#ohhh stunning piece

[jinxificada]

stress to relieve, need to fulfill.

jinx x fem!reader

summary: what’s there to do when your friend keeps pushing your boundaries after a long, tiring week? only wrong answers.

notes: nsfw, modern au. jinx and reader smokes both nicotine and weed. stoner reader. high sex. u know mee, self indulgent asf. if you see first person pronouns, no you didn’t. 2,8k wc.

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

you see her leaning against the railing, shoulders pushed behind and back straight, smiling smugly and flirty as her head tilted to the side.

isn’t she stunning? breathtaking?

but all that attitude was directed to ekko, who had her almost trapped as both of his hands also rested on the railing, each one next to her waist.

“jinx, hurry!” you groaned from your spot on the sidewalk, throwing your head back in annoyance. you had finished your cigarette two minutes ago, growing impatient by the second.

the wind brushes against her hair and she tucks a piece behind her ear. god, the way ekko’s body towers over hers makes you want to be sick. it's a disgusting feeling, seeing her flirting so easily.

"I'm comiiiiing!" she calls out in annoyance, ekko lets out a light chuckled as she brushes past him with a playful roll of her eyes. she always knows how to make those boys crazy. "jesus, did I take that long? you’re so impatient." she teased, stopping right in front of you and resting a hand on her hip.

you rolled your eyes, lighting another cigarette. “yes, i wanna get home already.”

"geez, impatient and bitchy today." she muttered under her breath, smirking as you both started to walk, she kept in stride beside you, occasionally bumping your shoulders together. she could see the agitation in your eyes, even as you refused to look at her. It was honestly comical.

you were looking forward to today for two weeks now. finals were done, you had only another week of pointless classes before graduating and leaving this shitty town behind. the smoke session was very much needed, and luckily you had the house all to yourself.

"don’t worry." she teased after a moment. "no more ekko attention. i’m all yours today, you needy baby." she pinched your cheek, causing you to gently slap her hand away, huffing at her mocking. “i swear to god— i’ve had a stressful week, jinx, i don’t know where you get all that energy from.” you mumbled, handing her the cig. "stressful week, or you just need to get laid?" jinx joked, her eyes sparkled in a playful mischief as she took the cigarette and raised it to her lips, taking a short puff before exhaling the smoke through her lips.

she was clearly enjoying her teasing, and your grumpy face only encouraged her. "ohhh, your poor baby." she stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “knock it off,” you muttered, though you wrapped an arm around her shoulders as you grab the cig back, taking a long drag.

jinx chuckled, clearly pleased with herself as she leaned into you. the cigarette continued to pass between you, her body was soft against yours.

"you are adorable when you're all grumpy and pouty." she teased, running her other hand through your hair. she turned her head slightly to the side and nipped at your earlobe, an amused huff escaping her lips, her breath against your ear was driving me insane. “i want to see how far this pouty mood goes." she whispered before pressing a kiss just below your ear.

“jinx—“ you gasped, trying to hide your blush. “we’re passing by a playground.”

"and?" she laughed, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. she feigned an innocent pout, her bottom lip slightly jutting out. "no one is around. we’re the only ones walking."

you look down at her mouth, your own watering at the thought of nibbling her pouty lip. would she yelp? sigh? would she flinch away or kiss you back?

you and jinx were friends, strictly. for years now. she was flirty, always pushing boundaries but then she would play dumb, as if leading people on was her favorite hobby. and you had a big fat crush on her. that’s why you didn’t want to risk it.

so you ended up pinching her nose and continuing walking, finishing the cigarette.

she let out a small squeak, a pout returning to her lips. she gently punched your shoulder in retaliation before sticking out her tongue. “mean." she teased, her arm still wrapped around your waist as you continued to walk. "you’re no fun today."

“i’ll let you choose the movie.” you say as if to apologize, pulling her into that side hug you were locked in previously.

soon enough you reach to your house, she settles on the couch and scrolls through the streaming services to find something to watch as you get the snacks you bought days before, quickly going back to bump your hips against hers to make space for you to sit down.

she smirked at the pile of snacks you had set down on the coffee table. "geez, you really went all out for our movie night, didn't you?"

you shrugged, a small smile appearing on your face. you weren’t about to admit that you picked out her favorites purposefully. “mhm… did you choose something yet?”

jinx looked down from the screen and watched as you began to roll the blunt, the sight bringing a smirk to her face. "hmm, not yet," she said. "nothing looks interesting enough."

“don’t be picky, we’ll be way too out of it to care about it.” you chuckled. "you’re right, the plot won't even make sense to us anyway." she huffed a chuckle.

her eyes tracing the movements of your hands, continuing to watch you finish rolling the blunt, "hurry upppp," she whined, poking your thigh impatiently. "i wanna get high already."

a small chuckle left your mouth, amused by her eagerness. “here,” you hand her the blunt and light it up for her. "finally…" she groaned happily, bringing the joint to her lips and taking a deep inhale.

holding the smoke in her lungs for a few moments, she exhaled slowly before turning to smirk at me.

"your turn, slowpoke.”

"I was taking my time, you impatient brat." you brought the joint to your lips and inhaled a deep puff, the taste of herbs filling your mouth, you felt your entire body release tension already.

you exhaled slowly, the familiar feeling of relaxation settling in your bones. as you passed the joint back to her, your eyes flicked toward jinx, who was already looking at you, eyes already a little dazed, her smirk was lazy and her cheeks a hint of pink as the weed started to cloud your minds.

"you look wrecked already.” you teased, poking her shoulder. she let out a small huff and rolled her eyes before taking another deep drag of the blunt.

"says the one who practically moans every time they get high."

your face flushed with embarrassment at her words. "I do not moan every time." you protested, although you couldn't keep the chuckle out of your voice. jinx let out a scoff, amused by your denial. "please, i’ve seen you high enough times to know you're a total needy whiner when stoned." she teased, taking another drag of the joint as her eyes scanned up and down your body.

her gaze felt like a physical touch, you were growing warmer as you forced yourself to look away. "I am not a needy whiner when stoned."

half an hour later the weed had fully settled into your systems. you barely paid attention to the movie playing, the only thing on your mind was her body pressed against yours, the warmth of it making you want to melt against her.

she was leaning into you, her head resting on your shoulder as she laughed at the crappy jokes, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on you.

you felt dizzy, shifting to nuzzle your nose into the crook of her neck. “i love this perfume,” you slurred quietly, making her smile and huff amusedly. "i know, you say that every time I wear it." she said, lifting a hand to play with a strand of your hair. you hummed, taking in the sweet smell of her perfume, it was intoxicating.

"It's so good,” you mumbled, nuzzling further into her neck, inhaling deeply.

jinx chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. her fingers traced lightly down you jaw before they reached your chin and gently forced you to look at her.

"how high are you, pretty baby?" she teased, her voice lower now as her fingers continued to explore your face. you looked up at her, eyes glassy and unfocused. it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the way her fingers felt against your skin. “very," you mumbled, the words slurring in your mouth. "very high. i feel kinda floaty."

jinx’s eyes darkened, the gleam of mischief appearing in them. "you are so high." she teased, her thumb tracing your bottom lip. “just how i like you."

you hummed faintly, pretending to bite on her finger. jinx let out a low, dark chuckle, her thumb now pressing against your tongue. "naughty girl."

her words sent a shiver down your spine, your heart raced in your chest. the way she was looking at you sent waves of heat through your body.

your lips closed around her finger, a low whimper vibrating down your throat at the sensation, soon suctioning without breaking eye contact. her eyes darkened even further, the sound of your whimper making her breath hitch. a low, primal sound left her lips as her gaze fixated on your.

"you’re getting bold, baby," she purred, her thumb pushing further into your mouth. you hummed around her finger, the feeling making your head spin even further. the combination of the weed and her scent was overwhelming, it was turning your brain to mush. your eyes fluttered, your tongue swirling around her thumb. you didn’t know where this audacity was coming from, but it just felt so good.

jinx chuckled darkly, her eyes scanning your face as her thumb gently caressed your lips. "you just can't help yourself, can you?" her tone was low and teasing, but you could hear the hint of restraint in it. “so needy…"

you gently pulled away from her thumb, a trail of saliva connecting both of you. her gaze darkened even further at the sight, her eyes scanning over your face with a mix of hunger and restraint. her breath hitched as your lips touched her jaw. she tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her skin to your mouth.

“you’re being such a good girl for me right now." she whispered, her free hand finding the nape of your neck. her words causing a shiver run down your spine, eagerly pushing her down to lay on her back as you kept savoring her skin, her body laid beneath yours without resistance.

she hummed, her hand in your hair. she gently tugged on the strands. you were too focused to respond to her teasing. she tilted her head back as your lips traveled down her neck, hands roaming around her form shamelessly. she felt warm beneath your body, your fingertips sneaking down her shirt and feeling her smooth skin. her pulse quickened under your lips as your body pressed flush against her. a moan left her throat, her grip on your hair tightening. her hips bucked against yours, the movement was subtle but definitely deliberate. you were doing such a good job at working her up.

jinx’s breath hitched as your fingers moved to the buttons of her jeans, the action seeming to catch her off guard. she wasn’t complaining, but she wasn’t expecting it. “you’re getting awfully handsy,” she rasped.

“i just wanna taste you…” you almost whined into her neck, too drunk with desire to stop and question your own actions.

“taste me, huh?” jinx chuckled, her hand in your hair gripping harder. her voice was still teasing but now laced with a hint of lust. “can you even handle it, pretty baby?”

you looked up at her, eyes glassy and lips slightly swollen. you knew you looked wrecked right now, a needy mess of a girl yearning for more. but you didn’t care.

"i can handle it." you huffed, your fingers struggling a bit with the last button. "i need to taste you, please.”

you couldn’t handle it.

your fuzzy senses made you move sloppily, munching on her pussy like she was your last meal, muffling your whimpers and moans against her as you humped the edge of the couch like a dog in heat. the way you lapped her folds made her groan loudly, rocking her hips against your face and pulling your hair aggressively.

“so pathetic,” she chuckled hoarsely, the view of you between her legs was making it hard for her to keep her composure. “you’re so desperate for me, such a needy—“ pathetic girl she was about to say, but the words dissolved in her throat as a loud moan escaped her lips when you sucked hard on her clit. she tightened her grip on your hair, guiding your movements. “hmmyeah…that’s it. good girl.”

your heart raced at the praise, she was intoxicating. a goddess you’d want to live and die for, to go against your own convictions just for a little bit of her.

her thighs closed around your head, holding you in place as you continued to slurp her fluids. the sounds and smell of sex will definitely linger in the fabric of the sofa, yet again, that was the last of your concerns. in fact, who says you won’t be sniffing on it days later just hoping to catch a taste of her again.

her moans rasped her throat, getting impossibly louder as she edged her high. her legs around my head was making you feel dizzy, the taste of her on your tongue, her noises in your ear, her scent in your nose. it was like your own version of heaven.

she was gripping your hair so hard it was almost painful, but you didn't mind. you wanted to hear her come undone, “please," you whimpered, barely able to get the word out. you kept begging between sloppy kisses on her folds. “please, please, please..let me make you cum, please.” you whined desperately.

she pulled at your hair to meet your eyes, both of you had them glossy, red and wide pupils. jinx bit her lip so hard that it drew blood at some point, staining her cracked lips in a dark red shade.

“you’re really gonna make me lose it.” she choked out.

your tongue was relentless, switching between pressing and swirling around her clit and pumping inside her hole, her creamy juices dripping down your chin. “please come for me, i wanna taste you, hm, jinx,” the words fell out of your mouth like a prayer, you hands gripping her thighs to the point of leaving marks on her pale skin.

“can’t— don’t stop!” she trembled, babbling and babbling incoherences, “i-i’m—“ a loud, guttural moan broke her sentence. her slim body tensed up before quivering and eyes shut as she rode out her peak. she was mesmerizing, you couldn’t stop even when your jaw was aching so bad. “f-fuck, stop, stop.” she pleaded, flinching away from your greedy mouth.

the intensity left you both panting heavily, she covered her face with her forearm and you shifted to rest on her stomach, fingertip drawing random patterns over her cloudy tattoos. jinx was wrecked, trying to even her breath.

“c’mere.” she mumbled, petting your head with her free hand. she doesn’t have to ask twice for you to crawl up to her, resting your head on her chest. youf mind was still dizzy from everything that just happened.

she was running her hand through your hair, when she broke the silence "you’re such a good girl," she murmured, her voice hoarse.

heat rushed to your face at her words. even just her voice sounded wrecked, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at knowing you were the one who did that to her.

you nuzzled yourself further into her chest, your body was starting to feel heavy. she chuckled faintly, her hand still running through your hair. "and now you're a sleepy, stoned mess."

after a beat, she added, "not that that's any differently from how you usually are, though."

“stop babbling,” you mumbled, pecking the top of her breast. “let’s nap.” she groaned softly, shifting slightly to fix her underwear and lay comfortably. “you’re still no fun.” she murmured, cuddling you back.

bonus !

having jinx on your lap as you hung out with the group wasn’t something new. but only a fool wouldn’t realize the change of dynamic between you and her. as one of your hands was busy holding your drink, the other gripped possessively to her hip, pulling her back in place whenever she slipped for squirming too much, babygirl couldn’t sit still as she told her fabulous stories.

“jinx,” ekko’s voice interrupted as he approached with a confident smile. “i have a blunt to share, ya wanna head upstairs?”

“oop— nah, thanks man.” she chuckled, leaning back against your chest as she held your hand to her stomach. “i only smoke my girlfriend’s weed.”

[plutosillywrites]

part 2 of plus sized! reader who gets swooped up by the boys in the bar..

CW: oralf!receiving, themes of sex, 5some basically lol, 18+!

after successfully slotting you thigh to thigh against Gaz and John, across the booth sits Johnny, and Simon. you can’t help but feel a little squirmy being squeezed between two muscular men.

Gaz is a cheeky shit, hand placed daringly on your thigh, rubbing back and forth. “so,” Gaz starts turning his focus to you— as does the rest of them. “can i get the honor of knowing your name?” you say your name to the group, and hear an echo of their names back.

“you guys have such handsome names..” you smile, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “that’s awful sweet coming from you, love.” says john, and ohhh fuck—

your daddy issues have never been more apparent than now when you look at him, greying and gruff in all the right places. you look away— your face heating up so quick that you’re just a tad embarrassed.

“haha.. thank you..” you say, nervousness dripping in your words, you look towards simon and johnny, and you’re taken aback—

simon’s eyes are piercing, gorgeous, and completely focused on you and you alone. “you are a fuckin’ stunning lass.” johnny says, his eyes also trained on you.

you smile, sheepish— and you closely resemble charlie browns wobbly smile, “thank you.. you’re all making me blush.” you say, like they don’t already know—

the smirk they’re all wearing tells you it all.

“can’t blame us for thinking a bird like you is just so pretty…” simon trails off, and you feel gaz’s hand slide farther up your thigh, until you feel it stop right before your core..

“if you don’t want me to do this— tell me now,” you don’t move to say no, in fact you position your legs for him to have better access. “..want it— but i wanna lay on a comfy bed.. please.” this earns a laugh from the group, and gaz (much to your dismay) removes his hand and fixes your dress.

one by one you all slid out from the booth, before you can ask whose place we’re going to the boys are already tugging you towards their car, john in the drivers seat, gaz in the passenger. in the back it consists of johnny, you, and then simon. and they take full advantage of having you to themselves.

johnny leans over, after buckling all three of you, his lips dusting over the shell of your ear. “aye, lass.. you might drive me fuckin’ crazy..” before leaving soft kisses down your throat.

and simon leaves no time to waste, sucking hard on the other side of your neck— which is sure to leave marks in the morning, (are you really complaining though.. no.) his hand making its way to push up your dress.

his hand falters, only waiting obediently for your approval— and you can’t barely think with two hot men kissing and sucking on your neck. “please— please touch me—“ you rasp out, pants and quiet moans leaving your lips as johnny continue his ruthless attack on your neck.

