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milksnake-tea · 3 months

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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: wise likes you, and just about everyone on sixth street knows. ❀ ˎˊ- wise x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 1.3k ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc wise idk im still lvl 26 okay ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: thanks you stellaronhvnters for plaguing my mind w wise. anywho this my mini break from the series LMAO wise. i love you king.

Wise can hardly focus, and for once, it isn’t because of you.

Not that he minds being distracted by you - quite the opposite. He could spend hours just watching you talk and getting lost in your eyes, occasionally nodding or agreeing with whatever you were talking about the day. He liked hearing your voice; it was soothing like a cool river, especially after a grueling day.

But this time, it’s him who’s being stared at, and to his disappointment, the one burning holes into him isn’t you (although he severely doubts he could handle it if it were to be you).

No, instead, General Chop stares at him from the corner of his eye as he prepares other customers’ orders, a hint of knowing in his usual smile. Wise can see the excitement in the chef’s eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.

“Wise?”

He seizes up, bumping his chopsticks. He’s quick to fix himself as you shoot him a nervous, but questioning smile.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he says smoothly (at least he hopes it’s smooth, he still doesn’t know how to talk to pretty people), eager to move past his minor mishap.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you laugh. “I was just saying that you have a little something on your face.”

Wise feels his cheeks warm. “Oh, really? Thanks for telling me.”

He moves to grab some napkins, but you beat him to it. Wise swears something in him malfunctions when he turns and suddenly you’re all too close to him, your hand reached out to clean up his face.

“Wha- Wait, what’re you-” he sputters, nearly falling off his stool as he lurches back.

“Hey, stand still,” you scold, your slight annoyance only serving to speed up his heart rate because who in the world said it was okay for you to be this cute.

At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming from his head, with how fuzzy his mind feels. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but just sit there, dazed as you dab obliviously at the corner of his lip.

As you pull away, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, mentally thanking whatever deities reigned above that he hadn’t fainted on the spot. That would’ve been embarrassing; Belle would never let him live it down.

His face feels cooler - hopefully it isn’t so red anymore. By the time he’s able to think coherently again, you’ve started chatting again. Wise nods along (he has no idea what you’re talking about), and goes to slurp up some of his noodles when he sees General Chop again.

The chef, obviously holding back a cackle, grins encouragingly at him and flashes him a thumbs up in support. Wise internally groans. Would it be a bad idea if he drowned himself in his noodles right now?

And this isn’t the first time either - Wise is pretty sure the entirety of Sixth Street is aware of his… ugh, crush on you (saying it out loud both hurts him and makes him feel warm inside. Which is a terrible feeling. He wants to throw up).

Just last week, he’d seen you at the Coff Café, and Tin Man, being both a gracious cafe owner and a huge romantic, had decided that that day was a good day to have a 50% off deal specifically for pairs if they bought two or more items.

Wise hadn’t questioned it at first, since it was normal for shops to occasionally hold discounts like these to attract more customers. Even he was guilty of it, being a business co-owner himself.

But then you had to call him out in the line, excitedly waving him over as you were at the cashier ordering. Tin Man was behind you, a smile in his eyes that Wise wasn’t sure he liked, but he begrudgingly made his way over.

He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled as you explained the discount to him. They reminded him of the stars he’d see at twilight, when he couldn’t sleep and would climb to the roof just to watch New Eridu’s nightlife.

Naturally, he had accepted your offer of buying him a free drink (no one refuses free food), but he quickly learned to regret it when he saw the mischievous gleam in Tin Man’s artificial eyes.

He still gets flustered thinking of it now - the heart-shaped whipped cream and the whisper of “good luck” haunts him, especially when he thinks about how confused you were at the impromptu decoration.

The amount of times he’s caught his neighbors playing matchmaker, he can’t count on both hands - and that’s not including what Belle has tried. It’d be funny if it wasn’t also incredibly humiliating.

“Master, if you were planning on drifting off, perhaps you should’ve stayed home to take a nap.”

Wise sighs. “Be quiet, Fairy. I’m in public.”

“What?” you blink. Wise blinks back before realizing he’d been a little too loud.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” he chuckles awkwardly, hands fiddling with each other - it’s a nervous habit of his. You smile understandingly.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, pushing your bowl towards General Chop to signify you were done with it. “You’ve been out of it today, Wise. Something on your mind?”

You, Wise wants to say, but he doesn’t feel like embarrassing himself further. “I guess I’m just tired. Long day today.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, the sound music to his ears. You hop off the stool after sliding your share of the payment to General Chop. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

Wise’s heart does a little tap dance at your offer, but he manages to keep his cool. He hastily pays General Chop before eagerly joining you in your short walk to Random Play.

“Bro!” Belle greets him enthusiastically as he opens the door. Her eyes light up when she sees you, and she raises her eyebrows suggestively at her brother. Wise shoots her a glare when you aren’t looking. “[Name], too? How was your da- mmghhifjk-”

Wise smiles innocently as he slaps a hand over Belle’s mouth. You can’t help but laugh at the two, and Wise admires the crinkle the corners of your eyes.

“Ignore her,” he says nonchalantly, wrinkling his nose as Belle licks his hand like the little rat she is. “Do you want to come in, or…?”

“No, I shouldn’t.” You wave your hands bashfully. “It’s getting late, so I should be getting back home.”

Wise nods in understanding. Belle pries herself free and he wipes his spit-covered hand on her sleeve, ignoring her sputters and protests (she chose this path. She will reap its consequences).

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

You nod, shifting your feet. “I guess it is.”

Wise’s brows furrow at your behavior - what’s on your mind. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long before his inquiry is answered.

You take a step forward, and Wise feels your arms loop around him in a tight hug. Suddenly, his senses are elevated, and it’s almost as if everything is enhanced tenfold. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sound of your breath, your hair tickling his face and the heat that radiates off of your body against him.

“I really enjoyed today,” you say, stepping back with a smile that could rival an angel’s. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Wise tries to formulate a response, but all that comes out is a squeak like a dying balloon. God, if his face was red before, it must be flaming now. You giggle at his response, before you wave both him and Belle goodbye and leave for your home.

It takes a good five minutes before he can speak again.

“Hey sis?”

Belle sounds as shocked as him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

He hears his sister sigh.

��Wise, you’re helpless, you know that?” she shakes her head exasperatingly. “And just when you finally made progress too.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz #zzz x reader #zzz wise #zenless zone zero wise #zzz wise x reader #wise x reader #zenless zone zero wise x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️

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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months

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‘You’re doing it again.’ Jason murmured.

‘Doing what, Jaybirdie?’ You blinked at him as his warm hands creeped on either side of your face, his thumbs then stated soothing your aching temples, causing you to groan at the sweet gesture and found yourself leaning into his touch; Glad to finally have some mental relief.

‘Overthinking, gorgeous.’ He replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he silently encouraged you to lean further against him, whilst watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

‘I’m not. I’m not overthinking.’ You tried to deflect but it only came out sleepy and sluggish as you stubbornly tried to pull yourself away from his firm hold.

Jason tightens his grip, though making sure not to hurt you in the process. ‘Then what’s this,mr/mrs/mx deeply furrowed brows?’ He asks as he softly tapped a finger to your brow. ‘I thought we’d talked about you overthinking yourself to death.‘ he adds on and you huff, knowing that it wasn’t wise to keep anything from Jason without him quickly catching on. He was smart like that and knew you well enough when something was wrong; something you love about him but also hated because you didn’t want to fell like a burden for overthinking about the same things over, and over again but you couldn’t help it.

When you didn’t say anything Jason sighed and adjusted you in his lap, resting his head against yours as this thumbs continued to work soothing patterns into your temples. ‘It’s not something to be ashamed of sweetheart, I know you can’t exactly help what you overthink and I don’t want you to think that I’ll get annoyed over it because that’s the last thing you need right now.’

You groan, making yourself more comfortable against him, allowing his bodily warmth to seep into you and drape over you as though you were being coddled in a weighted blanket with well defined muscles and a heartbeat. ‘Don’t you get tired of doing this every time?’ You asked meekly, not wanting to look into his eyes, fearing the worst that could possibly happen.

‘Nope.’ Jason replied without hesitation.

‘Why?’ You asked incredulously. ‘It’s rotten work.’ You add and you felt Jason tighten his grasp on you as he sharply inhaled.

‘Not to me, not to me you’re not. You’re anything but rotten work and I can name a thousand things that’s rotten work but taking care of you is never one of them.’ He says truthfully and you couldn’t help but whimper at this, not having been with anyone that was willing to put up with your tendencies to overthink and self-sabotage as much as Jason. You were about to say something but Jason cuts you off before you could, ‘and don’t go saying that you don’t deserve me when you’ve don’t nothing but proven yourself more then deserving of me in every which way. Don’t sell yourself short sweetheart. It breaks my heart to know that someone as amazing as you don’t see yourself the way I see you.’

‘And what’s that?’ You looked at him only to see him smiling at you as he peppered kisses to your face, making you giggle and smile at the butterflies he was giving you in your stomach. ‘Fucking brilliant, amazing, talented, and an overall fantastic human being who doesn’t deserve to spend a single minute of their life second guessing themselves.’ Jason lists off the top of his head before looking back at you as though to say well? Your move.

‘You win.’ You pouted and Jason laughed, kissing the pout from your lips as he rests his head against your own.

‘Good. Now let’s get some rest yeah? I know you must’ve be exhausted.’ You hummed in agreement, already finding yourself slipping into sleep from his thumbs that were still soothing your temples with their gentle caresses.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagines #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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soiwj · 3 months

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Pastry Present pt.2

Tasty Treat pt.1

Arlecchino x fem!baker!reader

Part 2 is heree!!! Im writing this one in broad daylight, so if i fuck up structure wise then you have the right to berate me :)

Request/Ask here

Life has been going pretty smoothly lately! Since you started working for the house of the hearth, your wallet has increasingly grown in size. Now that you have some extra mora, you get to spend it on things you want rather than only on things you need. Yet somehow, even when something is to be expensive, you always end up getting it for free, or the mora just somehow ends up in your pocket. You like to think the archons are watching over you that day, but little do you know it's a certain fatui harbinger pulling the strings.

Your relationship with the orphanage owner has increased, too. She invites you for tea in her office at times and always helps you out at your bakery whenever you need it. Yet whenever she does come over, she tends to linger, unbeknownst to you.

It's another beautiful morning as you make your way to the orphanage, box in hand, head held high, and seemingly beeming with happiness. You enter the orphanage, not needing anyone to open the door for you since you've received a key from Arlecchino. You walk to the kitchen, seeing Arlecchino setting up plates and cups. "Good morning, baker." Her sultry voice carries over to the doorframe you're standing in. "Good morning, Arlecchino!" You beam brightly as you skip to the preperation area. Arlecchino has done you a favor by carrying almost all of the boxes, leaving you to carry just one. "I carried all the boxes. Where did that one come from?" She leans against the kitchen counter after finishing setting up the plates and cups. "Oh well it's Timmy's birthday so I thought I'd make him something special," you open the box towards her so she'll see the little heart-shaped cinnamon roll.

"We have a strict meal plan here. We can't just indulge the children whenever we please." Her voice grows stern as she tenses up. Your smile falters, but you quickly recover. "I understand that, but a little treat now and then won't do any harm, right? Besides, it's a special day!" Arlecchino's brows furrow as she walks towards you, looking down at you. "Rules are rules. Consistency is important for these children," her demeanor reminds you of what everyone says about her.

