#talented cinnamon stroll

[chaithetics]

The Muse

Pairing: Laurent LeClaire (In Secret) x plus size f (afab) reader Word count: 2.6K Warning: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (f receiving, are we surprised?), and unprotected piv, pwp honestly! Reader is plus size but there's no other physical descriptions beyond that 🫶 A/n: Nobody asked for this but I have serious brain rot, please enjoy! Yeah, I know the title sucks, sorry. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Please validate me beautiful people🫶

The way Laurent painted made you feel seen in a way that you never had been before. His large, deep brown eyes seemed to have the gift and curse of seeing a soul for what it really was and capturing it naturally onto the campus. You couldn’t help but hold your breath under his gaze, it was only each time he blinked and you were able to appreciate his full, long lashes that you remembered breathing was more than encouraged. 

His paintbrush glided across the canvas, he’d blended the right colours to perfectly capture your glowing skin, radiant he thought. You weren’t the first person, or even woman, that he’d painted before. He’d painted many, many portraits of dreary souls but yours wasn’t one of them. Your face wasn’t begging to be shadowed in dreary greys, he wanted the most vibrant greens. 

That pretty smile of yours made him think of pleasant summer strolls in nature, how he’d love to sit down by a tree with you and then take you, he knew your face would only light up more when approaching an orgasm. It was something he had to see. Something he had to feel. 

The way he painted made your cheeks heat up, you’d never seen a man pay such close concentration to a task before, it was impossible to not feel like it was a compliment as he studied and compared your full cheeks to the one on his campus. You wanted to feel his lips on you as he thought about how soft your round cheeks would feel under his fingertips. 

He painted with his mouth slightly agape, every now and then you’d spot his tongue poking out as he carefully looked at the canvas and then back at you, analysing every feature, appreciating every curve. It was criminal that your family was putting you in this position. Sure it sounded nice in theory, paying a talented young artist to capture their favourite child in a piece of art. But it was beyond impractical, leaving you unsupervised with him, some would call that improper. 

So it was only natural that your cheeks heated up and that his gorgeous brown eyes made butterflies flutter around in your stomach and made your heart turn into one of a hummingbird. He was devilishly handsome, talented, and Laurent had waltzed into your family’s estate feigning humbleness and polite manners that you’d seen through immediately. 

You didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him and you wouldn’t have been able to throw him far at all. But you also wouldn’t be able to deny any sparks, or him, even if you didn’t want to. He was a womaniser without a doubt, you could see that but you still couldn’t get over what he was doing to you. 

“Tilt your chin to the left, just a tad.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts, it felt slightly stilted as if he was measuring over his words. You obeyed and tilted your chin slightly to the left. 

Laurent nodded approvingly and stepped closer, his soft looking curls bounced slightly as he approached you and you wondered how soft his brunette locks would feel in your fingers. “You look quite perfect in this light, more so than usual.” He says softly as he places his fingers on your chin and looks at you reverently. He admires how the light of the afternoon dances on your skin, how your soft lips look and how your skin is as soft and warm as he’d imagined, dreamed of. 

You tilt your chin without his aid to look up at him, you look at the lines of his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the perfectly tousled curls, the bridge of his nose, he’s handsome and you feel yourself holding your breath as you look up at him and his big brown eyes of cinnamon and other warm spices meet yours. 

His fingers lightly trace over your soft jawline, he watches your face as he does, you gasp and feel your cheeks heat up as you feel the electricity meet you from the pads of his fingertips. If there was a candle to light for desire, he’s already lit it. 

“You’re a pretty one to paint and an even prettier one to admire up close.” He says as his fingers start to trace back up to your cheek, Laurent lets out a shaky breath as he feels the smoothness of your plump cheeks, his fingertips lightly trace down to the edge of your lips.

“Do you mind?” He asks softly, his eyes are blown out though as lust starts to take over. 

“No,” you whisper looking at his eyes and watching as his pupils expand, “not at all.” 

It’s all the confirmation he needs, his fingers trace over your full lips, they’re just as soft and as warm as he imagined. 

“Is this part of the painting process?” You whisper, trying to break some of the tension that’s threatening to make you explode on the spot. Laurent’s fingers feel your lips move and he smiles at the sensation and watches your mouth shape out each syllable. 

“No, no it’s not.” He smiles at you and puts his other hand to cup your cheek, he smiles wider as you lean into his touch naturally, almost instinctively. “It does help to… Explore a muse’s body, but this… This is for me.” He whispers and while you’re seated in front of him, he leans down to kiss you. 

There’s a bump of noses, the kiss isn’t perfectly smooth, it’s a strained cord of tension being pulled and sparks flying as his soft lips crash into yours. They’re pillowy and you love the feeling and taste of them against yours, you love this and you need more. 

You knew this would be deemed improper but you were getting to the point of lust taking over and not caring. You knew that you technically could be caught, but this was to be expected right? You were left to be painted by this handsome man, completely unsupervised. 

You put a hand up to run your fingers through his silky curls, he lets out a groan against your lips as you do. You smile and feel your cheeks heat up at the sound of his delicious groan and open your mouth up for him. Laurent dips his tongue in and slides it against yours. 

Laurent deepens the kiss as your tongues dance with each others, and he pulls you up from your seat with his strong hands on the back of your waist. He keeps his hands there as his thumbs rub small circles over the fabric of your dress. 

You walk with your hands in his hair, revelling in the kiss as he guides you down to the chaise in the room to lean back on that. You gasp out against his lips and he nips your bottom lip slightly with another delicious groan. Each noise he makes only turns you on more. 

Laurent then drops down he looks at you as he pushes the layers of your heavy skirts up to your waist in order to expose you, he needs to taste you. He looks at your face, seeking a confirmation that this is what you want, this is what you need. You nod your head frantically. 

“Yes…” You whisper, eager for his touch. 

“Good.” He whispers. 

You’re an incredible muse, one he plans to worship. 

Laurent brings himself down to your legs, he runs his hands over your thick thighs for a moment as he lifts one up to over his shoulder. His eyes focus on your heat, you’re already visibly aroused and wet which makes his eyes light up and another musical groan comes from his mouth. 

A line of kisses is sprinkled along your inner thigh that tickles and makes you gasp and squirm slightly before Laurent reaches right to your core, he wastes no time, he can’t, you look too divine to tiptoe around indulging in. He needs this just as much as you do. 

His mouth dives in and your back arches as you feel him immediately lap up at your heat and he moans against you as he does, it just makes you moan out and shiver. 

The vibrations from his moans against you are heavenly, you close your eyes and put your hands into his hair. Running your fingers through and gripping as his tongue circles your sensitive bud, his tongue moves frantically to create the perfect sensation and he keep moaning against you. You can’t help but cry out and tug his hair which just pulls out another sweet song of moans from him. 

Laurent grips your thigh of the leg that’s over his shoulder as he keeps licking you frantically, with his free hand he slowly slides his index finger into your wet hole, you’ve done a perfect job of lubricating his finger as your entrance eagerly swallows him before he even has the chance to start pumping it. 

You gasp and cry out and you feel your eyes roll back at the added, new sensation of his thick finger inside of you. You keep one hand rooted in his hair while the other comes out to cover your mouth to try and muffle your cries of pleasure. 

This reaction only spurs Laurent on as he looks up at you while he continues, he presses his face against you more and starts to suck on your little, sensitive bud, you gasp out and thrust your hips up to try and meet him, desperate for more friction. Laurent groans against you and starts to grind desperately in his position as he keeps lapping you up and moves his finger, curling it to meet that soft, spongy part of you inside that feels like heaven. 

As his mouth passionately continues and his finger touches you in just the right way, your back arches and your eyes roll back and you gasp, desperately flailing your hands to reach some part of the furniture to grip onto as you feel yourself reach the top of that mountain and come undone because of him.

It’s an explosion that leaves you breathless, after a moment you let out a shaky deep breath and pant. Laurent’s satisfied with his work of bringing you undone, he stops grinding and licks up your sweet, tangy orgasm gently and then moves to adjust himself. 

“You taste heavenly,” he whispers in awe as he looks at you with wide, lust-blown, dark eyes. He brings his slick finger up to his lips and sucks your juices off of it slowly, savouring the taste. You gasp at this and feel your cheeks heat up even more. 

“That was… I don’t even have words for that…” You whisper as you look up at him. 

Laurent chuckles almost bashfully, there’s something charming about you, hypnotising and he can’t just walk away now or resume painting you without feeling you. 

“I need… I need more…” He whispers as he looks at you reverently and caresses your cheek. 

“Well I want more… So it sounds like we’re quite the match.” You whisper with a smile as you watch him.

He chuckles and then immediately undoes his trousers, he adjusts himself and you bite your lip as you see his thick member for the first time. 

Laurent positions himself and slowly sinks in, your mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape as you moan out at the full feeling of him slowly sinking in. He lets out a soft whimper as he feels your warm walls swallow him up and squeeze him lightly. You’re perfect. He feels so at home like this. 

Laurent watches your face as he enters you, the sounds of your moans only ignite him further and he closes his eyes and he waits for a few moments, giving you time to adjust to the sudden fullness, the feeling of him. He then starts to slowly move his hips and your eyes open wide and you let out a moan as he does. It’s heavenly. It feels so right, like your bodies fit together perfectly. 

You let out a whine as his pace starts to increase, he moves his hips rhythmically, you’re sure he must be a true artist, dabble in music as well because of the way he moves. There’s no other explanation you think as your back arches pressing you more into him and he smiles at the feeling, his hand running along your cheek as he moves with passion and affection. 

His pace has increased, his hips move quickly and you whine out. He moves with need, a need that only you can fulfil. You tilt your head slightly as he thrusts into you and kiss him, your lips meet together in another messy kiss of wet, soft lips dancing against each other and vibrating with the other's moans. 

The kiss breaks when he thrusts into you deliciously and makes you cry out, your head falls back against the chaise more and your back arches as you’re overcome with pleasure. The angle of his movements hits you in the most pleasure-inducing way. 

Laurent moves his head down, presses a soft kiss to your throat and then groans into your neck as his hips move quicker, his soft lips leaving a wet spot, it’s a sensation that would tickle in any other circumstance, any other circumstance that doesn’t have him buried in you. The few calluses on his hands are from paint brushes, despite the fact that he’s atop of you, socially he’s below you, but he still hasn’t worked a day of manual labour in his life. His hands are delicate and blend the greatest scenes of pleasure in your body. 

His careful hands move to interlace with yours above your head as he continues to thrust into you, his eyes are squeezed shut as his hips roll and he groans, he’s getting closer. Laurent leaves open mouthed kisses all over and the feeling of his hot breath on your throat makes you gasp each time. 

There was something truly divine about seeing you in the throes of passion, it made his length twitch inside of you as he groaned but it also inspired him. Inspired him to paint. He wished more than anything that there was some way for him to simultaneously take you, fuck you, make love to you and to also paint you at the same time. He would rather die than have somebody else give you this pleasure and for him to paint you, but he also wouldn’t trust another artist to be able to do you justice if they watched you two together. He’d have to take breaks between fucking you and painting you to try and achieve his vision, something he had no issues with. 

Laurent watches you and squeezes your hands slightly as his hips move more sporadically and he becomes more out of breath, he’s just a few more thrusts away from reaching his orgasm. He groans out and whimpers as he gives you that final thrust and spills into you, you squeeze him and his eyes blink shut tightly as he orgasms. 

His breath is shaky as he comes down from that high and he looks down at you, below him. He knows that only the beautiful muse of the woman below him would be able to give him that kind of pleasure. He won’t complain about that though, that’s the type of realisation an artist like him could dream of.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: O Captain! My Captain!

A/n: A slightly alcoholic cultural revelry in the warmth atmosphere of the O'Connell's family ends in a totally uncultured way. Billie relaxes and gets drunk, pestering you almost at the table. Finn looks too excited when he hears the notification sound on his phone and looks at Claudia. Later you find out that these talented duo have made a crazy bet.

"As far as I know," Patrick sips the drink with a funny sound and the amber column in his glass drops slightly after a sip, and the cinnamon wand sticks into his gray mustache like a straw, - "this drink came to be called 'rum on three waters,' or 'grog,' after Captain Old Grog, a nickname given to Vernon for his habit of strolling about the deck in bad weather in an old waterproof cape. "

"I didn't know you were so into alcohol, Mr. O'Connell." - you grin good-naturedly and twirl the cinnamon stick like a spoon, creating a small alcoholic tornado in the cup: the swirls of fruity berry tea mixed with golden rum are mesmerizing, making you stare for a few seconds before returning your gaze. A warm smile plays across Patrick's face as he looks at you, blue eyes sparkling with gratitude for your interest.

"Please, just Patrick." - the man gently corrects you and you nod in agreement. Eh, it's all the fault of your boundless reverence.

"And not so much the alcohol as its history, my dear," Maggie returned from the kitchen with a careful, soft step and stood next to Patrick, who immediately put his arm around her waist. It certainly adds to the comfort. As does the presence of a beautiful woman like Maggie in general. - "There's that traditional Irish trait about him. Will you help me, darling?"

Patrick nods in agreement, assuring you of his imminent continuation of the story, and the parents retire back to the kitchen to tackle the long-awaited tofu turkey, another of Maggie's proud culinary masterpieces. It looks like it's about five minutes away from being fully cooked, at most.

You hear a new chirp notification opposite and without hesitation turn your gaze to Finn, continuing to observe: the red-haired man grabs the phone from the table abruptly, and after recognizing the contents of the screen becomes even more flighty, staring at Claudia with a mute question. You literally see humped question marks appear above his head, almost getting tangled in slightly overgrown copper hair, to which the girl responds with an innocent smile.

"Guys, is something wrong?" - you put your cup to the lips to take a generous sip, but you nearly choke on it, coughing as you feel a sudden tight grip on your right thigh.

A sharp turn of the head and you meet head-on with the source of your mild asphyxia: cloudy drunken lights flash in Billie's blue eyes, accentuated by her cheeky grin.

"Careful, my girl." - Billie gives you a gentle pat on the back, and then shifts her gaze to Finn as if nothing had happened while her hand slowly slides down already on the inside of your thigh, keeping some decent-to-non-decent distance. - "Yes, brother, you look very... excited."

Finneas buries his face in a glass, almost with his nose, and all the secrets of the universe are concentrated in the amber surface of the grog. He doesn't even look at Claudia now, but for some reason it seems to you that the blush on the guy's cheeks and ears has become clearer. Perhaps alcohol is to blame for everything. A new notification bell and an attack of your asphyxia is already transferred to him, and the role of the rescuer is Claudia.

"I'm fine," he awkwardly picks up a few drops of diluted rum with his palm from his short red beard. Several images of the pirate aesthetic immediately run before your eyes. - "Just... can't let go of thoughts of the turmoil of the day."

"Relax, it's just a regular night out with your loved ones, right?" - Billie's heated voice is pleasantly husky, and you twitch slightly, catching the sudden goosebumps of arousal. And it's not just her voice that's to blame, it's also her cheeky palm, which has slid deftly from your thigh to the zipper of your jean shorts, playfully yanking the lock tongue down just a couple of links. Fuck! What's going on today...?

By God's miracle, you restrain your emotions of shock and embarrassment, which strive to play out with the whole palette on your face, and quickly intercept her hand, closing your fingers with a bracelet around her wrist. In your mind, you offered up over a dozen prayers to God so that no one would see this movement.

"Billie's right, love, you really should relax," Claudia gently pats her lover on the shoulder with the same perfectly simple-minded smile. But when she and Eilish glance over, you could swear you see some fleetingly conspiratorial, sly spark in her green whirlpools. Eilish herself echoes it. Both of their smiles turn predatory as Fin's phone beeps unobtrusively again, and the guy covers his face with his palms in anguish. You've obviously missed something.

"I'll tell you a little later," noticing your misunderstanding, Eilish smoothly moves closer to you, scorching your ear with an ingratiating whisper. - "In the meantime, I have something for you as well."

She slips out of your grasp in one imperceptible movement and intercepts your hand to place it on the fly of her incredibly voluminous shorts. You feel the hard bulge through the soft fabric and it seems to you in a moment that the chair beneath you will shockingly split on the floor, spreading all four legs in different directions, in pairs parallel to each other. Because you have mentally fainted about three times already.

"Pirate, what the hell is that?!" - you seem to whisper a little too loudly, but Billie even likes it. She only winks playfully and bites her lower lip a little too hotly, hiding it behind her cup when you hear the sound of footsteps from the kitchen.

You try to pull your hand away, but Billie only moves a little closer to you, squeaking the leg of her chair lightly, and springs your hand back. And you don't know what's stronger: your embarrassment at the possibility of total embarrassment in front of her parents, your growing arousal, or your trust in the reckless younger O'Connell. Fuck.

"Here we are!" - Patrick solemnly brings in a tray of flaming vegan turkey to set it on the table.

"I hope you enjoy it," Maggie steps a little behind him, smiling with a note of maternal awe.

"What's so stupid, Mom?" - Eilish drains the rest of her cup and then plops her chin on the palm of her arm bent at the elbow. - "You know you and bad cooking are categorically incompatible."