“are you guys leaving us out?” gaz says from the front— but you can tell from his voice that he doesn’t feel offended at all, in fact, you can see him looking from the corner of his eye.

tilting your head back and grinding into simon’s hand, as he’s slipped it into your pretty black lace panties, rubbing softly at your bud, tight circles that leave you almost breathless.

johnny makes quick work too, tilting your head towards him so he can capture your lips in a kiss that has your head spinning and your hand trapping at his jacket. his jungles against your lips “you taste so good bonnie.”

the car stops, and you only realize it has when johnny breaks away and simon’s pulls away from your neck and underwear, you let out a whine of protest but get silence with a light pat to your thigh. “patience— you’ll get what you want, lovie.” simon’s whispers out, restraint evident in his voice.

the boys usher you out of the car and into their shared home, and as soon as that door closes you can bet your ass they’re hands are all over you, john is kissing you with such passion you can’t even tell whose hands are whose that are touching you.

your moans against john’s lips as he leads you to the bed room, pulling away with a grin— “you are so needy.. poor thing needs to be fucked real good, doesn’t she?” and you nod your head, quickly— it’s been far too long since anyone good had touched you, let alone 4 fucking men.

simon lays down and tugs you down on top of him, you with your dress on partly unzipped, you try to reach behind you but simon stops you, slowly unzipping your dress, sliding your sleek black dress of your body.

simon’s hands travel up your chest, grabbing your pretty tits in your lacy black bra in the palms of his hands, “so fucking gorgeous..” his whispers in your ear, and when your readjust in his lap— you can feel just how attracted he his to you too with his hard on. “i.. ah- could say the exact same to you..” and you can feel his smile on your skin.

your trance is broken when you feel hand nudging your knees apart, and you see johnny knelt between your legs, behind him gaz and john are in a heated kiss, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, “wait- wait, are you sure?” you ask johnny.

the last couple guys you were with were barely men clearly, not wanting to go anywhere near your pussy unless it meant getting their dick wet— but johnny? johnny is different, (a real man) and he is insulted you’d assume such a thing.

“am i sure? darlin’.. is the sky blue?” he says, nipping and kissing at your thighs, before looking up at you with the eyes of a beggar. “please, wanna taste you bonnie.. wanna make you feel so good.” you breath gets caught in your throat, and you feel simon reach and grab your legs— holding them apart perfectly for johnny. “cmon, love.. let ‘im have a taste. i know i want one too..”

you sigh blissfully, before nodding, your lips parted in a euphoric expression. “please johnny.. want you to—“ and he cuts you off with a long lick with his tongue bottom to top across your clothed pussy, causing a sharp gasp from you at the feeling. he smiles and latches his lips to your bud through your panties, sucking and licking at it.

you squirm and pitchy, sweet whines leave your throat as simon tilts your head down, making you watch johnny, gaz and john slide on either side of you.

you grind against johnnys tongue until you feel him remove himself, you moan and whimper, “why— why’d you stop? so close— wanna cum..” you whine, rolling your hips in a circle which causes johnny to grab your love handles. “the boys want a turn too.. would be so mean of you to deny them your tasty cunt, lassie…” johnny murmurs, sliding from your legs and letting gaz take his place.

“yeah, baby, i wanna make you moan for me too.. so unfair.” gaz says with a faux pout, but you know it’s just a facade, your eyes are watery and you’re still trying to move your hips. “please- please, touch me again!” gaz laughs, his head ducking to your cunt, grappling the hem of your panties with his teeth and pulling them down and off, tossing them somewhere in the room.

his tongue gives soft kitten licks at your bud, finger teasing softly at your hole, slick and sticky from how wet you are, you let out a whimper, your hips rolling in a circle on his tongue and fingers.

he tuts at your whines before giving in and sliding his fingers inside, one at first and adding more as he goes, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside which has your brain turning to mush, soft gasp turn to erratic moans leaving your pretty parted lips.

“don’t stop— please, almost there..” your voice trails off into a long whine, but gaz removes his lips and his fingers regretfully from your core, leaving a trail of kisses on your thighs. “wouldn’t be fair if i let you cum before john and simon got to try..” he sits up and you see john towering behind him, his eyes greedy and hungry.

you let your hand travel down your body, resting right before your core. your eyes lidded, with a dark look. “john.. wanna feel you.. please?” you say, your voice soft like silk to him, he crawls up to you a laugh escaping his throat.

“how could i say no to you, love?” he says, his tongue gently playing at your hole, teasing, taunting.. you lean your head back against simon’s shoulder, moans and mewls leaving your lips as your hands go towards johns hair, you feel another hand slowly inching down towards your core.

you look down and realizes it’s simon’s, his fingers rubbing soft but tight circles on your clit, pressing soft kisses to your crown. “so pretty, love.” simon mumbles.

your moans and erratic breathes quicken, your hand reaching out for simon’s thigh. “oh- oh fuck, so close, please.. please!” you roll your hips on simon’s fingers and johns tongue.

you feel john groan against your core, his tongue going quicker and hitting that spot deep inside, simon’s fingers work at your bud rapidly, “c’mon, lovie.. doin’ so good for us, cum for us.”

your rolling hips come to a stop, your breathe hitches and that tight rope in your core snaps, cumming on their tongue and fingers, you slump into simon’s body. clenching pathetically on john’s tongue when he tries to pull away.

when you look around you notice johnny and gaz are somewhere else— and they come back with new clothes and a wet clothe to wipe you down, and you smile meekly at them.

“thank you..” you say, a tiredness overcoming you as you try to blink it away. they laugh breathlessly and wipe you down, johnny sliding on some boxers onto you after. “anythin’ love. you name it, we’ll get it.” they say, putting a shirt on you and curling up at your sides.

you look at them questionably, “don’t you want me to pay you all back?” some frown at your comment, before johnny pipes up. “we wanted to make you feel good— you were our focus. c’mon.. wanna cuddle n sleep now. m’kay?” he says, voice drawing off into a yawn. simon’s voice catches your attention, “because, you’re ours now— we’ve got all the time in the world to have you.. properly.” he whispers.

you smile, and a blush dusts your cheeks, before sliding off simon and onto your side. you lay curled between all these men, who seemed to care for you and have a deep fondness too. you’re in paradise.. and frankly never want to leave.

pt 1 https://www.tumblr.com/plutosillywrites/775042858040311808/imagine-plus-sizereader-going-to-the-bar-for-a

(an// hi !! i hope you guys enjoyed and this lives up to your expectations:3 )

[afterglowsainz]

so it goes… | carlos sainz

summary: carlos has the biggest crush on the famous up and coming actress but she doesn’t know who he is

fc: anya taylor-joy

warnings: this is my first smau so plsss tell me what you think <3 i made it a bit long cause i’m use to write detailed stories but is worth it i swear!! also english is not my first language so there might be mistakes

liked by carlossainz55, bffusername and others

ynusername life lately 🧚🏼‍♀️

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user1 she’s so pretty ughhh

user2 y/n please give me just once chance i’m beggin

user3 simping respectfully

carlossainz55 que linda! (so pretty!)

user4 hello??

user5 ariana what are you doing here 😭

bffusername literally my wife 😮‍💨

ynusername me and you forever 🤭

user6 mother

liked by bffusername, charlesleclerc and others

carlossainz55 great weekend all in all 🏆 podium and good points for the team, ready for the next! 🔜

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user4 let’s gooo smooth operator‼️

user7 forza ferrari 🐎

charlesleclerc great job! double podium next race 👊🏼

user8 brilliant drive carlos!!

user9 VAMOOOOS (let’s go)

user5 okay we see y/n’s best friend in the likes 👀

user10 i think she’s a ferrari fan!

landonorris congrats on the podium or whatever 🙄

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ynusername emma is now on streaming platforms !!! go watch it 🫶🏽

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user1 and they call her the it girl !!!

user2 favorite movie of the year 💞

user3 y/n y/l/n future oscar winner‼️

bffusername GO WATCH MY WIFE’S MOVIE OR ELSE

ynusername you heard her!

carlossainz55 loved the movie!

user4 okay but are we believing he actually saw a romantic period piece or?? 🤨

user5 idk why i kinda believe it solely on the fact that he’s obsessed with y/n 😭

user6 i don’t see the appeal, she’s not all that :/

user4 now i know you did NOT just said that about THE Y/N Y/L/N

user7 y/n drop another movie i’ve already seen this one a thousand times :( (liked by carlossainz55)

likes by charlesleclerc, carlossainz55 and others

ynusername italian nights 🧿

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bffusername my girlfriend the prettiest of prettiest 🥰

user1 picture at a church and partying with måneskin? ohhh she’s cool cool

user2 carlos i understand you completely

carlossainz55 beautiful!

ynusername thank you! 💕

user3 omg did she actually??

user4 somebody make sure carlos is still alive and breathing pls

user5 finally! my boy has been in the trenches for monthsss

landonorris 👀

user6 now lando what do you know??

(ynusername has started following carlossainz55)

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carlossainz55 summer break 🏁

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user1 well hello there

user2 weird way to ask me to marry you but ofc🤭

user3 not carlos immediately posting a thirst trap after yn followed him 😭

user4 thirst trap seems a bit much…

user3 him just casually posting the most earth shattering hottest pictures out of nowhere??

user4 okay you may have a point

user5 post a warning or something next time jesus

user6 I AM ON MY KNEES PLEASE

user7 dinner would be served, house would be cleaned, kids on bed, anything he wants

ynusername 🥰 (liked by carlossainz55)

carlossainz55 🫶🏽

user8 girl me too

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yourusername beautiful beautiful madrid 🤍

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user1 omg you’re in my city!!!

user2 someone send this to carlos quick!

user3 you’re so beautiful 😻

user4 carlossainz55 my guy this is your chance

user5 you’re STUNNING 🤩

carlossainz55 i need to show you all the nice places🫶🏽 (liked by yourusername)

yourusername omg please!! i need a local tour guide

carlossainz55 😊

user6 omg is this the beginning of something???

user7 i’m shipping them already 🤭

user8 someone check on carlos please‼️

[hummingbird24220]

Oh, If Only…

One piece x Reader

I've had some stupid ideas in the works for a while - time to post. This is a short one and i wasn't going to bother posting, but eh, re-reading it gave me a giggle.

Life on the Thousand Sunny was so hard sometimes.

Like now—when your teacup was just out of reach and you had to stretch a whole inch to get it.

You let out a dramatic gasp, tossing your head back. "Oh, if only there were a big, strong and handsome swordsman nearby to pass me my tea... Alas, I am but a helpless soul."

Zoro, who was sitting two feet away, looked up from cleaning Wado Ichimonji.

"Get it yourself," he muttered.

You blinked at him, shocked. “Wow. Chivalry is dead.”

"You’re not even trying to be subtle about it anymore," he added, not even looking at you.

Later, while struggling with an empty jar of peanut butter (it had maybe one spoonful left, maybe), you fell to your knees, clutching the counter like a wounded soldier.

“If only… a charismatic, meat-loving captain would come whisk this jar away and return it… full!”

Luffy appeared instantly. “You want meat?! I got meat!!” He dropped three cooked slabs onto the table.

You blinked. “Luffy, this is chicken.”

“Close enough!!”

The next morning, the faucet gave a little sputter, and you got hit with a slightly colder stream of water than you liked. Tragic.

You gasped, placing the back of your hand to your forehead like a heroine in distress. “Ohhh, if only there was a brilliant, brawny shipwright nearby—one with big, powerful hands—to fix this tragedy!”

Franky poked his head in with a grin. “You rang, little drama queen?” He adjusted his shades and flexed unnecessarily. “Let me SUPER this faucet for you!”

You gave him a round of sarcastic applause. “Finally. A man of culture.”

The real kicker was when you were curled up on the couch, blanket draped over your legs, sighing dramatically while staring at the empty plate in front of you.

“Oh, the hunger… the agony… If only a tall, devilishly handsome French cook would appear and grace me with a snack... Perhaps even a lovingly prepared charcuterie board…”

A beat.

Then—

“I heard that!” Sanji shouted from the kitchen. Moments later, he spun into the room like a culinary prince, silver tray in hand. “For you, mon amour,” he said, placing it on your lap.

You smiled sweetly. “You really do love me.”

He lit a cigarette with a wink. “Of course. Unlike those barbarians you keep calling for.”

You sipped your tea with a satisfied sigh.

Being annoying? Worth it.

-

It started like any other day—you, reclining in the shade with a cold drink, sighing softly as you wiped a perfectly nonexistent bead of sweat from your brow.

“Ohhh, if only I had a charming swordsman to fan me with palm leaves. One with… abs. And brooding eyes.”

Zoro glanced over from where he was lifting weights, scoffed—and then stood.

He walked over silently, snatched a leaf from a nearby branch, and dropped to one knee.

“Oh, poor fragile creature," he said in a deadpan voice. "Enduring so much. Let me serve you in your final moments of discomfort.”

He fanned you twice. Poorly.

You stared at him, stunned.

“…Are you mocking me?”

“Absolutely.”

-

You were refilling your water when Luffy suddenly collapsed against the mast, holding his stomach.

“I’m so HUNGRY,” he moaned loudly. “If only—someone—anyone—cared enough to feed their sweet, lovable, meat-deprived captain.”

“Luffy, you ate thirty minutes ago.”

He flopped onto the deck dramatically. “AND YET I STARVE.”

Usopp walked by and threw a piece of bread on his chest. “Shut up, man.”

You just sipped your water and raised a brow. “Feeling inspired, huh?”

Luffy grinned from the ground. “You make it look fun!”

Later, Franky emerged from under the deck with grease on his face, chest puffed out, clutching his own shoulder.

“Ohhh noooo," he wailed in a mock-heroic voice. "My strong, genius shipwright arm is so tired! If only there was someone—a radiant, fashionable soul—who could feed me grapes while I lie here, being attractive and mechanically gifted!”

You tossed him a bunch of grapes.

He caught them and immediately started eating them one by one, very slowly, while gazing into the distance.

Nami passed by, rolled her eyes, and muttered, “This entire crew has lost it.”

But the best one?

Sanji. Of course.

You were merely humming in the kitchen, waiting for lunch, when he burst in with theatrical flair, one hand on his chest, the other flung toward the heavens.

“My DEAREST, I heard your cries echoing through the galley—your hunger, your yearning, your insatiable desire for flavor!”

You stared. “I literally didn’t say anything.”

He dropped to both knees, clutching a plate like a sacred offering. “Let me offer you my heart—in the form of this five-star lunch, crafted by my hands, forged in fire, and kissed by the gods of cuisine.”

You took the plate slowly. “���It’s a sandwich.”

“A sandwich of love.”

You bit into it. It was damn good.

“I hate that this is working on me,” you mumbled through a mouthful.

By dinner, the crew was full of dramatic sighs, mock swooning, and shirtless fan-waving contests. You sat in the middle of it all, sipping tea like a queen.

“Maybe I created a monster,” you mused aloud.

Zoro leaned in next to you. “Monsters. Plural. Should we stop them?”

You both looked around at Luffy pretending to faint from emotional pain, Franky building a pedestal for himself, and Sanji serenading the fish in the aquarium bar.

You grinned. “Nah. Let them suffer beautifully.”

[makeyoumine69]

Lost Memory (Memory Reboot x4)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader x Timothy Bryce

SUMMARY: Two lost souls, both broken and neglected, knowing they were never meant to be, found solace in each other just for one night.

CONTAINS: SMUT, angst, depression, obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, canon violence, tainted love, blow jobs, face-sitting, hand jobs, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, dirty talk, pet names, sensual foreplay, rimming, intoxication, praise kink.

WORDS: 4.5k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Lost Memory

A/N: Hello everyone, the new chapter is finally here! I'm sorry for the wait, but I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

Cool New York night air enveloped your shivering frame the moment you walked outside, leaving the noisy wedding party behind the walls of the luxurious Ziegfeld Ballroom. Slowly breathing in the fresh air, you closed your eyes and threw your head back a little to come back to your senses—you were literally broken to pieces, to say the least—your heart was pounding painfully in your chest and at some point you wished it would stop beating, thinking that it would end everything and finally set you free from all this pain and suffering. 

Hugging yourself, you took a few weak strides towards the street where cars were speeding by. Just one step, and tomorrow all the newspapers would report that there had been an accident in Manhattan right next to the Ziegfeld Ballroom where the pompous wedding of our Wall Street golden boy was taking place. You laughed to yourself at all this nonsense, how did you ever get into such a situation? Being completely sober, the realization of what you were thinking hit you even harder than if you were drunk or high, but now you were completely lucid, able to feel every twinge of pain.

Bewildered, you watched the yellow cars go by, sometimes you could see the impassive faces of the passengers inside. All this reminded you of a movie whose name you could never really remember. But it was definitely not a comedy or a drama. Maybe it was a documentary about someone's life... a tragic life?

With a sad sigh, you were about to sit down on the curb when you heard loud footsteps behind you and turned around to see a familiar silhouette approaching.

"Bateman?" You asked, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

The man didn't answer, as if he hadn't noticed you at all, casually pulling a cigar out of the pocket of his Prada coat that he wore over his wedding tuxedo, and for a second you thought it was just an illusion your sick mind managed to maintain to keep your psyche from collapsing.

