#so i decided to explain what i think could happen

[mythicalmaven]

(I used a screenshot of the original request in here, because I wans't able to reply to the original request anymore, whoops)

Here it finally is! Please let me know what you thought of it :) Requests are open btw! Feel free to request anything :) I'm considering to do kinktober as well this year, so leave your requests for that as well :)

Supposed To Be Mine - Charles Leclerc (ONESHOT)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader ↳word count: 4.9K ↳warnings: friends to lovers, jealous!sex, jealousy, (minor) possessiveness, jealous Charles, smut, 18+(MDNI!), handjob (m!receiving), pinv ↳summary: In which Oscar wins the Azerbaijan GP & Charles gets jealous because their mutual friend decides to celebrate with Oscar& not him (or so he thinks). This results in pent up emotions, a heated argument & of course, jealous sex

It was Sunday, September 15th when you found yourself making your way through the paddock. The sun was shining bright and the atmosphere was making you feel ecstatic. You, a familiar face on the grid, had been here to support your friends. While you usually worked as a member of the F1 TV team during Grand Prix, this weekend you were off duty, free to fully enjoy the festivities of the Grand Prix.

Over the years, you'd built strong friendships with most of the grid, but there were three drivers you were particularly close to: Oscar, Charles, and Alex. Each friendship had grown naturally, but in distinct ways.

Alex was the one who felt like a brother from the start. You clicked immediately, sharing the same dry humor, hobbies, and an undeniable love for animals. He was always there for you—whether it was picking you up from the club after too many drinks or cheering you up when your heart got broken again. If there was one word to describe your bond, it was siblings.

Then there was Oscar, your roommate. He ticked all the boxes for the perfect best friend. Your friendship took time to blossom, but once it did, you both quickly realized how well you fit together, purely platonically. The thought of taking it further had never crossed your minds—it just wasn’t like that. After moving to Monaco, you’d struggled to find an apartment, so Oscar offered you a place to stay. A year later, you were still living together because, honestly, it was too much fun to stop.

Then last, but certainly not least, Charles. Your bond with him was something else entirely. The connection between you felt effortless, almost surreal. He was the friend you could call at any hour to talk about anything or nothing. You could spend hours in comfortable silence, never growing bored. But Charles was also the friend that you had secretly been in love with for years. You knew you shouldn't be, your friendship worth way too much to risk it for a stupid crush. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get over him. Every time you dated someone else, it always came back to Charles.

But even if you'd allow yourself to feel the way you did about him, you'd already given up the hope of him ever feeling the same despite your friends insisting otherwise, pointing out how he smiled brighter when he was around you or how his gaze lingered a little longer. You were unable to believe it, the scenario seeming to good to be true.

There were moments—fleeting, breathless moments—when you thought something was there. Moments where your faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts pounding. But right before anything could happen, one of you would pull back, retreating before the tension broke, both of you pretending it had never happened.

Charles had been in love with you longer than he cared to admit. Everything about you captivated him—the way your laughter filled a room, the ease with which you could calm him when he was frustrated, the way you just got him without him needing to explain a thing. Around you, he felt at ease and yet so unbelievably nervous. His heart would race whenever you were near, his palms would get sweaty, and he could feel the tension in his chest and stomach. There were so many times he’d wanted to pull you close, to feel your body against his, but something always stopped him.

It was fear. Fear that you would notice how much he felt for you and that it would scare you off. The thought of you realizing the depth of his feelings terrified him, because losing you, even as just a friend, was unthinkable. He tried to keep a distance for that reason, but it was impossible. You had this way of driving him wild without even trying, leaving him helpless in the wake of his emotions.

He’d fantasized about you more often than he dared to admit—so many nights spent alone in his apartment, hand slipping beneath his waistband, your name falling from his lips in breathless whispers. But it wasn’t just the physical desire; it was how much he felt when he was around you. You made him feel alive in a way no one else could.

And then, there was Oscar. The way you two were so close, always together, always laughing, sent a pang of jealousy through him. You said there was nothing romantic between you, but sometimes, Charles couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt something for him. It ate at him, the idea of someone else having what he wanted so desperately. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

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The roar of engines echoed across the pit lane as the top three finishers of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix parked their cars by their respective signs. Charles finished 2nd, which made you incredibly excited for him, but your excitement today reached an even higher level by the one who finished first. Oscar just won his second Grand Prix in F1 and you were feeling so incredibly proud.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, engulfing Oscar's mom in a crushing hug, sharing your mutual excitement. You looked up at Oscar climbing out of the car, bumping his fist in the air, cheering enthusiastically.

"God, look at him, finally a win he is allowing himself to enjoy!" you chimed to his mom.

You watched as Oscar ran straight into the arms of his engineers, their shared happiness palpable in the air. The joy between them was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Charles climbing out of his car in the background, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Post-race Charles always did things to you that you couldn't quite explain. You wanted to wave, but he seemed busy with his team, so you decided to congratulate him on his podium later.

Your attention shifted back to Oscar just as he approached his mum, pulling her into a warm embrace while carefully avoiding bumping her with his helmet.

"I'm so proud of you, darling!" she cooed, squeezing him a little tighter before they eventually pulled apart.

Oscar removed his helmet and reached up to pull off his balaclava, revealing a blissed-out expression. His smile was radiant, a mix of joy and relief, as if the weight of the race had melted away in that victorious moment.

He caught your eye, and his grin widened. "I did it! I actually did it!" he exclaimed, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

"You did! You really did!" you gushed, your smile matching his as you shared in his happiness.

Without warning, Oscar launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you over the fence you’d been leaning against. He hugged you tightly, spinning you around as both of you laughed, the sound of your shared joy echoing across the pit lane.

The cameras were all pointed in your direction, capturing the moment. To you and Oscar, it was nothing more than two best friends celebrating a hard-fought victory. But to the outside world, the scene looked far more intimate than it felt.

Charles stood at a distance, watching the moment unfold. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you and Oscar together, laughter and smiles shared so easily between you. You’d told him there was nothing going on with Oscar, that the two of you were just best friends—but looking at you now, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

It hurt. It hurt to see you in Oscar’s arms, when he wished so desperately that it was him instead. He felt a wave of frustration, jealousy swirling inside him. Oscar was his friend, someone he genuinely liked, but seeing you together like that made it hard to think straight. The fear that Oscar might steal you away—his girl, even though you weren’t even his—gnawed at him.

“She said there was nothing between them,” he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself.

Pierre appeared beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think it’s not what it looks like, mate," he offered, sensing Charles’ mood.

Charles shook his head, frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what they always say when they’re denying it," he replied, his voice low. "I know she’s single, and she can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants, but… it just hurts."

Pierre gave him a sympathetic look, but Charles couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to punch something, not because he hated Oscar—he liked Oscar—but because seeing you so close to him made him feel like he was losing you, even though you were never his to begin with.

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Later in the day, as the adrenaline from the race began to wear off, you found yourself searching for Charles. You had spent the afternoon immersed in the celebrations with Oscar and the McLaren team, reveling in their victory. Despite the fun, your thoughts kept drifting back to Charles.

Navigating through the bustling paddock, you scanned the area for any sign of him. You wanted to offer your congratulations and express how proud you were, but Charles seemed to have vanished.

When you stepped into the Ferrari motorhome, you were greeted by Carlos. The Spaniard offered you a small, knowing smile. "Hey," he said as he approached you.

"Hey, have you seen Charles?" you asked, absentmindedly twirling a stray strand of hair.

Carlos's smile turned apologetic. "He already left for the hotel. Said something about not feeling up to it today."

Your heart sank a bit. "Oh, I wanted to congratulate him earlier, but I got caught up with the celebrations."

A flicker of realization crossed Carlos's face. "Ah, that explains why he seemed so on edge when he came back here."

Confusion clouded your expression. "What do you mean?"

Carlos’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I think Charles got a bit unsettled seeing you so close with Oscar instead of him."

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Why would he be annoyed? My best friend won the race. Of course I celebrated with him. It's not like I didn't want to celebrate with Charles, it's just that Oscar is my best friend. And he also deserves the attention when he achieves something amazing like this."

Carlos’s smirk widened slightly. "That’s exactly his problem."

You stood there, grappling with the situation, struggling to find the right words. Carlos seemed to sense your confusion and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Maybe you should talk to him. There might be more going on between you two than you realize."

His words hung in the air, adding a new layer to your thoughts as you considered the possibility of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings.

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"You seemed awfully intimate with Piastri this afternoon, anything unfolding there?" you heard Alex tease on through the phone.

He had called you had texted that you were on the way back to the hotel, something you often did to just gossip and rant about everything that went on.

You rolled your eyes, and huffed "Why does everybody keep saying that. Not even in my wildest dreams, ew" you whined "I know he's good looking, I'm not blind, but the idea of doing something with him revolts me just as much as it revolts him"

The chuckle that Alex let out was audible to you "Well, to be fair, it didn't look like nothing on camera" he started, another chuckle leaving his lips "Have you checked your social media lately? Apparently the camera's catched Charles' reaction to your little moment with Oscar. The video is going quite viral. He is shooting daggers at Oscar, man. The jealousy is literally burning in his eyes"

You sighed "Don't, Alex" you whispered "Don't give me hope"

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You arrived at Charles's hotel room with a mix of anxiety and frustration swirling inside you. His abrupt disappearance after the celebration, coupled with his avoidance of your calls, had left you feeling unsettled and concerned. Your knuckles rapped against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. When Charles finally opened it, his face was a mask of irritation, the tension in his posture unmistakable.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, stepping past him before he could react.

Charles’s eyes were dark with frustration. “Nothing,” he snapped, but the rigidity in his stance and the clenched fists he tried to hide told a different story.

You let out a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I know you’re lying,” you insisted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, trying to steady your breathing. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Charles stood with his back to you, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Why him?” he finally asked, his voice strained and raw.

Confusion creased your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Charles’s frustration finally erupted. “Why did you celebrate with Oscar and not with me? I finished second. I deserved some attention too.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. “Oscar’s my best friend too. This win was a big deal for him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to find you, but you were already gone.”

Charles’s eyes flashed with hurt and jealousy, a dark storm clouding his gaze. “It feels like you care more about him than me. It fucking hurts to see you so close to him, probably even—”

His words struck a nerve, causing irritation to flare within you. “Oscar and I are just friends, Charles.” You stated, your anger bubbled over. “And so what if it was more? Why does it matter to you? I’m not your property. You dont get to decide who I spend time with. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”

Charles’s face flushed with frustration, his voice rising with each word. “Merde, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be your best friend!”

His declaration stunned you, a mix of hurt and anger surging within you, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to be my best friend, I might as well go back to Oscar then. Since, according to you, that’s where I prefer to be. You apparently know me better than I do!”

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, but Charles’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a desperate grip. His eyes burned with an intense emotion, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that was almost palpable. Before you could react, he pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was both fierce and consuming.

The kiss was rough, charged with pent-up emotions. Charles’s lips moved against yours with an urgent hunger, a reflection of the depth of his feelings. The heat of his body pressed against yours, every touch and caress infused with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your curves, claiming you with each possessive stroke. You could feel the undeniable pressure of his arousal pressing against you, intensifying the moment.

He guided you gently back toward the bed, his touch both tender and commanding. Slowly, he lowered you down onto it, his hands caressing your sides with a reverence that spoke of his deep feelings for you. He leaned over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t want to be your best friend,” he said, his voice heavy with desire. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

You were taken aback by his declaration, the words resonating deeply within you. Before you could respond, Charles’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as he explored your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

You moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips as his touch ignited a fire within you. Charles’s arousal was evident, his body pressing against yours in a way that heightened your senses. “Tell me you think about me at night and not him,” he demanded, his voice husky and filled with longing.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as Charles’s touch and kisses overwhelmed your senses. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, caressing, igniting every nerve with a mix of desperation and adoration. His touch was both possessive and tender, his kisses deep and demanding.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me you scream my name when you come and not his.”

You met his intense gaze, your voice breathless and filled with yearning. “Only you, Charles. It has always been you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, his expression softening slightly as he continued his intimate exploration. He guided your hands to his jeans, his breathing ragged with desire. “Have you ever thought about him like this?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Touched him like this?”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and affection. “It’s only you, Charles,” you replied, your voice sultry. “I never saw Oscar that way.”

Charles’s frustration and desire mingled as he felt your touch, his body tensing and his control slipping. He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that reflected his overwhelmed state. His hands gripped the edge of the bed for support as you palmed him through his jeans, your touch eliciting a series of desperate groans from him.

Unable to hold back any longer, you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand inside, taking him in your grasp. Charles gasped, his breathing coming in short, erratic bursts. “F-Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “That feels so good.” His body tensed and trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of your touch. “J-Just like that,” he gasped, his voice a desperate, needy growl. “Show me you’re mine. I want you to think about me every time you touch yourself. I hope that after tonight, you can never touch another man without thinking about me.”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with passion. “It’s already been like that for years,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Charles’s gaze softened for a moment, but his need took over. He flipped you back onto the bed with a sudden, urgent intensity. His movements were driven by a deep-seated desire, his lips finding yours again, kissing you with a feverish passion that made your heart race.

As he undressed you, his touch was both deliberate and passionate. He removed the last bits of his clothing with a mix of urgency and tenderness, his hands lingering on your skin, savoring the feel of you beneath him. He paused, looking into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Tell me, do you want this as much as I do?”

You nodded, your voice breathless with anticipation. “Yes, Charles. I want you. I want all of you.”

Charles’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he positioned himself above you. His hands continued their intimate exploration, his kisses trailing down your neck and shoulders with a mix of urgency and tenderness. Each touch was a declaration of his intense feelings, a blend of passion and possession that left you craving more.

As the intensity of the moment built, Charles’s control wavered. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of need and desire. “Tell me you’re mine,” he urged, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to hear you say it, mon amour”

You looked at him, your body trembling with desire as he continued to touch and kiss

you. “I’m yours, Charles,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both need and certainty.

Charles’s expression softened into one of profound relief and adoration, but a trace of jealousy lingered in his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As he positioned himself between your legs, there was a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness in his touch. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice filled with deep emotion and a hint of a possessive edge.

With that, he entered you slowly, his movements tender yet unmistakably possessive. His thrusts were gentle and loving, but each one was infused with a sense of claiming, as though he was marking you as his own. His kisses were gentle but urgent, his lips traveling down your neck as he began to suck and nibble, leaving marks that would clearly show his affection and his possessiveness.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his touch. “Charles, be careful. They will be visible,” you said, your voice a mixture of concern and pleasure.

Charles’s eyes darkened with a mix of satisfaction and jealousy. “That’s the point,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl filled with both desire and a possessive undertone. “I want him to see and know that you belong to me. I want him to see what he’s missing, that you’re mine and mine alone.”

His words stirred something deep within you, causing a moan to escape your lips that was loud and unrestrained, a testament to the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your hand instinctively traveled up to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled gently but firmly. The sensation of his hair being tugged caused him to shiver, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that reverberated against your skin.

Charles’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He groaned softly, his breath coming in ragged bursts as the pull on his hair heightened his arousal. “Fuck...” he whispered, his voice trembling with both pleasure and disbelief. The feeling of your fingers in his hair only intensified his longing, making him feel as though he were losing control. “Merde… that feels so good,” he muttered, his tone rough and desperate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The way you tugged at his hair drove him to new heights of pleasure, his moans growing louder and more fervent as he lost himself in the sensations. Each pull sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his movements more urgent and fervent, as though he were trying to convey just how deeply your touch affected him.

As he continued, his thrusts maintained a balance of gentle passion and possessive claim, his hands gripping you with a mix of tenderness and assertion. The rhythm of his movements was both caring and commanding, a reflection of his deep, conflicted emotions. His kisses left a trail of marks, each one a silent declaration of his fierce, consuming love and possessiveness.

Charles’s eyes lock onto yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I-I’m so close,” he gasps, his voice strained with the intensity of the moment. The desperate need in his eyes makes your heart race, his body pressing into yours with a fervor that only heightens your own arousal.

You can barely hold back your own pleasure, the sensations coursing through you almost overwhelming. “Me too” you moan, your voice trembling as you inch closer to the edge. “Come for me, Charles,” 

Your encouragement is the final push he needs, and his body reacts instantly. The combination of your words and the electric tension between you drives him over the edge. The urgency in Charles’s movements and the heat of his gaze as tumbles over the edge draws you to the peak of your ecstasy with him.

As the two of you reached the peak of your intimacy, Charles’s moans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of pleasure and connection that echoed through the room. The shared release was an explosion of ecstasy that left you both trembling and gasping, entwined in the aftermath of your union. 

When the world finally settled and the waves of pleasure began to recede, Charles held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You smiled through your own breathless satisfaction, responding softly, “I could say the same to you.”

Charles’s expression softened further as he kissed you tenderly, his hands caressing your skin with a gentleness that spoke of his deep affection. The moment was filled with a profound sense of connection and fulfillment, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your bond.

masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Hall Pass

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Carlos Sainz x ex!Reader

Summary: Carlos’ desire to fantasize about other women leads you straight into his teammate’s arms (or in which your boyfriend chooses a famous actress as his hall pass while you decide on someone much closer to home)

The hotel suite is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. You sit on the edge of the king-sized bed, your fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on the duvet cover. Across the room, Carlos leans against the ornate writing desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a pensive look on his face.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and measured. “We need to talk.”

You look up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s on your mind?”

He shifts his weight, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking ... about us. About our relationship.”

Your heart skips a beat, a knot forming in your stomach. “Oh? And what have you been thinking?”

Carlos takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room before settling back on you. “I love you, Y/N. I do. But ... I can’t help feeling like we’re stuck in a rut.”

You furrow your brow, confusion and hurt mingling in your chest. “A rut? What do you mean?”

“It’s just ...” He pauses, searching for the right words. “We’ve been together for so long, and it’s been great. But don’t you ever wonder what else is out there?”

You stand up, taking a step towards him. “Carlos, are you saying you want to break up?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head quickly. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I just ... I had an idea.”

“An idea?” You repeat, your voice laced with skepticism.

Carlos nods, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone. “What if we each got a hall pass?”

You blink, taken aback. “A hall pass? Like ... permission to sleep with someone else?”

“Exactly,” he says, snapping his fingers. “But not just anyone. We each choose one person, and if we ever happen to meet them and the opportunity arises, we’re allowed to go for it. No hard feelings, no guilt.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words. “Let me get this straight. You want us to choose people we can cheat on each other with, guilt-free?”

Carlos winces at your phrasing. “It’s not cheating if we both agree to it. Think of it as ... spicing things up. Adding a little excitement to our relationship.”

You cross your arms, mirroring his earlier stance. “And you think this will solve our supposed ‘rut’?”

He shrugs, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “It could be fun. Just imagine the thrill of knowing we both have this secret possibility out there.”

You shake your head, disbelief coloring your voice. “I can’t believe you’re seriously suggesting this.”

“Come on, mi amor,” Carlos coaxes, taking a step towards you. “It’s not like anything will actually happen. We’ll probably never even meet the people we choose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is the fantasy, the excitement,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “It’s like ... buying a lottery ticket. You know you probably won’t win, but the possibility is thrilling.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering his words. Part of you wants to shut down this ridiculous idea immediately, but another part is intrigued by the challenge. “And you really think this will help our relationship?”

Carlos nods eagerly. “I do. It’ll add a spark, keep things interesting.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

“So ... is that a yes?” Carlos asks, hope evident in his voice.

After a long moment, you nod slowly. “Fine. But we set some ground rules first.”

Carlos grins, clapping his hands together. “Of course! Whatever you want.”

You hold up a finger. “Rule number one: we tell each other who we choose. No secrets.”

“Agreed,” Carlos says quickly.

“Rule number two: if anything ever does happen, we tell each other immediately.”

Carlos nods. “Absolutely. Honesty is key.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. So ... who’s your choice?”

Carlos’ grin widens. “Margot Robbie.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Seriously? Margot Robbie?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “What? She’s gorgeous, talented, and there’s practically zero chance I’ll ever meet her, let alone have the opportunity to sleep with her.”

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Well, at least you’re being realistic about your chances.”

Carlos chuckles. “Exactly. It’s the perfect choice. Exciting, but safe.” He leans forward, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “What about you? Who’s your hall pass going to be?”

You pause, pretending to consider your options carefully. In truth, you’ve already made your decision, a plan forming in your mind. “Well,” you say slowly, “I think I’ll choose ... Charles.”

