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the-old-witch-writes · 2 years

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“even in her helplessness” (Sanji x afab!Reader) 18+

title: “even in her helplessness”

fandom: One Piece

pairing: Sanji x afab!Reader (with she/her pronouns used, as well as pussy/cunt to describe genitals)

rating: MA/Explicit (minors/age less blogs dni)

content warning: consensual somnophilia (with drugging), implied established codes & scene negotiations, explicit sexual content, obnoxious use of petnames…and tea; also a somewhat blatant reference to Anne Rice’s The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty

also on ao3! posted as anonymous because i'm anxious abt using my penname on there

almost immediately after dinner that evening, everyone in the crew drifts from the galley, intending to spend the rest of the evening wherever they please aboard the Thousand Sunny. usually, you tag along with Nami and Robin as they head down to the aquarium lounge, but tonight, you tell Nami that you’ll be heading to bed early, after you have some special tea Sanji prepares for you.

despite pouting at your response, Nami sighs and lets you go—“You better join us tomorrow night, hun! You owe me a drink, after all.”—and although you already feel your wallet sobbing, you can’t help but giggle and promise to do so.

towards him, Nami coos sweetly, “Make sure to bring Robin and I some dessert when you’re done, Sanji-kun!”

he spins to her instantly, his eyes glowing with all the love and affection that arises from him whenever she, you, and Robin—or any woman—are around him.

“As you wish, Nami-swan~! Just let me finish these dishes and take care of my Princess here, and I’ll be right with you!” Sanji declares, throwing you a pointed look that sends heat searing down your spine.

letting out a giggle, Nami exits the galley, leaving you alone with him.

he goes back to doing the dinner dishes. there’s a bit of a bounce in his movements now, as he’s likely looking forward to meeting up with Nami and Robin to give them their dessert later—when he’s finished with you, of course.

you stare at the expanse of his back, heat rising to your neck and your mouth suddenly dry as you take in the line of his shoulders, how his almost gold hair settles at the nape of his neck. you recall how, just a few minutes ago when you spoke to Nami, his blue eyes darkened knowingly when you mentioned wanting tea, how his warm, lovesick smile widened into a ghost of a smirk.

he already knows, you think, heart hammering against ribs. the two of you have been doing this off and on for a month now, already have a system in place when it comes to this sort of play, but you never fail to feel the thrill of it all. just confirm it with him.

but Sanji breaks the silence first.

“You really wanna turn in early, Princess?” he asks, his tone casual—like he’s talking about the weather—but the bass he puts into his voice hints otherwise.

again, that infernal blush that floods your face, you just can’t help it. by now, this dance is familiar to the both of you; and yet he still insists on hearing you voice your desires. it’s embarrassing and frustrating, but it also makes desire simmer in your blood.

so, you nod while saying softly, “Yes.”

he pauses for a second, right in the middle of drying a plate. then, he turns his face the slightest—still not facing you, but enough to see the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, a hint of his smile. (a smirk?)

he still asks, just to make sure you’re both on the same page: “Which kind do you want tonight?”

And you make sure to give the correct answer, so he understands what you’re asking for: “The passionflower blend, please.”

again, he pauses, revealing nothing of what he feels for a moment. then, with a slightly shaky exhale, he places the plate he’s dried atop the pile that’s already clean and ready to be placed back in the cabinets. you watch him then dip his hands in the sink again, his movements almost too meticulous, too slow. it feels like a tease, like the very string of sanity within your mind is being pulled to its limit. slowly, as your gaze takes in his beautiful hands, you swallow hard.

“Just let me finish this last one and I’ll get you your tea,” he tells you.

“...Okay.”

your hands clench together in your lap, palms pressed together and fingers twisting around each other. your teeth catch your bottom lip as you watch him. how he acts with you right now, as he’s acted during the other nights, is such a contrast that it steals the breath from your lungs. after sailing with the crew for two years, you are already quite used to Sanji being flamboyant in his affections; seeing him spin and cry out those nicknames at you and the other women have started becoming a comfort, even. those early days of him getting you flustered from his constant praises, and embarrassing flirting, are dead and gone. but these moments? when he’s in control of your reactions and he knows it—it’s different. it’s new, every time. it should be embarrassing, and to some degree it is; but it also offers a whole other layer of comfort.

it reminds you that you can always trust Sanji to care for you—to make sure you’re fed, to make sure you’re unharmed by any nearby enemies, to make sure someone’s there to listen to you in case the night terrors become too much sometimes, to make sure you feel loved, even by someone who loves other women so freely and fervently—and to make sure you get everything you need from him.

just like tonight.

you’re pulled from your thoughts when his hands finally place the last plate down, when they move to fill the teapot with cold water, and then—once the water inside begins to boil—when they search the cabinet for a packet of your favorite tea. after a minute, the teapot clicks to signal that the water is boiled, and then Sanji removes it from the stove to pour into the mug where your tea will seep. by now, your hands are atop the dining table, fingers tapping almost furiously against the wood.

Sanji takes notice, of course he does, his one revealed eye darting to you. he hums softly, smiling as he goes back to preparing your tea.

“You still need to work on your patience, dearest,” he tells you while removing the teabag—the water now a light and fragrant, near orange color—and then adding a little something extra to your tea. “Things like this shouldn’t be rushed.”

you shrink back a little, shoulders hunching. “I know,” you say, voice small. “I-I’m sorry. I know I ask so much from you—”

“Oh, no, I have no problems with that. Sweetness, I’d do anything for you—anything,” Sanji says, his gaze warm. With a glance at the mug, he picks it up and brings it over to you, taking a seat across the table from you. With a sly grin, he reaches out and strokes his finger along the curve of your cheek, eventually bending it under your chin. “But you are a bit of a brat.”

a smile spreads across your face, a mix of sweet and cheek, as you say, “Only sometimes.”

“That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Well, if it bothers you that much, you could always do something about it.”

“You shouldn’t tempt me, I might take that offer one day.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you reply, heat rising to your cheeks. “I trust you, Sanji.”

he pauses to level you with a stare, his eyes suddenly resembling the ocean during a storm. you watch his chest expand as he takes one breath, then another, the tips of his ears turning hot pink. then he nods towards your steaming mug of tea.

“Drink your tea,” Sanji says, a gentle command that has you sitting up straight. “Before it gets cold.”

you reach for the mug instantly and tilt the opening towards your mouth, the first sip of tea dripping onto your tongue. you taste the bittersweetness of the passionflower, mixed with chamomile and other herbs, along with that other special ingredient. after swallowing, you rest the mug down and pause to lick your lips, looking Sanji right in the eye all the while. there’s a tense moment where you two stare at each other before you lift the mug again and take another sip.

it isn’t long before your cup begins to empty, but it will still take some time for the tea to take effect. to help pass the time, you decide to start a conversation with him.

“I really liked how you made that dish tonight,” you say. “I’ve never had anything like it. How did you learn to make it?”

his eyes light up instantly—Sanji is always ready to talk about his craft, though he does keep some secrets to himself—and he goes on to start a story about a time when he was still working in Baratie. his voice is full of excitement, nostalgia; you almost feel like you were there, like you can see the restaurant that was his home for much of his adolescence.

it’s a beautiful story—any time Sanji opens up to you about Zeff and Baratie, you are immediately engaged—and you can’t help but feel soothed by the timbre in his voice. it’s easy to let it all wash over you as you finish your tea, as the drink settles in your blood and begins to weigh heavily on your bones, your eyelids, your mind.

you don’t remember the end of Sanji’s story. you don’t even remember falling asleep.

…

there’s a story you once read, not long ago. it’s about a princess who was cursed by an evil fairy, to sleep for a hundred years after she came of age; this curse also spread to the kingdom. for a hundred years, this castle stood with its sleeping inhabitants, gathering dust and wearing down to time as the land outside moved on without the former monarchs and their court of nobles.

then one day, a prince arrived. he intended to break the curse, and he knew precisely what needed to be done. so, he broke through the vines that had begun to grow along the castle; he swiped through the dust and spiderwebs, climbed the long spire of stairs to head to tallest tower; and when he finally found her chambers, he came into the room like a fog after the storm.

he took in the beauty sleeping in her bed, his hands caressing her face for a moment. then, he began to remove his armor until he was only in a tunic and his leather breeches. next, he undressed her, ripping away her nightgown and then squeezing at her bare body like she was a ripe fruit perfect for picking. after taking in more of her beauty, he began unfastening his pants; and then he slid into her bed.

it’s a rather horrifying story, honestly, both during this and after this moment in the book. it’s a tale of a Beauty and her Dark Prince, his demanding mother, and the many princes and princesses that are left at their mercy. it should have disgusted you—but you read on and on, until you had the entire novel memorized.

…

when you stir not long after, your mind is in a fog, your vision blurry. despite this, you still feel him forcing your thighs apart with his own, moving his long, turgid cock inside you at a near relentless pace. you hear how he groans his pleasure and adulations in your ear, how the movements of his body make the bed creak underneath you, the very wet smack of his thighs against yours. you feel how his mouth sucks and nips at the base of your neck, no doubt making bruises bloom there. his hands are everywhere, leaving trails of heat in their wake as he toys with your body.

for a moment, you wait for the panic, the kind of existential horror of it all. that’s the right reaction, correct? no one should want this, let alone enjoy it. many would argue that it’s a spit in the face of many survivors of this type of abuse. and let’s be honest, it’s a little fucked up. you are fucked up—that’s what a normal person would say.

but remember, you are not normal.

(and that’s okay.)

breathing deeply, you are further embraced by the smell of spices, some sweat, and of course, the faint smell of cigarettes. as you turn to bury your nose in his shoulder, a soft sigh leaves you, just enough to make it seem like you’re still sleeping. he’s not being gentle tonight, which is rare for him and a surprising treat for you. no, you realize with a little whimper, feeling the swollen tip of him brutally kissing the deepest part inside your pussy, his length dragging against every inch of your walls, forcing pleasure to nearly spill from your body. usually Sanji is sweet and gentle, even at his most passionate—but it seems something got a hold of him tonight. even when he thinks you’re still sleeping, tonight, he is being relentless.

a little moan leaves you at a particularly deep and rough thrust of his cock, his pelvis grinding right against your clit, driving you higher and higher, setting your whole body on fire. your trembling hands grasp at the back of his shoulders, then moving to curl in the open collar of his shirt.

“S-Sanji, Sanji,” you whimper into his neck, making him freeze, his moan choking in his throat.

“Shit, Princess, sorry, I thought—” he starts to say, lifting his head to look at you with worried eyes, his whole face red. “I didn’t realize how rough I—”

but with your hands still on the collar of his shirt, you drag him down to your lips, moaning as you start giving him fervent kisses, your hands moving to cradle his face.

“Faster, please,” you beg against his mouth. “Please, please, please…”

Sanji lets out a deep groan and kisses you back one more time, then places his mouth on the side of your temple. his arms wrap around your waist, your hands right on your ass as he adjusts your hips the slightest, and the—Oh. your head falls back against your pillow, wide eyes on the ceiling, clouded with lust and blank of any thought. Oh, god—!

the sounds leaving your mouth are so shameless, it’s embarrassing but you can’t help it with how he batters inside you, using all the strength you can handle from his legs. every time he forces his body to meet yours, you see stars and colors. your hands scrabble along his arms to keep yourself grounded, until one rests near his elbow while your other squeezes his shoulder, nails nearly ripping into the cotton of his shirt.

somehow, Sanji manages to keep enough composure to speak to you as he presses gentle and sweet kisses on your face.

“Like that, baby? Does that feel good?”

“Mm-hm, mm-hm,” you whine back, breaking off into a moan.

“Me too. Fuck, you’re always too good for me, so perfect,” he rasps, his mouth spreading into a grin against your jawline, unable to hide his excitement. “Getting close?”

gasping, you nod a little too fast, too eager to care about how it makes you look. he chuckles and kisses your lips with a soft moan.

“I got you, baby, don’t worry. Gonna give you just what you need,” Sanji says, moving one of his hands to thumb at your clit, his eyes drinking in how you arch into his touch, how what’s left of your control breaks under his touch. “You’re so beautiful…”

you can’t reply beyond the cries that leave you, a mix of words and praises that you don’t really think about before saying. you can barely think at all. all you can do is clench your eyes closed and hold onto him as he makes your body explode, your little pussy clenching and gushing around him as he draws it out, forcing wave after wave of your pleasure out of you.

as your voice grows strained, your throat rough and post-orgasmic fatigue (and remnants of the drug in your system) fogging your mind, Sanji finally moves to wrap your legs around his waist, pressing you against the bed. he fucks into you with absolute abandon now, intending to lose himself inside you. the force behind his thrusts makes you whimper into the side of his neck, your pussy still so sensitive, that boundary between pleasure and pain wearing away. Sanji makes sure to hold you close to him, soft and sweet, despite it all.

“Just a little more, a little more,” he is promising in your ear, his voice strained. then, about a moment later, “Shit—!”

with a turn of his face, Sanji presses his lips to yours, parting your mouth with his to deepen the kiss as you thread one of your hands through his hair, tugging at the root. as your tongues twist together, you feel him flood you with his warmth, thick and gushing. groaning into your mouth, he thrusts inside you a few more until he’s completely spent.

you both stay in place for a few moments, enough for you both to regain control over your breathing. Sanji takes a deep breath and parts with you, slowly pulling out, and then turning to lay next to you on the bed. once the sense of calm enters your system, a giddy sort of feeling flutters from your belly, making you settle deeper against your pillow.