She sends a warm smile to her mother, then transfers the murky pre-storm seas to you afterward. "Trust me." And you, frothing with excitement, trust. Eilish is your favorite and authoritative captain, guiding your ship through this palpable absurdity of a situation.

Fin's phone pings again.

×××

"That was too good, can I get the recipe?" - Claudia gently pushes her plate away, passing a paper napkin over her lips. You nod in agreement at her remark as well.

"Of course, girls!" - Maggie shone, the word of the August sun: blindingly bright, yet so warming. - "I'll be sure to describe everything to you in the morning, but now it's time for us all to rest."

And you exhale in awe, even though Eilish's hand under the table outlines your knee a little too flirtatiously. What's a kneecap! In these past thirty minutes, Eilish has replaced the biblical Tempter Serpent himself, getting you as hot as she can and can't. She's done everything from playful touching of your leg to overly explicit, lingering strokes of your thigh. She even managed to walk on the very blade: still unzip your fly and slip her fingers inside for a few moments, touching the very epicenter of your heat and tension through the thin fabric of your underwear. You nearly fly up in your chair, held up only by multi-ton shackles of awkwardness and adrenaline. God... Eilish is gorging himself on his third and final cup of grog, chugging from a teaspoon with the most satisfied smile on his lips, and you don't find the moment better. You press sharply on her bulge at the fly of her shorts and she nearly chokes, biting down on the spoon. The blue drunken seas churn with stormy foam, but how sweet is revenge!

And now you're blissfully thinking that the most dangerous stage of dinner seems to be behind you.

New notice. Oh, good lord....

"Son, is everything okay?"

Finneas is the perfect embodiment of a red traffic light, now tousling his hair with his pale hand. All nervous and hunched over.

"Yeah, Dad, I just think I overdid it today."

Billie bounces her fist with laughter and you catch her again, paying for all your patience with her own gold coin: another press and she bites her fist just barely visible to let out an embarrassed groan. You seem to have grown bolder after your second drink.

Patrick steers the conversation slightly into traditional fatherly admonishment, only to then return to the rails of everyday topics. You graciously agree to help Maggie with the dishes, acting as a precautionary measure (if Billie gets up from the table, there's a fifty percent chance that one unfortunate move will be a staggering disaster), but before you do, a small, crumpled piece of paper falls with filigree precision onto your lap. Billie, even under the influence of alcohol, is perfectly aware of her movements.

"I want you. Now." - The slightly smudged letters are eloquent, and her deep-blue gaze is a seal of assurance. You swallow nervously, silently letting out an exhale. Eilish is sure to drive you crazy someday. Would you mind?

"I'll help your mom out real quick, okay?"

And she nods silently, swallowing you whole, completely, in her deep blue waters. Eilish touches your cheek briefly with her hot lips, and Finneas stares at you like he's never stared before. As if you'd committed this smashing obscenity after all and you'd been noticed. Billie nods at him briefly, and a smile of incommensurate pride blossoms on his face, as if he'd won a dozen Grammys and as many Golden Globes. You are mentally ready to add everything, even the Illuminati, to this silent conspiracy, which has bypassed you in its details.

Relief only comes when these two golden talents of the music industry go upstairs with the speed of comets scattering across the sky, albeit not quite sober. You and Claudia stay behind to help, but there's a rush in her movements, too, so similar to yours.

"What's the matter, anyway?" - You ask quietly, grabbing the empty salad bowl from the table.

"Billie took my word that I wouldn't say anything," Sulewski gives a cat-like sly snort, summarizing. - "But... you and I are obviously going to have to be quieter tonight."

And you are sincerely lost, not knowing what to do: to raise an eyebrow in skepticism and break the roof of the cozy house O'Connells or to fall into a new, only now no longer imaginary fainting, embracing the salad bowl.

You finish the rest of the cleaning in silence, floating in your own rapidly changing thoughts, like a lone sailor on a huge Dutch galleon. You emerge from your thoughts only when you hear the creaking of the wooden stairs beneath your feet. Claudia ironically wishes you a "good night" before hiding behind the door of Finneas's old room and you die, burning the carpet beneath you with a mixture of feelings. It's too crazy an evening.

×××

"Now, Pirate, tell me what the fuck this-", you're unceremoniously silenced with a deep kiss, with force and accompanying rumble spurring to the door. A hiss from the painful meeting of your shoulder blades with the white-painted wood and a groan from the frenzy and duration of your arousal mingle together, sticking across your throat. You bite down on her bottom lip with force. Just the way she likes it.

"I'm sorry," her voice is husky and the blue sapphires glistening in the dark, mysteriously clouded with desire and rum, hypnotizing, turning you into a porcelain statue in her arms. You freeze, and she touches your shoulder blades with her hands through the thin fabric of your black shirt, stroking gently. - "Does it hurt much?"

"It never hurts with you," you whisper, your fingers wanting to sink into her tarry hair. The striped bandana immediately slips to the floor beneath your palms, reaching the floor completely silently. - "I want you, and I also want answers to tonight's performance."

"I can give you everything at once," the cold tip of her nose touches your neck, creating an unreal contrast to the hot, plump lips that slide ever so gently down to your collarbones and then back up to your earlobe. You feel the bite, and she presses closer to you, pressing her impromptu, artificial boner against your very needed spot, and you wrenching a strong exhale. - Finn and I have a bet for tonight."

"More details, Pirate," you cling to her shoulders, ready to climb the wall with excitement. Eilish moves mockingly, creating a friction that fogs your mind and dulls your desire for long-awaited answers. Another thrust of her hips and you gag, biting on your fist as she fast pulls your hand away. - "I fucking... need details..."

"We bet which of the two of us could handle arousal in public better, who could hold out longer," she grins as she sees you touch the waistband of her shorts with trembling hands, undoing the knot. The interfering piece of clothing falls off as you both look at it thoughtfully, as if you were watching the jets of a waterfall falling from high above the glistening cliffs. Actually, as expected: in the semi-darkness of Eilish's old little room, the dark straps of the strap-on glisten, highlighting her alabaster skin so well. How she'd managed to never once get caught with such a 'surprise' at fifteen centimeters - the eighth wonder of the world, no less. - "Well, Finn's condition you can see right now."

"And what did you confront him, Pirate?" - you take a few insistent steps, causing Billie to steps back and fall back onto the sheets of her bed with a smile, fleetingly touching the fabric of the open scarlet canopy. You dive in after her, hovering dominantly. The singer's gaze is breathtaking from the sultry and lustful look in your eyes.

"Not even Eilish anymore?"

She slides her palms under your shirt, stroking your waist. The warmth of her hands is so damn relaxing, you're already not even wanting to be angry for detailed shenanigans. Tugs on the bottom button with her fingers, taking a rhythmic route straight to your collar.

"It's not my fault you were sipping rum tea today like the most badass pirate of the seven seas." - You tease good-naturedly as the shirt slides off your shoulders, revealing it for the silver light of the moon from the window and the hungry blue gaze. Equal to her in terms of clothing, you peel Billie's T-shirt off as she obediently raises her arms for comfort. The smirk on her face mirrors yours exactly.

"I decided to keep Finneas' condition a secret for him, so he only realized at the table that I'd enlisted Clau's support," Eilish continued, watching with amusement as you first deftly tugged off her bodice and then personally exposed yourself like a model in front of a talented artist. - "Lucifer bless her multi-caliber concealed folder."

"Wait," you sit down on the bed next to her, knocked off your feet by the incoming information, the facts folding together in your head in a brisk fashion, like outstretched red threads on a detective's cork board. - "Are you telling me he was getting hot pictures of her all through dinner while you paralleled torturing both of us under the table?"

Billie nods slowly, savoring the pleasure of her own splendid prank, and you collapse into a histrionic laugh, finding a pillow with your hand. Remembering Finneas's sloppy exit from the table, pulling the already long edges of his sweatshirt taut, you nearly cry out in a fit of laughter, clutching the soft pillow tighter.

"You're such a bitch, Billie," you touch her lips as she gently takes the pillow back, hovering over you already.

"As it is," a new stroke on your neck, serving as her delicious dessert, setting her back to her former intimacy. Just below, near your collarbones is the slightly crooked scarlet flower of a hickey, eliciting a muffled moan from you. - "Kissing your partner on the cheek is a voluntary admission of defeat. And even though I lost, admit you're impressed."

"Oh, Captain, my Captain..." - you murmur, running your fingers along her ribs. He takes it as agreement.

Her gaze clings to the only thing left on you: blohsh's gold pendant, set with transparent white sapphires that look like stars in the night sky's companion light. Her heartly present. She grabs the pendant, pulling you gently toward her, so as not to break the chain, but you feel such indescribable strength from her in the gesture. Her free hand touches your cheek with all the tenderness she can muster.

"Mine," she whispers fervently through the kisses, your tongues clashing hotly. The tangy karamel, half bitter, golden rum flavor, the slightly stinging cinnamon, - "only mine precious girl. I can't tolerate stand to be around you."

"Only yours, Captain Eilish. Take me on a voyage of a lifetime with you, please."

And she speaks so confidently that you are ready to rip your heart out of your chest for her right now and present it to her in the palms of your hands, even hotter and only hers.

"I'll take you. Pirates always take their treasure with them forever."

×××

You lower yourself onto her strapon leisurely, trying not to make too much noise, though the knot of pleasure inside will soon burn through you like a magical sphere of fire. Billie holds you by the waist, thrusting only deeper, her mysterious night seas staring at you uninterrupted, wrapping you headlong in their warm waters. She burns out your naked body into her memory, noting that your most appropriate attire is only moon white light and nothing else. The rest is unnecessary tinsel.

"You're so flawless," the soft whisper of plump, templed lips is entirely polarized by the roughness of the thrust that follows. Her right palm slides down, smoothing over your pelvic bones, and then she touches your clit with her index finger, thrusting sharply again. You are immediately literally folded in half in an orgasm. And Eilish really can't get enough, she continues, "folding" you over and over like exquisite Chinese origami.

Even when you're off of her, you don't let yourself rest and drop to your knees, unbuckling the strap, peering into her already relatively sober oceans and touching the moist 'petals' with your tongue, taking you leisurely to the very bottom. You're still shaking slightly, and Eilish rumbles, her guttural moans barely audible.

A thump against the night stand and a cursing is heard from behind the wall opposite both of you. Billie chuckles.

"Maybe I lost," she throws her head back, gently pushing you closer with her hand. - "But the temptation is too sweet. And my girlfriend cum first, I won this one, sucker."

She lets out a chuckle, but immediately drowns in a silent moan as you lips press deliberately slow and pressurized. Someone has to teach your captain patience, right?

Eilish doesn't like alcohol, of course, but she definitely likes rum.

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part seven} 3.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

Cheers could be heard down every street in Iloa, the Lions stadium alive, living, breathing, exploding full of love and support, every voice showering down onto the field of ten or so men stretching, throwing around baseballs, or sprinting across the grass.

In the bullpen, the smack of DK’s hundred mile per hour baseball hitting the leather of Woozi’s glove echoed against the walls and carried up to the kids in their matching jerseys dangling their heads over the railings to watch them, calling down for them to throw a baseball up into the stands. Standing on the sidelines, coaches, other starting and backup pitchers, they’d grab whichever ball DK discarded and tossed it up to the boys and girls, watching their faces light up with joy.

A sweet smell lingered in the air, one mixing with that of the savoriness of the comfort foods the boys on the team indulged in after a victory, one they hoped would happen today. Pretzels, soft chewy cinnamon bites, ice cream stands around every turn, every corner of the stadium. Women and men wandered about with bright red shirts on, carrying bins of ice cold drinks, beers, and water bottles, their voices booming through and over the crowds eager to get their buzz on. Fans waiting in line at the stores, full of Lions merchandise, were calling them over, swiping their cards without checking the price, and chugging the can as best as they could before they were allowed to walk through the door. An excellent ploy, get them tipsy and they won’t care what they’re picking up off the shelves.

Bouncing in your black boots, skinny jeans on your legs and a silky custom Lions bomber jacket on top of a bodysuit, you held a water bottle in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Grooving to the music radiating the walls of the stadium, a pop beat from a music group that prided themselves on being the biggest fans of your brother, the cutest group of seven talented boys the Lions were now partners with, you pulled on the elbow linked with yours, accidentally rocking them with you. Sunglasses low on your nose, you turned and smiled. Latched to you tight, elbows locked, Ryujin licked her ice cream and raised a brow.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, letting you rock her to your heart's content as the two of you strolled through the first floor pavilion. “Is this that group DK likes?” 

“The group that DK is friends with?” Correcting her, she smiled and rolled her eyes. “We had a few of them over in the off season while I was home with him, they’re cool.”

Ryujin dodged a man barreling toward the seats carrying one of his kids in his arms while the other ran behind him. “Jesus,” she muttered. “This place is crazier than last season.” Catching the drips of ice cream down the side of your cone with your tongue, you winked to a group of girls around your age staring at you and Ryujin and gave them a wave as you passed by them.

“They need them to win,” you said.

“They need to use manners,” she countered, giving you a look.

Shaking your head, waving to some other people who actually called out your name and greeted you properly, you said, “Then we need them to win. You don’t wanna see these people when they lose.”

Ryujin, having been on guard for your sake since she arrived three days ago, gave the people a stare, not caring what they thought of her. She overanalyzed them all. Back in February, a little over a month ago, when the Mingyu story broke the internet, your name was drug through the mud. You weren’t so innocent either, though you were, you knew what you did, what had happened, but to the media you were a drunken mess homie hopper. 

The photos of Vernon safely placing you into his passenger seat couldn’t even compare to the photos of Mingyu and Daya, taken from far away, not up close like people would do to you when you were dating him. That thought alone disgusted you, that you weren’t worthy of certain boundaries like Daya apparently was, that you could have cameras shoved in your face while you were kissing your boyfriend in a public space, but there she was, on his lap, tongue in his cheek, and the photos and videos were grainy as fuck. 

He couldn’t defend himself. It took about twenty four hours for you to be able to face him, even at the training games they had played the following day you ignored him, sat in the stands with your sunglasses on, arms folded, legs crossed, only cheering and clapping when ‘Now batting, first basemen, Chwe Hansol’ was announced through the stadium. Simply to piss him off, of course. Videos of that hit the internet to no one's surprise, everyone was way too involved in the scandal that almost took down Vernon’s name as well.

The two of you spoke that night, the day after the story nearly imploded your lives, with DK and Vernon on standby, the two waiting in the hallway outside of your hotel room to Mingyu’s demise. Your precious, golden hunk of a boyfriend couldn’t say two words to come back from what he’d done. With grace, somehow, he listened to your telling of how the night went, how he’d acted in front of your brother, and what he’d said to Vernon.

His only reasoning, that wasn’t an excuse to how he ended up with Daya on top of him, was that she came onto him. Loosely believing it, that he didn’t realize what she’d been doing, you let him go with a hug and his thousands of soft apologies for everything he’d been putting you through without realizing. 

That was the Mingyu you used to know, before the money, before the fame got to his head, before he was one of the stars on the team, a huge name in baseball. The nice Mingyu, the one who’d catch onto the things your parents would say and give you a silly look with a roll of his eyes, the Mingyu who once upon time said he wanted to take care of you one day, wanted to give you a life you deserved. 

But, he was all talk. A hug, whispers of I’m sorry, it was as simple as that.

All the mentions of realization seemed to withstand the pressure of the media cracking down on him in interviews, the way people would run into him on the street and bombard him with questions of you, of Vernon, of the scandal, of what he’d done. Every single time he would own up to it. Left within him, though you broke his heart, wouldn’t forgive him, told him that you two did not work together, was the care he held for you. The love he said he had, which out of everything, was the one thing you wholeheartedly believed in.

Protecting your name, defending you, speaking about you with a softness in his eyes only when asked, he at least kept one of his promises. Giving you a life you deserved, a safe one. He gave you your space, he didn’t try to come back, he didn’t fight to hold onto anything, he respected what you had to say, what you wanted, which would’ve driven you mad if Vernon weren’t standing in the hallway, if you didn’t have history clinging to him, love for him. A boy that podcasts and drama influencers alike were calling stupid for involving himself with you, for getting between you and Mingyu, that if you two were to get together after this it’d be a shorter relationship than the one you’ve just come out of.

All the more reason for Mingyu to come out and admit to what he’d done, which in turn, destroyed Daya and Hoshi’s marriage.

Desperately clinging to whatever she possibly could, sloppily throwing stories together, making absolute dogshit up about you, about Mingyu, about your brother, she scrambled miserably to hold onto her husband and the beautiful, wonderful life he’d given her. 

You and Hoshi spent some time together in the days following the break up, bonding in a way you’d never expect. Across dinner tables after days of baseball, he’d sip his beer and tell you story after story about what a witch his soon-to-be ex-wife was. He never meant to marry her, which didn’t make him out to be partner of the year, but when they found out she was pregnant with their daughter he put a ring on her finger and owned up to the new life he was bound to live.