Carlos’ brow furrows in confusion. “Charles? What Charles?”

You allow a small smirk to play across your lips. “Charles Leclerc.”

The color drains from Carlos’ face as realization dawns. “Charles ... Leclerc? My teammate, Charles Leclerc?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “That’s the one.”

Carlos sputters, his earlier confidence evaporating. “But-but you can’t choose him!”

“Why not?” You ask, your voice sweet. “He fits all the criteria. He’s attractive, talented, and exciting.”

“But he’s my teammate!” Carlos exclaims, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “You see him all the time!”

You shrug, echoing his earlier nonchalance. “So? You’re the one who wanted to add some excitement to our relationship.”

Carlos paces back and forth, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by panic. “This isn’t what I meant! I chose someone I’ll never meet. You chose someone you could literally bump into tomorrow!”

“Carlos,” you say, your voice taking on a patronizing tone, “are you saying you don’t trust me?”

He stops pacing, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Of course I trust you. It’s just ... it’s Charles!”

You take a step towards him, your expression hardening. “Let me ask you something. Did you really think this through when you suggested it? Or were you just hoping for a free pass to fantasize about other women without feeling guilty?”

Carlos opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find a response. “I ... that’s not ... I didn’t mean ...”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. You’d get to keep me while indulging in your little fantasies about Margot Robbie or whoever else catches your eye.”

“Mi amor, please,” Carlos pleads, reaching for your hand. “That’s not what this was about at all.”

You pull away from his grasp, shaking your head. “No? Then what was it about? Because it sure as hell wasn’t about improving our relationship.”

He runs his hands over his face, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I just ... I thought it would be fun. A little harmless fantasy to spice things up.”

“Well, congratulations,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve certainly spiced things up now.”

Carlos looks at you, desperation in his eyes. “Can we just ... can we forget this whole thing? Pretend I never suggested it?”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Oh no, Carlos. You don’t get to backtrack now. You wanted a hall pass? You’ve got one.”

“Please,” he begs, reaching for you again. “I was being stupid. I don’t want this.”

You step back, avoiding his touch. “Too late. What was it you said? No hard feelings, no guilt?”

Carlos’ face crumples. “I didn’t think ... I never imagined you’d choose someone like Charles.”

“Maybe you should have,” you snap. “Maybe you should have considered how I’d feel about you wanting permission to sleep with other women.”

He hangs his head, shame written across his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. Can we please just talk about this?”

You shake your head, moving towards the door of the suite. “I think we’ve talked enough for one night.”

Carlos’ head snaps up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

You grab your purse from the nearby chair, slinging it over your shoulder. “Out. I need some air.”

“Y/N, wait!” Carlos calls, his voice rising in desperation. “You can’t ... you’re not going to ...”

You turn back to face him, your hand on the doorknob. “Going to what, Carlos? Use my hall pass? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No! I mean, yes, but not like this. Not with Charles!”

“Why not?” You challenge. “He’s attractive, available, and conveniently located just down the hall. Isn’t that exciting?”

Carlos’ face contorts with a mixture of anger and fear. “You wouldn’t. You’re just trying to teach me a lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I? Are you willing to bet on that?”

He takes a step towards you, his voice pleading. “Mi amor, please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

You open the door, pausing in the threshold. “You know, Carlos, you were right about one thing. This definitely isn’t boring anymore.”

As you step into the hallway, you hear Carlos’ voice rising behind you. “Y/N! Come back! We need to talk about this!”

You let the door swing shut behind you, cutting off his desperate pleas. As you walk down the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished floor, a small smile plays across your lips.

You have no intention of actually going to Charles’ room, of course. But Carlos doesn’t need to know that. Let him stew in his own jealousy and insecurity for a while. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before suggesting something so foolish.

As you reach the elevator, you can still hear Carlos’ muffled shouts echoing from your suite. You press the button for the lobby, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Part of you feels guilty for causing him such distress, but a larger part feels justified in your actions. He needed to understand the consequences of his thoughtless suggestion.

As the elevator doors slide closed, you let out a long breath. It’s going to be a long night, but perhaps this will be the wake-up call your relationship needed. Not in the way Carlos had intended, but in a way that forces you both to confront the real issues lurking beneath the surface.

The elevator begins its descent, carrying you away from the drama upstairs and towards an uncertain future. One thing’s for sure — your relationship will never be the same after tonight. Whether that’s for better or worse remains to be seen.

***

The hotel bar is a sanctuary of soft lighting and hushed conversations. You sit perched on a high stool, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to quiet the storm of emotions raging inside you. The bartender, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, keeps glancing your way, clearly sensing your distress but respectfully maintaining his distance.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he speaks.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

You look up, startled, to find Charles Leclerc standing beside you, concern etched across his handsome features. For a moment, you’re struck by the irony of the situation.

“Charles,” you manage, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just ... needed some air.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. “At the bar? Must be some very alcoholic air.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “Caught me. Mind if I buy you a drink to keep my secret?”

Charles slides onto the stool next to you, a warm smile playing across his lips. “Only if you let me buy the next round and tell me what’s really going on.”

You hesitate, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s ... complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” Charles says softly, signaling the bartender. “And I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

As the bartender sets a Moscow Mule in front of Charles, you take a deep breath. “Carlos and I had a fight.”

Charles nods, his expression neutral. “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, you’re going to love this. He suggested we each get a hall pass.”

Charles’ brow furrows in confusion. “A hall pass? Like in school?”

“No,” you explain, taking a sip of your wine. “A relationship hall pass. Permission to sleep with one chosen person if the opportunity ever arose.”

Charles’ eyes widen in surprise. “He suggested that? Really?”

You nod, feeling a fresh wave of anger wash over you. “He thought it would ‘spice things up’. Add some excitement to our relationship.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Charles asks carefully, studying your face.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly? I felt ... hurt. Betrayed. Like I wasn’t enough for him anymore.”

Charles reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently placing his hand over yours. “Y/N, you’re more than enough. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

You look up, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you. That ... means a lot.”

He squeezes your hand before pulling away, taking a sip of his drink. “So, what happened next?”

You feel a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I agreed.”

Charles nearly chokes on his drink. “You did?”

You nod, unable to suppress a small chuckle at his reaction. “I did. But not for the reasons Carlos wanted.”

“Oh?” Charles leans in, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Do tell.”

“Well,” you say, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “Carlos chose Margot Robbie as his hall pass.”

Charles snorts. “Of course he did.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “So when it was my turn to choose ... I picked you.”

For a moment, Charles is speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he manages to sputter, “Me? You chose me?”

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I did. You should have seen Carlos’ face. He was furious.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, looking both flattered and bewildered. “I ... wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him quickly. “I didn’t choose you because I actually intended to ... you know. I chose you to teach Carlos a lesson.”

Charles nods slowly, processing this information. “And did he learn his lesson?”

You shrug, finishing off your wine. “I don’t know. I left him screaming in our hotel room.”

“Y/N,” Charles says softly, his voice full of concern. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. You deserve better.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Do I? Sometimes I wonder ...”

Charles reaches out again, this time cupping your cheek gently. “Listen to me. You are an incredible woman. You’re smart, funny, beautiful ... any man would be lucky to have you. And if Carlos can’t see that, if he’s willing to risk losing you over some stupid fantasy, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the wine. “Charles ...”

He leans in closer, his voice low and intense. “If you were with me, I would treat you like the queen you deserve to be. I would never even think about another woman, let alone ask for permission to be with one.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Charles, I ... we can’t ...”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Why not? You have a hall pass, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of emotions clouding your judgment. “That’s not ... I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Charles sighs, dropping his hand from your face. “I know. And I would never want to be the reason you and Carlos break up. But Y/N, you have to know ... I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You have?”

He nods, a rueful smile on his face. “How could I not? You’re amazing. But you were with Carlos, and I respected that. I still do. But seeing you hurt like this ... it kills me.”

You feel tears spilling down your cheeks now, unable to hold them back any longer. “I don’t know what to do. I love Carlos, but after tonight ... I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.”

Charles pulls you into a gentle hug, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. “It’s okay. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. “I just ... I feel so lost.”

He strokes your hair softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

You pull back slightly, looking up into his eyes. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Always. But Y/N ... I want you to know that if you ever decide you want more than friendship, I’m here. I would never hurt you the way Carlos has.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and fear. “Charles, I ...”

He shakes his head, placing a finger gently on your lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you are, of the electricity crackling between you. “I should ... I should probably go.”

Charles nods, but makes no move to let you go. “Probably. But do you want to?”

You bite your lip, torn between desire and duty. “I ... I don’t know.”

He leans in, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispers, “Come up to my room. We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk or watch a movie. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

You shiver at his closeness, your resolve weakening. “Charles, I ... what if someone sees us?”

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “Let them see. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to have friends, to seek comfort when you’re hurting.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that you’re standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. But looking into Charles’ eyes, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s go.”

Charles stands, offering you his hand. You take it, allowing him to lead you towards the elevators. As you walk, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you, but Charles’ steady presence beside you helps you keep your head high.

In the elevator, you stand close together, the air thick with unspoken tension. Charles’ thumb traces small circles on the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

“Charles,” you say softly as the elevator begins to ascend. “I need you to know ... I’m not using you to get back at Carlos. Whatever happens tonight, it’s because I want it to.”

He turns to face you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek once more. “I know. And I want you to know that whatever happens or doesn’t happen, tonight doesn’t change anything. I’ll still be here for you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time since your fight with Carlos. “Thank you.”

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at Charles’ floor. He leads you down the hallway to his suite, fumbling slightly with the key card before pushing the door open.

As you step inside, you’re struck by how different it feels from the suite you share with Carlos. Where your room is cluttered with both of your belongings, evidence of your life together, Charles’ suite is neat and minimalist. It feels like a blank slate, a fresh start.

Charles closes the door behind you, leaning against it as he watches you take in the room. “So,” he says softly, “what now?”

You turn to face him, suddenly feeling nervous. “I ... I don’t know. This is all happening so fast.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow. Why don’t we sit down, maybe order some room service? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You feel a rush of affection for him, grateful for his patience and understanding. “That sounds nice.”

Charles moves to the phone, quickly ordering a selection of snacks and another bottle of wine. As he hangs up, he turns back to you with a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered your favorite.”

You blink in surprise. “You know my favorite wine?”

He shrugs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I pay attention.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words. How many times had you had to remind Carlos of your preferences?

As you settle onto the plush sofa, Charles takes a seat beside you, close but not touching. “Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that you’re in control here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and desire. “I know. And I appreciate that, Charles. But ...”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. “But I think I want to kiss you.”

Charles’ eyes widen, a look of surprise and joy spreading across his face. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. For a moment, Charles is still, as if he can’t believe this is happening. Then, with a small groan, he responds, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

As you lose yourself in the sensation of Charles’ lips on yours, his strong arms pulling you closer, you feel a sense of rightness settle over you. You know that there will be consequences to face tomorrow, difficult conversations to be had. But for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything else and simply feel.

When you finally pull apart, both breathing heavily, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “Me too. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. “Now ... now we take things one step at a time. I can’t make any promises, Charles. I need to sort things out with Carlos, figure out what I really want.”

He nods, understanding and a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I know. And I’ll respect whatever decision you make. Just know that I’m here, Y/N. Whatever you need.”

You lean in, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

As you settle back into his arms, feeling safe and cared for in a way you haven’t in a long time, you know that whatever the future holds, this night has changed everything. And for the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

***

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, a sliver landing directly on the warming skin of your face. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you realize you’re not in your own bed. As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself nestled in Charles’ arms, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your cheek.

For a moment, panic flares in your chest as you try to piece together the events of the night before. But as memories flood back, you relax, remembering that while you and Charles shared kisses and conversation, nothing more intimate transpired.

Charles shifts beside you, his arms tightening slightly as he wakes. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You tilt your head to look up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Good morning.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess, surprised by the sense of calm that settles over you. “Better than I expected, actually.”

Charles nods, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad. I was worried you might regret ... well, everything.”

You shake your head, sitting up slightly to meet his gaze. “I don’t regret anything. Last night ... it made a lot of things clear for me.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity and hope warring in his expression. “Oh? What kind of things?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. “I think ... I think I want to be with you. Not just for a hall pass, not just for one night. I want to see where this could go between us.”

Charles’ face lights up, joy radiating from every feature. But then, just as quickly, concern clouds his expression. “Y/N, as much as I want that — and believe me, I do — what about Carlos?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I need to end things with him. Properly. What he did, suggesting that hall pass ... it was just a symptom of bigger problems in our relationship. I see that now.”

Charles nods slowly, sitting up beside you. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to make any rash decisions because of one fight.”

You turn to face him fully, taking his hands in yours. “I’m sure. Last night, talking with you, being with you ... it made me realize what I’ve been missing. The respect, the understanding, the way you actually listen to me. I want that. I want you.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, but there’s still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. But ... are you sure you want to do this now? Maybe you should take some time, think things through.”

You shake your head, determination setting in. “No, I need to do this now. If I wait, I’ll just be living a lie. Carlos deserves to know the truth, and I ... I want to start this — us — with a clean slate.”

Charles squeezes your hands gently. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I’m not letting you face Carlos alone.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He meets your gaze steadily. “I mean I’m coming with you when you break up with him. I know Carlos, and I know he’s not going to take this well. I want to be there to support you.”

“Charles,” you protest weakly, “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s going to be messy enough without you there.”

He shakes his head firmly. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. More than that, I’m insisting. We’re in this together now. Let me be there for you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by his support. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Charles leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always. Now, why don’t we get cleaned up and face this together?”

An hour later, freshly showered and steeled for the confrontation ahead, you stand outside the door to your suite with Charles by your side. Your hand trembles slightly as you raise it to knock.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, catching your hand in his. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here with you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the door. For a long moment, there’s silence. Then, just as you’re about to knock again, the door flies open.

Carlos stands there, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. His gaze flicks between you and Charles, confusion quickly morphing into anger.

“What the hell is this?” He demands, his voice rough.

You step forward, trying to keep your voice calm. “We need to talk.”

He laughs bitterly, throwing the door wider. “Oh, now you want to talk? After disappearing all night? Come on in, let’s have a nice chat.”

As you and Charles enter the suite, you can’t help but notice the state of disarray. Empty bottles litter the coffee table, and it’s clear Carlos hasn’t slept.

“Have a nice night?” Carlos spits, slamming the door behind you.

You flinch at the sound, but stand your ground. “I’m sorry for leaving like that. But we need to discuss what happened.”

He rounds on you, anger blazing in his eyes. “What’s there to discuss? You used your fucking hall pass, didn’t you? With him?” He jabs a finger at Charles, who remains calm but alert beside you.

“No, Carlos, I didn’t,” you say firmly. “Charles and I talked, that’s all.”

Carlos scoffs, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Oh, you expect me to believe that? You disappear all night, then show up with him in the morning, and I’m supposed to think nothing happened?”

Charles steps forward, his voice level. “She’s telling you the truth. Nothing happened between us last night.”

Carlos whirls on him, fury contorting his features. “Stay out of this, Leclerc. This is between me and my girlfriend.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you at his possessive tone. “That’s just it. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

The room goes deathly silent as your words hang in the air. Carlos stares at you, shock replacing anger for a moment before his face hardens again.

“What did you just say?” He growls.

You stand tall, drawing strength from Charles’ presence beside you. “I said I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

For a moment, Carlos looks like you’ve physically struck him. Then, with a roar of rage, he sweeps his arm across the nearest surface, sending glasses and bottles crashing to the floor.

“You fucking bitch!” He shouts, advancing on you. “You sleep with my teammate and then have the audacity to break up with me?”

Charles steps between you and Carlos, his voice low and dangerous. “Back off. Now.”

Carlos sneers at him. “Oh, defending your new whore, are you? How noble.”

You push past Charles, anger overriding your fear. “That’s enough! I told you, I didn’t sleep with Charles. But even if I had, it would have been my right. You’re the one who suggested this stupid hall pass in the first place!”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Oh, so this is my fault now? I suggest a little harmless fantasy to spice things up, and you use it as an excuse to cheat on me?”

“It wasn’t harmless!” You shout back. “It was hurtful and disrespectful. Did you ever stop to think how it would make me feel, knowing you wanted permission to sleep with other women?”

Carlos runs his hands through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “It wasn’t about that! It was just a game, a fantasy!”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. “That’s the problem. Our relationship isn’t a game. It’s not something to be risked on a whim. And the fact that you don’t understand that ... it just proves we’re not right for each other anymore.”

Carlos’ anger seems to deflate, replaced by a desperate pleading. “Y/N, please. We can work this out. I’m sorry about the hall pass thing, okay? I was an idiot. But don’t throw away everything we have over one stupid mistake.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them back. “It’s not just about the hall pass. It’s about everything. The way you take me for granted, the way you never really listen to me. I deserve better than that. I deserve someone who respects me, who values me.”

Carlos’ gaze flicks to Charles, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And you think he’s that someone? My teammate? My friend?”

Charles steps forward, his voice soft but firm. “I’m sorry it happened this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But Y/N is right — she deserves better. And I want to be the one to give her that.”

For a moment, you think Carlos might lunge at Charles. But then, to your surprise, he crumples, sinking onto the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“How long?” He asks, his voice muffled.

You move closer, but stop short of touching him. “How long what?”

He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. “How long have you two been ... feeling this way about each other?”

You exchange a glance with Charles before answering. “Honestly? I didn’t realize how I felt about Charles until last night. When he was there for me, really listening and supporting me ... it made me see what I’ve been missing.”

Carlos nods slowly, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “And you, Charles? How long have you been in love with my girlfriend?”

Charles takes a deep breath, meeting Carlos’ gaze steadily. “A while. But Carlos, I swear to you, nothing ever happened between us until last night. And even then, we didn’t sleep together. I respect you too much for that.”

Carlos laughs humorlessly. “Respect me? You’re stealing my girlfriend and you talk about respect?”

You feel a flare of irritation at his words. “He’s not stealing me. I’m not a possession. I’m making my own choice.”

Carlos stands abruptly, moving to the window and staring out at the city below. For a long moment, silence reigns in the room. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, defeated.

“Get out. Both of you. I can’t ... I can’t look at either of you right now.”

You take a step towards him, your heart aching despite everything. “Carlos ...”

He whirls around, his eyes flashing. “I said get out! Take your things and go. I’ll have the rest sent to you.”

You nod slowly, knowing that pushing further will only make things worse. As you move around the room, gathering your essential belongings, you feel a profound sadness settling over you. This is the end of a significant chapter in your life, and despite your certainty that it’s the right decision, it still hurts.

Charles waits by the door, a silent, supportive presence. When you’ve finished packing a small bag, you join him, pausing at the threshold to look back at Carlos one last time.

“I’m sorry it ended this way,” you say softly. “I hope ... I hope someday you can forgive us.”

Carlos doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn to look at you. With a heavy sigh, you step into the hallway, Charles close behind you.

As the door clicks shut, you lean against the wall, suddenly feeling drained. Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his warmth. “I will be. It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. But you’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.”

You look up at him, managing a small smile despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. “Together. I like the sound of that.”

***

The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the curtains of Charles’ hotel suite, casting a golden light across the room. You sit on the plush sofa, your legs tucked beneath you, a glass of Prosecco cradled in your hands. Across from you, Charles leans against the minibar, his own glass in hand, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you.

“What?” You ask, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks under his intense gaze.

Charles shakes his head, his smile widening. “Nothing. I just ... I can’t believe you’re really here. With me.”

You take a sip of your Prosecco, savoring the crisp, bubbly taste. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself. But I’m glad I am.”

Charles moves to join you on the sofa, settling in close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “How are you feeling? After everything that happened with Carlos ...”

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. “Honestly? I feel ... lighter. Like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted.”

Charles nods, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad. But I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. If you need time, space ...”

You cut him off by placing your hand gently on his arm. “I appreciate that. But I’ve had years of space with Carlos. What I want now is to be here, with you.”

His eyes light up at your words, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As he pulls back, you can’t help but smile at the joy radiating from him.

“You know,” you say, taking another sip of your Prosecco, “I have to admit, I was surprised when you ordered this.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “The Prosecco? Why?”

You shrug, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Carlos always insisted on ordering Spanish cava. He said it was better. I never had the heart to tell him I preferred Prosecco.”