“That was good,” you almost purr, turning to face him.

Sanji chuckles, still a bit shaky as he looks at you. “Do you need anything, Sweetness?”

you think for a moment before a yawn crawls from your mouth, leaving your mind and eyelids heavy. you shake your head.

“No, I think—I think I’ll sleep for real this time.”

“Okay,” says Sanji as he reaches out to stroke your face, his expression tender. “Go ahead and sleep, Princess. I’ll see you in the morning.”

you watch him a moment more, until your vision begins to blur and your eyelids begin to lower. you catch a glimpse of soft blue and a familiar smile before you allow sleep to claim you once more, knowing that no matter what and even if it’s only for a moment, you are safe and loved.

#one piece smut #sanji x reader #sanji x reader smut #one piece x reader #cw: consensual somno #cw: somno #tw: somnophilia #i did it mom #i wrote a smutfic #smutfic #sanji smut #this was the result of some brainrot #don't mind me or take it seriously #sanji x you #one piece x you #afab reader #female pronouns #smut #my writing

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 8 months

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Companion piece to https://www.tumblr.com/sicklyseraphnsuch/729835039196676096/write-something-about-marceline-meeting-up-with?source=share

Marceline sighs, sinking out of the air to lie down next to Bonnie. She lets a pair of pink arms wrap around her as she breathes out, slow and sad. She's not technically alive so she doesn't need to breathe. But sometimes, there's nothing like a good, long exhale to really take the pressure off.

"It's like my mom all over again," Marceline murmurs, leaning into Bonnie's warmth.

"He just wanted to protect you."

"I don't want protection. I want the truth." Marceline squeezes her eyes shut. "And when has hiding the truth ever protected me?"

"Well..." Bonnie rubs a small circle on Marceline's arms. "Then... Maybe it's to protect himself."

Marceline twists in her seat, eyeing Bonnie with a skeptic look.

Bonnie swallows a laugh. "Hey, put those peepers away. Let me explain." Her smile softens at the edges, turning faint and fraying like a coat worn too many times.

Marceline grabs Bonnie's hand and gives her a supportive squeeze.

Bonnie squeezes back. "OK, well... It's like this. You don't have kids, so you don't have a point of reference. But I've raised every single one of my candy citizens. And you were there when I ended up living in that old cabin. My kids kicked me out and I... Well, I broke down. I spent so much of my life as the caregiver, the protector, the mother - I had no idea what to do when I wasn't any of that. It's not like I had any other kind of relationship with my citizens."

"No offense to your people, Peebs, but they're not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. You have to protect them. And I like to think that I'm smarter than your average Cinnamon Bun."

"Yes, but that's not my point. Marcy... What if Simon was protecting himself? What if your mom was saving herself one final hurt? If they weren't protecting you, then what good were they? What have they ever accomplished really? It is selfish. But I think... people have to be sometimes, otherwise they'd fall apart."

Marceline studies Bonnie, remembering the days when she wore a plain t-shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and a baseball cap. She remembers a vegetable patch of some kind, a shoddy little log cabin, with a way of life so far removed from Bonnie's usual style. Finally, she remembers tears in an underground tunnel, and a confession that spilled out between sobs. Oh. Okay.

"That doesn't make his actions okay. He definitely didn't think about you when he decided to go Crown Hunting."

Marceline bits her lip and it's not until Bonnie reaches up to wipe her chin that she realizes her fangs sunk straight through the skin.

"It's... It's so - so hard to believe that I matter to him. He always says he loves me, but given even a sliver of an opportunity, he would get up and leave. Like, how am I supposed to reconcile that!"

"Yeah, it stinks like moldy breadballs."

"How am I supposed to help him? I get what you're saying. But there's got to be something that I can do! It can't just stay like this!"

Bonnie says nothing in reply. She traces absentminded patterns on the mattress. Marceline watches her for a few seconds before turning away. More time passes, slow and thick as molasses. By then, Marceline is ready to sleep on it. But her brilliant, beautiful girlfriend finally replies.

"Patience. I think. That's all we can give him right now. Patience and... well... Even as dull as my candy citizens could be, we eventually figured out a way for me to be less... out of reach, you know. I got to learn their hobbies and I... Well, I try to enjoy their hobbies as best I can."

"What about your hobbies?"

"I include them in my experiments whenever I can."

"Ah... I should have known."

Bonnie pouts at her before leaning forward and bumping their foreheads together. "Maybe he's not ready to stop protecting you. But maybe you can start befriending him. When he's more comfortable with the idea of being your friend, maybe then he can move away from being your caregiver. Does Simon even have hobbies?"

Marceline can't really think of any. She can't really think of anyone that Simon hangs out with. And wow, in hindsight, the answer was sooo obvious. How did she not see it earlier? Was she some kind of genius to miss out on such a simple answer?

"Why do I get the feeling that you just dissed me in your head just now..."

Marceline flashes her a playful smirk before kissing the frown off Bonnie's face.

"Tomorrow, when we're moving his stuff, can you help me get him to talk? I can't be all buddy buddy with him when he won't stay in the same room as me for more than five minutes."

"Oh say less, girlfriend."

#adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #marceline the vampire queen #marceline abadeer #princess bubblegum

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tinkabelle24 · 2 months

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To Build a Home

Chapter 19: Birthday Shenanigans (PART 3)

A/N: This chapter will feel a smidge scattered as I had many, MANY ideas, and it would've taken forever to formulate a readable chapter around them. So, you'll be getting snippets of a few scenes I absolutely could NOT part with.

Also, thanks again @android-cap-007 for the amazing pictures! 🥰🫂

TW! Sexual references.

Masterlist / Chapter 18

---

To say Raph was restless was a colossal understatement.

It'd been an hour and Val (still) had yet to join the group. The sun was shining, the water tepid, the wine chilled; it was a beautiful day, and she was missing it.

And he was missing her...

It's a problem.

Her 'yes' to his relationship proposal felt like a trigger; the moment that word left her lips, he was obsessed.

Prior to said moment, he thought of her often - nothing like this.

He's now struggling to eat, sleep, or shower without her. Obviously, she gets her space; he'd feel like a prick otherwise. But being deprived of her: her smile, her laugh, her touch... as dramatic as it sounded, he'd rather be drawn and quartered.

Raph practically leapt from his chair when he spotted her finally emerge from the house; but she didn't appear to be headed in his direction...

The terrapin's curious gaze followed her tiny form - arms brimming with various unidentifiable items - as she awkwardly jumped the porch steps, then started jogging - toward the barn.

What are you up to-

"Saved ya life!"

Raph barely had a moment to register those word, before a heavy force suddenly struck his plastron, thrusting him off his feet. He glimpsed a mane of black as he fell; past the dock then hitting the water, shell-first, with a slap.

"Your scales were lookin' a little dry, bestie," Casey razzed from the dock, when the terrapin finally surfaced. "Thought I'd moisten 'em for ya."

"C'mere and say that!" Raph spluttered, coughing up the liquid he'd inhaled in the assault. Behind him, further out, he could hear his younger brothers sniggering; Leo and April, who were lounged under the gazebo with Tyler (the latter stuffing his face with crackers and grapes), fought like hell to keep a straight face.

As the grumbling terrapin hauled himself back up onto the dock, a more severe expression crossed Casey's features.

"Leave her be, mate," he ordered; a tone Raph knew his normally equable friend rarely used, especially where he was concerned. "She'll be down when she's good and ready."

April nodded. "Val's put a lot of work into this, Raph," she added gently, tossing the food blanket over the grazing platter, so her son couldn't gorge himself. "Please don't spoil it for her; or yourself, for that matter... It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

Raph sighed softly, avoiding the couple's gaze.

Though it pained him to admit it, they were right. In being a nosy pain in the shell, he'd spoilt at least one of Val's surprises (yes, he did see the cake so, no, he wasn't just staring at her boobs).

Had Casey not intervened just then, he likely would've spoilt another. Hell, he may have already done so...

He really needed to pull his head in.

"Yeah..." the terrapin sighed again.

He attempted regaining eye contact, but all his mind focused on was the house behind them. The moment Val reappeared (seemingly headed back to the house), he pried his gaze away.

"Yeah, okay. I get it. I'll do better..."

---

Another half hour passed and Leo and Tyler were finally in the water. April remained on the bank, soaking up the midmorning sun. Donnie, having dibbsed the doughnut floaty, was also doing some sunbathing. Mikey, still butthurt about losing said floaty, decided harassing poor Leo (who was just trying to back float in peace) was the perfect outlet for his boredom.

Meanwhile, Val was still M.I.A.

The anxiety was still there, but Raph managed to keep himself busy with helping Casey teach Tyler to swim.

"Alright, Ty, come to me now... You've got this, bud-"

"Good job!"

The men shared a proud look as Tyler doggy-paddled the five feet from father to uncle, squealing with delight when the latter tossed him into the air.

"Ya did it!" Raph seated the youngster at his hip. "High five- well, you can high-five me and I can high-three you... Yeah! Good job-"

"Hey," Casey nudged the terrapin as he waded closer, nodding behind him.

Turning around, Raph could feel Tyler being taken from him; thank God, as what awaited him rendered his entire body slack.

Holy shit...

Val was finally headed their way; clad in a black (of course) high-leg, long-sleeved one-piece. The top covered most of her cleavage, but her hip-bones and thigh tattoo had nowhere to hide.

Raph had only seen the full tattoo a handful of times, mostly while she was naked. Now, it was being publicly displayed for his best friend and brothers to see.

Forgive him for feeling a little territorial...

Mikey, having finally granted Leo respite, sliced through the silence with an enthusiastic wolf-whistle; causing Val to blush and curl in on herself, and setting Raph's teeth on edge.

"Sweet tattoo, Dudette!" The youngest brother braced himself on his arms at the dock's edge; leaning forward, to get a better view of her ink. "How long did that take to do?"

"About five hours..." A still flushed Val glanced April's way, who smiled and winked encouragingly at her; then to Raph, who was wading his way over. His indecipherable expression was making her nervous...

Does he like it?? Is it too much?? Oh God, it's too much...

No. She mentally slapped herself, took a deep breath, then straightened up; forcing a smile on her lips.

You felt good in this before coming out here, you feel good in it now.

Tough titties, if he doesn't like it.

"A friend did it for me," the brunette explained; grinning pointedly at Raph, whose wary gaze darted between his brothers.

His protectiveness of her virtue was admirable, but unnecessary. She was safe here.

"This was one of her first big pieces."

"Must've hurt like a mother effer- ow!" Rubbing his offended arm, Mikey met Leo's disapproving stare. "What??"

"Took ya long enough." A smirk finally pulled at his mouth as he brushed past his brothers, climbing to Val's level.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she quipped, attempting to mask her insecurity with snark. "My work was delayed due to a certain red-masked individual..."

Raph chuckled softly, giving her suit one last once-over before closing the distance between them completely. Hand at her hip, he leaned forward; voice low and husky. "You're playin' with fire, wearin' that thing..."

Heat immediately rushed to Val's cheeks. She lowered her gaze, a half-stifled giggle escaping her lips. Quickly composing herself, the brunette then graced him with a suggestive smile; fingers teasingly tracing along the zipper.

"Oh?" She whispered back. "You, uh... gonna burn me later?"

Raph gave her a look. He opened his mouth to respond, but then his gaze abruptly shifted behind her.

"Time for a dip!"

The startled woman yelped as she was promptly scooped off the dock, into the green-skinned arms of another brother. He was already on the move by the time she'd identified him.

"Mikey! I beg you - don't-!"

Too late.

When they finally broke the surface, Val pushed away; thrashing at the water blindly, with the hope that some of it hits the offending terrapin in the eyes. She could hear snickering from all angles.

"You dick!"

"How's the water, Val?" Mikey taunted as she wiped the excess liquid from her lids. "It's nice to see you finally in it!"

Sight finally returning, Val fixated on the youngest brother; he was practically begging to be smacked, with that smug grin of his. "You're so gonna get it!"

"Bring it on, sister!" He beckoned.

Utilising all her upper body strength, the brunette pushed hard against the water; the resulting wave headed straight for her target...

Then he ducked underwater.

Leo - standing behind him, having just retrieved his lemon-lime ramune from the inflatable cooler - copped her wrath instead.

A collective gasp was heard.

Mikey, who'd since resurfaced and seen the damage, burst out laughing.

"Oh my God! Leo, I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..."

The terrapin in question slowly lifted his gaze; burning into Val's very soul. She chanced a glance at his drink, praying he hadn't already opened it...

Ah, shit.

The bottle was overflowing, its defiled contents dripping down his arm into the water. Not good.

Not good, at all.

"Oooh, someone's in trouble!"

Leo's brilliant eyes then flickered Mikey's way; the youngest brother was watching them, with impish glee.

Turning back to Val, a similar smile formed. The brunette watched, with increasing dread, as he set aside his drink, inching lower into the chest-deep water.

"Wait, where are you going? Get back up here! Leo, please don't..."

He was gone.

Full panic mode: activated.

Val frantically shuffled away, over the grainy sand and pebbles covering the benthic.

"Oh God, please- no, no, no-"

Something (or someone) brushed against her leg and she shrieked, kicking outward instinctively. Nothing.

