#think he would've looked good in gold

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

7TH NEW WAKUI ART, IT'S SHINICHIRO!

[pwinkprincess]

prettiest thing ୨ৎ

you and onyankopon rarely argue. you’re his good girl, you never had a remark or debated with anything he said. he would never tell you anything to hurt you or put you in harm's way which is why you allowed him to be the provider and the thinker of the relationship while you just had to be pretty and spend his money. it’s a dynamic that the both of you liked and preferred. another reason why the dynamic works so well is because onyankopon is naturally dominant, he tends to take over situations without even trying. that goes for both his personal and business life.

you hated when those moments of tranquility between the two of you got interrupted from emotions and overthinking. both you and onyankopon are very secure people, there’s no qualms about attractiveness and if your personalities matched up. but, at the end of day you’re human. and with onyankopon being your first ever serious boyfriend, you sometimes doubted yourself and even worse; him and the relationship. you couldn’t help it! you really couldn’t, you tried to remind yourself that onyankopon has never given you a reason to doubt him but your overthinking didn’t care.

your bottom lip pokes out as your glossy eyes reread the map. onyankopon’s location is nowhere to be found and your man always shares his location with you. most of the time, the roles were reversed and he was very stern about you sharing your location with him 24/7. you couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly stop sharing it with you. your heart thumps heavily in your chest as you instantly start thinking about the worst.

“when’s the last time y’all talked?” zinnia asks. she sits beside you, a look of irritation etched onto her face.

you sniffle as you think back to the last time you talked to onyankopon. he had been driving you home after a long day of running errands. they were more so his errands than yours but you just wanted to be around him so you begged him to let you come with. the day has started off great. the two of you laughed, rapped and sung songs together, the vibes were just right. it was nearing night when onyankopon had gone inside the wingstop to order the two of you food as a completion of the day. while he was inside the restaurant, you were on his phone; scrolling on his facebook. you always claimed his facebook is way more interesting than yours which is why you lurked on people’s accounts through his. as you were reading facebook drama in a very messy comment section, onyankopon’s phone suddenly gets a notification from instagram.

‘you’re welcome handsome’. almost instantly, your hands begin to shake as you press the notification tab. you watch, breathless, as messages pop up from onyankopon and the mystery woman. onyankopon had posted a video of himself on his story. of course he looked good, your man always does. he’s an attractive guy so you had prepared yourself from the beginning to witness women texting and complimenting him. which is fine, but you would've never thought he’d disrespect you by responding back. with a shaky finger, you scrolled to the beginning of the message thread which wasn’t very far.

‘you so fine omggg’ which is something you’ve seen many girls telling him. your eyes focus on what the man had said back,

‘lol preciate it ma 💗’ you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry. ma? a heart? you couldn’t understand why he decided to respond to her in the first place. taking an uneven breath, you locked his phone and threw it down into the cupholder. tears form in your eyes as you stare out of the window, watching as cars of various sizes and colors zoom past the parked car. so many thoughts were racing through your head, you’ve never felt so much betrayal in your life. you sniffle as a few spare tears roll down your face.

when onyankopon returns with two wingstop bags and a holder that had two large cups sitting in it, he’s all smiles. his gold grills glint under the streetlight. he opens the door and sees right away that your attitude has completely changed. he can’t stop the confused expression from forming on his face. he sets the cups into the cupholders and the wingstop bag onto your lap. he doesn’t pull off right away. instead, he sits there for a few moments trying to wreck his brain on what could have possibly gone wrong in the span of about ten minutes.

“what’s wrong, mama?” he asks, cautiously.

you don’t respond, vocally. instead of using your words you just twist your body towards the door and tilt your head completely towards the window. you were so upset with him, just hearing his voice caused you to grow ten times more upset. your sniffles fill the quiet car while onyankopon waits for you to reply to him.

he raises an eyebrow as he comes to the realization that you’re not going to respond to him. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” you were being disrespectful right now and this isn’t like you. he attempts to give you leeway because you have never behaved in such a way before. “talk to me, baby..” he pleads.

and god, when his voice deepens like that and he sounds so needy一you have to remind yourself to stay mad at him. you let out a loud sigh when you decide to look at him.

onyankopon’s heart almost skips a beat when the two of you finally make eye contact and he sees that your eyes are bloodshot red and there are stray tears still threatening to spill. he asks in a tone that shakes, “why you cryin’, mama?”

“c-cause you’re fucking disrespectful.” you cry out. the dam that was straining to hold up broke just by you looking at him.

onyankopon looks at you with wide eyes. he’s never once disrespected you. he’s never called you out of your name, mocked you, spoke condescendingly to you. you two have barely been together for an entire year and he had already gifted you everything and more. he tries to not be offended by your accusation.

“how am i disrespectful?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“how are you not? why the fuck ar-” you’re cut off from onyankopon kissing his teeth.

“stop cursin’, deadass. you can explain yourself without cursin’ like a damn sailor.” his tone doesn't make room for discussion.

you roll your eyes at his statement. onyankopon has always been firm when it comes to your habit of cursing, he always says ‘pretty girls don’t curse’ and tries to catch you every time you let a curse word slip out. right now, you didn’t have the time or patience for his lecturing.

but still, you rephrased yourself. “why are you replying to girls on instagram?” you ask in the most composed manner you can manage.

onyankopon gives you a confused mean mug, “what girls?”

you breath roughly through your nose. “you know what girls, onyankopon.”

onyankopon sighs, “i genuinely don’t, mama.”

you felt like crying from annoyance, why did he feel like now was the time to play? “look on instagram.”

ony grabs his phone and opens instagram. he sees that you had already opened his most recent chat. he reread the messages and viewed the account and quickly realized why you were upset. he stays quiet because he genuinely had no explanation on why he decided to respond to her. of course, he didn’t see her as attractive or anything. he had eyes for you and only you, no other woman could get in between that.

sighing, he set his phone down. he bit down on his lip as he tried to gather the words to tell you. he didn’t compliment her back or completely indulge in her, all he said was that he appreciated the compliment. he didn’t see what was wrong with that.