After lighting his cigar, Patrick made a long drag before finally giving you an agonizing stare. "Just wanted to have some fresh air..." he paused, his white teeth clenching around the cigar, making his jawline look so sharp that even in the dark you could see it. "Plus, Evelyn didn't want me to smoke inside. We just got married and she's already making scenes."

You wanted to say something, but stopped at the last moment—his hazel eyes suddenly took your breath away—leaving you completely speechless.

"And you," Bateman continued as he came closer, his elegant figure looking so seductive in the dim light. "I can't believe you left all your business in Chicago just to come here and get squashed like a fucking cockroach!"

"What? What are you talking about?" You asked in a shaky tone, your temples pulsating with a strange tension that made you want to massage them. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

Patrick grinned wickedly as he leveled himself with you, the difference in height only adding to the menace of his appearance. "Tell me one thing, (y/n)," he whispered above your cheek, keeping the mere distance between the two of you. "Did you really think I'd dream of you coming back to me?"

You closed your eyes involuntarily, every word he said bringing the most inhuman pain you had ever felt. "S-stop," you replied, stepping back. "Shut... shut your damn mouth!"

"Ohhh," he cooed at you in a mocking way, which drove you crazy, but then he blew some smoke right in your face, which made you want to punch him in the chest. "You just have to accept that you lost," Bateman suddenly grabbed the collar of your coat to pull you closer. "Just accept that you fell in love with a man who doesn't give a fuck about you."

On the verge of tears, you didn't even struggle as the ground beneath your feet suddenly began to disappear. "I... I will not give you the satisfaction of hating you... you f-fucking bastard!"

Without thinking, you spat right into his smug face and before you knew it, his strong arms were wrapped around your trembling neck, almost straddling you so you couldn't even make a sound. Everything around you began to blur, and the last moment you remembered before passing out was Patrick's menacing laugh as he pushed you right out into the road in front of the speeding car. A fatal blow hit your body, a screeching sound of tires rang in your ears and you screamed in pain, choking on your own breath.

And then the darkness finally took you.

At least you thought so until you heard a familiar male voice calling out to you, and no, it wasn't Patrick. No way, if you were really going to die, you wished you would never meet him in the place you were going to transfer to. No doubt, that son of a bitch would burn in hell while you would end up in heaven. Somehow you were sure of that.

"Jesus, (y/n), will you stop yelling?" The grumpy voice called out to you again.

You blinked several times before opening your eyes to see the opulent interior around you. And who said that heaven was somewhere in the sky where angels were flying around promising a peaceful afterlife?

"Welcome back," the dark-haired man chuckled, swirling his drink in his hand. "I told you not to mix too many cocktails."

Cocktails?

You recoiled as if from an electric shock as you suddenly heard your inner voice, seemingly silent for centuries. Rubbing your eyes, you tried to get up, but the next moment you fell back onto something soft, which seemed to be a car seat, considering you definitely heard the engine rumble, so you were definitely in someone's car. Another attempt to get up was more successful and you took your time exploring the surroundings, and when you managed to get a good look at the person sitting on the opposite side of you, your heart did a flip-flop in your chest.

"Bryce?" You couldn't believe your eyes at first, but when you saw his cheeky grin, you knew it was really him.

"You drifted off right after we got in, so I decided not to wake you," Timothy replied nonchalantly before taking a sip of his drink. "Nice limo? Evelyn and Bateman were supposed to be in it, but then he told me they were leaving in a fucking helicopter," the man laughed, almost dropping the glass. "A fucking helicopter, can you believe that?"

Your head was spinning, making it difficult to process the information. Grunting, you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to remember how you got in here in the first place.

"Ohhh...my head," you hissed, almost kicking the tray of drinks that was on the small table built into the limo door. "What...what happened after the ceremony ended," your question left Tim speechless and for a moment you both remained silent. "Bryce?"

Timothy frowned and placed the empty glass on his knee. "Are you kidding?"

"For God's sake, Bryce!" You suddenly raised your voice, but the next second you hissed in pain. "Can... can you just fucking tell me what the hell am I doing here?"

"You're asking me that?" Bryce tilted his head as he watched you try to sit comfortably. "Come on, (y/n), this isn't funny anymore. Besides, I warned you not to drink too much."

Tsk... I can't remember a damn thing.

When you managed to sit up straight, you pressed yourself against the cold window and sighed in relief. "And what exactly did...we drink?" 

The man scoffed. "I told you...you had several cocktails, but that was not enough...so you decided to finish everything the bar had."

"Ahh, screw you! I don't believe a word you're saying," you threw one leg over the other, watching the blinding lights of oncoming traffic. "Where are we going?!"

"Where? Jeez, if you can't drink, you better not even try," Tim replied curtly, his voice changing, now devoid of any sass. "We're going to my place."

"What?"

"Stop fucking pretending you don't remember," the man barked, squirming in his seat, the glass felt on the soft floor of the limo, thankfully it didn't break. "Do you know how deranged you are? You talked in your sleep-"

"I didn't!" You tried to interrupt him, completely embarrassed. "Take another glass and-"

"No, no, no, hold on!" Bryce leaned forward to get closer so you could see his face more clearly. "Did I hit the nerve?"

Yes, you did. You fucking did.

If only you could really confess and open up to him without fear of being accused or whatever. Would it even be right to tell Tim everything that happened between you and Patrick? When you were so close to telling him all the things that were bothering you, your voice suddenly disappeared, as if some invisible force was choking you from within. Only after a few minutes did you manage to speak, feeling Timothy's piercing gaze.

"Was it Evelyn who invited you to the wedding?" Your question surprised him, you could tell by the way he leaned back in his seat. "I'm just curious...because she invited me."

Every time Evelyn was mentioned, something changed in his expression, and you couldn't really find the right word to describe it—it was something much stronger than the usual sadness people always talked about—something that made you sad, too.

"Let's say," his lips curled into a wry smile and you couldn't take your eyes off them, they were beautiful and alluring. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember or...you don't want to remember?" You opened your coat, suddenly feeling suffocated in your clothes.

Bryce furrowed his thick eyebrows, looked down at the empty glass on the floor, as did you, and then your fingers touched as you both leaned down to pick it up. Tim's skin was not as soft as Patrick's, it felt completely different, it made you want to explore it more, to touch it, to taste it, as if it was your own personal forbidden fruit.

Without saying a word, Tim quickly pulled away and took the glass to place it on the tray next to the others, the amber liquid in them making them look like they were made of gold. There was no room for any more talk as the two of you pulled each other into a furious kiss, you let him place his hand at the base of your neck, drawing you closer and soon you were sitting on top of him, gasping into his mouth. Bryce's slightly flushed face made it impossible to think of Bateman, even though his image tried to appear every time you briefly opened your eyes. 

Leave... me... alone!

You almost growled aloud, but Tim's eager tongue prevented you from doing so, as he used it to shut you up completely, licking your mouth from the inside while his hands slid down your back to your ass, massaging it, and when you thought he was going to slap it, he just gave it a playful squeeze.

"Jesus, Bryce," you whispered against his red lips, swollen from your kisses. "I didn't know you could be so sweet."

Tim craned his neck and you seized the moment to leave a wet hickey on his smooth skin, he smelled so good you thought you could just snuggle into his chest and sniff his scent. And why did you even bother with these childish, silly games with Bateman? Unfortunately, some questions never had answers, but it didn't matter now. Not when you could find comfort in the arms of Patrick's best friend. 

God, I wish you could see me right now.

"There's so little you know about me, baby." He chirped before helping you take off your coat, his impatience turning you on wildly. 

With a soft giggle, you unbuttoned your shirt. "Huh, baby? Really? And I thought you were the type who didn't use such primitive nicknames."

Smirking, you teased him with the slow rocking of your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressed against your burning core, and it spurred you to move faster, more erratically, as you unexpectedly became as impatient as he was. And even though you didn't like losing control, you wanted to get lost right now, even though you'd probably regret it tomorrow, but at least the regret would be different.

Nibbling at the artery on your neck, Timothy grabbed your ass tighter to make the friction more vivid, his finger digging into the expensive material of your Gucci pants. "I can call you anything you want," he growled into your collarbone, your shirt half undone. "Just tell me what you want to be tonight?"

"I can be anything," you caught his warm lips with your own to kiss him again in a way that bordered on desperation, as if your life depended on it, and he responded with the same ferocity. "Anything you want..."

Chuckling at your cheeky statement, the man lounged in his seat and looked at you up and down, admiring the way your clothes were disheveled, your hair was nothing like it had been when you had just arrived at the wedding and even your feelings were different. Everything was different now, the whole world seemed to diminish to the size of the interior of the limousine and you both wanted this moment to last forever, but you knew it was impossible.

Bryce decided to use his mouth in a more effective way than just talking, latching it around your nipple through your shirt, but then taking it off completely and swirling his tongue around your hard tip.

"Don't be anything," he quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled out his hard cock. "Just be mine tonight."

You couldn't hide a smile of genuine satisfaction as his words struck a chord in your chest. "Deal."

With that, you carefully rose from his lap to position yourself between his wide-open legs, watching him touch himself with pure abandon. And yet, everything about Tim was far too alien, your mind kept bringing back the memories of what had happened in the bathroom a few hours ago. It hurt, it hurt so much that you almost chewed your cheek to the point of blood to hold back the tears. Bryce, you had to focus on Bryce, he was here, right in front of you, all spread out and pumping his thick cock. 

Stop thinking about Bateman!

"Are you sure you know what to do?" Timothy glared down at you, concerned by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Shaking yourself off, you smiled in reply and before you knew it, your hand was sliding along his, then completely replacing it and stroking his dick vigorously, smearing his dense pre-cum all along your hand. 

"Watch me," you murmured and lowered yourself even more to take him in your mouth, savoring his salty taste. "Mhhm...fuck, Bryce, you taste so good."

Tim couldn't stop himself from moaning, grabbing the edge of the seat and closing his eyes in ecstasy. "Keep going," he purred, fighting the urge to fuck your throat. "Shit... Bateman doesn't even know what he lost."

Bryce's words almost made you choke on his beefy shaft, but it only took a moment to pull yourself together and just enjoy the way his dick slid in and out of your mouth. As the man pushed himself further, the tip brushing against your throat, you leaned against his hips for support, allowing him to have his way with you. Just the sight of him made you tremble with desire, as you had never really thought that Tim could be so hot, not that you had any doubts that he was a skilled lover, but reality never ceased to surprise you.

"I...I'm so fucking close...uh," his voice dropped even lower, eloquent proof of his words. "Your mouth...arhhh...you know how to work magic with your mouth, babe."

Although you had always denied having a praise kink, being with Tim was the first time you were truly willing to admit that you did have a praise kink. Every little praise he gave you was like balm to your broken soul, encouraging you to suck him harder, to drink him dry. These two men were far too unlike each other, but in the end, you seemed to crave them both.

Being so close to falling apart, Bryce couldn't control himself any more and took a handful of your hair and plunged full length into your bruised mouth until you both noticed that the car had stopped. Tim swore loudly but that didn't stop you and the next thing you remembered was feeling thick ropes of his hot cum shooting down your throat and you could swear it tasted so fucking sweet. Maybe you were delusional, maybe it was just another hallucination–you didn't care because you were high like no drugs could make you.

I'll remember that taste for sure. 

A little later, you didn't know exactly how much time had passed, and you didn't recollect how the two of you had gotten into Bryce's apartment. You didn't care about the luxury of this place, how expensive the furniture was, how soft the silk sheets were when you fell on them, your naked skin sliding along the cold material like a ship on waves. You were about to lose all connection to reality when Tim climbed on top of you, his hairy chest rubbing against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist and you couldn't stifle a moan as his leaky dick rubbed against your legs.

Creasing the sheets, you raked your hand through his black, tousled hair, pulling him closer so that your lips could collide in a hunger kiss. "Fuck me, Tim," you murmured unexpectedly, brushing your feet against his hips. "Fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

"Are you always this needy?" He teased, biting your lower lip and licking it after a quick nibble. "Or is it because of me?"

Perplexed, you stopped doing anything as his words left you pondering. "I... I don't know... I don't know who I really am..."

Bryce nodded without saying anything, his nose touching yours in a brief moment of genuine affection, and somehow you thought he understood everything, that he could read you like an open book and there was no need for you to explain. Pecking your cheek, the man slowly turned you over on your stomach and you quickly got down on all fours because you couldn't wait any longer. Bucking your hips, you turned around to see him positioning himself behind you, his warm palm caressing your ass before a finger probed your tight hole, making you gasp but you didn't falter, showing him how ready and eager you were.

"Uhh," Tim stroked himself several times before aligning himself with your opening and diving in with a slow, deliberate thrust. "Fuck...mmhm-fuck."

The mere thought that he had been imagining Evelyn all this time, starting with you giving him head, suddenly made you angry, and for a brief second you allowed yourself to imagine that it was Patrick who was stretching you from the inside, but somehow you began to feel even worse.

"I'm sorry...I'm not Evelyn," you blurted out without thinking. "But I..."

"Shut up," he cut you off and slammed into you relentlessly, forcing you to take him, no matter how painful it was. "I don't want to hear about her...not even a thing."

Bryce was right, it was so fucking stupid of you to bring Evelyn at such a moment, but it was so hard for you to think clearly and Tim's fat cock didn't help at all, the fullness it gave you was completely overwhelming. It made you forget everything and you didn't even want to compare your sensation with the way Patrick made you feel - your mind was finally free of any emotions or thoughts–you were drowning in a carnal lust. You were both extremely vocal, poor neighbors who could hear you at this hour, but Timothy seemed to be completely indifferent as he set the pace, pounding into you with all his might, each stroke full of desperation and unbridled passion. 

By the time dawn broke, you couldn't remember how many orgasms you'd both had, as you'd probably tried every possible and impossible position. You managed to be on your knees for him, under him, on top of him. It was madness you never thought you were capable of. As you rode his face, touching yourself, you cried out Bryce's name, not even afraid to accidentally use Patrick's name instead. 

"Tim...mhmm-fuck...Tim...I'mma cum!" You fisted his hair, sliding along his glistening face as you rubbed your most sensitive spot. "Fuck...yeahh-Tim...ahhh!"

Shaking, you cum around his face, feeling his strong tongue move inside your tight ass as your inner channel spasmed around it, causing him to moan and hold you close to prolong your climax. Time stopped for both of you with the last stroke of his tongue along your tender flesh and you both collapsed exhausted on the bed. 

The first rays of the sun awoke you earlier than you could have imagined. As you lazily got up from the bed, trying not to disturb Tim snoring peacefully, you checked the time before you started looking for your clothes. To be honest, you wanted to stay here in his bed and continue to sleep in his arms, but you knew it would only lead to destruction and you were sure that Bryce thought the same.

Maybe it was a mistake?

Frowning, you wanted to punch yourself for being so reckless and stupid, but Tim's loud exhale caught your attention. You turned to check on him before leaving his bedroom to quickly get dressed and use the bathroom. All the while, you tried to ignore your own reflection, feeling the shame and contempt eating away at you from within, though you didn't even understand why. Bryce wanted this to happen as much as you did, but no matter how hard you tried to reassure yourself, it just didn't seem right. After one last look in the large mirror above the sink, you left the bathroom and soon after you left Timothy's apartment. 

The taxi ride back to the Plaza Hotel didn't take long as it was only six in the morning. Looking out the window, you saw rare pedestrians walking here and there, some of them holding newspapers that you were sure were the New York Times. The tops of the skyscrapers were about to reach the sky, and every time you craned your neck to look at them, your head began to spin. All these little details made you realize that you missed New York and probably your former life?

Was it worth it leaving everything behind?

This question kept swirling around in your head even as you finally got back into your suit and decided to take a shower to clean up after such a wild day. Dear God, you just fucked two different men in one day. 

"I'm so pathetic..." You muttered to yourself as you stood under the hot water. "What am I going to do now?"

Pressing your head against the wet tiled wall, you gave up and let the tears flow down your face, the water washing them away in an instant. You felt guilty, thinking that you'd only used Bryce for your own needs, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything serious, but you did it anyway. It was so damn selfish. But then you remembered the words Patrick had said to you in the bathroom just before the ceremony started. You clenched your hand into a fist and the next second you slammed it into the wall with all the strength you had. The blow was so strong that your hand began to bleed, but you ignored it because physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside your soul. As if under a spell, you kept hitting the wall, leaving bloodstains on it. 

Five hours later, you are sitting in the restaurant area of the Plaza, waiting for Paul Allen to join you for lunch. Since you had some time before your flight to Chicago, you thought it would be good to catch up with him and talk a little about your current situation at your new job.