A stream of blue caught her eye as she scanned the water; she followed until a plume of disturbed bedding obscured him from view. Looking up, she immediately realised where he was headed...

"You better run, little girl-"

A green hand suddenly shot out of the water, smacking Mikey square in the snout. Leo promptly followed, bracing his brother's neck as he proceeded slathering wet sand all over his face.

Another collective gasp.

"That's for spoiling my drink." The leader winked at Val as he then shoved his brother backward, by the face; the latter finally coming to, once the cool water enveloped him.

"Wait- what??" A bemused Mikey exclaimed, splashing away his 'mud mask'. "I wasn't the one-"

"You started it," Leo retorted. "I was just finishing it."

"My hero!" Val 'swooned', earning a light spraying from the blue-banded terrapin as he passed. She splashed him back (intentionally, this time) before shooting Mikey a shit-eating grin, who responded by sticking out his tongue.

"Are you all quite finished?" Donnie gestured to himself, still bobbing about atop the floaty. "I'm getting wet up here, in case you haven't noticed..."

"Oh!" The brunette turned to him, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Are you feeling lonely, Don?"

"Don't even think about coming near me, with that look..." The terrapin grew more unnerved the closer she became. Soon, she was braced against his floaty, grinning up at him like the Cheshire cat.

"What do you want?" He mustn't let her smell his fear.

"...This."

Sliding her hands under the device, Val heaved it upward, tipping a startled Donnie overboard, then scrambling into his place.

"Oh no, you don't!" Mikey rushed forward, dragging the brunette down by her calves. "I had next turn!"

"Hey! C'mon, Mikey..." Raph dropped off the dock into the water. "Don't manhandle-"

He abruptly halted; watching, in stunned silence, as Val then latched onto his brother's neck, tugging him back with all her might.

"No, it's mine! I earned it!"

"You stole it!" Donnie snatched back the floaty, making a 'run' for it. Finally breaking free of Val's vice-like grip, Mikey pounced on his brother's shell, sinking them both; allowing the brunette to make her claim.

"Yes!" She exclaimed triumphantly; fists in the air, perched atop her prize.

Her rivals hung their heads in defeat.

An amused Raph turned to April, making the 'drinking' gesture whilst nodding his girlfriend's way. The redhead laughed, shook her head then mouthed: "nope".

"The doughnut is mine!"

---

"Tell ya what though: I'm glad I wore my seatbelt; I woulda gone through the windshield otherwise-"

"Oh, go away!" Val shoved Raph playfully, nearly causing him to spill his coke. "It wasn't that bad and you know it. Quit bullshitting."

Leo relaxed into his fold-out chair, smiling slyly against his cup. "Oh, I don't know about that..." He countered, prompting an admonitory side-glance from the brunette. He boldly pressed forward. "I saw you park - not pretty."

At that, Raph proceeded demonstrating the jolting motion his body apparently made when she braked a little too hard; the boys snickered at the sight.

Meanwhile, April had finally returned from the 'bathroom'; grinning knowingly at Val as she very casually slid back into her chair, beside Casey.

"Yeah, well..." Val shot Raph a look, flames of the bonfire dancing in her eyes. "That was payback for nearly making me lose my lunch."

~~~

"You're grippin' the wheel way too tightly; your knuckles are whiter than your teeth... and you're stiff as a board. Babe, you really need to relax."

Val huffed in frustration as she slumped into the driver's seat, shaking out her stiff fingers. "I can't figure out the gears," she complained. "How the heck am I meant to focus on the road, when there's so much goin' on down here? Clutch, first gear, accelerate; ease off clutch, handbrake down, accel- there's just so goddamn much!"

Raph reached over to comfortingly squeeze her bare thigh. He could easily get used to this shorts-wearing weather.

"With practice," he reassured. "Had we an automatic, you'd be learnin' in that. Stick-shift ambulances are impractical, especially in the city; chances of you landin' one are nil. But think of it this way..."

Begrudgingly lifting his hand from her skin, the terrapin then gestured to the gearbox. "You learn to drive this and an automatic, once ya finally get behind one, fuhgettaboutit. So..." He tilted his head to meet her gaze. "You ready to keep goin'?"

Raph could always tell when Val was being disingenuous; the eyes truly were the windows of the soul.

"Why don't we take a break? We've been at this awhile."

She blinked, 'smile' faltering. "What? No! I swear, I'm fine. I just needed a moment..."

"Oh, really?" He quirked a brow ridge at her. "Tell ya face."

At that, the brunette scoffed, shaking her head as she turned away. After a moment or two of fumbling with the steering wheel, she finally reached for the key, attempting to turn the ignition over.

"Ya forgot to put it in neutral," he remarked, struggling to suppress his amusement. She side-eyed him as she nudged the gearstick into the "N" position, then tried turning it on again.

"Aaand the clutch isn't in-"

"Oh, for God's sake-!"

"Alright, I'm callin' it!" Raph yanked up the handbrake then braced himself against the centre console, fixing Val a firm look.

"I'm gonna say this again: you need to relax. You ain't gonna get it perfect the first time, or even the second; so, stop expectin' it. And you've loads of time; you'll have the truck to practice in, when we get back..."

He then took her hands into his, expression softening as he caressed her scarred knuckles. "...and you've got me to help ya- and April and Case... and Leo, and Mikey, and Don- aw, well, I'd give him some time; you did steal his doughnut-"

That pulled a laugh out of her.

God, I love that sound!

"Alright..." Val nodded, shoulders loosening as she attempted expiring all her nervous energy. "Okay, I'm relaxing now..."

She still wasn't quite looking him in the eye...

"I've an idea..."

"We're not having sex in the car."

Raph snorted. "That ain't exactly what I had in mind, but if you're offerin'-"

"Raph-"

"I jest!" He tittered, hands up in surrender. "...Sort of."

Val playfully rolled her eyes.

"In all seriousness though: do you trust me?"

She eyed him warily. "Why...?"

His mischievous smile promptly returned. "Let's swap."

Out in the open field behind the farmhouse, Raph proceeded taking her for a spin - a literal one.

~~~

"Oh, you loved it! Quit bullshittin'," Raph echoed as he slung an arm over Val's shoulders, planting a kiss on her brow. She groaned in protest, but the kittenish giggle that followed betrayed her enjoyment.

Donnie (thankfully) waited to finish his mouthful of chocolate cake, before smugly interjecting: "I could hear your screams from my polyvinyl chloride throne."

He got his floaty back.

Val frowned at him. "How many slices have you had now - six?"

The terrapin scoffed. "That's a gross overstatement," he sassed, gesturing to the half-eaten dessert in his lap. "This is my fourth, thank you very much."

The looks on the boys' faces when she and April carried out not one, but four birthday cakes, will forever be burned into Val's memory: Raph's patent relief, Leo's surprise, and Donnie and Mikey's childlike delight. She could live a long time off the warmth that image alone gave her.

“I saw how you cut your cake,” the brunette retorted. “Your ‘four’ slices may as well have been the entire thing.”

Mikey - who appeared to be minding his own, plucking away at his guitar strings - abruptly strummed an ominous tune. Leo and April spat their drinks, Donnie playfully rolled his eyes and Raph and Casey shared a look, fighting to keep a straight face.

"The claws are out tonight!" Casey grinned Valerie's way. "I like drunk Val - she's fiery!"

The brunette laughed. "I'm not even drunk!"

"No?" Mikey smirked as he reached over his instrument, pulling out her near empty drink jug from the cooler beside him. "How do you explain this, then? Hm?"

"That's an excellent question - Leo?" Val side-eyed the eldest brother, who snorted incredulously. "Wanna answer that one?"

~~~

"It's vodka, water and grapefruit juice - alcoholic cordial, basically. But it's really nice! I'll pour you some, so you can try..."

The leader was puzzled. "So, no wine, then? Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?!"

"I never said that!" Val laughed, tugging two cups from the stack beside the giant bowl of non-alcoholic Mai Tai (luckily, they had enough ingredients for a second batch; Raph and Tyler obliterated the last one). She filled one to the brim. "I will be having wine, just later. It's not really something you can sip on, all day, without getting sick."

He smirked. "You've never seemed to have any trouble-"

The brunette promptly lifted the jug away from the second cup, daring him to continue digging his own grave.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry..." Leo conceded. He then tilted his head and pouted, like a puppy begging for treats. "Please?"

Val snorted and rolled her eyes, then proceeded filling the cup.

~~~

"Yeah, thanks so much!" Leo replied sarcastically. "It's not like I saved your ass today, or anything..."

The brunette scoffed. "You didn't 'save my ass'," she retorted, not-so-subtly nodding Mikey's way; he sent her a crabby look. "You just punished the true culprit. And as for why you're under the bus: you've had just as much of that as I have; if not, more, as it was three-quarters full the last time I filled my drink. So..."

Her confidence visibly faltered in lieu of her next statement, as she awkwardly sipped her drink. "...Check yo self."

"Rightio, Ice Cube," Casey chuckled, as Raph jocularly plucked the cup from his girlfriend's hand; before promptly returning it, under threat of a plastron elbowing.

April quirked a bemused brow at her. "What the heck was that?"

Leo smirked. "She's scared of me-"

"Am not!" A flushed Val objected.

"Mhm, sure-"

"Hey!" The brunette scooted to the edge of the double fold-out, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Don't bite the hand that... drinks? No-"

"You should quit while you're ahead," Leo interjected, smirk deepening.

Val's mouth fell open; Raph shot his eldest brother a 'now you've done it' look.

"You-!"

"Ladies, ladies...!" Mikey grinned between the two as he strummed an obnoxiously reposeful tune. "You're both pretty, alright? Let's take it down a notch... Raphie boy-"

"Don't call me that-"

"Show us your pipes."

Raph blinked. "S'cuse me?"

Mikey frowned; upping the tempo slightly. "Come now. Don't pretend we don't know you can sing." Catching Valerie's quizzical side-glance his brother's way, the orange-banded terrapin gasped dramatically. "You haven't told...? Dude!"

Raph snorted, shaking his head. "I've no idea what you're talkin' about-"

"Oh, bullshit! He's being coy, Val. Right, Case? He's being coy."

"Ohhhh...!" Finally catching on, Casey levelled a shit-eating grin at his best friend. "Yeah, he can totally sing-"

"Seriously?" Raph chuckled, bemused.

"You sing to Ty all the time," April chimed in with a smirk.

"That don't even... wait, why am I-"

"Is that so?" Leo enquired unctuously.

"I've so gotta see this!" Donnie eagerly added, rubbing his hands together.

"The people have spoken!" Mikey gestured triumphantly to Raph, who harrumphed as he awkwardly shifted in his seat.

Had Val not already been watching him, she would've missed the desperate look he flashed her.

"C'mon, Raphie boy - sing. She'll love it, I promise! Wontcha, Val?" Without waiting for a response, Mikey proceeded thumping a palm against his guitar's soundboard; attempting to rile the crowd. "Sing, sing-"

Casey and Donnie joined immediately; followed by Leo, then April; expectant gazes looming over the red-banded terrapin, who looked ready to croak from embarrassment.

"Sing, sing, sing, sing, sing-"

"My house in Budapest my, my hidden treasure chest..."

Everyone snapped toward Val, who'd unexpectedly broken into song; setting aside her drink to pat her denim-clad thigh to the beat.

"Golden grand piano, my beautiful Castillo you-"

The brunette winked at Raph, then squeezed his leg; before shutting her eyes, to curb her increasing anxiety.

"Ooh, you, ooh I'd leave it all... My acres of a land I have achieved, it-"

"It may be hard for you to stop and believe-"

Startled, Val shot open her eyes, finding Raph singing alongside her. He smiled gratefully as he squeezed back; soloing the next couple lines, whilst waiting for her and the others to pick their jaws off the ground.

His silky smooth voice sent shivers up her spine...

"But for you, ooh, you, ooh I'd leave it all..."

Finally snapping out of her stupor, Val giddily re-joined him. They were far from alone.

Suddenly, the entire group were belting out the chorus (some more drunkenly than others); amplifying the beat with whatever solid surface within reach.

---

Several rib-tickling campfire songs (and Casey's piss-poor attempt at 'Cotton Eye Joe'; knocking over a table of empty cans in the process) later, things appeared to finally be winding down. Good thing, too. The last time Val checked her watch - 11:47pm - was, err... sometime ago.

Having consumed only water for roughly an hour, Val felt the alcohol's effects steadily waning. Again - good. She needed to be somewhat sober to carry out Raph's final birthday surprise...

"Alright, everybody..." Leo cut through the overlapping chatter. Everyone fell silent, turning to the leader as he carefully rose from his chair; nursing his third cup of unadultered H2O (at the behest of the resident bartender).

"Before we disperse for the night, I wanted to say a few things... Firstly, thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules, to make the trip-"

"You're welcome!" Mikey smirked as he relaxed in his chair; swirling the contents of his beer can, like it were a martini. "Anything for you, big bro-"

"Don't flatter yourself, Mikey," Donnie interjected, rolling his eyes. "You had no choice-"

"As I was saying..." Leo side-eyed the youngest brothers, before turning to address Val. "I know getting leave wasn't easy for you, so..." He gestured to his brothers, then himself, with a warm smile. "We thank you... and for the cakes. They were beautiful."