“look, i know-” he cut himself off as he continued to struggle.

“look at you, fucking struggling to talk cause you know you fucked up.” you spat the words out angrily. your pretty glossy lips are frowned up and onyankopon didn’t like that one bit.

“stop cursin.” he muttered.

“i’m fucking grown, nigga. just like you chose to respond to that bitch, i choose to curse whenever the fuck i want.” you were talking recklessly because you were mad. on an average day, those ugly words would never be spewing from your pretty mouth. also, you would never be talking to your man like this.

“bro chill with yo fuckin’ mouth!” onyankopon ‘s tone rises by a lot. there’s a pointed look in his eyes as he tries to put you in your place.

“me chill? you chill, nigga! fucking disrespectful ass! texting bitches back and calling them ma and shit.. fuck you, nigga!” your voice cracks at the end of your sentence. you weren’t crying out of sadness, you were crying out of anger. truthfully, you wanted to swing off on him but you’ve never thrown a punch in your life and onyankopon would probably choke you the fuck out.

“’m not puttin’ up wit’ dis shit.” onyankopon grumbles. he presses the start button and his car roars to life. “ain’t never called you out yo’ name. ain’t never did shit to hurt you, man. i try to give you the damn world.” your eyes widen when you hear onyankopon’s voice crack throughout his rant, you throw a quick glance at him and have to fight the surprised look on your face when you see his pretty brown eyes glossed over.

you can’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “texting other girls and calling them ma is giving me the world?” you chuckle sarcastically. “there’s no telling how many girls you entertain behind my back.”

onyankopon shakes his head while listening to you accuse him. “you can go through my entire fuckin’ phone right now and you ain’t gon’ find shit besides that. i ain’t talk to no other girls since i’ve been knowin’ you.”

“i can’t trust anything you say anymore.” you mutter.

“really? i’ve told you shit about me that i ain’t told no one else. shit about my childhood, about my life, how i became me ‘nd now you can’t trust me..” he lets out a breath that resembles a chuckle while shaking his head. “you’re my world, you’re my fresh breath of air from the streets, ‘nd now the reason why i’m going so hard. pickin’ up new clients, ‘nd putting my life at risk so i can buy you shit ‘nd now you’re sayin’ you can’t trust me anymore. alright, bro.”

you don’t say anything, you only turn your head and look out of the passenger seat window for the remainder of the drive.

onyankopon puts the car in park once he arrives in your driveway. you’re quick to hop out grabbing only your purse. you skim the driveway and realize that your parents aren’t home which you’re grateful for. you don’t have time to be bombarded with questions. while you’re unlocking the front door, you could hear onyankopon’s feet traveling behind you. you almost felt bad for leaving him to carry the bags and cups alone but in the moment of anger, you couldn’t care less if he needed help or not.

you open the door wide enough so that the two of you could step in. you kick your shoes off by the front door while he walks into the dining room and sets the food onto the table. the silence between the two of you is tense, you’ve never been so quiet around him and vice versa.

“‘mma go.” onyankopon suddenly says while looking down at his phone. he’s tapping furiously and his eyebrows are clenched in a way that shows annoyance.

“what? what about our food?” you ask with a frown. you go to stand in front of him. his towering height causes butterflies in your stomach whenever you stand near him.

“eat it or somethin’. i don’t care what you do with it.” he shrugs, finally looking away from his phone. you almost want to cry again. you’ve never heard onyankopon be so disinterested with you. he’s usually always so soft and understanding when he’s around you, so to hear him talk to you like you’re some stranger off the street; more than you'd want to admit, hurts your feelings.

“okay..” you sigh, obviously defeated.

usually, when he’s leaving out he’d litter your face and lips with kisses while telling you he’d be back. but this time he only gives you a brief side hug. “i’ll see you around, _.” your heart absolutely hurts when he uses your government name. when you hear the front door slam shut and the loud cranking from his car, you instantly burst into tears.

“three days ago.” you tell zinnia as your sudden flashback leaves your head. just thinking about what happens causes your eyes to go glossy. you’ve been crying ever since he left you standing in your dining room.

“after that incident?” zinnia asks, nosily.

“i messaged him an hour later.” you tell her. “i-i told him i loved him.. and he.. he just left me on read.” your shoulders shake as you clutch your face, you were so tired of crying but you didn’t know what else to do.

“awe, boo..” zinnia says sympathetically. she quickly clutches you into a hug. the smell of her perfume fills your nostrils as you cry onto her.

“i.. should’ve never said anything.. i should’ve j-just pretended i didn’t see it.” you say through sniffles. regret has been lingering on your heart a lot lately. you’ve been filled with should've, could’ve, and would’ves. your life has consisted of moping around the house and crying in bed.

onyankopon wasn’t exactly giving you the reassurance you desperately needed at the moment and it was causing you to absolutely spiral. you just wished he would at least text you a simple ‘i’m not mad at you’ or something of that sort. you’re aware of the type of lifestyle he lives on a day to day basis, you’re always making sure to pray for him asking for him to be protected as he gets his money in the only way he knows how. and for his location to suddenly go off has you on the absolute edge.

“nah, snookie.” the childhood nickname has you momentarily cringing. “you did the right thing by speakin’ up, boo. you seen bullshit so you spoke on it. what he did was that.. uhm.. what they call it…” she pauses and seems to be deep in thought. “ohh! that manipulation shit.”

you instantly sit up from her arms. “nah, zinnia ‘m not getting manipulated.” your soft voice has a defensive edge to it. “he just felt some type of way ‘cause he does so much for me and i called him out of his name and stuff.” you defend onyankopon way too quickly for someone that ghosted you.

zinnia gives you a look that you can’t exactly read. “whatever you say, boo.” she says. it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you from the way she shakes her while saying it.

“can you just..” you sigh out, the way you were feeling over onyankopon was a feeling you have never felt in your life before. it felt as if your heart was tearing into two pieces and no matter how much you tried to take your mind off of him and the situation, it still replays in your head. “can we cuddle?”