You sigh, your frustration evident. "Arlecchino, I know you care about the kids, but I really think something like this is not gonna disrupt anything. Don't you think they deserve a bit of joy?" You plead with her.

Arle grasps your wrist as she pulls you closer, her frame towering over yours and her face nearing yours. Her eyes narrow as she looks at you. "You think I don't know what's best for them? I've raised and trained these children for years. Discipline and routine are what they need. Not some curdled snack." You look down at the box trying to figure out what she means. The cinnamon roll broke apart on your way to the orphanage. You put quite a lot of effort into making it, seeing it broken like this fills you with disappointment and sadness.

You see no point in arguing with her anymore since there's nothing to gift anyway. "You're right. I shouldn't have questioned your rules. My apologies." Tears fill your eyes as you start walking towards the entrance. "Wait, I didn't mean -" before she can finish the sentence, you've already stepped out of the building.

You're surprised when you get a letter in the mail. You open the envelope seeing a folded pieace of paper and... a picture? You take it out of the envelope, revealing timmy sitting in front of a plate of what looks like your frumbled cinnamon roll put together by force. Although it doesn't look like the most appetizing snack, timmy looks extremely excited in the picture. In the corner, you see a black thumb. You take the letter out of the envelope, surprised Arle did all of this for you.

The letter reads:

Dear,

I am sorry for my behavior today, I shouldn't have been so harsh on you. You are merely trying your best to make the children happy, and I do not want to seem ungrateful of that. I did not mean to upset you with how I spoke about your pastery. Your baking skills are immaculate, and I want to preface that I do not undermine it. I want to let you know that you may give the children treats from time to time, just not too much.

If you have the time this evening, I'd like to have some tea with you in my office.

Your employer friend

Arlecchino

Your mood lifts in a flash. You're thankful for such a wonderful friend. You pick up the picture as you stand, walking towards your fridge. Using a magnet, you stick the picture to the fridge and write the date on its white border.

Part 3 coming soon!!!

Im literally screaming at the lack of romance in this one what the fuck

I PROMISE ILL MAKE THE NEXT ONE REALLY GOOD!!

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin #i love arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin impact #x reader #bakery #cute #baker #fem reader #fem!reader

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voltronisanobsession · 17 days

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So you like my ideas, huh? Well, I hope I can continue to create some good ones for you! I shall try my best 🫡

Oh! I do have one request in mind, how about Percy being paired with reader who’s the child of Athena? Yes, yes, I know an amazing half-blood known as Annabeth exists but I had something in mind.

We all know how children of Athena are seen as wise, intellectual, clever, and combative people but what if the reader was different than that? There’s several types of intelligence after all, so what if they specialized in emotional intelligence and craft?

I can see them being insecure of their “abilities” since they know their siblings can do better, and even fear that Athena herself is disappointed in them, but, while Percy thought it was strange at first, he soon found himself enjoying those traits.

I mean, with their emotional intelligence, the reader knows when he’s upset no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and they tend to give him gifts like Melinoe!reader. They’re probably usually architectural models, weavings, mini sculptures of what he enjoys… You know all that good stuff. They probably gifted him something as something to remember them by when he went on a quest… but I’ll leave that up to you.

Combat practice to bond/as dates 👀?

Also, I’m not sure if you saw, but I like long headcanons so stop apologizing and keep it up!/lh

Poor all of your thoughts into it if you have to or want, I like it!

Percy with a Child of Athena!Reader

I literally LOVE these detailed asks UGGHHH!! I love the idea of instead having a different form of intelligence as a child of athena like damn😍 I'm getting used to brain dumping on these, its a work in progress🙈

Sorry for answering so late😭

Lowkey this reader sticks out like a sore thumb amongst their siblings😭

I like to think that most Athena kids are usually on the more serious sides, so it surprises a lot of campers outside of the Athena cabin to see Reader extremely expressive!

While the other Athena children spend their time devising tactical plans for big camp games, reader is just on the side doodling architectural designs and whatnot

They aren’t as involved in what their siblings do because it doesn’t interest them much

Like whenever they try and ask for readers opinions and start using big ass words, they just smile and nod cuz they had no idea what the others were saying

Athena's children are extremely intelligent so its difficult for reader to be on the same wave length as their siblings

It lowkey makes them feel like an outcast in their cabin because they cant really connect with their siblings like they do with each other while they talk about subjects beyond reader’s comprehension

Constantly being surrounded by books, scrolls and maps full of knowledge, reader often beats themselves over not being able to comprehend and show interest in wanting to learn about these types of things

They’re led to believing that they are a defect amongst their mothers children (crying)

They are always surrounded by reminders of their own inabilities to match their sibling’s intelligence which is why they spend little time in the Athena cabin, and even littler time with their siblings

Readers only saving grace is that they are always in tune with peoples emotions and feelings, no matter how well or little they know the people around them

Whether its feelings of anxiousness, sadness, quiet anger, or happiness, reader always seems to know how a person is feeling!

The first time Percy meets reader is when he spots them at the crafting hut

Being one of his first activities in the beginning of the day, he notices how reader is always there before anyone else

Percy probably thought you were apart of the Hephaestus cabin or something like that with how many times he’s seen you sculpting and carving away at a new project every other day

So he’s surprised when you reveal that you’re actually a child of Athena

He would definitely notice how you distance yourself from your siblings, especially during breakfast, lunch and dinner

He’s good friends with Annabeth so he sees the differences between you, her and your siblings

While she and her siblings are more closed off and have their noses stuck up a new book everyday, your always seen drawing or weaving a new tapestry for your cabin

You show your emotions more openly compared to their more dismissive nature as well!

He definitely sees you as the 'social butterfly' of the Athena cabin

The more time he spends with reader though, he notices just how in tune they are with his feelings

He could give the smallest, most insignificant indication that he's had a bad day and you'd be able to read him like an open book

It's easy talking to you about his conflicting emotions, your patience and thoughtful expression gives him more confidence to just let everything out

I think he would definitely fall for how empathetic you are in many situations

You've made many friends with campers from different cabins because of this quality trait! Always learning and understanding a situation/conflict that arises, you're always able to resolve the problems that makes it fair for all parties involved

Despite this, Percy is confused and a bit surprised to find out that you're actually insecure about this dominating trait of yours

"What?! It's literally the best thing about you though!"

"I know but its just! My siblings aren't the way I am. They're able to actually use their skills for something. All I can do is listen to people and make friends. That's nothing special. I'm useless."

It PAINS him to hear you say that because its obvious you don't understand the importance of being as emotionally intelligent as you are

He makes it his mission to show you just how many people you've helped, to show you that you have a reason to be proud of what you're able to do!

You slowly open yourself more after hearing all his reassurance, from him and other people around camp

It's definitely a positive change as you have a pep to your step now. You engage with you siblings more now that you have a confidence in your own abilities.

You make him many sculptures as thank you gifts! Even when he says that you don't need to, you cant help admit that enjoy giving him these gifts with a nervous smile

You've made him a mini version Riptide and even have given him a small owl pendant

You were hesitant to give him the pendant because it seemed more intimate compared to your other gifts, but he happily accepted it with a soft smile

AND WHEN HE PUT THE PENDANT ON IN FRONT OF YOU YOUR HEART NEARLY LEPT OUT OF YOUR CHEST I CCANNTTT

I think reader would be pretty aware of Percy's feelings for them which makes them feel fuzzy

So imagine how you feel when Percy pulls up to you one late afternoon after not seeing him for the entire day to give you a small pendant of his own

The sculpting of the trident is definitely more crude and less detailed compared to the one you gave him, something Percy abashedly admits but you wave him off

"It's beautiful, thank you Percy."

"No problem, now we're matching!"

You're aware of your own feelings for him as you are aware of his feelings for you, so it doesn't take long for a confession to happen

I mean matching pendants? come on bro its so painfully obvious to everyone

Percy falls for who reader is, not because their a child of Athena

He doesn't care that you're different from your siblings because he understands everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses

You still represent Athena with pride and he'll happily support you till the end

PERCY IS SUCH A GREEN FLAG IN GENERAL I LOVE WRITING FOR HIM💔💔

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #pjo #percy jackson pjo #percy jackson headcanons #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x you #Percy jackson and the Olympians #percy pjo #Percy jackson #x Reader #pjo headcanons #pjo percy #headcanons

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shootingstarwritings · 4 months

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A Beta makes, an Alpha takes

TW: homophobic slurs

Eduardo Garcia was a content creator who, like many others in his field, lived in the SolCal area. He was a self-described ladies man and an amateur pick-up artist. Most of his videos and livestreams focused on giving life advice for men. That night was the same as it always was, with Ed saying his catchphrase, “A beta makes, an alpha takes,” to his impressionable audience.

Once the stream ended and he counted his donations, Ed made his way to the bar. It didn’t take long for him to find another girl to screw. His type was always the same: eager young women new to town and looking for something deep and steady.

After a long and sensual session, the girl whose name he forgot asked if what Ed wanted for breakfast that morning. She had wanted to cuddle, but Ed’s protests kept her at bay. Ed pretended to think for a while before saying, “I’ll treat ya. It’ll be a surprise,” before kissing her.

Around five the following morning, Ed snuck out of her apartment having lost zero winks of sleep that night. ‘Not my fault there’s so many suckers in this town,’ he thought to himself, grinning the whole way back to his apartment. ‘They wouldn’t fall for fellas like me if they had a lick of common sense. I just do what I do. If they don’t wise up then it’s on them.’

That morning should’ve been like all the other ones for Ed. He was in a fantastic mood to grab a quick bite and then spend some time in the gym after scoring as hard as he did the night before. However, just as he reached the floor his apartment was on, he caught sight of his neighbor standing unusually still.

Carlos was exactly everything that Ed hated about the SolCal area. They were in the same field as influencers, but Carlos focused more on “Affirmations of the self,” and “Queer rights,” and other stuff Ed had long-since forgotten about. Carlos had gone to great detail to explain, but Ed had mostly tuned out whatever didn’t relate to Carlos’ follower count or the cash he was making. Knowing the two would never get along, Ed preferred to avoid Carlos altogether, even if he did secretly wish the two would collab so that Ed’s follower count would grow.

Yet, on that morning, Ed couldn’t take his eyes off of Carlos. He stood in front of his apartment door, staring blankly ahead. A few moments passed, but the man didn’t even blink. Ed knew he should just leave him along and mind his own business, but a nosy part of him urged him forward.

“Hey man,” Ed called out, “You okay? You’ve been standing there for like an hour or something.”

Carlos’ head immediately snapped towards the direction of Ed’s voice, causing the latter to nearly jump out of his skin. “I was unable to court another female,” said Carlos in a stilted, unnatural tone. “I was reviewing what I did wrong. Forgive the intrusion.”

‘Court another female. So the fag’s trying to get with chicks, now?’ thought Ed before being struck by a genius business idea. “Good on ya, man!” Any prior concerns about Carlos’ odd behavior were discarded to the wind as Ed wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Good to see ya swinging for the right team. ‘bout time you dropped all that fag shit,” he said, pointing a thumb to the pride flag hanging on Carlos’ door.

“Fag shit…?” echoed Carlos, but he didn’t offer any resistance as he was guided to Ed’s apartment.

“You came to the right place, my friend. Nobody knows how to pick up the ladies quite like this lady-killer.”

“You kill them?”

“Ha-ha! Aw, ya crack me up, big guy. C’mon, I’ll give ya a few pointers.” For Ed, giving Carlos several of his lessons and even showing him the streaming setup was an investment. He was gaining much money from doing this, but all he needed was to win Carlos’ trust over and he’d be swimming in new subs and a brand new market to sell. There just had to be guys who played for both teams on Carlos’ faggy audience, he assured himself.