The brunette returned the smile, raising her cup to him. "It's no problem. I wouldn't miss this shit for the world - you know that."

The terrapin chuckled at that. "Well, thank you..." He then turned to April and Casey, who were snuggled up in the latter's chair. "...and to you two, and Ty, for the gifts."

April shot the red-banded terrapin a playful glare. "Raph's lucky to even get his, after his behaviour today..."

"Hey, now," Raph retorted, poking a snickering Val in the ribs. "We've settled that already, haven't we? ... I apologise, Leo. Please, continue."

Leo gave his brother a weird look, but continued otherwise.

"As you all know, this, uh..."

The mood shifted when the leader abruptly lowered his gaze; a shuddered breath escaping his lips. He took a moment to recompose himself, before finally looking up.

"...This is the first birthday we've celebrated without... d-dad. These last nine months have been... a ride, to say the least - for all of us. We've all had to adjust, rather quickly, to our new normal... But I feel we're finally there. We've found our peace; thanks to the unwavering love and support from you guys..."

A small smile crossed the terrapin's features as his gaze drifted to April and Casey (both of whom returned the smile), then Val.

" - our found family."

The brunette blinked, taken aback. Sure, he's referred to her as 'family' before; but that was in private - this was a public declaration.

"Val..." Leo's voice faltered, as tears brimmed his eyes. "You never got the chance to meet him, but I know he'd have loved you as much as we do..."

Hoo boy.

Here come the waterworks...

"Goddamn onion ninjas..." Val sniffled, pulling a tearful laugh from everyone. Leo raised his cup to her, and nodded. April and Casey did the same; as did the rest of the brothers.

"Love you, Val-"

"Yeah. Love ya, Val-"

"Love ya, Dudette-"

"You better have that cake recipe saved, cos I'll be asking for it next year; and the year after that, and the year after that..."

Val giggled. "Don't worry, Don, the recipe's not going anywhere... and I love you too - all of you. I-"

The brunette abruptly fell silent; lowering her gaze, with a quavered chuckle. Sensing his girlfriend's apprehension, Raph took a hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

She squeezed back; nodding to him reassuringly, before finally continuing.

"I wanted to thank you all for... accepting me into your lives. I know how risky it is... I also wanted to thank you for everything you've done thereafter: sharing your food, teaching me to fight... saving my life."

She was looking at Leo now.

"You put your neck on the line for me; I'll never forget that, ever."

Leo, finally resettled in his chair, gave Val a look. "Val, seriously, there's no need to thank-"

"Well, I just did."

He attempted protesting further, but she kept talking.

"I really wish I'd known Splinter personally. From what all of you've told me, he sounded- actually, no - he was an amazing man... friend... father. How could he not be? He raised the kindest, bravest... sometimes stupidest-"

"Oi-"

April whacked Casey's arm. "Shhh!"

The brothers shared an amused look, as Val resumed; the low visibility masking her now darkened cheeks.

"Heh, um... Yeah; the bravest, kindest..." She met Raph's gaze, with a amorous smile. "...most wonderful people I've ever met. I think he'd be proud of you - all of you - for how far you've come. I hope you think so too... To Splinter."

"To Splinter!"

Lowering the can from his lips, Casey frowned at the couple sitting before him; still engrossed in the other's gaze. They may as well be on top of each other...

Time to get this ball rolling.

"Well!"

The group snapped toward him (was that relief he saw on Val's face?). He slapped his legs, nudging April as he hauled himself upright.

"It's been fun, but we should really be hittin' the hay now - it's almost 3am."

Leo grimaced. "Really?"

"Oops," Mikey chuckled.

"Yeah, we should!" April leapt from her chair, flashing Val an excited grin. "Knowing Ty, he'll be up in, like, two hours..."

"Oof! Yeeaah, I think I'll join you..." Donnie agreed.

While the others gathered their belongings, Val purred into an increasingly suspicious Raph's ear. "Don't move; I've got something else for you-"

"What are you lovebirds whispering about?" Mikey probed, waggling his brow ridges. "Sneaking off to get freaky deaky-"

"Mikey," Raph interrupted; voice low and commanding, despite his racing heart. "Shuddup, and go to bed."

The orange-banded terrapin whipped his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, fine." He slung the guitar strap over his shell, before turning for the house. "But just so you know: bears roam these woods... and a certain zombie redneck torture family- ahem! Stay safe, you two!"

"Thanks, for the words," Leo said as the couple stood to give the approaching terrapin a hug. He squeezed Val tightly; tighter than usual, but she chalked it up to his mildly intoxicated state. "They meant a lot."

"Thank you, for the words," the brunette echoed gently; stepping away, to allow Raph his turn.

"Night, brothah."

"You look after her, alright?" Leo enjoined; giving the red-banded terrapin the 'I'm watching you' gesture, as he slowly turned away. "Goodnight!"

"Oookaaay..." A bewildered Raph then leaned into Val, whispering into her ear. "Is he my brothah, or yours?"

She snorted.

"Goodnight, you two!" April called unctuously as she and the others stumbled up the hill. The suggestive looks and gestures by the boys were largely ignored.

"So..." Raph turned to Val, once it was clear they were finally alone. They hadn't had an ounce of privacy all day.

"So..." the brunette echoed, tittering nervously. She was shaking like a leaf; again, not quite looking him in the eye...

"You-"

She suddenly shoved him. "You didn't tell me you could sing!" She hissed playfully. "What else have you been hiding from me??"

Classic.

Raph gave a half-mustered chuckle and shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a turtle of many talents..."

His expression then turned severe. Val promptly lowered her gaze, abashed. "Nice try - what's goin' on, babe? Talk to me."

"I'm just..." The brunette squeezed her eyes shut and breathed; fighting to expel the nervous energy. After a moment, she finally looked at him - really looked at him.

"I'm just really, really nervous, heh..."

A laugh escaped Raph's lips, and he took her hands. "Why are you nervous?" He enquired gently.

Val frowned at him.

"What?"

Her frown deepened.

"What? No- tell me!"

"...I just wanna make sure you enjoy your... f-first time."

Raph gawked at her, mouth agape like a suffocating fish. "My... my what, now?"

Val gave a soft smile and squeezed his hands. "I'm ready, Raph. I wanna have sex with you- that is, if you're ready, too..."

"...Lead the way."

---

Masterlist / Chapter 20

@android-cap-007 @happymoonangel @miss-andromeda

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belit0 · 11 months

Note

what if... demon! Indra....?

What if Demon! Uchiha clan but make Indra the lider...🤗💫❣️

THIS WAS SO FUN and I might make a part 2 without anyone asking for it cause... WHO CAN SAY NO TO DEMON INDRA?!

Of course, if you like it, let me know! And if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to send a request or DM!

TW: none (THERE IS NO NON-CON, but there's a moment that can be a little tense) Pairing: Otsutsuki Indra / reader NSFWish

2 AM goes by on the clock, and (Y/N) knows that an eternal night is coming. Working full time and studying simultaneously is crazy in itself, how is a normal person supposed to add to that the social part as well? Insane.

She must finish this paper by tomorrow, otherwise, she will have no material to present to her professor and will be completely exposed in class. There is no need to add public humiliation to her list of tortures, staying up all night is enough.

The problem is, her assignment is still in the same sentence where she left off thirty minutes ago, and the inspiration is not coming to her. How can she move forward with the task if she doesn't even know what phrase she should develop next?

The second cup of coffee has been finished, and it is no longer having the same effect as the first. At 6 AM her alarm will go off, and she will have to get up and leave for work. Two important meetings await her, and the presentation of her monthly project in front of her bosses.

It can't get any worse, can it?

Completely frustrated, she leaves her workstation to head to the kitchen, where she pours herself a third cup of her hot drink. Leaning against the counter, she rubs her eyes trying to shake off the sleep, but nothing seems to help. Her body begs for sleep and is doing everything it can to put her to it against her will.

Eventually, she decides to sit down on the couch, where she begins to slide through TikTok in an attempt to relax her mind a little. Her whole algorithm seems to be about tarot and witchcraft, spells and manifestation, working with higher entities and gods to get what one wants.

Maybe life is trying to tell her something.

One particular video appears, a girl talking about a special group of demons that one can work with to achieve one's goals. She provides a number of unique names, and refers to the group as the "Uchiha".

One in question becomes trapped in her mind and is the one she thinks about as her eyes close and her body wins the battle of sleep.

"Indra... has a nice tone..."

Before she knows it, she is already dreaming. But the atmosphere is not what you would expect in an ordinary dream, not a series of meaningless events and familiar people.

(Y/N) is lying on a bed, wide awake, bound hand and foot, with each leg spread towards each bottom corner of the bed. No clothing worn when falling asleep is on her, and there is a man in the room, wearing only a loose-fitting Japanese-style dressing gown.

He is holding a board with papers on it and seems engrossed in reading its contents. His hair is extra-long, of a beautiful brown color, and his red eyes seem oblivious to (Y/N)'s presence completely exposed in front of him.

A little shocked sound escapes her lips, as her gaze scans the entire place. It seems to consist of only a bed, the rest of the room is either pitch black or covered in darkness.

It's just the two of them.

"Finally awake, I see."

The man speaks, but his voice seems to sound much further away than where he is standing. He abandons the clipboard at the foot of the bed and climbs onto the mattress. With a predatory aura, he crawls over to come face to face with (Y/N), who is lying there in a state of stupefaction.

"What... what is this! Where am I!"

"You are wherever I want you to be. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"What the fuck do you mean! Who the hell are you?!"

"Hell is just my abode, yet I wished after summoning me, you'd know who I am."

Y/N's mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to process those words that deep voice spoke. He seems to sound so far away and so close at the same time, while the image is both meaningless and overflowing with sense all at once.

It all feels like a fever dream, completely real as well.

"I didn't summon anyone... I didn't ask for anything! Let me go!"

"Oh, but you did. You called my name just before passing out from exhaustion, dragging me here. Your mind was quick to provide me with all your fantasies, and your body seems ready to receive them."

"This has got to be a nightmare… It has to be! Tonight, of all nights!"

As (Y/N) tries to rouse herself from what she believes to be her dream, the man sighs with irritation, getting off the bed to pick up the board with papers he had discarded earlier.

"Look here, please."

She opens her eyes, concentrating on the list the man shows her. It contains all of her deepest fantasies listed, in lavish detail of execution and form, the filthiest thing she's ever read in her life.

"Who are you?"

"You don't really know who I am, don't you..."

"Just answer the goddamn question already, please!"

"If you ask so nicely... Indra, king of the demons from the last circle of hell, ready to serve you."

At those words, (Y/N) loses consciousness, falling completely asleep on the bed.

#naruto shippuden #naruto #uchiha clan #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki x reader #otsutsuki indra x reader #indra x reader #naruto imagines #naruto scenarios #naruto x reader

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girldigital · 5 months

Text

Depression knocks

Today, I started experiencing something I haven't felt since arriving in London : Sadness?

I think it was sadness. It probably started yesterday actually. I was ready to blame it all on the considerable lack of sleep that's been plaguing my day-to-day life, but I'm not so sure it's just that, despite it having gotten worse due to holiday shenanigans.

I find myself thinking about love a lot lately. I've always felt cursed. Silly of me to think it'd get lifted the moment I move across the world I guess.

Now that my chapter with Big is seemingly closed, I should be excited to dive into the future, yet I can't. Getting my closure felt like such a gargantuan accomplishment and I'm glad it happened - it was like finishing sutures on a stubborn wound I'd been putting ointment on for the past two years. It would have been too easy if it remained there though so of course, he had to send me that message a month later, undoing half the stitches I had carefully planned for for weeks.

By “believe” you'd think I was referring to the big L word, but I know I don't. What Big represented is success - it's everything I should be with. The only person whose validation hits harder than drugs. I've kissed the most beautiful people around the globe since our fling ended, yet they've done nothing but make me feel harrowingly empty.

This hallowness has made me think about Contrapoints' video Shame a lot. Here are some quotes that haunt me still, almost 5 years later:

"And I can find things I like about male bodies. Like, they're very warm. I love it when you get under the covers with a man and he warms you up. But that's when the lesbian voice comes into my head and says, “But are you attracted to men? Or do you just like being warm?”"

"There's a kind of sick masochism in wanting someone who doesn't want you back. It's insatiable, like an addiction. And on the flipside, there's an intense erotic thrill in being desired. I think that's what got me interested in men in the first place. It's that they were interested in me. And that's pretty interesting. I've felt desired by men in a way I've never truly felt desired by women. You know, a man will glower at you with that agitated, carnivorous desperation. […] God that's hot. Gets me every time. But notice how excitement at the attention and the flattery of being desired is not the same thing as attraction to men. There's a difference between “I want you” and “I like that you want me.”"

Literally just sighed at that last part for I have so many notes on my phone saying exactly that (first one is a Siri note I dictated while driving, pardon the chaos!):

I want love but I don’t know how to do it detached from the system I’m bound to.

I can’t be attracted to men unless they fit the image I need them to have for the fantasy to be believable. I also need them to be interesting and to make me feel like I'm gaining something - a reward for starving myself and making myself beautiful you know - otherwise, what's the point? The problem is, most men, especially the most beautiful ones, tend to be annoyingly boring.

When it comes to women, they are certainly more gorgeous, but my sexuality doesn’t exist outside of the patriarchy. My desire is never mine unless it is to be desired by someone else and male validation just so happens to have the highest price point (or so they say).

