His eye stare at your figure with a burning gaze. He wants you so badly right now, but it was lowkey hurting his ego to tell you directly how he felt (he’s in fact too shy, but he would never admit that to himself.)

You definitely noticed his behaviour during the day, when he let his hand rest a little too long on your ass when you hugged him or when he kept taking glances at your boobs peeking from the low cut of your shirt.

You didn’t want to give it to him so easily without him openly saying that he wanted you. It was no fun otherwise. So you teased him all day, acting all clueless to his advances. It was until he snapped and pulled you into his room late in the afternoon.

-You have been so fucking annoying all day. You really enjoy acting all dumb when you want to.

-I dont know what you are talking about?

You reply with an innocent stare as you unconsciously bite your lips quickly and look up to him. He groans as he climbs on top of you on the bed, his large and strong body towering you was already enough to make your head dizzy. He leans his face few inches in front of yours. Your nose filled up with the scent of his cologne.

-You want to keep playing this ?

- Admit it.

-Admit what ?

He gulps with furrowed eyebrows. You smirk and wrap your arms around his neck. You pull the green haired man closer teasing the proximity of your lips to his.

-Admit that you want me.

You whisper with the same smile glued to your lips. Zoro eye slightly widen but he presses his lips on yours without adding another word, but you are fast to push him away by pressing upward your hands on his chest.

-Come on, baby~ You can’t even admit something so little ?

You pout as you knew his competitive ass wouldn’t take it and he would eventually get frustrated, and maybe give up.

-I will treat you so well if you do, I just need to hear it~

You continue hoping it would cheer your shy boyfriend to speak the words. You know he’s not the best with expressing his emotions, but god it felt good to see him all tensed because he wanted to fuck you so badly. You travel your fingers up his neck, brushing fading hickeys you left on him few days ago.

You see him sigh as he straightens his upper body. You give him a confused look for a moment, but it disappears when his lips curve into his familiar smirk.

He let his body fall next to you and you feel his strong arm slide under your waist. He pulls you against him and with his other arms, he props your body on top of his. You sit not too far from his hips area. He places his hands on each side of your hips and he gives a light spank on your ass earning a small surprised moan from you.

-What are you doing? I thought I was clear babe.

You say while crossing your arms under your chest. He chuckles and push your hips on top of his bulge. You could feel he was starting to get hard.

-I want you, so be good now and ride me.

You smile happy to hear it finally from him, but he still found a way to make it an order, so it earned a small giggle from you.

-What’s funny?

-Nothing. I said I will treat you right, so let me take care of you.

You said while going down on him. You pulled down his pants to reveal his half hard dick. You took it in your hand and with your thumb you spread the precum all over his tip while giving it few strokes with your other hand. You give few licks to tease him a little, but you shortly after wrap your plump lips around his cock. He hiss as his fingers brush away the hair in front of your eyes that was blocking his view.

-Fuck, just like that

He groans as he places his hand on top of your head trying to make you take more of his length. You let him do as he wishes, as you wanted tonight to be focused on him. He pushes his cock until it was deep enough into your throat that it was painfully hitting the back of it. Tears were starting to form into your eyes as you look up at him. He leaves a low moan and let his head fall behind as he give a lazy thrust into your mouth. He let go of your head not trying to hurt you and you take that chance to remove it from your mouth and breath.

-Shit, you’re so big

You pant with a heavy breath as you stroke his dick up and down using your spit. He smirk at your compliment and you don’t let him reply as you dive his cock into your mouth once again, sucking harshly getting a loud groan out of his mouth.

You torture his dick like this for few minutes as you take him deeply into your throat and suck harshly on his dick by also teasing his slit with your tongue. He was a moaning mess and honestly it’s been a while since you saw him so vocal about the pleasure he was feeling, that it was soaking your panties.

You stroke him with both of your hands as your mouth was sucking his tip and with the help of few thrust, he came into your mouth. You swallowed everything with a funny face and flashed your tongue at him so he could see. You then removed your shorts and panties along with your top, leaving you naked on top of him.

-I should let you suck me off like this more often.

-Yeah, well if I didn’t have to beg all the time to have your cock, I would suck you even upside down.