Charles looks at you incredulously. “You’re kidding. He never noticed?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I mean, I drank it, of course. But ... I don’t know. It just never seemed important enough to make a fuss over.”

Charles sets his glass down on the coffee table, turning to face you fully. “Y/N, listen to me. Your preferences, your likes and dislikes — they’re important. They matter. You matter.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, gently wiping away a tear that has escaped. “It’s the truth. And for the record, I’ve known you preferred Prosecco since that team dinner in Monza two years ago.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You remember that?”

Charles nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Of course. You lit up when they brought out the Prosecco. Your whole face changed. I’ve never seen someone so happy over a glass of bubbly.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “I can’t believe you noticed that.”

“I notice everything about you,” Charles says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I always have.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “Like what?”

Charles’ thumb traces gentle circles on your skin as he speaks. “Like how you always twist your hair around your finger when you’re deep in thought. Or how you bite your lip to hide your smile when you’re trying not to laugh at one of the guys’ bad jokes.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, touched by his attention to detail. “What else?”

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I know you have a secret stash of gummy bears in your purse for long flights. And that you always hum Dancing Queen under your breath when you’re in a good mood.”

You gasp in mock horror. “Charles Leclerc, have you been spying on me?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Not spying. Just ... paying attention. Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat at the tenderness in his gaze. “It’s more than okay. It’s ... it’s wonderful.”

Charles leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re wonderful. And you deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates every little thing about you.”

You close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When you pull back, you’re both a little breathless.

“Charles,” you murmur, “I think I’m falling for you.”

His face lights up with joy. “That’s good, because I’ve already fallen for you.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in years. “Oh really? When did that happen?”

Charles pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm, probably around the time you yelled at that journalist for asking me stupid questions after my DNF in Canada.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh god, I forgot about that. I was so embarrassed afterwards.”

He gently pries your hands away, his eyes shining with admiration. “Don’t be. It was amazing. No one’s ever defended me like that before.”

You shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. “He was being an ass. You didn’t deserve that after the race you had.”

Charles pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See? That’s what I mean. You care. Deeply and fiercely. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You snuggle into his side, reveling in the warmth and safety of his embrace. “You know, it’s funny. I always thought I was happy with Carlos. But being here with you ... it’s making me realize how much I was missing.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Like what?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, for one thing, this. Just sitting and talking, really talking. With Carlos, it always felt like we were just going through the motions, you know? Like we were playing the roles of the perfect couple without really connecting.”

Charles nods, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that. It’s easy to fall into patterns, to stop really seeing each other.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “And it’s not just the big things. It’s the little stuff too. Like ...” You pause, a memory suddenly surfacing. “Oh! Like the flowers.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Flowers?”

You sit up, turning to face him. “Yeah. Carlos always sent me these huge bouquets of red roses. Which, don’t get me wrong, were beautiful. But ...”

“But they’re not your favorite,” Charles finishes for you.

You blink in surprise. “How did you know that?”

He grins, looking a bit bashful. “Remember that charity gala in Milan last year? You spent at least ten minutes gushing over the centerpieces.”

You gasp, the memory flooding back. “The peonies! Oh my god, Charles, how do you remember these things?”

He shrugs, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Like I said, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you.”

You feel your heart swell with affection. “Well, Mr. Attentive, what else have you noticed about me?”

Charles pretends to think hard, tapping his chin dramatically. “Let’s see ... I know you prefer your coffee with just a splash of milk, no sugar. You always double-knot your shoelaces before a run. Oh, and you have a secret obsession with cheesy 80s power ballads.”

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Okay, now I know you’re making things up. There’s no way you could know about my power ballad addiction.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh really? So if I were to start singing Total Eclipse of the Heart, you wouldn’t immediately join in?”

Your jaw drops. “How ... how did you ...”

Charles grins triumphantly. “Team karaoke night in Singapore. You thought everyone was too drunk to remember, but I wasn’t as far gone as I let on.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

He gently pries your hands away, his expression soft and sincere. “Hey, no hiding. I loved it. You were so free, so happy. It was beautiful to watch.”

You feel tears prickling at your eyes again, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. “Charles ...”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that have escaped. “Y/N, I want you to know that I see you. All of you. The good, the bad, the silly, the serious. And I love every part of it.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “I’m starting to see you too, Charles. And I ... I think I might be falling in love with what I see.”

His face lights up with joy, and he pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless and grinning.

“So,” Charles says, his voice low and husky, “what do you say we order some room service? I’m thinking ... chocolate lava cake for dessert?”

You gasp in delight. “How did you know that’s my favorite?”

He winks, reaching for the room service menu. “I told you, mon cœur. I pay attention.”

As Charles calls down to place the order, you lean back against the sofa, a contented smile playing on your lips. You can’t help but marvel at how different this feels from your relationship with Carlos. With Charles, you feel seen, heard, understood in a way you never have before.

When he hangs up the phone and rejoins you on the sofa, you curl into his side, feeling perfectly at home in his arms. As the night deepens around you, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen kisses, you know that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. With Charles, you’re not just being loved — you’re being cherished, appreciated for every little thing that makes you who you are.

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms later that night, the taste of chocolate and Prosecco still lingering on your lips, you can’t help but feel that you’ve finally found where you truly belong.

***

Carlos stands at the edge of the pit lane, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. You and Charles are huddled together by the Ferrari garage, laughing and talking animatedly. The sight sends a sharp pang through Carlos’ chest, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and regret swirling in his gut.

He watches as Charles leans in, whispering something in your ear that makes you throw your head back in laughter. Carlos grits his teeth, remembering a time when he was the one to make you laugh like that.

“They look happy, don’t they?” A voice says beside him.

Carlos turns to see Lando standing there, a sympathetic look on his face. “What do you want?” Carlos growls, not in the mood for conversation.

Lando holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking on you, mate. I know this can’t be easy to watch.”

Carlos scoffs, turning his attention back to you and Charles. “I’m fine. It’s not like I care what she does anymore.”

Even as he says the words, Carlos knows they’re a lie. He does care. He cares so much it feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside.

He watches as Charles pulls out a small package from his pocket, handing it to you with a flourish. Your eyes light up as you unwrap it, revealing what looks like a bag of candy.

“What’s that about?” Carlos mutters, more to himself than to Lando.

Lando squints, trying to get a better look. “Looks like ... gummy bears? Huh, I didn’t know Y/N liked those.”

Carlos feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She doesn’t,” he says automatically. But even as the words leave his mouth, he sees the way you’re beaming at Charles, popping a gummy bear into your mouth with evident delight.

“You sure about that?” Lando asks, raising an eyebrow.

Carlos doesn’t respond, his mind racing. How had he never known you liked gummy bears? Had you ever mentioned it? Had he ever bothered to ask?

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laughter again. Charles is holding out his phone, showing you something on the screen. As you lean in to look, Charles’ arm slips around your waist, pulling you close.

Carlos feels his hands clench into fists at his sides. He wants to look away, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes from the scene.

“You know,” Lando says carefully, “maybe you should talk to them. Clear the air.”

Carlos shakes his head vehemently. “There’s nothing to talk about. She made her choice.”

Lando sighs. “Look, mate, I know you’re hurting. But-”

“But nothing,” Carlos snaps. “Just drop it.”

Lando holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m here if you need to talk, though.”

As Lando walks away, Carlos continues to watch you and Charles. He sees the way Charles’ hand rests on the small of your back, the way you lean into him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, Charles looks up, his eyes meeting Carlos’ across the paddock. For a moment, they just stare at each other, an unspoken tension crackling between them. Then, to Carlos’ surprise, Charles says something to you and starts making his way over.

Carlos straightens, steeling himself for the confrontation. As Charles approaches, he can see you watching anxiously from a distance.

“Carlos,” Charles says, his voice cautious. “Can we talk?”

Carlos crosses his arms, his jaw clenched. “What’s there to talk about?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this situation is ... complicated. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Hurt me? You stole my girlfriend. How did you think that was going to make me feel?”

Charles shakes his head. “I didn’t steal anyone. Y/N made her own choice.”

“Right,” Carlos spits. “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. “I won’t deny that I had feelings for Y/N for a long time. But I never acted on them while you were together. Never.”

Carlos scoffs. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Carlos, please,” Charles says, his voice softening. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But can’t you see how happy she is?”

Carlos’ eyes flick back to you, standing by the garage and watching them anxiously. He hates to admit it, but you do look happy. Happier than he can remember seeing you in a long time.

“She was happy with me,” Carlos insists, but the words sound hollow even to his own ears.

Charles gives him a sad smile. “Was she? Really? Because from what she’s told me, there were a lot of things you never noticed about her.”

Carlos feels a flare of anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Charles says carefully, “that sometimes we take the people we love for granted. We stop seeing them, really seeing them.”

Carlos wants to argue, to defend himself, but he finds the words sticking in his throat. Because deep down, he knows Charles is right.

“Did you know,” Charles continues, his voice gentle, “that her favorite flowers are pink peonies? Not red roses?”

Carlos blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

Charles nods. “Or that she prefers Prosecco to cava? Or that she has a secret addiction to 80s power ballads?”

With each revelation, Carlos feels like he’s being hit with a fresh wave of regret. How had he missed all of these things? How had he failed to notice what made you, you?

“I ...” Carlos starts, then stops, unsure of what to say.

Charles puts a hand on his shoulder, the gesture surprisingly kind given the circumstances. “I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I’m telling you because I want you to understand. Y/N deserves to be with someone who sees her, who appreciates every little thing about her.”

Carlos nods slowly, the fight draining out of him. “And that someone is you?”

Charles smiles softly. “I hope so. I’m certainly trying to be.”

They stand in silence for a moment, both looking over at you. You’re still watching them anxiously, clearly worried about what they might be saying to each other.

Finally, Carlos speaks, his voice rough with emotion. “Just ... just promise me you’ll treat her right. Better than I did.”

Charles nods solemnly. “I promise. With everything I have.”

As Charles turns to walk back to you, Carlos calls out, “Charles?”

Charles pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Carlos says quietly. “For loving her the way she deserves.”

Charles gives him a small, understanding smile before continuing on his way. Carlos watches as he returns to you, sees the way your face lights up as Charles pulls you into a comforting embrace.

As he turns to walk away, Carlos feels a mix of emotions swirling inside him. There’s still pain, still regret, but there’s also a glimmer of something else. Something that feels a lot like acceptance.

He realizes now that he had taken you for granted, had failed to see the beautiful, complex person you truly were. And while it hurts to admit it, he knows that Charles sees all of that and more.

As he makes his way back to his own garage, Carlos makes a silent promise to himself. To pay more attention, to really see the people in his life. Because he never wants to make the same mistake again, never wants to lose someone else because he failed to appreciate them.

And as he glances back one last time, seeing you and Charles walking hand-in-hand, laughing and lost in your own world, Carlos feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

It’s not easy, and it still hurts, but he knows now that this is how it should be. You deserve to be with someone who knows you, truly knows you, inside and out.

And as much as it pains him to admit it, that someone isn’t him. It’s Charles.

With a deep breath, Carlos turns away, ready to face whatever comes next. He’s lost you, but in doing so, he’s gained a valuable lesson. One he won’t soon forget.

[witches-dream]

Imagine you have a son, and he's growing very disciplined, which is good, but he's very introverted, not really in a shut-in kinda way, he just seems very unapproachable to people, and he is, because he's just so serious all the time. Like you look at him and, yeah, he's gonna be great warrior, but you also wish that he could. Socialize a little?

So your son grows up and leaves to fulfill some kinda grand goal and you're like "ok, son", still kinda worried about him, but he's not your baby anymore, he can do what he wants. So he leaves and after a few days you hear this earth-shattering lightning strike, no storm before or after or anything, everybody is wondering what happened and if you'll all die soon. Nothing happens past that, actually, it feels strangely peaceful. So after a few days your son comes back and he doesn't look any different, but he has definitely changed in like a week or two that he was gone. So he says "father, I have defeated the black and white dragons". You're kinda shocked, but that explains the lightning strike and how everything went quiet after it, and your son is not one to lie, so you you say "oh, for real? neat". "They are not going to bother anyone anymore." Your son says in a solemn tone. Later, everyone celebrates but he doesn't come. You knock into his room, and, even through a closed door, you can feel some sort of power, warmth radiating from it. He opens the door and his sword looks... Different. First of all, it's much bigger. It has a completely different shape. And there's this... Purple gem on its handle and it's glowing brightly. Nobody in this village could've forged such an otherworldly masterpiece. So you ask "got a new sword, son?" He says "Yeah. It's a Soul Jam, actually." "A Soul Jam? Never heard of it." "I will tell you later."

He reluctantly agrees to join the celebration, but after a few weeks he leaves the village. He starts building a citadel, and walling off the coast of the Licorice Sea. People are already calling him Your Majesty, though he's slow on accepting that title. Many decades pass and you're so old you can't get out of the house on your own anymore. Your son visits and he looks the exact same as when he left. He takes care of you, with the same cold face he's always had, though his hands are warm and him just being there warms your heart. You strain your old and tired vocal cords to utter "I'm proud of you, son." He's silent, but he nods, and his long hair obscures his face, but you can imagine he's happy to hear that.

It's after you die that he accepts the throne, and the title of King that was decided by the people whose respect for him towered the mountains. And, as it turns out, your son is immortal now. And, through the years, through the decades and centuries and even millennia, he takes the utmost care of all his subordinates, he remembers every face of his every warrior and he etches out their names and immortalizes them and prays to them each day.

Your son does many great things, many heroic deeds. He defends the kingdom he founded with a resolution of a true warrior. Your son made friends. There's only four of them, they are heroes of their own lands just like him, so they're busy most of the time, but they go on adventures and they have fun once a couple of centuries. Your son also makes many mistakes, says things he deeply regrets. He has a son, and, even being thousands of years old, he still thinks of you and wishes he could be even half as great a father as you were.

Maybe sometimes your son wishes you were around to lend a word of advice, or to say "I'm proud of you" one more time. Other times, he's ashamed of a thought that you might be out there somewhere, watching him from the heavens and shaking your head in disapproval. You have no way of telling him you love him either way, with all his virtues and all his vices alike. What matters is that, in the end, your son overcomes all adversities and becomes a better person. He was given a unique chance in life: to have infinite time to learn, and he uses all that time to become a better person.

You have no regrets. You can rest peacefully, knowing you have raised a hero.

[liyatime]

“ spread your legs ” . . | ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ (enjoy!)

📷 pairing ; mark lee x tm!reader

📷 genre ; smut

📷 cw ; male x transmale/cuntboy intercourse , cursing , kissing , cunnilingus , fingering , c in v sex , vaginal descriptions , raw sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

mark lee , one of the smartest kids on your college campus not only happened to be a top student but he was also your boyfriend of a strong 3 years.

he spoils you so much you dont even know it like buying your lunches for you , paying for your dorm rent , and all around spending a ton of money on you. mark also spoils you by taking you on car rides , he drives you multiple places without asking for gas money and often takes you on trips , like today. he called you out to the parking lot during a fairly busy day saying that he wanted to eat out with you.

you walked out the college building with your tote bag on your shoulder that was filled to the brim with books and your laptop. you were on your phone looking for places nearby to eat at when you looked up and saw mark’s navy blue hooded convertible and him waving at you.

you did a light jog towards his car and leaned onto it giving him a peck on the lips. “i didn’t bother you? calling you out of class like this?” he asked unlocking the car. you walked around to the passenger side and got in , “not at all , i’d tell you if it was a problem. honestly i’m kinda glad i got out of there.” you said smiling. he smiled back and started up the car , “i found a place already, it’s not far from here.” mark said , backing up his car and getting on the road.

on the way to the place mark picked out you guys joked around and laughed , talked about school stuff (which was honestly kind of boring) and listened to music. both your music tastes were diverse but you guys enjoyed critiquing each others choices. you guys also looked at the menu of the place and decided ahead of time what you guys should order , most of the options looked delicious but what matters is how it tasted , mark's the only person who's been here before so he told you to wait and that it'd be a surprise.

the both of you soon arrived at a restaurant-type establishment , with the awkward name of it that you couldn't pronounce it must've been french or italian or something.. but before you could step out of the car mark grabbed your hand and locked the doors , "hold on.. i gotta tell you something," he paused and put his fist over his mouth before trying to explain "— i actually brought you here for something else." he said with nervousness in his voice , "you know we haven't been able to like.. do it because were busy , so i brought you to this uh.. place , because if we did it on the college campus a lot of people would find out and i really wanted to try car sex and i didnt know how to tell you and like—" "mark. it's fine , you could've just told me." you said laughing, "you're such a nervous wreck when it comes to sex like we haven't done it before , but in a car? im excited." you said.

"so this is okay? You're right though , i should've just told you.." mark facepalmed. "I told you its fine mark , if anything you made me really horny , having sex in a parking lot feels exciting." he blushed at your words. "really?" "yeah!" you replied "we should.. get in the backseat then right?" he asked. "yeah.." you two were awkward about this , but mostly mark because he thought you'd think he was weird and gross for wanting to have sex in public and tell everyone on campus , so now that you admitted it made you horny he got excited and was ready to fuck you so bad. mark and you lowered the front seats forward so you'd have more room in the back and then hopped in , immediately jumping to making out.

mark ran his hands all over your body , but he was OBSESSED with your waist , he loved holding it especially when he felt jealous or possessive. you smiled as you kissed him. you both slowly moved into a laying position as he unbuckled your belt and unbuttoned your jeans to gain access to your pussy through your boxers. he threw your jeans on the center console along with your belt and and began rubbing your clit through your boxers , feeling how wet you've gotten in the past minute. you moaned and held onto the door behind you , "fuckkk..." you stretched out the word at the feeling of him toying with you , slightly lifting your hips. he soon removed your boxers and looked at the color of your pussy , admiring how it looked when it was soaked in your juices. he placed his hands at the back of your knees and pressed your legs to your chest then licked a stripe up your cunt and placed a wet kiss onto your clit.

you cried out in pleasure. whenever mark ate you out it was amazing , you're the first partner he's ever had with a vagina but he knew exactly what to do. he must've been studying up for your sake. top student on campus , top student at eating pussy. "is this good?" he said , rubbing his thumb up and down your folds. "yeah.. keep going.." you responded out of breath from moaning. mark reached over to his glove box in the front and pulled out a packet of lube , ripping it open with his teeth and spreading it all over your cunt and his fingers. "take a deep breath (m/n).." he said , sliding his middle finger into you slowly and thrusting it in and out. you threw your head back and gripped the door handle , moaning out your boyfriends name and whimpering. "it's alright baby , i got you." he said , leaning over and giving a tender kiss in which you melted into.

mark inserted a second finger into your sopping cunt , "you're so fucking wet.." he said before dipping down and having a make out session with your clit , running his tongue over it and flicking it with his tongue. "mark im gonna cum.." you said biting your lip and putting your hand in his hair. this only made him suck on your clit harder and faster. you couldn't take the pleasure anymore and came so hard , a clear liquid shot out your pussy and onto mark's face and seats. he slid his two fingers side to side on your cunt as you let loose and immediately went back to eating you out. you were so sensitive and he was so hungry.

mark lifted his head back up and started unbuckling his belt and discarding it , taking the rest of the lube in the packet and spreading it all over his cock. he looked at you like he was a fox and you were the rabbit he couldn't wait to devour , his cheeks were red and he was sweating from his forehead. he slid his cock over your clit and between your folds and gave you a hard kiss , rubbing his tongue against yours and pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth. "mark.." you said , reaching your hand forward and rubbing his cock again your entrance. he smirked and took his cock , slowly sliding it into your entrance. your eyes rolled back but before you could let out a moan he took it out teasingly. you honestly werent having it. "put it in..!" you said , rubbing your clit and looking into his eyes. he laughed and inserted his tip back into your cunt , doing this a couple more times until he snapped his hips against yours and started thrusting into you at a fast pace.

mark replaced your fingers rubbing your clit with his thumb as you moaned his name and let out a whimper each time his hips met yours. the only noises in the car were grunting and the sound of skin slapping against skin. "fuckkk (m/n).." he groaned. he watched as your eyes rolled back into your head and you lifted your hips up so his thrusts were angled directly towards your prostate , your head fell onto the car seat and you gripped his arms. "im gonna fucking cum!" you exclaimed. "fuckin' squirt again for me.." mark commanded , after he said that you immediately squirted all over his dick as he pulled out and rubbed your clit. he then put his cock back into your pussy to help you ride out your high. "s..shit.." he stuttered , pulling his dick out and cumming all over your glistening cunt with his mouth wide open. mark was panting and so you , you were both wet and sweaty making the car smell like sex. he'll definitely need to air out the car and buy air fresheners for future purposes.

mark leaned down and made out with you , tracing the sides of your face with his palm and holding you by your waist. "we need to have car sex more often.." he said smiling. you giggled at his joke and held him close , eventually having to let go. "we should go to our dorm and get new clothes.. they're really wet.." you said. "Lets go." he agreed , giving you one last peck on your cheek before putting his soaked clothes back on just for the ride back.

lets hope nobody questions why he smells like that when he walks through the halls.

c/n: HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN I SAID TO PUT OUT! my job has me busy and im still buying furniture for my home , im going for a modern look so i gotta save up and work hard to get what i want!! i noticed i improved in my writing, especially when writing smut because i used to skip the prep parts and it was so bad 😭 . im a virgin so writing smut is a struggle but im always on tumblr so reading others smut fics and studying up on anatomy and how sex like WORKS was a big help to me. i still suck at dialogue but practice makes almost perfect! i hope you guys enjoy this work more than my others, cuz they really suck lol. 💙

[city-tickles]

Two Tickle Sessions In One Day!