"[...] the normative sexual role for women is to be pursued, possessed, desired, seduced, dominated by men—it's all very passive. And in most of the sexual encounters I've had with men, I've taken a very submissive role. Sometimes I just submit to the glower and let him do things to me. And I do think that the thrill of being desired is a valid thing to want. I like that feeling myself, and I do genuinely enjoy taking on a more submissive role sometimes. But you have to go about it thoughtfully, because if you don't, sexual submission can be a way to avoid confronting what your desires actually are. "

I want to be loved but I don't know how to do so. Men, women, and everything in between - Nothing moves me. I keep being told I might be asexual but besides my overall scepticism with that sexuality, I know I'm not! I do want sex! I want to passionately make love until birds sing at sunrise! I want the thrill that comes with being with someone your heart desires as much as it needs air! I want to lose myself in lust and relish in the pleasures of the flesh without feeling like a puppet!

There's just nobody I want to do this with. Even the one I say I want isn't exempt from my intricate web of conditions; he just so happens to be the only one who perfectly fit (and exceeded) the conditions needed for the narrative. I can't help but think though, would that still be enough to make me happy in 5 years? 10? 1?

Frankly, it would probably make me go insane.

All I've done over the past two years is try to find a replacement, like an actor falling ill and needing a doppelganger to fill the same role. The problem with that is that knockoffs don't hit like the real thing, and I unfortunately started off with the best.

I want to start fresh but I don't know where to start. How are you supposed to go back into the matrix when all you see are 1s and 0s? When you know the steak isn't real, but ignorance doesn't feel like bliss anymore?

I’ve just come to a standstill because Big is like a virus in my system - a glitch that I can’t seem to get rid of. I’m trying so hard to function without removing it, but it’s only further corrupting all the data around. I’m not ready to remove it because that most likely means wiping the entire system, and I don’t want to start remaking the bed I'm already lying in.

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 2

Day 2 - There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Romantic RoSleep (Roman x Remy/Sleep), background Analogical

TWs: Mild Swearing from Remy __

“No, no, no, you move my 3 O’clock to 4, my 4 O’clock to 5, then cancel it. I don’t even want to have to look at that scumbag from accounting today, babes.”

Remy kept taking on his bluetooth headset as he approached the Starbucks he’d grown so accustomed to. Normally just inhaling the scent of ground coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon spice would be enough to flood his stressed cranium with serotonin. But that wasn’t going to cut it today.

Today he was on a mission; his soulmate timer had stopped during his visit here a week ago, and he was determined to find out who it’d stopped for. With his schedule cleared as much as possible, Remy walked into the Starbucks in his business attire, having only bothered to throw on his leather jacket when he’d left the office. Not that his outfit was unplanned, he had made a point of wearing the same white button up shirt, black waistcoat, and matching black slim cut pants he’d been wearing when he first noticed the timer had stopped. If not for making sure his soulmate recognised him, then simply because he looked damn good.

It was a gamble, assuming his soulmate would be there today, but by now he was desperate. Remy knew the rules; after exactly a week was up, his timer would disappear for good and he’d never know who his soulmate was. And he wasn’t about to let that shit fly. No sirree.

“Now, which one of you is it?”, Remy mumbled under his breath. As he stood just about to open the door and leave, Remy had memorised the men who were present in the cafe that fateful day; eight potential men, two eliminated visually over the first two days when he noted their timers were still going. Another three all eliminated themselves the days following as they revealed themselves to be straight, in a relationship, and very straight, in that order. Remy sighed impatiently as he perused the last three men he’d narrowed things down to.

The first was a short, burly man with chestnut brown hair that tickled his button nose while he leant over to pet the outrageously cute border collie sat by his chair. His cheeks were dusted with freckles that drew attention to his mossy green eyes and sunkissed skin. The blue polo shirt and tan shorts he wore clashed with the fact he clearly worked hard labour in the outdoors. Remy guessed he worked with plants going by his scuffed and dirty boots, and the mud on his pupper’s paws. Remy dubbed him, unsurprisingly, Dog Guy.

The second, Space Cadet, was a far departure from Dog guy; his auburn hair and pale skin spoke of celtic origins while his numerous books concerning the far reaches of the universe spoke of the cosmos. Of a man who harboured an intense scientific curiosity as deep as his sapphire eyes. His black shirt hidden under a dark blue flannel shirt showed the insignia of the local museum, which Remy found fitting. In the nicest way possible, Space Cadet looked like he belonged there with his pristine glasses and tidy upkeep that bordered on neurotic.

And the third man, Anxiety Magnet, was once more a drastic change from the other two. Dark skin melted into an all black outfit consisting of a black hoodie sporting custom purple patches - perhaps he made it himself, Remy couldn’t be sure - alongside black ripped skinny jeans. His purple sneakers matched his nailpolish and eyeshadow framing heterochromic brown and green eyes. Every time Remy would scope out the young man, he’d always be anxiously biting his nails, fidgeting with his napkins, or doodling in the notebooks (Remy noted three different ones at least) he brought with him.

Remy was in for a loooong ride but hopefully today he’d finally figure out which of these lucky doofuses is his soulmate.

He walked over to the counter to order his usual drink, giving the familiar barista a nod as the man recognised him,

“Afternoon, Remy,”, the barista smiled, “The usual for our beloved fairy godmother?”

Remy rolled his eyes fondly, “Roman, babes, kindly shut up.”

Roman laughed, “Come now, wouldn’t want you turning into the Evil Queen, would we?”

“Joke’s on you, babes, I like the Evil Queen.”

Roman feigned a dramatic gasp, only returning to making Remy’s usual once he’d secured a smile from the stressed office worker. Remy twirled his lanyard in his hands; Remy Merryweather. Of all names to be cursed with around a Disney fan like the barista, it HAD to be one of the uncool ones. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Roman hadn’t insisted on labelling his drinks with “Flora”, “Fauna”, and “Aurora” ever since. Remy didn’t dwell too long on the kindly barista though, he was a man on a mission.

Turning his attention to his first choice, Space Cadet, Remy watched him from the table he sat at; no wedding ring, his wrist was covered from sight, and he was most certainly gay going by the pride patches sewn into the backpack under his table. Perfect, he could just be the one.

As if on cue, Space Cadet shifted his watch and frowned. Perhaps he’d get lucky-

Ah, he’s leaving. Shit. Well, there was nothing else for it, Remy carefully nudged the trashcan by his seat as the man walked past, tripping him. The man let out a yelp and hit the floor. Remy was just getting up to help him when Anxiety Magnet came hurrying over out of the blue,

“You alright?! That looked painful....”

What the fuck. Remy was about to speak up when Space Cadet locked eyes with Anxiety Magnet and for a moment the two were silent as the latter checked his timer, prompting the former to do the same.

Son of a bitch.

Space Cadet sat up and reached a hand out to Anxiety Magnet, revealing that his timer had just stopped.

“Logan Baird, charmed to meet you, dear soulmate.”, he smiled warmly at the anxious man who helped him to his feet.

“Likewise,”,the anxious man responded, “Virgil Peyton. Nice to know my soulmate’s so handsome.”

Ugh. Remy watched as Space Cadet and Anxiety Magnet - or Logan and Virgil as he was now painfully aware - gathered up the fallen books and left together to go be happy and in love. While Remy could only watch as they did so.

Fantastic. Well, at least he knew who his soulmate must be now. Who knew Dog Guy would be the top dog? Admittedly, Dog Guy was Remy’s last choice in a partner, but hey, after all the trouble he went to, he wasn’t about to argue with fate. Once Roman brought him his order - an iced, Ristretto, ten shot venti, with five pumps of vanilla, seven pumps of caramel, four packs of Splenda, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top with “Prince Phillip” written on the cup this time - Remy made his way over to the lucky fellow.

“Excuse me, mind if I sit here?”, Remy asked as he approached the Dog Guy.

The man smiled warmly, “Oh, not at all, kiddo! Hope you don’t mind my dog or things might get ruff!“. The joke made Remy want to drive his head into the ground at mach speeds, but if they were soulmates, he’d learn to love it. Hopefully. Maybe.

“Like, no worries babes, your dog is totes cute.”, Remy noted the man’s cheerful smile. He sat down and offered his name, “I’m Remy, what about you?”.

“Ah, how rude of me! I’m Patton Fairchild! And this is Foster!”, he gestured to the collie, “It’s nice to meet you Remy!”. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad of a choice after all; he's bubbly, friendly, gentle, and Remy truly couldn’t deny the sexy lumberjack appeal.

“Likewise, though I hope I’m not intruding on anything here. Like, I don’t wanna take up your time if you’re here on a date or-”

“Goodness no, I’m not on a date! Don’t you worry, you’re not interrupting anything!”, he assured Remy.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of you and your soulmate, sweetie.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,”, Patton stated, sending Remy’s hopes soaring before they shattered on the marble floor, “I don’t have one. I mean, I love love and all that, but I never much felt the lure of it myself!”

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Remy’s face fell. None of them were his soulmate. He stayed to talk to Dog Guy- Patton for a while so as not to make the poor guy feel awkward, then watched him leave. Another failure with not enough time left to find his soulmate. Remy sat alone, sipping the dregs of his order. He ignored the constant texts from the office as he stayed til near closing time. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not paid attention when his timer hit zero? Maybe he deserved this; to be miserable and alone for his negligence. His soulmate probably wasn’t even missing him either. Or maybe they were and now they couldn’t find him-

“Mind if I sit here?”

Remy rolled his head towards Roman, taking in the sweet sympathy pouring from his rather lovely smile. In his hand he held a to-go cup and his work apron was replaced with a red and white letterman jacket. Great, now he was keeping the charming barista from going home. But when had Remy ever cared about not being selfish?

“Sure, take a fuckin’ seat, babes.“, he groaned, no longer caring about keeping up the facade of being more put together than he really was. Roman sat down with a concerned gaze and slowly slid the drink over to Remy.

“It’s green tea. It’s a little less extravagant than your usual tastes, but it’s good for relieving stress..”

Roman encouragingly tapped the cup lid, smiling contagiously, “And something tells me the Evil Queen has some tension she needs to release.”

Remy gave a slightly bitter laugh as he looked up from playing eye-contact-chicken with the table and noted the green tea read “Maleficent”. God, this guy’s such a dork.

“It’s more than just some tension, sweetie,”, Remy began, inhaling sharply as he sat up, “I’ve just realised I’m never going to find my soulmate. I was stupid. I wasn’t thinking and the moment I looked away, I missed him.”. The half-snort he gave came out so much more painful than intended, “I let my timer hit zero, babes, and now it’s almost been a full week. My last three chances just walked out the goddamn door. Two of them as fucking soulmates, Roman! How unfair is that?-”

Roman’s expression gave him pause. It wasn’t the sympathetic expression from before, more like he was seeing Remy for the first time. Like he’d made a cosmic realisation that was about to change his life.

“Your timer�� when did yours stop exactly?”, he asked. The wording gave Remy pause as he realised.

He hadn’t accounted for Roman. How could he have been so blind? Perhaps he couldn’t believe the charming barista could be the one. Perhaps he thought the man who smiled genuinely at him every day while he whittled down potential soulmates and greeted him with only the kindest of regards was too good for someone like him.

“It… stopped on Wednesday-”

“Around 2:15 pm? During the lunchtime rush?!”, Roman cut in excitedly. Remy was aghast as Roman pulled back the wrist of his letterman and revealed a stopped timer about as faded as Remy’s. With no hesitation, anticipation growing, Roman gently reached for Remy’s hand, which the latter offered enthusiastically. To their mutual delight, their timers disappeared, proving that they were indeed soulmates.

Both were stunned, Roman’s expression wildly happy, his brown eyes sparkling with equal elation and adoration. As Remy took in his gorgeous tanned skin, beautiful mocha hair, and that wonderful chiseled face he had the growing urge to caress and litter with kisses, all he could say in the moment was,

“Does this mean you’ll finally spell my fucking name right?”

This one was so much fun to write! I think this is the one piece of writing where I mostly nailed Remy’s character, so I hope this one does well TTvTT @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #roman sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #rosleep #soulmate september #coffee shop au #basically #fanfics #my fics #sleepingbeauty #thats the other name for the ship right #otherwise i put all the sleeping beauty references in there for nothing #anyway i really like this one ehe

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rockstarfairy · 2 years

Text

Our Navaria

Pairing: Dad!Loki x Female!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: -

Summary: Loki has sworn himself not to have faith in love anymore. Not after what Sigyn had done to him and their baby, Navaria. But somehow, you're different.

Author's note: i haven't write for so long and i am so so sorry 😭 thankyou soooooo much for your supports on my works hihi i hope you're going to enjoy this one !!

"a child ?" your voice came out quite hoarse, as if you're out of breath. within your spoken question just now; was the tone of bewilderment, as much as being amused, and not anything near disgust or judgement.

"yup, apparently Reindeer Games does have a child." emphasizing the word does, Tony had answered you while his eyes, just like yours, followed accordingly towards the standing muscular figure that belonged to the God of Mischief himself, who is right now cradling a sleeping infant to his chest.

"and the mother would be.."

"a Goddess named Sigyn. left him after knowing Loki's true heritage. Loki and his daughter will have to live here for a while." deep down, you were truly aghast with what Tony had told you just now. why would a mother left her child ? why would a wife left her husband ? if there was a hint of love within their matrimony, shouldn't they stick with each other amidst those horrific truths and obstacles this world has to offer ?