He wasn’t looking for an excuse to divorce her, to escape her, to get rid of her, but he wouldn’t say he wasn’t grateful that this ended up happening. As for his daughter, he wouldn’t give her up for the world, when he spoke on Daya their daughter never came up. It was all her, his now ex-wife, or in the process of becoming ex-wife. He’d always shower Tora with love, would show up for her, and give her the world whether he was with her mother or not. And that’s who Daya became to him, the mother of his daughter, nothing more.

She was the curse of last season after all, the fans had no problem discarding her after Hoshi made the one and only public post to announce his divorce.

In doing so, combined with Mingyu’s unspoken compliance, Hoshi aided in the repairing of your name, of Vernon’s name, and within weeks things started to turn around.

“I don’t like the way some of these people are looking at you,” Ryujin said, holding onto you a little tighter each time someone's eyes spent more than two seconds on you. 

Tugging her out of the way of a family staring at their phones then pointing to the signs above their heads, confused as to where they were going, you yanked her toward the row of stairs leading to the first base line. “Most are fine,” you assured her, pausing at the top of the steps. The man working the row gave you a smile and a nod. “How are you?” Returning the smile, you watched his cheeks blush.

“Fine, Miss Isla, and you?” he asked with another nod of his head.

Looking at Ryujin, then back at him, you nodded as well. “Fantastic. There’s three more behind us, they should-”

“ISLA!”

The high pitched scratchy scream struck your heart. Eyes wide, head snapping to look down at your seats in the first row, you couldn’t help the obnoxious screech that came out of you involuntarily, simply triggered by a glimpse of their beautiful faces. Ryujin slipped her elbow out of yours, accepted the ice cream cone you slapped into her hand, and let you go, discarding the sweets before leisurely following you down the stairs, not running like you were. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, skipping a few steps at a time, “Oh my god!” Heads were turned from the seats slowly filling the sections, you and your sisters shrieks gathering attention like clockwork. Even if you weren’t actively causing a scene, when the five of you were together people paid attention. 

Jumping off the last step into the row, you didn’t even have a second to look at any of them, to mess with the adorable outfits they’d thrown together, you were in their arms and their arms were around you, squeezing you, the four of you lost in whispers and Tori’s teary eyes. When Ryujin made it down the steps she wiggled herself into the middle, her hands grabbing onto three different parts of two different girls.

Aurora, Tori, Yuna, Ryujin, they were here. Once you found out they were coming to opening day you upgraded their tickets, you grouped them in with yourself and made sure they’d be down here on the field with you. It’d been months, and after the last few weeks, you needed your sisters. Partially the reason why Ryujin came days earlier after she’d gotten clearance from a few of her classes. Like DK promised, she stayed in his house with you, she hung out with your brother and actually got to know him for him and not the almighty baseball superstar he was made out to be.

She liked him as your brother more, and DK took to her in the same way. Within three days it felt like you were trapped with a big sister as well as a big brother with how they both ganged up on you, teaming together to tease you like big siblings should while whipping you into shape at the same time. The other three were set to come back to the house with you tonight, staying for the length of the three game series the Lions were opening their season with, and you couldn’t wait for them to spend time with the brother you spent so much time telling them about at Nasara.

“Tor,” you whined first as the group hug dispersed, reaching for her bronzed cheeks glowing in the March sun. Her glossy pout worsened, making you giggle, forcing your thumbs to her bottom lashes to keep her makeup in place. Tori came close to Ryujin in your heart, another trustworthy sister to share some secrets with, to open up to, she matched your try anything once energy, your party loving twin.

Grabbing your wrists, her red nails brushing your skin, she shook her head. “It is so good to see you, Isla,” she said, her voice quiet, half broken. “You have no idea what the hell we went through after you left, what we thought happened to you, it was so scary.”

A smile pricked your lips. “Ryujin throwing a sneaker at Yeji’s head?” Giggles sounded around you. “I heard all about it.” Wiping her eyes, you took her hands in yours and squeezed them, giving Aurora a glance. “I heard about everything.”

“How did you know?” Aurora asked, her observant eyes intriguing your own, the girl always on some mission to know. “You said something to me, do you remember?” Truthfully, no, you did not, and you weren’t at a point yet where you had the balls to admit it. Aurora seemed to catch on quick. “Before any of us knew anything… Caught onto anything, which, we didn’t, you knew.”

“And it cost you,” Yuna chimed in, laying a hand on your shoulder. Giving her and her chocolate curls a smile, you shrugged.

“I’ll be honest,” you whispered. “I thought it was obvious.” The laughter that broke out warmed your heart, thank god.

“Let’s not get stuck on this right now,” Ryujin pulled you out the girl's hands and moved you in front of a seat that looked straight out to first base. “We have a game to watch, we can talk about this later.”

Shuffling around the chairs, deciding who was going to sit where around you, an insane amount of questions were thrown your way, every single one involving Vernon.

“Are you guys dating?” Yuna asked from beside you on your right.

“Were you guys dating before? At Nasara?” Tori asked from your left.

Aurora poked her head forward. “Just so everyone knows, he told me about her first!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Tori elbowed her leather jacket that so obviously belonged to Wooyoung. 

Ryujin threw her hands up, her eyebrows furrowed, the crease in her forehead deep. “I knew the whole time?!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Aurora said to her, the two breaking out into giggles, throwing playful hands at each other. 

Tori rolled her eyes, her fluffy lashes fluttering as she looked between you and Yuna. “These two, I swear they’re on each other more than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Perking a brow, a smirk lighting up your lips, you leaned forward to witness them swatting at each other's hands, giggling like little kids. Yeah, you knew that one. “Ror,” you caught her attention, and Ryujin’s, “You and Wooyoung? Finally?”

She blinked, many times. Tori took her bottom lip between her teeth, her face going blank. “I mean,” she started, shrugging, gaze flickering out onto the empty field. “Something like that.” Confusion filled your face and she smiled, a breathy laugh escaping her. “We’re not putting pressure on anything,” she clarified. “So many big things have happened this year, we just want to… Be.”

You knew that one.

Letting her know you understood her with a smile, you shifted to Tori who just finished taking a deep breath, her eyes fixed forward. “What about you?” you asked her, letting the other two go back to giggling with one another. Yuna listened in to them, paying no mind to the quiet way Tori spoke back to you.

“What do you mean?” she questioned within a whisper.

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “How’s Mingi? Mr Loverman? I miss seeing you guys be you,” you nudged her arm, “Your relationship is my favorite, I yearn to have what you two have.”

“Yearn?” She smirked.

“I know words, Tor,” you said, sitting up straight. Gesturing to yourself, you said, “Haven’t drank in two weeks, I’m remembering words I used to know when I was good at school, I’m tryna use them all, one word a day.”

Her eyes began to shine. “Two weeks,” she whispered. You nodded, feeling proud, keeping your anxiety locked away for the time being. “Isla, that’s great.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, accepting her hand she offered you. “It’s hard.”

“But you’re doing it,” she smiled.

“Longest streak yet,” you whispered, and she squeezed your fingers. “This doesn’t get you out of the Mingi question.”

Her face fell. “Damn it.”

“Don’t tell me you guys broke up?” you asked, and she turned toward you, flustered, her cheeks flushing of color.

“No, no, no,” she whispered as fast as humanly possible, “Not that, we didn’t break up, it’s just…”

“Soul said that!” Aurora’s cackle cut her off, Ryujin and Yuna laughing with her.

Closing her eyes, Tori took a breath before looking at you. “I don’t know how to describe it. It sounds horrible in my head, I don’t think I can say it out loud, if I try I either look like a jealous bitch or a shitty girlfriend.”

Placing your other hand on top of the one you were already holding, you smiled something soft. “It’s okay,” you said. “Thoughts are one thing, actions are another.”

Tori frowned. “I love him, you know I do.”

“Tor, we all know that.”

She glanced away, collecting her thoughts. The booming voice of the sportscaster sounded over the speakers and the now full stands erupted into cheers. “We’ll talk later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face as the Lions were called out onto the field, every person in the stadium leaping to their feet.

Adrenaline shot down your spine, your anxiety pushed aside by the excitement that buzzed within your heart. DK, the first to run out onto the field, shot a hand in the air, waving as the music blasted for their arrival, guiding them to their places on the field. Player after player, they ran out, hands in the air, greeting their fans, searching for their family in the stands, saying hello to cameras pointed their way. The field flooded with love from both players and fans.

Number seven hit the field, cleats in the grass, and your heart skipped a beat. This was it, the first game of the rest of his life. Brown curls popped out beneath his hat, curls you had your fingers in last night from the passenger seat of his car after Ryujin slammed her door shut and hurried up to your brother's house, Vernon dropping the two of you off after a shared dinner amongst friends. He took a second, pausing as the crowd went wild for him and his teammates. Tipping his chin backward, chocolate eyes wide, an absolute look of awe, he turned in a slow circle, attempting to look at every single person, until he found you.

The world went quiet around you, though everyone and your sisters still cheered with every ounce of power within them. A smile lit up his face, one he wouldn’t normally wear so publicly, too much emotion for people who didn’t know him. Watching him wear it now, taking in all the love the fans threw his way, you swore you could cry. 

He was meant to go to first base, everyone was taking their places on the field, the other team was on their way out, but once he found you he was stuck. Glued to you. Drawn to you. He couldn’t even say hi to your friends, his friends, he hurried over and grabbed onto the net separating the two of you, beckoning you closer. Stepping up to the ledge, grabbing onto his fingers that poked through the net, you smiled.

“Girlfriend,” he whispered, pressing his nose to the scratchy yarn.

Leaning into him, doing the same, your noses brushing, you whispered, “Boyfriend,” with a giggle.

“This is fucking crazy,” he said. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you said. “You made it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“Remember to breathe,” you whispered. “You can do this.”

Sucking down a breath, he released it all too fast, whispering, “I love you,” before pressing his lips to yours, unafraid to let everyone in the stadium in on the secret you two have been keeping for two weeks now. A secret that you’d try to keep, that both of you wanted to keep, for yourselves, and yourselves only.

Though you knew, after this, #visla would be trending faster than anything.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[lilsmv1]

august - MV1 (2/?)

- willow [pt2]

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Juliette Durand

This is a story for the Max (and Taylor Swift) girlies. 

masterlist

Summary: They were doomed from the start. Two completely different worlds colliding, there was no way this could work. But what happens when they keep running into each other, as if gravity was pulling them together. 

Trope: slow-burn af

(*dialogues in italic are meant to be in French, I’m just too lazy)

Word count: 1,1k

A/N: Sorry I'm late, I had my finals ! Here's a fluffy chapter :)

As Juliette walked along the beach, her mind wandered back to the events of the day. She had spent the entire morning exploring the quaint streets of the coastal town, admiring its charming architecture and bustling marketplaces. But as the day wore on, she found herself seeking peace in the quiet beauty of the beach, longing for a moment of respite from the chaos of her thoughts.

For Juliette, this impromptu trip was more than just a chance to explore new surroundings; it was a much-needed escape from the weight of her responsibilities and the lingering worries that plagued her mind. With each step she took along the shoreline, she felt the tension slowly melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.

In that moment, all that mattered was the gentle rhythm of the waves and the warmth of the setting sun. It was a brief reprieve from the demands of her daily life, a fleeting moment of freedom amidst the chaos. And as she walked, she allowed herself to simply be, savoring the simple joys of the present moment.

As she walked, lost in her thoughts, a voice called out to her from behind. "Well, well, if it isn't Juliette! Fancy running into you here."

Turning around, Juliette's eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Max approaching her with a playful grin on his face.

"Max!" Juliette exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, just enjoying the beauty of the sunset," Max replied casually, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "But I can't help but wonder if you're following me, Juliette. We seem to keep bumping into each other."

Juliette chuckled, shaking her head. "I assure you, it's purely coincidental. I came to the beach to unwind after a busy day. And plus, it seems to me I was here before you, so I think you might be following me Max" she winked at him.

"Likely story," Max teased, falling into step beside her as they continued their stroll along the shore.

As Max and Juliette walked along the beach, the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a serene backdrop to their conversation.

"So, Juliette," Max began, a playful twinkle in his eyes, "tell me something interesting about yourself that I don't already know."

Juliette chuckled, casting a sideways glance at him. "Hmm, let me think." she paused "Well, I have a secret talent for baking the most delicious cinnamon rolls known to humankind."

Max raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Is that so? Well, consider me intrigued. I'll have to put in a request for a batch of those legendary rolls sometime."

"You got it," Juliette replied with a grin. "But fair warning, they tend to disappear pretty quickly, so you'll have to act fast."

As they continued to walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next. They swapped stories of their travels, recounting memorable adventures and hidden gems they had discovered along the way. With each passing moment, Juliette found herself opening up to Max in a way she hadn't with anyone else, as if they had known each other for years instead of just a few days.

"So, what's next on your itinerary?" Max asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Juliette shrugged "I have to go back to France for a couple days to see my best friend, but who knows where I'll go next. I might just go with flow and prepare myself for some more adventures."

Max grinned, clearly intrigued by the idea. "I like the sound of that. Well, count me in for whatever adventure you have in mind."

Juliette smiled, feeling a warm sense of closeness blossoming between them. In that moment, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon and the sky turned a brilliant shade of pink, she knew that this chance encounter at the beach was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

Before they knew it, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beach was bathed in a soft twilight glow, casting long shadows across the sand.

"Hey, Juliette," he began gently, "can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course" she replied with a warm smile.

"What's the real reason you're here? I mean, what are you running away from?"

Juliette paused, her steps faltering slightly as she considered his question. She took a deep breath, deciding to confide in him. "To be honest, Max, I feel lost. I just finished my studies, and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Everything feels so uncertain, and I needed to get away, to escape from the pressure and expectations."

Max nodded understandingly, his expression sympathetic. "I get it. Sometimes we all need a break from reality, a chance to clear our heads and figure things out. But you know it's okay to not have all the answers right now".

Juliette smiled gratefully, touched by his words of reassurance. "Thank you, Max. I needed to hear that."

As they walked on, a comfortable silence settled between them, each lost in their own thoughts. After a moment, Juliette turned to Max, curiosity glinting in her eyes. "And what about you, Max? What's your story?"

Max hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting out to the horizon. "Oh, you know," he replied casually, a hint of evasiveness in his tone, "just getting away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, seeking a bit of adventure."

Juliette sensed that there was more to his answer than he was letting on, but she didn't press the issue, especially when she knew what he wasn't telling her. She knew that there would come a time when she had to reveal that she recognised him, but she couldn't muster the courage to do it at that moment. Instead, she simply nodded, a silent understanding passing between them.

"I should probably head back," Juliette said reluctantly, glancing at her watch. "I have an early start tomorrow."

Max nodded understandingly, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Right, of course. But hey, why don't we meet up again tomorrow? There's so much more of this town to explore, and it's always more fun with company. At least with your company."

Juliette hesitated for a moment, torn between the comfort of routine and the allure of spontaneity. But then she found herself nodding, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I'd like that, Max."

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 7 - Suffering in silence

CW: emotional manipulation, parental Whumper, hypnosis, conditioning, mind control, interrogation, forced betrayal

Previous | [Masterlist] | Next

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shepard cradled his son protectively, hoping to increase this state of suggestibility to a usable scale, despite or especially because the walls Reuben had built up were nothing more than gravel on the road.

"Listen carefully now. I'm not trying to fool you again, I'm just worried about my children. That's why I need to know if Lukas is alright, you understand this better than anyone. You remember what always happens when the stress gets to him: he doesn't eat, just lays in bed until sunset and doesn't go outside for fresh air. We don't want that, do we?"

His youngest nodded his assent. Luke, in one of his moods, couldn't cope on his own and he was all alone now too, but Ben was here and ready to support him from afar.

"You always help me out, that's your special talent. And I wouldn't dare to ask you bluntly, I bet Lukas told you that awful things would happen if you reveal details about his new...current home to me."

Ben agreed again, he was thoroughly briefed to hold his peace. Luke's horror stories about how they both would be dragged back and forcefully introduced again made goosebumps blossom at the back of his neck, which Shepard carefully stroked away: "But I'm not asking directly, so it's okay, we can play by Lukas' silly little rules and help him at the same time. Isn't that great?"

Shepard watched a lightened smile spread across his son's face, always eager to assist his dad.

"So, to achieve this, I need you to stay down, stay calm, stay open to my words. When you're ready to talk to me, I will listen."

After swallowing a few times, his jaw loosened with a click. Ben was thoroughly poised. Perfect.

"You lived together with Luke?" Shepard tried to suppress any judging tone that possibly snuck its way into his questions.

"Yes," Ben whispered, his voice sounding like it detached to flow freely throughout the tent.

Just as suspected: same city, same vicinity. Shepard would siphon Luke out of the masses until he was sure he was close enough.

"And others too?"

"Yeah." 

Shared flat. Close to campus, more than likely. Luke had surrounded himself with many people, many friends, which certainly acted as an extra barrier. Nothing his dad couldn't get out of the way.

"That's so nice, it's important to stay close to the people you love."

Ben nuzzled into the crook of his neck, a compliment Shepard gladly accepted.