“awe, snooks, of course, boo.” she makes quick work of ashing her blunt and shuffling the two of you so that she could hold you comfortably.

the two of you lay there, silently. your head is adjusted onto her chest, the sound of her heart thumping fills your ears as you lose yourself to your thoughts. so many what ifs are running through your head. your overthinking is almost suffocating you in a way. as you lay there, thinking of the worst you try to rationalize and also think of the good. that was a habit you tended to do. you always tried to see the good in people and every situation. because of your optimism, you were often taken advantage of.

you didn’t purposely upset onyankopon. you felt hurt and as a result you felt the need to hurt. if you had known that bringing up the message, you would have never brought it up. you would rather suffer and not speak on it than to fully stop speaking to onyankopon. it was different, going from spending all your time with someone to not talking for three days straight. this being your first ever serious relationship, you didn’t know what to do. you weren’t sure if you were supposed to blow up his phone or give him time to cool off. all you want is to speak with him and hear his voice, to get reassurance that he’s well and alive, to hear him admit that he isn't angry with you.

you don’t realize it but you somehow doze off in zinnia’s embrace. your soft snores fill her ears and she coos out a soft “awee” while rubbing your back. with her being the older cousin and you not having any siblings, she felt as if it is her duty to help you get through your first heartbreak. she’s been through your shoes many times before; overthinking, crying, getting upset, getting manipulated, she’s gone through it all. as much as she wants to just shake your shoulders and scream for you to gain some sense, she won’t. she has to allow you to maneuver through life with firsthand experience, that includes getting your heartbroken.

she’s known onyankopon for many years, since middle school to be exact. she witnessed the man mature and adopt his doggish ways. to her, you’re too naive for ony. since you’re an only child your parents tended to shield you away from just about everything during your childhood and teen years. their overbearingness has rubbed off on you giving you this innocent curious nature. of course, you get upset and curse but every threat you give off is empty. she knows onyankopon, and she knows that he likes girls like you. girls who are easy to manipulate and have access to. she regrets deeply advising you to come to the party with her. if she would’ve let you stay home, you would’ve never met him.

you’re suddenly awakened by a phone buzzing. you yawn and stretch, your eyes dart to your window and you could see the light from the moon peeking through your opened blinds. you rub your eyes and stretch once more before looking at zinnia’s phone that’s ringing on your nightstand. you reach over her and grab it, once you see that it’s sasha you press the answer button.

“hello?” your voice is scratchy from the hours you went without water.

“snookie?” she asks. by her tone you could tell she’s upset and that causes you to fully wake up. an angry sasha is a scary sasha.

“hi, sash. it’s me.”

“hey, boo. where’s zinnia?” she seems impatient, her words are rushed out.

“beside me, sleeping.” your eyes do a once over on zinnia who’s drooling onto your pillow. her chest heaves while heavy breaths escape through her nose.

“yeah, no. wake her up for me.”

“sash, you kno-” you’re cut off by sasha’s loud sighing into the phone.

“snookie, boo, just listen to me. wake zinnia up and put her on the phone.” she says.

without another word, your hand lands onto her side and you begin shaking zinnia awake. after a minute of repeating her name and shaking her, she finally wakes up. a mean mug is immediately on her face as she rises up from her sleeping position. she stretches, letting out a loud dramatic moan.

“whatchu shaking me for?” her tone is hostile. zinnia absolutely hates being woken up which is why you were hesitant from the beginning.

“sasha wants you.” you hand her her phone, watching as she rolls her eyes before speaking up.

“girl, what you want?” her full lips are pulled into a frown as she listens to whatever sasha says. “wait, who’s story?” she asks while opening instagram. she types on her keyboard for a few seconds and then stops. she goes quiet as she watches whatever sasha told her to watch. you could hear multiple voices and the sound of loud music coming from her phone, you curiously lean over to see and that’s when zinnia quickly tilts her phone. she ignores the confused look you throw to her.

“bro.. ’m gonna fuckin’ kill dis nigga.” zinnia says after a few moments of silence. she puts the phone back up to her ear, her hazel eyes dart to you a few times and then they look away. “brooo, we’re about to throw something cute on. come scoop.” at those words, you’re entirely intrigued. you mouth at her ‘what’ and she only shakes her head and ignores you. “yeah, i thought i saw connie’s baldheaded ass in the background. ‘mma get his ass too.”

once zinnia says her goodbyes, she hangs up and lets out a heavy breath. “snookie, y’know i love you right?” she asks, suddenly.

“yeah. i love you too.” you giggle nervously.

“‘nd i just want you to know you don’t need a nigga for shit as long as i’m livin’ and breathin’.” she continues.

“i hear you.” you reply.

“what ‘m about to show you, you gotta practice me you’re not gonna cry.” she negotiates.

“you know ‘m a crybaby!” you groan with a smile. “i promise you i’ll try to not cry.”

she deems that good enough because she’s hesitantly showing you her phone.some might think you’re being dramatic if they were to hear you say you physically felt your heart break. and you could understand, heartbreak is a literary term and not literal one. however, you were experiencing a heartache at that exact moment. gasping was all you could do as your breathing became trapped in your chest. because you couldn't, you didn't cry. in total shock, you were motionless. you could feel zinnia’s arms wrap around you but it’s almost like a barrier was completely stopping her from touching you, or that’s what it felt like anyway.

your eyes rewatch the screen for what felt like the 100th time. your ony is right there, but so is a woman. she’s bent over in front of him, her ass is pressed against his pelvis. she’s shaking her ass to the beat of the song that’s playing and onyankopon’s hands are clutching her wide hips while she twerks. they both have a big smile on their faces while people in the background hype them. you watch in horror as onyankopon brings a hand up only to quickly bring it down onto her ass. as the video comes to an end, the camera darts to connie who’s obviously drunk, hyping them up the most. he’s pouring a half full bottle of hennessy into onyankopon’s mouth while screaming absolute nonsense out.