"Y/N, we might need your help. will you please..you know, show him around ?" Tony asked you. his right hand is holding the empty paper cup while his left hand landed on his hips. like a sassy man he is.

you let out a small chuckle. "why ? is it because i am the only one who'd never met him before ?" well, you were attending a completely surreptitious mission during the New York attack. though you'd insisted to fight alongside your Avengers friends, Fury had declined that request. back then, he wanted you to finish everything you've started, referring to that mission of yours. and now, maybe, you should thanked that guy for his absurd decision.

"well" Tony shrugged. "there's a right in that. Reindeer Games sent everyone, who's trying to approach him, away. maybe, who knows, your soft demeanor will enchant the God himself."

giving Tony your 'alright then' glance, you made your way towards Loki. you put on a politely warm smile, as you didn't want him to see you as a menace. after all, you wished nothing more than to help him. he deserves it.

"hi, you must be Loki. i'm Y/N." while speaking, you kept your gaze towards Loki's eyes. this is indeed, the closest you've been to him. you've heard about him, yes, but the truth is, you never met him. not until now.

a cold stare was what you'd received from Loki afterwards. and you've come into a vault of an utter realization, in which, he is the most beautiful man you'd ever laid your eyes on. though everything about him has suggested sin, the way his arms wrapped securely, delicately, around the fragile body of his tiny infant; says otherwise.

"well, brother, this is Lady Y/N. she's here to help us." geez, thanks Thor (who suddenly came out of nowhere but you do appreciate that).

"and tell me, why do i have to trust you, mortal ?" his voice made your whole body tingled with a sensation that you're not accustomed to, and quite failed to be described. his voice is somewhat mischievous, but yet very mesmeric.

"you don't have to trust me completely, Loki. but atleast, please trust my actions." its true. after everything he'd gone through, his credence will be highly arduous to gain. especially, for a complete stranger like you.

Loki gave you a slight nod. accompanied by Thor, who's poorly trying his best to lighten up this intense mood between you and Loki with his lame jokes, you lead the two Gods towards Loki's room.

"alright, this will be your new room. mine will be just infront of the kitchen." your explanation somehow got interrupted by the infant's sudden cries.

"hush now, my littlest princess. daddy's here.." Loki cooes towards his baby while holding her closer to his chest. you could see a glint of worrisome on Loki's face when his daughter still wont stop crying.

"hey..i know you dont trust me but..allow me to help ?" holding out both of your arms, you'd prayed upon the scattering stars in the night sky so that Loki will give you his permission and utmost consent to help him calm the baby.

"brother, give her a chance." boxes of poptarts are waiting for you my dearest Thor.

sighing, Loki passes his daughter to you. you took a few deep breaths, as to calm yourself against the fact that you're holding a soon-to-be goddess, and carefully, you wrapped your arms around the tiny little baby.

"hey, littlest mischief. i know you're scared but see, your daddy is here." while saying those, you rocked your body slowly, left and right, left and right. with your left arm cradling the tiny baby to your chest, you then lifted your right palm to caress her puffy right cheek. delicately, as much as lovingly. among those caresses, your index finger bends slightly to jiggle her cherubic chubby cheeks while cooing sweet noises.

magically, the baby stopped crying.

"yay ! there's my good girl !" you laughed, earning a precious toothless grin from the baby.

unbeknownst to you, Loki was watching this heartwarmingly situation with his mind wandering to the places he'd never know their existence. he still remembers, when he was the one who's waking up amidst the midnight's wind blows just to hold his crying daughter. Sigyn will never do that. his ex wife, to make matter worse, hates it when their daughter cries. she'll do nothing but to yell at his precious baby to stop crying, though we all knew that'll make his sweet little angel becomes more petrified.

and here you are, a defenseless mortal, who'd volunteered to hold his crying little princess. and dare to say, even managed to earn her precious sweet smile, all by yourself.

you then passed the baby carefully to Loki. "what's her name ?" you asked.

"Navaria."

"that's a beautiful name."

Loki only gave you a smile. a genuine one, if you're not mistaken. while you're still in trance due to his charming smile, Loki bids both you and Thor a goodnight and enters his room, holding his little Navaria who still has that adorable toothless grin on her tiny face.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

as week passes, Loki realized that he has an unspoken confession towards you. when Sigyn has left him, he'd made a promise, dare to say, infront of his own mother, to not falling in love with anyone, not anymore. but then you came along, showing nothing but love and care, ever so saintly, towards himself and his little Navaria. he'd found himself, and his tiny little angel, experiencing a complete stroke of serendipity the moment you'd stepped into their life.

at first, your deeds annoyed him. in which he believed, you felt it too. he'd thought yourself as an intruder, wishing nothing but to gain his absolute trust, only to break it in the end. but perhaps, he was wrong. it all started with the simplest action a typical samaritan could've done. every morning before you went training, you'll prepare two bottles of formula milk, warm them up, and put them on the kitchen counter with a scribled note saying 'for Navaria'. Loki will reluctantly took those bottles as to feed his tiny little angel. after all, we all knew for the fact that the God himself will not be able to give his own daughter milk if it wasn't from your help.

thats not all. you'll also prepare his meals everyday without miss. the two of you never eats together, as you're aware with Loki's discomforts towards you. every Sunday, you'll left him a few classics to read, and a box full with toys for Navaria. you'd no idea about their likes and dislikes, so you'd told yourself that every tries are going to worth it.

there's one time where you'd stayed through the night, despite your tired body due to your rough mission, only to provide your utmost care towards the sick Loki. you'd dapped wet towels on his sweating forehead down to his well-built torso, as to reduce the fever he was having. you made him soup, though he'd declined it at first.

at midnights, before Loki could even reach for his crying daughter, you are already there. the sight of you holding his little baby to your chest, in your most delicate manner, makes his heart swollen with love. there are times, when he woke up in the morning, and saw you laughing with his little Navaria in the kitchen. you'll cooed sweet noises, sang a few songs sometimes, and Navaria will looked at you through her adoring gaze. perhaps, his tiny little angel is just like him; both crave for the love and care that Sigyn has failed to offer.

"Lokiii..."

"yes darling ?" Loki hasn't realized this, but he has started to become less insolent towards you. more affectionate, it is.

"its snowing ! we should go outside dont you think ?"

your thrilled expression made him wandered far enough towards the thought of sacrificing everything in his perpetual life, if that means he'll be able to see those adorable smiles of yours through his eternity. so he gave you a slight nod, with a small smile carved on his otherworldly face.

that night, you put Navaria in the stroller that the Avengers had bought. as a gift, they had said. the three of you strolled down the street, amidst the blanket of alabaster snow covering the side pavements. there are moments, where you'll be pointing out at random objects, or buildings, earning such an adorable giggles from Navaria. and a smile of adoration from the God of Mischief himself.

it was when you'd excused yourself to buy some hot cocoas at a nearby coffee shop. when you came back, Loki and Navaria are gone. you've been searching for them everywhere; the dark corners, the forbidden alleys, but still, they are nowhere to be found. not until you saw Loki's lean figure behind an enormous pile of snow. slowly, you made your way towards him.

he looks quite peculiar too, as to say. ah, now you do understand what is going on. perhaps, the icy temperature has stimulated the process of transforming Loki and Navaria into their jotun form. is that why they were hiding from you ? you could see, ever so clearly, the sight of Loki shielding his little Navaria by wrapping her tiny wiggling body with a fluffy blanket that he'd conjured just now.

"Loki ?"

Loki immediately turned around. for a brief moment, the two of you got obscured within each other's gaze. and you'd realized, how ethereally beautiful they are in their jotun's form. "darling i..you should go." there was a slight hint of melancholy confines beneath the sentence he'd just said.

"Loki..you and Navaria..are beautiful.." your voice came out breathy, but serene and heartfelt. it made Loki's breath caught in his throat, as what you'd said just now was somehow quite astonishing for him.

"really ?"

you didn't replied his question. instead, your right hand caresses Navaria's cerulean cheeks, which made her squeals alongside her adorable toothless grin. Loki watched you in his absolute admiration. Sigyn never does that. she'd always hated him and Navaria whenever they're in their jotun's form. its horrendous, such an abomination; she had said.

but you, you're seeing this so-called abomination as something so gracefully exquisite. you'd turned his and Navaria's imperfections into an aspect that needs to be cherished, yet deserves every fondness a person could provide.

and so he kissed you. it was a lasting, deep kiss; fulled with passion and virtuous love. it was a sublime sight after all; with his right hand cupping your jaw delicately, his left cradling the tiny wiggling Navaria, and your arms wrapped around his torso, afraid to let go.

the kiss somehow got interupted by Navaria's adorable squeal; "dada..mama.."

oops

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #daddy loki #sad loki #cute loki #loki cute #loki x reader angst #loki x reader fluff

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ohthemis · 3 years

Text

— in sickness and in health

character: artem wing a/n: reader is referred to as wife/mrs ;; fem! reader sypnosis: you’re sick and your lovely husband takes it upon himself to take care of you. alternatively; artem is a good spouse.

artem rolls over in his bed, shirtless and wincing at the sunlight. it was a wonder sometimes, marrying artem and being so close to him that you can hear his heartbeat. he gets up, rolling over to you, stuffy-nosed and bleary eyes. “love, you’re sick.” you groan and turn towards your husband, who’s placed a hand on your cheek taking a closer look at your face.

“you find this funny, don’t you, mr. wing?” he chuckles and pinches your cheek, earning a yelp from you. “how could i ever, mrs. wing?” the amused smile he has on certainly says otherwise, but you decide to let it go. “i’m sure i can make it to work just fine, artem. you can go and get changed first.” he ‘up-up-up-up’s you and pushes you back on your shared bed.

“absolutely not, mc. plus, we’re both due for a good day-off. celestine said so herself.” you grumble to yourself. “are you sure she said that?” he looks you straight in the eye, leans in a bit, and grins. “would i lie to my poor, sick wife?” you shove a hand on his face and he laughs. he puts a hand on yours and gives you a peck on the forehead. “wait for me. i’ll make you some of that soup you really love.”

“you go ahead, babe. everytime i get to eat your food, i just know i hit jackpot on the husband lottery.”

“and is the food the best part about marrying me?”

“hardly. the best part of marrying you was officially having you, all to myself.”

he hums, and throws on a shirt for good measure. “then i’ll go make you some breakfast and then you can tell me all about how lucky you are.” he walks off, content and all loved up. and laying in your pajamas, you realize that the artem wing you married, who sleeps beside you in nothing but his plaid pants and boxers, was the same artem wing who you bumped into, on the first day of working at themis. or the same artem who’d gotten drunk and professed his love to you, and promptly forgot about it on the next day. and the very same artem who took all his love advice from a psychology book, and put it in his wedding vows.

each and every one of those artem’s had loved you as you’d loved him back. and it was beautiful. and in the stars’ beautifully maneuvered timing, artem walks in, and he places the tray of delicately made breakfast on your bed. maybe the sickness was finally getting to you or it was just in the moment, but you stumbled out an ‘aww’ and promptly burst into tears. artem places the tray on your other side and takes a seat beside you on the bed.

he wipes your tears away, giving you a kiss in the corner of each eye. “what’s wrong? is something hurting?” you shake your head a ‘no’ and place your hands on either side of his cheeks. “i’m just so in love with you. you’re so nice to me.”

“i’m just doing my job.”

“you’re amazing.”

and artem beams, like the morning sunlight crept into his heart and turned it gold from the inside out. he leans into your touch and falls deeper into your praise. “i love you, mc.”

“love you too, artem.”

“mm, now how about you eat some of that breakfast, so i can love you for a whole lot longer.”

“it’s a cold, i’m not going to die.”

he reaches over to the tray and takes a spoonful of breakfast to offer you. “i’m not a baby, i can feed myself.” despite your chiding words, you open your mouth and ge tenderly feeds you. “of course, you’re my wife. let me spoil you from time to time.”

you nod, when a thought enters your mind. “have you already told celestine we’ll be calling in sick today?”

“oh, shit!” he stumbles off of the bed, hopping on one foot for a second to try and regain balance, and grabs his phone by the nightstand. “what would you do without me, mr. wing?”

“i’d get absolutely nothing done, mrs. wing.”

#artem x reader #tears of themis artem #tears of themis #artem wing #tot #tot x reader #zuo ran #zuo ran x reader

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florencwrites · 3 years

Text

ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x9 thoughts

It’s no secret that I absolutely adore Coach Beard; he’s one of my favorite characters on the show, and he’s so well-written and well-acted that somehow I tend to be both perfectly satisfied with the details we see and truly curious to understand more about the way he thinks, what’s really happening re: his professional and personal devotion to Ted, where he comes from and where he’s going. I don’t need to know his name beyond the name he wants to be called, but I want to know why we don’t have any other names for him. And I don’t need him to be a bigger focal point of every episode, but I very much needed this episode’s world-exploding reminder that every single character on this show has a rich inner life, full of joys and troubles.