"Imagine something for me. Imagine you're back in the house you lived in. You wake up like every morning, the warm sunbeams on your skin welcome the new day, and get dressed in your favorite outfit. You already prepared it the evening before, that's how exited you are to take a stroll through the city."

Ben could see Lukas' room so clearly: the spare sleeping mat he and his roommates had dug up and cramped under the desk. Everything had been cramped ever since he followed his brother out into the real, wild world, but that never stopped them from finding a way for themselves.

"Ready for the day, you step outside. What is the first building you can see?"

The question took a while to settle in, the cogs in Ben's mind worked at a snail's pace: "A restaurant."

"Is it a nice one, an expensive one?"

"Yeah." Luke had invited him there once or twice, only when his paychecks arrived.

"Can you see the name?"

Despite their makeshift living conditions, Shepard wondered if his boys, lacking papers and any kind of formal education, managed to settle in a high-end neighborhood. Meanwhile, Ben smiled weakly, remembering the intense aroma of cinnamon and sprinkles on his tongue.

"What does it say?"

"IHOP."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Shepard coughed and bit his lip hard to hold in his laughter. This narrowed the area down. His Reuben was incredibly helpful indeed, even if he was unable to grasp why.

"Taking in the morning air, you stride along the sidewalk to the nearest street sign. They are fixed on a post, a little plate with letters on it."

"I know, Dad!" he could practically hear Ben roll his eyes if he were in a different state of mind, "I'm not as stupid as you think."

But sweet Ben never paid attention to bland signs that couldn't spark his curiosity, and currently his brain wasn't active enough to produce a dream image.

"What street are you on?"

Ben shrugged innocently: "I dunno."

Prodding further would just risk him getting defensive, a possibility not worth sacrificing his results for. Lukas was practically gifted to Shepard on a silver platter, rushing it was not the way.

"That's alright, Ben. You're doing great, just go back to the house for me and tell me what color it is."

"Bricks," he muttered.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the tired man tried another strategy: "You walk up to the front door now, please. Slowly, dear, we aren't in a hurry."

A foul lie to calm his all too eager son down; complex assignments usually made Ben confuse himself into a stupor.

"Arriving at the entrance, you look at the facade and somewhere above the doorbells you will see a number. If you tell me which one it is, I'll stop bothering you."

Bother wasn't a word Ben would ever use to describe the breathwork they did together, he may not understand every word that was said or left his own mouth, but nevertheless appreciated this embrace for his soul.

Before his inner eye, the path he walked up countless times before showed itself in great detail: the clear view made of old beer cans and crumbling plaster he never quite got used to. It had to be there somewhere, a few stairs further inside a big circle. Slow, calculating head pats were exchanged for treacherous information.

"The number, sweet thing." If listened closely, maybe one could hear a trace of impatience.

"Four-two-seven," Ben murmured under great exertion.

"There you are. Thank you very much, Ben." A gentle kiss on the crown of his head sealed the deal.

Dad was so proud of him, he did a good job! All was forgiven.

The hard part was over, now Shepard had to ensure that his nestling didn't fledge again. He was truly fortunate that he had such a big heart and dutiful mind.

"How about one more favor for your old man?"

"Okay," Ben's warm breath against his father's chest let them tighten the hug.

"Are you sure? You already did so much for us."

In response, Reuben nodded avidly. He could always assist Dad, he could always prove his worth.

"Well, then. I want you to forget this conversation, Ben. Let it drift out of your head into the world, mix with the wind and get carried far, far away. It would hurt me too much to have you burdened with my worries."

Followed by a deep exhale and final sign of agreement, Ben was placed back on the sea of cushions and blankets beneath him and kindly tucked in. All that was prepared beforehand had found its use, as father and son laid beside each other, hand in hand.

"I'm going to talk to your subconscious now, but you can just simply float along. You don't have to listen to my drivel anymore, starshine, a deeper part will do all the work required. Let go and follow me."

At this final command, the last string that tethered Ben to the waking world slipped from his grasp.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[thursdaygarbageday]

Zack Dac & Freaked Out Eddie : A Little London Town, Monrovia.

Once upon a time in the charming little town of Monrovia, London, two unexpected friends found joy and laughter at their favorite local Starbucks. Ed Sheeran, the talented singer-songwriter known for his heartfelt melodies, and Zac Efron, the charismatic star with a passion for performing, would meet every day to share stories, coffee, and, of course, laughter.As the sun rose over the cobblestone streets, the duo would stroll into Starbucks, greeted by the aromatic scent of fresh coffee and the cheerful baristas who knew their orders by heart. Ed would often order a caramel macchiato, while Zac preferred a classic cappuccino topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

With their drinks in hand, they would settle into their favorite corner table, where sunlight streamed through the window, creating the perfect ambiance for creativity. Ed would strum his guitar, composing new songs inspired by their daily adventures, while Zac would brainstorm ideas for his next big role. The conversations flowed easily, filled with jokes, friendly banter, and discussions about life in the spotlight.

One day, while sipping his coffee, Ed had a brilliant idea. "What if we organize an open mic night right here at Starbucks? We could invite local talent to share their music and stories," he suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Zac grinned, always up for an adventure. "That’s genius, mate! We can promote it on social media and make it a community event. I can host it! Let’s give the people of Monrovia a night to remember!"

And so, the duo set to work, spreading the word around town. They designed colorful posters and shared their plans on Instagram, encouraging everyone to join in. The day of the open mic arrived, and the little Starbucks was packed with excited locals eager to showcase their talents.

As the night kicked off, Ed took the stage first, captivating the audience with his soulful tunes. Zac then introduced various performers, cheering them on and sharing heartfelt stories about each one. Laughter and applause filled the air, and even the introverted townsfolk found themselves sharing their hidden talents.

The night was a resounding success, bringing the community closer together and showcasing the incredible talent that Monrovia had to offer. Ed and Zac sat back, smiling at the crowd's enthusiasm, knowing they had created something special.

From that day on, their daily visits to Starbucks became even more meaningful. Not only were they best friends enjoying coffee and laughter, but they also became catalysts for positivity and creativity in their little London town. And thus, the tales of Ed Sheeran and Zac Efron in Monrovia continued, bringing joy to all who crossed their path.

#power #powerpittsburgh #pittsburghpower#pittssburgh

[localbouncehouserentalstiffin]

Brews and Views: A Tour of Tiffin's Best Coffee Shops and Scenic Spots

Tiffin, a quaint and charming town, is a hidden gem nestled in the heart of Iowa. It’s a place where the coffee is as rich as its history, and the views are as refreshing as a perfectly brewed cup of joe. In this guide, we embark on a caffeinated journey through Tiffin, exploring the best coffee shops and scenic spots that make this town uniquely inviting. So grab your favorite travel mug, and let's delve into the brews and views of Tiffin.

Coffee Shops to Kickstart Your Adventure

The Riverside Roast: Nestled by the serene Sandusky River, The Riverside Roast offers more than just a cup of coffee; it offers an experience. With beans sourced from local roasters and a menu that changes with the seasons, this café is a favorite among locals and tourists alike. Sip on their signature Riverside Rumble, a robust blend with hints of caramel and chocolate, as you watch the gentle flow of the river—a perfect start to your day.

Beanstalk Bistro: This whimsical coffee shop is as magical as its name suggests. The Beanstalk Bistro is famous for its fairy-tale-inspired interiors and ethereal espresso blends. Try the "Giant's Brew," a towering achievement of coffee craftsmanship, or the "Cinderella Latte," which transforms with the stroke of midnight (or, in this case, a sprinkle of cinnamon). The Bistro is more than a coffee shop; it's a gateway to a whimsical, caffeine-fueled fantasy.

Caffeine & Chrome: For the car enthusiasts out there, Caffeine & Chrome is a must-visit. This retro-themed coffee shop pays homage to the classic American diner, with a side of vintage cars on display. Their menu features robust blends and classic pastries, with the "V8 Espresso" being a crowd favorite. It's the perfect pit stop for those who appreciate the beauty of classic cars and the timeless taste of good coffee.

Scenic Spots to Savor Your Brew

Hedges-Boyer Park: After fueling up on coffee, take your adventure outdoors to Hedges-Boyer Park. This sprawling park is the perfect backdrop for a leisurely stroll or a picnic. Find a shaded spot under one of the ancient oaks, and enjoy the tranquility that nature offers. The park is also home to various events throughout the year, adding to the vibrant community spirit of Tiffin.

Frost Kalnow Amphitheater: For those who love their coffee with a side of culture, the Frost Kalnow Amphitheater is the place to be. Located in the heart of Tiffin, this outdoor venue hosts a wide range of performances, from concerts to theatrical productions. Enjoy your coffee while basking in the creative talents of Tiffin's artists and performers—a truly enriching experience.

Seneca County Museum: A visit to Tiffin would not be complete without delving into its rich history. The Seneca County Museum, housed in a stunning Victorian mansion, offers a glimpse into the past, with collections that tell the story of Tiffin's heritage. Wander through the rooms with your coffee in hand, and let the stories of yesteryears transport you to another time.

Final Thought: Tiffin, Iowa, is a testament to the beauty of simplicity and the richness of community. Its coffee shops serve not just beverages but experiences, each with its unique flavor and story. The scenic spots of Tiffin, from its lush parks to its cultural landmarks, offer a canvas to enjoy these brews while soaking in the views. Whether you're a coffee connoisseur, a history buff, or simply in search of a peaceful retreat, Tiffin welcomes you with open arms and a warm cup of coffee. So, the next time you're pondering over a destination that offers both relaxation and adventure, remember the brews and views of Tiffin—they're sure to leave you enchanted and energized.

About Local Bounce House Rentals Tiffin:

In Tiffin City, Local Bounce House Rentals Tiffin embodies the spirit of community and celebration by uniting the area's leading rental businesses, including the well-known "Bouncy Bro's." This coalition is dedicated to providing residents with unparalleled access to a diverse assortment of bounce houses, catering to all types of events and parties. By prioritizing local partnerships, Local Bounce House Rentals Tiffin not only facilitates memorable celebrations for families and friends but also promotes the growth and sustainability of local enterprises. Their mission goes beyond rentals, fostering a sense of community and support among Tiffin's local businesses and their customers.

Support our local members: We highly appreciate your support to our local members. It means a lot to us. Support us here:

Bouncy Bro's Address: 300 Greenfield Dr. Tiffin, IA 52340 Phone: (319) 900-1745 Website: https://www.bouncybrosiowa.com/

[clubdeals]

Immersing in Istanbul's Bazaars: Exploring the Enchanting Markets of the East and West

Welcome to Marrakech, the jewel of Morocco, where vibrant markets and enchanting souks await your exploration. Get ready to immerse yourself in a sensory shopping experience like no other. From bustling marketplaces filled with colourful textiles to aromatic spice stalls and traditional craft workshops, Marrakech offers a captivating journey for every shopper seeking unique treasures and unforgettable memories.

Jemaa el-Fnaa: The Iconic Heartbeat of Marrakech

Kickstart your adventure in the lively Jemaa el-Fnaa square, the pulsating heart of Marrakech. Lose yourself in the bustling atmosphere as you navigate through a myriad of stalls offering a kaleidoscope of goods. From handwoven rugs and leather goods to traditional ceramics and Moroccan lanterns, let the vibrant energy and lively street performers guide you through this vibrant marketplace.

Souk Submarine: A Haven of Textiles and Fashion

Venture into the winding alleys of Souk Semmarine, where a vibrant array of textiles and fashion awaits. Marvel at the colourful fabrics, intricately embroidered clothing, and traditional Moroccan garments. Explore the hidden corners and embrace the art of bargaining as you discover unique pieces that showcase the city's rich textile heritage.

Souk des Épices: Aromatic Delights and Culinary Inspiration

Indulge your senses in the vibrant Souk des Épices, the spice market that will transport you to a world of enticing aromas. Stroll through stalls brimming with an array of spices, dried fruits, and herbal remedies. Let the scents of saffron, cumin, and cinnamon ignite your culinary inspiration and take home a piece of Morocco's flavorful cuisine.

Ensemble Artisanal: Showcasing Craftsmanship and Tradition

Visit Ensemble Artisanal, a showcase of Morocco's traditional craftsmanship. This government-run cooperative highlights the talents of local artisans and offers an opportunity to admire and purchase exquisite handmade products. From intricate woodwork and metal lanterns to beautifully woven carpets and leather goods, immerse yourself in the skill and artistry of Moroccan artisans.

Rue Mouassine: Chic Boutiques and Bohemian Charm

Discover the bohemian charm of Rue Mouassine, a trendy neighbourhood filled with boutique shops and art galleries. Explore the eclectic mix of contemporary designs, unique jewellery, and stylish homeware. Find hidden gems created by local designers and embrace the chic side of Marrakech's shopping scene.

Conclusion:

Marrakech's markets and souks provide a sensory feast for shoppers seeking an authentic Moroccan experience. From the vibrant Jemaa el-Fnaa and the textile haven of Souk Semmarine to the aromatic Souk des Épices and the craftsmanship showcased at Ensemble Artisanal, Marrakech offers an abundance of unique treasures to discover. Don't forget to explore Rue Mouassine for a taste of bohemian chic. Embrace the vibrant colours, tantalizing aromas, and rich cultural heritage as you delve into the enchanting markets of Marrakech. Happy shopping!

If you want to shop for something for yourself and get amazing discounts then check out our website

www.clubdeals.net

[cinnamonstroll]

YES LESTEBAN 🥺❤️

[peony-pearl]

Fire Lord Ozai has just been crowned.

Iroh and the warriors leading the siege have returned to the Fire Nation.

Zuko is still adjusting to the changes after his grandfather’s and cousin’s deaths, and the disappearance of his mother.

Azula is thriving as the beloved, talented princess, often seen trotting beside her father as he strolls down the hallways, flanked by warlords and servants.

Zuko, done with his studies and his duties, ambles around the palace with no real goals. The hallways seem so much bigger, so much emptier now. So much darker and colder, despite his father’s hotheaded temper.

The pond seems gray. The turtleducks are getting bigger, and soon the little ones will leave for new homes.

Zuko wanders aimlessly, eventually finding his way to his uncle’s hallway, leading to Iroh’s side of the palace, where he’d once lived with a wife and his son. Zuko entered the suite, where it was engulfed in darkness.

Iroh hadn’t made himself known in the days since he returned. Zuko often wondered if he had even come home; he hadn’t seen his uncle set foot back into the palace, so his absence was concerning.

Zuko and Azula had often snuck into these chambers before so Azula could pilfer some of Iroh’s cinnamon candies, and so they could put on his helmet and armor and pretend to be the Dragon of the West. Azula would wear his helmet, too big for her head, and take a teacup and sit ever so pristinely pampered and pretend to sip from it as she ordered people to be flayed alive as Zuko laughed.

That laughter was gone. Zuko turned the corner and saw Iroh’s door ajar. He could see a shape on the bed. He inched closer, slowly opening the door to see Iroh, turned away, curled up and unmoving, even as the door creaked open.

Zuko stood for a moment. “Uncle?”

Iroh just barely budged, but didn’t turn back. Zuko walked forward, eventually slipping onto the bed next to his uncle.

“...I’m sorry about... about Lu Ten.”

Iroh remained still.

“I know it’s... it’s hard.” Zuko continued. He swallowed, thinking about his mother. “It’s hard because... you can’t tell them that you’re scared or... or that you love them. And you miss them and... and you just want to hear them say something again.”

Iroh remained still.

“... This morning I told dad I miss mom and he... just told me to stop being stupid. I heard Azula crying last night but when she heard me say that she just looked at me really dirty.”

Zuko looked at his uncle’s unmoving form.

“... I don’t think it’s stupid to miss anyone. I missed you when you were gone. I missed dad when he was searching for the Avatar. At least I think I did; mom said I would cry for him. But she never said I was stupid for missing him. She said it’s because I love him and... and I do love him; so why would he call me stupid when I told him I miss...”

Zuko’s words trailed off. Where was he going with this? So many thoughts and emotions plagued his young mind. He felt the hot tears at his eyes, the warmest thing he’d felt in days. He reached over, touching Iroh’s shoulder.

“Uncle?”

Iroh remained still.

Zuko’s slowly building hope crumbled, like a child’s sandcastle. He sniffled and shuffled to leave.

“I’m sorry I bothered y-”

Out of nowhere, his arm was pulled back into the bed, and Zuko’s face was suddenly scrunched into Iroh’s chest.

Iroh held Zuko close, his face a twisted piece of work as tears had drenched his skin for days. Zuko instinctively grabbed back at Iroh, holding tight.

“You aren’t stupid, Zuko,” Iroh’s already gravelly drawl was broken into thick pieces of sorrow. “And you could never bother me. Not now.”

Zuko couldn’t dam away the burbling emotions of the past week as his chest erupted with quiet, seizing sobs. He felt Iroh stroke his hair, and the uncle cradled his nephew with all of his might.

“I’m sorry”. The two of them repeated to each other - for so many things.

Iroh remained still - not once pushing away his nephew, and holding him with all of his might as they remained in the darkness, hoping to piece together a few broken fractions of their shattered hearts.