Maybe I can get a fresh start here...

Rocking in your seat, you looked down at your bruised hand, which was covered in a tight white bandage, and luckily you managed to stop the bleeding without going to the hospital, but you were still a little nervous, though not because of your wound. What if Paul would tell you that there was no way you could return to New York because the company in Chicago wouldn't let you go? You tapped your fingers on the table in anxiety before picking up the New York Times to distract yourself. One page, then another, until an interesting article appeared in your vision–a luxurious tobacco store in Upper Manhattan had been robbed–the very store you always liked to visit and even dreamed of buying a collection of cigars to give to Patrick...

"(Y/n)! How have you been?" Paul's cheerful voice echoed across the room and when you turned to face him, you noticed that he looked even more tanned than the last time you saw him. 

"Oh, hi," you accepted his handshake and then Allen took a seat across from you. "I've been better," your other hand was still holding a newspaper and it caught Paul's attention. "What about you?"

Paul nodded in understanding. "Well, my job kicks my ass, is all I can say," he laughed, and before you could say anything else, he pointed to the copy of the New York Times. "What are you reading?"

Slightly embarrassed, you folded the paper and put it aside. "Times," you replied briefly. "The tobacco store I liked to visit was robbed in broad daylight. Can you imagine that?"

Allen shifted in his seat. "I didn't know you frequented places like this," he chuckled, finally opening the menu. "Because I don't remember you smoking."

Smirking, you leaned back in your chair. "You don't know anything about me, Allen," you took a sip of your wine and watched him tense up a bit. "Anyway, I just got a little upset because I wanted to buy something in this store for..." you suddenly stammered, feeling dizzy.

"For...?" Paul arched his eyebrows and looked at you suspiciously.

"For a person... ," you finished. "...a very special one."

"Your date?" The man asked in a playful tone. "And who might that be?"

You found this situation quite ironic, because you really imagined yourself going to that store and buying those fucking cigars, hoping they would impress Bateman, and now you ended up fucking his best friends because he married Evelyn Williams.  

As you propped yourself up on your elbow, you suddenly started to laugh, but then it turned into a pathetic whimper. "I'm so fucked up, Allen," you shook your head and gripped the table. "You can't even imagine how... fucked up... I am."

And I don't know how I'm going to survive this.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[highladyandromeda]

The Stolen Pen

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel inadvertently steals a pen from Y/n, his crush. His covert operations to rectify the situation spirals into a comedy of errors…will Azriel be able to return the pen and admit his feelings, or will he forever be labeled as a thief? 

Warnings: None, just fluff with stupid decisions, a sprinkle of jealousy, silly mistakes, and perhaps too many details about pens. 

A/N: So I was supposed to be writing my other fic, but I was a bit stumped on where to take that…So I started this with the intention of it being a cute, short, one-shot or blurb…but here we are…7k words later….this is a fluffy mess. 

“Ohhh there come the lover boy”, Cassian whisper-yells, as Azriel silently slides into the chair next to Nesta in their shared criminal justice elective. His attempt at stealth, however, is foiled by that not-so-subtle announcement. With a scowl aimed at Cassian, Azriel attempts to shrink further into his chair, hoping that their professor remains engrossed in her lecture and oblivious to his tardiness.

“Shhhhhh” Nesta whispered, smacking the back of Cass’s head, giving Azriel some support before she smirked, “He’s not lover boy yet. Have you even been able to say something beyond hello and goodbye?

The question hits Azriel with the force of a freight train, his cheeks burning with a flush that he prays is hidden by the shadow of his hoodie. He's saved from having to voice his defeat by the TA, who chooses that moment to distribute study guides for their impending exam. Grateful for the distraction, Azriel takes out his pen, only to catch the curious—and amused—gazes of Nesta and Cassian directed not at him, but at his hand.

Always self-conscious about his scars, he hunches further into his hoodie, but as he follows their stares back to his paper, Azriel's heart sinks. In his hand lies a distinctly feminine, pink pen adorned with a star or flower emblem at its tip, an object so glaringly out of place in his grip that it screams for attention. The realization hits him like a wave, leaving him momentarily speechless. Oh. Oh. 

“Please tell me that's whose I think it is," Nesta teases, barely containing her laughter as she observes Azriel's stunned silence.

At Azriel’s complete silence, Nesta waved a hand in front of his face, glancing at Cassian and mouthing did he stop functioning? To which she got a shoulder shrug in response.

Her attempts to elicit a response from him were futile; Azriel was lost in a haze of embarrassment, fixated on the damning piece of evidence in his hand. Nesta's playful pokes did nothing to snap him out of his daze, and in a moment of sheer mortification, Azriel let his forehead meet the desk with a thud loud enough to turn heads. If he thought he was invisible before, he's anything but now.

Azriel was mortified.

He was utterly and completely mortified. Azriel felt like he was living in a nightmare, one where embarrassment was the main theme, and there was no waking up. He wished for anything—a magic trapdoor beneath his feet, or maybe a sudden, convenient superpower to teleport himself out of this situation. But no, the reality was far less accommodating, especially since he was holding onto something that wasn't his. A pen. Not just any pen, but one that belonged to you, given in a moment of desperation.

Azriel let out a groan, which Cassian tried to cover with a cough that was more like a shout, and Nesta with the dramatic slam of her books. Their attempts were valiant but futile against the tidal wave of Azriel's mortification.

He thought back to earlier in the day, in the calculus class he shared with you, the one in which he always sat in the back corner and one day you came in late, and sat next to him. Somehow, since then, you kept coming back to that spot, and though he replied each time to your good mornings and goodbyes, he wanted to speak up. Maybe ask if you were new because he would've noticed you in the previous math classes. Or maybe inquire if you had transferred, under the guise of offering a tour of the campus. Yet, whenever he caught sight of your ebony hair and the spark in your eyes, words fled from him, leaving silence in their wake.

Just like today, where for once he was there after you…he had made it a bit of a habit to be early to that one class, mainly because it was a class that was important to his major. Of course, he couldn’t finish his computer science degree if he failed multivariable calculus, and the…added benefit of watching you walk into the building from the windows and then up the stairs, always giving him a smile before sitting down, was just that…a benefit. 

But yes, today he slept through his alarm, got trapped in a conversation with his elderly neighbor, the one he didn’t know how to escape without Cass or Rhys, was almost run over twice on his motorcycle, and arrived as a verifiable mess to class. After jumping into his seat, he patted himself down so rigorously and nearly up-ended his entire bag trying to find a pen, needing to copy down the partial derivatives he knew the professor would showcase on their next exam. 

His frantic search for a writing instrument ended when you noticed his plight and offered yours with a simple, "Do you need a pen?" Frozen, Azriel could only nod, accepting the lifeline you offered but cursing his inability to say anything more–Oh, caldron boil and fry me…

“You stole her pen?” 

“I–I didn’t steal her pen, Nesta”

“You stole her pen.”

“Her mount blank pen”, added Cassian, smiling cheekily behind his phone.

“Whose what–Cass, don’t smile at me with fries sticking out of your mouth.” Feyre joins them in their usual diner, sliding into the booth next to Az. 

“He stole his crush’s pen,” Cass continues, swallowing his food this time, after Nesta pinched his thigh.

“I didn’t steal her pen!”

“You stole someone’s pen?” Rhys joins, sliding next to Feyre and setting down a tray of milkshakes. 

Azriel's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, if that was even possible, under the relentless teasing of his friends. "I didn't steal it. She lent it to me," he mumbled, his voice barely rising over the din of the diner.

"Ah, but you've yet to return it," Rhys pointed out, a mischievous glint in his eye as he took a sip of his milkshake. "Sounds like a classic case of pen-napping to me."

"It's not like that," Azriel protested, but the laughter from his friends suggested they weren't buying his defense. He glanced down at the pen in question, its sleek design and the way it perfectly balanced in his hand making it all the more precious now that it was a symbol of his hapless affection.

Feyre, having quietly observed the exchange with a gentle smile, finally chimed in. "Maybe it's fate, Azriel. That pen could be your excuse to finally talk to her."

Azriel's heart skipped a beat at the thought. Talk to you. Use words this time instead of just nodding like a lovestruck fool. It sounded so simple when Feyre said it, but the mere idea sent his pulse racing.

His thoughts were interrupted by Feyre's voice again, pulling him back to the present. "Wait, Az, can I see it?" Her curiosity piqued, she leaned sideways, her gaze fixed on the pen he held so carefully.

With a hesitant motion, Azriel passed the pen to her, but before she could comment, Rhys's whistle sliced through the din of the diner.

"I take that back, this is definitely a case of pen thieving," he declared, an unusual seriousness lacing his tone that drew the eyes of the entire table.

Rhys sighed, muttering under his breath about uncultured friends, a comment cut short by Nesta's sharp look. "Azriel, that’s a Mont Blanc Pen."

"That’s what I said! A mount blank pen!" Cassian echoed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and amusement.

Sitting up straight, a sense of urgency overtaking him, Azriel looked from one friend to another, their faces a blend of jest and genuine surprise. Rhys continued, "What that means is it’s quite an expensive pen, Az...I’m sure whoever you borrowed it from will want it back."

The words hit Azriel like a cold wave, his anxiety spiking anew. The fear that you might see him as a thief, as someone who took advantage of a moment of kindness, gnawed at him. 

Azriel's mind went back to this morning, the moment of leaving the classroom flashed vividly before his eyes—your parting words, something about the pen, but all he had managed in response was a series of nods, mesmerized by your smile. The possibility that you might have asked for it back, only for him to unwittingly refuse, twisted in his gut. Did your smile mask pity, or was it simply to avoid the brief intimacy of touch?

"Oh, cauldron, I am a thief. I did steal her pen," he muttered, the realization settling in with a weight that was hard to bear. The joke had turned into a confession, the humor of the situation evaporating as the reality of his inadvertent theft dawned on him. He had to make it right, to return the pen and clear the air, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t think less of him for this misunderstanding.

“Oh Az, I’m sure it’s not that bad” Feyre hands it back to him, trying to provide words of comfort. “It’ll be fine as long as you see her again.” 

This must have been the sixth stare Azriel received, as he shuffled in front of the large windows in the building’s hallway. He supposed he cut quite a figure, dressed entirely in black, complete with a mask and his hoodie covering his entire head. But he was here on a mission, no matter the next group of students he saw from the corner of his eye, whispering and pointing at him. He needed to keep watch and see when you would be walking up to the building. He could only think about your pen for the past 2 days, cursing whatever entity who’d assigned this calculus class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He needed to give it to you today because he wasn’t sure if he could handle the anxiety all weekend. 

At first, he just wanted to leave it on your regular seat and skip class today. Maybe leaving behind a cute note with the pen, asking to treat you to coffee in return for his unintentional theft. But, then he spiraled, what if you no longer went to the seat next to him, thinking of him as some ungrateful and lying douchebag. He couldn’t just leave it there for someone else to pick up, especially after Rhys mentioned its exclusivity. He didn’t want to accidentally lose your pen and ruin all chances of ever getting to talk to you. 

But as the minutes ticked by, the usual stream of students thinned…and the bell that marked the start of class echoed hollowly in the emptying hallway. You didn't appear. Confusion, then concern, wound its way through Azriel's thoughts. You didn’t appear. Confusion, then concern wound its way through Azriel’s thoughts. Had something happened? Or had you simply decided to skip class? The latter was a possibility that he simply hadn’t considered, having seen you in every class since the start of the semester last month. 

With a heavy heart, Azriel made his way to class, the pen still in his possession. The seat next to him, your seat, remained empty, a silent testament to the day's ruined intentions. As the lecture on derivatives and integrals droned on, Azriel couldn't help but feel the gap next to him acutely, an empty space filled with missed connections and unspoken words.

The clatter and chatter of the diner wrapped around Azriel like a familiar blanket as he sank further into the booth, an attempt to escape the scrutiny he knew was coming. The weekly Saturday breakfast with Rhys and Cassian was usually a highlight, a chance to decompress and share laughs over greasy food. Today, however, Azriel felt the weight of his unresolved dilemma like a lead apron around his chest.

Rhys slid into the booth, arching an eyebrow as he took in Azriel's disheveled appearance. "Looks like someone hasn't slept in days," he commented, his voice laced with concern and a hint of amusement.

Azriel could only groan in response, the word "sleep" feeling foreign and elusive. Cassian's next words did nothing to improve his mood. "He's still a thief," he joked, nudging Azriel with his elbow.

Rhys's surprise was evident. "You still haven't returned the pen?" He shook his head, disbelief and curiosity mingling in his expression.

Cassian leaned back, sipping his coffee. "He hasn’t been able to find her. She skipped class."

The conversation paused as a waiter delivered their usual array of milkshakes and waffles, a temporary distraction from the topic at hand. Rhys, ever the problem solver, wasted no time in offering a solution. "I can see if I can pull some strings, and find her contact information. Or at least her email."

Silence descended upon the table, thick and heavy. Both Cassian and Rhys turned to Azriel, expecting confirmation or at least a nod of approval. Instead, they were met with a profound silence that spoke volumes. The shock on their faces was almost comical.

Rhys was the first to break the silence, disbelief coloring his tone. "Don’t tell me…"

Cassian's eyes widened. "You don’t know her name??"

"Not even her first name???" Rhys added, his voice an octave higher in astonishment.

Azriel felt a flush creep up his neck, coloring his cheeks a deep shade of red. The truth of the matter, laid bare amidst the remnants of breakfast, felt absurd even to him. He had spent the week agonizing over a pen, over missed opportunities and unspoken words, without ever knowing your name.

“But you said she’s in your compsci class?” Rhys continued

Azriel shook his head, “No, we're in multivariable calculus together. But she’s definitely new.” 

At Cassian and Rhys's blank stares, Azriel elaborated, “It’s one the hardest math classes, I would have noticed her in the previous levels.”

“Wait Az, pull out the pen again.” Rhys reached his hand over. 

His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, flicking between Azriel and the pen before he floated an invitation his way. "Why don't you take and break and join Feyre and me tonight? We're catching up with my childhood friend—the one who introduced me to Feyre. Actually, Cass, join us and bring Nesta along. We’re meeting at Rita’s as usual so Mor will be there too. 

Azriel, however, wasn't so sure. "I don’t know…" he mumbled, lost in his whirlwind of thoughts, missing the significant glances Rhys shot towards Cassian.

As if on cue, Cassian's boisterous encouragement broke through his reverie. "Oh, come on, Az. It's not like the pen's going to grow legs and run off!"

 And with Rhys adding, "Give us some company, won't you, Azriel? My dear friend will feel left out among the couples." 

With a mix of encouragement and playful ribbing, Azriel found himself agreeing if only to escape the orbit of his own overthinking for a while.

Thus, Azriel found himself stepping into Rita's coffee shop, transformed at night into a cozy jazz club, clad in his finest casual attire. Gone was the hoodie, replaced by a crisp black shirt, his best jeans, and the leather jacket that felt like a second skin. The pen, its significance magnified beyond reason, was securely tucked inside his jacket, close to his heart.

Entering the cafe with Nesta and Cassian, who both looked effortlessly chic, Azriel couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement beneath his apprehension. Rita’s transformed at night from a quaint coffee shop into a vibrant jazz club, complete with dance floors and hidden alcoves, a favorite haunt for their group.

Curiosity about this mysterious friend of Rhys and Feyre nibbled at the edges of his thoughts. Described by Rhys as a "childhood companion" and by Feyre with glowing terms of talent and kindness, she seemed almost too good to be true. Feyre’s stories painted her as a guardian angel of the arts, guiding Feyre through her first year with museum visits and personal tutorials in art history, a beacon of support that enabled Feyre to pursue her dreams in Fine Arts.

Azriel couldn't deny the intrigue, a part of him eager to meet the person who had inadvertently brought both his brothers' such happiness and given him such close friends. 

Rita's was a place of warmth and music, where coffee aromas mingled with the sultry notes of jazz, and where the dance floor beckoned the brave. It was here, amidst the casual elegance of his friends, that Azriel hoped to find some semblance of peace.

His heart was already racing from the anticipation of the night, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he stepped into the semi-circle of his friends and saw her.

The back of a girl, her black tweed jacket adorned with intertwining threads of red and gold, caught his immediate attention. It was a unique piece, one he recognized because it hung over the chair next to him just days ago in calculus. As if on cue, Cassian nudged him forward, breaking his trance and thrusting him into the moment he had been both dreading and longing for.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, each step toward the table feeling like a journey in itself. Then, as Rhys and Feyre stood, pulling the girl up with them, the world snapped back to its rightful pace, but not for Azriel. For him, everything continued in slow motion, the ambient noise fading into a distant buzz, drowned out by the sudden pounding of his heart.