“we’re going to get dressed and we’re going to that party. we’re gonna whoop onyankopon, that bitch, and connie’s ass.” zinnia says. her tone is serious and the glare in her eyes tell you that she means every word she’s saying.

“there’s no point, zinnia.” you shrug as tears race down your face. “he’s single, he can do whatever he wants.”

zinnia gives you a look of confusion and irritation. “girl, to hell with that. y’all get into one big augment and now he’s moving like this. we’re not letting this shit slide, bro.” her tone excludes any kind of debate.

it doesn’t feel like you’re there physically when zinnia urges you into the bathroom to clean yourself up a little. you’re zoned out the entire time while brushing your teeth and applying light makeup. your eyes stay glossed over but tears don’t fall. your legs shake like jelly, you feel weak; emotionally and physically. you didn’t know where to go from here. all you wanted at the moment was for ony to come over and hold you while kissing your head and promising you everything would be alright like he usually does. the person that hurt you is the person you’re craving the most.

zinnia is sympathetic the entire time the two of you get dressed. you didn’t want to go confront ony, honestly. you just wanted to lay in bed and rot away. the thought of being in an outside setting at this current moment seemed draining. what would you even say to him? there isn’t even anything to say to him.

everything moves too fast and sasha pulls up in front of your house sooner than you wanted her to. an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you look over your outfit. a pink spaghetti strap sleeveless dress hugs your figure, loudly emphasizing every curve you have. you couldn’t even feel pretty if you wanted to, your mind goes back to the woman that was twerking on ony and your heart quivers. the way he grabbed her hips, the same way he did that one night where he had you chanting his name like a prayer. you let out a breath and quickly look away from the mirror.

zinnia leads you through the living room where your mother is sitting in the living room watching judge judy in a nightgown she's had since you were born. meanwhile, your father sits exactly beside her, playing pool on his phone. “ohh, where y’all going?” your mother asks.

you can’t find it in you to talk and zinnia seems to quickly catch on to that. “we’re gonna go pop at this party right quick.” she tells her.

your mother’s eyes dart from your head to your toes. her eyes go back to your face and she can instantly tell something isn’t right with her daughter. she decides she’ll wait until it’s just the two of you to comment on it. “y’all be safe ‘nd stay together. if one has to go to the bathroom, the other follows in tow.” your mother lectures.

you both agree to her words and walk out of the house. you could feel her eyes burning a hole into your back but you refuse to turn around. if you were to break down crying, she would immediately forbid you from going out tonight. that’s one of the difficult parts of being an only child. your parents sometimes get too overbearing without even meaning to. privacy is something you just started getting once you turned 18. you still remember the way your mother almost fainted when the two of you were having girl talk and you had admitted that you and ony had sex for the first time. you still haven’t forgiven her for running back to your father and telling her, he had given you the cold shoulder for two weeks. as much as your parents could be a handful, their intentions were never bad. you’re their only child so they tend to shield you a bit too much because of that.

when you enter the backseat of sash’s pink wrapped dodge charger, the smell of weed immediately hits your nose. your nose scrunches in reflex. you absolutely despise the smell of weed, it’s too strong for your liking.

“wassup, bitches!” sasha greets the two of you. sexyy red plays lowly, she had gotten those overdramatic speakers installed so the bass was almost overpowering.

“pass the blunt, hoe.” zinnia rolls her eyes.

“hi, sasha.” you greet with a slight smile that almost hurts to put on your face.

“you okay, bookie?” she tilts all the way in her seat so that she could make eye contact with you. her almost cracks seeing the redness in your eyes. “we gon’ get shit straight. trust. when i see connie and ony ‘m punching them dead in their shit.”

zinnia quickly agrees as she lights the blunt up. you let out a soft laugh, “y’all there’s no reason to get violent.”

she inhales for a few seconds before letting out a large cloud of smoke. “yeah, okay.” she says sarcastically.

sasha pulls off, the song f my baby dad and instantly sasha turns the music up. both her and zinnia begin screaming the lyrics.

“my nigga actin’ up so you know ‘m finna pop it!” zinnia screams to no one in particular.

“y’all,” sasha turns the music down once she gets to a red light, “me and connie had our first pregnancy scare some weeks ago.”

both you and zinnia shook your heads at her words. you truthfully were surprised that sasha wasn’t on her second child with connie, from the extreme stories she told the two of you about her love life, it’s only a wonder that she isn’t carrying.

“girl! why you shaking your head?! a lil’ birdie told me that ony had to buy your lil ass a plan b!” sasha looks at you through the rearview mirror.

your eyes immediately dart towards zinnia, she’s the only person you disclosed that information to. zinnia quickly turns the music up, pretending she didn’t hear sasha’s accusation.

when sasha parks near the house that’s throwing the party, you feel so afraid that you immediately want to throw up. you were doing good not crying but reality seems to settle in and you realize you’re actually about to confront ony. a lump forms in your throat that you struggle to swallow down. you’re looking out of the window, at the house. you’re so caught up in your head that you don’t realize both zinnia and sasha are looking at you in worry.

you’ve been anxious since a child. you’re the ‘come with me’ friend. it’s something you hated. there’s been numerous times you’ve wished and prayed that anxiety didn’t control your life. you struggled extremely with confrontation. maybe that’s why you and ony got along so well. you never questioned him or any of that sort. you prefer to sit back and watch rather than being in the spotlight, being perceived. that goes for family, friends, and strangers. you weren’t even tearing up from what ony did, while that did have a part in your tears, you were more so dreading the thought of speaking up to him.

“you okay, snookie?” zinnia asks, worriedly.

you inhale sharply, “y-yeah. can we just.. get this over with, please?”

they both share a glance before agreeing. the three of you exit the car, the sounds of purses, bracelets and y’all’s slide sandals sync as you walk towards the house.

“we’re so bad.” sasha sighs while looking over the three of you to make sure you all looked good.

once you enter the house, you’re immediately blinded by flashing lights. the air is hot and humid as numerous people rub against each other. loud speakers blast rap music and you could faintly hear people rapping along with the rapper. alcohol, weed, and sweat fills your nose making you internally gag. this is the second party you’ve ever came to and you want to leave right away. sasha grabs zinnia’s hand, and zinnia grabs your hand. sasha leads you three to the kitchen that’s only filled with a few people. out of the corner of your eye, you could see a couple sloppily making out against the refrigerator.