“Beard After Hours” is like a movie, but one that scatters its climaxes and puts off its resolutions...because it’s not a movie. It’s episode nine of a twelve-episode season of TV. When the episode ended, I felt this almost frantic “But he needed to break up with Jane for good before the end of the episode!” feeling. I was so pulled in by the idea of being able to tell an entire story in one night, of going on an odyssey alongside a complicated hero, that watching Beard and Jane find each other in that club felt as intense as the fact that we don’t know if Ted responded to Rebecca’s voicemail and we don’t know what’s going to happen with Rebecca and Sam and we don’t know who isn’t getting married and who is having a funeral in 2x10 (I mean, I have my strong suspicions, but still!) and we don’t know if Richmond will be promoted back to the Premier League. And on and on. I didn’t mind feeling desperate for the story to resolve even though I understood after thinking about it for ten seconds that of course it couldn’t resolve yet. Or ever. Or yet.

I’m a big fan of the TL episode recaps/reviews Linda Holmes writes for NPR, and I have to quote something from this week’s directly because it so perfectly explains my feelings:

The power of the scene where Beard dances in the club isn't that it's a beautiful romantic climax. It's that it's an explanation of why he cannot seem to extricate himself from this bad relationship. What makes the worst relationships so dangerous is that they have elements that feel good that are very hard to get elsewhere. Beard knows that; he tells it to God. What's concerning isn't that Jane makes the world seem more interesting; what's concerning is she's the only thing that does. That doesn't take away from the joy of the dancing; it just tells you that even happiness is complicated.

I love Holmes’ perspective here so much, because it articulates something I was struggling to figure out: how it can feel so legitimate, like such a (temporary but nonetheless powerful) relief, for Beard to find Jane in that club and to have this moment of euphoria as his night nears an end. How it is possible to experience that relief on behalf of a character while fervently wishing it could end differently, because it’s so clear from the abusive text messages and the toxic calls and the manipulative interactions that Jane is terrible to him and they’re terrible for each other. But Beard knows this. He knows it when he hugs Higgins in the parking lot after Higgins is honest with him in a way Ted and Rebecca and Keeley have not learned how to be, and he knows it when part of his prayer includes the clear articulation that Jane isn’t the cure for what “ails me.” He’s inching closer to greater self-knowledge just as Ted is.

And the two big resolutions that really, really needed to happen did. I didn’t know I needed Paul, Baz, and Jeremy to get to wrap up their own night out on the pitch at Nelson Road, but I did. It brought actual tears to my eyes. And the other resolution was Beard showing up with the other coaches’ coffees for their meeting to watch the game film. As interesting as it would have been to see what Ted would have done if Beard hadn’t shown up, I’m so, so glad that he did. He’s got a messed-up face and some truly epic pants on, but otherwise this is just Beard showing up for work, showing up for his friends. It was incredible to realize that Beard and Ted haven’t been exaggerating when they’ve referred to his sex-and-drug proclivities in the past. The night documented in 2x9 might have been particularly scary and violent and euphoric and awful and meaningful, but this type of all-night adventure isn’t a foreign concept for this guy. In all the other episodes of this show, when we see Beard we’re seeing someone who might have been out all night, who might have spent the hours the sun was down desperately pushing himself closer to whatever edges he could find.

I don’t really want to touch upon all the allusions in this episode. They are abundant, they are well-documented, and also I haven’t even seen the movie After Hours. I enjoyed this episode for its allusive qualities and I enjoyed this episode for what it was and I feel like I have to be at peace with the fact that I’m never going to pick up on every single reference on this show and that is okay.

So, yeah, if this entry on my tumblr dot com blog seems remarkably devoid of references and allusions, it’s not because I’m not into it but because I find it too overwhelming to actually write about.

Very into the Misplaced and Discovered box at the Crown and Anchor. (That’s what Mae wrote on the Lost and Found box at the pub, right? Whatever it is, it’s so funny.)

Beard hallucinating Thierry Henry and Gary Lineker was truly upsetting and a great indicator not only of how broken things are between the Richmond coaching staff right now but also how deep Beard’s self-loathing might go. If you’d asked me before Thursday if I thought Beard loathed himself, I would say no. That deepening of knowledge alone makes 2x9 worth it.

James Tartt and his friends in the alley. Such a nightmare. I go back and forth on how much of the night was real, and part of me has decided all of it is, short of the images of Henry and Lineker. (And even that is real to the extent that it was a way of articulating what was in Beard’s head.) But watching Beard in physical danger brought on by the same abuser who had him so upset in the first place. It was a lot.

I’m so excited that Paul and Jeremy and Baz got some spotlight this episode. It was so wonderful to see them out of the pub. I love that they ended up telling the Oxford snots who they really were. They got to see Beard going to bat for them and smoothing over the situation socially, and that actually made it more possible for them to end up being truthful about themselves. Because they have nothing to be ashamed of, and they deserved the magic of that night. (And for it to end on Nelson Road. Every feeling. Oof.)

I feel like I barely have anything to say about the trouser-mending lady or the many places Beard goes or his key-dropping or the nightmarish feeling of wanting to be home and being unable to be home. It all happened and we all watched it and again, it was a lot. But I do feel incredibly moved and fascinated by the fact that Beard very obviously still hasn’t been home when he brings in the coffee. He’s had to sleep at the club for Jane- and key-related reasons in the past, and this time it’s not that he’s slept there but it still feels like a kind of homecoming he was robbed of for the entire night. Ted and Roy and Nate are there. He’s gotten their coffee orders correct. Ted is growing and evolving (he wants to learn from what’s happened, he’s insisting upon it even when the others resist) but he’s done a really perfect (almost romantic in its loveliness) thing by presumably spending his evening following a breakdown of his own speeding up the game film to 10x speed and adding Benny Hill. Ted is not OK and Beard is not OK and Nate is not OK and Roy is pretty OK but could very easily be not OK because he’s just joined a coaching staff with a whole lot of not OK. But they all showed up.

I am very into the realism of the lights being off in the club other than the coaches’ office (@talldecafcappuccino pointed this out!), and the way we’re seeing their desks from a different angle because this episode is unfocused on Ted. It really added to the mindset of being hungover and exhausted and unable to go home or even to know exactly what home should be; even this warm, familiar place feels off even as it’s a relief to be back there.

I am excited to return to our regularly scheduled programming with the full cast of characters, but I really adored this episode for what it taught us about Beard and what it illuminated about the humor, pain, and complexity of each person who inhabits this universe. Beard may not be loud about his long-standing beliefs or about the things he’s learned, but there’s a lot happening in there and I appreciated getting to spend 43 minutes with him and (in the case of the ticket he scrawls on a piece of paper so the pub guys can get into Nelson Road) the moments he sets in motion.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso 2x9 #meta by me #a lesbian watches ted lasso #coach beard

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven.

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind.

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there.

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair.

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story."

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.”

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh.

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?”

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web.

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project.

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile.

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter.

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise.

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine.

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes.

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile.

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior.

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging.

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers.

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle.

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler

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trashytoastboi · 3 years

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• Request: Hi! Can I request headcanons for Zoro and Ace with a Fem! S/O with large breasts? Thanks!

@mysticbirdpeace

Heyya! 🍀 sure thing! Sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy ~

(Female pronouns)

Headcanons: Ace, Zoro x F! S/O who has large breasts

Warning: Little bit NSFWish🍓

Portgas D. Ace

🔥Ace had heard the guys picking up the ‘What kind of man are you?’ conversation and didn’t quite understand it. Nor the little hints when they said ‘Top or tail?’ Of course when he met {Name} he was suddenly reminded of that conversation and understood perfectly well what it finally meant. (Age of discovery for Ace)

🔥As much as he doesn’t want to admit it…it’s all too obvious that Ace stares whenever {Name} might be wearing something a little tight or even low cut. Ace just thinks every part of her is beautiful, just even more so when she wears something that highlights all of her features. (Blushes a lot every time she leans down and he can catch quite an eyeful)

🔥Does not want to be misunderstood. He loves {Name}, far more than her appearance. It was her heart, her mind, her quirks and just everything about her. But Ace worried that sometimes his sneaky little glances, were maybe convincing her otherwise and this always stressed Ace to the point that he told her, he did absolutely adore her breasts, but it was not the only part of her he loves.

🔥Not to say that he doesn’t get jealous sometimes, especially when he notices other people eyeing {Name} just a little too much, especially a certain ‘feature’. This is usually the time when snuggle bug Ace comes to the rescue and latches onto his partner like a koala to prevent anymore unnecessary gazes.

🔥Ace really loves napping on {Name’s} breasts; he has never had a sleep as comfortable as that. Everything about it from the physical comfort to the emotional comfort puts him at ease and into a deep sleep. As well as being able to hear her heartbeat. At first it used to embarrass {Name} a bit, considering Ace would refer her breasts as his ‘Nap buddies’

🔥Appearance was not the highest thing on Ace’s list of criteria when loving someone, but even he could not deny that having someone as beautiful as {Name} was an absolute pleasure. Especially during intimate time together, Ace enjoyed touching her breasts quite a lot.

🔥Sometimes he still gets caught off guard, Ace didn’t knock and accidentally walked in while {Name} was changing, she hadn’t been expecting anyone so she was taking her time to try on a few different outfits. And at the time, there was nothing on her top half and Ace got the best view of his life, so good, it’s the last thing he remembered before the nosebleed. (Yes, he really pulled a Sanji)

Roronoa Zoro

⚔Zoro can’t say he is a stranger to being surrounded by well endowed women, his eye, along with everyone else’s could confirm that fact. However, it wasn’t until he met {Name} that he truly realized the appeal. And it hit him hard, he would grow embarrassed every time he accidentally brushed against her or saw the way they would bounce in a top just a bit too low cut.

⚔There was an occasion when {Name} had borrowed something to wear from Nami, known for her occasionally risqué outfits. Zoro had seen that shirt countless times before, never going in for a second look until {Name} wore it and his eyes were glued, shamelessly. (Poor boi punished himself with a lot of extra training)

⚔Stresses over whether or not he fixates a little bit too much on her breasts and even brought it up that he was worried and didn’t want her to think that was all he thought of her. {Name} understood and was actually really flattered that she was having that effect on him.

⚔Absolutely gets pissed off when other people make rude comments towards his partner. Yes, he can occasionally be prone to shamelessly staring, maybe even a little imagination stuff with her…however he never disrespects her or makes {Name} uncomfortable about it. This is why on one occasion when the two of them were walking and some person yelled “Nice tits!” from across the way at her, Zoro had drawn his swords in an instant. (He was oh so kind enough to use the back of his swords, thanks to {Name} asking)

⚔There have been those freak accidents when the two of them fell, being knocked over by the ship catching a rather harsh wave that sent them flying. When Zoro opened his eyes he saw {Name} had landed on top of him, to his relief she wasn’t hurt…but she was very embarrassed due to where Zoro’s face was currently nestled between.

⚔Uses her breasts as a pillow, and finds it comfortable just to relax after a long training session.

⚔When Zoro had gone out swimming with {Name} he was startled when she swam over and desperately clung to his chest, pushing her body against his quite closely. When Zoro had inquired as to what was wrong, {Name} was a bit bashful and mentioned that she had lost her swimsuit top and the very moment Zoro realized that her bare breasts were pushing up against his chest…he nearly died. She had never seen him turn so red before and he instantly became defensive, Zoro was extremely particular about not letting Sanji see her in this state.

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

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talatomaz · 3 years

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beautiful | diana prince x fem!reader

a/n: happy new year !! this takes place during 1984 but before the actual plot of the movie happens. this is really long so sorry in advance

warnings: mentions of attempted assault. sexual references

word count: 3.4k

masterlist | request list | request rules

reader is a woc and works at the smithsonian as an antiques realtor. after they receive several artefacts specific to ancient mediterranean culture, she enlists the help of diana prince, a senior anthropologist. reader works closely with her and finds herself starting to develop feelings for her and one day, she’s saved by a mysterious female heroine and figures out diana is not all she claimed to be

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Thank you.”

You smiled to the delivery boy as you showed him where to place the fragile artefacts the museum had just received. It was your job to evaluate whether they were of any value, and if so, whether it was more prudent for them to be sold to someone else or put on display for people to visit.

The moment you were left alone, you’d opened the smallest box in order to determine where these artefacts were from, more specifically, when. You picked up, what appeared to be, a device of some sorts, fit with several random gears. Evaluating the rust and corrosion, you noted on your clipboard that this may have been a Cypriot artefact from the early Bronze Age.

As you made your way through the other boxes, you were about a quarter of the way through when you noticed that all of these antiquities appeared to originate from the Mediterranean. And you knew the perfect person to help explain more about their culture to you.

You gently placed the artefact you were currently examining back in its respective box, locked your office door and made your way to the senior anthropologist who was an expert on the culture.

Lifting a closed fist, you lightly knocked on the door and waited patiently for the door to open, smiling at the person who stood in the door frame when it did.

“Afternoon Miss Prince, are you free for a quick chat?”

You didn’t know Diana Prince all that well, having only interacted on a number of occasions but each time you had, she was incredibly kind and friendly. She had been at the museum longer than you had and was one of the first people to introduce themselves to you and make you feel welcome.

Honestly, there wasn’t much that you knew about her.

She was an enigma.

In the broadest of terms, that was.

By definition, an enigma is someone who is mysterious and difficult to understand.

Now, whilst the brunette was definitely mysterious, she was, by no means, difficult to understand.

One look in her eyes and you immediately saw her for all that she was.