Hi!

It's been a while but I hope you are doing well. I am still on break from posting clips or requests but I wanted to let you know about my recent sessions.

A month ago I was in one of those bad tickle moods. One of those moods where it was all you could think about and the rush of getting tickled or tickling someone was intense. I don't get these moods often and usually when I do, I don't like it because the last couple of times that has happened, I've received bad news about someone I care about, so it also makes me a little anxious when I get that way. Thankfully, it did not happen this time.

I needed to get the mood out but there was no one in the area to session with. Since no one was available, I decided to check out two parties that I have not been to in years. One M/M party and one Female Foot Party.

When it comes to M/M, I am 100% lee and it is something that does not give me much if any arousal. It's just tickling, and I can appreciate it. I'm sure I'd appreciate it more if it could "get me there" but I've seen enough clips and done sessions, and it usually doesn't. I also rarely do M/M because I have to be in a mood for it. This time, I was in a big mood for it, so I decided to go.

I've spoken about the M/M party in the past. Last time I went about 8 years ago, I just wasn't comfortable or ready to be there and it seemed like the owner took umbrage with that when I tried to leave. I figured a lot of time has passed and I have gained more experience, so hopefully things would be fine. I explain why I wanted to go to the party, and I was allowed to go.

I entered the party, and as a cis-identifying male, it's a little overwhelming at first. Action (Everyone is clothed) is everywhere right in front of you, but everyone is also very nice and doing their thing. I like to give people space, but there was no space to go, so I was just watching everything go down lol.

While waiting, I was introduced to a guy, who had grey hair and , who was also into tickling and we began talking. At first, the convo was small talk, but then we realized we knew each other from a previous meeting, which made things easier. After some talking, he asked what I was here for and when it comes to males, I am strictly a lee, so I told him I wanted to be tickled. Luckily, a massage table opened up and was cleaned off and ready to be used. We asked the table owner, who was a tall, slender man with grey hair and facial hair, if we could use it. Lucky or not lucky for me, we were allowed but the table owner was also into tickling. They asked me if he could join in and I figured why not?

I laid on the table and decided not to be bound because sometimes I stay still anyway. And before I know it, I have two lers all over me, testing out my spots and trying to find where I am most ticklish. They would glide their fingers all over my sides, under my arms, my tummy, my thighs and of course, my feet while I laughed and didn't move around too much. It was extra sensitive because 1. With the massage chair, I'm mostly looking upwards and can only see the ceiling. And 2. I'm getting teasing from all angles! The two very skilled lers keep saying things like, "Oh, he's real ticklish!" "I think he likes it!" While others at the party are watching and saying things like, "I think he doesn't want it to stop" and "He's having a lot of fun now"

With two lers on me, I never had time to have one spot make me off the wall ticklish because it was always changing. Sometimes it was their fingers lightly tickling my stomach that was the most intense. Other times, it was harder touches on my feet by one of the lers. Sometimes it was an attack under my arms. There were a lot of different moments during the 20-30 minutes of tickling that just kept making me laugh hysterically. I do know at one point, a hairbrush was used because I felt it and that always felt more surprising than ticklish. The other interesting part about having two lers on your feet were both styles were different. One was lighter and the other was harder, but both were effective!

(I couldn't find a MM/M gif)

After my time was done, I thanked them for the session and decided to wrap up since the party was coming to an end anyway. It was time to go to the next party.

This party, which I also had low hopes for, runs all the time in NYC and it is pay-to-play. I was that down bad, that I was willing to do it this evening lol. I went in with very low expectations and the reminder that if the first few moments are bad, I can just leave.

When I got there, it took forever for them to let me in, which already set my expectations to low. Despite this, I walked in and heard laughter already. Someone was getting tickled under the sheets, so I knew I wasn't the only tickler in the area. The girls that I saw in there were nice and chill to talk to for the most part. Some were more personable, while others just wanted to make their money, which I am not upset about. They're not there to be my friend.

The first lee was a tiny girl with red hair, and was ticklish but not that reactionary. I don't think she was ticklish on her feet at all, but I would always ask if it's okay to tickle elsewhere. Thankfully it was, and her upperbody, especially her arms, were her weakspot. She did not seem into it in the slightest, so I tried not to overdo it.

The second lee was this tall, black girl, with long hair and very nice to talk to. She wasn't sure how ticklish she could be, so I would tested some of her spots. Her feet were tolerable, her knees were very sensitive, and under her arms, she was almost unable to do!

I brought some tools that I didn't bring out at the M/M party (my bag at that party was all the way on the other side I just didn't want to bother with it) I ran an ostrich feather up and down her soles and her legs, which felt more relaxing to her. Then, I brought out TicklingDuck's device vibrating device.

As the device touched her soles, she would laugh hard, squirm around, cover her mouth, and was genuinely shocked at something being so ticklish on her. I asked if I could use the device on her knees and she went "Oh no!" and let me do it anyway, which I didn't do for long because she couldn't handle it.

The third lee was another redhead, who was also a nice person to talk to and wearing boots and long socks. I tickled her through the socks first, which made her giggle a bit, before taking them off and scribbling on her toes and soles so more. Her feet were also moderately ticklish, so I asked if I could tickle other parts of her body. Her weakspot was the ribcage and made any other spot look like a 1 compared to them! I spent most of my time on her feet since the ribcage was so intense, but we did play a few games. I would tell her if she could let me tickle there for 10 seconds, she would get a reward, which would be a foot massage or other foot worship. She agreed and barely opened up her arms until I scribbled in there and teased her further, saying "You gotta let me get in there or I'm gonna increase the time" She opened up her ribs and it was the longest 10 seconds of her life. Afterwards, I would congratulate her for making it through and doing such a good job.

After we were finished, I was ready to go since I had an obligation to get to later in the evening, but another taller woman approached me and asked me if I like tickling. She mentioned that she liked tickling to and wanted to know if I wanted to session. I was skeptical at first, because it felt like a money-grab, but I figured I'm already here so why not?

Best decision I made at that party. I started by spider tickling all the way up from her feet to legs, to her sides, across her tummy, back to her ribs, and of course under her arms. This woman was genuinely ticklish everywhere and was a lot of fun to play with. I would caress her thighs and tease like I'm about to tickle there, only to sneak attack and tickle her tummy. I brought out the TicklingDuck device again and we played another counting game to see how long she could last without moving, and I made sure to count the longest 30 seconds I could, running my fingers all across her tummy and under hear arms while she laughed her head off underneath the covers. The last thing I did to her, was bring out the pair of stocks that just arrived. I was itching to try them on someone and she was so excited to see stocks. We locked her bare feet and the stocks and I ran my fingers all across her soles and under her toes, while she was unable to get away or pull them out. While these sessions lasted 10 minutes, this one was definitely longer and we both knew it. After she was done, she complimented my ler skills, saying most male lers are rough, but I was very gentle with her, but also devastating, which I took as a big compliment.

Before I left, I had one request for her. I had a hard time locking the stocks on myself at my home, but when I did, they were not very comfortable. I asked if she could test the stocks out on me to see how good they were. She obliged and got my feet in the stocks. Once I was locked in, she began running her nails across my soles, which was one of the more intense tickles I got all night! I laughed hard and and was unable to do anything else, my feet were trapped and that definitely made the tickling worse! She would tease me and say things like "Aww! Is someone ticklish?" And "Now who's ticklish" until I had to stop her because I really had to get going. I thanked her for the fun time and planned to come back in the future.

Overall, it was a great day of tickles and satisfied my ler and lee moods!

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |2|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Murder and Killing

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

Sam had her head thrown back, trying to calm her nerves as she and Tara waited for Detective Bailey to arrive. When Quinn called her father, he had said he wanted to speak with Sam. He wouldn’t confirm or deny whether the killings on the news were the work of Ghostface, but he wanted her to come down to the station. Tara had refused to let her go alone and Bailey even agreed that he’d like to see Tara as well. They arrived at the police station first thing in the morning and were immediately escorted to an interrogation room, without anyone telling them anything.

Sam finally looked up when she heard the door open, seeing Bailey enter. “Sorry about the wait,” Bailey said, giving them an awkward chuckle.

“What’s this about?” Tara asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

“The killings,” Sam cut in. “Was it Ghostface?”

“We found this,” Bailey said, tossing an evidence bag containing a bloody card onto the table, ignoring both the girls’ questions. “At the crime scene,” Bailey sat in the chair opposite of them. “In which two of your,” he pointed at Tara. “Classmates were murdered. Care to explain?” he shrugged.

Tara leaned forward, her eyes widening at what was in the baggy before she looked back at Sam. Sam furrowed her brow as she took a look as well, her face instantly going white at seeing her ID, covered in blood, and in the evidence bag. “I lost my ID months ago,” Sam mumbled, shaking her head. “I had to get a new one.”

“Why didn’t you report your ID as stolen?”

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” Sam glared at Bailey.

Sam didn’t know detective Bailey too well. She knew he was a homicide detective and when Quinn decided to go to college at Blackmore, he transferred to New York so he could keep an eye on her. Quinn complained about him occasionally, usually saying how overprotective he was, though he did allow Quinn to live on her own with Sam and Tara, even though it would be much cheaper for her to live with him. Bailey always seemed like the typical dad, but Sam wasn’t sure, she saw danger around every corner but the majority of the time it was just her being paranoid.

“Where were you last night?” Bailey asked, getting back to his questioning.

“You can’t seriously think she’s a suspect,” Tara said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” Bailey held his hands up in defense. “Do you have an alibi?” He looked at Sam.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I was at work,” Sam answered. “Then when I came home Chad and I went to the gym, then back to the apartment.”

“And someone can verify this?”

“Lots of people probably,” Sam shrugged. “Your daughter being one of them, she was at the apartment last night.”

“It’s true,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “We were all with someone the entire day. Anything else?”

“Your classmates,” Bailey said, pointing at Tara. “Had a Ghostface shrine, it seems they killed their professor a Ms. Crane.” Tara sucked in a breath, Sam didn’t know her personally, but she had heard Tara and Mindy mention her a few times. “Earlier this evening. Know anything about that?”

“Why would we? I barely talked to them.”

“Are you familiar with a,” Bailey flipped open a file, squinting his eyes at something in the file, “Richie Kirsch?”

Sam couldn’t help the way she shifted in her seat, trying not to react. “He’s my ex,” she answered with a tight-lipped smile. “And he’s dead.”

“Yeah, he and my best friend tried to kill us last year,” Tara snapped. “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Well, it seems these boys,” Bailey said, tapping his fingers on the photos of the two guys killed. “Intended to finish his movie.” Sam and Tara’s faces both fell at those words. “It seems they were working on a plan to kill you two.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” Sam said.

“Right, right,” Bailey mumbled to himself. “So, it’s just a coincidence these two boys end up dead?”

“There are no coincidences when Ghostface is involved.”

“Look,” Tara cut in, seeming frustrated and tired. “Are we under arrest or can we go?”

Bailey looked between the two sisters then down at the photos and evidence bag. Sam held her breath as she waited for his response. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, he still never confirmed if Ghostface was back, and she didn’t know if Bailey suspected her or thought she and Tara were in danger.

“You’re free to go,” Bailey said. “Just don’t leave town,” he gave Sam a look, like he knew she wanted to run.

Tara didn’t hesitate to get up, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. Sam gave Bailey one last glance before following after Tara. They flagged down a cab and Tara gave the guy directions to Blackmore. When Sam furrowed her brow Tara showed her Mindy’s text saying to meet at the school so they could go over suspects before class.

Before she knew it Sam had her head thrown back again, this time as she sat on a bench outside Blackmore College. Everyone was already there when Sam and Tara arrived and since then Mindy had been standing in front of everyone pacing back and forth. Sam just wanted her to get to the point already, she wanted to try and get some sleep before she had to go to work. She knew she wouldn’t get any sleep though; she wasn’t able to sleep last night and there was no way she’d be able to before her shift, not with Ghostface out there.

“Suspects!” Mindy said, finally seeming to get to the point. “With Ghostface, most likely, back we should go over potential people who might want to kill us! Because Bailey clearly won’t be of any help.”

Sam couldn’t help but glance at Quinn. The girl frowned at Mindy’s words but didn’t move to argue with her. Mindy also didn’t bother sparing Quinn a glance, let alone an apology. Sam couldn’t help but frown at Quinn’s reaction, or her lack of reaction. Detective Bailey was Quinn’s father, and she wasn’t saying anything to stick up for him or defend him. Sam wasn’t sure if that alone was suspicious or if Quinn just knew by now there was no point in arguing with Mindy.

“First!” Mindy continued, holding up a finger. “Ethan! The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s just so shy and dorky.”

“I’m a suspect because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?” Ethan questioned, gesturing at Chad awkwardly.

“Roommate lotteries can be fixed,” Mindy rolled her eyes as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. “And second, Quinn!” Mindy turned, smiling at Quinn. “Tara and Sam’s slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.”

“Sex positive,” Quinn corrected. Though she didn’t seem offended by Mindy’s accusation like Ethan had.

“How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?”

“I answered their ad online.”

“No need to say more, you’ve implicated yourself enough!”

“It was an anonymous ad,” Tara said. “And we vetted her.” Sam nodded, she had done incredibly thorough questioning to both Quinn and Bailey when they were interviewing potential roommates. “Plus, her dads a cop.”

“And that makes it more likely!” Mindy gestured wildly. “Cop dad is a great cover! Besides, what are the odds, your dad, would get this case?” Mindy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Quinn.

“How the hell would I know?” Quinn crossed her arms, finally seeming to get annoyed by Mindy.

“And lastly, Anika,” she smiled at her girlfriend. “You aren’t clear either.”

Anika’s face fell. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.

“Sorry babe,” Mindy shrugged. Anika just scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away as she refused to look at Mindy.

“I think that’s all the suspects,” Mindy said, giving herself a little nod of approval.

“And Y/N,” Sam added. Everyone turned to her with raised eyebrows. “What?” Sam shoved her hands in her pockets. “I just think they should be on the list.”

“I thought you said you haven’t ever spoken to them?” Mindy narrowed her eyes.

“I haven’t.”

“Then why would they be a suspect?” Tara questioned, crossing her arms.

“Because we have the same schedule!” Sam tried to reason. “No matter when I go, no matter what day, or what time, they’re there.”

“Suspicious,” Mindy admitted. “Anything else?”

“They have fighting experience. Not sure how much but I’ve seen them train, they definitely know what they’re doing.”

Sam continued to ramble on about you. She told them once again about how similar your schedules seemed, even when it was well after midnight and there was no one else there you’d show up. She talked all about the kind of people you did talk to and how you were otherwise reserved. Then she got into your workout and mentioned how much you lift and how much you focus on either sparring with someone or hitting the punching bag. When Sam was finished revealing all her observations about you, she looked around at the others. Everyone was looking back at her with raised eyebrows, she was going to assume they were just shocked by her keen observation skills.

“They are pretty badass,” Chad added, holding a finger up. “I hate to admit it because they seem so cool,” he let out a little chuckle. “But the way they fought that dude in the ring,” he let out an impressed whistle. “I’d hate to see what they’d do to an enemy.”

Everyone’s face slowly morphed into one of worry. Ethan and Quinn gave each other a look of concern and Tara looked at Sam as if Sam would have a solution to their problem. Sam could only offer her sister a comforting smile, she didn’t know who this new Ghostface was, but she wouldn’t let him hurt Tara.

“Okay, we’ll add them to the list,” Mindy agreed.

Sam nodded. A part of her felt a little guilty for suspecting you of such heinous things when you’ve only ever been nice, but she couldn’t take the risk. She dated Richie for months and he betrayed and used her, she hadn’t even spoken a single word to you. Sam didn’t have a real reason to suspect you, besides the fact that you went to the same gym, which a lot of people went to, but none of them had even close to the same random schedule she did, and she had never seen any of them fight like you could. She hoped you were just the cute stranger from her gym though, and not some psychopath. But she knew her life, there was no way her first crush since Richie was just a normal person that went to her gym, and all the other stuff, the stuff that drew her to you, was just coincidence, she wasn’t that lucky.

After being satisfied with their suspect list everyone went their separate ways with most of them going to class, while Sam went to work. Sam managed to get home and change but didn’t have time for a nap before having to head to her job. She managed to make it to the diner she worked at, just before she had to clock in.

Sam tried to focus on work and not let her mind wander to Ghostface and what was happening. She ignored the way people kept glancing at her, she ignored the articles she saw on their phones when she came to fill their coffee cups, she ignored the way customers bumped into her, spilling their milkshakes, ketchup, and syrup all over her. She ignored it all, she put on her fake smile and apologized to the next person who bumped into her.

Sam glanced at her phone every time she had a spare moment, when she knew, she wouldn’t get caught by her boss. She ordered everyone to text her throughout the day, so she’d know they were okay. She ordered her sister though to text her every fifteen minutes, Tara had rolled her eyes, but she had been doing it, if Sam didn’t hear from Tara within the time frame she would try calling first and then head off to wherever Tara was supposed to be.

When Sam’s shift finally finished, she rushed home, ignoring the way everyone was lounging in the living room once again as she ran to her bedroom. She didn’t have long before she needed to be at her therapy appointment, and she needed to shower and change first. She moved as quick as she could, showering long enough to get rid of the diner smell but not long enough to actually enjoy having the water rain down on her.

“I have therapy tonight,” Sam said as she rushed around the living room, ignoring her still damp hair. “I’ll be back later.” Tara nodded. “Be careful, stay inside, and don’t unlock the door for anyone.” Sam gave all of them a pointed look.

“We know,” Tara sighed. “You be careful too,” she whispered.

Sam smiled at her sister, giving everyone a quick wave goodbye before making her way out the door. She made sure to lock all the locks and double check herself before walking down the stairs. Her neighbor Danny offered her a kind smile, holding the door open for her as he was coming, and she was going. Sam did a quick check of her surroundings before shoving her hands in her pocket and began making her way to her therapy appointment.

Before Sam knew it, she was sitting in her therapist’s office, pulling at her sweater as she refused to look her therapist in the eye. She hadn’t been seeing the woman very long, she was seeing a guy for a while but when he learned her dad was Billy Loomis, he basically stopped being helpful. When Sam found Doctor Williams, Sam had started the first session by telling her all about her father, if this therapist wasn’t going to be helpful either Sam figured she might as well figure it out right away instead of wasting all her time and money.

“We’ve been sitting in silence for twenty minutes,” Doctor Williams said, not looking up from her notepad as she continued to write something down. Sam wasn’t sure what the doctor could be writing considering she had yet to speak. “Your session is only an hour long, if you want to talk,” she glanced at her watch. “You might want to think about starting soon.”

Sam frowned and flicked a glare at Williams. “I met someone,” Sam said, breaking the ice.

“That’s good,” Williams smiled, setting down her notepad and pen. “How has that been?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly talked to them yet.”

“How-How does that work?” Williams furrowed her brow.

“We go to the same gym,” Sam nodded along with her words. She was sure this was probably making her sound even crazier than she already seemed. “We’ve shared looks and a few nods,” Sam smiled to herself

She didn’t miss the small smile still on Williams’s face. “And what’s stopping you from talking to them?”