“here.” sasha hands you a small glass that is filled with something clear. “take a shot or two and loosen up.”

following her instructions, you take two shots straight. bile rises and you have to swallow it causing you to gag. you feel your body shiver as you attempt to digest the alcohol. you take a gulp from the red bull that zinnia gives you, trying to ease the burning sensation in your throat.

“they’re all in the livin’ room, i seen them all huddled up and shit.” sasha comments while holding a cup in her hand.

“les go.” zinnia doesn’t waste any time making her way over to them.

you follow the girls along with legs that feel like jelly. the closer you come to the group, the faster your heart beats inside your chest. when you're just a few steps away, the scent of weed hits you powerfully.

“ohhh!” connie screams once he sees the three of you walk up. “we got zinnia in da housseeeeeee! ohhh shitttt! y’all don’ got itty bitty’s ass to get out of daaa houseeee! whaaaatttt! oh, ‘nd sasha is here too.. i guesssss.” connie is obviously intoxicated as he slurs over his words.

immediately, the rest of the guys' heads snap in y'all's direction. you somehow hear armin let out a “oh lord” once he sees the expressions on sasha and zinnia’s faces.

“connie shut that shit up, boy! what that hell are you screaming for?!” sasha wastes no time grabbing connie by his shirt.

“unhand me you beast!” connie screams dramatically.

sasha rolls her eyes at connie’s antics. her eyes dart from face to face until they land on ony, who’s sitting there manspreading. there’s an uninterested look on his face as he views your trio before his eyes locate onto you and you only. eye contact that you haven’t held in three days. that lazy head tilt and seeing his full lips pressed straight, you have to force yourself to look elsewhere. you refuse to get sucked into his hypnotizing eyes once again.

“you. stand up, i wanna fight.” she tells ony.

ony looks at her boredly, his eyes are glossed and lidded. “sasha, gone somewhere, man.” “beat her ass, ony. ‘m too scared t’do it.” connie says from his grasp in sasha’s hand.

ony's eyes dart over to you. there's a look on his face that makes your knees almost buckle. your heart speeds up in your chest and you can tell from the shift in the atmosphere that something is about to pop off.

[feyascorner]

Sure, Astarion has his reasons for being the way he is, but he wasn't a good man before Cazador either.

He was a corrupt magistrate of high society, who had an insatiable thirst for power and immortality. He got it in the end, but at a cost he never expected to pay.

So imagine if he and Tav met centuries before the events of the game? Tav being one of the “commoners” he looks down upon, scrunching his nose in disgust at the library when your fingers brush against one another as you try to reach for the same book. He yanks his hand away so abruptly that it makes you blink.

“Ah, sorry, did you want it?” you hold out the book in his direction, but he’s already scowling. You’re by no means filthy, but he thinks you might as well be with how your clothes would fetch less than a few dozen gold pieces at the local market. And rather than having your hair neatly arranged like other ladies of high society, yours is messily tied back with a string, in a manner he'd consider disheveled.

“I did,” he mutters in return. “You can keep the damn thing, dear. I no longer have any need for it.”

You don’t know where this snarkiness is coming from, so all you can do is watch as he strides away, lips sealed in a confident yet mildly annoyed frown. He swears he won't return to this library again if those are the kinds of guests they allow in these days.

So imagine his surprise when he meets you at the nautiloid crash site. Well, he doesn't recognize you at first. You don't either. Who would? You've only said one sentence to one another. But when you see him reading at his tent, you mention favorite books of your own even though he never actually asked. Within them, is the very title of the book he let you have—which happens to be some obscure book basically nobody else reads.

He remembers you, because his encounter with you was just a day before he’d been ambushed and turned into what he is. And it’s an underestimate to say he's reimagined that very day at least a few hundred times in his head.

The same can't be said for you. You remain oblivious.

But he's different now. He stitches the rips on his own shirt at least a dozen times a month, making sure the seams blend flawlessly and the cloth makes him look as flattering as he possibly can. In the past, he would've made the expensive personal tailors do the work, but 200 years as a slave can enact more than a few lifestyle changes to an elf.

However, similar to then, he notices you're still struggling in your own ability to sew.

“Like this, darling,” he says again. “Through the loop, here.”

As you marvel innocently at his handiwork, he smiles. He's not sure how you can derive such joy from a simple needle with a thread, but he doesn't complain about the way you fawn over him rather than anyone else. He thinks about his first reaction to you, much to his avoidance. He misjudged you at the time. Terribly. And while he’ll come around to telling you eventually, he’d rather find little ways to make up for it for now.

And if he has to use a needle on the rips of your pants to do so, so be it. Besides, he thinks he likes sewing—especially when it’s for you.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

For @orange-artist ‘s ASL god AU DTIYS! (congrats on the milestone!)

This was really fun, I absolutely love drawing ethereal designs

Additional notes 👇

So i adjusted the original designs ... a bit... To draw in my style means that i have to make everything extra, sorry.

Ace:

I like the base design for Ace a lot! i looked at other posts to get more context to these outfits and i say this draping billowy pants design that i liked a lot more, so I used that instead of the ones he has in the picture.

I love his cute little star crown, i think it looks dope as hell. I wanted to bring it to other parts of him too, so I gave him an arm cuff with it, too! If i had drawn the front of him, you would also see that crown design around his waist as a belt, too.

i originally had him in a pose similar to the one he has in the original, but after i sketched out the other two poses i found he looked a little two flat, so i brought his hand out to the foreground.

I like the choice for his hair to gradient out to look like a comet! I had a lot of trouble trying to make it look Just Right, but i think I nailed it

Luffy:

I didn't change much about his design, I really just made him a little more yellow than he was before. Its hard to improve an already banger design. He's my ethereal silly guy...