She may not have said more than 5 words to you, but her eyes told you a story. Someone who had gone through immense hurt but remained kind and bright, even in the darkest of times.

Her eyes were beautiful, as was the rest of her. Though that did seem like an oversimplification. She was a goddess, as if sculpted by the Gods themselves - how true that was, you didn’t know yet - and despite that, she never seemed to let her beauty be her one overriding factor. She was extremely smart and intelligent and so much more. Which was why you enlisted her help.

“Of course. Please take a seat.” She said, smiling when you did. “So, how can I help you, Miss L/N?”

“Please, call me y/n. Miss L/N makes me sound like my mother.” You joked.

“Well, then please call me Diana.” She replied in her accent that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

You nodded, “So I’ve just recently come into possession of some ancient artefacts. As you know, I’m required to estimate their value and decide what the museum should do with them. However, it seems that the artefacts I’ve currently examined, all appear to be specific to Mediterranean culture. Now considering you’re our resident expert on that, I figured-”

“That I could come and help you determine it’s authenticity and explain more about them.” Diana finished.

“Exactly. But if you’re too busy, I compl-”

“No, it’s okay.” She interrupted quickly. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I’d be happy to help. I’m glad you came to me, y/n.”

Your lips curved in a smile as you fought to keep the blush that would have certainly risen to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” You asked, standing up, about to head back to your office.

“Lead the way.”

***

For the next month or so, you found yourself working quite closely with the anthropologist, the Smithsonian board having told you both that they wanted you to help create a display for the artefacts to be put on show for the community. Though that meant more work for you, you were secretly grateful because, truth be told, you found yourself developing feelings for the brunette. But you never said a word, knowing she wouldn’t feel the same about you.

You were working late one night, about to leave, before you noticed the light that was on in one of the hallways. Apart from you, you knew that the only person who’d ever stay this late at the museum was Diana. Her, seemingly more committed to her job than you once realised.

Knocking on the door, you waited until you heard a quiet “come in” before entering the office room.

Neatly placed around the room were several boxes, more than likely filled with paperwork and published papers. Her navy leather sofa sat at the far end of the room with a coat draped over one of the arm rests. In front of you, was Diana’s desk. It was as tidy as the rest of the room, papers orderly placed at the ends of the desk, a small lamp placed at the corner and a computer which Diana had been typing on.

Her face softened into a smile when she saw you and she sat up against her chair.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up?”

“Not much. I was just about to head home but since I saw your light on, I figured I’d come by and say goodnight.”

“That’s sweet. Since you’re here, why don’t I walk you out? I was planning on going home myself.”

“Sounds good.”

She grabbed her coat from the sofa and put it on. After locking her door, she walked beside you towards the entrance of the museum.

“You know, it’s a beautiful night and it’s not that late either, why don’t we get dinner?”

You stopped in your path for a brief moment before continuing to walk.

She was asking you to dinner.

Holy shit.

You knew it wasn’t a date since you had had several dinners together whilst working at the artefacts.

But the idea that it could have been still excited you.

And terrified you.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

You had eaten at this cute restaurant, sitting outdoors so you could both bask in the stars. You’d fallen into easy conversation with the brunette, never experiencing any awkwardness or uncomfortable silences. You talked about nothing and everything; every time you made her laugh, you couldn’t help but smile yourself because her laughter was genuine and brought warmth to you.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight, Diana.”

“Me too. I know you don’t get out much so I figured you deserved a break.”

“Hey! What do you mean ‘I don’t get out much’?” You said, feigning being offended while truthfully, you were failing to hide a laugh.

“I’m not judging. Just...making an observation.” Diana laughed.

“Hmm sure. Well, how about you? Are you out often?”

“No, not really.”

“Wow. Now look who’s not a social butterfly.” You joked.

“Yep, we’re just two peas in a pod, huh y/n?” Diana said, smirking when she saw a light blush of red on your cheeks.

***

After that night, you found yourself regularly going out to dinner with Diana and it was getting harder to hide how you felt.

Sometimes, you had a sliver of hope that she felt the same way because she would make excuses to touch you, whether it be gently brushing her hand against yours or stroking her hand against your arm.

But you immediately quelled those thoughts. There was no way someone as beautiful, sweet and smart as Diana would like you.

Shaking your head, as if to rid the thoughts from your mind once more, you walked through the alley that was a shortcut to your apartment.

Abruptly, you felt yourself pushed up against the brick wall, a knife against your throat. You fought the urge to scream, knowing any movement with the sharp blade that close to you would certainly result in bleeding.

“Good girl. Be quiet and don’t scream. Otherwise the next piece of trash left in this alley will be you.”

The moon allowed for you to get a better look at the man holding himself against you. You only saw his face, however, his mouth curved into a creepy smile, reminiscent of Dr Seuss’ The Grinch.

“You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” Even his voice felt slimy, bringing a look of disgust on your face.

“Fuck off.” You said, showing no fear. Oddly, you found yourself feeling calm. Some people may fight and others may flee. But of course, you taunt and curse.

“Oh, you’re going to be fun.”

You readied yourself for anything that may happen, waiting for the opportunity where the blade’s pressure would lighten, allowing you to kick this guy and run away.

But before you could, you felt all pressure against you immediately leave. Looking up, you caught a glimpse of a woman in armour pulling the man off you with, what appeared to be, a glowing yellow rope. The man still held within the rope, she jumped up on the roof and disappeared.

But not before the moonlight had provided some clarity as to who this mysterious figure was.

It was her eyes.

You had difficulty sleeping that night. It was not the attempted assault that had kept you up though, it was the woman who had saved you. You recognised her eyes but the more you thought about it, the more perplexed you became. There was no way Diana was whoever this woman was. But it was her eyes.

This back and forth continued til sunrise when you finally decided to push it from your mind. Yes, her eyes may have been familiar but you hadn’t seen her face nor heard her voice. And if, and when you did, you would then make an assumption as to who she was.

***

“Morning, y/n.”

You looked up to see Diana standing outside your office door, dressed in a simple pantsuit that she somehow made look glamorous.

“Morning, Diana.”

“How are you? Are you okay?”

You carefully noted the thinly veiled concern in her tone before answering.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, brow raised in question.

“No reason. Just wondering.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve just been finalising some things for the display tonight.”

Time had flown by and you were disheartened when you realised it meant the two of you wouldn’t be seeing each other as often; the two of you would go back to your own lives and separate work.

“Y/N?”

You blinked, having been broken from your thoughts when you saw real concern on her face.

“Yeah?”

“You went a bit dazed there for a moment. Are you sure you’re okay?” Her head tilted in question, her hand lifting to gently caress your arm.

“Yeah, sorry. Come on, let’s finish off this display.”

You had trouble focusing whilst you worked, eyes constantly glancing over at Diana, your mind wondering. You knew that even if she was who you thought she was, it had no effect on how you felt about her. She was still the same Diana that you knew.

Just...more badass than you’d first thought.

The two of you left the museum early evening so you could get ready for the gala the Smithsonian was putting on to show off their new Mediterranean display.

Whilst you had put quite a few antiques up for sale to various buyers and other museums, the large majority of them you had advised the board to keep; explaining how, in the long run, it’d prove more valuable.

You got dressed in a black dress that was hemmed below your knees, a low but classy ‘v’ cut shaped plunged neckline to reveal a small diamond necklace that matched with your earrings. You rarely wore makeup but tonight was an exception so your lips were painted a deep red that complemented your tanned skin and your hair was left free, light curls bouncing against your back.

Once you had arrived back at the Smithsonian, you made your way to your boss and the rest of the board who complimented yours and Diana’s work.

You looked around, wondering where the latter was.

As if summoned by sheer thought alone, Diana appeared beside you; her appearance leaving your throat dry. She was dressed in a long navy dress, a long slit in the side showing off her toned legs. She wore a gold bracelet around her wrist, her lips painted bright red, her curly hair surrounding her face.

“You look stunning, Diana.”

“Thank you. You look beautiful too.” Her smile reaching her eyes.

The next couple of hours were spent rotating around the guests and several investors who commended the both of you on your work whilst simultaneously making sizeable donations to the museum.

Truth be told, you hated this part of the gala. You believed that people should appreciate the art rather than wanting to line up their own pockets. It was the main reason you often avoided company events such as these but since tonight was something you’d organised, you needed to be there.

You were currently speaking with an older male whom you knew was an avid investor. Diana had been pulled aside by another investor who wanted to know more about a certain piece of art.

As you engaged in a polite conversation with the man, you felt a shift in his tone as he became more untoward with you. His words were slurring slightly, having consumed several glasses of champagne, and he starting to make inappropriate advances by grabbing your hand or saying wildly unprofessional things.

“Mr Woodbury, I appreciate your interest in me but I do not feel the same way and I’d appreciate it if you could stop with the advances.” You explained as politely as you could when, in reality, you were trying to hide your anger.

“Darling, you’re a pretty little thing and I could give you the night of your life.” He leered at you, leaning closer towards you.

A strong hand pushed him back, “she said ‘no’”

There was no need to even face the person enunciating each word; you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

“Miss Prince, we’re having a private conversation.”

Diana stood beside you, her body turned so she faced the both of you.

“I suggest you leave before I have you removed from the building. And if you ever bother y/n again, I promise you, you will regret it. And a promise is unbreakable.”

The male withered under her stare and slithered away from view. You glanced up at Diana, who towered over you, even more so in her heels, and saw the controlled fury in her eyes.

The way the light of the room shone on her face and illuminated her eyes forced yourself in the memory of the night of your attempted assault.

The realisation hit you like a train.

This was the confirmation that you needed.

It was her.

“Y/N?”

You stared into her eyes, unable to tear yourself from her.

“Y/N?” Diana repeated, resting her hand against your cheek. The warmth of her skin against yours brought you back to reality.

“Y-You. I-”

You stumbled over your words, unable to string any words together to form a coherent sentence.

“Come with me.”

Not waiting for a response, Diana took your hand in hers and led you back to her office. She closed the door, locking it behind her and switching on her lamp so the room wasn’t completely dark.

You stood in front of her, still unsure of what to say.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird all day. What’s wrong?” She asked, her concern evident in her tone.

“You’re her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Her. The one who saved me last night.”

You watched as Diana’s eyes flickered with panic. It was only for a brief moment and you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking.

Her mouth opened as if ready to disprove any of your thoughts before closing it again when she saw the look on your face.

“How did you know?” She sighed.

“Your eyes.”

“I’m sorry?” She repeated.

“Your eyes. They were the same. Since the moment I met you, the first thing I noticed were your eyes. The way they sparkled with kindness but I could still see the hurt behind it. They’re beautiful.” Your voice faltered as you finished speaking.

“Um, that was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. I-I’ll go.”

As you were about to walk out of her office, she moved to block the door.

“Don’t go.” Her accent came out strong.

“Diana, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Look, I appreciate you working with me these past couple of months. It’s been a great help. We can just forget this happened and just go back to our lives.” You suggested, walking back to the centre of the room.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Her words came out in a low whisper, the huskiness of her voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-what?” You swallowed dryly.

“I said, what if I don’t want to forget?” She repeated, walking closer to you whilst you unconsciously backed away slowly until stopping when your back hit her desk.

“I’ve loved spending time with you, y/n. You’ve become extremely important to me. And seeing that guy trying to hit on you earlier angered me because you’re not his. You’re mine.”

Your eyes widened. Though you’d never seen this side of Diana before, you were extremely turned on; a warmth spreading through you.

Diana continued, smiling at the noticeable effect she had on you.

“I know you feel the same way. I see the way you look at me and the way you blush when I catch you staring. You know me. The other me. You’re beautiful and I like you, y/n. A lot.”

You licked your lips and then lightly bit your bottom lip, once again speechless. Never in a million years did you think she’d like you back.

You decided words weren’t going to be enough and instead, you gathered your courage, the alcohol helping you in that respect, and closed the distance between you.

It was a light kiss, practically a peck, just to test the waters as they say but it still felt right.

You pulled away and leaned back against the desk. There was a look in her eye that you couldn’t quite distinguish but before you had any time to dwell on it, Diana instantly kissed you back, this time with more fervour.

She lifted you onto the desk as if you weighed nothing and with her strength, you probably didn’t. Her hands gripped the sides of your waist, steadying you, as you opened your legs wider so she could move between them.

Your arms wrapped around her neck pulling her deeper into you. She tugged your bottom lip between her teeth, not hard enough to make you wince but definitely enough to make you moan.

You felt her smirk against your lips as her hands moved upwards from bracketing your hips to the side of your breasts. She continued the motion before kissing you one final time and reluctantly pulled away.

Your breath came out in a pant, trying to get as much oxygen back into your lungs as possible.

“That was-”

“Amazing.” Diana finished.

You still sat atop of her desk, not having enough energy to move as of yet, and you were sure your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you up either after that heavy make out session.

Diana rested her hands against your waist once more before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek.

How she went from being so full of passion and heat to being so gentle and sweet, you’d never know. You had a feeling she was going to keep you on your toes.

“As much as I didn’t want to stop, we still have people to see. What do you say we talk to a few more guests and then we can go back to my place and finish what we started?”

Diana asked, stroking your cheek with her thumb as her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I’m never going to figure you out, am I?” You said light-heartedly, as you came to your feet.

Diana held your hand in hers and walked to the door,

“I don’t know. I’d say you know me pretty well already.”

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