After about half an hour of coaching, Carlos repeated Ed’s lessons like a college student cramming for a final. “A beta makes, an alpha takes.” For whatever reason Carlos seemed particularly fond of that phrase.

“We’re the men. The providers! That’s why we gotta remind this pussified society who’s really in charge. The alphas,” said Ed, flexing his bicep to punctuate his point. His body was one of the few things he had worked honestly for. Steroids and diets were a frequent topics in his online rants. To Ed, if one couldn’t get a body like his naturally, then they couldn’t call themselves a real man.

“And this has worked to acquire mates?”

“Mates? Bro, I’m swimming in pussy. And soon you will too,” said Ed. He lightly tapped Carlos’ chest. “With a bod like this? It’ll be even easier. Stick with me and I’ll get you laid. Just, uh, don’t forget ‘bout that collab I mentioned.”

Carlos, after what seemed like an eternity of stone-cold stoicism, finally cracked a smile. “Yes, I would love to collaborate with you.”

“Awesome! Lemme get something to celebrate.” It was still early in the morning, but it was always five o’clock somewhere, right? Ed made hi way over to his fridge and pulled some of the quality beer. The cheap stuff was reserved for those rare moments he had a girl over. “We gotta celebrate this new friendship of ours, my man. I got--!”

Carlos tackled Ed as he walked back to the living room. The two crashed onto one of his couches in a mess of struggling limbs. “Yo, what the fuck, man?!” cried Ed. He tried to push Carlos off, but froze as he saw Carlos’ body convulsing and his eyes rolling up, showing the whites. Seizure? Stroke?

Before Ed could reach for his phone in his pocket, Carlos leaned forward and locked lips with him. As soon as the two made contact, a slimy creature flowed from Carlos’ mouth into Ed. Once the substance made contact with Ed, his body began unresponsive. He tried to struggle and push Carlos off of him, but his arms remained heavy and limp. More and more of the slime pumped into Ed until Carlos’ body, unconscious yet still convulsing rolled off of the couch.

Ed couldn’t move but he could still feel a chilling sensation spread throughout his body, filling him up. The slime crawled down his throat and began to expand inside of him. Most of it traveled down his esophagus and began to assimilate his core, arms, legs, and toes. Each limb seized and shook as it became corrupted by the invader.

Ed tried to scream as it fell the creature fill his head and coating his brain, yet he could do nothing but endure the sickening yet pleasurable feeling. It was filling him up, and for whatever reason, Ed couldn’t help but enjoy the way the creature dominated him. His body, still unresponsive to his pleas for help, merely humped the air and sensually moan as it was taken over.