I really love the idea of Luffy's scars looking like gold, that's really cool.

I wish I could've added that cold crown he has around his head, but i didn't know how to without it looking sloppy so i had to leave it out.

Sabo:

I changed so much about Sabo's design, i would like to send out a formal apology for it, I admit I went a little too ham. I had already completed the picture before i went back to look at the original post and saw the comments about how Sabo was supposed to look... discreet...... I... Did Not Make Him Discreet. In The Slightest. :DDD ehe

I needed help for Sabo's pose because i was having so much trouble with the hand, i called upon my good website friend JustSketchMe to get it right. I had this idea for the pose because i wanted the claw to look like a crescent moon, I think it looks pretty good.

I would've given him normal snakebite piercings too but i felt that the ring piercings looked more Crescent-like, so i went with that.

Moon belt. i want that moon belt. I have no outfits it would go with. but i still want it.

I love Sabo's whispies that he has in the original design, but when I put them in the art i had, it cluttered up the piece too much and I had to get rid of them. A moment of silence for the fallen whispies...

Noticing now I forgot Sabo's Cane..... oops.

General:

I shaded Luffy to be lighted by the sun, Sabo the moon, but i made Ace be the light for himself. There's some deep meaning to that, but I cant think of one right now.

I had a lot of fun drawing this, i hope i was failthful enough to the original designs even though i changed everything a lot :)

Drinking game: take a shot everytime I used the word "I", take a double shot each time i forgot to capitalize it, too. You will be Dead by the end of the post, though.

[lissomeingenuestuff]

CLARA BOW // charles leclerc - pt. 2

charles leclerc x figureskater!reader

part 1 part 3 part 4

summary: you're an aspiring olympic gold medalist who just wants to compete and have fun. on the way there, a handsome monegasque f1 driver slides into your dms and changes the trajectory of your life.

note: so i woke up to part one of this having over 300 notes?? what the heck you guys 😭 thank you so much! here's a speedy part two as a thank you 🙏🏻

capital indoor stadium beijing, china

"Annyeong (Bye), Hana!" Y/N called out, giggling as the little girl waved wildly, struggling against her babysitter who was trying to take her away.

"Bye, Y/N!!!" she yelled back, her English as unsteady and lisping as Y/N's Korean was.

The figure skater shook her head, smiling. Hana could be a handful and a little spoiled, but she really was a joy to be around, and a weight taken off Y/N's shoulders in the face of the upcoming competition. Even though skating with her had taken some of Y/N's precious rest time away, she couldn't help but be happy still. Going back to the Olympic Village early would've only meant that she would agonize over everything that could possibly go wrong tomorrow, and that was the last thing she needed with all of the tenseness and pressure that was already permeating the rink's atmosphere.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Rafael Arutyunyan, one of her coaches asked as she slid over to the barriers.

"Yes," she avoided looking at his face, knowing there would only be disapproval there. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Hm. Well, you know what I think."

"Hana's a sweet kid," Y/N defended, sliding to a stop in front of the rink's entrance.

"I never said she wasn't," Rafael pointed out, handing her her blade guards.

Y/N began putting them on as her coach continued, "Just that this is not the kind of distraction you need the day before the competition."

"It was either this or go to my room and mope. Which would you have rather I'd done?" Pulling her red Team USA jacket on, she continued, "Besides, Adam said it was fine."

"Adam's looking at it from a PR perspective," Rafael rolled his eyes. "You know that."

"It's good for my mindset." Y/N shrugged, ignoring the cameras clicking away from the media journalists by the sideboards. "If it's also good PR, then it can't be all that bad, can it?"

"I just don't want it to affect your performance, come competition day."

Y/N sighed affectionately and pat his shoulder.

"I'll be fine, Raf. If anything's going to hurt my skating, it's not going to be this."

cassievilleneuve

liked by y/n l/n, isabeau.levito, and 3,271 others

cassievilleneuve my companion, my best friend, my soul sister. words can't express how proud i am of you and your accomplishments. we've both wanted to go to the olympics since we were little girls, and i'm so thrilled that you made it there 🥹 know that i'm there with you in spirit, and go kill it out there tomorrow.

love, the wicked witch 🧙🏻‍♀️

view all 16 comments...

y/n l/n there would be no glinda if there weren't an elphaba 💙 ily so so much cass! next time, we'll both be doing it together, i just know it.

karebearsk8 ahhh look what you did cass, you've made her cry 😄

y/n l/n LIES

isabeau.levito so proud of both of you ❤️ ❤️ by y/n l/n

y/n l/n thank you issy 🥰

daniel3.jpg

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 375,187 others

daniel3.jpg caught in 4k 😳

view all 617 comments...

melisasimp how is Charles perfect in all angles😩😭

kimmiegrantxo Thank you for your service, sir 🫡

daphnemller I have been fed 😩

charles_leclerc MATE!?

landonorris he's so pathetic 😄

amyisawag asdfjhskfjd lando??? 😭

carlossainz55 where is the lie

oscarpiastri pathetic AND obsessed

charles_leclerc BLOCKED. all of you BLOCKED.

detectivelana guys guys i think we're focusing on the wrong thing here. charles is fine and all, but what's the common thread through all of these pictures? his phone. what else? his smile. in conclusion, who is charles smiling at on his phone and how do we get the grid to spill?

mellymellmell no no you're so right??

amyisawag @daniel3.jpg

daphnemller @daniel3.jpg

daniel3.jpg sorry, been sworn to secrecy 🤐

[mickyschumacher]

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: carlos sainz and you have an on and off relationship: full of an alluring pain. and no matter what, it seems you two always come back to one another. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), infidelity, toxic relationship, reader has a vagina, unprotected sex (wrap it up like a gift!), reader slaps carlos, crying, ANGST, carlos bordering on being a sadist, cumming inside, fingering in the car, that being said - dangerous car driving, oral sex, incorrect model stuff probs, severely poorly utilised spanish, probs poorly written smut lol, probably missing plot holes but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is poorly based off taylor swift' 'style'. i hadn't realised i turned such a nice song into something well um... not nice? proof-read but as always, don't hold it against me!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Before you even started your cat-and-mouse game with Carlos, you were well aware that he was trouble the moment he walked into the room.