"This is my childhood friend," Rhys began, his voice cutting through the fog in Azriel's mind.

"And my first college friend, Y/n," Feyre added, her smile bright and welcoming. “She just came back from a year abroad, so everyone welcome her well!”

Rhys continued with the introductions, but Azriel heard none of it. His gaze locked with Y/n's, and in that moment, everything else fell away. Her eyes, a captivating mix of curiosity and warmth, seemed to hold him in place, rendering him utterly speechless.

"Oh hi, Azriel!" Y/n's voice, clear and cheerful, attempted to bridge the gap between them. But Azriel remained frozen, caught in the storm of his own emotions, unable to muster even the simplest of greetings.

Then, the silence was shattered by Cassian's laughter. "Sorry about that, Azriel is just too shy, isn't that right?" he joked, clapping Azriel on the back hard enough to jostle him from his stupor. With a friendly push, Cassian maneuvered him into the booth next to Y/n before sliding in next to Rhys and Nesta.

As Feyre drew Y/n back into the conversation, wanting to connect her with Nesta over their love for books, Azriel couldn't shake the feeling of the pen in his pocket. It was as if the object, a simple tool for writing, had become a symbol of all his unspoken words, his hidden desires, and his fear of reaching out. It burned against his thigh, a constant reminder of the words he had yet to say.

As the night wore on, and their friends' laughter filled the air, Azriel found his eyes constantly drifting to Y/n’s, wanting to capture every smile, every glance, every subtle expression that danced across her features. The ambient light of the club, dim and forgiving, cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting the contours and the genuine joy that seemed to radiate from her. 

When the girls got up to join the dance floor, a tidal wave of reality crashed over Azriel. Rhys and Cassian's sudden attention, their probing questions about his unusual quietness, felt like spotlights on a stage he wasn't prepared to stand on. "I'm just tired," he managed to say, the words feeling like sandpaper against his throat. "And a bit worried, you know." But his attempt to deflect only invited more scrutiny.

Rhys immediately saw through the facade. "She's the girl, isn't she? That's why she said your name before I introduced you." At Azriel's silence, Rhys elaborated further, “She’s also the one I assumed was the owner of that pen, Y/n has an entire collection of Mont Blanc, and she fits into your description, being technically new as she just returned from abroad. 

Azriel’s flush, heavy and telling, confirmed his friends' suspicions without a single word spoken.

“Then this the perfect moment!” Cassian continued. “When she comes back, give the pen and ask to buy her a drink as an apology for the delay”

Rhys perked up as well, hitting Azriel on the shoulder, “Cass is right! I know Y/n, and she’s not one to hold a grudge, especially if you apologize. In fact, get her a tequila daisy, she loves those.”

At his friend’s encouragement, Azriel felt his spirits being lifted. He could do this, he thought, the Mother blessing him with such good luck that he found the girl he was looking today. He should take this as a sign, telling him that this was his time to have courage. As Cass and Rhys shooed him up, spotting the girls returning, Azriel shot back his drink and stood up. With a slightly steadier step, he decided to take a little detour back to their table, positioning himself so he'd see Y/n first. It was a small thing, but it gave him a moment to steel himself, to prepare for her smile, her presence. "Alright, let's do this," he thought, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

As Azriel navigated his way back to the table, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him. The confidence he had just moments ago seemed to evaporate with each step he took. By the time he was close, he found himself unable to meet the gaze of his friends or even Y/n, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, a beacon of his newfound apprehension.

He made a beeline for the chair adorned with the distinctive tweed jacket, so caught up in his thoughts that he completely missed Cassian's worried glance. With a heart racing and a mind swirling with rehearsed apologies, Azriel reached out to tap the shoulder of the person he assumed was Y/n, all the while starting his practiced spiel. "Hey, I just wanted to give you this, I--uh--I'm so sorry couldn't before--let me buy you a drink to make it up—"

His words faltered, dying in his throat as he finally mustered the courage to look up, only to find Elain's familiar face smiling back at him. The confusion was immediate, his brain struggling to catch up with the reality in front of him as Elain, seizing the pen from his grasp, chimed, "Oh, Az, my birthday's still a week away...but thank you so much!" The affectionate kiss she planted on his cheek was meant to be a sweet gesture, yet it only served to heighten Azriel's horror as he watched her examine the pen.

“Oh, that’s so preetty Elain! Mor stumbled by, the alcohol clearly catching up to her by now. “But, why do you have a pen right now? Don’t work, come dance with us! She said laughing, grabbing Cassian on her way back. 

Azriel, now left alone with a blushing Elain, had no idea how this happened. One moment he thought he’d finally get to confess to Y/n and the next moment, he’s given perhaps her prized possession, which she lent him, to another girl. It turned out that he was incorrect before, it's clear that the Mother brought up the worst luck he could have.  

He needed to fix this. 

Now. 

And tell Elain that he did have something for her birthday…just not that. Yes, it had to break it to her now. 

“I know you said you’d be busy and couldn’t make it to my birthday, but you didn’t have to get me something, Az! This is just my color though…”

Azriel stood there, his mind racing with a mix of panic and disbelief. How had he managed to entangle himself in such an awkward situation? The irony of it all was that he had known about Elain's soft spot for him, a sentiment that had grown perhaps from the time he had escorted her back from class to keep her away from her troublesome ex. 

He had considered the possibility of returning her feelings, had even tried to envision something more between them, but his heart never quite made the leap. Elain was wonderful, truly, but the spark he was supposed to feel just wasn't there. And deep down, he knew she deserved someone who could put her at the center of their world, something Azriel couldn't do.

Before he could get a word out, the din of laughter and chatter signaled the return of Rhys and Feyre, their expressions shifting from amusement to confusion as they noticed Elain holding the pen.

Azriel's eyes pleaded for help, a silent, desperate appeal that Feyre caught instantly. She stepped in, her words a flurry of explanations aimed at untangling the misunderstanding. But the situation took another turn with the arrival of Y/n and Nesta, their approach cutting Feyre's explanations short. In a panic, Feyre grabbed Elain's arm, insisting it was late and they needed to leave, effectively dodging the impending awkwardness but leaving the air charged with unsaid words.

Y/n and Nesta returned to find the table enveloped in an unexpected gloom, Rhys and Azriel's expressions painted with unmistakable dismay. The contrast to their earlier mirth sparked immediate curiosity.

"Where did Feyre run off to?" Nesta inquired, her words slicing through the heavy air just as Y/n, with a mixture of concern and confusion, reached out to Rhys. Her fingers brushed his forehead gently, a silent question in her touch. "Are you sick, why do you look so pale?"

Azriel hated the jealousy that sprung up at her actions, especially after what he had done. He immediately chastised himself for the feeling, fully aware that the concern shown was purely platonic. Yet, he couldn't help but long for a similar connection, a moment of care directed towards him, especially from Y/n.

Nesta couldn't resist a teasing jab, her observation laced with humor yet not entirely devoid of truth. "Lovesick more like it," she scoffed, her comment hanging between them like a challenge, prompting a momentary flicker of amusement to dance across Rhys's otherwise somber features.

Nesta’s words, though teasing, unwittingly mirrored the turmoil swirling within Azriel, a turmoil stemming from his unvoiced feelings for Y/n.

Amid the group's subdued atmosphere, Y/n took the initiative, her concern for her friends sparking into action as she decided to fetch water and some food for the table. Once she was out of earshot, Rhys leaned in, his voice low, "Remember when I said she's very forgiving? Well, Y/n is a bit possessive over letting others use her things." Azriel paled considerably.

Upon returning, Y/n placed the food down with a gentle smile, announcing, "I'll find Mor to say goodbye before I have to leave."

Nesta's questioning gaze prompted Y/n to share a bit more about her plans, revealing her Sunday brunch with her father. It was a tradition, yet one that held mixed feelings for her. Rhys, catching the underlying sentiment, ventured cautiously, "First time since you're back...any welcome presents?"

Y/n's nod was accompanied by an eye roll, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and resignation. "He'll probably gift me a pen, as always." Then, leaning closer to Rhys, she confided in a whisper, "He still thinks I don't know his assistant keeps buying them." Their shared laughter, though tinged with sadness, was a brief respite from the tension of the evening.

As Y/n waved goodbye and made her way through the diner, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily on Azriel's shoulders. Rhys’s earlier statement now mixed with what he had just heard father gets me a pen…hates sharing… 

The pen he had intended to return to Y/n, now in Elain's possession, wasn't just any pen; it was akin to a token of her father's affection…

He was so, so doomed. 

If Azriel thought he was mortified before, well, it couldn’t be compared to now. His current stakeout, crouched in the dense foliage outside Elain and Nesta’s apartment, felt like a scene straight out of a spy movie—only infinitely less glamorous and with higher stakes. 

After searching the entire night for the pen, he realized that you really were Rhys’s friend, the resell prices he found made him want to throw his computer out. But even if he could afford it or request Rhys for help, it seemed that the version you had was sold out. He didn’t even know they made limited-edition pens, let alone ones of this price, were they made of gold? he thought pulling up the product description….set with a pearl…Oh.

Well, that led to his current predicament, knee-deep in the bushes outside Elain and Nesta’s shared apartment. Given that he had borrowed Nesta’s key, which was carelessly strewn on the table of his and Cass’s apartment, he knew she wouldn’t be back for a while. The problem now was getting Elain and it seemed Feyre out…which was why he had texted Rhys an SOS. 

As he waited, hoping that no one noticed him acting like an absolute creep, he finally saw Feyre pulling Elain out, something about a project with Lucien? 

Whatever, that wasn’t important now. His phone buzzed in his pocket with an aggravated all-clear from Rhys. He knew he owed him and Feyre a lot…and technically Elain and Nesta too. The plan was simple: get in, find the pen, get out.

He had been to their apartment before, but always with the company of someone else, usually Cass when he went to pick up or drop off things for Nesta. It felt…eerie being here alone, and he tried to ignore how much of a creep he felt looking through their things. Yet, despite his efforts, the pen remained elusive, a realization that sent a wave of panic crashing over him.

Mother above, where would one keep a pen?? He checked the various surfaces in all the rooms, he checked Elain’s desk, her vanity, and even her bedside table….he looked at the bathroom counters and even scanned through Nesta’s room. As he debated how many more boundaries he’d cross by opening the drawers, his phone buzzed again, with a text from Rhys, feyre said it's with her *crying face emoji* *crying face emoji*...

It’s with her…it’s still with Elain?! The words echoed in his mind, a mantra of frustration and defeat.

Needing to escape the claustrophobia of his failure, Azriel abandoned his search, the apartment, and any pretense of dignity he had left. He found himself wandering aimlessly, feet leading him through the city's streets with no destination in mind. Hours passed, his thoughts a tangled mess, until the financial center's impersonal skyscrapers towered over him, indifferent to his turmoil.

It was there, amidst the steel and concrete, that a familiar voice pierced through his haze of self-reproach. "Azriel?" Y/n called out, her presence like a beacon in the dimming light. 

She emerged from a store, the elegance of her white lace blouse and black slacks contrasted sharply by the vivid red purse she carried. It was the bag she swung from behind, adorned with the same white flower symbol as the pen, that captured his attention, a silent testament to the reason for his current state.

Azriel was at a loss for words, his surprise at seeing her mirrored in the way she regarded him. “I’m surprised to see you here, what are you doing?”

Caught off guard and scrambling for an explanation, Azriel mumbled something about needing a walk, a half-hearted attempt to mask his real reasons for being there. 

Y/n's gaze held his, a hint of curiosity mixed with understanding flickering in her eyes. "A walk that led you all the way here?" she asked, her voice soft but pointed.

Azriel felt the inadequacy of his answer hang between them, an invisible barrier he wished he could dissolve. "Yeah, it's been one of those days," he admitted, his voice trailing off, the truth of his statement more profound than he cared to explore.

Y/n studied him for a moment, her intuitive eyes reading the layers of unsaid words. Then, breaking the tension with a smile that seemed to light up the dimming city around them, she said, "Well, in that case, I could use a bit of company. I was about to grab some coffee. Join me?"

Azriel hesitated, the weight of his earlier mission pressing down on him. Yet, there was something about Y/n's offer, an earnest simplicity, that cut through his reservations. "I...yeah, coffee sounds good," he finally said, not surprised at his own eagerness.

Seated in the cozy enclave of the coffee shop, with bookshelves brimming with tales and plants that whispered of care, Azriel found himself enveloped in a warmth that the stark lines of the financial district rarely offered. The glow of the setting sun, filtered through the tall windows, bathed Y/n in a soft light, casting her in an almost ethereal aura. Her laughter, light and easy, filled the space between them as she caught his look of pleasant surprise.

"This place isn't quite the corporate café you were expecting, is it?" Y/n teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Azriel chuckled, nodding. "I was expecting somewhere... more stiff. This is a nice surprise."

Leaning in, Y/n shared her secret with a whisper, "This café is my little escape. Not many know about it here. But trust me, the coffee’s unmatched, and you have to try the food."

As Azriel began to protest, not wanting her to treat him to even more, his stomach betrayed him with a timely growl. Y/n’s laughter rang out again, full and genuine, just as an older lady approached with their order. "Here you go, dear," she said to Y/n, then turned to Azriel with a warm smile. "First time I've seen her bring someone. You take good care of her, okay?"

Y/n’s protest that they were just friends, and really just classmates, did little to deter the lady's knowing look, leaving her a flustered shade of pink as the lady departed. Y/n then explained to a bewildered Azriel about the café's significance to her, a place discovered during times she'd rather forget waiting in her father's stark office, with the building being down the street. 

As they shared the meal—Y/n insisting Azriel try her favorite sandwich and a tart chosen especially for him—Azriel marveled at her attention to detail, at the fact that she'd noticed his fondness for blueberries. "How did you know?" he asked, his heart aflutter at the realization that she paid him such mind.

With a shy glance away and then back, Y/n admitted, "I noticed you always carrying around blueberry bars. It's the little things, you know?"

Azriel, moved by her attentiveness and kindness, found himself unworthy of her attention. How could he let her remain ignorant about his transgressions, and watch her smile and laugh with him? But he also couldn’t bear to let her go, not when she made him feel things he thought he’d never be able to. Azriel decided then and there that he would admit his faults and then he would beg, he would plead for her to forgive him, or at least continue to talk to him, after he returned the pen from Elain. And if she refused, then he would accept it, but he would grovel as much as she allowed, if only to not lose the smiles that she sent his way. 

"I... I don't deserve your kindness," he confessed, his voice a whisper of turmoil. "Because I'm a thief."

Y/n's eyes widened, confusion and concern mingling in her gaze, "A thief?" she echoed, her head tilting slightly, inviting him to explain.

Azriel's words tumbled out in a frantic cascade, a confession spilling forth about the pen, his failed attempts to return it, not knowing her name and the catastrophic mix-up at Rita's that saw Elain inadvertently receiving what he thought was Y/n's treasured possession. "I know it was a gift from your father... I'll get it back," he assured her, his heart sinking as he prepared for her to walk away, to maybe throw the coffee in his face, for the soft warmth of her smiles to vanish.

But instead of anger or disappointment, laughter bubbled up from Y/n, rich and unrestrained. Azriel lifted his gaze, bewildered, only to find her smiling, her eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. It was a moment Azriel wished he could freeze and live in forever, were it not for the fear of her next words.

From that dreaded black bag, she produced a sleek box, emblazoned with Mont Blanc, and Azriel's heart sank. This was it, the moment of reckoning. He half-expected her to reveal a price tag that would make his eyes water, a reminder of his foolishness. Instead, Y/n unveiled a pen, its body a dance of blue and white lacquer, sparkling with what he could only guess were jewels.

Y/n shared a piece of her past with him then, her voice soft and nostalgic. She spoke of her younger self, who found more joy in the worlds of books and art than in the dry texts of study. 

"I used to collect colored pens, fancy ones that made writing notes less of a chore," she explained, gentle laughter threading through her words. She revealed how her love for calligraphy had blossomed from there, a passion she had hoped would catch her parents' attention.

The story took a turn Azriel hadn't expected. "For every achievement, every missed event, every return home, I got a pen. I thought it was my father remembering my words, but," she chuckled, shaking the elegant pen in her hand, "it turns out it was his assistant who remembered. My father doesn't even use fountain pens."

She waved the decorative pen with a flourish, proclaiming it beautiful but utterly impractical. "They're more for show than anything else, the nibs aren’t even correct for the type of stylized calligraphy I enjoy. I still keep them, just locked in a drawer at my apartment. But for everyday use, I stick to the rollerballs from Mont Blanc. They're just easier."