Eventually, Ed blacked out. The last thing he perceived was his hands touching his face and his own laughter.

~~~

‘Please, give me my body back,’ whined Ed.

“Give it a rest, Ed,” the creature possessing Ed said, grinning to himself. “Thank you for providing this impressive specimen, by the way. I quite enjoyed the takeover.” He tilted his head as he read the magazine. “Hmm, you are well-endowed, indeed. Perfect for my mission.”

A few days had passed since the creature slithered into Ed’s body. Ed had woken up to see his body piloted by some kind of foreign invader. Despite Ed’s pleads, it refused to give up control, saying, “I’ve been needing a strong and virile specimen to breed and spread.”

‘You can’t fucking do this to me! It’s not right,’ Ed begged from the recesses of his own mind. ‘I’m a human being. I don’t deserve this!’

“Your mind is intact, is that not enough for you?” the creature said as he jerked Ed’s cock in the couch. “You could have ended up like my previous experiment. Right, Carlos?”

“Right you are, my alpha,” said the thing inside of Carlos. Ed tried to look away from Carlos’ naked and puppeted body, but the creature didn’t have the decency to give him that.

Carlos was not the creature’s first victim, but it was the first that didn’t suffer massive brain damage from the creature’s invasive efforts. However, the creature still hadn’t quite managed to access Carlos’ memories and personality. It had managed to figure out the basics and just needed one more attempt to do a proper possession. Ed was the creature’s first success, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“What else do you wish, my master?” said Carlos as he eagerly marched over to Ed, swaying his hips and sticking his ass out as he spoke. “Do you want to breed me once more? Fill me up with more of your spawn so I may go and spread?”

While Carlos hadn’t suffered brain damage, but the trauma of the invasion caused him to become catatonic. To remedy this, Carlos was the first one to received the creature’s spawn. The creature, riding high thanks to Ed’s disgust at the homosexual act, fucked Carlos’ body and let one of its children pilot the still-living husk.

“Please, act a bit more like your host would. Keep reviewing the videos.” Ed mentally screamed to himself as his invader forced him to say that. Even if the creatures had little idea as to how to blend in society, the sheer amount of content that Carlos and he made would guarantee that they had plenty of references for impersonating them. “Later, I’ll pump you full. I just… need to explore this body of mine a bit more.”

Carlos cleared his throat before giving a sweet, nonchalant smile. “No prob, my man. Later we should go out, though. Get familiar with the area.” He winked and said, “Later,” just as Carlos always did.

‘Please, let me go,’ Ed tried once more. The idea of the creature doing this to his friends and family, acting like him the whole time, was a hell he couldn’t bear. ‘I-I’ll even hook you up with another better. Better bodies, just please let me go…’ Ed internally sobbed.

“You’re quite pathetic,” the creature sneered as it violated Ed’s body once more. “Where’s your bravado, Eddie~? You were swimming in pussy just a few days ago. Now you’re pounding men and craving cock.” Ed’s body let out a malicious laugh as ropes of cum erupted from his stolen dick. “It’s like you always said. A beta makes, an alpha takes.”

#male possession #male body possession #slime possession #gay male possession #gay possession #gay story #gay fiction

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undergoing-mitosis · 6 months

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i am going to ramble about my death note accent and language headcanons (wammy's boys + light) okay thanks

L is very British. This fits surprisingly easily with Alessandro Juliani's incredible dub performance, but just lose the Canadian(?)ness. He still has that slight drawl and softly pronounces every consonant, so it's less bo'o'wa'a bri'ish and more autistic every consonant is pronounced British. Every language he speaks is practically perfect accent wise, he tends to be a bit of a chameleon. You can only tell that he's not native Japanese when he speaks it by a few lilts on certain sounds which aren't quite right, but even then it's only noticeable if you're looking for it. Knows an ungodly amount of languages fluently: he had a period of hyperfixating on learning a bunch between cases, before he got bored and moved onto advanced Go strategy.

Light is Japanese. Mamoru Miyano's voice is canon. That is all I have to say on the matter. He also knows a few other languages from his studies, including English, but knows very little about using these languages in practice, making his speech sound very formal and textbook-y.

Mello is from somewhere in east Europe, but given he's lived at Wammy's since he was around 5-ish he had completely lost his accent. So his base accent is British like the rest of them. Whatever his native language may be, he can understand it but not speak it. Mello tended to err on the side of more rough British, dropping consonants no matter how much Roger tried to make him speak properly. He never devolved into full roadman though. When he ran away to the US, he taught himself how to speak with an American accent. (this idea is directly from Crush on ao3 haha) Over the years of the time skip he perfected his accent, now it is indistinguishable from a native LA resident. However, he is still having to actively put this accent on. Post-Mafia, Mello doesn't have to put up a front of being purely American any more: he still does it out of habit, especially in public, but in private his voice will become an odd mix of American, British and a few muscle memory sounds that come from his mother tongue, creating a unique sound. When Mello loses his composure (mainly, when he gets pissed at Matt) he devolves into full British expletives. He is known he mutter "bloody hell" under his breath frequently. He can also speak Japanese fluently, along with French and bits and pieces of a few other European languages.

Matt is Canadian. I don't know, I just think a Canadian accent suits him. Picked up a few British turn of phrases at Wammy's, but given that he moved there later than Mello he kept his accent. The only Japanese he knows is osmosised from anime. He also picked up wingdings from that period of time when every email he sent would be in it for funsies.

Near is also British. Very much has that autism British accent, without the added drawl in L's, making him sometimes sound quite posh even though he isn't. Nate River is the most British name I have ever seen I'm sorry I don't make the rules. He learnt Japanese for the Kira case, and can speak it pretty fluently and without a strong accent, but as a rule of thumb he has no interest in learning languages: he'd rather spend his time making paper cities or studying quantum physics. An exception to this is code languages: he knows morse code fluently.

#death note #dn #l lawliet #l death note #light yagami #yagami light #death note mello #mihael keehl #mello #death note matt #matt death note #mail jeevas #near #near death note #nate river #thoughts n rambles #death note headcanons

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ruh--roh-raggy · 8 months

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The Bunny and Her Big Scary Dog (Punk! William Afton x Fem! Reader)

Hello hello! More punk Will is finally here! I was having such bad writers block getting this update out, so sorry if it seems a bit staggered pacing wise and as I'm sure many of you know unfortunately time does not stop just because I want to sit down and write, so apologies for the delay. BUT! Now we have a new story with the big strong man, it's gunna be fluffy, it's gunna be sweet, we're going to get more scary metal man Will being an absolute SIMP for reader, it's gunna be great. I hope you enjoy, if you would like to be added to my rage list, please let me know!

WARNINGS: Some swearing, age gap (Reader is in her 20's Will is in his 50's), all fluff

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 2,745

“This definitely isn't what I thought you meant when you asked me to bring you home but I’m definitely not complaining.” Will smiles, leaning down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss. You laid in a mess of tangled limbs in bed, Will’s arm wrapped around your waist as your head laid against his strong chest. You smiled as you listened to the steady beating of his heart, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the intricate lines of his tattoos that wound their way around his forearm. Will had noticed that as your weed fueled make out session on the hood of your car had died down your unwavering confidence was slowly replaced with anxious fidgeting. “What's on your mind, bunny?” He asks softly. “I can see something kicking around in that pretty little head of yours.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitating to respond. Embarrassment burned in your chest as you finally spoke up, “I know I act all tough and confident, but I… can we take things slow?” You whisper into the deafening stillness. His large hand was warm against your lower back, his thumb stroking the space soothingly. You were honestly a bit ashamed over the fact you asked to slow down, especially since you were the one who initiated the intimate moment between the two of you. Will was experienced, he knew what he wanted, you were still in the process of figuring that all out. Before your mind had the chance to wander about how you would somehow manage to mess this all up, how he wouldn't want to wait for you, he spoke up.

“Of course rabbit. We can move as fast or as slow as you want.” You rest your chin on his chest so you can look up at him, Will smiles at the way your eyes sparkle in the soft light. He cradles your head in his hand, his thumb tracing over the shell of your ear making you shiver. “Are you sure you're comfortable spending the night?” He asks softly. “We have all the time in the world, there's no rush.”

You nod, “I want to be with you, Will.” Your voice trembles as you speak. He carefully guides you upwards, letting your lips linger over his as his eyes scan over your face.

“How did I manage to win over such a pretty little thing like you?” You giggle, nuzzling your face against his neck to try and hide your flustered expression.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Will, but, this?” You make a vague gesture to his entirety. “Hot as fuck.” He chuckles, you smile in return, resting your cheek against his chest so you could still look up at him. “Not to mention you’re sweet, charming, funny, and honestly one of the most amazing guys I’ve ever met.”

“You know I still could be a murderer.” You laugh, rolling off of him, bouncing off the mattress slightly as you fall onto the bed. “I am just some random man you met at a metal show.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He places a soft kiss to your lips, you let out a content hum as your hands trail over the vast expanse of coarse hair that covers his broad chest.

“Coming from the man that holds me like I’m made of glass?” You tease with a wink.

“How could I not?” His large hand trails down your thigh, hiking your leg over his waist. Your face grew warm at the sheer difference in size between his body and yours. “You’re like a little doll, I’d hate to break something so small and fragile.” He smirks at your flustered state as he holds you close, your chin held between his thumb and finger as his warm breath bounces off your lips. You whimper softly as his thumb strokes along your jaw. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Get some sleep rabbit.” He cradles your head to his chest, the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of being pressed so tightly against him quickly lulling you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning cuddling a pillow to your chest, your face buried against it and you couldn’t help but smile as you inhaled the scent of Will’s cologne. You hear the sound of his footsteps padding up the hallway, the smell of breakfast food slowly filling the room. You sat up and stretched, a sleepy smirk spreading across your lips at the sight of Will carrying in two plates piled high with bacon, toast, eggs, and home fries. “Good morning rabbit.” You shiver at the sound of his gravelly morning voice.

“Good morning handsome.” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you look at him hungrily. Will’s shirtless form, sweatpants sitting low on his hips showing off his burly, muscular body. He hums as he pulls you into a kiss, smiling against your lips.

“I could definitely get used to this.” He chuckles against your lips, your arms wrapping around his strong shoulders as he effortlessly maneuvers you into his lap. “How did you sleep, sweet girl?”

“That was the best night's sleep I’ve gotten in a long time.” You giggle, letting him cradle you in his arms, dipping you back slightly as he trails kisses along your jawline. “You even went through all the trouble of making breakfast.”

“Well, I’ve been told before that I fall into the category of… oh, what are you guys calling it these days, a DILF?” You choked on your sip of coffee, sputtering and coughing through laughter as you set it down on the nightstand. “It only makes sense for me to cook breakfast for my girl.” He winks.

“Thank you regardless.” You share a laugh. After breakfast Will left you to shower, you smiled as you padded back into the room to find a set of fresh clothes laid out on the bed waiting for you. The thick, soft T-shirt was warm against your freshly washed skin. You pulled in the pair of too long lounge pants, rolling them at the waist to shorten them but even then they pooled at your ankles. You wandered down the hall, your brows furrowing slightly as the sound of music met your ears. You headed downstairs, standing in the middle of the living room. Bright sunlight filtered through sheer cream curtains that hung in the windows, a warm breeze drifting in from the outside. Following the sound you made your way through the kitchen to stumble across a door that was left open by a crack. Pushing through it you found Will, sitting on one of his work benches in the garage, a small amp at his side and a sleek black bass perched in his lap. You leaned against the door frame, watching him with a small smile. He was too lost in his playing to even realize you were there, a deep, rumbly riff rattling its way through your ribcage.

“You really are full of surprises, huh?” His eyes snap up to you when you suddenly speak up.

“I guess you could say that.” He greets you softly, beckoning you over. He sets the base down, hopping off of his seat. He wraps his arms around you once you're within reach, your hands sliding over his chest as he rocks you side to side for a moment. “You know, my guitar could use some new strings. Would you want to take a ride into town with me today?”

You beam up at him as he asks, “I would love to.” You squealed as he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you back into the house to finish getting ready before you climbed into the passenger seat of his car. Will wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him as his lips find yours with ease. You let out a flustered giggle as he pulls away. Will slotted a cassette tape into the player of the old car, The Misfits blaring to life through the speakers. The entire way to your destination Will had you laughing, the goofier side of his personality shining through as he recounted his time as a gangly, awkward twenty-something year old in college.

“They had this pale, string bean with dark circles under his eyes and box dyed black hair, face full of metal, the whole nine.” You rested your forehead against his shoulder, attempting to cover up your laughing fit. “The judges were probably like what the fuck is this? What cemetery did they find this dumbass moping around in?” He chuckles along with you for a moment. “Then I went on to kick all their asses and that's how I became the ‘Collegiate Robotics Champion of Utah’ or whatever bullshit title it was.” He glances down at you briefly, a smile playing on his lips. “I can't get over how pretty you are.” Your cheeks warmed at his compliment.