Scratch that.

Formula One drivers were nuisances. Ask any other model on the street and they would probably agree with you.

You knew that it was a relationship you probably shouldn't even be in. He was always going to be away in a new country every other week while you were doing photoshoots and walking runways. You would barely have time with each other. You don't think that you could even label such a relationship 'long distance'.

So when your management sent you down to the infamous Monaco Grand Prix as eye-candy, how were you to deny those brown eyes constantly lingering on you, following your body as he sported a smug smile? No one would be in their right mind to not fall for a guy like Carlos.

The heated gazes, the flirty comments, the burning brushes of touch... it was clear for the both of you that you had to be together.

But of course, despite knowing all of this, you couldn't help still feel a bit emotional about your relationship.

midnight

you come and pick me up, no headlights

long drive

could end in burning flames or paradise

fade into view, oh

it's been a while since i have even heard from you

Here you were. In Miami. The sun had fully set and the rare few stars you could find had taken up their night shift.

You were just leaving the office of your management after having a discussion on what photoshoots you were doing in the upcoming weeks and what events you were attending.

Chanel, Dior, Ralph Lauren, YSL, Louis Vuitton...

Brands on any other general day you would've love to talk about. But your mind was in a state of disarray after receiving a message from a certain Spaniard.

hot spanish polla (prick)

pick you up in 15, princesa (princess)

behind your office.

Even now, looking at the message again, you let out a scoff. You scrolled up, finding the last message you had sent to him. In January.

It was currently May.

Your fingers clenched around your phone as you let out a shaky sigh. Despite all the rage you felt, of course you were here, in the secluded area of your company.

You looked down at your clothes. A model life meant wearing 'fashionable' clothes. You, your manager, and your stylist often pre-agreed on the outfits you wore just for the sake of your image. Today, your stylist had dressed you in a black mini skirt and maroon sweater. You neck and ears all adorned in thin gold jewellery while you feet were hugged by a classic pair of white sneakers.

You pursed your lips. At least you looked good.

But of course this was just like Carlos. Speaking, calling, texting... all when he wanted. You knew he was in Miami. You weren't an idiot. You had all of this season's races organised into your calendar.

You were just in disbelief that Carlos had the audacity to even text you after not hearing even a word from him in almost five months.

Your ears perked up to a low rumble of a car entering the area. The headlights were off but you could still spot it's familiar features. You eyed the iconic Prancing Horse and rolled your eyes. The love and hate you had for Ferrari was unexplainable.

The car stopped in front of you and the door of the driver's seat opened. Carlos came out as if he were in slow motion.

You sucked your tongue to your lips upon eyeing his appearance. He was in a black coat, a simple white shirt that stuck to his sculpted body paired with black trousers that brought out his stupidly defined thighs. Those thighs... god, how much time had you spent on them?

and i should tell you to leave 'cause i

know exactly where it leads, but i

watch us go 'round and 'round each time

Carlos waved a hand through his hair and smiled at you. You could feel his eyes waver over you, making you suppress the innate shudder his gaze would usually send you. You couldn't let him think that everything was okay.

He opened the door to the passenger side and gestured for you to come in with an extended hand.

You folded your arms and stared at him. Were you really going to do this? Yes. Was this what you deserved after so long? A man who felt dizzy for you but wouldn't speak to you for four months? Yes and no.... yes.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to look at you. He knew exactly what you were thinking. "Get in the car, Y/N. Before I make you."

There was nothing threatening about his tone. In fact, even if it was, it would be an empty threat. Because at the end of the day, the both of you knew you were going to.

You internally sighed, before walking up to the open door. You turned your head to him and gave an amused huff. "As if you would, Sainz."

Carlos flashed his classic grin, the very one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place, and watched you enter his car.

By the time you had but on your seatbelt and rested your arm on the door, Carlos had finally sat next you.

"You look good, cariño (darling)," Carlos murmured, bringing your hand up to his mouth to leave a small kiss.

You clenched your jaw at the fiery tingle that sprawled across your hand. You snatched your hand away. "I know. I look good all the time," You mentioned curtly.

Were you being a bitch? A bit catty? Simply put, yes. But you thought a man who usually got what he wanted deserved some sort of catty behaviour.

"Four months, Carlos, four goddamn months... of nothing," You sighed out.

A remorseful expression fell over Carlos' face. "I know. I'm so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses."

You huffed once again with an irked smile, folding your arms while you looked out your window. You could think of one. But maybe it wasn't time to bring it up right now. You were tired of this game already. You would rather a false peace than the raw reality.

Your eyes peered over to him. "Long drive home?" You asked.

Carlos smiled softly at you. "As per usual."

You nodded slowly and Carlos turned the key of the car. The engine came alive and seemingly so did he as his hand naturally fell to your thigh while he reversed out.

you got that james dean daydream look in your eye

and i got that red lip classic thing that you like

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

you got that long hair slicked back, white t-shirt

and i got that food girl faith and a tight little skirt

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

Carlos could feel your eyes on him as he drove down the empty, long roads of Miami, dotted with the sparsely spaced palm trees swaying in the warm summer breeze.

Your eyes trailed over every inch of him. His hair. His eyes. His lips. His neck. His body. Every crevice. As if you were trying to print an image in your mind.

You always looked at him like that. Carlos remembered asking you about it. "What are you looking at?" He would ask.

"Just you," You would retort, "I just can't believe someone like you exists."

Carlos would chuckle and question what you meant by that. You simply said he reminded you of James Dean. Even now. His hair was slightly grown and slicked back with the heat of Miami. His entire aura was smug and intoxicating. The entire world could see Carlos Sainz as the Spanish romantic driver, but you knew that behind that warming exterior, was something dirty... troublesome in the best way, in fact.