Y/n paused, eyeing him with a playful curiosity. "The pen was pink, wasn't it?" At Azriel's nod, she continued, "I swapped that one with a friend. Not really my color, but she wanted to exchange it for a white version that wasn’t available abroad.” 

Azriel nods, still caught in the whirlwind of his own confessions and fears. 

She shrugs lightly, her gaze drifting down to the black box, "Mont Blanc treats me too well and sends me many extras because I’m on their VIP list due to my father’s assistant. I don’t mind, though. It’s nice to know they’re going to someone who appreciates them."

Azriel's mind races as he tries to process this. The pen, the source of so much turmoil, was just one of many to Y/n, an item of little consequence. Yet, feeling a sense of responsibility, he insists, "I’ll get it back for you. It was yours, after all."

Y/n's response is a gentle wave of dismissal. "You don’t need to worry about it, Azriel. You didn’t steal it. I told you to return it whenever you wanted. I just...hoped it would make you think of me." Her voice fades, a note of melancholy creeping in as she turns her face away slightly, hiding the vulnerability in her eyes. "I guess you didn’t, though. Do I bother you, sitting next to you in class?"

The earnestness in her question, the raw hint of insecurity, pierces through Azriel's defenses. He reacts instinctively, his words tumbling out in a rush to bridge the gap his silence had created.

"Bother me? Y/n, you’ve been...I’ve been trying to find the words to talk to you since you first sat next to me. You don’t bother me; you distract me because...because I think you’re beautiful."

The confession hangs in the air between them, a fragile truth that sends a blush creeping up Y/n's cheeks. Azriel's heart pounds in his chest, his earnest declaration laying bare his feelings.

"So, friends?" Y/n ventures after a moment, her voice steady but her eyes searching his for an answer.

"Friends," Azriel agrees quickly, too quickly, perhaps, because what he really wants to say is so much more. "But, I'm hoping for more than that," he added under his breath, a vow to himself as much as to her.

Y/n's smile in response is shy but hopeful, a silent agreement to the unspoken question hanging between them. In the quiet of the café, amidst the scattered pens and the remnants of their past misunderstandings, they find a new beginning.

A/N: The pen Y/n received above! So, I have no idea where this story was meant to go. I just had the idea to write about Azriel doing something silly because he was so distracted by a crush, which became him unintentionally stealing a pen. After all, I have an obsession with pens due to the same reason Y/n said...And then this spiraled a little too much into my own uhh grievances with pens, calligraphy…and uhh parents. ANYWAYS, I hope this made you all laugh and fyi Mont Blanc does make great pens, I highly recommend their roller balls and fountain pens, though some are so extravagant I can’t imagine ever using them. 

[aventurineswife]

I was just eating rice cakes and ramen and I thought of something silly where uh you know that spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp?

If you don’t well um basically I had this idea where Reader takes Dan Heng out to dinner at some hole-in-the-wall they found in Aurum Alley and it’s basically uhhhhhhhhhhh a plate of noodles (could be outworlder spaghetti, could be stir-fried noodles, could be kimchi ramen and rice cakes like what I’m having, anything that has long noodles).

And of course they’re eating from the same plate because the serving is pretty dang large for just one person alone, and also because staff is like 😏 They see those two, the subtle gestures Dan Heng and Reader make towards each other (Reader nudging some ingredient over for Dan Heng to have, and reverse) are not so subtle to staff.

And then of course, the accidental ✨ spaghetti kiss~! ✨

They try to eat some noodles at the same time and gently nibbling on the same noodle not noticing how close they are to each other until it’s 💋

Dan Heng: *blushing & flustered* 🫣

Reader: *absolutely head empty from the kiss* 💖😶💖

Ohhh my god this is adorable. Just imagine—

You take Dan Heng to this cozy little restaurant in Aurum Alley, the kind of place that’s always packed but has the best food. The two of you get a massive serving of noodles (maybe a stir-fried noodle dish with all sorts of toppings), and naturally, you decide to share. The staff already clocked you both as something the moment you walked in, and they’re definitely side-eyeing with knowing smirks.

It starts small—nudging a particularly juicy piece of meat toward his side of the plate, him quietly pushing the mushrooms toward you because he remembers you like them. It’s subtle, but not subtle enough. The staff is watching.

And then, the fated moment. You both grab some noodles at the same time, too caught up in conversation to notice the single strand connecting your bites. You chew, he chews—until suddenly, there’s no more noodle left to chew. Just his lips.

The moment your lips touch, it’s like time freezes.

Dan Heng pulls back immediately, eyes wide, ears bright red. He looks completely stunned, like his brain just short-circuited.

Meanwhile, you? Absolutely gone. Just sitting there, heart hammering, mind blank, because—you just kissed Dan Heng.

There’s a beat of silence. The staff, who totally saw that, are barely holding in their laughter. One of them definitely nudges the other.

Dan Heng clears his throat, trying and failing to look composed.

“…That was… unexpected.”

You, still absolutely stunned: “Uh-huh.”

And then you both just awkwardly go back to eating, avoiding eye contact, pretending like that didn’t just happen. But the tips of Dan Heng’s ears stay pink for the rest of the meal.

[taistelutaide]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 25000 likes!

Dreamland

Anton's rival Tuomas sent him to straight dreamland in brutal fashion, but all Anton is dreaming of is... massive, cocky, Alpha man Tuomas.

"You liked that didn't you?" He grunts. "There's more where that came from. Probably more than you can handle." He smirks.

Anton can't take his eyes off the man, making a tent of his trunks as he tries to make sense of the irresistible urge to rip them off and show Tuomas just how much he liked it. 25 000 likes? No. More. Way more.

More than I can handle, he blissfully recollects as the blow by blow of their fight surges through his mind, the rippling of Tuomas's muscles, the power of his fists, Anton shivers, submitting to the waves of sheer ecstasy that wash over him, through him, Ohhh fuuuuuu... He thinks, recalling the blinding flash as the knockout punch connects, and Tuomas's stunning, cocksure face the last thing he sees... his lips so close he could almost taste them... Anton succumbs... cums... cums...

"...Cleanup on aisle three... oh man that's a lot of... you might want to bring a bucket..."

Anton hears the amused and impressed voices of the paramedics echoing, as if far away... he's still too blissed-out to notice or care.

He drifts off, returning to land of dreams... the most intense dreams he's ever had... all of Tuomas... until the morning sun wakes him up, aching all over though still in one piece... but disappointingly alone.

[summ]

there’s this mac repair store across the street that has looked abandoned for several years, we’ve never seen anyone go in or come out, and the storefront has a pastel fade. we used to joke that it was some kind of front. how can this business possibly still be afloat if there are never any cars in the parking lot? a couple weeks ago the marquee went from blank to “for rent” and then piles of stuff started showing up in the parking lot, free for the taking. my friends went over and started picking stuff out: oscilloscopes, lava-proof suits, and all kinds of nerdy stuff. i was mostly curious if they had any old crt monitors and lost interest when i found out they didn’t. this is me admitting to being childish and foolish. because holy shit. the person who ran this place and was apparently living there was mark slater, the developer of holovid

i’m sure that means nothing to you, as it did to me at first. let me back up for a second and talk about these:

silicon wafers processed into holographic images. something my partner had collected from the pile across the street. upon writing this i still haven’t seen them in person because my partner is sick and i’m away. on this one you can see a harry s truman quote “fire the son of a bitch” along with an image of his hat. i’ve always thought holography was neat but this particular thing didn’t hit with me so i didn’t think much of it at the time. along with this, though, my partner found thousands of dollars worth of blank silicon wafers. we both had dollar signs in our eyes, without any real idea of how to sell them. last night, my partner sent me an ebay listing for a unique-looking holographic one that had been set into a necklace, and based on the description they had surmised that it was one of the wafers taken from the lot. it was listed at $24.99, which i immediately felt was too low. that’s art! i love a good 3d art. and you can wear it?? i told them, “man i wish you would’ve picked that one up!” and in response they sent me a photo of small box of a whole collection of them. they sent me a close-up image of one of the “blank” ones, which actually had a small etching of code (or something - i’m still trying to figure out how all this works) on it

my partner sends me an image that was tacked onto the ebay listing of a booklet called “printed holograms by bluebell” that they had seen when they were at the parking lot, and were told had been found in the recycling bin. a whole how-to book on creating holographic art with a weird new technology. it was by mark slater, who developed a “measuring instrument” for…. spaceships? when i see the photos of the booklet in the ebay listing, i realize they look photocopied and i think, ohhh whoever was into this stuff was just inspired. how silly of me to think i had been living across from mark slater this whole time. my partner then sends me a photo of a wide cylinder of (presumably) holographic film, still sealed and says “wonder wats on it?!”

and now i’m all a-giggle. i start doing some research on how to develop this weird thing, but i don’t even know where to begin. while i’m doing my research my partner sends me photos of some other things they picked up, mostly floppies, mostly of the same sort of thing, but they all say “slater”/“m. slater”/“mark slater” with a copyright symbol and i’m like, “wtf did this guy know slater or something?” and my partner is like, what do you mean… it is him? i’m kind of stunned now and my partner goes on to say that they saw him all the time, and he looked just like the guy in the author portrait of the booklet. meanwhile, my best friend has been web-searching him and found an online document detailing a dispute he had with the city of tacoma over a piece of land. i’ll link the full document (ctrl f slater) because it is absolutely fascinating, but my main takeaway was the bit towards the top, where he talks about the shipping containers outside of his mac repair store

i wish i could’ve met the guy

will update if we ever get this film developed :-)

(oh while i'm here i wanna include a really useful excerpt from one of his complaints)

[kallistoriae]

30 pages into the emperor of gladness and ohhh this is what it looks like when Vuong actually writes prose. on earth we’re briefly gorgeous is one of my favourite books and part of my love for it is due to its fragmented structure, so i think it’s a stunning work, but i believe Vuong also chose to write it like that (non-linear, fragmented, pieces of thoughts and stories, heavily metaphorical) because of his familiarity with poetry, and a discomfort with prose. this new book reads so different, outside of a comfort zone maybe, it’s actual prose; the writing is beautiful, more fluid in a way, it’s not trying to be impossibly filled with complex literary devices, sentences flow together instead of forming a collection of masterful but somewhat disconnected paragraphs (which i love in OEWBG, but still), it’s maybe more honest/direct. the change is obvious even on the very first page. it’s something new from him (even if his style is still recognisable, and the first sentence of the book is pulled from night sky with exit wounds), and it’s interesting

[ofeliaxoxo]

cuando no haya nadie cerca ⭐️⭐️ would just love your directors cut/any additional thoughts you have on this verse and this installment in particular

(also yeah i think a lot of us want to fuck toto wolff a little. unfortunately. honestly just put me in a threesome with him and susie)

I lowkey need toto badly im not even sorry that man is hot. He’s tall he’s fit. He strides around w his long legs and his white shirt. He always has some ridiculous quote. His eyebrows can do sign language.

OKAY on to the fic discussion. I will just spew some thoughts and hope some of them are entertaining. I’m absolutely copying exactly how to do a “directors cut” from other people’s blogs so hopefully I get it right.

This got long as hell so be warned...

Alex segment.

“Hello, Alex,” Charles is saying, in this highly suspicious way, guilty and evasive like a dog Alex has just walked in to find destroying the couch cushions.

For the whole rest of this universe we have either had Charles or Carlos pov, where everything feels so intense and serious. But in this fic we see both of them from other povs, and they become...not sillier exactly because i'm not trying to make fun of them, but we're seeing them in the eyes of people who haven't gone through this whole journey. so it's not as fraught, there's space for Alex to lightly mock Charles.

They flew to Singapore together and he was in a state the whole way, moody and withdrawn, largely monosyllabic despite Alex’s best efforts to jolly him along. It was unlike him. He’s normally good company. 

“What is that guy’s issue, oh my God,” his girlfriend had asked him afterwards, “I thought he was super nice?”

We get this scene from Charles' own pov in the original fic, and I wanted to show from the outside that at this stage in the story he really was in a state. And in his own narrative he has the plausible deniability of maybe he was acting normal on that flight, partly because he's quite wrapped up in his State by then. So he doesn't altogether notice. He originally tells us that Alex's girlfriend is nice and easy to get on with but then now she tells us he's a piece of work lol

Max F segment

This segment originally would have been the whole fic. I was going to write the whole evening, and have it be focused on jealousy. I realised I was getting nowhere with it and didn't want to force myself so I just posted the little vignettes instead.

He would never say it, but the difference is Charles is a real famous person, actually acts the part, glacial and stunning. He walks into a room and you feel the, like, aura.

I've never seen Max F and Charles interact but I do feel like I would enjoy it if I did.

Charles doesn’t do that. He’s kind of pointy and smooth. French. Things slide off him.

This is the issue in the original fic as well. Charles is opaque to those around him, much more so than he assumes himself. He's kind of asking himself, why is Carlos being so odd, without making the connection that his own actions and demeanor don't always match what's happening inside.

A bit galling, for Charles Leclerc to look so mugged off to have to sit down and talk to you for five minutes at most. He’d wiped that off, though, and put on this friendly act, all ohh, how are you guys, ohhh Max what do you do for work. Max gets what Lando means about him being fake. 

Max, panicking about lighting up in front of him even though they were on the terrace and if it bothered him it was his problem, offered him a fag. Charles, all snotty, had said I don’t smoke mate thank you. 

Lando came to his rescue then, you dickhead you literally do cocaine. 

“Very rarely,” Charles had flushed, rolled his eyes, “and it’s not as bad for you.”

Both Max and Lando are interpreting Charles quite meanly here. Not on purpose, but he's coming off a certain way to them which isn't actually fair. Like he and Carlos are telling people, he knows how important Lando is to Carlos, the whole situation is new to him, he's making the effort to be friendly, he genuinely doesn't smoke. He's nervous! But they just think he's a dickhead. I guess I wanted to try to simultaneously show that Charles can be intimidating/difficult to deal with/easy to misinterpret, while also showing that Charles is just a person slightly out of his depth trying his best to rise to the situation without showing vulnerability. And I did want him to seem a little vulnerable in this segment despite himself.

“Tu veux que je reste encore? J’ai essayé mais ils m’aiment pas du tout, là.” 

“Ok, querido, t’inquiète, on rentre tôt.”

“J’ai rien dit, je te jure, c’est pas ma faute,” low private murmur

I just like the idea of them having their little private conversation, and I also like the idea of them working on and improving their French/Spanish skills for the sake of their relationship. But I also wanted it to be Charles attempting to escape into privacy in this public and uncomfortable situation. He needs Carlos to know it's not his FAULT they don't like him but he's also a little aggrieved. And Carlos is trying to be soothing because he sees what the others don't.

“Since my boyfriend speaks French,” Carlos answers mildly. Charles does a pleased little smirk and sips Carlos’s glass of wine.

I just love this part and can see it so clearly. It's the most self-indulgent part I just like it. Charles is like Well So There You Assholes. So RUDE To Me But I'm His BOYFRIEND And What Are You.

“Well, you are English,” Carlos replies absently, eyes widening a second later when he notices what he’s said. Charles cackles, openly delighted.

The same Bastard instinct which is why they can vibe but the difference is in the masking.

Carlos segment

This one is kind of almost outsider pov which is why I thought it fit. Like Carlos is watching them through the video. I also just love the idea of them saying I love you for the first time completely by accident over something inconsequential.

He still hadn’t looked at Carlos and Carlos still hadn’t said anything.

Their entire problem lowkey.

I wanted it to be that they're more settled, they really love each other, but there is still a hint of fragility and carefulness. But at this point, Charles has openly said it by accident which would have been absolutely fatal for him in the original fic, and now he's able to reiterate and go look I Do love you. so they're both learning to just trust each other and trust that their feelings are reciprocal and ok to voice

[draw-ren-draw]

Avantris Comic Scripts #3 Often when I get ideas for comics, I break my panels into scripts first. These are less prose-y than fics but still contain dialogue and basic interactions. This is a jokey followup from the concept of my last one, be sure you're up to ep:56 to avoid spoilers!