You retort as you position yourself on top of his dick, ready to slide him in you. Zoro roll his eye at your comment, but he grabs your thighs tightly, anticipating the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

You chuckle seeing him waiting for you to put it inside of you, in silence. You lean and give him a peck on his forehead with a soft smile. Your boyfriends cheeks blushed as he gives you a bit of a “wtf” stare.

-So eager, are we baby?

Sanji

Sanji was smoking outside as his body was leaning against the railing of the ship. His fluffy blond hair brushed by the cold breeze of the early night. His gaze seems lost in a trail of thoughts that only him will know about. You smile to yourself when you finally find your boyfriend.

« It’s a cold night, but lucky me I have someone to cuddle to keep me warm » you say, startling him a little.

He smiles as he recognizes your voice immediately. Sanji doesn’t hide the way his eyes enjoy savouring the view of your body in this little black silk dress. It was his favourite. The dress is so short that he could just bend you over the rail and he would not only have a great view of your pussy, but he could also easily take you there.

Why was it so easy for you to drive him crazy ? Just you being such an effortlessly beautiful women was enough to make his thoughts foggy. It wasn’t too fair for his heart and his dick.

-You are going to catch a cold, my love. Come here.

He finally replies while opening his arms. You rush a little into his embrace, loving the way his body’s warmth and the mix of his cologne and the cigarette’s smog fill your nose and senses. He presses his body against yours and you let the back of your head rest on his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders after throwing his cigarette in the ocean.

-How did you find tonight’s dinner, chérie?

-It was delicious as always darling.

You whisper enjoying the tranquility on the boat for once. Sanji hums in response as he let his hairy chin slightly tickle your neck. His lips brush your ear as his warm breath tickles your neck.

-You know you make me a mad man when you wear this.

-Do I?

You answer with a chuckle honestly forgetting how your boyfriend had a particular liking in this night dress. He loves everything you wear anyways so for you it didn’t change much, but as he presses his dick on your lower back, you kinda get what he’s leading to.

You feel his lips move to your neck where he presses them, where he sucks and bites your skin, leaving proof of his love on it.

-I wouldn’t mind dessert at this hour

He mumbles as his arms find a rest now on your breast. He presses his hips closer to your body and you do him the grace of slightly grinding your ass against his bulge.

-What do you mean?

You ask him playing dumb. It was so fun to tease Sanji. He was always so enthusiastic whenever something concerned you.

-I want to fuck you, darling

He continues as his unwrap your body from his arms. His fingers slide down your waist to tease the hem of your short dress. He let them wonder beneath it, feeling the softness of your ass. A gasp left your mouth when his cold fingers press against your clothed core.

-I could just bend you over this rail and fuck you so good, hmm?

He pushes his digits under your panty and let his fingers get coated of your juices before letting them slide upward where he pinches your clit. A moan leaves your throat loudly and you quickly bite your lips to stop any more sounds to come out.

You two could honestly get caught at any moment that someone decides to exit their room, but the thought itself made you even more wet.

-S-sanji, we could get caught..

-I know, but I can’t help myself when you look this good. I want you so badly that I don’t care about the rest.

He retorts with a heavy sigh as he continues to play with clit. He then opt to dive one of his long fingers inside of you, catching you off guard. You try your best to keep any sounds in, but he was making it so hard for you when he was moving so fast.

-Fuck, Sanji. Please fuck me.

You whine as your body naturally leans on the rail. Sanji other hand pushes your lower back to create a curve that earn a groan from his mouth.

Your boyfriend closes the distance pushing now a second finger deeper inside of you. His pace is fast and precise, trying his best to listen to the way your body react to the spot he touches inside of you. Sanji does still keep an eye out in case someone catches you two though..

Hitting all the right spots and playing with your clits with his other hand, you feel your climax approaching. With a last thrust of his finger and some dirty word whispered, you cum all over his fingers, staining his black pants a little.

-You’re insane..

You let out as you try to catch your breath. He smirks and give you a back hug, leaving plenty of kisses on your necks and collarbone.

-let’s go back to our room, so you take care of me~

#one piece #one piece zoro #zoro headcanons #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece smut #vinsmoke sanji #sanji smut #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanjionepiece #zoro smut #one piece luffy #luffy one piece #luffy x y/n #luffy x reader #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy

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swordsandholly · 8 months ago

Text

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

1K notes · View notes

lustlovehart · 25 days ago

Text

Soft Clipped Feathers

A/n: Really Self-Indulgent for Sundays realese today.