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the carpet, she pursed her lips, nodding to herself. “I think someone is trying to kill me and my sister again.” She looked up to see William’s staring at her with wide eyes. “And they’re on the suspect list,” Sam gave a little shrug.

Williams opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly trying to process her words. “You think the person you like is trying to kill you?” Williams said slowly.

“Well, not just them, everyone’s a suspect.” Williams nodded unsurely. “I’m not being paranoid,” Sam tried to assure. “At least I don’t think I am,” she shook her head. “Tara always says I’m too paranoid but this time there’s a legitimate reason.”

Sam’s words slowly died down as Doctor Williams raised her hand. “Let’s start from the beginning,” Williams said softly.

Sam swallowed, ringing her hands as she tried to calm her nerves. “There was a murder last night. Two boys in Tara’s class killed their professor.” Williams furrowed her brow. “Then someone murdered them in their apartment.” Williams opened her mouth, but Sam wasn’t done yet. “There’s no proof, but the killings might have been committed by Ghostface.”

“And what makes you think this is Ghostface? Are you sure he’s not just on your mind, it’s around that time of year, no?”

Sam clenched her hands together. “The two students, they were fanatics,” she rolled her eyes. “Fans of Richie apparently. They were planning on killing me and my sister, but someone killed them first.”

“And you think that someone is Ghostface?”

Sam nodded. “Ghostface would never let two kids,” she scoffed. “Take out me and my sister. Not that they could,” she ran a hand through her hair.

Before Doctor Williams could say anything else the timer went off, signaling the end of their session. “See, you next week, I guess.” Sam gave a shy smile as she got up from the couch.

“Wait, I don’t want you to do anything rash,” Williams rushed, following behind her but Sam was already out the door.

Sam checked her surroundings once again as she exited the building. She began her walk back to the apartment. When she got back to the apartment, she saw everyone still in the living room. “We got pizza,” Tara said, nodding to the box on the table. Sam snapped a glare at her sister as she dropped her keys into the bowl by the door. “Anika went to pick it up,” Tara held up her hands, but Sam didn’t miss the eyeroll.

Sam sighed, shaking her head at her sister as she made her way to her room. She got ready for bed, but her mind wouldn’t stop. She kept thinking about the killings, about Ghostface potentially being back, and who they could trust.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998

[elysiaheaven]

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿..? -𝟯𝟬-(The Fox's Wedding)-End ?

The day came when you were supposed to be discharged. The room was quiet, the air still, when Bailu entered, her small figure barely making a sound. She approached your bed, eyes bright with hope. "Are you awake?" she whispered, peering closely at you.

But before she could get a proper answer, your instincts took over. Panic swelled within you, and without thinking, you tore yourself from the bed and ran. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you couldn’t stay. Not like this.

Later, Feixiao received word that you had disappeared. She listened carefully as the messenger explained what had happened, her expression calm yet unreadable. "So, she ran away again…" She leaned back, arms crossed, her eyes narrowing in thought.

One of the knights beside her shifted uneasily. "Should we send someone after her, General?"

Feixiao shook her head slowly, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "No… let her be for now. Y/N needs to decide what she wants for herself today. Maybe this is her way of finding her answer."

She gazed out of the window, her mind heavy with concern but understanding. "Sometimes, people need to run before they can face the truth."

Jiaoqiu sat in his recovery bed, the faint light from the window barely making a difference to his sightless eyes. His once sharp gaze was now a thing of the past, but his other senses were heightened. He could feel every shift in the air, hear the softest rustle of the leaves, and, more importantly, he could sense the emptiness in the room—your absence.

Rayne had just delivered the news, her voice hesitant, as if she were unsure how to tell him that you had run away.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, weary smile forming on his lips. “Such a devious little kitsune…” he said, his voice low but filled with a strange affection. “Always slipping through fingers like sand.”

His hand lifted to his face, tracing the bandages over his eyes. Even though he couldn’t see, he felt you in his mind, as if you were still lingering close, as if you were just out of reach. He knew you ran because you were scared, perhaps even ashamed. But he didn’t blame you. How could he? He understood the pain you carried, the burden of your existence.

“You’ll come back to me,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a certain patience, as if he had all the time in the world. “It will take time… but you will.”

He leaned back into the bed, sighing deeply. There was no rush. He had been through so much already, and so had you. You were both scarred in ways no one could truly understand, but he wasn’t worried. You would return, as you always did, like a fox returning to its den.

“Feixiao tells me you’re healing… slowly, but surely,” Jiaoqiu continued, as though speaking to you directly, despite the distance between you. “Maybe you’re out there… running, hiding. But I know you’re trying to find yourself.”

He smiled again, the expression soft but full of understanding. “I’ll wait. We still have time.”

He rested, his thoughts wandered to the letter you had written, the words you had left for him. He had not been able to read them himself, but he had heard them—your voice, so full of emotion, so full of something he couldn’t quite place. He clung to those words, knowing that they were his connection to you, a promise yet to be fulfilled.

“Come back when you’re ready,” he whispered, closing his eyes, sinking deeper into the quiet darkness. “We still have so much to say… and so much more to live for.”

A few days passed.....

It was confirmed...Jiaoqiu's eyesight can't be cured. Even if it's cured it would be only temporary plus, these are not advised for long-term species..

And he was unfortunately a foxian.

Feixiao met him, As he was hearing the sound of waves to...give him her promise.

An eye for a eye.

Jiaoqiu's mind was filled with something else too.

You.

"General, Can you..tell about her...medical report?"

She hesitated but Jiaoqiu wanted to know everything in full detail.

Feixiao read from the health report, her voice growing heavier with each passing line. She described the extensive damage: deep cuts, wounds that had left marks of immense suffering. Each detail was a testament to the severity of the injuries and the relentless pain endured. The gravity of her words was clear, each one weighed down by her sorrow.

When she reached the section detailing the poison, Feixiao’s voice faltered. The report spoke of the poison’s cruel effect—how it slowly and painfully ravaged the patient’s insides. Feixiao’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her distress palpable as she continued, her voice quaking with the weight of the revelation.

Jiaoqiu's reaction was immediate. His hand went to his head, clutching it as if to steady himself against the crushing realization. The poison’s grim effects had struck him deeply. He looked away, unable to confront the full reality of what Feixiao was revealing.

In the silence that followed, Jiaoqiu asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper, "Did she really take poison too?" The question hung heavily in the air, laden with disbelief and despair. His gaze was distant, lost in a maelstrom of regret and sorrow.

He then turned further away, his expression one of profound self-reproach. His internal struggle was evident, and he questioned in a choked voice, "What kind of man am I?" The question was a desperate plea for understanding, a reflection of his deep-seated remorse over the suffering that had unfolded.

Feixiao's heart ached as she watched Jiaoqiu struggle with the weight of guilt. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her.

"It wasn't your fault, Jiaoqiu. None of this is on you." She tried to offer him comfort, to lift the heavy burden he was placing upon himself. Her words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Jiaoqiu remained silent for a long moment, his hands still cradling his head, eyes closed as though blocking out the reality of the situation. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with weariness. "I… I just need to be alone right now, Feixiao. Please." The words came out strained, each syllable laced with exhaustion, as if he had fought this battle a thousand times within himself.

Feixiao hesitated, torn between leaving him to his thoughts and staying by his side. "We haven't found her yet…" she said quietly, her eyes searching for any sign that he had heard her. "But I know she’s out there… watching, somewhere. Stalking. Always watching."

Unbeknownst to them, you were indeed there, lurking in the shadows, watching the entire exchange unfold. Your gaze remained fixed on Jiaoqiu, your heart caught in the same torment that haunted him. Every word, every movement was etched into your mind as you observed from afar, torn between the urge to reveal yourself and the need to remain hidden.

You kept your distance, carefully avoiding being seen, yet your presence lingered like a specter in the background. Watching. Waiting. Stalking.

You couldn’t stay away any longer. Each step forward, though painful, pulled you closer to him. Even though Jiaoqiu could no longer see, he recognized you instantly—your uneven footsteps, the way you groaned quietly with every step, the sound of your labored breathing. It was as if his senses had adjusted to your presence, like he could feel you coming before you even got close.

"You… Where were you?" His voice was soft, heavy with relief, yet tinged with an unspoken worry.

You hesitated for a moment, standing just a few feet away. The pain in your body was nothing compared to the turmoil inside your heart. "I… I couldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice trembling. You started to turn away, wanting to retreat back into the shadows, but before you could take another step, Jiaoqiu’s voice stopped you.

"I’m glad you’re alive," he said, his voice steady, though laced with a sadness that broke you. "But… I was a mistake." His words came out in a breathless sigh. "I promised to protect you, to take care of you, and now look at me. I’m blind… I can’t do anything for you anymore. I can't even look at you to see if you're alright."

He held his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair in frustration. "If I’m such a mistake… if I’m so ugly in your eyes now…Is that why haven’t you hugged me yet?" His voice cracked on the last few words, a vulnerability in his tone that shook you to your core.

That was all it took to break the dam inside you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you rushed toward him, wrapping your arms around him from behind. You buried your face into his shoulder, sobbing as you clung to him tightly. "Jiaoqiu… I love you," you cried, your words coming out between broken breaths. "I love you… I always have."

Jiaoqiu froze for a moment, as if stunned by your words, before slowly relaxing into your embrace. His hands reached up to touch yours, holding them gently. Even though he couldn’t see, it felt...connected.

You backed away slowly, your hands slipping from his grasp. The warmth of your touch left him, and Jiaoqiu, sensing the sudden absence, whispered desperately, "Without your touch..." His hand reached out blindly, trying to pull you back toward him, but you stepped farther away.

"No!" you screamed, your voice filled with anguish. "It's because of me you ended up blind!" You held your head in your hands, trembling, overwhelmed by guilt. Every part of you ached, not just from your wounds but from the weight of what you believed you had caused.

"Stop blaming yourself," Jiaoqiu’s voice broke through the air, filled with pain, but there was something firm in his tone. "It’s not your fault."

But his words couldn’t reach you. Your mind was spiraling, consumed by the idea that you had ruined him. "No, no, no," you murmured, rocking slightly as tears streamed down your face. And then, suddenly, an idea formed—a desperate, wild idea. You gasped, clutching your chest.

"Jiaoqiu," you cried out, your voice frantic, almost manic. "There’s still time! You can heal yourself... It's not over yet!" Your eyes widened with a twisted kind of hope. "There's still one more day... one more day before the 20 days are up. I’ll ask Feixiao... I’ll ask her to kill me. If she feeds my soul to you, you’ll live! You’ll be healed... You’ll eat again, see again, heal others again!"

You were smiling now, even as tears continued to flow. The idea seemed like salvation, a way to undo the damage, to give him back everything he had lost. You rambled on, the words spilling out as if they were your last lifeline.

Jiaoqiu remained silent, his face unreadable. His lips parted slightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and cutting. "You really are the goddess of betrayal," he said, almost bitterly, shaking his head. "You’d sacrifice yourself without even asking... And you think I’d accept that?"

You froze, staring at him through tear-blurred eyes, not understanding, not comprehending why he was rejecting your plan. "But... you could be whole again," you whispered, almost pleading. "You could—"

"Is that what you think I want?" Jiaoqiu interrupted, turning his face away from you, his expression distant, filled with sorrow. "What did you see when you decided I would want to devour the person I love...?"

Your voice cracked as you asked, painfully, "Why are you doing this?" The confusion in your eyes was unbearable, but the weight of his words lingered heavily in the air. "What do you mean by calling me the goddess of betrayal? Am I really that…?"

He sighed deeply, his face filled with sorrow, but he stood firm. "Yes," he said quietly, almost like a whisper, "you are… but not in the way you think."

"Stop," you pleaded, shaking your head, unable to bear the truth behind his words. "Please… stop."

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. "How long are you going to keep betraying yourself?" Jiaoqiu’s voice rose, but it wasn’t out of anger—it was pain. "Your feelings, everything you are… you're betraying it all."

His words struck deep, and you staggered back, trembling. "I'm not… I'm just trying to fix things!" you cried out. But Jiaoqiu’s expression softened into something unbearably sad as he stepped closer to you.

"And if you keep doing this…" he paused, his voice thick with emotion, "you're not just betraying yourself… you’re betraying everyone around you."

He closed the distance between you, and his hand reached for yours, even though he couldn’t see. "Do you really want me to live in agony? To know that the last thing I ever saw was you… in a bloodied, broken version of yourself?"

You couldn’t answer. You felt the weight of his words crushing you.

"I would rather be blind," he continued, his voice now softer, full of a resigned tenderness, "and just listen to you—hear your voice, your heart—than live knowing that you died… for me."

His words shattered you. You choked back a sob, realizing how deeply he felt for you, how much he didn’t want to see you gone. You collapsed, your legs giving out beneath you as tears fell harder than ever. All this time, you had thought sacrificing yourself was the answer, but in his eyes, it was the ultimate betrayal. You hadn’t just betrayed him—you had betrayed the love that still existed between you.

Jiaoqiu knelt beside you, reaching blindly for your trembling form. He pulled you into an embrace, resting his head against yours as you cried into his shoulder. "Please… don't leave me," he whispered, the pain in his voice cutting through every other sound. "I don’t need you to heal me, Y/n… I just need you."

Jiaoqiu, holding you close, felt the weight of your despair. His voice, strained and gentle, broke through the turmoil of your thoughts. "Why do you want to die?" he asked, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on your shoulders. "Tell me."

You sobbed, trying to make sense of the pain and guilt that overwhelmed you. "I killed everyone who trusted me," you cried out. "I couldn't save them. I couldn’t be useful. I couldn't be of any help to anyone."

Jiaoqiu’s grip tightened, his breath hitching as he fought against his own rising anguish. "Stop wanting to die," he pleaded softly. "You deserve to live. More than those who tormented you, more than those who hurt you."

Your cries grew more desperate, your voice raw with emotion. "I'm a mistake. Look at yourself—you're in such a worse state because of me. It's all my fault. I made a mistake, and it’s eating me alive."

Jiaoqiu's expression hardened with determination. "No," he said firmly. "You didn’t do anything wrong. This was my fault, not yours."

He pulled you into a tighter embrace, as if trying to shield you from the weight of your guilt. "You need to understand," he said softly, "if you want to pass away, I will respect that decision. But if there is still a part of you that wants to live…"

He paused, his voice breaking as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was tender, full of unspoken promises and shared pain. When he pulled away, his eyes, though blind, seemed to see into the depths of your soul.

"In that case," he whispered, his voice gentle and filled with hope, "will you still consider living? Will you marry me? Let’s have a proper wedding this time. A good one."

Your tears mingled with his, you gently pressed your forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. The intensity of your emotions was palpable, and you took a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

"Jiaoqiu," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion, "if you want to get married, you have to let me take care of you. I need to be there for you, to heal you."

His face a mix of pain and tenderness. "But I might be a chore," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the gravity of the situation.

You couldn’t help but let out a gentle laugh, a sound filled with both sadness and relief. "We’re both stubborn," you said, your voice breaking slightly as you continued, "neither of us wants to accept help because we don’t want to be a burden. But maybe… that’s why we’re perfect for each other."

You leaned in and kissed him tenderly, your lips brushing against his with a mixture of love and sorrow. As you pulled back, you saw his ears perk up, his expression softening as he took in your words.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered, your voice filled with both resolve and affection. "If you let me, we can get married. Let's heal together..."

Jiaoqiu’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both took in the moment. The weight of your shared struggles seemed to lift slightly as you embraced, the two of you finding solace in each other’s presence.

You nuzzled closer to Jiaoqiu, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with nervous joy. "Am I still your wife?"

A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yes," he replied softly, his voice warm and full of affection.

Overwhelmed, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, holding him as if you’d never let go. The love you both shared felt even more profound now, having weathered the storm of suffering, and found each other again.

With a newfound determination, you tried to stand up, eager to move forward—quite literally—with him. But your legs, still weak from all you had endured, betrayed you, and you wobbled. Jiaoqiu instinctively reached out to catch you, but with his sight gone, he too lost his balance. Both of you fell, landing in a gentle, tangled heap on the ground.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, you both started to laugh, soft chuckles at first, then louder, more genuine. It was a release, a shared understanding of how far you'd come, even if the path ahead was still fraught with obstacles.

"We have a long time to practice, don’t we?" you said, your voice filled with lightness despite the gravity of the moment.

Jiaoqiu smiled, nodding slightly. "Yes, we do. But we’ll get there."

You leaned forward, a playful glint in your tear-stained eyes. "There’s nothing that would make me happier than helping you. It’s my turn now, Jiaoqiu." Your words held a tenderness, a love that ran deeper than any trial you had faced.

You caught his hand in yours, guiding his fingers through your touch, your warmth. You stood, determination in every step, and turned to face him. "Trust me," you said, your voice steady, full of conviction.

Jiaoqiu hesitated for only a moment, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. Then, he nodded, his trust in you complete, his heart open.

Slowly, you led him forward, his steps unsure at first, but with each movement, you both found a rhythm. There was no rush. The road ahead was long, but you were walking it together. You smiled, knowing that now you had the time—time to heal, time to love, and time to rebuild a future where you could both finally find peace.

Bailu carefully wrapped bandages around you, her gentle touch contrasted with the sharp pain you felt. Each layer was a reminder of your struggles, but also of your resilience. The bandages covered your neck, arms, and feet, a protective cocoon that made you feel both vulnerable and strong.

Once she finished, you donned your kimono, the fabric soft against your bandaged skin, a symbol of renewal and hope. You glanced at Jiaoqiu, who stood beside you, his expression calm but filled with unspoken worries.

"Shall we both seek the road of love we lost sight of?" you asked, your voice steady and inviting.

His lips curled into a small smile, one that filled your heart with warmth. "Sounds like a plan," he replied, his voice laced with determination.

Taking his hand, you guided him gently, your fingers interlocking like a promise. With each step, you could feel the bond between you strengthening, a thread woven from shared pain and healing.

Together, you made your way out of the hospital, stepping into the world that awaited you. The sun greeted you, its light filtering through the trees, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

You walked side by side, you whispered, "No more shadows, only the path ahead." Jiaoqiu nodded, and you could sense the hope in his heart, echoing your own.

together..

[sunnyaalisse]

Wanna know how to manage anxiety effectively? (I'm a psychologist) Formulate your anxious thoughts in a form of "What Will I Do if X happens?" and then answer as best as you can. You will find that there are 4 main types of situations your anxiety might be asking about: 1) nonsensical, unlikely, useless (WWID if I get kidnapped by a UFO?) 2) rational, predictable (WWID if I get a bad grade?) 3) rational, unpredictable (WWID if I go to a new job and something bad happens?) 4) unpredictable and uncontrolled (WWID if I get attacked on my way home?) Here's how to deal with each type: 1) unlikely, useless, nonsensical? answer it like the person who's asking you this question is a 13 year old child who's trying to annoy you. "that would suck, Timmy, but it sure would make a cool story that I would tell to anybody who would listen if I survived" 2) rational, predictable? make a date with this question. find time to sit down and legitimately think of a plan on what you're going to do. "I'll go talk to the teacher, ask what I can do to improve my grade, then I'll talk to my friends and ask them to explain the topic to me, then I'll talk to my parents and explain the situation if they're interested in hearing about it" 3) rational, unpredictable? you don't have to answer it in a detailed way, just decide on the first few things you will realistically do in any sort of distressful situation. "I'll call my friend and tell them about my situation, then I'll buy myself some ice-cream and figure out my next steps with the help of relevant people, google and determination." 4) uncontrolled? plan for what happens after the part you can't control, once you're in charge again. "I'll call the police, I know where the nearest hospital is, I have my friend's numbers memorised so I'll call them, either way I'll deal with whatever happens once I'm in control" anxiety related to the events that already happened (I said "you too" to the waiter who said "have a good meal") truly means to ask about either the consequences (what if now they think I'm dumb?) or the repeating of the situation (what if I do it again?). you can still reformulate these questions the same way: "WWID if they treat me like I'm stupid next time I'm there?" and "WWID if I say the same thing again, how can I make it charming?" or "WWID to avoid repeating the same situation again, what can I say instead?" anxiety is a mechanism that means to fill the gaps in a person's perception of their future, it seeks clarity, stability, normalcy and control. It doesn't need to clarify IF the situation will happen, it needs to clarify how the situation will be DEALT WITH if it does happen. unanswered "what will I do if..." questions tend to become a broken record because the need for clarity is not fulfilled. more often than not if the needs for clarity and normalcy are fulfilled, anxiety lets up. even questions like "WWID if I die?" can be answered: "if there's an afterlife I'll try to punch god" or "I'll ask if they have soda here" or "if there's no afterlife I'll do nothing, but the world will go on without me, complex, busy and beautiful" also, since anxiety can be caused by physical factors like exhaustion and overuse of caffeine, dealing with these factors could be very helpful. this type of anxiety doesn't come from the mind, it comes from the body, so grilling yourself with questions won't help in this case. rest, nourishment and sleep will do a lot of good though.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hiya! was hoping I could request smut of G!p Donna body worshipping a ready with body image/confidence issues. Just Donna being absolutely obsessed with every part of reader, even the parts reader doesn’t like

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Turn the light on

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, insecurities

Word count: 7,359

Summary: You think she never gonna like your body....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))))

The kisses were soft, every time her lips landed on your skin it was like the best of caresses, the best of sensations.