Shaky Origins (spoilers up to ep: 56!) [A snippet exploring how Torbek may have met Carnival Lecroux based on my favorite theory: that The Duke/Gorebek is the original inhabitant of their shared body and it is Torbek who came second. A lot can happen to an cursed amnesiac. Especially around Carnival LeCroux.] * * * * *

It's a pleasant sunny day near Carnival LeCroux where a Bugbear stumbles out of the brush, blood on his hands, matted fur, drink on his lips and not a single thought in his head. In his claws he tightly grips a piece of torn parchment with chunks of it missing. He squints at it, willing the foreign characters to make sense. He can't remember a thing! Where is he? How did he get here? Who... is he?? He feels like he should be able to read this but the letters don't quite look right. They dance in front of his eyes as he desperately tries to pick out any of them. He points at each in turn, sounding them out. They almost seem to say something like… "Torr... Bek?" He murmurs it again and stares deeply at the writing. Parchment taking up all of his focus, he wanders forward into the carnival proper.

???" You there? You one of mine?"

The bugbear holds the paper, paralyzed as he tries to form one coherent thought, but all that comes out is the last thing he read. "T-T-orbek…?"

Kremy grimaces, smelling the boozy breathe on the bugbear, almost regretting his choice to interact with them at all. Kremy: "Ooh, you reek. You must be one of mine. Listen, what did you say, 'Torbek?' That your name? Whatever, look Turkbek just go use those long arms of yours and get those patrons down." With a wave of his staff, he gestures to the oval-shaped legally distinct 'herris' wheel that has clearly broken down full of riders. Kremy: "Drink break is over." Utterly stunned and still unable to get a grip on reality, the bugbear can do nothing but follow the alligator ushering him toward the broken down ride.

It doesn't take the bugbear long to fulfill the order and he tries again to collect himself as he stands amid the bustling carnival, confused once more. A Tabaxi comes jogging up Frost: "You, you're.. Torbek, was it?" The Tabaxi squints at something he has written on papers.

"Torbek.." the bugbear shakes, wide eyed, trying to cling to the one rational thought he can. So much is happening--!! Frost: "..Right, listen, Kremy just needs you to fill out these forms, I don't care if you don't have a resume, but all the new hires need to." Frost shoves the papers into his hands, continuing to hurry to the next pressing task in his clearly full day. He points one last time before he departs. Frost "Come turn them in later-!"

Hand now full of employment pages, 'Torbek' stumbles, starting to wander again. Who are all these people?? This paper says his name is Torbek, so is that his-- He walks past a goblin, who is manning a small stall. Gricko: "Oh hey! Kremy Finally hired another goblinoid! That's nice, always been waiting for that. Anyway it's me lunch break, gotta get a goblin surf n' turf if you know what I mean, ohhh I'll catch ya later!" He laughs, clapping Torbek on the back and shooting finger guns Gricko: "Thanks buddy!" Left alone at the stall, the bugbear sits down, ignoring everything but the papers in front of him. Undeterred his customers just help themselves to his game. He checks the paper again. It has Torbek on it. Is that his name? It must be, everyone else seems convinced of it! He takes a deep breathe, confirming it for himself with a nod. "…Torbek i-is. Torbek." ???: "Torbek huh? I've heard of weirder" He looks across his stall to see a tent of clowns, Chuckles shoots the bugbear a knowing look and gestures at the state of him. Chuckles: "More like 'Torn-bek', in more ways than one! Ah-hoho-hah! HEHhhheh... workshop it…" The Clown mumbles, stopping to write something down. Gideon enters from the right, we hear him before we even see him "Man, I hate walking past the clowns." Gideon: "Hey turkey or whatever!" The Bugbear jerks in place. "Come on, Kremy needs ya." With a groan, 'Torbek' follows obediently. It seems his day is not going to get any easier... * * The camera pans out * * From afar, a figure watches the once proud and ruthless Duke of Iron and Glass meandering around some shitty carnival like an absolute fool. Something had gone very wrong, or very, very right.

Bonus joke panel of Gid and Krem 'ironically' shacked up, chilling after hours: Kremy: I don't know how you pick em gid but at least you got a new hire this time. Gideon: [Internally] Huh did he? He must have, he was just that awesome.

[sephirthoughts]

Vincent Got a Phone

Vincent got a phone and then Aerith adopted him as her friend, and all kinds of other shit started happening and he's very tired.

ships: valenwind, background sefikura, background aerti

rating: not explicit yet but soooooooo close

Chapter 5: Shut the fuck up, Sephiroth!

“Wait, wait! Everyone calm down! He’s not here to fight! I asked him to come!”

This elicited stunned silence from the group, in which the sound of Cerberus’ hammer clicking back rang out very clearly, followed by Vincent’s deep voice.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Of course I’m going to explain,” Cloud said, trying not to stare directly into the triple barrel, that was now trained on him. “Sephiroth and I have been…talking. He wants to turn over a new leaf. He doesn’t want to be our enemy, anymore.”

“What the hell do you mean, he doesn’t want to be our enemy!” Tifa demanded. “Like that’s something he gets to decide?!”

“I know things have been complicated between us and him, in the past. That’s why he has something he’d like to say to everyone. Go ahead, Seph.”

The angelic, silver haired, six-foot seven-inch tall, black leather clad man stepped forward. “I am very…” He glanced discreetly down at a slip of paper concealed in his gloved palm. “Sony.”

“No—sorry!” Cloud whispered, elbowing him in the side. “You’re sorry!”

“Sorry,” Sephiroth corrected.

Tifa stared at him. “You’re…sorry. After everything you’ve done, you’re just fucking sorry?! You killed my father! Cloud, he killed your mother!!”

“Tifa, please, just hear me out,” Cloud said, in a conciliatory tone. “I know better than anyone what he’s done. That’s why you’ve got to trust me. It’s complicated, and I know it’s hard to understand, right now, but it really wasn’t his fault. He’s just as much a victim in all this as we are.”

“Oh, he’s a victim, is he?” she retorted. “Then who the fuck is the culprit!”

“Shinra.” Everyone turned to look, in surprise, because it was the normally reticent Vincent, who had now spoken for a record-breaking third time, in a single conversation. “When Hojo did this to us—made us into monsters—Shinra not only allowed it, they condoned it. They knew he was committing atrocities, and they stood by and watched, just like they always do. Because they will do anything to grasp more power. No matter who they have to destroy, to do it.”

“Exactly,” Cloud nodded. “The rest of you haven’t been in that place. You can’t imagine what it’s like. And what they did to me, doesn’t even compare to the torture they put Vincent and Sephiroth through. That’s why…I’m going with him.”

“Going with him, where?” Aerith asked. “What do you mean?”  

“First, we’re going to make Hojo pay for what he’s done. He’s responsible for destroying countless lives. But at the end of the day, he’s still just a cog in the machine. After we deal with him, we’re going to take Shinra apart, piece by piece, till not a single brick is left standing. I know this is sudden, and probably seems totally out of the blue, so I don’t expect anyone to help us. But…if any of you want to come with us, I’d be grateful for it.”

Vincent lowered his arm and holstered Cerberus. “I am willing put aside past grievances and cooperate with you, for now. Shinra owes us a debt of blood. I will see it repaid.”

“Well, shit. If Vinnie’s in I’m in,” Cid sighed. “If you’re lookin to take down Shinra, y’all are gonna need a ride.”

“Thank you, guys,” Cloud said. “I knew I could count on you.”

Sephiroth dipped his chin, to Vincent. “Thank you, father.”

Vincent silently returned the salutation.

“Father??!!” exclaimed everyone else except Aerith, who said, “Ohhh. I totally see it.”

“Uh…Vinnie?” Cid asked, uneasily. “Why’s Sephiroth callin’ you father?”

“Because he’s my son,” Vincent replied flatly, still looking across the table at Sephiroth. “But I didn’t know he knew that.”

Yuffie made a face. “So you…with his mother?”

“No. They used my genetic material, without my knowledge. Sephiroth was told his parents were dead. He was raised in a lab, like a specimen. Systematically isolated and tortured, brainwashed into a living weapon, and set loose to commit war crimes, at the age of fourteen. When he learned the truth about his origins, he had a psychotic break, and under the influence of Jenova, defaulted to the only thing he’d ever known: violence.” Vincent turned his crimson eyes on Tifa, one flashing with a hint of gold. “Given that context, Ms. Lockhart, would it not be fair to say that perhaps, he is not entirely culpable for what he has done?”

Tifa lowered her head, biting her lip in anger and frustration, and Yuffie wrapped comforting arms around her.

“Look, I don’t expect anyone to process all of this, instantly,” Cloud spoke up. “I know it’ll take time to accept. But I asked you all here tonight, because I didn’t want to keep hiding this part of my life from the people I care most about.” He slipped his hand into Sephiroth’s and they interlaced their fingers. “I’m not asking for your blessing, but it’s important to me that you all know where I stand. Because Sephiroth and I are—uh. We’re…together.”

“Oh, ho ho!” Aerith chortled, whipping out her phone to type something on it.

“Ah-ha! That’s why I seen ya goin’ into that love hotel!” Cid asserted, swaying in his tipsy vehemence, but finding himself immediately steadied by a gauntleted hand on the small of his back. “You two musta been meetin’ up, on the sly!”

Cloud looked his way, unhappily. “You were spying on us, Cid?”

“Tch. Hell naw. I don’t have time for that shit. I was mindin’ my own business and I saw ya standin’ right there on the street, out fronta the place. Y’ain’t exactly easy to miss.”

“Tell me one thing,” Vincent said sternly (with his arm still around Cid’s waist). “That night at the Mega Karaoke. You didn’t fall into the door, at all, did you?”

Cloud laughed sheepishly. “Uh. About that. We thought that was our room. Seph was being kind of…playful and pushed me inside. When he saw you guys he poofed, so you didn’t see him.”

“Wow, you two were in such a hurry to get down, that you mixed up the rooms?” Aerith smirked.

“It’s not like it was our fault! That karaoke place should be prosecuted, what kind of assholes have a room 8B and a room B8? What is your numbering system, even?”

“Well, damn,” Yuffie remarked, raising her eyebrows. “Cloud really recruited a world-class supervillain for team good-guys, just like that. How good is that bussy?”

“How good is what?” Vincent asked, looking alarmed.

Aerith giggled gleefully and kept tapping her phone screen.

Tifa was still glaring at Sephiroth, who didn’t appear to notice, likely because his serpentine eyes hardly ever left Cloud.

Cid was rubbing his stubble, thoughtfully. “Does this mean Cloud’s gotta call Vinnie father-in-law now?”

“Never,” Cloud said.

“Please do not,” Vincent said at the exact same time.

“This is fucked!” Tifa shouted, giving everyone a second jolt. “You’re fucking mentally ill, Cloud! This guy is a mass-murderer!”

“Why are you acting so shocked about it?” Cloud asked, frowning. “You’re the one who said you already knew all about us.”

Tifa faltered, taken aback. “I what?”

“That day I ran into you and Yuffie, hiding behind the flower cart. Don’t you remember? You pretended it was a hypothetical, but you said your friend was dating someone who was bad for them and might get hurt. You told me you saw us together, and everything.”

“I wasn’t talking about you!” Tifa said, practically beside herself with exasperation. “I was talking about Aeri and Mr. Valentine!”

Aerith looked up from her phone, wide-eyed. “Eh? Who and who??”

“There’s no use pretending anymore, Aeri!” Yuffie said, pointing a righteous finger at her. “We saw you with Mr. Valentine at the Mega Karaoke.”

“Uh…huh,” Aerith replied drily. “Well, to be fair, you actually saw me with Cloud and Vincent.”

“I saw you and my father alone, together,” Sephiroth interjected. “You were embracing one another.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sephiroth! This doesn’t concern you!” Tifa fired back.

“Yeah, and stop calling Vincent your father, it’s weird,” Yuffie poked her head out to add, then ducked back behind Tifa.

Vincent, meanwhile, had withdrawn his arm from around Cid, and was standing there looking stricken. “You…you all thought that Aerith and I were…together? Cid? You too?”

Cid scratched his head. “Uh. Well, ain’t ya?”

“I confessed my feelings to you, three nights ago,” Vincent said, lowering his voice. “Do you believe I’d have done such a thing, if I were attached to another person? What kind of man do you think I am?”

Now it was Cid’s turn to look gobsmacked. “Y’did what, now?”

“I told you how I feel.”

“Well…yeah. About Ms. Aerith. Didn’t ya?”

“About you! You rejected me. You told me you’d support me but you needed time. You seemed upset and you left rather abruptly.”

“That’s cause I thought you were talkin’ about bein’ soul mates with that little girl!” Cid said, throwing his hands up in vexation. “No offense, Ms. Aerith.”

“Well, offense taken! A lot of offense taken!” Aerith returned, planting her hands on her hips. “You all thought Vincent and I had something romantic going on? And no one even bothered to ask us about it??” She turned her flashing green eyes on Tifa and Yuffie, who flinched visibly. “And I bet it’s all because you two troublemakers started meddling, and confused everyone.”

“In our defense, it was all Tifa’s idea,” Yuffie declared. “She bullied me and made me go along with her crazy scheme.”

Tifa looked theatrically offended. “What?! You shitty brat, I barely bullied you at all!”

“So, thanks to you two and your little witch hunt, Cid and Vincent think they’ve been rejected by each other,” Aerith continued. “And along the way, you managed to scare Cloud into coming clean about his actual secret affair, so now we all have to sit here, watching him be lovey-dovey with mommy-issues mcdoomsday, right in front of our salads! No offense, Sephiroth.”

“None taken,” the heretofore extremely volatile superhuman replied, causing everyone to turn and look at him in disbelief. He straightened up and crossed his arms on his impressive chest. “I thought it was funny. Also, a fairly accurate characterization.”

“Aeri, um…about the Mr. Valentine thing,” Tifa ventured. “We didn’t just pull that out of thin air. You two have been in each other’s rooms a lot, lately.”

“And going out together in public a lot, too,” Yuffie concurred.

“And, again, I did see you embracing in the karaoke room,” Sephiroth put in helpfully.

“Shut! Up!” several people said to him, in unison.

“Yes. I admit it. I was hugging my friend. Fucking sue me!” Aerith retorted, growing surprisingly heated, to the point where her eyes began to glisten and turn pink at the rims. “Girls who are just friends can hang all over each other, all day long, but people suddenly become such puritans, when it’s a man and woman! And just for your information, Ti-chan, you should be more concerned about me going into your room, than Vincent’s! Because I AM A LESBIAN!”

With that, Aerith kicked a chair out of her way and stormed off.

“I’ll…go talk to her,” Tifa said, and hurried after her friend.

“I think we, as a group, need to work on our communication,” Cait Sith said sagely, from the chair beside Cid’s.

“Gah!!” Cid yelped. “What the—where the hell’d you come from?!”

“I’ve been here the entire time,” the feline automaton said, sounding wounded. “The rest of you noticed me, didn’t you?”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, in which everyone (except Sephiroth) suddenly developed an engrossing interest in the carpet or the ceiling tiles. It was into this bewildering atmosphere that the waitress descended, like a suspenders and bow-tie clad angel of mercy, with her notebook and a jaunty smile. “So, how are we all feeling about entrees, this evening?”

Thus it happened that our motely assortment of weirdos (minus Aerith and Tifa) sat down to an awkward, but relatively congenial supper, with the man who’d been the primary antagonist in most of their lives, for the past several years, at least.

If they had any suspicions, however, regarding their erstwhile arch-enemy’s real motives, they were at least somewhat allayed by the disgustingly adoring way he focused on Cloud, as if the young man were his sun and moon, and he could see nothing else.

Cid and Vincent, meanwhile, mostly drank in silence (whiskey based cocktails and red wine, respectively), because whenever they did speak, they kept bumbling and being over-polite to one another, in their mutual discomfiture. Pretty much everyone was relieved when dinner was over. Except Sephiroth and the cat, who seemed entirely immune to embarrassment.

“So, Sephiroth,” Yuffie said, eyeing the monumental man cagily, as the party strolled out of the restaurant. “Are you still, like, batshit insane?”

“Yes,” Sephiroth replied. “But I am…working on that.”

“Are you planning on killing any of us?”

“No.”

“Bearing in mind that destroying the world counts as killing us.”

“I have given up global genocide,” Sephiroth said, glancing at Cloud. “My lover is rather attached to this world, as it turns out.”

“Welp, good enough for me. As long as I never have to hear you say the word lover again, welcome to the team,” she pronounced. “With you on our side, we can totally rail Rufus Shinra’s ass!”

“Seriously, work on your phrasing, Yuff,” Cloud groaned. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“Huh? What did I say? Cloud! Get back here!!”

“So, uh. We probably oughta talk,” Cid said to Vincent, after they separated from the others.

“I suppose we should,” Vincent agreed, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Shall we go to the hotel garden?”

“Or we could, uh…we could go to my room,” Cid mumbled. “Y’know. Have a cup of coffee, or whatever.”

Vincent paused, scrutinizing him closely. “Are you still drunk?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Cid admitted, flushing pink, under his crimson gaze. “That’s the only reason I got the balls to be talkin’ to ya, right now.”