Pairing: Sunday x Reader

Summary: You’ve grown tired of staying in the hidden nest that is Sundays arms, yet you can’t bring yourself to really leave that comfort. So, you do the only thing that can alleviate this want, use Sundays infatuation for yourself. (1.3k words)

Warnings: [Yandere], Possesion, Manipulation, Implied NSFW & Suggestive, Reader lowkey plays with Sunday (And it backfires LMAO), Themes of codependency, Sunday and Reader get filthy? Very unholy you two, Tiny (Big) obsession from Sunday, Uhm they make out on the floor?? Idk if that needs a tag

There’s a certain petulance in the room you sit in. Stained windows filled with colorful sectors, unify into a beautiful image of a Dove… falling victim to the hunter who sang false truths in its flight of freedom.

“You’ve been staring at the window for quite some time.” The man who claims himself to be the representation of the holiest of days, speaks into the once-relaxing silence of the room. He displays himself as a savior, yet you know better than to trust hunters, they’ve always believed their prey to be the lone sustenance for their fortune. “It’s lovely isn’t it?”

“Not really. I just don’t feel like looking at a man flaunting his feathers.”

“You liked when that IPC worker did. Did you not?” Sunday takes a step closer, to the wooden bench you rest on, his gloved hand caressing your skin. He traces up your arm, thumb ghosting your lips, bestowing a gentle tap on your mouth. It’s akin to a kiss really, if you could count it.

It doesn’t matter though, you’ve kissed plenty of times, and it makes no difference whether you do it with or without clothes. Though, the remembrance makes you shudder. Fingers dancing on your skin, blankets surrounding your intertwined bodies. A romantic scene really, if it weren’t for the fact you imagined the cool cruel silver, to be a chilling night in penacony.

“No, that was just jealousy blinding you, Sunday.” The man pulls away, his wings fluttering ever so slightly.

“Jealousy is the trait of men with no virtues, inharmonious men.” He speaks the word inharmonious, like treason.

“Well, it seems this room is filled with impropriety then hm?” You lean further into the mahogany, hoping somehow, someway, the wood will take liquid form and drown you. Yet you know it won’t. A trio of buttons undo on your blouse from the action, Sunday watching with great intent.

A majority of your chest is now on full display, to Sunday and each piece of art in the room. The eyes in the stained glass, those sculpted pupils of those statues, yet the only gaze you feel is his. Halovian eyes dilate at the sight, he’s quick to look into your eyes when you notice his entrance.

The garment was far too tight on you, but you had no urge to change out of it. Perhaps an unconscious act of rebellion to Sundays put together attire, perfectly fitting his form.

“Your clothes are astray.” He points out the detail as if you didn’t know. You don’t have the chance to reply before you feel Sunday nudge his way into your spot on the bench, towering over you as gloved fingers quickly work to redo the buttons. “Still, it would be dishonorable, for you, if someone saw you this way.” He emphasizes the ‘for you’ as if you cared.

You clasp your hands around his, effectively pausing his movements. He inhales when you pull him down, wind rushing through his hair. This adrenaline is further ensued, when the only thing stopping him from touching bare skin, is the cloth he’s attempting to redo.

In truth, this is the only way you feel to have any control of your fate. His affections for you are wide, yet narrow too. Wide in a way you can feel yourself drown in this so-called adoration, but narrow to a point you could never fully move through it. The rare moments you have with him, where you have him in a cage, is when you entangle him in the love he sought from you so deeply.

Though, this cage will always be unlocked for a free bird like him. But for you, you’ll forever be doomed to roam on the floor, those soft feathers of yours, clipped to never breathe air again.

“If someone saw us like this, that would only solidify what you want.” Your voice is low, warm air blowing on Sunday's neck. His knee is placed between your legs, his elbow being the sole pillar from his ravish on your being. His eyes trail between your eyes and your lips, those golden optics widening when you suddenly lean up.

Now you’re truly testing a man of virtue. A dangerous endeavor indeed.