“Oh, um, thank- thank you Will.” You stutter bashfully. You hesitantly mean forward, your lips pressing softly against his scruffy cheek. You pulled into the lot, a small strip mall of shops with the music store at the center. Will wraps an arm around your waist once you stand from the car, pulling you to him and placing a kiss to your head before taking your head and leading you towards the door. You trail closely behind him as you enter the music store, your eyes wandering the racks of different guitars that lined the walls.

“Mr. Afton!” The twenty something year old behind the counter calls out, giving the older man a casual wave. His blond hair curled out from underneath his beanie, an old Dead Kennedy’s T-shirt hanging loosely off his scrawny frame. “Got a new eight string that might interest you, pretty sexy, pretty cool.” He rambles off as the two of you approach. He shoots you a flirtatious smile once he notices you're at his side. “And who might this pretty little lady be? Your daughter?”

“That’s my girlfriend, chief.” The cashier pales at the realization. His mouth falls open to hurry out an apology but Will just waves him off. “Guess I don't look too bad for my age.” He jokes with a laugh. Will goes on to ask him for a couple packs of strings and to see that eight string he mentioned. “I thought he was going to throw up.” He remarks as he turns to you, making you laugh.

“You don't seem to realize how scary you are.” You giggle in response. “He just called you old and tried to hit on your girlfriend in one move, I'd probably throw up too.”

“I guess you have a point, sweetheart.” He chuckles. He lets out a long whistle as the employee carries out the guitar from the back.

“She is a beauty.” He remarks excitedly as he passes the instrument over the counter to Wil. Your cheeks grow warm as you watch his massive hand wrap around the extra wide fretboard with ease.

“How much?” The two chat while Will idly strums the guitar, even without being plugged into an amp you didn't miss the soft melodic tune he effortlessly played. “Fuck it, you sold me, I'll take it.” The case is retrieved from the back, the guitar safely tucked away for transport. Will shoots a wave over his shoulder as the two of you walk out. He slides the guitar into the back seat of his car before taking your hand and pulling you along to the other stores. You wandered around, laughing at all of Will’s jokes, both of you growing slightly flustered whenever he would steal a chaste kiss from your lips. You paused at one of the racks in the clothing store you had wandered into. Your fingers running over the deep blue fabric of a denim jacket that had caught your attention.

“How long have you had your battle jacket?” You ask as you look up at him.

“Since college, maybe even a little earlier.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, glancing down at the jacket before his eyes trail back up to you. “Why, want one of your own?” He asks with a smile.

“Well I can't keep stealing yours.” You wink.

“I don't know bunny, I'm hoping I get to see you in only my battle jacket one of these days.” He smirks down at you, chuckling at your flustered expression. “But if you want one of your own I'd love to help, I think I have some patches at the house you can steal.”

You sat on the floor across from Will, a shoebox full of old patches sat between you. “Oh, can I use this one?” You ask, pulling out a large black square with fat, red block letters that read ‘PUNCH MORE NAZIS’.

William beamed at your choice, “that's my girl.” His hand falls to rest on the top of your head. “Excellent choice, and I told you, use whatever you want.” He chuckles. Will holds a couple pins between his teeth, helping you orientate the patch how you want it before securing it in place to sew. “What's that look for?” He asks when he notices you studying him, a small smile on your lips.

“I just like watching you work, you're a lot better at this than I am.” You giggle.

“Well, I'm sure I've had a lot more practice.” He grins. “Come here, let me teach you a trick.” He situated you in between his legs, your back resting comfortably against his chest as he worked with the sewing needle in front of you. He makes a circle with the thread, wrapping it around the needle a few times before pulling it through, the thread eventually gathering into a perfect knot at the end. He walks you through his process for sewing on patches, carefully explaining to you the best way to stitch so you wouldn't stab your fingers, how to get through really thick patches, and how to secure your stitches without having to deal with all of the obnoxious knotting. He held you close, making you laugh, occasionally kissing your cheek in the middle of his explanation. “Damn, your jacket’s going to be even cooler than mine soon.” He chuckles. His face suddenly lights up as he gets an idea. “Wait here, there's something I want to give you.” He steals a kiss as he stands before jogging into the other room, he comes back a few moments later with his own battle jacket in hand. He smiles at you, hooking one finger behind a loose section of a patch and ripping it clean off. He hands it over to you, your fingers run over the dried paint, this was obviously a patch he made himself.

“Only posers die.” You read with a smile, your thumb tracing over the rabbit silhouette at the bottom. “I love it.”

“Now you can have a little piece of me wherever you go.” He winks, pulling you back into his arms as he returns to his position behind you.

“You're acting like I'm not going to use my big scary dog privileges everywhere I go.” You giggle, squealing as Will nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, his beard tickling your skin.

“Oh, I'm your big scary dog, now am I?” He responds with a laugh, the emphasis on the fact that he was yours bringing a smile to his face. “Well, I’m glad to know that I make my little bunny feel safe.” You lean up, capturing his lips with your own before turning back to the task at hand

You slid your arms into the too big sleeves, the new denim still stiff from lack of wear. You stood in front of a full body mirror, smiling as you turned slowly, seeing all the patches and progress you and Will had made on your battle jacket in just one day. “Do you like it?” You bound over to him, your body thudding against his as you slip into his arms.

“I love it, thank you for all your help.” He cups your cheek gently, his thumb running over your warm skin.

“Bunny?” He asks softly. You hum in response, your eyes glimmering with happiness as you gazed up at him. “Would you like to stay another night?”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki @dij-ology @maria-moll

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claymoresword · 1 year

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I Choose Her | Chp: 14

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, y/n is lowkey service top, tooth rotting fluff, light angst

Note: gonna be honest not much at all happens in this one plot wise and it's definitely for selfish reasons lol i really just wanted to write a more fluffy chapter after all the angst in the last one...

there is tiny bit of smut in this so if you wish to skip it look out for the asterisks!

lastly, i do plan to get the next part out as soon as i can. i don't want you guys to have to wait several weeks again so keep a lookout for it! but as always, endless thanks for your patience and i hope you enjoy this one <3

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1

You stir awake to the feeling of a gentle hand against your chest.

"My love.." Hermione whispers into your ear, you soon feel her lips on your cheek.

You fail to open your eyes, merely let out a groan in response, earning a light chuckle from the Gryffindor.

"What time is it?" You ask, finally opening your eyes slightly to look at your girlfriend.

Hermione remains gazing at you fondly, her hand moves from your chest to your face, she begins trailing your features with her fingers as she answers your question.

"I think it's half past noon." Your girlfriend responds and you let out a breath of relief.

After another sleepless night you managed to slip into a dreamless slumber afterall, even if it was a few short hours, you are thankful for it regardless.

You shut your eyes again, for a few moments you simply laid still, enjoying the sensation of Hermione's careful fingers on your face, that is until a certain realization hits you.

"Wait, were you watching me sleep?" You ask, bemused, shifting your entire body to look at your girlfriend properly.

Hermione lets out a giggle at that, she sets her bottom lip in between her teeth.

"Maybe.." She admits with a shrug and you can't help the smirk playing on your lips as you catch her looking away sheepishly.

You reach up to slowly swipe your thumb across her mouth. Hermione stops biting her lip as her eyes now flit down to your own.

Hermione leans in suddenly, eagerly, as if she's entirely abandoned her intrinsic nature of repressing her urges, her lips meet yours with true want and passion. As Hermione kisses you time stops, you don't see, hear or feel anything besides her.

Your girlfriend eventually pulls away but you are far from finished. You held her in place by the collar as you continued trailing open mouthed kisses against her jaw before moving to her neck.

Hermione's breath catches in her throat as your tongue makes contact with her pulse point, you feel her reach down to grip your shirt, she clutches the fabric tightly as she tries to speak.

"The others are already having lunch in the kitchen, we should probably join them." Her voice trembles slightly and you have to force back a grin.

"Yes.. we should." You respond, leaning back to look at her. Hermione remains clutching your shirt in, her eyes remain fixed on your mouth in anticipation as you spoke.

"Or we could stay in bed.. I think we deserve to spend some time together, just the two of us" You add before leaning in to connect your lips again.

Hermione lets out a whimper at your sudden action and it only urges you on.

You finally sit up, guiding Hermione back to her side of the bed and she quickly takes the hint, properly laying her head on the pillow. As she does so you seize the opportunity to move on top of her, settling yourself in between her legs.

Your lips finally part but your face remains hovering over Hermione's. You always thought she looked the most beautiful like this, unguarded, content, staring up at you with nothing but affection.

Hermione smiles as she reaches up to thread her fingers through your hair, and you basically wilt under her touch instantaneously.

"I wish that you and I could just escape.. somewhere far away where no one would find us." Your girlfriend finally states and you lean down to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

You catch the desperation in her voice and it nearly shatters you.

"I wish for that too, my love." You reply, and Hermione has to avert her eyes again, this time for a different reason.

You both knew running away was not a possibility.

You also understood that this war was far from over, even though you felt like you've been on the run for an eternity. It was truly only just the beginning.

The incident at Malfoy Manor only made you realize just how entirely uncertain the future is; it weighs on each of you heavily.

On the other hand it also acts as a reminder for you to live everyday as if it were your last. You aim to appreciate every moment spent with Hermione, to take advantage of these times alone with her in any way that you can.

"Let's not think about it right now." You utter just above a whisper, with a finger underneath her chin you guide Hermione to look at you. Your face is inching closer, but you don't kiss her yet, you wait for her to meet you halfway; and she does.

Hermione seems to take your advice as she is quickly consumed by the feeling of your mouth against hers. She closes her eyes as she fully loses herself in the kiss. Your girlfriend focuses on your hands on her body, your breath mingling with her own.

The bed begins to shake slightly from the force of the kiss. Hermione lets out another noise of pleasure as your tongue moves against hers. With a hand on the back of your head the other girl pulls you in even closer, wanting to feel all of you.

In a moment of heated desperation you grab the hem of her shirt, tugging it upwards. Hermione lifts herself up slightly, allowing you to remove it from her body completely.

You aimlessly toss her shirt to the side before placing a quick peck on the corner of her mouth. You pull away to continue trailing kisses down her chest, another shiver runs through Hermione as she soon feels your tongue against the swell of her breast, goosebumps form on her skin as you continue your journey down until you reach her nipple.

A moan slips out of Hermione's lips, in both shock and pleasure as you take the sensitive bud into your mouth. You continue licking and sucking at it, your girlfriend's tight grip on your hair only makes you more eager to do the same to her other breast. This time you bite down on the flesh playfully before quickly soothing it with your tongue, you pull another whine from Hermione at the sensation.

She arches her back but you expertly pin her back down onto the mattress with a firm hand on her stomach, Hermione squirms underneath you as a result.

"Please.." Your girlfriend whispers and you merely smirk in response.

You don't entertain her with a proper reply, purposefully; you continue nipping at her skin, as you reach her navel, you bite down again, slightly harder this time before immediately soothing the mark with your tongue and Hermione groans.

"Y/n.." She repeats and you decide to finally acknowledge her plea.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You ask, feigning innocence, your face hovering over hers once more.

Hermione only makes a noise of disapproval at your response, one that sounds more like a sob than a whine, she squirms again but you distract her by kissing her deeply.

You soon feel her grabbing ahold of your free hand mid kiss, impatiently guiding it to the hem of her sweatpants, slipping it underneath her underwear.

"Please– touch me." Hermione begs, pushing your hand deep inside enough that your fingers make slight contact with her already dripping heat.

Your girlfriend's sheer desperation made you weak, you can feel how wet she already is; so you decided to cease torturing her.

You kiss her again, simultaneously, finally, swiping your fingers across her folds, you apply pressure against her clit with your thumb and Hermione has to stop kissing you as she chokes out a moan.

Your girlfriend grips the back of your neck as she moves her hips eagerly, trying to create more friction between your fingers and her core. Hermione is already a writhing mess, you observed as her chest raised and fell at a rapid rate, the sight manages to take your own breath away.

"I want your fingers inside." Hermione means it as an order but her voice trembles as she rolls her hips again.

You catch sight of your girlfriend's strained expression, almost like it physically pained her the longer you took to satisfy her needs.

You decide to set aside your initial plans to make her wait, soon tilting your head to bite down on the flesh of Hermione's neck as you enter two fingers inside her. The sound that erupts from Hermione's chest is loud, it is one of intense pleasure; and you are quickly addicted to it.

You pushed further in until you were knuckle deep, Hermione's mouth falls open as she throws her head back at the feeling. She maintains her firm grip on your neck, moving her other hand to your back, you can feel her fingernails digging into your flesh, even with the fabric of your shirt acting as a barrier, it is still painful. You groan in pain as you begin pumping in and out of her at a steady pace.