[formulinos]

hello and welcome to the final results of the tournament! we've had over 920 votes in the last round and all categories were pretty close, i think! now it's time to reveal the results and what better way to start than to honour the contestants that might have not made it to the final round, but were still influent enough to warrant some crying when they got eliminated. let's check out the first category right after the cut!

the trailblazers of f1 are not only a source of inspiration with their determination and sheer will, but also a sweet refreshment to the women loving portion of the fandom. these ladies were spread out thinly through the decades, from 1958 to 2014, but they have left a mark enough to be here today. here are your nominees:

Susie Wolff [sole exception to the no test drivers rule] Maria Teresa de Filippis  Lella Lombardi  Divina Galica Desiré Wilson Giovanna Amati 

unfortunately, only one of them can win! and with 70,4 % of votes, Formula One's Best Girl is...

Susie Wolff! no one is immune to the latex dress power after all. 

our next category is devoted to the hay-as-safety-barriers old as balls portion of formula 1. these are some of the stars that braved through the circuits between the 50s and the 70s and have managed to make a name of themselves, either by their talent or, most importantly, by their good looks, which is what we're trying to assess here today. our nominees for hottest classic driver are:

Jacky Ickx Jim Clark James Hunt  François Cevert  Jody Scheckter  Dan Gurney

and... with 33,2 % of votes, Formula One's Hottest Classic Driver is...

Jacky Ickx! with a bone structure like that he made everyone wish they could speak a little french.... je porte lunettes de soleil...... oui oui baguette.....

this is perhaps the funniest category that someone suggested (@howdysebby, to be more precise) and the reason why i split the categories between "eras" of f1 instead of decades. in here, we're supposed to honour the brave men who refused to drive and spent a night barricaded together in a room, sharing mattresses For The Sake Of The Sport (it was for a good reason, but you have to admit the intricate rituals of it all anyway). while we can't have ALL of the strikers here - even because some of these wouldn't get even a vote - here are the fittest amongst them, as your nominees:

Elio de Angelis Niki Lauda René Arnoux Alain Prost Didier Pironi Andrea de Cesaris Riccardo Patrese

time to check the results! with 28,4 % of votes, your Formula One's Hottest Striker is...

Alain Prost! as much as Alain and Elio were close, this could only go to the brain behind the operation.

our next category is about The Cinnamon Apples of F1 for many of us who started watching F1 during the period between the late 90s and the early 00s. their driving on track was tight, their levels of empathy for other human beings was tighter and their abs were the tightest of them all. here are your nominees:

Michael Schumacher Damon Hill Mika Häkkinen Jacques Villeneuve Fernando Alonso Mark Webber Giancarlo Fisichella Eddie Irvine

(looking at this list idk why i forgot to add kimi in it oop)

with a grand total of 32,6 % votes, the Hottest Y2K Driver of Formula One is...

Michael Schumacher!!!! Because nothing screams "hot" the same way that "7 championships" and "war crimes" does! (photo is an homage to my mom who usually said he is a "shrimp" - you have to rip the head off and eat the rest)

we got to our current times. this is the mid 2010s, mostly Drive to Survive generation of drivers we currently have. with a few exceptions, they mostly have at their hands a plethora of social media profiles where they make continuous efforts to advertise themselves as Figures of The Sport, which includes, of course, the occasional cheeky thirst trap. the nominees for hottest liberty media driver are:

Daniel Ricciardo Jules Bianchi Antonio Giovinazzi Carlos Sainz Jr Nico Hulkenberg Jaime Alguesuari Pierre Gasly Esteban Ocon Lance Stroll

with 37 % of votes, Formula One's Hottest Liberty Media Driver is...

Jules Bianchi! he should have definitely been able to take more advantage of the era we're in, and he will never be forgotten <3

well, right now it's the time to give a little shout out to the guys that we didn't remember to add to the qualifying roster. they weren't there when it mattered, and when it didn't matter anymore, people were like "why isn't Guy here?". even though i warned a few times i was still taking nominations. oh well. here are your nominees:

Stoffel Vandoorne Max Verstappen George Russell Christian Fittipaldi

ok, to be fair i'm pretty sure someone nominated stoff and i forgot him. he's ok, he won the FE title this weekend anyway, he won't mind it. i would also like to take this moment to publicly apologise to valtteri bottas who i have been thirsty for since last year, yet somehow i forgot to add him both to the main tournament and to this category. i'm so sorry valtteri i'm still a big fan of your butt!!!!!

ok, time for the results. with 39,5 % of votes, Formula One's Hottest Forgotten Driver is...

George Russell! his allergy to upper body clothing came in clutch for this one!

this category is very dear to me because i never met my father. these drivers in particular have acquired a reputation amongst the fandom as Dads We'd All Like To Fuck, if that's your thing. here are your nominees:

Nigel Mansell Gilles Villeneuve Graham Hill Keke Rosberg Stirling Moss

with 42 % of votes, Formula One's Hottest Dilf just has to be...

Nigel Mansell! Il Leone strikes again with the dad bod and the moustache that makes anyone say "daddy? sorry. daddy? sorr-"

the same way there is a market for dilfs, there has to be a market for twinks! they made their mark in the Hot Drivers Market of formula 1 thanks to their wrinkle free looks and relative lack of testosterone. while some of them have since grown into their man looks, we still fondly remember their twink era. perhaps a second way of looking at this category would be "Best Gender", but then again some drivers would be missing. here are your nominees:

Nico Rosberg Mick Schumacher Yuki Tsunoda Zhou Guanyu Lando Norris

alright, let's go! with 34,1 % Formula One's Hottest Twink is:

Mick Schumacher! I think many of us fell deep into his blue eyes....

it's time to highlight the electric hotties of Formula One history. they came to f1 and they flopped, even if we don't want to admit it. however, as we all know, one of the hottest attributes in any person is their ability to persevere and these guys weren't afraid of challenging themselves in formula e. as a reward, they reinvented their careers, looking pretty hot while doing so. let's take a look at our nominees:

Jean Eric Vergne Andre Lotterer Jerome D'Ambrosio Pascal Werhlein Lucas di Grassi

with 44,2 % of votes, our Hottest Formula E Driver is...

JEV! It's not a scandal to anyone that this would go to the only 2-time champion of FE.

at last, to wrap the hall of fame, we have a bonus category. this was supposed to be optional on the tournament poll, so i'm VERY sorry to those who didn't want to vote for it and had to, i forgot to unmark the "obligatory" box since it was late when i made the form. this is a Senna specific category only because so many of you misunderstood the open box question and recommended it as a category instead of your "Hottest Classic Driver" nomination hahaha! so, just for banter, here are your nominees:

Twink Toleman Senna Lotus Senna McLaren Marlboro Senna W*lliams Senna

let's go! with 58,3 % of votes, the Hottest Senna is...

McLaren Marlboro Senna! world championships and team rivalries are very hot indeed.

well, this marks the end of our Hall of Fame categories! thank you for participating so far, stay tuned for our podium tomorrow! 

[sukirichi]

fall from grace

“If you were in love,” he began, voice barely above a whisper, “What would be the most beautiful thing those lips of yours would utter?”

“Your name.”

REQUEST/WARNINGS. (royal au, mutual pining, praise kink ) fake dating au, mirror sex, slight manhandling, fingering, body marking, prejudice, mentions of abuse, injustice, and inequality + unedited (I’m so lazy to edit tbh, I’m so sorry, just bear with me if there are typos or grammatical errors)

NOTES. I LOVE AND HATE THIS STORY

WC. 7k+

SONG INSPO. Ashes (Celine Dion)

The prince himself lifted his chin up higher; long, slender fingers deftly grazing against the pad of your knuckles that were pressed on his chest. 

The tips of your ears burned at the sight of people pausing from their conversations all to witness the scene – one that was so rare to have come from the infamous Crown Prince known to have bedded more women than he could count.

“Your Highness,” you pinched your brows together, leaning closer into him to bring you the least bit of comfort. The dress you had to wear today had nothing but itchy lace; albeit elegant, you preferred the loose materials of your dance clothes, painted red lips fighting back a grimace. “Must we really do this in public?”

The Crown Prince laughs, his white hair fluttering against the soft kisses of the wind. Beautiful, you think, beautiful, you are reminded, prompting you to dig your free hand deeper into the flesh of your thighs.

“What would be the point of our ruse if we are not a little flashy, My Lady?”

You frowned at his words, head ducked down as you avoided everyone’s prying eyes. You supposed you should be used to this – you are a performer, after all – but the attention was terribly unwelcomed yet expected from your previous agreements.

The said agreement, however, did not affect your standing as a person, something you had to remind the happy-go-lucky Prince. “I am not of that title.”

“People regard you of it,” he commented at an off-beat, his crystalline eyes sweeping over the crowd with a chilling command, a slight bite of a challenge that asked his people to dare him. When they shifted away, scurrying behind fluffed up skirts and pressed down suits, the Crown Prince snickered, smiling down at you with a flash of his pearly whites. “You are, after all, hanging prettily off my arm.”

“Because you asked me to, Your Highness.”

“Ah, are you forgetting already?” he paused, his long and elegant stature towering over yours. “I’m doing this for the both of us. The agreement was clear – you steered me away from my arranged marriage, redeem my nettling reputation, and in turn, I shall pick you up from where you’ve fallen,” your lips parted in protest, finger raised to correct that no, you had not fallen, that was not the situation at all, but he silenced you when he leaned down close enough that his eyes twinkled before you, lips turned at the side arrogantly. “In fact, I am more than capable of providing you more than that.”

“I am well aware of that, Your Highness. I truly am indebted to you.”

Should you be humiliated? Forming an agreement with the Crown Prince would be the last thing that would ever arrive even in your craziest dreams, yet there you were, in the middle of the town square, leisurely strolling with the Kingdom’s heir as if it was but a daily occurrence.

Thoughts running back to your latest predicament – which he just had to bear witness to – you winced, swallowing the resigned sigh that threatened to spill.

You did not have enough shame in you to be humiliated, not when he was right. It was a mutually beneficial agreement.

“You do not have to be,” Prince Satoru blinked at you, gray lashes fluttered against the pads of his cheeks. “I take extreme pleasure in saving a damsel in distress,” Your lips puckered out, tireless with the need to tell him it wasn’t like that, and the Prince easily read through you, tugging you back into his arm as he laughed. “Even when I know you are not. Still, it does feel nice to take a walk in this fine day, don’t you think?”

You snorted at the heavy sarcasm under his sweet tone, “It feels a little embarrassing.”

“You feel embarrassed that you’re with me?”

“Yes,” you gritted at your teeth, the lace of your gloves digging into your flesh. You wanted nothing more than to rip it off, the material a silent reminder of the requirement that must be met to fool the crowd. “You’re a prince and I am—”

“I thought we already established titles mean nothing when we both mutually benefit from one another,” he cut you off, hands coming up to caress at your cheeks. You immediately froze at his touch, the iciness behind those eyes doing nothing to soothe you until he spoke, the Prince’s words oddly gentle and warm like the sun that shone down on you that fine day. “Worry not about that. I do not care what people think of you. All I care is that you do well and I shall do my part gracefully in return,” he declared for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

Back then, you never believed that people had power just because they were born with it. Power had to be manifested, trained, earned – yet Prince Satoru wielded it with his lips so effortlessly that in that moment, you believed magic really wasn’t a myth.

“Kiss me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Everyone is looking,” his eyes darted over the on looking crowd, his bare hand still caressing your warm cheeks, hot enough that it put the sun to shame. “Lest you want this plan to fail, I suggest you kiss me, darling. Passionately.”

The Crown Prince was right. Everyone was looking.

Your body’s response was instantaneous. A hiss of a breath, muscles tensed and fingers curled into a fist at your side; you could feel bile rising from your throat out of panic.

Then Prince Satoru leaned forwards, eyes snapped shut and his lips colliding with yours. The single touch had all the tension flooding away as you kissed the Prince, his lips tasting of cinnamon and sugar, vanilla and spice wafting off of him delicately that you had to fist at the collar of his shirt to prevent yourself from gobbling him up whole.

He would find that rather displeasing, claiming that you had little to no table manners, so you forced yourself to relax as he breathed air into your mouth, large hands cradled around your neck.

“I’ve got you,” he mumbled between kisses, the mere scent of royalty and forbidden elegance dripping off of him making you fearful to open your eyes. It felt illegal to touch the most wanted bachelor in your Kingdom this way, felt wrong to have his hands roaming down the slopes of your body while everyone looked at your shameless public display of faux romance. But if it was wrong, then why did he hold you so tenderly, not moving to push you away even as you nipped at his lips once more?

“You’re alright – I’ve got you.”

It was not easy being a no-name ballerina. You’ve crafted your skill for what seemed like your whole life, yet getting even a step closer to your dreams proved to be a daunting task. Even as your toes bruised and your muscles ached, pants heaved from your chest while you bended your body at will, you couldn’t stop thinking about how no one told you it was never easy to reach your dreams.

The fairytales had lied to you. They made it seem to easy to grab a star, never really explaining on how to be a star.

It felt so far away – the galaxy and universe you’d longer your entire life to be a part of – yet the Crown Prince stood at the corner of your studio, eyes dark as he watched you sway to the music.

A few weeks prior to your spontaneous arrangement, you were foolish enough to believe you could become that star easily. You were the lowest of ranks when it came to other girls; orphaned, no-named, broke, and loveless. 

Unlike your peers that were bred of the finest titles and fed with silver spoons, nannies and courts running after them in their growing years, you had to survive on scraps, taking three jobs at the young age of thirteen just to get into dance school and afford the fees.

You believed title or ranking shouldn’t have had to do anything with talent and worth, but then again, you were foolish beyond your years.

The moment you heard you were chosen to be the Black Swan of this season, allowing you to debut, you squealed behind your skirt, training day and night to the point you’ve skipped your meals just to perfect your routine.

That was until your classmates’ parents had come inside the school, twirling their moustaches behind soft fingers that had never known a day’s worth of work, belly round with cupcakes and all the delicacies only they were privileged enough to eat, the nervous laughter of your ballet master enough to let you know what it all meant.

Your classmate – the prettiest and the richest one – came rushing past you as she giggled over the announcement that she would be the Black Swan.

She was far many years younger than you, spoiled and with an attitude that tasted as bad as your leftovers, and definitely not skilled enough to debut – but of course, nothing was ever impossible enough with money, right? Before you could even defend yourself, your ballet master had cleaned out your quarters, your skirts and shoes thrown onto the muddy dirt while you cried under the rain, begging for another chance.

Second chances? You wanted to laugh.

Only people who did wrong should ask for it, and yet you sat there on your knees, hands clasped in a prayer that should only be reserved for wish bearers, desperate pleads of please don’t do this to me echoing into the empty night.

Was it fate then that the Crown Prince was half drunk inside his vehicle, shades slipping off his nose as he turned your way, your cries rudely interrupting the music blaring inside his car?

Perhaps it was – a cruel or a wonderful fate; no one could tell – the only thing that mattered now was that the Crown Prince had yet again found interest in a woman.

Only this time he didn’t lust after their body, wished nothing to do with their hands on his, completely sober around your presence as he watched you train endlessly in your studio, your sweat making your clothes stick like a second skin.

Prince Satoru leaned back against the walls then.

He should’ve brought a drink with him. Had he known that watching you dance sensually with such a blissed out expression he was mostly familiar with when he had his legs wrapped around another warm body would set his body alight, sober, then he would’ve left long ago.

Still, the Prince is rendered frozen at the edge, eyes trailing over your graceful form as you bended, legs flying out into the air while you arms dipped and curved into the most graceful of arcs and bows that put his combat figures into shame.

You weren’t even trying to seduce him and yet he was wholly captivated.

He wants to say that the woman he saw that rainy night and the woman stood before him now, figure bathed in the small slivers of sunlight that peeked through the blinds and stockings hugging each and every curve and dip of your body were entirely two different people, but the longer he looked, there was no mistaking it was still the same person. The passion burned through your eyes, the soft melodious tunes of the music guiding you – or rather you guiding the beat before you fluttered to another.

Prince Satoru smiled.

It first came off as a joke that he wanted to know more about you – his pretend lover – because everyone knew the Crown Prince was too frivolous to ever settle down and find interest in a woman beyond her looks. The confused pout you gave him as he followed you inside your studio burned at the back of his brain, a silent warning that you were different; that you were not someone he could touch lest he wished to burn and break you, though that would be a lie, it seemed.

For every strong ripple of your muscles and flowy movement of your body as you completely delved into the space of your own home and comfort, the Prince knew – you were not someone he could crush into the palm of his hands.

He came here out of boredom.

He left the studio with a confused heart, cheeks resting on his palm as he asked his chauffer, when is the next show?

The birds chirped above you, your fingers stretched out as you peeked from under it, lips pressed into a flat line. You were in the royal garden after persistent invitation from the Crown Prince himself. Speaking of, said Crown Prince had his limbs sprawled out beneath you, the edges of his hands slightly playing with the frills of your dress as he took his afternoon nap, a youthful smile on his face.

“Your Highness,” you huffed out, “What are we doing here? No one is looking. There is no need for us to continue our act.”