Vincent arched a black eyebrow. “I trust you are aware what asking a gentleman back to your room for coffee implies.”

“Tch. We’ve shared rooms about a hundred times, Vinnie. Am I supposed to be worried you’ll think I’m a slut?”

Vincent’s crimson eyes glowed a little more intensely, but he looked away quickly, to conceal it. “Coffee it is, then.”

They were already at the walkway intersection, between their two rooms, so Cid led the way, as casually as he could pretend to be—which was to say, not very. Vincent was always just his buddy Vinnie, to him. He fit in the Vinnie category and did Vinnie things, and that’s how it was.

Now that he was looking at his friend from a different perspective, he was suddenly, keenly aware of Vincent as a whole entity, outside their friendship. As it turned out, Vincent Valentine was an extremely intimidating man.

Before he became an actual monster, Vincent had already been a highly trained killing machine. Underlying his general aura of somnolent malaise, Cid was aware of the cold calculation and hyper-competence of the Turk.

Physically, he was a superior specimen. Tall and slender, but agile and astonishingly fast. Despite his ostensible indifference, and tendency to fall asleep standing up, Vincent’s whole being was suffused with quiet ferocity. Cid had seen the man snap out of his apparent ruminant state into decisive and deadly action, enough times to know that Vincent’s languor was a predator’s grace. Like a panther in repose.

And all of that was before one took into account the literal demon under his skin, looking out from that gold ring in his crimson eye, awaiting its moment to burst loose its bonds and drown the world in darkness (which idea Cid found a lot sexier than he probably should have).

His hands shook with nervousness as he unlocked the door, so much that he fumbled and almost dropped the key. But miraculously, he managed to recover, and they got into the room without him making any more excessively embarrassing blunders.

Cid’s room had a sort of steam-punk aesthetic, somewhat like the inside of an airship. It featured exposed brass pipes and other unnecessary but interesting embellishments, and the bedframe had been constructed from the actual fuselage of an old plane.

It had those awful, modern, overhead lights, too, but at the moment, it was lit only by the two lantern-style gas lamps on the wall, on either side of the headboard, so the illumination was warm and diffuse, and not troublesome to Vincent’s eyes.

Vincent took a seat on the distressed leather sofa, in front of the steamer trunk, that served as a coffee table, while Cid set about brewing a packet of hotel-provided coffee in the almost laughably small hotel-provided pot.

“So, uh. About the other night,” Cid began, after he’d placed their mugs on the steamer trunk, and sat down beside Vincent. “I said it already, but I’m sorry for actin’ like a jackass. I misunderstood about as bad as it’s possible to.”

“It was an understandable error, given that there were outside parties interfering,” Vincent replied charitably, blowing the steam off his mug.

Cid shook his head. “It’d be easy to say I had everything all wrong on account of them girls tellin’ me a whole lotta nonsense, but that’s a cop-out. There ain’t no changin’ the fact I made assumptions and didn’t ask ya myself. It’s my own fault. Also, I didn’t know you were…I mean. I never thought to ask, and you never told me. About the, uh. The umbrella.”

“No more umbrellas, please,” Vincent said, with a grimace. “Euphemizing and speaking obliquely is what caused all of this mess, in the first place.” He set his mug back down and looked Cid in the eye. “Cid…I like you. I like you in a romantic, non-platonic way. I’ve never felt this way about a man, and I have no idea how to label or define it. I only know that it is. And it is not a short-lived infatuation, or the impulse of a moment. I have felt this way for quite some time.”

“So…when ya said all that stuff about a person bein’ the missin’ part of ya, and how y’could spend every day with ‘em and never get tired of ‘em…”

“I was talking about you.”

Blood roared in Cid’s ears. He felt his heart pounding and his throat was suddenly dry. He’d thought what Vincent said had sounded a little dramatic and overwrought, the other night, but it struck the ear very differently, now he knew it was about himself. He yanked his goggles off his forehead and tossed them on the trunk-table, then pushed his hands back through his hair.

“You seem troubled by the idea,” Vincent said quietly, from where he’d receded into his cloak, concealing all of his face inside his high collar, except for his scarlet eyes.

Cid scratched his head. “I just…uh. Hoo, boy. I can’t help thinkin’ there’s still some kinda mixup. Y’sure ya like me? Like, wouldn’t you be happier with some fella your own age?”

“Ah. You did mention the age difference as an obstacle, before.”

“I ain’t sayin’ a obstacle per se,” Cid attempted. “I’m just thinkin’ about a few years from now, when you’re a little older. Y’might change your mind about what ya want, and start havin’ regrets.”

Vincent’s black brows knit in confusion. “When I’m older?”

“Well, cause like, I’m in my late thirties. That’s the settlin’ down with a long-term partner phase of life, y’know? You’ll understand once you get to be my age.”

“Cid. I’m fifty-seven.”

“Right, like I was sayin’, when you—” Cid blinked. “Ah…ha ha. I think I’m goin’ deaf, you said twenty-seven, right?”

“I said fifty-seven.”

“What the high-flyin’ fuck you mean fifty-seven?!” Cid sputtered, gesturing wildly with his coffee and nearly splashing it all over himself.

“I mean I’m fifty-seven years old.” Vincent tilted his head questioningly. “You do understand that Sephiroth is in his thirties, correct? And that he is my biological son?”

“Listen, I’m gonna be honest…I figured they grew him up super fast in one of those pods, like in the movies.”

“No, he grew up at the usual speed. Which does mean that I have a son who is nearly your age. The idea of age differences seems to bother you, quite a bit.”

“Oh, that?” Cid waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, I was talkin’ about kids in their twenties, all fresh-faced and dumb as shit, just startin’ out in the world. Who gives a fuck about a couple decades, between old-ass men like us?”

Vincent very nearly smiled. “You only call yourself old because you enjoy thinking of yourself that way. Whereas, I am quite literally an old man.”

“Come on, Vinnie,” Cid chuckled. “Ya can’t say you’re an old man, with that face, and expect me to take ya seriously.”

“Then…you like my face?” Vincent asked pointedly.

“Tch. You kiddin’ me? You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous I can’t believe you’re real, sometimes,” Cid said staunchly, then realized he’d revealed more than he intended, and became shy (and suddenly understood the appeal of having a cloak to hide in).

Vincent scooted closer, his leather armor squeaking against the leather on the couch. Eyes like scarlet embers glowed in the dim light of the gas lamps, regarding Cid with bloodthirsty intent.

Cid rubbed his hands together and chuckled nervously. “You’re…ha ha. You’re lookin’ at me like a hungry wolf, Vinnie.”

“Cid,” Vincent’s deep voice said softly. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Cid swallowed hard. “O—ok.”

He felt the cold claws of a metal gauntlet, as Vincent’s fingertips rested lightly on his cheek, turning his head. Vincent leaned in closer. So close his black hair brushed against Cid’s forehead. He paused. There was a bit of muffled jingling, as he awkwardly unbuckled his high collar. Then lips softer than any woman’s could’ve ever been were pressed against Cid’s.

Whatever he’d thought it would be like, to be kissed by a man—and his best friend, at that—all his preconceived notions were blown right out the window, when those lips pushed his apart, and Vincent’s tongue slid forward to caress his.

Sage-smoke and leather, and a hint of old books. That’s what he smelled like. He tasted like whatever heaven’s made out of. His tongue was domineering and devastatingly skilled, licking and thrusting and rolling over Cid’s, till he was clinging helplessly to Vincent and gasping for breath, between intense barrages.

He felt more like a chaste woman being ravished by a pirate captain in a romance novel, than he’d have liked to admit, but it felt so fucking good. How come no one ever told him how amazing it was to be on the receiving end of a man’s unrestrained desire?

It occurred to him then, that he could touch Vincent, too. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, it was just that, to lay entirely unworthy mortal hands on this divinity seemed almost blasphemous, so he hadn’t yet worked up the courage.

Steeling himself, he slipped a hand around Vincent’s narrow waist and kneaded the small of his back. To his utter astonishment, Vincent threw a knee over and straddled him, settling his weight on his lap, decisively closing any remaining space between their bodies.

Emboldened by this spectacular result, Cid worked his fingers into Vincent’s heavy, silky hair and tugged gently. Vincent moaned into the kiss and let his head move easily, at Cid’s direction.

Cid’s brain short-circuited, unable to process a reality in which Vincent might like to have his hair pulled. He tried again, a little harder, and was rewarded a breathy gasp, along with feeling that lithe body shudder against his.

The tables turned, then, and Cid was the aggressor, holding Vincent by his hair, invading his mouth, licking and sucking his perfect, pale lips, kissing him like the world was ending.

At long last, Vincent broke the kiss, leaving Cid overheated and dizzy—and so hard he could barely think. A clear thread of saliva stretched out between their lips and snapped, as they drew back, just enough to look at one another.

Vincent’s long, almond-shaped eyes were hazy and heavy-lidded, and his crimson irises were glowing, nearly all gold. His parted lips were wet and swollen, and very slightly flushed. The tip of his tongue traced over his elongated fangs.

“Ha…holy fuck, you’re beautiful,” Cid panted, sliding his hands up onto Vincent’s hips. “The hell you doin’ fuckin’ around with a scruffy bastard like me?”

“Beautiful,” Vincent murmured. Then he stiffened, staring into the middle-distance. The golden embers in his eyes dimmed and darkened. Seeming disoriented, he pushed himself up from Cid’s lap and stumbled back a step, nearly tripping over the steamer trunk, and upsetting a mug of coffee, in the process.

“Vinnie? What’s wrong?” Cid asked, confused and alarmed by this abrupt reversal.

“I—I can’t,” he said hoarsely. His eyes darted around manically, but didn’t seem to focus on anything. “It’s not your fault. I thought I could, but…I just can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, wait, Vinnie hang on,” Cid said hastily, jumping up to stop him. “Don’t run off, let’s talk—”

It was too late. Vincent had already dispersed into a whirl of crimson and vanished.

“—about it.” Cid gave a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God…fuckin’ damn it.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY cat cameo!

one more chapter to go!!!!!!!!! will our intrepid heroes resolve their problems and go to pound town???? (yes they will)

link to prev. chapter

[gattobamboom]

Your mirror piece is STUNNING!!!!!! Are you planning on selling prints? I would love to buy one! 🙏❤️‍🔥🙏❤️‍🔥🙏❤️‍🔥

Ohhh, thank you so much, I'm so glad! 💖 I don't sell prints, for many reasons, but the main one is that people from abroad won't be able to pay for these prints, I live in a shit hole.

[emotionally-creative-rogue]

DOMINATION LINES!!

THANK YOU @caramelcheesegay FOR COMING UP WITH 90% OF THESE, ILY<333

DOMINATED:

Scout:

-“Can’t stun me if you can’t hit me! I’m a freakin’ blur, dipshit!”

-“I am ALWAYS gonna dodge that. When will you LEARN, man?”

-“Oh, oh, oh! I’m STUNNED at how bad you’re doin’!”

Soldier:

-“Don’t swing your puny stick at me, maggot! You come from fake America!!!”

-“I AM IMPERVIOUS TO ALL OF YOUR ATTACKS, SYRUP-SLURPER!”

-“Get off the battlefield and go play some hockey, weakling!”

Demo:

-“Aye, I bet you thought it’d be easy ta kill me, didn’t’che? Well, iaarrghhnnn *snore*.”

-“You call tha’ a grenade?? Me blind Mum farts worse than that wee thing!” 

-“Don’ come a’ me in those ghoulish boots lad, I’ll blast ‘em right offa yer feet!” 

Engie:

-“You’re just a little piece a’ sentry fodder now, aren’t’cha?”

-“You make for some real shitty target practice, son.”

-“Tell me ‘bout those stun grenades sometime, yeah?”

Heavy:

-“Ha! Leetle bug man is crushed. Like bug. Leetle bug. Feed you to Archimedes, Buggy.”

-“Small jumpy man- not Scout? There are two small jumpy men???”

-“You think loud noise and bright light are enough to take down Heavy??? I am killing you now!!”

Medic:

-“Oohoo! Free organs! Young, too!”

-“Ach, that reminds me- I need to feed my birds.”

-“Ohhh, sorry little boy! Go play with your crayons, ja?”

Sniper:

-“Piss off, y’ jumpy git. Bloody grasshopper…”

-“Awh, get quicker next time, won’tcha?” 

-“Dead like a ‘roo on the side o’ the road!”

Spy:

-“For someone named ‘The Rogue’, you are certainly a pack thinker.”

-“Oho! I am *stunned* by your lack of skill!”

-“Not so *Dexx*trous now, hm?”

DOMINATING:

Scout: 

-“No runnin’ in the halls, freshman!”

-“Bonk? More like thonk, eh? ‘Cause that’s the sound your hollow head makes when I hit ya!” 

-“Hah! Too slow!” 

Soldier: 

-“Y'know, a 3" piece of rubber can do a lotta damage, Trench Monkey!”

-“Hah! Oh, I mean- I'm sooo soooorey aboot tha', Bud! (snicker)”

-“A cat on a sloped roof is braver than the entire U.S. Military, Booklicker!” 

Pyro: 

-“Ack! Sorry, Firecracker!” 

-“Oh shit, I think I’m still on fire. Damn it, these were my favorite pants!” 

-“Hey we're, uh, still on for s'mores later... right?”

Demo:

-“Pen's mightier than the sword, cyclops! Get it? 'Cause I'm an artist and you- yeah, nevermind”

-“Someone must have put a little sleepy sauce in your mickeys, bud, ‘cause you are NOT on top of it today!” 

-“Smile and wait for the flash!” 

Heavy:

-“Somebody order ten thousand pounds a’ dead weight? (Snort)” 

-“It’s really hard to miss your pressure points, y’know.” 

-“Move it, ya big lug! You’re in the way!” 

Engineer: 

-“GRENAAAAAADE! I WIN! Ya proud of me, da-uhhh.. dude?” 

-“See ya round, Daaaeengie! I said Engie. Short for Engineer. That is you. You are- I’ll go.” 

-“Bam! And another one down, and another one down! ANOTHER ONE BITES THE BO STAFF!!” 

Medic: 

-“oohohoh, Maybe I can try some experiments on you this time!- Y'know, put your lessons to good use!”

-“Doc, you seriously gotta take care of your health. Damn hypocrite... (Mocking voice) 'Do az I say, not az I do!' my ass!”

-“Guess that's what happens when you don't follow your own advice, thanks for the hands-on lesson!”

Sniper:

-“There, away from the noise now! Just how you like it, Dee!”

-“You may wink at your opponents, but ya gotta take the shot as well, y'know! Can't charm 'em to death!”

-“I just... un-cozied your... camper. I'm having a bad day please be nice.”

Spy:

-“Crisse de connard! -Aheh, not used to gettin' berated in your own language, eh?”

-“Va te faire foutre, merde de con!”

-“Bein Tabarnak, it feels good to turn the tables! Hah, deserved!”

Taunt ideas:

-Using the Bo-Staff as a microphone

-Using the bo-staff as a rifle(making fun of sniper)

-Juggling the stun grenades, almost dropping one and catching it in time before glancing around to see if anyone saw him and putting them away again

OCS:

DOMINATED:

Strat (@emotionally-stressed-strategist):

-“How are you this bad? I’m dominating you with a PEN, Rogue, A PEN.” 

-“Rock, skull. Man down.” 

-“One less dot on the map- don’t come back, yeah?”

Arrow (@emotionally-dead-archer):

-"Hah! Gotcha! Oh, gotta love a little sibling rivalry, am I right?"

-“Bigger sibling? Not really.”

-“Hey! My aim is getting better! Thanks for the target practice!”

DOMINATING:

Strat:

-“I’m done bein’ your wingman if you keep this up.”

-“That’s what happens when you steal my art supplies!”

-“How do you still not have ink poisoning? Dude, seriously.”

Arrow:

-“There! I make for a pretty good role model! You get to see my stuff first-hand!”

-“You're adopted. Sorry.”

-“I think it's almost bedtime, kiddo.”

Jet (@emotionally-broken-robot):

-"Hey, uh, does this count as Softwaregore?"

[stylesispunk]

https://www.instagram.com/enstatia?igsh=MWJ6bGVwdzkycDd0bQ==

Here is the artist of that pic I sent. Finally located her on IG. Her profile says feel free to post with credit. Anyway, just wanted to follow up. Loving the fic. You are very talented!!

ohhh I just saw this too hahah thank you so much for sending me the profile of the artist. It's a stunning piece of art 🥹 and thank you for your words, so glad you're enjoying the fic<3