Your fingers manage to hit deep inside of her, with every movement Hermione gasps and moans grow louder and more frequent. She is closer to her peak than you initially thought, you notice her walls already contracting around your fingers.

Hermione arches her back again and this time you guide her body back down with your pelvis, holding her in place.

"Does that feel good?" You ask, your lips brushing against her ear, already knowing the answer, your aim was simply to tease her.

Hermione attempts to glare at you but as you continue skillfully pumping in and out her, she can only afford to nod. She lets out another moan, one you swallow just in time as you move your mouth against hers harshly.

Your girlfriend reciprocates, the kiss remains all tongue and open-mouthed as Hermione attempts to catch her breath.

"I love you–" She proclaims her love to you amidst her high and you can't help but smile down at her, your chest brimming with adoration.

"I love you too, my sweet girl." You respond, pumping your fingers even faster and deeper.

Hermione gasps again, her hand quickly leaves your back to grip the sheets underneath, and you can tell her release is just around the corner.

"You are just so beautiful." You praise, in genuine awe, and this manages to push Hermione over the edge as her orgasm hits her violently. You feel her walls squeezing painfully around your fingers as her entire body shakes underneath you, Hermione pulls you even closer, with a last ditch effort to muffle her own moans she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

Your girlfriend lets out a whimper as you slowly pull out of her, the aftershocks of her orgasm still making her tremble.

Moments pass and Hermione remains not speaking but she continues to hold you close, and you allow her to. You begin trailing kisses on her cheek and jaw, giving her all the time she needed to recover.

"I don't want to imagine a life without you." The first thing Hermione says once she's mustered enough energy to speak, now you can physically feel a pang in your chest.

You lift yourself up on your forearms slightly so you can properly look at her. Hermione's hair is now a mess, she looks spent from her orgasm, but she remains utterly breathtaking.

"Well you never have to worry about that because I'm not going anywhere." You respond, carefully smoothing down a few stray hairs on her head.

Your touch seemingly rattles something within her as you notice her eyes welling up with tears.

"Do you swear it?" Hermione asks, staring up at you expectantly and you sigh.

You both know now more than ever that promises are easily broken, you simply don't know which day will be your last. You can't exactly be certain that you will remain by your girlfriend's side, even though you desperately wanted to no matter what.

"Hermione–" You start but she interjects.

"Just promise that you won't leave me." Your girlfriend reiterates, and you recognized that she just needed to hear you say the words, for her own peace of mind.

"You are the reason I breathe, my love. You are my heart. Without you I am nothing." You finally admit earnestly and Hermione releases the breath she had been holding.

"I am not going anywhere."

You manage to catch a faint smile on Hermione's lips as she pulls you into a hug.

Most of your weight is now resting on top of her, but your girlfriend makes no sound of protest.

You continue embracing her for a moment longer until you hear a knock on the bedroom door.

"Ladies, we're having lunch out here.. if you care to join us."

You quickly recognize the voice coming from the other side to be Ron's oldest brother.

You tear your eyes away from the door to look at Hermione and the reality finally sets in that everyone sitting outside has probably been made privy to every noise between the two of you during your love making session.

Hermione's cheeks turn a dark shade of pink while she covers her face with her hands and you merely grin in amusement.

"We'll be right there!"

════════════════════════════════════════════

Hermione chose to settle on your lap once you were done having lunch, as it seems the events that took place at the Malfoy's affected her more than you initially realized.

Your girlfriend doesn't wish to be apart from you. As far as she is concerned you are the only reason she didn't get seriously injured. It is uncertain what Bellatrix would've continued to do to her if you hadn't intervened, and Hermione is endlessly grateful that you didn't give her the chance to find out.

Hermione continues mindlessly fiddling with your fingers as you rest your hand on your lap. Neither of you speak, simply enjoying being in each other's company.

The only noises are coming from the windchime by the door and the kitchen where Ron and his brother are cleaning the dishes.

Luna can be seen standing by the door admiring the view of the beach, she is the first to break the silence with actual words.

"It's beautiful here." Luna says.

You let out a chuckle.

Not one of mockery, quite the contrary; it is instead one of admiration. You admired her ability to find the beauty in the little things, considering the circumstances and even after everything she has been through.

Although you agreed, the cottage was beautiful, perhaps in a different situation you would be able to truly appreciate it, but you are certain, today without Hermione by your side, you wouldn't be able to find much beauty in anything.

You remain staring at the door where Luna stood, Hermione catches you deep in thought but she doesn't ask you about it. She reaches up to run her fingers through your hair and when you finally look at her, there's a shared regard. She feels safe in your arms, and you feel safer knowing that she doesn't plan to leave your side any more than necessary.

"This place belonged to our aunt." Bill responds, walking over to Luna once he was done washing the dishes.

Ron slips past him to take a seat opposite y/n and Hermione.

"We used to come here as kids, the Order uses it now as a safehouse–" He continues.

"What's left of it at least." Bill finishes and Luna doesn't respond but she gives him a faint nod in acknowledgement.

Silence hangs in the air once again, this time it is uncomfortable, everyone left with no choice but to feel. It is mainly anxiety, fear and exhaustion. Impending doom in every sense.

You instinctively pull Hermione closer, leaning your head against her chest. Your girlfriend reacts by rubbing at your back soothingly, before resting her chin on the top of your head.

You can hear Hermione's steady heartbeat as your ear pressed up against her chest and you find yourself silently hoping for time to stop.

Just for a while, so you could stay like this, so you can take a breath before being forced to face the inevitable.

As expected, time doesn't stop, instead you receive a rather grating response to such a wish when Harry emerges from the other room.

"We need to talk to the Goblin." He states, glancing at Ron, you and Hermione.

═══════════════════════════════════��════════

You enter the Goblin's room after Harry, immediately catching sight of Griphook sitting in an armchair by the window.

He is sitting still with his eyes shut, the sight is almost eerie, for some reason you feel compelled to intertwine your fingers with Hermione's. Your girlfriend seems glad at the gesture, she holds onto your hand firmly as she settles next to you. Ron remains next to her by the now closed door.

"How are you?" Harry breaks the silence, approaching the Goblin, and Griphook finally opens his eyes.

"Alive." He responds simply and Harry nods in understanding, making his way to the window next to him before speaking again.

Your eyes follow his movements, your gaze naturally falls on the sword propped up in the corner. It manages to also catch Harry's attention, but he fails to acknowledge it.

"You probably don't remember–" Harry starts but the Goblin quickly finishes his thought for him.

"That I showed you to your vault the first time you came to Gringotts?" Griphook states.

"Even amongst Goblins you are famous.. Harry Potter."

Harry fails to react to his comment, he merely glances out the window.

"You buried the elf?" Griphook asks and the dark haired man nods.

"Yes." Harry answers, his tone purposeful as to not appear solemn.

He keeps his eye contact with the Goblin again.

"And brought me here." Griphook states the obvious.

"You are a very unusual wizard." He adds and

Harry averts his eyes again, to look at the sword, this time, it doesn't go unnoticed by the Goblin.

"How did you come by this sword?" Griphook asks, gesturing to the Gryffindor relic.

"It's complicated." Harry decides to respond vaguely, harboring a mistrust that you incidentally shared.

"Why did Bellatrix Lestrange think it should've been in her vault at Gringotts?" The chosen one tries but Griphook is not so easily deceived.

"It's complicated." Griphook retaliates and Harry glances at you instinctively, almost wordlessly asking for your permission to disclose the truth to the Goblin.

You give him a subtle nod in response as Hermione shuffles closer to you.

"Y/n was led to the sword in a time of need. We didn't steal it." Harry finally admits decisively.

Griphook looks over at you, he nearly appears amused.

"There is a sword in Madam Lestrange's vault identical to this one but it is a fake. It was placed there last summer." The Goblin explains.

You and Hermione share a knowing look, your suspicions proven right. You both already understood Snape had something to do with it.

"And she never suspected it was a fake?" Harry asks.

"The replica is very convincing. Only a Goblin would recognize that this was the true sword of Gryffindor." Griphook claims.

"Who's the acquaintance?" Hermione asks the question simply to satisfy her suspicions, for the both of you already knew the answer.

"A Hogwarts professor–" The Goblin starts.

"Snape." You interject and Griphook nods.

"As I understand it he's now Headmaster." The Goblin finishes and this time the four of you share a look.

"Snape? He put a fake sword in Bellatrix's vault, why?" Ron asks the question you and Hermione have spent countless hours in the past trying to answer.

"There are curious things at the vaults in Gringotts." Griphook responds ominously and Harry glances at you again as an idea dawns on him.

"And in Madam Lestrange's vault, as well?" He asks and the Goblin takes a beat to respond.

"Perhaps.." He finally says.

"I need to get into Gringotts, into one of the vaults." Harry starts.

"This is impossible." Griphook was quick to shut the idea down.

"Alone, yes. but with you– no." The dark haired man quips and Griphook pauses again, as if weighing his options.

"Why should I help you?" The Goblin finally asks.

"I have gold. Lots of it." Harry replies, Griphook shakes his head.

"I have no interest in gold." He states.

"Then what?" Harry asks, there is a pause before Griphook points to the sword and you let out a deep sigh.

"That. That is my prize."

The Goblin was certainly not foolish, he was dealing his cards cleverly.

Harry looks between you and Hermione, the both of you shake your head in disagreement, but the chosen one fails to listen to your advice this time.

"Fine."

════════════════════════════════════════════

"Are you certain there's a Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault?" Hermione whispers to you as you step out of the room.

You nod, however, before you can properly respond, Harry does it for you.

"She was terrified when she thought we were in there, she kept asking what else you had taken." The dark haired boy says.

"I know there's a Hocrux in her vault– there has to be." You add with certainty.

"Let's find it and kill it and then we'll be one step closer to killing him." Harry states but Ron isn't convinced.

"And what happens if we find it? How are we supposed to destroy it now that you've given the sword to Griphook?" Ron poses a good question, one none of you could answer.

"I'm still working on that part." Harry responds with the truth.

He aims to speak again but the door opening behind him stops him from doing so.

Ron's sister in law soon emerges from the doorway, staring down at the four of you.

"He's weak." Fluer states, referring to Mr Olivander.

Harry does hesitate, but only for a beat. He enters the room anyway and the three of you follow suit.

The older man is sitting in a chair by the bed, Harry has seemingly interrupted him, appearing to be deep in thought, staring into space.

You enter the room last, shutting the door behind you.

"Mr Olivander, I need to ask you a few questions." Harry asks timidly unsure if he should approach.

"Anything, my boy, anything." The wandmaker replies and Harry takes it as an invitation to take a seat next to him on the bed.

"Would you mind identifying this wand? We need to know if it's safe to use." Harry hands Olivander the wand.

The wandmaker begins inspecting it carefully, the four of you observe him with bated breath.

"Walnut. Dragon Heartstring. Twelve and three quarter inches.." The older man finally voices.

"Unyielding." He adds, as he hands the wand back to Harry.

"This belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange. Treat it carefully." The older man whispers, as if afraid the now deceased witch would be able to hear him if he dared speak any louder.

You adjust your weight from one foot to the other, shifting uncomfortably. Hermione manages to notice, feeling a similar unease herself, she makes the effort to guide your arm, snaking it around her waist as she steps closer towards you. You squeeze her side in unspoken gratitude, holding her close.

"And this?" Harry asks, pulling another wand out of his pocket.

Mr Olivander reaches out to grab it and you recognize it immediately.

"Hawthrone. Unicorn Hair. Ten inches. Reasonably pliant." The wandmaker lists out the wand's characteristics.

"That's Draco's wand." You state out loud, but the man doesn't respond, he holds up the wand to his ear, listening for something.

"This was the wand of Draco Malfoy." Olivander states and you are immediately perplexed by his choice of words.

"Was? Is it not still?" Harry asks the question you were pondering yourself.

"Perhaps not, if you won it from him." The wandmaker states and your forehead creased in further confusion.

"I sense its allegiance has changed." Olivander states simply, returning the wand to Harry.

"Sir, what does that mean exactly?" You ask, stepping forward, releasing Hermione from your grip.

The wandmaker looks up at you, a kind smile playing on his lips.

"The wand chooses the wizard, y/n."

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #ron x hermione #harry x hermione

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anadiasmount · 7 months

Note

Hi love! I love your blog and your scenarios. You are a very talented writer.

I was wondering if you can write a story when the reader it's Jude's best friend and she is a little to drunk. She can't stop saying to Jude how amazing, big and soft his lips are (because omg Jude's lips). And idk if they kiss it's up to you how the story goes.

kisses xx

hi lovely!! tysm!! it means a lot 🫂🤍

“oh my gofh, i’m soooooo drunk,” you slurred laughing a bit. your eyes where half way closed barely holding onto jude who carried you bridal style since you couldn’t even stand. “i’m so gonna regret this tomorrow jude, i’m calling it right noew,” jude chuckled leaning his head on yours that rested in the crook of his neck.

“i tried to stop you but you had a mission, i’ll take care of you,” jude promised setting you down as he fidgeted to grab his keys and open the door. “why did you get so drunk? hmm?” he asked wonderingly. the whole night you drank, danced, laughed, and even almost fought someone because they pushed you.