“I know,” he cheered a little too brightly for someone that looked to be deep in dreamland, “I just wanted to hang out with you without worrying about others. Not that I ever did, but it’s nice to be alone with you every once in a while. The prying eyes can get a bit too much.”

You hummed at the thought; he did have a point. This arrangement turned out to be a lot smoother than expected. The Crown Prince wasn’t lying about his intentions and not once had he laid a hand on you – without your permission, anyway – and he turned out to be…a lot more docile and easy going than what you originally thought of him. Not that you had much thoughts to begin with anyway, the Prince was a celebrity and therefore not someone that concerned you.

In your mind, he was merely your leader, more often than a not a name spoken between hushed whispers and dreamy moans.

This side of him was different, and all the time you’d spent him with was filled with nothing but ridiculed stares and taunts. The Crown Prince was a hilarious man who never feared trying out new things, always happy and eager to try exotic foods with you in the night markets or joining you in your spontaneous dancing during midnight ‘dates.’

He was the closest you could consider as a friend, and you relaxed against him, laying down on the flowery fields right next to him as you sighed in content. “I will miss this, Your Highness.”

“Miss what?”

“You and I – hanging out,” you mumbled a little dreamily, “I have a strong feeling things will finally get better for me. When I get scouted by a better company, I won’t be able to hang out with you anymore,” Silence befell the both upon you, the rustling of the wind against the flowers sounding like a far off memory. Soon, it would be. “I will miss this.”

“You could always call me. Or who knows, maybe I’d even drop by to watch your performances sometime.”

You snapped your eyes open, chuckling when the Prince had now sat up halfway, his regal face cradled in his hands while his elbow laid flat under him. He blinked innocently at you, and that’s when you realized – he was serious. That had you bursting into laughter, hands clutched at your stomach. “Please, you? You do not even enjoy ballerina!”

“I enjoy watching you,” he confessed in a heartbeat, his gaze falling from your crinkled eyes and all the way down to the silhouette of your body. “There’s something about the way you move that’s just so graceful and...phenomenal.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his heated gaze, the mere trails of his sight enough to warm your entire skin despite the cool wind. This was the Prince concerned though, and you had to guard your heart, eyes narrowed playfully at him while you desperately ignored the need to rub your thighs together.

“Are you flirting with me, Your Highness?”

The Prince snorted, “Flirt with you? My pretend girlfriend?” he clutched a hand at his chest as if the assumption offended him, “What makes you come to that conclusion?”

You chucked your handkerchief at him, still a little in disbelief that you were greeted by his laughter when it hit him right in the face.

You would miss this indeed.

Your gaze softened as you sat up, thighs pressed to your chest as you directed your gaze up in the sky. Prince Satoru may not always be around when the time came, but at least you still had the sky to remind you of this brazen and unexpected friendship that helped you grow.

“Thank you, though,” you squished your cheeks onto your knees, a lilted smile plastered on your face. “Dancing has always been a passion of mine. I can’t ever imagine a time of my life where I wasn’t moving with music. It almost feels as if I was destined with it; it speaks to me and deeper than the recesses of my bones, guides me until I’m one and entangled with it,” you ended with a dreamy sigh, turning your head to the side to look His Highness in the eye, stilling for a moment when you’re met with his solemn gaze.

Your throat parched dry. “Have you ever fallen in love with something like that before?”

“I don’t think so,” one of his shoulders lifted up in a lame shrug, voice turning deep and husky as he asked, “How do you know when you lack something or not?”

“If it comes to love...” you tapped your chin with a finger, “I think a life lived without one would feel quite empty. Hollow, I would say, and the skies would just be a plain blue instead of a calming yet mesmerizing one,” the courage that soared within you was an unexpected one, but it was enough to let you look him in the eye, form vulnerable and words slipping past your lips before you could control them. “If I were incapable of love, I’d say your eyes are nothing but gleams of sapphire.”

“And if you were capable of it? What would my eyes be?”

“Like cerulean galaxies crashing against one another,” you whispered, “Stardust sprinkled and heavens birthed out of passion and the desire to be something more. You’d be azure and brazen instead of crestfallen; the magnificence of the universe’s creation attesting to itself that it is wholly capable of designing divine beings.”

“Hmm,” he tipped his head to the side as he mulled over your words. His jacket was discarded somewhere along the grass, top three buttons of his shirt left opened and hair rustling with the wind. Beautiful, the image etched into your skin. “Are you sure you are a dancer and not a poet?”

“People say all sorts of beautiful things when they’re in love.”

The Prince straightened up, lips pursed. For a moment, you grew fearful, your heart frantically thumping in your chest as you thought, this is it – this is when he pushes you away. He does nothing of this as he scoots closer to you, using his rough thumb to tilt your chin until you were looking up at him, wide eyes sparkling – the sight of you vulnerable like this making the Crown Prince lick his lips.

“If you were in love,” he began, voice barely above a whisper, “What would be the most beautiful thing those lips of yours would utter?” You shivered as his thumb moved up to graze at your bottom lip, almost prompting it to jut out, to which you happily complied with a shaky breath. “What would you say then?”

“Your name.”

The Prince smiled to himself at your hearty answer. To hide both of your nervous chuckles, the Prince took it upon himself to ease both your worries as he kissed you, nothing but the warmth and fluttering of butterflies rampaging in your stomach mixing at his sweet taste.

Beautiful, you hummed into his mouth. You could fall for as long as you wanted, but would the Prince ever fall from grace as he moaned into your mouth, tugging you until you were situated in his lap, arms wrapped tight enough around you in refusal to let you go? Maybe, your mind sighed, hands tugging at his hair when the Prince kissed you fervently, murmuring one word that made you melt right then and there.

Beautiful, he finds you.

Both your loud laughter echoed in his training grounds, the horses’ hooves padding against the firm earth. “Not fast enough, my Lady,” he taunts, his smile bright and wide as he sat perched atop his white stallion. “How would you catch my heart if you cannot ride faster?”

“I will catch up to you, just wait and see! Not everyone grew up riding horses, you know?”

“I bet a fine coin you do ride well, though, my Lady,” he remarked with a wink, his statement enough to tap the sides of your feet harder against your horse to catch after him.

“Your Highness!”

As you two chased around each other the wide field, carefree laughter and clothes swaying against the wind, skin warm from the flush of the sun, the Crown Prince’s servants stood at the side.

A particular woman – the servant that had been loyal long before the Prince was born – remained under a parasol, her wrinkled face tight with a frown.

“How nauseating,” she scrunched her nose, arms crossed on her chest. “To think I dedicated my life into raising the little prince to be a fine king someday, and his future would be tainted by a lowly performer who cannot even make a name for herself,” turning to one of the young boy servants, she narrowed her eyes at you. “Where does she work again? Is she of name?”

“She is an orphan, Madam, taken in at a young age in a dance school before she had to pay the fees herself, if the rumors are correct. I heard that she and His Highness met when she was kicked out by her own ballet master due to her stealing the original Black Swan spot for this season’s show.”

His old nanny’s face grew more gruesome. “Wasn’t the Black Swan supposed to be one of the Earl’s daughters?”

“Yes. Rumours had it that His Highness’ new plaything seized the spot to prove herself. Look at how that plan backfired.”

“How repulsive,” she spat out, venom laced in her tongue.

The roles had reversed, the Crown Prince insistent in catching you this time around, and you rode after him with panicked laughter, hands clutched tight on the reins. Although you’d only swished past the small group of servants that always seemed to be around, you’d heard enough.

“We must protect His Highness at all costs before this wretched woman rips his future away from him. The fate of the kingdom lies on his shoulders; we cannot afford him making mistakes.”

“Indeed, Madam.”

You stopped in your tracks until the horse slowed down with confused huffs, your Prince following behind you not long afterwards. Looking back at him again, you were no longer able to smile at him genuinely, not when discomfort, and most of all shame, had to be forced down deep into your system. Beautiful, you resigned, he was too beautiful.

His servants were right. Maybe you really were ruining everything for him. His reputation was frowned upon to begin with for his less than infamous sexual endeavors, that he was more often sighted in casinos and bars instead of his study room.

The barrack guards had grown tired and weary of trying to stop the Crown Prince from leaving the royal grounds. No matter what they did, he always found a way to escape.

The only difference this time around was that their Prince no longer frequented such sinful places and met with women of all titles and backgrounds. No, this time, the Prince leapt from the tall walls that had never been much of a challenge considering his tall frame, not bothering to get a car or even a horse as he dashed straight to your studio.

Sweat dripped down from your face as you slammed a fist on the floor, tears about to erupt. You couldn’t complete this routine that you were so close into perfecting.

Your mind was simply just in a mess.

There was a conflicting war inside you – one with your heart that yearned to stay longer in His Highness’ presence out of mere selfishness, and one with your mind that told you it was dishnoroubale to taint his name like this. The last thing you wanted was to destroy and push both of you even further into falling from grace; both reputations and name already tarnished.

You’d truly be heartless if you kept going on.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were feeling comfortable with him, having found home in the Crown Prince’s warm arms and spontaneous kisses of all places.

Was it absurd? Undoubtedly so.

Could it be helped? You certainly could try.

And you’d been doing a great job so far; quite a daunting task you patted yourself in the back for. Avoiding the Prince when he’d made it clear he also enjoyed your company proved a lot harder than reaching your dreams, but you pushed through, locking yourself in the unused studio and training day and night.

It wasn’t working well – not on your part, anyway. You’d been here for hours, your clothes uncomfortably sticking to your skin and your water bottles were all emptied.

You’d never felt this tired.

You fell on your knees, palms flat on the floor and sweat salty as it trailed down to your lips. With a groan, you untied your shoes off and stared at the bruised and blued toes, a witness to the countless years of hard work. Your lip quivered as you massaged the sore muscles, tears about to spill as you remembered the Prince.

Beautiful, he was, flawless and porcelain in each movement and breath.

But you? You were battered, scarred, broken and bruised – why would he want you of all people? It was clear he’s had multiple lovers before you. No, scratch that, you were never a lover to begin with. It was all a sham, an agreement formed out of lame survival. There was no beauty in a lie.

The music playing from your stereo kept repeating on loop, this time the tune no longer unrecognizable as your soft cries echoed around the studio. You weren’t beautiful – not enough for him, at least – everyone made that very clear to you.

Just as you wiped your tears away at the back of your hand, standing up to continue another set as you refused to come back home without completing one perfect routine, the doors slammed open. Heavy breathing entered afterwards and you scowled – you worked tooth and bone to claim this place as yours, who dared enter? “This studio is private—” your words fell dry on your skin when a tuft of white hair trudged over to you, his usual placid face replaced with a firm sneer. “Y-Your Highness?”

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

His voice was nothing but demanding, the authority behind them only natural and befitting for someone like him. Each step he took forwards equated to a step backward until your back hit the mirrors, eyes wide as you gazed up at him.

Your voice came out weak. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t act like I’m stupid,” he pointed a finger at you, then scoffed, hands running through the soft locks of his air while he shook his head. You stood there grasping at your tights; having never seen the Prince lose his composure before. “I know you’ve been avoiding me. Every time I try to contact you, you never respond. When I ask your friends where you’ve been, they all tell me you’re busy practicing.”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice again, tone heavy and biting. “I am busy practicing, do you not see that?”

“It’s not the only thing you’re occupied with. Clearly, you are quite determined to stay away from me too,” he bellowed, his loud voice bouncing back from the emptiness of the room. The booming sound must’ve snapped him back to consciousness because Prince Satoru sighed, stepping closer until his warm hand cupped your cheek, starry blue eyes filled with worry and anguish. Had you caused this?

Beautiful, you frowned, that even in his demise he managed to look like fine art. “Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?” he softened, breath warm on your lips. “If yes, then tell me and I’ll do everything it takes to make up for it.”

You fisted his shirt; cheek faced his way because you couldn’t look him in the eye right now. There was no way you’d let him see you cry.

“I don’t understand you, Your Highness,” you murmured, “You’re about to be King – why do you bother yourself with someone like me? I’m nothing compared to you, and I detest being compared to you for I am more than worthy despite not being born of a high ranking like yours.”

Prince Satoru froze. “Is this what this is about? My title bothers you?”

“We should stop whatever we’re doing,” was all you said, pushing him away as gently as you could, ignoring the gnawing pain that grew inside of you when your palms landed on his chest. “It is lowly of me to take advantage of the Crown Prince’s kindness anyway. My success should be paved out of my own hard work and not because of my lame connections to the Crown Prince.”

“Lame connections? Is that all I am to you?”

“You are my Crown Prince, Your Highness,” you reminded him of the stark difference firmly, “You mean a lot to your people, but I do not mean anything to you. I am just another nameless performer lost in the crowd of a thousand other girls who wish to reach their dreams, even if such a star is far beyond our reach,” Tears had now fallen until they formed into crystals on your cheeks, and he blinked back, unsure of what to do. “Could you ever understand what that feels like? To yearn for something you know you could never have but hope for anyway?”

“It would be a lie if I said I did,” he admitted quietly, “But I think I’m beginning to understand. It would make sense to me now – if you keep pushing me away, that is.”

You shook your head begrudgingly. “Your Highness...we shouldn’t.”

“And why not? Who said we couldn’t?”

You don’t stop him this time when he stepped closer once more, trapping you between his arms until you clutched desperately at his shirt, his erratic heartbeat pulsing under your touch. “It’s just you and I – neither a prince nor a performer – simply man and woman who crave each other’s touch. What could be so wrong into giving into one’s desires?” you gasped when his lips fell at the juncture of your neck, your head immediately tilting to the side as you allowed him to ravage you. “You still haven’t given me the chance to let you know what I feel,” he cradled your jaw, caressing your skin as he breathed you’re your ear, voice low and sultry, begging even, “Would you really deny me the pleasure of showing you how beautiful you are to me right now?”

“Satoru,” you keened at his teeth tugging at your skin, fists clenched on shirt. “Touch me.”

“That’s all I ever wanted to do, darling.”

Satoru swept down to capture your lips in his, his grip firm on the swell of your ass he kept you close to him, pressed hip to hip and his hardened front grazing your core through the tights. He pulled a moan from you as he flipped your body over, lips finding home in your neck while his large hand cupped your breast, the other trailing down to finger at your clothed, damp pussy.

In this angle, you could see the despondent way you easily spread your legs for him, your pants like music to ears.

“Do you still not believe me when I say you are worth more than a pound of gold? Look at you – your dripping cunt shines harder than the diamonds I keep in my room,” the both of you groaned when he pushed a finger through your hole, your tights stretching and sucked in by your walls enough to outline the arousal that seeped through. “Maybe I should keep you instead, hmm, don’t you think? You’d be a far grander treasure than all those riches.”

“I am a woman,” you tugged at his hair, panting heavily as he kept fingering into you, his thumb grazing at the sensitive bundle of nerves that swelled under your tight clothes. “I am not to be reduced to a possession you acquire.”

“No, of course not. Nothing could ever replace you in this world,” he growled, harsh in his movements as he tore your clothes with minimal effort.

You yelped when your precious tights had been ripped to the sides, a hole revealing your core and your breasts barely covered with the flimsy fabric. Satoru shuffled his pants down before placing you right on his cock, swallowing your moans with each inch of his length that slid inside you.

Hands dug painfully into his hair, Satoru hissed at the pain, grinning to himself at how wet you were through just light touches and a sloppy kiss. You’ve been good for him, though, you were always good for him that he had to reward you, show you how beautiful you were, and he spread his legs apart, relishing in the sight of you being fucked onto his cock.

“Nothing feels better than your tight pussy, huh? Take a good look at yourself, you’re so fucking precious, taking me so well,” you could only moan in response, unable to take your eyes off the way his length disappeared inside you, a shiver chilling your spine when he grasped at your breasts, nipples tweaked between his fingers. “Nothing, nothing, nothing could compare to this. You feel like heaven, taste like bliss and forgiveness,” he licked at the salty sweat that drowned your body, one of his hands now rolling your clit between his fingers. You screamed, bouncing yourself harder on him with your nails dug deep into his thighs. “You will be the redemption of my darkened soul, are you not?”

“Maybe I will be,” you cried out, head lolled onto his shoulder.

Satoru hummed, his eyes dark and coated with lust when your breasts bounced in front of the mirror. Thanks to years of dancing, you barely felt a stretch when Satoru suddenly lifted your legs up until your thighs were embarrassingly squished against your chest. You knew why he did this; it wasn’t that hard to understand why when he narrowed his focus on the way your juices slipped down his cock, the sounds of your pussy squelching drowning out the operatic music.

Satoru kissed your cheeks to wipe your previous tears away, his hands nothing but grabby and possessive as he gripped the flesh of your thigh. “You already are, sweet thing.”

Pleasure had completely taken over you at this point, that familiar heat building up in your stomach until it snapped into two. Pupils blown wide open, you gasped as you came all over him, your cum creaming down onto his cock until it lined with a thick ring of cum.

It was filthy to say the least, and your body burned at the thought that you were disrespecting him, defiling him with the mess you’ve made. But the Prince only fucked into you harder, his teeth grazing at your already abused skin with relentless and merciless thrusts. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d show you how beautiful he found you, going hell and beyond because you felt nothing but worshipped when he kissed you feverishly, his moans romantic as he came. “S-Satoru!”