“What do you plan to do?” His question doesn’t match the look in his eyes, you should know, his eyes are centimeters from yours, and so are your lips. The wings from his head flutter down, gentle feathers caressing your skin; successfully covering the visage of your surroundings.

All that’s left to see is Sunday.

“Do you plan to do this, and go to sleep satisfied at testing my countenance?” You don’t answer him, yet again, he didn’t want a reply. “Or will you finally change your ways? As you’ve promised at confessional time and time again.”

Oh, he knew that was you?

“Sunday—” you’re cut short when a kiss is delegated on your temple, any retort dying immediately at his placating.

“It’s okay, I’ll forgive you,” His arm falls to brush your cheek, the leather from his glove squeaking at the movement. “As long as you listen.” he stops talking after the final sentence, only softly gazing into your eyes. It’s uncomfortable, and piercing. It’s a strikingly familiar gaze to that of a husband, which Sunday is anything but.

“You…” Your words are strained, it’s a pain to face the reality you willingly put yourself into with him. “Sunday…” You grit your teeth, roughly pushing Sunday to the marble floor, bodies falling in unison.

Once again, you’re left in the only position you feel comfortable, making Sunday fall victim to your charms. At this point. Your shirt has already fallen down your shoulder, and your back is on cold flooring.

You take a deep breath in, before enacting your act of rebellion to this so-called man of virtue. You shall strip this room of its purity. But, to be transparent…

There’s no purity left in this room, for it’s not a beautiful art gallery of glass and statues. It’s the home you’ve always lived in. It’s the cruelest joke of all, you have the freedom to go where you wish, but you don’t, you stay.

“This world isn’t kind,” Sunday kisses your palm as he lays his head on your chest, the soft beating of your heart turning his own. “Wait until I’ve made it so.” You’re not sure what he means, but you nod… at the time.

Maybe it’s because of his words, or maybe simply fear for the unkind world he speaks of. Sometimes, you wish for a reality where you step into this cruel world, only then do hatchlings grow strength in their wings.

Now though, wings that have been clipped, have no chance of regaining that opportunity.

In one motion, you take his handsome face into your palms, pulling him roughly to your lips, his own hands finding refuge on your waist, pulling you down into him. It’s filthy and self-indulgent, but all you can do.

When you disconnect to breathe, a trail of saliva connects your lips, a reminder of the everbinding hold he has on you. If you think positively, it could also refer to how deep this infatuation with you, has implemented itself into Sunday's core.

Maybe the simple sight of you, reminds Sunday what it is he strives to do in reality, create a sanctuary of peace. Not you though, he’s the only one allowed to feel your comfort.

You dive back in, ready to drown in the essence that is harmony, through his lips.

…

You wake up to the colorful sight of stained glass, the same sight of a Dove and a hunter invading your pupils. There’s something different though.

There’s a hole in place of the Dove's heart, the window shattered, but only in that sole spot.

The blanket draped over you slides off as you leave the marble platform, but you’re stopped when a firm forearm wraps around your waist, effectively pulling you back. You look back at the perpetrator with a glare.

“Sunday, you’re a man of manners, you’ll be late for… whatever you have going on today.” it’s a pathetic attempt to get him off. Of course it doesn’t work.

“You’re right, but I won’t be late.” you continue to stare at the image, only vaguely listening to Sunday's words.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?" Considering it’s only the morning after…. what you’ve done, your urge to be spiteful isn’t as strong as yesterdays. You wish that wasn’t so.

“You’re coming with me.” He says it so softly, it doesn’t register completely in your mind. But when it does, you wonder if the dove was attempting to warn you.

“You’re… Making me leave…?” You turn around, facing the man that continues to lay next to you.

“No, I’m making you stay, with me.”

…

It seems you’re no longer a bird with freedom to walk anywhere you want anymore either. You’re left flightless, and freedomless.

But…

“I see…” You don’t fight, not like he expected you to do. Not like… you expected to do so either. You lie back down, burying yourself into the blanket with him, burying yourself into Sunday. His arms surround you in a warm embrace.

Maybe it’s your own fault for flying into this hunters trap, with your own free will.

Hahaha, please come him with my 0 pity and 80 pulls Mr.Sunday :). Alsooo, I hope this is good, because, confession… I haven’t finished the penacony quest, only the first one 😬

#vesperwrites #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yan hsr

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