“if i told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” you giggled failing to properly put your finger against your lips, instead by the corner of your mouth. jude picked you back up and walked into the house, he set you down on the small bench leaning down onto one knee to remove your heals.

“i know what you’re trying to do, don’t act like i don’t. i might not be in my five senses but i can’t tell you this secret,” you hummed in delight, a sense of pride waving in for not telling him, even if you wouldn’t remember it the next morning. “why can’t you tell me this secret hm? how big of a secret is it?” jude teased, walking you slowly upstairs to his bedroom and then bathroom.

“it’s a fbi secret. if my friends found out i told you i wouldn’t hear the end of it,” he heard you giggling and then hiccup. “if i told you i’m scared the next morning it’s going to be awkward and we’re not going to be friends anymore,” you slur and pout looking into jude’s brown eyes boring into yours. even when drunk he didn’t fail making you shy and intimidated by his handsomeness.

“and why’s that?”

“because i love you so so so so much,” you express, leaning up to wrap your hands around his fitted shoulders. “i love your eyes,” you touch his lashes feeling them flutter, “i love your nose,” you poke it another giggle escaping your lips, “i love your curls,” you twist a single coil in your index finger jude chuckling nervously.

“i love your lips so much! they’re just so plump, juicy, and so soft,” you whine, your thumb running along his lips slowly, your eyes entranced by the small lines and shape of them. “if you were mine i’d kiss you all the time,” you taunt him even more without knowing, jude’s heart racing at your confession.

you shake your head no, jude feeling the coldness return where your arms were once wrapped, “what am i saying! y/n behave. remember he doesn’t feel the same way,” you reminded yourself loudly. “what do you mean pretty girl?” jude asked squinting his eyes ever so slightly as his hand stroked your cheek.

“that you don’t feel the same way i do… love wise… you see jude i like you but not as a friend, as in something more you know? like anytime i’m around you i never want to leave because you make me so happy. when i’m with you it seems like you’re the only person i want to spend the rest of my life with,” you frown, tears stinging the inner corners of your eyes.

“i don’t think you love me the way i love you jude.”

“how can you be so sure of that hmm?” jude says, taking out some of the makeup melting bomb you had to remove it, stroking away the aftermath with a gentle and clean towel, doing some of your skincare for you as you sat there with your eyes closed. “i’m sure so sure if it jude. you don’t look at me the way you do with other girls…”

“that’s because the only girl i want to look at for the rest of my life is you darling,” he stopped his movements urging you to look at him. “whether you remember tomorrow or not, i want you to know that we share the same secret. that we love each other but not in a friend way. as in i wanna spend my life time with you,” jude confessed.

you squeal, kicking your legs excitedly as you heard him, not caring if he hadn’t completely spread the moisturizer on your face. “do you really mean it jude?” you attempt to ask him seriously, with a brow raised and arms crossed against your chest. “i’m not lying to you. i really do mean it,” jude leaned down a placed a feather like kiss on the inner corner of your mouth.

“let me finish here and we can cuddle okay?” he stated, making you nod and go quiet after a long night of chattering away. “okay but i want to wear one of your shirts. they’re just so comfy and so soft. like your lips. HEY! did i mention how much i love your lips? they look soft as clouds,” you yapped.

jude laid in bed, giving you a minute of privacy to change and brush your teeth. he couldn’t stop thinking about your admittance to him, the way you poured your heart and feelings out. he’s dealt with you drunk but it wasn’t compared to tonight. all he could think about was if you could remember the next morning and about finally making you his.

you practically sprinted almost tripping toward the bed. you cuddled into his warm embrace placing small kisses on his bare chest and neck. “goodnight judey, i love you handsome,” he heard you say cheekily, forever wanting to hear you say it everyday for the rest of your lives. “i love you too pretty girl. sleep. a morning of headaches is awaiting for you.”

the next morning, you slurred in your sleep, squinting your eyes and looking around to see you were in jude’s bed. your head came up from his neck, jude fast asleep snoring very quietly, a hand on your waist as the other one was placed next to him. you were infatuated with how he looked, evening in the morning and asleep he looked so handsome.

you remembered last nights events surprisingly. wanting to slap yourself for not being able to tell him sooner how you felt, it would’ve saved you this whole embarrassment and hangover. jude slurred in his sleep, eyes fluttering as he woke up, his eyes slightly puffy and red from his sleep. he smiled down at you, dimples popping out as he leaned his head back onto the pillows chucking deep. “i take it as you don’t remember anything?”

“nope. in fact i remember everything, handsome.”

“do you now? how’s the hangover?”

“could be worse, but you could kiss me to take the pain away?” you say leaning up, lips dangerously close to his, tucking your hair back so it wouldn’t fall on his face. “with pleasure,” he sat up, taking your legs and spreading them so you could sit on his lap properly, as his lips connected with yours. you moaned in delight, a hand coming to the back of his head to pull him closer. jude slip his hands under your shirt, feeling your still warm skin underneath his fingertips.

you didn’t care about anything. not even if you hadn’t brushed your teeth. all you cared and could focus on was the way he devoured you, holding you close to his chest almost afraid to let go off you. how his lips smashes with yours, teeth clashing, his warm tongue tracing your bottom lip before kissing you deeply once again.

“kiss me. just kiss me forever jude.”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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leclsrc · 2 years

Text

a certain romance ✴︎ cs55

genre: fluff!, humor

word count: 4.5k

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

notes... reader is a leclerc, one sexual allusion but it’s not bad, french that is basically translatable thru context clues

auds here... req’d, sort of twice! was gonna make this a full fledged fic but i went with the short route to keep it brief. i hope u like this anon/s :) title from a song of the same name by the arctic monkeys. also there is use of y/n which i generally don’t like using in fics bec i feel it disrupts the flow, but it wouldn’t have fit any other way so. must b all... enjoy!

If you told Carlos Sainz that he—a full grown, mature, twenty-eight-year-old man—would be tiptoeing on the balcony of a hotel in Monaco (shirtless and fully terrified, no less) eight months from now, he would laugh at you. But he’d be doing so anyway, fearing something in the room behind him rather than the alarmingly high distance he’d be possessing over the road below. He’d inhale, exhale, recites a few proverbs to keep himself calm. But now, if you told him, he would mumble something along the lines of estúpido, because really, how the hell would he get himself into that situation?

Don’t worry. He’s going to find out.

“I’m not really looking to date,” he says wisely, taking another swig of his beer. “I think racing is the number one thing on my mind. And it’s difficult to maintain a balance of both.”

Lando clears his throat, tipsy from having exhausted his drinks and then some. “Mate, quit being a pessimist. You Spaniards, I swear. That’s not necessarily true. I made it work.” He presents two thumbs, pointing them toward his beaming, dopey face.

Carlos stares. “Luisa broke up with you.”

“Right then, you arse, twist the knife,” Lando mutters exasperatedly, his thumbs drooping down and his smile dropping. Carlos can’t help but throw his head back in amusement, eking out apologies in between bouts of laughter. The younger just mocks the laugh, finishing the beer he’d been drinking.

The two are on the balcony of Lando’s flat, overlooking the expanse of Chelsea. The subject of girlfriends and looking for love had been between them for a while now, seeing as they were both single; they’d often greet each other with a Got a girlfriend yet, cabrón? And, while the conversation was generally harmless, it did tend to push Carlos into a state of introspection regarding his own love life.

“But honestly, really.” Carlos says. “I just don’t know if a girl is what I need right now. Unless somebody perfect drops on my lap.”

“I’m going to ignore how pervy that sounds—but I get it. I guess the career thing’s just the priority, huh, mate? And speaking of career”—Lando rifles through his jacket pocket and fishes his phone out—“we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t leave in the next fifteen.”

Ah, dinner: the only reason Carlos had chartered a jet to London earlier today in the first place. Proposed out of sheer fun and then carrying on because it actually seemed like a doable idea, Lando had texted a few drivers and invited them and however-many-pluses they wished to bring to an upscale restaurant in the city as a way to get in touch.

It didn’t seem ideal, until they realized that 1. Lando, George, and Alex were already in London, and 2. Charles was with family and had a meeting there, too, and—well, at that point Carlos had basically succumbed to peer pressure and gotten on a jet straight to the UK. Lando always had a penchant for making these plans and spending the entire time making dirty jokes and/or getting tipsy and/or using his camera to take pictures of any and everyone, which really just made the dinners all the more fun.

They clean up the bottles of beer they’d drank from, and Carlos pulls his coat on by the door, still unused to the overcast British weather. “Who’s there later?”

“The boys, Arthur… Lily, Carmen. I think. I mean nobody brought their mums or whatever. That’s all of ‘em, I suppose.” Lando inspects his outfit in the mirror by the entryway and swaps out his jacket for a different one, ushering Carlos out the door and into the waiting car. Something about I’d rather be driven around than drive a pretentious sports car around the city looking like a daft prick.

They’re halfway to the restaurant, both on their phones, when Lando suddenly gasps softly and goes, “Right, and Charles’ sister is going too.”

Carlos looks up, interest piqued. He hadn’t heard much of Charles’ sister before—you’d dropped by a few races, and had always been present for the entirety of the Monaco weekend, but you weren’t engaged in racing as much as Charles’ other siblings. He’d shaken hands with you and made the polite, necessary, albeit totally rushed small talk. “Y/N,” he recounts. “Right?”

“Yessir,” Lando says, letting Drake filter through the AUX of the car. “The one in law school.”

He nods, trying to pick out specific memories. None really come to mind—it’s all introductions that repeat themselves. Hi, Carlos Sainz, Charles’ teammate. Oh, hi, I’m Charles’ sister. He faintly recounts finding you pretty, but having not seen you at the paddock for quite a while, he considers his memories dubious at best. He leans back and listens to Lando rap Rich Flex with an obnoxiously posh accent instead, and figures if he dies now, at least he wouldn’t have to keep hearing this.

The restaurant is nearer than they anticipate, so the Drake rap-along session is cut blissfully short, the pair being ushered into the private seating area, coats taken and wine served. They join George, who, at his insistence, had made the reservation in the first place even if Lando had suggested the restaurant, and Carmen.

“Charles and Albon?” Carlos asks when he takes a seat, greeting the couple.

“Charles and Arthur are on their way, but Alex is stuck in Harrods with Lily and Y/N. They got busy looking for shoes or something. Poor guy,” George says, half-laughing.

“I so wish I met up with the girls beforehand,” Carmen mopes, “the sale at Harrods is amazing.”

The conversation descends into a multitude of different topics, as they always do when Lando and George lead the way—racing (obviously), Carmen, Daniel Ricciardo even, dogs, any plans of adopting dogs, and then, because George Russell is a little shit, he says: “Feels nice being the only guy with a girlfriend at the table right now, innit?”

Carmen pinches his arm but he persists with a smile. “No, but really. You two are just about the most eligible bachelors ever and still single. What gives?”

“I for one am not into monogamy at the moment,” Lando says matter-of-factly. “I’m twenty-three, mate. I’m trying to have fun. But Mr. Almost Thirty here is a different case.”

“Ay,” Carlos gripes. “It’s not an involuntary thing. Just want to focus on racing.”

He prays then for this topic to come to a close so he won’t have to explain himself all over again, and reprieve comes in the form of Charles and Arthur entering the room. Already Charles is talking, before he even takes a seat, and Arthur is nodding along—something about how London traffic sucks, how are your streets so small, mate, oh my God Harrods is so full, Lily and Y/N have been at it for hours, poor Alex, he volunteered to stay. The guy spouts words quickly and easily, in an accent that sounds both English and French.

The rest of the wait time happens fast—Lily and Alex rush through the entrance, apologizing for being late. The lines are so long, Lily explains, taking a seat and leaving the other side empty. When her boyfriend tries to sit there, she swats him away, goes, babe, no, that’s for Y/N. So her boyfriend sits woefully across her and beside Carlos instead.

“Where is Y/N?” Charles asks. Carlos is also curious, albeit inwardly. He didn’t even know you were arriving until late, and still he hasn’t seen your face.

“Sorry, I had to check something with the valet,” a voice goes, and then you’re sliding into the seat across him.

The thing is, Carlos has been stunned before.

It’s sort of a non-negotiable when you go into such a demanding, high-risk sport. If he’s careening into another car, or the side of a circuit—obviously, it stuns him. Everything spins into slow motion for a few nerve-wracking seconds. But he’s also been stunned in all the good ways: when he can tell he’s in the lead, when he overtakes the car in front of him, when he bounds past the flag and realizes it’s a podium finish. So, yes—Carlos is fully familiar with the gut churning, belly spinning delirium of being stunned. So familiar, in fact, that he’s grown familiar with it, developed a second skin for it, welcomed it with open arms.

Which also explains the way he sees you laughing quietly at something Lily says and subsequently realizes, with apprehension and dread, that he is stunned.

—

The first time it happens is after the dinner—not just the dinner, but the drinks and the London walk that followed, accompanied by three noisy and drunk tour guides (read: Lando, George, Alex). Charles and Arthur, almost as drunk, follow the tour with loud jabs of their own, and Lily and Carmen are filming everything on their phones. You’ve been on your phone checking an email, and Carlos takes a call from his cousin, which naturally leads both you and him to trail behind the group.

So, when you’re both done taking calls and checking emails, it’s the two of you left to your own devices. You swing within the awkward few moments of deciding whether to rejoin the group or just keep trailing behind, your shoes clicking softly against the cobblestone pavement, accompaniments to Lando’s loud singing of Piano Man.

“What’d you think of the wine?” You ask, your accent sliding easy into the syllables but not losing its distinctiveness.

He pretends to ponder, even if he’d given Lando a full-scale review when they first left the restaurant, and turns back to you. “It was okay. A bit too sweet for my taste.”