Your body trembled in a subtle way while your head tried to concentrate on her caresses, on her soft hands that wanted to travel everywhere, to places where they never had the privilege of touching.

The smile, the courage you had that night was disappearing little by little, like a tire that deflates without you even realizing it until it is too late. The hand on the brunette's chest became firm when your arm tensed so the lady would not continue, so those mischievous hands would not lift your nightgown.

“What's wrong, tesoro?” Donna asked with a sad eye that already anticipated another of your rejections.

That realization was really what made you meditate on the two parts of your body: the part that wanted to continue, that cried out for you to leave any fear of that hot night behind. But there was also another part, one that couldn't stop imagining what would happen when that piece of clothing disappeared, when her hands ran over that body you were so ashamed of.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, with a sigh that struggled to be understanding. Maybe it was a while ago, now it was much harder for you to see the patience on her face.

However, you knew that fear could distort things, could form absurd paranoia in your mind. Donna said she would always wait for you, no matter how much.

You shook your head, not making eye contact, without the blush and fear on your face being noticed by the doll maker.

Wanting, not wanting... Your mind traveled between those two worlds but, that night, making an effort, you decided to let one of them prevail or, at least, you wanted to try to do so.

“No...” you whispered with shame making your words tremble. “But, but...”

The lady looked at you expectantly, kneeling on the bed, waiting to hear another of your excuses.

“(Y/N), calm down, I'm not in a hurry,” she said, bringing the hand that was previously traveling over your clothes to your cheek, almost tickling your skin.

Your mouth had become accustomed to smiling with her caresses and your cheeks burned shyly. How could you continue rejecting her? She was perfect.

“I know but... I, I want to do it,” you whispered, biting your lip, trying not to transmit that horrible fear with your gaze. “Mm, could you turn off the light?”

“The light? Perché?” she asked confused, blinking rapidly upon hearing your words.

You sighed, shaking your head, squeezing your eyes tightly and shrugging.

“I, I would feel more comfortable with the light off...” you explained, looking away.

Donna didn't answer. Luckily, she didn't ask any more questions, she didn't want to know the reason for your terrible embarrassment, so she obeyed your request, stretching out her arm and leaving that old bedroom completely dark.

“Okay...” she murmured, getting back on top of you, kissing you slowly, not in that messy and deep way. It was a kiss of comfort, a reassuring one. “Better?”

“Y-Yes,” you said, following the rhythm of those slow and short kisses, of those caresses that returned to your body, to your clothes.

You soon realized the light wasn't the problem.

You wondered if Donna could map you with just her hands, with her slender fingers, with her ability to move them. Maybe that's what she was doing; imagining what you would be like under that cloak of darkness, imagining with her caresses what the shape of your body would be like.

It was a thought that made you open your eyes and sink into what you thought was the safety of darkness. You didn't return the kisses. You simply prayed to the Black Gods that your body wouldn't be deciphered.

But time kept passing. Donna's kisses kept trying to distract you until, finally, her pale hand rested on your thigh and, as she raised it, your nightgown stayed on her wrist.

With a nervous gasp you brought your own hand to that spot, stopping the upward movement that threatened to strip you. You couldn't even stand it in the dark, you knew you couldn't, you knew that if Donna noticed your body, she would stop.

“Mm?” she murmured, confused, probably looking at you with a frown, with the look of disappointment that you imagined.

“On second thought... I think, I think I can't, Donna,” you whispered, your chest rising and falling quickly, with the heat of passion protesting loudly at your reluctance.

Another night, another failure.

“Fine,” she said, pulling away from you after one last quick kiss and a tired sigh.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized sincerely as you turned on the light, checking that no part of your body had been uncovered. “I'm so sorry.”

“Tesoro, don't apologize. It's okay, nothing's wrong,” Donna said, with a smile that you thought was fake.

The lady kissed you again, moving away definitively and sitting next to you, helping you to cover yourself with the sheets.

“I know it's not okay, I know I've failed you,” you commented with your mouth almost closed, playing with the fabric in your hands.

“You haven't failed me,” she said with a slightly hoarser voice, one voice similar to the one she had when you met her. “I just...” she said later, with a cautious tone. “I just want, I want to know what...”

“It's nothing important, I just...” you said quickly, clouding any shadow of doubt that could have been in the ventriloquist. “I'm not ready.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, shaking her head, faking a smile.

“Donna,” you said, your voice sad, embarrassed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Will you hug me?”

She looked at you slowly, with a radiant smile as she nodded, gesturing for you to come closer, to lean on her chest while her arms calmed your demons, while her lips rested tenderly on your hair.

“I'm sure you're sick of me,” you commented with a distracted look, playing with the fabric of her nightgown, trying to relax. She looked at you sharply, frowning.

“No, no, no, how can you say that? I'll never get sick of you,” she said in an almost pleading tone, lifting your chin so you would look at her, something you did before shifting on her body. “You're the love of my life, (Y/N)… You're everything to me.”

“No, not everything… I can't make love to you,” you whispered, camouflaging your voice on her chest.

The lady sighed, hugging you tighter. Her breathing was still agitated. The excitement could still be noticed in her movements. That made you feel even worse, making you sit up.

“I can, I can touch you if you want…” you said with a blush on your cheeks, with a shy voice broken by nervousness.

Donna looked at you with a frown, shaking her head.

“No, it's not necessary,” she said softly, studying each of your micro-expressions, each of the movements of your body. “It's not fair to you. Just, just tell me what worries you.”

“I don't know,” you lied, avoiding the tears from running down your cheeks.

“Is it because of my penis?” Donna asked, with that same understanding tone, always worried about the change the Black Gods made in her body.

“No, Donna,” you said with a more serious voice, moving her own demons away from that conversation, letting them not settle next to yours. “It's not that.”

“Okay…” she sighed, lying down more comfortably on the bed, removing you from her chest so your gaze wouldn't escape hers again. “Are you afraid of something? Are you afraid of the pain?”

“No, no, I… Well, the pain scares me but… It's not that, darling,” you said nervously, intimidated by that sudden interrogation.

That revealed Lady Beneviento's loss of patience. She never asked. She simply accepted your decision, until that day.

“So what is it?” the doll maker asked again, that time with a brusque tone, not asking, but demanding an answer, something that could explain your behavior.

You stepped back, unable to explain your true reasons, your true fears. Her voice sounded stern, demanding, nervous… Because of you.

“I need to cle-clear myself,” you said, suppressing a sob and getting up from the bed, walking towards the door.

“(Y/N), wait, I, I'm sorry,” the lady said, reaching out a hand to grab your wrist. “Don't go, amore mio… Forgive me.”

“I'll be right back just… I just need a moment,” you said, painfully removing her hand from your skin, feeling the cold that the lack of contact left on your body.

You walked through the halls of that gloomy basement, running your hand along the cracked walls, with your mind thinking many things and at the same time thinking nothing. That wandering walk took you to the bathroom, where the mirror was waiting to laugh at you.

With a sob, you turned on the sink, wetting your face with that ice-cold water, hoping that this way your mind could clear up.

Your gaze slowly went up to the mirror as you moved away, letting the reflection reveal more and more parts of your body. Without saying anything, sighing, you pulled up the fabric of your nightgown, looking at your figure, the figure that embarrassed you.

“No... She can't see me like this... I’m, I’m horrible,” you sobbed as you ran your hand over the marks on your skin, over the curves you were born with.

You were always a self-conscious girl. Since you were a child you suffered mockery for the marks on your body, for your freckles, for your scars... It might seem that they were simply children's stuff, that everything would pass with time but... You were wrong.

Adolescence only made it worse. Your body changed, deforming in a way you considered horrible. You weren't tall, you weren't especially thin, your body was horrible.

That shadow of your complexes led your soul to chain itself, to put on a protective shield that kept it away from suffering. Always with your books, with your drawings... You became a hermit without the right to be one, at least in a place like that.

That sinister village wasn't to blame for your problems. No one was to blame. The masses, the sermons, the Black Gods... None of that mattered to you especially, not even the Lords.

Your problems and your self-pity were always above your faith, above those prophecies of Mother Miranda. To live in a place like that never helped you, but you knew that if you lived somewhere else, nothing would change.

You were born that way, with that body, with those marks. Sometimes you wondered what kind of horrible thing your parents did, why they offended the Black Gods to punish them with such a horrible daughter.

Without friends, without beauty, without charisma, you became an inhabitant that no one paid attention to, a stain in a place full of light eyes, blonde hair and beautiful women, groups to which you didn’t belong at all.

In the midst of all that darkness, of boring masses you masterfully avoided by placing yourself in remote places (what nonsense, no one would notice you anyway) you achieved something you found hard to believe.

You caught someone's attention, not a villager, not a mocking child. There was something different about the usual sermons, some eyes you couldn't see, but you knew they were watching you.

That black dress, that sinister doll, that stoic pose and an almost ghostly presence...

You didn't know why, Donna Beneviento, youngest Lord, dangerous woman, mentally ill, the personification of fear for the village, had set her sights on you day after day, sermon after sermon.

Curiosity or simply a misinterpretation on your part, that's what you thought it was. No one could notice you, not even her, unless her sick mind wanted to torture you simply because she felt like it. It wouldn't be the first time it happened, you had heard rumors.

But rumors were always based on conversations where words danced at the whim of fearful villagers. When at last that dark lady came towards you with the church empty, you knew she wouldn't hurt you.

A hoarse voice came out from that black veil, a voice that cried out for your attention, that asked you why you couldn't get out of her head. It seemed impossible.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one. For a long time you had also been looking for her figure, you wondered what kind of woman she was.

Everything led to an incredible point, to a lot of walks, embarrassing dates with the lady in black. The smile began to replace your sad face and before you knew it, you were madly in love with her.

Not everything was light in that mansion. Donna Beneviento had problems, she was sick. She had developed an obsession with you that was difficult to understand. However, her jealousy, her clingy and almost dominant attitude didn’t make a dent in your feelings.

Yes, she was obsessed with you, not a day went by when her hands didn't touch your skin, when her lips didn't devour yours in silence. To her, you weren't just another girl, a piece of meat to have fun with. No, to her, you were much more than that.

The love she felt for you transcended her own appearance, the fear she felt when the veil disappeared from her face, when she had no choice but to be honest with you about her body.

You stayed by her side, you didn't run away. Yes, surely that obsession, that jealousy, that kind of adoration the lady in black had for you had a much more romantic explanation than a stupid mental illness.

You were that miracle, that person who saw far beyond appearances, the only person in the world who told her she was beautiful.

Everything was going well, perfect, even. Your life was a sea of ​​kisses and caresses. Living with her in the mansion, well, and also with Angie, was the best decision of your life.

But your relationship was missing something that Donna wanted and that you were unable to give her.

Luckily, every day was a restart, a new opportunity to start from scratch, to forget that awkward moment that Donna never, ever remembered to you.

But the passage of time was capable of distorting things, even that kind and understanding attitude of the lady in black.

“You're not talkative today,” Donna commented during lunch.

The day had started well, but that was because the lady in black was spending time with her dolls, oblivious to your own worries.

“Yes, well...” you sighed, playing with your food and looking down.

“Have I done something wrong?” the lady asked, drinking some wine.

“No,” you said, sighing again, with a horribly fake smile. “It’s nothing.”

“It's nothing…” she murmured, half-closing her eye. You regretted your mistake, trying to improve that sad smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, well, thoughts, you know,” you said with an improved mood, trying by all means to erase that dark look of the lady.

“No, I don't know,” she said, with a serious, confused tone. “Tell me.”

You would have to invent something, and quickly.

“Well… I was, I was thinking about going to the village,” you said, with a sincere smile. She looked at you with that same intense gaze.

“What for?” she asked curiously, frowning. “Do you need something?”

“The truth is that I would like to buy some clothes,” you said calmer, relaxing your shoulders.

Her gaze didn’t change.

“Clothes…” Donna sighed, tilting her head. “I didn't know you were interested in clothes.”

“I'm not interested,” you said amused, pointing at your dress. “But I think that five years with the same dress are too many years, don't you think?”

“Mm, you want a dress,” she said, smiling tenderly to your relief, also noticing your used clothes. “What kind of dress?”

You shrugged, eating calmly, enjoying the dedication of the lady in black to please you with her recipes.

“Well… One, I guess,” you joked with a funny look. “One that suits me well…”

No, certainly talking about clothes wasn’t the best idea. Your complexes peeked into your mind, taking notice.

“Mm,” Donna said with a tender look, slowly getting up from the table and approaching you.

You lowered your head, blushing at that smile, at how lucky you were to always have her beauty by your side. She was so beautiful, so affectionate… So… Donna…

Her finger raised your chin while the lady studied your shy eyes. The smile didn’t leave her face.

“Everything suits well on a beautiful girl like you,” she murmured, leaning in to steal a sensual, tender kiss from you, one that tasted like wine.

You laughed shyly, moving away from her tender harassment while playing with her hands.

“Then wear a potato sack!” a shrill voice interrupted that romantic moment, that feeling in your mind of having freed yourself for a second from your fears. Angie.

“Angie…” Donna murmured, rolling her eye but with her hand still in yours. “Unlike (Y/N), you are better quiet.”

“That's a low blow, silly Donna,” the doll protested, approaching you, getting on the table and making an unpleasant noise when moving the plates and glasses.

“What did I tell you about getting on the table? Scendi!” the lady said, blinking furiously, pointing to the floor with her hand.

“I don't want to, I'm helping the fool to choose a dress,” Angie said, with a cocky voice, making you shake your head, rubbing your eyes.

“Cosa? Please leave her alone,” Donna said shaking her head as the doll played with your dress, pretending to study it thoroughly.

“Mm, yeah, a potato sack would be too fancy for a loser like you…” the puppet muttered, making you frown with an annoyed growl. “What do you say, Donna?”

“I say… Basta, Angie,” the lady hissed, crossing her arms. “Don’t make me control you.”

“You’re stupid and she’s stupid,” the doll protested, reluctantly obeying. “I just want to help…”

“Hey, I appreciate it,” you said amused, winking at her.

“You see, Donna? She appreciates my ideas,” Angie said, with a haughty pose, climbing onto your lap.

The lady snorted, shaking her head.

“Mm, let's see, let's see...” the puppet murmured, placing the dress on you under your amused gaze. “Oh, you could...” she said, lowering her voice, getting closer to your ear. “Oh, oh, oh, you could wear a ruffled dress.”

“Ruffles? No thanks, that's too cheesy,” you said amused, arching your eyebrows.

“Did you hear that, Donna? She says your dolls are cheesy…” Angie mocked, with an overly dramatic tone.

“Hey, I didn't say that,” you protested.

Donna's patience ran out, picking up the doll in her arms and leaving her on the floor in an unpleasant way.

“That's enough, get out,” she said in a threatening voice, pointing her finger towards the hallway.

“You're too tense, silly Donna. Are you having too much testicular pressure?”

“Basta! Porca miseria, taci, taci! Get out, get out, get out!” the lady shrieked furiously, offended and humiliated by that insinuation, which, obviously, also involved you.

That abrupt attitude with her only companion made you squirm in your chair, guilt stalking you again. You were to blame for that tension. You were to blame for the desire to have you, to possess you, being extended more and more in time.

“I-I'm sorry,” you murmured nervously as the doll ran away, laughing loudly.

“No…” Donna said, turning around and shaking her head, resting her hands on your shoulders. “No, tesoro, you haven't done anything wrong.”

“I… I…” you stammered, biting your lip to suppress an embarrassed sob. “Donna, I…”

“Shh, don't worry, everything is fine. You know how she is like, don't pay attention to her,” the lady said softly, gesturing to you with her hand. “Get up, amore mio, I want to look at you.”

With the help of her hand, you stood up while Donna looked at your clothes, the fabric that covered your sleeves, the folds of your dress…

“Mm…” she murmured, relaxing that furious expression due to the doll's teasing. “Yes, okay…”

“What…? What are you doing?” you asked curiously, trying to forget that awkward moment.

She smiled, apparently calmer, putting a hand around your waist, sighing and hugging you from behind, placing her lips on your neck.

“I won't allow la mia ragazza to spend a single lei on a horrible dress…” she whispered affectionately, causing you to laugh due to the tickling of her lips. “I'll make you one.”

“Oh…” you gasped with a smile, closing your eyes to enjoy her hug, joining your hands to hers, trying, involuntarily, that they didn't dare to run around your body. “No, it's not necessary.”

“Mm, of course, bellisima…” she said, turning you around quickly and capturing your lips again. “My beautiful girl has to wear a beautiful dress…”

“Donna…” you said with a tender voice, mercilessly seduced by her continuous displays of affection, by her caresses, by her melodic voice.

Yes, she was definitely perfect. You felt stupid, stupid for not being able to give her what she wanted, to let her love you, to make you hers as she would like. You would have to leave your demons aside, remove sadness and fear from your life if you wanted to please her.

“I will make you a dress worthy of a true lady,” she whispered, swinging with you, with a seductive sparkle in her eye. “No, no, worthy of a goddess.”

“I hope Mother Miranda didn't hear you,” you joked, causing that tender laugh from the lady in black again, causing her lips to rest on yours in a quick, but terribly romantic way.

“Let her hear me… She will never be as lucky as me. I have you, principessa…”she murmured, leaving you, pushing her tempting body away

You, slowly, reached out your hand to grab hers, so she wouldn't move away any further.

“Donna…”you whispered, your voice nervous but determined, even if it was just for a moment. “I want, I want to try again… Tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, running the back of her hand over your cheek as you nodded. “There's no hurry. Angie just talks nonsense, don't take it seriously, mm?”

“It's not because of Angie I… I want, I want to do it,” you said, unable to keep your gaze, something Donna prevented by lifting your chin again.

“Va bene… But first, tesoro, let's finish eating,” she said, kissing you quickly and finally moving away from you, pointing to your chair for you to sit down again.

No matter how little courage you had, it quickly vanished like on all those previous occasions. Not even the safe cover of darkness prevented your body from shaking when her hands ran over it.

Your mind wandered through horrible thoughts, through the fear you had that the lady would notice your body, that way you were born and that made you so self-conscious.

She didn't give it any importance. It was almost as if she had already assumed that making love to you was an impossible task.

You didn't want her to think that way, you didn't even want to think that way yourself, but you couldn't help it.

Day after day, your body asked you for love, but your mind prevented it. Not even your suggestion of keeping your clothes on was a good idea.

Donna didn't ask you, she stopped asking you. Simply, desperate, she accepted all your proposals without complaining but, with time, her attitude was increasingly tired, her sighs were increasingly louder.

You didn't know how long you could last like this, how long the lady in black could put up with you. The fear of losing you was no longer just hers, you also were afraid of Donna abandoning you, of Donna stopping loving you.

At that moment you understood her possessiveness, her jealousy. Just imagining a life without her was horrible and if it was that horrible for you, it was much worse for her.

You sighed during a quiet afternoon, finishing reading while the lady in black worked on something at her desk. Your gaze went to hers, which seemed concentrated. Your eyes shone with her distracted beauty, with each of her movements.

You simply couldn’t understand yourself.

You loved her more than anything but… Because of your stupid complexes, you would end up losing her.

As you thought about all those horrible possibilities, your eyes met and Donna did what she did best, giving you one of her radiant smiles, resting her head on her hand as if she were contemplating something beautiful, something you refused to be aware of.

“Do you see anything you like, tesoro?” she asked softly, with a look that expressed all your worries were absurd.