“That’s right,” he slipped a finger, the stretch adding a slight tinge of pain that had your hips rutting out in sensitivity, your hole clenching around his everything. “Cum for me. Come on, I know you can do it for me. You’re so good, sweetheart, come for me.”

You were mindlessly babbling his name as both of you came down from your highs. Satoru doesn’t stop once from running hands everywhere, gripping your hips, flicking your nipples, rubbing your clit, and running a finger down your slit to wipe your juices everywhere. It had become too much that you had to push his hand away, legs locking around his arms that refused to stop cupping your pussy.

“Do you see how beautiful you are?” he cooed, shameless and teasing when he brought his hands up to your face, fingers stretched to show the webbing of your arousal between them. “We made such a mess,” he chuckled, his kisses a lot softer now on your neck.

Beautiful, you whimpered internally as you fluttered around nothing.

Satoru must’ve grown an addiction to kissing your lips for he dived in one last time, murmuring the word you always tied him with until they felt printed, tattooed, on your skin. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in this, your kisses slow and sensual as you both enjoyed this serene moment.

He came to this studio to prove you something.

He left the studio with a swelling heart, cheeks resting on your breast as he wrapped his arms around you in the comfort of your worn-out mattress as he asked, can I stay here longer with you?

The cheers and applause directed your way were deafening, the spotlight blinding as you bowed. You gasped for air, every muscle in your body screaming both with delight and exhaustion.

You could barely fathom the crowd hidden in darkness before you, the sight like a black sea, but instead of feeling like you were drowning, you don’t think you’d ever been able to breathe this well before. The smile on your face was bright – brighter than the star you’ve become and bigger than the galaxy and universe you’ve made for yourself – and you waved your arm gracefully, toes pointed outwards while the roses and flowers thrown your way came flooding like a waterfall.

You’d made it.

And through the crowd, at the back where someone the likes of him wasn’t supposed to be, His Majesty’s white hair stuck out like a sore thumb. His draperies were replaced with finer ornaments of gold embroidery, those large hands that had grown accustomed to holding yours and marking handprints on your delicate skin covered with gloves as he applauded, following the crowd from where they all stood.

Your smile directed him was nothing less of a beam, the stars he’d hung for you reflecting back in your eyes. Tears blurred the vision of him for a moment until you saw him again – crystal clear – his expression both proud and longing.

The memory of you and him had been a beautiful one, but it was distant and with each passing day, it blurred until it became nothing like swirls of I love you’s and good luck’s whispered onto one another’s skin. Your heart still soared and broke each time at the sight of him, the majestic Queen hanging off the arm that was locked with yours just years ago a painful reminder that there would always be an invisible divide between you and the Prince you’d fallen in love with.

There was no regret, however, in where things had led. You knew he loved his kind wife as much as he loved you, and he knew you loved him as much as you loved your career, and things were simply just…meant to be this way, you concluded.

It was never supposed to be a great love story that told of breaking traditions. Not all stories were meant to go against the odds; some were told to show that people could be capable of change without having to change anything. You were thankful, still so extremely grateful you met your beloved Prince even as he left the theatre before people crowded around him, leaving you to your devices until you retired back into the changing room, a set of rare flowers only a certain person could afford.

Beautiful, you cried as you picked up the card, his once messy scrawls improved into a neater cursive befitting for the new King.

And so it was that you parted ways, with him leading his country into further prosperity while you moved away and stole people’s hearts with each phenomenal show, one after the other.

Your summer rendezvous with the Prince was not meant to be a love story that went against all odds; you were there to save each other from reaching damnation, loving one another as passionately as your souls were able to until you picked each other back up.

Once the other stood firm, tall, and ready to take on the world with their bare hands, you pushed one another in your respective directions.

Beautiful, you smiled as you clutched at his present close to your heart where he’d built a garden out of itself, that we’d saved each other from falling from grace.

[parkers-gal]

can u do one where is ag!reader’s birthday party and there’s a lot of celebrities there (like rihanna, beyonce, kylie, doja, megan...) and she introduce tom and the boys too to them? i love your writing 🥺💙

aww🥺

this sucks but i tried lol

wc: 1.8k

—

“C’mon, babes!” You pull him into your side. “It’ll be so much fun! And besides, you’re a social butterfly. You’ll fit right in,” you smile with some extra pep, and Tom laughs in response, finally nodding in agreement.

“Alright. But don’t touch your present until it’s time.” “I won’t!” You squeal. “That was one time!”

“One time too many!”

“Fine, fine,” you stand up. “C’mon, take a shower with me.”

Tom raises a brow, “Oh?”

“It’s my birthday,” you smirk, “I can have whatever I want.”

“That indeed, darling,” he’s pulled up by your arms, and the two of you go off to get ready for the party in just a few hours.

Finally, forty minutes later, you’ve dressed and prepared to drive down to the country club you’ve rented out for the party. You don’t normally make such a big deal about your birthday, but because of the success of your recent album, you know everyone would want to rejoice after all the time in quarantine.

Applying your last bit of lip liner, Tom comes strolling in while adjusting his Rolex watch. He reaches for the comb sitting in the top drawer, and you admire how sensual he looks getting ready.

“See something you like, love?”

“Ah ah ah,” You stop him. “I get free access to gawk over your hands. Today is shame-free, baby,” You do the rock ‘n’ roll sign for dramatics, and Tom teasingly rolls his eyes.

“Okay, go sit in the car, love. I need to get your present into the trunk while you aren’t eyeing my hands.”

“Yeah yeah,” You wave him off, and as you leave the bathroom, Tom playfully slaps your ass, sparking a giggle from you.

Afterward, when you finally do arrive, your mom and close friends/choreographers have already made sure the setup was complete. The first few guests to arrive are your closest confidants: Victoria Monet, Tommy Brown, Scootie and Mikey, Tayla Parx, and Courtney Chipolone.

“You look good, girl!” Victoria greets you with a soft hug, her highlight accentuating the beautiful shades of her skin.

“You too!” you reciprocate her excitement.

“And happy birthday,” she holds you at arm’s length before turning to Tom. “Treating the birthday girl well?”

“Of course, of course,” he clasps his hands together and smiles so wide that his eye crinkles show. You smile at that, hand going to the small of his back to pull him closer.

More people arrive, and soon enough the hall is packed and you’ve lost Tom in a crowd of familiar faces. You see him sitting at the bar, engaging in conversation with his brother Sam and Scott, your choreographer. Deciding to make your way over to him, you’re halfway through the bunch of the crowd when Abel stops you to catch up.

“Oh-! Can I be right back?”

He nods with a smile, sipping his cocktail and letting you run off again. Quickly, you make your way to the barstool that seats Tom.

“Hey love,” he greets.

“Hi, baby,” You curl into his side, waving gently to the boys sitting beside him. “C’mon, I want you to meet some people.”

“Welp,” Tom stands, “That’s my cue.” The three of them share a laugh and then he’s linking his hand with yours and letting you take the lead.

“You know The Weeknd, right?”

“What?” Tom stops, and because his hand is linked with yours it stops you too. “No, love, that’s- I’m- you can’t introduce me to him!”

“Why not?” You giggle. “He’s just a person.”

“Yeah, and extremely talented and successful person who my brother happens to obsess over.” You roll your eyes teasingly while beginning to pull him along again. “You’ll be fine, you big baby. Besides, he’s always wanted to meet you.”

“Alright,” he mumbles, still nervous but trusting you. Before long, he’s standing in front of the “After Hours,” singer, shaking his hand and engrossing himself in easy conversation. It flows so well that Tom almost doesn’t remember being nervous to meet him.

“I’m gonna get a refill,” He excuses himself. “It was great to catch up, Y/N/N. And nice meeting you, Tom,” he pats Tom’s shoulder as the two of you wave him goodbye.

Tom lets out a heavy breath, one of relief and pure excitement from having just met another big-time celebrity.

“Look at you, big guy,” you tease, tapping his shoulders in a taunting manner. Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, catching your hands with his and pulling you to his chest for an almost kiss.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“Make me.”

And he does — with his lips. When the two of you separate, you spot a group of girls in the corner and you immediately light up. Tom doesn’t have time to process what’s happening before you’re tugging him along to another side of the room.

“C’mon! There‘re more people I want you to meet!”

“Love! I’m not prepared!” he whisper-shouts. You ignore his pleas and enlargen the circle of familiar friends.

“Girlies!” they squeal as you greet them. “It’s good to see you all! There’s someone I wanna introduce you all to…” You pull Tom along, who’s a blushing, bashful mess of British and messy curls. “Tom, this is Doja, Megan, and Nicki.” You gesture to each one as you say their names. “Guys, this is Tom, my boyfriend.”

“The one you always talk about in the studio?”

“Oh, that one! In all your pictures! He’s the one on your lock screen, right?”

Nicki chuckles from behind her champagne glass, observing the encounter unravel.

“Is that so, darling?” Tom eyes you, and you groan dramatically. “Didn’t know you were so head over heels for me.”

“Oh… hush,” you sass him, and everyone laughs.

“A little birdie told me you had something to do with the makings of Positions…” Nicki teases.

You gasp, feigning shock. “I never should’ve told you that! Ugh,” You groan again, and everyone laughs at your flustered state. “I slipped up one time. One! Time!”

“Feel free to keep slipping up, then,” Tom teases. You lightly slap his upper chest and he giggles, pulling you in to steal another kiss.

“Y/N says you’ve just wrapped filming with Zendaya…?” Doja suggests, and Tom immediately lights up again.

“Oh, yeah! Spider-man three. Actually, I think Daya may be here.”

“She is,” You confirm. “She’s with Jacob and Harry by the pool table.”

“I’m gonna introduce myself,” Doja smiles slyly, and you and Tom share a laugh at her antics. Megan trails after her, champagne glass still in her hands.

“Don’t embarrass me!” She stops to speak to you one last time. “Oh, and happy birthday, Y/N. It was really nice meeting you, Tom,” she waves and Tom returns the gesture.

The two of you are left alone with Nicki, who’s speaking to a man that Tom guesses to be her boyfriend. You pull Tom along again, settling by the snack table to grab a few churros and pretzels.

“So? Whaddya think?”

“Megan had really nice nails,” He says through bites.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he smiles, though his mouth is stuffed. “Super pretty.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to tell her.”

Tom chuckles softly, sipping some bottled water. You watch the way his jawline accentuates and you have to force your eyes away from his soft skin and back to the cinnamon delight in your hands.

“Nicki is literally just like her songs. Like- she talks in the same way. It’s so funny.”

“Yeah,” you lick your lips, mindlessly giving Tom the rest of your churro while he hands you his half-empty water bottle. “She’s such an entertaining person. It’d be fun to get together with her one day.”

“Definitely,” Tom smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Who’s next?”

“I think Kylie and her sister are here.”

“Oh my god,” he swallows. “Is Stormi here?”

“Of course you’d ask that.” You roll your eyes, putting the bottle into the recycling bin and pulling Tom towards a gathering of couches and lounge chairs. When you spot her, Travis Scott is taking pictures for what you assume to be her Instagram. She’s dressed in a skin-tight dress and some elegant heels, and you make a mental note to compliment her later.

“Kylie!” You make yourself known. She lets out a soft “oh!” and stands immediately to hug you. Travis turns his phone off and shakes Tom’s hand while you talk with Kylie. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you! Happy birthday,” She smiles before turning to Tom.

“Hey. I’m Tom. Y/N’s-”

“Boyfriend,” She finishes, shaking his hand. “I’m Kylie.”

When you notice Travis making his way back over to the three of you, you see Stormi in his arms and from your peripheral vision, Tom is bouncing on his feet in excitement.

“Stormi, this is Tom. He wanted to meet you,” Travis whispers softly, setting her down on her feet. She gravitates towards Tom, and the two of them start talking rather passionately about something fun. You chuckle at them, but you can’t help admiring Tom for his skills with kids.

You talk with Kylie about the past few months, and after several minutes, you see Harry and Harrison making their way over to you and Tom.

“And who’s this little lady?” Harrison smiles when Stormi giggles, and he kneels to her level.

“Stormi,” She says softly. Both Harrison and Tom clap and praise the sweet girl for introducing herself all on her own. Tom takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs, and Stormi finds comfort on his left leg while playing with his right hand. They discuss which nail polish colors would be best with Tom’s look, and you indulge in Kylie’s newest beauty and skincare products.

Later on, you’re back at the snack table with Tom, and after sufficiently filling up, you offer another suggestion. “Up for meeting Madonna again?”

Tom’s eyes widen and he groans, shaking his head in panic. “No. Absolutely not. Not after what happened last time-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you say between laughs, grabbing his hand to calm him down. You wrap your arms around his neck and link your hands, leaning against him in a slow-dance position. His hands find the skin of your waist in comfort. The moment doesn’t last long when you notice Tom’s brothers making their way over with a glint in their eyes — you know they want something.

“What do you divs want?” Tom asks, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Well…”

“We heard Nicki Minaj is here,” Harrison interrupts Sam.

“Would you introduce us?” Harry beams in hope. He looks almost nervous, albeit still excited, about asking. Whether that’s because you might say no, or because she’s one of his favorite artists, neither you nor Tom know.

Separating from Tom, you let out a deep and exasperated breath, smiling goodbye and unlinking your hand with his. “Here we go again!” You whisper while the boys pull you along in the direction of the Queen of Rap.

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

��So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

.

.

.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[magnoliabloomfield]

Possession 14

This one is so long!! The next one will be the finale. This one has a trigger warning for crude remarks of a sexual nature to incite anger and violence, but it's nothing above a PG13 rating. And we finally get some hot cinnamon fluff, as spicy as I go lol

~~~~

Nothing in the short span of Nikola’s memorable life was harder than trying to keep a platonic distance between her and Gally. All that went through her head was that determined look on his face and the words ‘I’m yours’ passing his lips. She knew what he meant really amounted to ‘I’m your friend’, but ‘I’m yours’ just sounded so good.

Even though Alby had been helpful when Shawn had pulled his stunt, Nikola started to feel some negativity toward him, somehow blaming only him for the rule about belonging. Who had the right to dictate who one could and couldn’t belong to? She was also plenty mad at Shawn too for a lot more.

There was one day where she was thoroughly distracted though, her thoughts were far away from Alby and Shawn, and even Gally was pushed back ever so slightly. One of the goats had given birth but didn’t survive it. Nikola was caring for the orphaned kid and received much needed help and support from the dog cleverly named Bark. Honestly, boys had no imagination.

Winston had said that taking care of the kid was more trouble than it was worth, that he could put a quick and painless end to it, and Nikola was horrified.

“If you take that attitude with poor baby animals you’ll soon be taking it with human beings,” she had told him. “And the last thing we need inside the glade is people acting like the ones who sent us here.”

That had shut him up right quick, in fact, he got quite contemplative about his role as a slicer after that. He must have told others about it because soon some of the other boys were coming to check on the goat or offering to watch it while she tended to other things she needed to do. It was a positive turn on things in the glade and her position in their little world. Maybe she had gained some respect, maybe she had become more than an object in some of their minds and achieved real human status.

Either way, it lulled her into a place of comfort where she never would have guessed what was about to happen.

As she sat in the grass watching Bark be the little goat’s cheerleader as it took wobbly steps around the meadow, a shadow loomed over her. She looked up, hoping to see Gally, but she already had a bad feeling in her gut.

Shawn stood over her, hands stuffed in his pockets and looking out over the meadow as well. She didn’t say anything to him, just stared and waited a moment for him to say something. When he remained silent she turned back to what she was doing even though turning her back on him made her feel nervous. Still, she tried not to show fear.

“You don’t like me very much,” he finally stated.

“Have you given me a reason to like you?” she responded, not looking at him still.

“But you didn’t even like me before I did… that,” he pointed out, meaning the stunt he pulled trying to get her and Gally in trouble.

“That’s true,” she didn’t even lie. “And it turns out my gut was right.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you already liked someone else? Liked them more than you should?”

Nikola felt a confrontational spirit overtake her body and she whirled around to look at him, to let fly some angry words, but he had turned and started walking off before she could get one of them off her tongue. Somehow he wasn’t worth chasing down, but what he said bothered her long after he was gone.

~~~~

Gally was in the deadheads, collecting wood again. Nikola had been so enamored with caring for the kid and so many boys had gotten on board with being a bit more empathetic that Gally thought he would build something where any other pregnant animals could safely and comfortably give birth and care for their little ones.

Really though, Winston had told him and some of the others what she had said to him and Gally took it to heart as many of the others had as well. They did not want to have anything in common with the people who sent them there. And the only proper role model was bright, hopeful, empathetic Nikola.

As Gally’s thoughts wandered around the subject of her he wandered farther into the deadheads, not noticing how he was getting farther from the other builders out there with him.

He was imagining a house he would build by the ocean, a white house made of good wood with a proper door and windows and roof. He’d build it for Nikola and she deserved the best. Of course, in his imagination they lived in it together. They would stroll along the beach, hand in hand, with no one to cause them problems, and when they were done they’d return to their safe, warm house. There would be no glade, no maze, no wicked. Just them and peace.