“Exactly! That’s what I told Arthur, but he found it perfect. I guess kids these days just don’t have taste.”

You both laugh at your sarcastic use of “kids”, knowing you’re just two years older than your younger brother. Carlos opens his mouth to speak, trying to find footing, the perfect suave thing to say to possibly land himself in a position to flirt.

Right then, Lando reaches the crescendo of Somebody to Love (he can’t ever finish a song), and then Charles is turning around to find you and Carlos engaged in conversation. His lips stretch into a mischievous smile.

“Aye, Carlos! Back off the baby sister, mate!” He slurs, clapping Arthur on the back to catch his attention.

Arthur’s eyes narrow playfully, darting in between you both. Carlos just raises a middle finger in response, sending the brothers into unnecessarily extensive bouts of laughter. You roll your eyes, blowing a raspberry. “Putain. These fucking shitheads never leave me alone.”

George is in the middle of teaching Charles to say sod off instead of back off when Carlos purses his lips and, on a whim, turns and goes: “Is there a rule against dating drivers?”

You try and fail to hide a smile. “Hmm. None, I don’t think.”

Silence. Then you speak again, coy. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Carlos says. London is suddenly a place of magic. “No reason at all.”

—

It’s at an afterparty, the second time it happens—and technically the first where you and Carlos actually connect properly. In hindsight, it might’ve been stupid to flirt with him in the middle of the dance floor—something he thankfully realized in the moment, taking your hand and guiding you through the throng of people into the back exit.

Nobody said first kisses had to be remarkable in the romantic sense. Sometimes they’re in seedy European alleyways, with a fist bunched into his polo and a hand on your hip. It had to happen this way, because how else would two months of beating around the bush culminate? Because even if you’re drunk, you can’t stop thinking about how much you want to kiss him again. Tomorrow morning. And the next.

You pull away, but he speaks first, voice rushed and semi-sobered. “Let’s not.”

Humming, you try to swallow the lump of distress in your throat. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, nervous now, gulping. “Because—of the bro code.”

You stare. “Is that a Spanish thing?”

“B-ro c-ode,” he says again, enunciating the syllables; the Spanish accent doesn’t go away, and neither do his hands, hot and big on your hip and waist.

You move your hand from where it’s fisted into his shirt, cupping his neck. Then you burst out laughing, much to Carlos’ confusion. “That is so not a thing,” you press, unconvinced.

“It is. Bro code. I just crossed that line, dios mio,” he says, clearly way more stressed than you are.

“Bro code isn’t upheld for boys over twenty-one,” you say haughtily. Right then, you hear Arthur’s voice through the door and it swings open a few seconds later. In the span of those moments, you shove Carlos away nervously and attempt to look like you weren’t doing anything.

Arthur’s on the phone, speaking in quick French when he sees you and Carlos at a respectable distance. He tilts the phone away, mouths What’s up?, pointing at the both of you.

“I felt like vomiting and he was nearby,” you reply, nodding. He’s out of view, exiting the alleyway within seconds and back on the phone.

You exhale, and turn back to him. “Okay, so maybe the bro code is a thing.”

He looks at you as if to say no shit. “I don’t think we should do this,” he says, but his tone betrays himself.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

“Right, yes.”

A beat. “Can you kiss me again?”

—

Against all odds, you and Carlos had managed to successfully start dating under your brothers’—ergo the majority of your mutual circle’s—noses. You’d only let it slip to a few close friends and family, and in Carlos’ case, Lando, because Lord knows the guy could not keep his mouth shut for the life of him. And even if it was stressful, and it often felt like any moment would be interrupted by somebody catching the both of you on the phone, or even together, neither of you could deny how good it was.

It’s five months later—five months of pure bliss, for the most part. Save for multiple close calls, you and Carlos had enjoyed each other’s company. You’d tried to navigate how everything would work once you realized you both wanted something more out of the relationship, but neither of you wanted to deal with the hassle of your overprotective siblings yet. You’d resorted to hours of FaceTime, everyday texts, and if the world was on your side, the occasional date.

The last method is easily your favorite, you both—and when the drivers get three weeks off and Carlos spends it in Las Vegas, that’s how it happens, the third time. Carlos visits you at your hotel, relishing in the eleven-thirty emptiness of the communal area, swimming in the jacuzzi and giggling about something into Carlos’ neck. You barely remember the joke; you’re honestly just welling up with enthusiasm and an endless supply of laughs that your boyfriend is finally with you.

Your head is still dug into Carlos’ neck, laughing about something else now, when you hear faraway footsteps. Having grown used to being a pseudo-patrolman, your eyes dart up immediately, and your stomach drops when you see, seriously, of all fucking people—Charles and Arthur.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, dumbfounded. A hand wet with jacuzzi water taps frantically on your phone; sure enough, you’d gotten texts from the both of them about dropping by your hotel for drinks. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

You disembark from your position on your boyfriend’s lap, hoping the hickey he sucked onto your neck won’t be visible from meters away. Your eyes shoot up again, and they still haven’t spotted you. Holding your breath and bracing yourself, you turn to Carlos, place two hands on his shoulders, and shove him underneath the water.

They spot you then, waving enthusiastically. “Drinks!” Arthur shouts, mimicking a beer bottle with his hand. You chew your lip nervously, raising one hand and waving back.

“Don’t wait up and I’ll just meet you at the bar!” You holler, watching as they pass through the entrance at a truly leisurely pace.

Once they’re in, you haul your boyfriend up and he breathes deeply, anxious. “Puta madre.”

“I think we should tell them soon. I don’t want you literally dying just for the sake of keeping us a secret,” you say, maintaining a safe distance and constantly turning toward the entrance just in case. You reach for his hand underwater.

“It’s thrilling, actually,” he winks.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bother.” You say woefully, guilt eating at you a little bit. But he takes your hand, squeezes it among the jacuzzi bubbles.

“Nothing’s a bother with you.”

—

Charles knocks on your Monza hotel room door when it happens the fourth time, opening it once he finds it unlocked—and then freezing when he finds you buried in your duvet ’til your shoulders. You’re in your silk pajama top, arms and mouth outstretched into a yawn when your eyes meet, hair disheveled. You blink.

“Charles.” You say confusedly, letting your arms drop. “Tu vas bien?”

“Mmm, ça va.” He pauses. “Et toi?”

“Moi aussi,” you say casually. “Any reason you came into my room without waiting for me to answer the damn door?”

He smiles, as if remembering why he invaded your privacy. “Right, I came in here to ask if you’ve seen Arthur.”

“I’m clearly by myself in bed, so no,” you respond cuttingly. “Last I checked he was walking around with Lando.” The two had become fast friends after the London dinner.

Your elder brother hums, then moves to take a seat on your bed, to which you quickly reach over, grab a complimentary soap bar (on the bedside table and not the shower, which you’d found weird), and toss it square at his face. “Ah—ay! What the fuck?”

“Don’t come near me,” you say. “I’m sick.”

“Sick? What rubbish. You were literally at the paddock hours ago totally fine.”

“Don’t be daft. Not that kind of sick, you arse—”

“Not that kind of sick,” he mocks, exaggerating his accent and raising his voice a few octaves to sound like a silly version of you. He raises an accusatory finger. “You lie, you lie!”

“I am not lying,” you insist irritably, sitting up a little and cocking your brow. “Tu es insupportable!”

You slide into a flurry of angry French and Italian in your valiant efforts to defend your innocence, and Charles is infected into doing the same. Eventually the room is just filled with indistinguishable insults and scoffed phrases of merde, ah bon?, and immensely accented What thuh helliz your problem?s. You even chuck another hotel soap at him for extra measure, but he manages to catch it this time. It’s childish, like many of your petty fights born out of irritance.

“I’m on my period, you prick,” you say as a last resort, once the insults have run their sufficient course. “I couldn’t be arsed to find Arthur.” His eyes narrow, doubting you, but ultimately he admits defeat, walking back to the door to exit your room. The door’s out of view of your bed, so you brace yourself, waiting for it to open and click closed.

“You better not be harboring a fugitive in here!” He says, but only half of here is heard before the door clicks shut and drowns him out. The tension leaves your body and you heave a deep sigh, relaxing backwards and biting your lip.

The thick silk duvet flips upward and Carlos surfaces, face flushed from being in hiding for so long.

One arm is still curled around your thigh, the inner part of which is rubbed raw from his facial hair being against it. You stare at one another with dopey smiles on your faces, relieved that you’d managed to act fast and flip the huge blanket over Carlos—although he had conveniently been in that position to begin with.

“Do either of you ever shut up?”

“One more word and I’m kicking you,” you say, reaching an arm out to stroke his jaw. You smile, laughing a little. “I’m not bluffing.”

“Scary, princesa,” he teases, hauling himself up to press a lasting kiss onto your lips. You smile into it, out of relief that your nosy elder brother didn’t catch you, but also out of the way your heart swells when Carlos smiles.

—

“You’re absolutely sure it’s the right room number?”

“100% positive. 613, Y/N Leclerc.”

“And not any other Leclerc.”

“Mate, I just said Y/N. Get a grip,” Lando scoffs. “My investigative skills pay off. Still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just asked her yourself, seeing as though you two are, I dunno, dating.”

“It’s a surprise, man,” Carlos says cuttingly, facing the lobby of the Hôtel de Paris. “Alright, thanks, cábron. I’ll see you soon.”

“Get some!” The Brit whoops, and then Carlos is taking the elevator to your room.

He didn’t think of himself as much of a surprises guy, but then again—he didn’t think of himself as much as a flowers and teddy bear guy, but he’d gotten you those every month since you became official; he didn’t think of himself as much of a physical touch guy, but he was always the one initiating hugs and cuddle sessions. The list goes on.

He knocks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Much to his relief, it really is you who answers, with the face of surprise he wanted out of this. Before you utter a word, he’s dipping down to kiss you, and you find yourself returning the kiss, knowing you’d lost your boyfriend’s presence for so long. It quickens fast, and Carlos wedges himself in, kicking the door closed behind him.

You pull away. “Wait, I—”

He kisses you again, and you can’t resist, laughing at his persistence. He pulls away to tug his shirt off, and that’s when you crash back to reality. “Mmmm—Carlos, this isn’t my room!”

Everything happens fast after that.

The door starts opening and Carlos hears Charles on the other side of it, talking about there was a room mix-up, Y/N, this is mine and 615 is yours—he misses the rest of the sentence, clutching his singlet to his bare chest and allowing himself to be pushed by his girlfriend out the door of the balcony. Thinking he’s safe if just for a moment, he turns, but finds he still sees the room—the curtains don't cover him enough.

And if he can see the room, he figures, the room can see him. And if the room can see him, Charles will see him when he’s fully inside.

You’re gesticulating wildly with your hands, trying to find a way to distract your brother, turning away from Carlos briefly to maybe just accept your fate. Charles shuts the door, facing you and, consequently, the balcony doors. Your heart seizes. Surely, Carlos must be there—there’s no other place left for him to hide, unless he miraculously fit his blocky, broad frame behind a random potted plant.

“Something wrong?” Charles says, and you whip around. The balcony’s blissfully empty.

“N…othing.” You say. “Nothing.”

“D’accord,” he says promptly. “So. Dinner?”

Your head spins, unable to formulate a reply. Where could Carlos have hidden?

The balcony is a bit wide, but the entirety of it is visible, and, well—Carlos is clearly not. There’s one lawn sofa, and one plant, neither of which seem to harbor your favorite Spaniard, so where the fuck is he? Because of course, he’s not stupid. Surely. He’s twenty-eight, you think.

What kind of guy would climb onto the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother?

Carlos cannot believe he’s on the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother.

In the scurry of it, he hadn’t even gotten properly dressed. So here he is, braving the frigid sixth-floor air and the harrowing height at which he stands, brandishing his shirt like it’s a flag and standing like he’s on a podium. He feels like he’s about to die for love. Like some Shakespearean hero.

But when he digs deep he figures he doesn’t actually mind at all. Sure, he feels like he’s on the brink of death, but he realizes it’s for you in the end, and that comforts him. He never thought he’d do this, ever, not even if he was paid, or bet on, or for a Real Madrid win. He leans back and ignores the asphalt below. He’ll stay here as long as he needs to.

“Mate, get down from there.” Carlos looks up to see Charles and Arthur going absolutely mental, even taking a few photos for good measure. Relieved, scared, and just glad his stint on the banister is over, he climbs off and pulls his shirt back on, crossing his arms. He spots you inside, smiling but also insisting they delete the incriminating evidence.

In the end, seriously? This is the reaction you and he hid from for eight months? You walk over to place yourself beside Carlos, watching your brothers. Two fools laughing at everything, each other, their sister, and her boyfriend. “Jig is up,” Charles says. “But we’ve known since you two kissed outside that club.”

You roll your eyes; clearly, you’ve already been told this information. But Carlos is slack-jawed with shock—they did all that on purpose. How fucking cheeky, really. He figures they gave Lando the wrong room number through the grapevine, too.

“But,” Charles says, wiping real tears from his eyes, “I know you love my sister, mate, so I’ll be the first to say I approve. Arthur will be the second.”

“I approve,” says Arthur dumbly.

“We approve,” they say in unison, then they’re laughing all over again. You swat both of their arms in retaliation, which causes the teasing to subside.

“Now, cábron,” Charles says gleefully, “we do have a couple of questions for you…”

You squeeze his hand. Even if he prefers the banister, your presence is comforting all the same, and he’d answer any totally unnecessary, pointless, silly question from your brothers if it means he gets to hug you again later. If you told him eight months ago he’d be this in love, he would’ve laughed in your face. But here he is anyway.

It’s comforting.

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