“Ugh, here we go again… Bye, sticky fools” Angie said, getting off the couch where she was reading with you and walking away from the living room.

“Yes,” you answered, ignoring the doll. “You.”

Donna laughed again, shaking her head and raising her hand towards you.

“Come here,” she whispered tenderly.

You smiled back, getting up from the couch and walking towards the desk, holding out your hand for the lady to take in an elegant way.

“Sit here with me, I want to show you something,” Donna whispered, kissing your shy hand and pulling you to sit on her lap, settling into her favorite position, with your body on hers in an innocent way.

The lady in black pulled out an old magazine, one that seemed to be about fashion, or dresses, or something similar. Little by little she turned each page, where really beautiful girls posed in all kinds of dresses.

You stirred at the sight of those models, at the sight of that beauty that you could never have. Donna kissed your cheek and placed your hair lovingly, pointing with her finger at one of those photographs.

“What do you think of this one, tesoro? Do you like it?” she asked in a whisper, attentive to your gestures.

You leaned down to pick up that magazine, letting Donna accommodate you better on her lap.

“Oh… You mean, you mean the dress, right?” you joked without wanting to do it, running your hand over that beautiful woman, over that perfect body.

The lady laughed amused, frowning.

“Of course,” she whispered unaware of your little joke, resting her head on your shoulder. “I think that color will suit you very much, see? These details match your eyes.”

“Um, yes, well…” you murmured unsure. “I don't think that one will fit me well, it's too tight.”

The doll maker nodded, turning the page without asking any more questions.

“Well, then… What do you say about this one? I can change the design so it doesn't have… Those, those ruffles you hate,” she joked in a calm voice. “I think that one makes a very pretty figure.”

You looked at that woman posing, a tall, blonde woman, who seemed to be made for that dress. You could never be her. You could never have the pretty figure Donna said. No dress would achieve that.

“I don't know, Donna...” you murmured, starting to get stressed for no reason, just for the simple fact that you didn't look anything like those models.

“Mm, okay, don't worry, I'm sure we'll find one you like,” she said, with a slightly more serious look, turning the page again.

Reject after refusal, you rejected each of her proposals, making her features harden little by little.

“Look, I think this one is perfect,” the lady said, pointing to the beautiful girl on the last page. “This neckline would look great on you.”

You shook your head, increasingly nervous.

“Mm, okay…” Donna sighed, running a hand through her hair, but without letting you go. “I'll ask the Duke for more magazines, there has to be a dress you like…”

“No,” you said nervously, looking away. “It's not necessary.”

“Well, I can, I can try to make one with my own design, but I'm not a dressmaker. It would be very difficult for me to not make you look like a porcelain doll,” Donna said, amused, moving you on her lap.

“I wish I was,” you murmured in a somber voice. Even those dolls had better bodies than you, or so you thought.

“Hey, come on, why you say that?” she asked, moving your face so you could look at her.

You shook your head, moving away from her caresses and getting off her lap.

“Stop pretending, Donna. I'm never going to be like one of those models, no dress you make could fit me well,” you said nervously, overwhelmed, about to explode.

“But, but, tesoro…” the lady said, frowning, with a look of surprise. “Di che cosa stai parlando?”

“I don't want a dress, I don't need one, I don't want…” you stammered running a hand over your forehead. “I don't want… For you to realize how horrible I am and…”

“(Y/N), tell me, tell me what's wrong, why do you say such a nonsense?” she asked again, getting up from her desk and reaching out her hands to take yours, a gesture you rejected with a furious gasp.

“Forget it! Okay? I'm not like them. I never will be, so you better stop trying to make me look like them with those stupid dresses. I'm horrible!” you screamed nervously, turning around to run away.

“(Y/N), please, come here, wait!” Donna shouted as you ran towards the elevator, cowardly fleeing.

You ignored her call, going down to the basement, running through its hallways, entering the bedroom and throwing yourself on the bed, crying inconsolably.

You couldn't stand it anymore, you couldn't stand the silent shame you felt for your body. Your mind had exploded. You were no longer able to accept it, to control your anger, to prevent the demons of your low self-esteem from overshadowing your rational thinking.

After a time that you couldn't determine, the sound of heels interrupted your moans and the weight of the brunette sank the bed while a warm hand rested on your back.

“Go away,” you sobbed. “Leave me alone.”

“I will never let you cry alone, tesoro, never,” Donna murmured, sighing. “I can't stand to see you cry, amore mio…”

“Well, leave then,” you said abruptly, moving so the contact would disappear.

“Please... Tell me, tell me what's wrong, I beg you, you’re breaking my heart, (Y/N)…” she whispered, moving your body to get up, grabbing you by the shoulders and wiping away your tears. “Don't cry, please…”

“I can't take it anymore, Donna…” you sobbed, fighting back your tears. “It's, it's too much…”

“What's too much? Please, I want to help you…” she sighed, keeping her hand on your cheek. “Day after day I see your eyes begging for help but I’m unable to read them… Grant me the grace of your words. Grant me the precious gift of those thoughts that are tormenting you…”

“You are always so poetic…” you said with a smile, shaking your head.

She smiled back, without taking her eye off yours, comforting you with her tender gaze.

“Poetry is the word of the Gods…” she whispered romantically. “You are my Goddess, (Y/N)…”

“Don't talk nonsense, I’m not a Goddess,” you said with a sadder tone, turning your face away from her caresses. “I’m nothing like that, I… You don't understand…”

“No, of course I don't understand, tesoro,” she said, getting a little closer to you. “Explain it to me, I’m begging you…”

“Fuck… Do you know… Do you know why I'm wearing this horrible dress? Why don't I let you see me naked? Why don't I want to…? Why can't I make love to you?” you asked embarrassed, correcting your words.

Donna simply shook her head.

“Because of this,” you said, getting up furiously, taking advantage of that furious outburst to untie the laces of your dress and let it fall at your feet.

The lady stood up nervously, looking at you dazed, looking in detail at your half-naked body with her mouth open, surprised.

“(Y/N)… You are…” she murmured, approaching slowly, as if she were hypnotized.

“Don't come closer, Donna,” you said, hissing, kicking the floor. “You see? You don't have to say it. I don't want to hear it. My body is horrible, it's, it's full of marks and freckles and... No, it's not pretty, it's not proportionate...”

The ventriloquist stopped dead, shaking her head, without taking her eye off your flawed body.

“It's... It's a burden I've had for too long... I'm not worthy of your love, of your desire... You'll never, ever be able to love a body like mine... Never...” you murmured, sobbing again, trembling with shame.

“Wait a minute...” she murmured, making a gesture with her hand, looking down with a frown, as if she had just remembered something important. “Oh, so... Were you turning off the light because you were ashamed of your body?” she asked in a different, harsher tone.

You, embarrassed, nodded, lowering your head and clenching your fists tightly.

“Really? Oh, wow, I…” Donna said, with a smile that stuck in your heart, laughing nervously but strangely relieved, something that made you groan.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” you shrieked furiously, taking the brunette’s laughter as a mockery.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said, sighing in relief, with that mocking smile decorating her face as she approached. “Oh, tesoro… I thought you turned off the light so you wouldn’t see my… My face,” she said, her smile disappearing little by little.

“What? No,” you said, shaking your head, with the same confused expression.

“It’s, it’s a relief,” she said, smiling again.

You shook your head in disbelief, bending down to pick up the dress, something Donna prevented with a hand on your wrist, slowly raising your body.

“Amore mio… You're so stupid…” she said with a tender smile, cupping your face in her hands. “Your body is beautiful…”

“Yeah, come on, now lie to me,” you said distrustfully, fleeing from her caresses again. “Have you seen me well? Look at that waist, at that horrible freckles…”

“Horrible?” she asked, running a hand over your marked collarbone, grabbing your waist with the other one. “I think they're cute…”

“Come on, don't pretend that…” you said nervously, letting the lady in black explore your flawed skin for the first time, letting her fingers sink into your scars. “Oh, no, don't touch me there, it's horrible.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, with a cold look, taking your hand and bringing it to her own scar. “Do you think this is horrible, (Y/N)?”

“No,” you said sincerely, strangely comfortable with her caresses. “But, but your body, your body is perfect and mine…”

“Yours isn't perfect,” the lady said, her voice low and whispering, pulling you a little closer to her, resting her warm hand on your back. “Because there's no word that describes something beyond perfection, tesoro… You're beautiful… Your body is beautiful…”

“Don't tell me that…” you whispered confused, blushing at her compliments. “I know, I know you say that to make me feel good.”

“Mm, and what happens when you tell me that I'm beautiful? Do you do it to make me feel good too?” she asked without raising her voice, without making you feel uncomfortable.

“N-No… I, I really think you're beautiful,” you murmured, looking away, trembling every time her fingers ran over your curves, those places you hated.

Donna smiled, leaning down to kiss you tenderly, to sigh on your lips while her hands continued their particular exploration, caressing your back, running a finger along your spine, causing you hundreds of shivers.

“Perfetta…” she whispered among her kisses, her lips too busy to care if you understood her.

You let yourself go, you let her skin brush against yours, her body embrace yours, her perfection and your imperfection to mix.

“Donna, wait,” you said, interrupting her deep kisses.

You moved away, still embarrassed by that eye that didn't want to leave your figure and you moved your ankle, taking a breath.

Your hands traveled nervously to the clasp of your bra, which gave way despite the trembling, falling next to that dress, the one that hid your greatest fear. The lady in black took a deep breath, trying to be kind, trying not to stare at your breasts in a shameless way.

She couldn't help it, her gaze fell on them, her breathing became more agitated as her hands reached out to you again, passing over your chest without touching those erotic parts, surrounding them in a respectful way while her lips slowly traveled down your neck.

“I'm not done,” you said, interrupting, moving away from those hot kisses again.

With less fear at seeing her gaze enraptured by your beauty, you bent down getting rid of the last piece of clothing you had left, exposing yourself to the woman you loved as you never thought you would dare.

“Every piece of clothing you take off is a gift for my gaze...” she whispered, with a voice taken by nerves, by the sincere love that you didn't believe she felt. “You are amazing, amore mio…”

“Come on…” you joked, feeling comfortable with her eye wandering over your imperfection, her hands brushing your hips, her fingers tickling your sensitive, uneven skin. “You are so tender, Donna… Too much for me to keep resisting…”

“Mm, don't resist then,” the lady said softly, pulling your waist, taking you back to the pleasure of her wet, warm kisses, passing that heat through every inch of your skin. “Wait, (Y/N),” she interrupted, moving away in the same way as you. “I think this is unfair.”

“Oh, well...” you said nervously, frustrated at having lost the burning contact that encouraged you to fulfill your lustful desires.

She smiled, but didn't say anything. Donna brought her hands to the buttons of her dress, undoing them little by little, also nervous. Your gaze remained fixed on the pale skin of her body as the top disappeared.

If you were a Goddess you didn't know what she was... Was there anything superior to a Goddess?

Her bra also fell under her trembling hands and her black skirt soon joined the pile of clothes. The lady in black hesitated before lowering her last garment, before letting you see that part of her body that also embarrassed her, but finally, she did it, looking away.

“Donna…” you sighed, involuntarily approaching her naked body, letting your hands travel to her skin, your eyes focusing on every detail of that, soft, pale, hot body… “You are so beautiful…”

“No, no… Not as much as you…” she said, visibly nervous, especially because her body betrayed her desire, something that, unfortunately for her, she could no longer hide. “Come, I want to kiss you.”

You obeyed, walking, floating towards her, letting your two bodies join naked, your skin delighting in the contact.

They were different kisses, deeper ones. Your hands also lost their fear. Hers dared to conquer your breasts, the lower part of your back. Her lips left yours, traveling down your neck, down your freckled collarbone.

“Donna…” you gasped again, surprised by that adoration, by that delicacy with which her fingers ran over your flaws, with which her lips kissed every part you hated, always carefully, as if the mere fact of touching your scars or your curves was something almost forbidden, a divine privilege.

Your hands also ran over her skin, enjoying the softness that yours didn’t have, that paleness, that shine that made you doubt if Donna Beneviento was human, if that beauty was possible in a place like that.

“Make love to me, please…” you whispered, with your voice broken by the growing lust, by the rubbing of your bodies, the subtle caresses of her erection on your belly.

Nothing mattered anymore, just her, just you, just two poor, self-conscious souls who blindly believed in a God that didn't exist, in a supernatural entity that said you were both beautiful.

“Please…” she whispered, walking slowly until you were lying on the bed, lowering her lips down your chest, kissing your belly, scratching the skin of your legs with her nails, claiming that as her territory, claiming you.

Your hips met with hers. Your waist was grabbed by those faithful hands. Your sides were adored by her caresses, by her kisses…

Everything you hated was ambrosia to her, it was addictive to her lips, to her fingers, to her own body that wanted to join yours, that moved to feel its burning skin on yours, so the heat between them would stop being unbearable.

Donna slowly pulled away, with her hand always on your body, not wanting to leave you, looking at you in such a tender way that it seemed impossible. Her sincere smile calmed your nerves. Nothing could make you back down, nothing.

“Ti amo…” she whispered, before going down to your lips again, positioning her body so her erection rubbed against your wetness, against that sensitive part of your body.

“Oh, Donna…” you whispered, hugging her gratefully, almost sobbing from the emotion of feeling desired. You were stupid, but you wouldn't be stupid anymore, never again. “Please… I need you…”

She nodded slowly, caressing your cheek before moving to guide the tip towards your entrance and moving slowly, entering you delicately.

You squirmed due to the sensation, an annoying, painful sensation, but one you couldn't avoid.

Your body stretched slowly, with time, without rushing while Donna entered you completely with a subtle moan, always relieving that discomfort with her caresses, with whispers that passion and nerves didn't allow you to understand.

“Amore mio…” she whispered, letting you get used to it gently, enduring the pleasure of your walls tightening around her. “Are you better? Can I move?”

You, impressed by the change in your body, by losing that pain and immediately turning it into an intense pleasure, nodded closing your eyes, running your hands along her legs.

Her hips began to move slowly but rhythmically, in a way in which you were able to feel her erection sliding along your walls, making its way, soaking in the moisture of your long-repressed desire.

Soft moans, sighs, glances… That joined the dance of your hips, of your bodies fused erotically. Kisses landed on your lips from time to time, your body began to move, to lose its shyness.

The pleasure was outrageously overwhelming. Your hands lost their composure, pulling on her hair, grabbing her breasts, wanting to add that contact, that rubbing to the pleasure of her thrusts.

The slow rhythm disappeared when her hands rested on either side of your head. The lust was already unbearable and her hips began to lose control little by little, as did yours.

“Donna, Donna, I think, I think…” you stammered, noticing that your body was beginning to tense, that your mind was completely free, that it was only able to process the pleasure you felt, one that was getting stronger and stronger.

“Ah!” you screamed when your back tensed, when your walls squeezed her shaft abruptly, trapping her inside of you, preventing her from coming out of your orgasm.

Those new, involuntary movements were enough for Donna to fight against your body, to allow her to maintain that increasingly furious rhythm until, shortly after your screams echoed off the walls of the room, she released herself with a tremendously seductive moan.

Her seed coursed through your wetness, through your walls agitated by your own release. You were already her, you always were, but there was no doubt now.

“Oh, amore mio…” the lady sighed, kissing you erratically, letting her body fall on yours, her hands go crazy in your hair.

“Donna…” you sighed, laughing amused by her tender attitude. “Do… Do you really like my body?” you asked, with insecurity slightly peeking in your mind.

“I love everything about you…”

[mirrorballkento]

glitch

ivy's note : taylor i'm begging on my knees for a glitch x dress mashup

content warnings : no curses/modern au, (drunk) friends to lovers, transition to dress if you can spot it

--

this wasn’t supposed to happen.

this had to be a mistake, and yet, here you were.

never once did you think that you’d end up in such a compromising position with your colleague—let alone the man you thought you had no chance with given his prestigious reputation in the company.

you were supposed to sweat nanami out, but as his large hands settled on either side of your waist, every coherent thought reminding you that your relationship was strictly professional faded into an indiscernible buzz at the back of your head.

it was easy to blame it on the drinks served at the corporate dinner, but maybe it was something more—something unbeknownst to the two of you. after all, you weren’t entirely out of it, and with the sliver of sobriety left in you, you wouldn’t pull just anyone back to your hotel room.

"kento..." you sigh hazily, your wine-tinged breath mingling with his. "how did we get here...?"

he pauses, looking at you with lidded eyes. his fingers, diligently thread through his silk tie to pull it loose, letting it drape over his shoulders.

“those damn drinks satoru ordered,” nanami huffed, shaking his head as he backed you up against the nearby wall. “tasted like shit. you’d think a man like him would have standards.”

“right, that explains why you downed the whole bottle.” you quipped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, the illicit act drawing the room taut with palpable tension.

up close, your gaze wandered over his face, admiring every crease and line etched into his broad features. his blond locks clung to his forehead, slick with a thin sheen of sweat at his brow, while a flush of crimson tinted his pale cheekbones as your fingernails grazed the spiky patch of his undercut.

“i could ask the same of you, you know,” nanami mumbled, each syllable laced with caution. “why are we here?”

your mind raced through the question, but as the alcohol’s haze began to lift and clarity settled in, the answer became elusive. nanami's touch—intimate, tender, and far beyond what even a best friend would do—kept you grounded in the moment.

maybe you really were falling in love—true love—and god, did it feel like he was too. drinks or not.

with your inhibitions still at an all-time low, you decided to go for the kill. the weight of hesitation lifted, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in—closer, daringly so. "i don't want you like a best friend," you admitted feverishly, the sweltering heat of your breath radiating against nanami’s face.

"you're drunk."

"and i'm not even sorry."

"you do realize that this will cost us our job."

"you're not denying me, are you though?

nanami hesitated, his muddy eyes searching yours. god, were you persistent. "i should be."

"but you won’t," you whispered teasingly, craning your head to the shell of his ear, daring him to make the next move.

calculated, his lips hovered just above yours, and at that moment, the weight of consequences seemed to fade into the starry twilight.

"i won’t," nanami finally admitted, succumbing to the heat of the moment as he closed the last sliver of distance. "not if anyone finds out.”

--

i think there's been a glitch.

[autisticlalna]

don’t have the braincells to do anything with this, so i figure i could just throw this out there for, like. the five people who’d know what this is.

anyway: sbk shadow people au 👀?

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME INFINITE POWER

a quick recap of what Shadow People AU is: alternate universe where 1.15, on top of everythin else it Actually added, included a poorly-documented new mechanic where you could summon a black-and-yellow shadow copy of yourself. if you killed your shadow you would get a copy of everything you had in your inventory when you summoned it, but it would also be stronger with each death. if a shadow dies enough times, they can evolve to the point of being able to strategize, to build, and to communicate. oops! theyre self-aware!

there's a lot more to it than that, but ill explain as we go. because my favorite thing to do ever is apply this concept to different mcyt series and explore what might happen, and ive been toying with makin a variant for sbk. SO LETS GOOOOOOO

Viking would use his shadow to dupe materials and as an extra hand when buildin farms, so his shadow would develop to be more work-focused i think. zeroes in hard on a task and will not give up until its done. leave him alone he's got Shit To Do. either Viking gives him a cool mythology name, he continues the season nicknamin scheme to match Summertime, or Avid calls him somethin dumb and it sticks.

Vintage gets Antique. bottom text. i can actually just point at Antique as-is and go "yeah that's her shadow" LMAO. recolor the colored bits yellow and give her her eyes back and Antique is good to go. fun fact: the only* thing that can kill a shadow is their summoner or another shadow. run.

(* theres more than that but this post is already pretty long. spau is Big.)

Ruby is probably where we first run into the idea of "entity corruption", because god knows whats going on with Cherruby. basically if you've gotten corrupted by an entity in any way (eg Scar and Cub havin Vex magic, Watcher Grian, Karl Jacobs gettin put in the time travel blender), that bleeds over to your shadow and can cause... problems. i have a lot of thoughts about how this applies to TSMP specifically, but im squintin at Cherruby going what is your deal because there is SOMETHING messin with zhem and whatever it is is gonna mess with xis shadow too.