“Oh Gally, Gally, Gally,” someone sighed, breaking him out of his daydreams.

He looked over and noticed Shawn with two other baggers and his guts tied themselves in knots. He was there to cause trouble again. This time Alby and Newt weren’t around, they were secluded, which probably meant they were going to attempt to beat the shuck out of him he guessed.

With a sigh of his own Gally tossed aside the wood he had collected and brushed the dirt off his hands. He was almost glad to have an opportunity to cause Shawn physical pain. He stared the other boy down in silence just waiting for a reason.

Shawn wasn’t much of a fan of Gally and Nikola’s tendency to hold their tongues, a talent he himself did not possess. Shawn glanced down with a slight chuckle, shaking his head at the ridiculous situation.

“I don’t get it,” Shawn said to Gally with fake sincerity. “Maybe you can explain it to me, help me understand. How did you get Nikola to like you so much?”

Gally crossed his arms and didn’t respond to the obviously rhetorical question.

“I mean, you’re one of the ugliest shanks here,” Shawn said, unable to hold back his malicious grin while his friends chuckled behind him.

Gally wouldn’t be provoked by simple insults.

“No one here really likes you. You’re a bossy, demanding, control freak who can’t take a joke and thinks he’s smarter than everyone else,” Shawn went on eyeing Gally up for his reaction to that. The fair and freckled builder had not turned even the slightest shade of red, which made Shawn switch up his tactic. “Nikola is nothing like you. She likes to put on her mask and seem tough, but, ooh… she is soft. Isn’t she?”

Shawn had stepped up to Gally and spoke softer, laying it on thick. “Is she soft Gally? Do you even know? I bet she is under all those clothes, soft enough to sink your teeth into,” Shawn smiled when a crimson shade started blooming behind Gally’s unmoved expression. He was getting on the right track now. “I want to take a bite so bad, you know? I bet she tastes so good, even down to her p-“

Gally’s hands shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt, almost yanking him off his feet. Shawn wanted Gally to land the first blow and he was close, but no cigar.

“Is there a point to all this?” Gally asked, shoving Shawn away from him.

“I’m just making conversation on our common interest,” Shawn said holding his hands up. “You know what I mean, right? You’ve thought about it, don’t try to tell me you haven’t.”

Shawn and his goons laughed but Gally didn’t react. He suddenly felt bad that he’d in fact had thoughts about Nikola that were less than platonic, but not nearly as skeevy as what Shaw was getting at.

“But there’s something serious I want to ask you, big guy, did you really get in there? Because I’m just wondering how loose things are going to be when I get to her-“

And thats when Gally’s fist connected with his skull. Shawn was knocked to the ground with unpredicted force, but Gally was instantly over him trying to haul him back up by the front of his shirt as the other boys came to Shawn’s defense. They tried to separate them, the whole idea was to get Gally put in the pit or banished for harming another glader, then the biggest obstacle between Shawn and Nikola would be gone.

Gally was so angry he could hardly be restrained even as he was outnumbered. He managed to get Shawn back up on his feet, hands still gripping his shirt even as the other boys tried to gain control over his arms. He couldn’t get another punch in this way so he did what he could and smashed Shawn’s nose with his forehead.

Shawn flew back with a cry of pain as he held his nose, launched out of Gally’s grip. He could barely keep his watering eyes open but he managed to throw a punch and land it on Gally’s face as the others held him back as best they could.

“I thought he was just supposed to hit you?” One of the boys questioned.

“Shuck that,” Shawn growled as blood and tears streamed down his face. “He’s getting what he deserves.”

With his brute strength alone, Gally made quite an impressive stand for as long as he could, but three against one were never favorable odds. No one was walking away from the encounter without injury, but Gally was taking the brunt of it as it went on. He didn’t care, he’d rather be their target than Nikola. He’d take as many punches as he had to for her.

“Gally!”

‘Oh. Oh God no,’ Gally thought as his guts plummeted even as he was kicked in the ribs. He hoped it was brain damage and not that Nikola was actually there.

Shawn looked behind him, moving enough to expose Nikola standing there in the deadheads with a look of horror on her face.

‘Run!’ Gally begged her in his mind as he spat blood from his mouth and fought to catch his breath.

Shawn sprinted for her and she turned to run, half a cry for help passing her lips before Shawn clamped his hand over her mouth and wrapped his other arm tightly around her. She kicked, thrashed and struggled so hard it made Gally proud of her as he tried to summon all his strength to get up and defend her. He knocked the legs out of under one boy and tried to get to his own feet. The other boy tackled him back down to the ground and soon enough the first one assisted in weighing him down.

She really was giving Shawn a run for his money and almost slipped out of his grip when she bucked and then went dead weight. He managed to grab her pony tail and wrap it around his hand so she couldn’t pull free. His other hand had slipped from her mouth for a moment and she did her best to scream again but Shawn’s hand slapped across her mouth again as he kept her low to the ground by her hair.

“Shut up, you stupid- Ah!” Shawn was the one screaming now, a long, loud, sustained cry of pain that alerted the glade as well as anything Nikola could have produced herself.

Gally tried to see what was going on and could only gather that his hand was still near her mouth. He couldn’t take her being in danger, he had to do something, he had to get to her, he promised he’d protect her. Pure adrenaline, fear, and something else coursed through his system and he forced himself to ignore the pain. He pushed himself up with a yell of exertion and managed to elbow one boy in the jaw hard. Gally rolled over on the other boy and elbowed him hard in the side before he tried getting up as quickly as possible. It was hard, too hard and would take too long so he tried to army crawl away and hopefully he’d work his feet back under himself as he went.

But help had finally arrived. There were so many boys around Shawn and Nikola now, all clamoring over the sustained sound of Shawn’s wounded wails. Some other boys broke away and grabbed up the ones that had held Gally down. Alby, Clint, and Jeff were towing Shawn away already and then Nikola was pushing her way through Newt and Minho who were trying to see if she was ok. She sprinted over to where Gally had finally gotten up on his hands and knees and fell to her own in front of him.

“Gally! Oh my god,” her voice shook as much as her hands as they gently took him by the shoulders. “Is anything broken?”

He managed to push himself up onto his knees and sit back on his heels. He finally got a good look at her and saw a bruise already forming next to her eye and blood around her mouth.

“Are you ok?” He asked her, looking at the blood with concern, reaching up and touching her chin.

“I’m fine,” she shook her head, impatient to find out if he was ok. “It’s Shawn’s, I bit him.”

“You bit him?” Gally repeated sounding amused as a smile tugged his split lip painfully.

“I’ve never seen him smile after getting his ass kicked,” Newt said with concern as he knelt beside Nikola in front of Gally.

“I’ve never seen him get his ass kicked,” Minho mumbled as he stood behind them.

“We should get him to the infirmary,” Newt said which Nikola whole heartedly agreed with.

“But Shawn is in there now getting put back together, probably gonna be a while since you practically degloved his finger,” Minho pointed out.

“You did?” Gally panted, impressed.

“No, and that’s not important right now,” she said agitatedly. “Can we help Gally, please?”

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Gally waved them off as he tried to sit more comfortably.

“Uh, no. You’re not,” Nikola said as she gently placed her hand over his bruised and bloodied one.

“No broken legs, no broken arms,” Gally said before using his free hand to feel his abdomen. “And no broken ribs. I’ll be ok.”

“Gally,” Nikola started to complain, her eyes sadly staring deep into his. It made him feel better.

“What happened?” Newt asked him.

Gally sighed and tried to roll his eyes but it only made him feel dizzy. “Shawn came out here to get me alone and beat me up. As you can see.”

“He just came out here and started throwing punches?” Minho piped up.

“No,” Gally admitted as he looked down and brushed his thumb gently over Nikola’s fingers still resting on his hand. “He made me hit him first.”

“He made you,” Minho repeated incredulously.

“Yes, he did,” Gally said firmly as he looked up at Minho before glancing quickly but meaningfully at Nikola.

“What?” she asked softly. Of course she noticed, she hadn’t taken her eyes off him for a second, but now she slowly pulled her hand back. “It was because of me?”

“No, Nikola, it’s not your fault,” Gally tried to tell her, reaching out for her again.

“But it’s because of me,” she said more firmly as she got more upset.

“No,” Gally said even as her eyes got shiny and she got to her feet. “Nikola, wait.”

She took a few steps backwards and her hands covered her mouth before she turned a hurried off.

Gally gave an exasperated groan as he tried to get up on his feet to go after her.

“Hold on,” Newt said, halting him.

“No, I can’t let her think this is her fault,” Gally fought him weakly.

“I think she’ll live if you let her cry in peace for a moment, she’s processing what Shawn just did to her too,” Newt said.

“She shouldn’t be alone,” Gally argued with that too and Newt saw an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes, a concern bordering on desperate.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Minho said before sprinting off after her.

“He hurt her, he put his hands on her,” Gally said as dark anger covered up the raw and tender emotion that was there before, his eyes even took a glassy sheen that pooled but would not spill over his lower lashes.

“I know he did,” Newt assured him. “And he’s going to pay for it.”

~~~~

Eventually they moved Shawn out of the medhut even though he still needed attention, and Newt helped Gally there for his turn. He kept an eye out for Nikola all the way there and only gave in to his pathetic despair once the medhut door shut behind him. He lay with a heavy groan on the cot, gravity pulling a tear from the corner of his eye. He covered his eyes with one arm, even though it hurt to rest it over his bruised face, so neither medjack could see it.

“You put up a good fight,” Jeff said after checking him over. “Nothing too terrible here… hang tight for minute, ok?”

Gally just sighed as he heard the door close behind him, the chatter of the glade murmuring through the walls around him. He just thought about Nikola and the look on her face, how she screamed his name and tried to help him. He wanted to feel angry, angry at Shawn for laying a finger on her, wanted to shove him through the maze doors that very night, but all he felt was a sadness, deep and aching. He wanted to see Nikola and make sure she was ok.

The door opened and closed again with an extra thud and footsteps approached him. He didn’t move a muscle or give it a thought until he felt her hand on his again. He pulled his arm down and ignored the scream of his muscles and bruises as he pulled himself to a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of cot.

“Nikola,” he breathed, all other speaking ability leaving his head as he looked at her sitting in front of him.

“Hey,” she said giving him an uncertain half smile. “The medjacks are short staffed today, so I’ll take care of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t,” he said, the very idea that he would mind was ridiculous.

Still he didn’t really know what to say to her as she started cleaning and bandaging his wounds starting with his hands. Her face was turned down as she focused on them and he watched her, feeling her gentle and caring touch on his large, rough hands. She was being more thorough and precise than Clint or Jeff had ever been.

After finishing his hands in silence she looked up at him for the first time since she came in, her eyes darting between each bruise and cut. Suddenly her chin was wobbling and the corners of her mouth turned down. In a matter of moments she was crying and he had no idea what to do. Her hands gently touched his face as she kept looking at his injuries.

“Look what they did to you,” she said quietly through the tears she was trying to hold back, leaning in closer to him. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt, but especially not you,” she said as the tears forced their way out, and then her arms gently wound themselves around his shoulders and tried to pull her closer to him.

It was too big of a stretch so she just moved herself right onto his lap, burying her face in his shoulder and crying. The pain left as his body became aware only of hers pressed against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder in return and carefully held her, feeling her there under his fingertips like a dream come to life.

She lifted her head, her sobs dying down and slowing altogether as she stayed there with her cheek against his. He dared not move, he wasn’t ready for the dream to end. She pulled back slowly, her cheek brushing his and then her nose as she turned her face. She was moving slowly, keeping her face close to his. Her nose brushed against his and he felt like his heart had caught flame and was whistling off like a firecracker. And when those soft, pink lips brushed over his, pressing a brief and gentle kiss there the firecracker exploded.

She pulled back to look at him, her red and puffy eyes taking him in. “You let me do that,” she observed, biting her lip to hold in a smile. “If you minded-“

“I would have said so,” he replied watching her look at him with as much tender adoration as he felt for her.

She smiled before she leaned in, carefully bringing her lips to his split and bruised mouth and he kissed her back this time, he didn’t care how much his lip hurt, it didn’t matter, it was nothing. She was everything. He brought a hand to her face as he felt one of hers on the back of his neck while the other slipped over his shoulder and down his chest. It slipped back up till both of her hands were cradling his neck as he kissed her again. They pulled away an inch or so and looked into each other’s eyes, his hand resting on her shoulder. He never wanted to let her go.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she admitted, bringing a bashful blush to his face. “But I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you’d just settle for me since I’m the only girl around.”

He swallowed and tilted her chin back up to look at him. “You’re the best thing that will ever happen to me.”

That must have been the right answer because it brought on more tears and another kiss.

“Ok, let’s finish getting you taken care of,” Nikola sighed contentedly as she brushed his nose with hers once more, something she seemed to like doing, and reached for the first aid supplies from her spot on his lap.

“A little late for this question, but should we be worried about someone coming in here?” he asked, gently holding her around the waist.

“I locked the door,” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to reach for something else.

He looked up at her in wonder as she took care of everything that ailed him, kissing each bandage and bruise, her little fingers tracing his features as she went along. He leaned in to each touch as he held her comfortingly on his lap, until he was treated. She hugged him, her hands rubbing his back soothingly until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

Masterlist

@frequentlychangingfandoms @quackquackbi @poulterjonas @crazysheeplyca @pre-google @gladerscake @neilox @thesuitkovian @carp3d1em @cottoncandy-dreamxd @emilyhadenbaker

[nekrophoria]

For Mel : Favorites : ALL, Routines : 4, 7, 9,10, Philosophy : 1, 8, 10, Other : 4. Thanks !

Thank you so much for asking :D

Here ya go:

Favourites:

Candy?

These fuckers:

Honestly chocolate of any kind but mint Penguins are the love of his life.

Kind of pizza?

He's not really picky, he used to just go with plain ol Margherita until he got to try Barbeque bacon pizza at a friend's. Now "anything bacon" is his go to choice when it comes to pizza

Keep mushrooms and pineapples FAR away from him though .

Flavor of donut?

The only Donuts he ever had were with jam filling and he can't really say he liked them very much.

So yeah he doesn't really have one.

Amusement park/carnival activity?

He's not really a fan of rides, he's more the type to just stroll around and enjoy the atmosphere .

Pro tip: Keep him away from claw machines though, he's easily tempted by cute plushies.

Pair of shoes?

Plain ol' chucks used to be his favourite brand, but at this point he doesn't really give a shit anymore.

He does wish however he would have opted for more stable shoes than chucks as a teenager because it didn't take long for his current pair to be riddled with holes.

Type of weather?

Rain.

Bird?

Ravens, Crows (for the aesthetic) and Pigeons

But honestly anything he can chill with on a park bench.

Scent?

He doesn't really have a favourite per se...he loves the scent of cinnamon though, and weirdly enough, the smell pipe tobacco, most of likely due to his godfather being an avid pipe smoker when Mel was really young.

Color?

It's a draw between green and black.

Subject in school?

English, mainly the literature part though.

Routine

4. Right-handed or left-handed?

Both, sorta...

Long story short (because spoilers and shit) Mel started out as left handed, but his mother basically "trained" him to use the right hand, which ended up being the hand he primarily uses. However when he was 22 a self inflicted injury caused him to have minor nerve damage in his right arm, which resulted in him having to use his left hand more at times.

He still mainly uses his right hand whenever he can, while his alter Mabon (among a few others) prefer the left hand.

7. What song is likely to be in their Most Played list?

Uff...

I was gonna say most likely a Korn song, but he doesn't listen to much Korn anymore, unless he's in a really bad place mentally.

"Rusted From the Rain" by Billy Talent is probably his most played at the moment. He didn't really appreciate the song when it came out but it's grown on him quite a bit since then.

9. What do they do first thing in the morning?

He probably just lies in bed for a bit and tries to process his surroundings, then he probably smokes whatever cigarette buds he has around while trying to ignore his hangover.

He then either goes to sleep again or tries to gather the mental strength to actually get up, it depends on how he feels.

Once he actually manages to get up the first thing he will do is find out what day it is and write it in his notebook.

10. What’s the last thing they do before they go to bed?

He has a few smokes and drinks until he eventually blacks out.

Philosophy

1. Do they believe in soulmates or fate?

He is unsure about fate, if anything he perceives it more as a cruel force of nature.

He definitely doesn't believe in soul mates though.

8. What do they value above all else? 

...Empathy and compassion.

He has huge respect for people who can feel strongly for others. And who aren't afraid to show it.

Ironically since that is a trait he despises about himself.

10. Do they have a creed or code that they live by?

Not really to be honest.

He kinda just goes through life without really anticipating what's going on around him anymore.

Other

4. Would they rather be a pirate, a cowboy, a ninja, or an astronaut?

Hmmm...ninja probably. He hates horses so he wouldn't last long as a cowboy, he ain't the biggest fan of water either so pirate is also a no go...and...space kinda creeps the shit outta him too ever since he watched Alien so...yeah...ninja it is.