Avid would not risk havin a shadow. the most obvious reason is bc his shadow would be Super corrupted bc of basically everythin that happened in Nightmares, but the actual reason is that it would look like Avoid and that would freak Avid out too much :,D

rose suggested Marmalade would have the Old Shadows and OOGHGHHHHH FUCK . that goes hard. basically there's an associated dimension called the Shadowlands, and you can royally screw up your shadow's data by goin there before theyve finished forming for the first time. the outcome is a maxed-out shadow with a god complex that is capable of whatever you think its capable of. Marm might've drawn a connection between the Shadowlands and the Void, tried to use it as another way to get down to the Limbo border when the Void wasn't lettin her in, and instead got the Abyss equivalent. probably just named Void because of initially assuming theyre an extension of the Void itself.

Trog would be the runner-up for the Old Shadows, i think, but also they probably thought about it and went "nah" and forgot to warn anyone else that thats a thing. continues the trend with my Trog hcs of lookin perfectly normal and Not Being Normal At All. not entity corruption, just, like. corruption corruption. somethin broke here.

wait lmao i just realized something really funny and its that Fool's shadow would literally just look like him but all shadow-y. bc Fool already normally has the yellow/gold cracks. solar probably will have more ideas on what to do with this guy but i am proudly announcing that it is now Two Of Them Thursday

i cant decide if Leon's shadow shows signs of ender-ification before he does, or if he stays Completely Normal while Leon mutates. the latter is probably more interestin bc shadows gettin messed with is a pretty common trait in the au so havin a situation of "the shadow is normal while their summoner gets more and more fucked up" is fun. also: shitpost incarnate. this penguin cannot be stopped by any mortal means

i dont know how the tube thing would affect the shadows, is the fun part. like, "mechanically" the way the shadows work is they're tied to playerdata, so the likely idea is that Cloneby would have Cherruby's shadow. that's fun and fucked up!

fun side note: shadows are ground bound. they can do the kingdom hearts heartless thing of going flat to travel up surfaces and fit through spaces but they cannot jump over gaps. skyblock is maybe the worst experience for a shadow ever LMAO

[aziraphales-library]

hello, i've been on the aziraphale-centric fics kick because he is one of my favorite characters ever :( <33 i wondered if you all have any azi centric fics to recommend? i really like hurt/comfort and hurt aziraphale :-) thank u <3

Hi. We have some Aziraphale-centric fics here, so check those out (it includes that one you're thinking of, so you don't need to add it in the notes). Here are some more...

A Gradual Acceleration by PunJedi (G)

Aziraphale has to deal with 6000 years worth of pent-up feelings and what happens when the world doesn't end on schedule. It's a tricky thing, love; his modus operandi has been to ignore it. But there reaches a point at which it simply cannot be ignored. Crowley is willing to wait, though.

It's Not The End Of The World by mellohirust (T)

“I think I'm still worried about… our old sides.” This is where he expects said bomb to explode. This is his fatal flaw, that he hasn't actually moved on, that things aren't actually as over as he wants them to be. It's all they've ever wanted, and they didn't truly have it. Not in his mind. Not somewhere deep within him, like a disease, like something he couldn't pry out of him. How selfish would he be, to drag the other down with him just for reassurance, force him to relive it all? Crowley stays quiet. Aziraphale feels as if he's confessed to something awful, like a part of him was fundamentally incompatible with the other. Aziraphale suspects both of these things could be the case and Crowley would love him anyway. He has it written down, somewhere in his mind, what Crowley ought to say. It’s not what he actually winds up saying. “Yeah,” the other finally mumbled, after what felt like eternity. He draws a breath. “Yeah, me too.” - Aziraphale hasn't been able to let himself rest in six thousand years. Crowley's determined to help him change that, even if addressing the root of the problem is more unpleasant and complicated than either would've hoped for.

So Still I Wait by HotCrossPigeon (T)

Aziraphale asks one too many questions. What is Heaven to do with their wayward Principality? Crowley picks up the pieces. (Solitary confinement warning)

A Hard World for Little Things by GiggleSnortBangDead (E)

When the Almighty Lord created the universe and decided that desire would exist within it, They hadn’t exactly said: “This shall go on top, and this on bottom.” But there was an ordering of things and a hierarchy of desire. That’s how it was explained to Aziraphale. All of us serve, he had been taught, and some of us are happy to serve a little more.

Night and Day by wyrmy (E)

Aziraphale Engel, black sheep of his strictly religious family, lives a quiet and monkish existence in the middle of London, trying to avoid the many temptations of the flesh and do his bit for the church that his father founded. But his quiet, untroubled, and unhappily narrow existence is about to come to an end, and he will be faced with the choice to give up even more of who he is or to survive in the real world.

Smitten at First Fright by Oopsynini (M)

Aziraphale has problems. No one needs to tell him so, he's well aware that his issues are many and in-between. He's an agoraphobic shut-in with a bad back and a sad past. It's a rule that, to most, he isn't much worth the effort of getting to know. Crowley doesn't seem to abide by any of that. He's an enigmatic gardener with a green thumb and a smile a thousand miles wide. It's something like love at first sight; if that included a panic attack and a minor foray into bird watching. Aziraphale is smitten, now if only he could get past his fears and admit it.

- Mod D

[yourinnerdemon]

Thank goodness someone active writes about our Baby Lord Raiden. You can write hcs about Lord raiden being jealous with his s/o? Thank you!!! ❤️

JEALOUS LORD RAIDEN HEADCANONS

𝔄/𝔑: I hope im not filling up the Lord Raiden tag yall 😭

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰:Lord Raiden x Gn!reader

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: none, very jealous raiden though.

•Jealous? Him? Nahhh never! He’s  a god, how could he ever be jealous?! That’s what he likes to think at least. Even as a god he has jealous tendencies

•he would just look at the other person from across the room, a slight look of disgust as he just glares the other person down. Not that he would act upon it, he has a reputation to uphold and other things that require his attention. But he just can’t stop glaring at the other person, as they get closer and closer to you making more flirtatious marks then Raiden could keep count of.

•That’s when he decided to pull you away from the situation, telling you that you were needed in something important. Not even sparing a glance at the other person. You could see on his face that he was ticked off, not sure of what happened and really that something happened you follow him closely. When your off in some other room or just out of view of everyone else he pulls you close. Its almost crushing with how tight he holds you.

•and you’re just looking up at him so confused at what’s happening. You thought this was something important and bro is just holding you? He notices your eyes on him after a while and just starts explaining himself, flustered of course. This was so foolish of him; I mean come on! A god, jealous of a mortal? that’s just comical!

•Even as you giggle and tell him about how idiotic it was to think that you had eyes for someone else was, he still held you close. Fearing that you would leave him for the other person. And even as you caress his cheek and tell him about how you won’t leave him his grip doesn’t loosen. Not that he doesn’t believe you, you could tell him the sky was red and he would believe you. Its just that he needed comfort, even if it was out of your control he fears that you will one day leave him. Its one of his few fears that he has.

•so as you go back you stay right by his side to give him comfort and a peace of mind. Even as the original person comes back to talk to you, you shoo them off. As you do so a light smile threatens Raiden’s face, seeing you devoted to him. Just made him swoon, no matter how much he got teased for it by Fujin he always had a slight almost unnoticeable smile on his face when he was with you. You anchored him and lightened the weight of being a god off his shoulders. Just being with you put him in a better mood.

•so the world kept spinning, and you didn’t leave his side. Raiden wanted to forget about that moment, but the moment was engraved in his brain. But seeing you, comfort him in a time where he felt embarrassed just made him all warm and fuzzy inside. Instead of judging him for acting foolishly, you joked about it and comforted him about it.

•You brought him comfort, but you still anchored him. And for that he was grateful that you were by his side, seeing your smile as you looked up at him and your eyes sparkling as you looked u at him and talked about recent events that happened around the realms just reminded him about how he would never leave you for another.

•no matter how jealous Raiden got you always brought him back to reality, that being that you would always be next to him. No matter the day, the time or the circumstances he was yours and you were his. And he would stay right next to you as well, he couldn’t even bear the thought of leaving you.

ℜ𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡!

[penkura]

Scared of Doctors anon again.

I now raise you: Law during his time at Punk Hazard finding y/n while they're still a subject.

Honestly I have too many thoughts about this. It's helping me wait for the dub to come out

Such good ideas though, omg. I'm thinking and more is coming to me for this, it's such a good prompt. There's so many ways it could go!

But for now...

Law had not intended to save you when he came to Punk Hazard. He had a plan, one that would hopefully bring down this Devil Fruit factory and help him get his revenge, it didn't include meeting and getting to know you little by little in the time he was there. You had run into Law by accident when trying to escape, making him curious about what was going on.

You look scared when you first run into him, having turned a corner abruptly and colliding with the young doctor, asking him for help.

"Please, help me get out of here!"

"What?"

There's a fear in your eyes he doesn't like seeing, while you grip his coat tightly and plead with Law to save you, somehow. He knew Caesar was conducting experiments, obviously with the SMILE fruit and everything, but he didn't know the extent, and now he's more curious seeing you.

You look perfectly fine and healthy, there doesn't seem to be a reason why you should be afraid of anything. Most of the people that Law has seen through the lab are willing participants, or they've been bribed by Caesar with something for him to use them. You don't seem to fit either bill, unless there's something hidden that even he can't see.

But his powers should tell him, right? The brief scan he does shows nothing is wrong, though he can see some kind of drugs in your system. He'd have to do his own testing to figure out what they are and what they're for, but you're interrupted by Monet a moment later.

"Oh, I see you've met our oldest patient, doctor."

Law's concerns grow when you immediately remove your hands from him, looking towards the ground with more fear than before. Monet explains you'd been sick with a highly deadly virus three years ago before she and Caesar took you in, away from your home and family, and have been working ever since to find a cure. He watches as you back away bit by bit, turning more into yourself and apologizing, before turning around and running back where you'd come from. When he asks Monet at the illness was, she beats around the bush and doesn't give a straight answer, Law knows something is wrong with this situation but he's not in a position to figure out what it is.

Not until the Straw Hats and the Navy show up anyway. The distractions provided by them allow him the time to find you again, though you still seem fearful of him. He holds his hands up where you can see them, making you tilt your head.

"I won't hurt you. I won't touch you at all. I can use my powers to see about your illness."

"...why bother? I'm gonna die anyway."

How strange, to hear words he'd said so long ago said to his own face, but in such a different situation. After Law explains how his Devil Fruit powers work, you consent to letting him do a proper Scan, and you're confused when he tells you there's no sign of any illnesses in your body. He still sees those drugs in your system, but he doesn't have the time to check what they are yet.

"We're going to destroy this place. You'll have to come with me if you want answers from Caesar."

You really don't know if you should trust him or not, he hasn't given you much of a reason not to apart from being a doctor, like Caesar and Monet had claimed to be. Your voice is shaky when you ask Law if he promises to find out what happened, and when he does, you're almost crying as you nod. Law lets you take his hand, once you've calmed down and agreed to go with him, he starts to lead you to a safer area.

"I won't let anything happen to you, all right? Not until we get you the answers you need."

For some reason, you decide to trust him.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Wednesday x little sister reader, and shes protective like in a motherly way and reader is feeling a bit rebellious I suppose???

Fencing Accidents

|| Wednesday Addams x platonic!sibling!reader

|| Warnings; blood mentions, injured reader, bianca fighting with reader, brief murder mention

|| Summary; when Wednesday decides she's sick of reader, she sends Enid to keep her busy for a while. Enid tries finding something that could excite the reader and hopes fencing might be just what the reader needs.

Requests open!

Started; September 18th

Finished; September 19th

~~~

You were Wednesday Addam's little sister, so to say people at Nevermore Academy liked you... well, that would be a complete lie. Wednesday was pretty much the only person you hung out with. You didn't talk to her roommate Enid all that much; unless Wednesday insisted Enid hung out with you. Which has happened a few times, especially when one of you annoys her past her limits.

This was one of those times. You had bothered Wednesday while she was writing, so she sent Enid to distract you. The two of you sat out at the dorm's balcony, playing a game of cards.

"Go fish," Enid said with a smirk as she looked at you over her card hand.

You simply sighed. Enid had picked this game.

"I hate this," You reached down and picked up another card, adding it to your growing collection.

"You say that about everything, Y/N."

"Maybe because there isn't anything to like." You muttered, Enid frowned when she heard you and had a determined look in her eyes as she stood and grabbed your hand. Card game forgotten.

"Come on! We're going to find something for you to like then!" She said, a bounce in her step as she practically dragged you back into the dorm then into the hall.

Wednesday didn't even look at you guys as she typed away.

"Enid, please..." You tried to protest, but she gave your hand a little pull and smiled as she turned to look at you.

"Wednesday likes fencing, maybe we can start there?" Enid suggested.

"Wednesday also likes murder."

"Um... well-" Enid stuttered out, you fought back a smirk at her reaction. She was so easy to mess with," let's- let's just start with fencing, okay?"

And so that's how you found yourself in a fencing suit. About to face off Enid, the two of you had just gotten into position before Bianca walked over in her own fencing gear.

"Addams, if it's a challenge you're looking for... shouldn't someone more suited be your opponent?" Bianca asked, a certain look in her eyes that you knew just spelled trouble.

Something you were absolutely down for. She did have a point, Enid would not be able to keep up with you. You weren't great at fencing by any means but you weren't terrible either. You'd fenced with Wednesday a few times. Which was partially why you weren't entirely opposed to the idea when you heard it.

You sighed and shrugged," kay."

"Kay?" She repeated in confusion, she was expecting at least a little more of a reaction. But you were an Addams after all. She shared a look with one of the girls next to her who shrugged too. Seeming just as confused.

Bianca ignored that for now and got into position as you did the same.

The match started with you making the first lunge, Bianca blocked you and then lunged forwards herself. You made the decision to dodge as opposed to block.

This back and fourth would continue for the next few moments until you managed to get the first point and the match reset.

Y/N; 1 Bianca; 0

Enid clapped and cheered you on, looking rather excited. Maybe she was thinking she helped you find a hobby.

Really you were just happy to have an excuse to fight Bianca. The way she treated Wednesday always got on your nerves, so you saw this as your chance at some sort of revenge. And revenge was a hobby of yours.

"Masks off." Bianca spoke up, you raised an eyebrow at that.

"Masks off?" You repeated.

"Let's see how good you are without protective gear. We go until first blood." Bianca continued to explain.

"Like what you and Wednesday did?" You replied, having heard the very short version of the story from your sister before.

Bianca nodded," exactly."

This intrigued you. You were definitely fond of the idea of drawing blood, so you agreed. Which made Enid a little nervous.

Meanwhile with Wednesday, Thing had scrambled over to her. Frantically trying to get her attention. He had followed you and Enid, so he was trying to tell Wednesday what was happening.

"Thing, you know I do not like being disturbed during my writing hour." Wednesday didn't look up from her type writer.

Thing crawled onto it and placed himself right in front of the paper, blocking Wednesday's view as he kept trying to sign to her. Telling her what was happening.

"That's her problem, not mine." Wednesday stated," Now move if you value your fingers."

He tried again, explaining the whole going until someone bleeds. This caught Wednesday's attention as she remembered how her fencing match had gone with Bianca.

Back with you and Bianca, you had lost your match to her. With her managing to put a slice on your neck. Your fingers dabbed the spot, feeling the blood there. You couldn't help but grin even just a little.

"One more round?" You asked her, she raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't had enough?"

"Yes, she has." Wednesday's voice caught your attention as she seemingly appeared right next to you. Startling you a bit. When did she get there?

"Wednesday-" You started, she held her hand up to silence you. The look she gave Bianca was bone chilling.

"She's done here." Wednesday and Bianca seemed to be in some sort of stare off, you and Enid exchanged confused glances.

Bianca rolled her eyes and scoffed," whatever."

Wednesday turned to face you," let's go." Her tone was firm, leaving zero room for argument with you.

You groaned and followed after with Enid trailing not to far behind.

Back at the dorm, Wednesday patched up the cut on your neck. Not saying a word the entire time. You could just tell she was annoyed with you and you could practically hear the lecture that was coming.

When she was done, her ice cold gaze met your eyes and you couldn't help but shiver.

"Wednesday-"

"Not a word from you. I believed you to he smarter than that. Seems that I was wrong. You should go back to your dorm, before more trouble finds you."

You weren't exactly happy with how she talked to you, but you listened to her nonetheless. Not wanting to push your luck.

[fieldofdaisiies]

nessian week masterlist

I haven’t done headcanons in a long time, and for this prompt it felt so right to do some fluffy modern Nessian + daughter Alayla ones

while on the outside Cassian is this strong and tough army general, behind closed doors and especially with his daughter, his is this big soft teddy bear

there is not a single wish he would not fulfil his little daughter (or his wonderful wife Nesta)

that can reach from breakfast in bed, to tea parties with her stuffed animals or going to Disney Land

“Try it!” Alayla is beaming, watching how Cassian takes a bite from the chocolate cookie she has just made. She mixed together all sorts of things in the kitchen, Cassian watched her and then helped her bake them (he would never allow her to use the oven alone).

Cassian fights the urge to grimace, tries to force a smile on his lips while nodding, and forcing down the bite. It’s disgusting, but how should he tell her?

“Lovely,” he brings out, still trying to smile.

But Alayla pouts, reading him just as well as her mother. “You hate them?” She furrows her brows, and silver lines her eyes.

So, Cassian is quick, shoving the whole cookie into his mouth and then a second one. “No. Deli-f-oms.” He holds both his thumbs up. “I momf them.”

Alayla also loves to play beauty salon and paint her parents nails, or do their hair

“Your right hand, daddy.” Alayla throws her hands, also the one tightly clasping the nail polish brush with the hot pink tip, into the air. “You need to focus, we are not doing this for fun. This is business.” She rolls her eyes and with the toss of her hair over her right shoulder she reaches for Cassian’s hand and holds it down before starting to paint his thumb and also the skin around it in bright pink.

Nesta laughs, slightly mischievously, from where she is leaning against the doorframe, her gaze moving from her daughter and Cassian to her own hands and the bright orange and pastel green gracing her nails, and the skin around them.

“Mummy always calls you my pretty man so we need to do your hair next.” Alayla thankfully spared Nesta’s hair. She explained to her daughter that it would be lovely if the blow-out she had done just the day before could stay the way it is.

Reluctantly, Alayla had agreed and decided to do Cassian’s hair instead, braiding some strands and pinning others with Barbie and Paw Patrol hair clips. (Also, on more than one occasion has it happened already that Nesta went to work with a one of those hair clips pinned to her hair). 

Rhys and Az will never let Cassian forget that one day he also forgot to remove the hot pink from his nails and fingers and showed up like this to training – “A sight for sore eyes,” as Rhys called it

Az and Rhys have been laughing for a solid twenty minutes, until Cassian came up with some stories about them and their kids

let’s now talk about cuddling

this family loves cuddling

staying in bed on a rainy Sunday, watching Alayla’s favourite shows on the TV in Nesta and Cassian’s bedroom, while eating in bed

“What’s his name?” Cassian asks, taking a big bite from his toast. 

Alayla sighs dramatically and Nesta, laughing, says. “It’s a girl, Cass, and her name is Skye. You finally need to remember.”

“You really do, she’s my favourite.” Alayla grins, mimicking the way Skye, the dog, is flying over the sky. Then she rests her hand on Cassian’s shoulder, and purses her lips. “Who is your favourite?” she asks in a very serious tone. 

Cassian swallows, then squints his eyes at the screen before looking at his daughter. Her eyes are trained on the TV screen and so Cassian throws Nesta a help seeking glance, before mouthing “What is the fire pup’s name?”

Nesta has to hold back from laughing, she bites the insides of her cheeks and then mouths “Marshall.” 

A thankful smile appears on Cassian’s face. “Marshall!”

“Ah!” Alayla taps her chin, nodding slowly. “Interesting.”

Interesting indeed, Cassian thinks when he ends up having to play said dog when Nyx, Dalia and Zada are over for a visit. 

Since they are three girls and only one boy (Nyx wants to be Chase, Dalia Everest, Zada Zuma) they are in need of another male dog and since Cassian’s favourite is Marshall, he earns himself this roll, much to Nesta’s amusement

and lastly, Cassian is a great cook and there is nothing better for Nesta and Alayla to enjoy one of his amazing meals

Cassian who was alone a lot as a child due to his mother working so much learned to cook very early on

He creates amazing meals, some of them are only reserved for his family

Nesta will never stop praising his talent, and the same goes for Alayla who boasts to her cousins and friends that her father is the best cook in the entire world

tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt (no smut) @crushedcloudx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan @burningsnowleopard @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @bookishbroadwaybish

for @nessianweek💛