You, god, you were the complete opposite. Y/N L/N. The good girl model. Pure. Untainted. The type of model you would see in spreads of brands right after they had a controversy because your angel aura would put anyone back in the good books. No matter how revealing your clothes were or how much skin you had on display, you were somehow still the epitome of unadulterated goodness.

There was a saying that people often associated with good girls like you. Every good girl wants a bad boy to be good just for her.

You wished that wasn't true. How desperately had you avoided all those flashy teenage popstars and actors. But here you were inevitably falling for an intoxicating Carlos Sainz. Time and time again.

so it goes

he can't keep his wild eyes on the road

You let out a shaky sigh as Carlos' hand travelled closer and closer up your inner thigh. "Carlos," You warned, eyes widening slightly as those brown eyes were planted firmly on you, taking in every little movement of yours, instead of looking at the road.

"Yes, my ñina bonita (beautiful girl)," He answered almost questioningly in a teasing tone.

"Keep your eyes on the road," You weakly mumbled.

You both watched his fingers linger up your skirt. His fingers danced across your burning skin and paused at the thin material covering your core. You sucked in a sharp breath once those fingers met your panties.

Carlos grinned at your shaking eyes and the warm dampness on his fingers. "You make it hard to look away," He confessed earnestly.

You could feel his fingers rub your pussy ever so slowly, only just grazing over that sensitive nub of yours.

"Jesus fucking christ, Carlos," You hissed out, hips bucking at his touch.

Carlos could feel his pants become incredibly tight all of a sudden. The control he had over you was so enthralling that he wanted to simply stop in the middle of the highway, grab you by yours hips and fuck the living life out of you.

What a sight that would be. You straddling his lap, soaking his trousers as your ass rested against the Ferrari symbol embedded into the steering wheel. He would make sure that the brand he represented would be covered in your cum after he was done with you.

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath. "Jesus fucking christ, indeed, cariño," He managed to get out, blinking hard at the road in front of him.

He watched out of his peripheral vision as your head fell back against while his thick fingers pushed past your panties and slid against your drenched folds.

His fingers ventured and craved a journey, feeling each crevice of your pussy. Carlos thrusted his fingers into your warm walls, briefly watching you envelope him entirely.

"Fuck, Carlos," You moaned out, hand instinctively reaching out to covers his. You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop in this horny haze or push him in even further.

It must have been the latter as you could feel his fingers delve further into you. Carlos let out a strangled moan, foot pressing further on the accelerator. He needed to get you home as fast he could.

takes me home

the lights are off, he's taking off his coat

i say "i heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl"

he says, "what you heard is true

but i can't stop thinking 'bout you and i"

i said, "i've been there too a few times."

By the time you had reached home and got to your bedroom, the entire of your house remained living in the darkness you had found it in.

Carlos and you didn't need lights. If there was anything he was purely confident about, other than his driving of course, it was your body. He knew it like he knew those race tracks. Every curve. The distance from your breasts to your pussy. How long it would take you to cum. He knew it all.

Carlos shrugged off his coat somewhere onto your floor, needing a release from the heat surging through his body. Your shoes and socks he had pulled off in a haste as well.

His lips had found yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling him closer to you. His fingers snuck past the hem of your shirt, brushing your bare skin while reaching up your torso to find a neat surprise.

"No bra," Carlos' hoarse voiced queried with the sound of a smirk playing at his lips. At least thats what you could assume in the dark.

Carlos inched you towards your bed as if it was a second nature to him.

The soft silk sheets he had bought you last year consumed the both of you as his fingers brushed past your nipple.

You released yourself from this kiss at the action, gasping for the air that Carlos had taken from you.

"I heard you were with some other girl. Is this what you did with her?" You finally asked, feeling a small smirk grow onto your face despite the annoyance running through your body.

You could feel Carlos stop moving, probably boring those beautiful brown eyes of his into you.

He knew what you were talking about. February. Pre-testing season. The drivers, some staff and their partners had gotten together to celebrate the upcoming season.

Lando, like the photo lover he was, had decided to document the night with his camera and post it to his Instagram dedicated to photos, lando.jpg.

You had clicked on it a few hours later, deciding to see how much fun they were having while you were doing a photoshoot with Kim Jones. Pictures of Charles dancing terribly with Max had made you laugh. Carmen looking concerned for George's wellbeing as he took shots had made you laugh even harder. There was also a photo of Alex and Lily being the cute paddock couple they were while Carlos was drunkly looking into the camera

But then your fingers stopped on particular photo of Carlos.

He looked good, you could not deny him that. Flushed skin, hazed eyes, the perfect smile... all while dressed as the Madrid's richest.

But lo and behold, that wasn't the only thing getting your attention. Instead, it was the girl in his arms. The same girl who in the next few photos had her lips on him and his hands on her ass. You could even spot a fresh hickey that wasn't on her neck in the previous photo.

God, the comments and tweets were coming in at lightning speed.

user55: who's the girl? i thought carlos was with y/n?

user04: maybe they broke up?

user16: wasn't just with her for new years? jfc, that man needs to get a grip

mickyschumacher: y/n deserves better than this

user44: i wonder if she knows?

Quite soon after, Lando had taken down the post, apologising to you profusely. You reassured him it was okay, even though deep down you were exhausted of this.

Not only had Carlos been going around with another girl, but he didn't even have the decency to say sorry. He would rather say nothing.

Carlos didn't know what was worse. His growing guilt or the fact that your reaction was making him harder.

His fingers skimmed across your swollen lips. "Obviously what you saw was true. But the thing is... I can't stop thinking about you and I, princesa. You consume me for every second of the day. Even if I don't show it. Fuck, I have a ritual before every race, you know? To cum to your name... to your body."

Was is it a poor excuse? Yes. It didn't even explain why he had done it in the first place. But the most damning thing was, you didn't care. Or you could care less to begin with.

Instead you were turned on. The pool in your panties had gotten even bigger as you released a light moan at his words. Your hands travelled to his waist, peeling off his white shirt while he raised his arms. The combination of your body heat was so high that it could almost be considered unsafe for the average human.

"You're a lucky man, Sainz. I can't stop thinking about you too."

Carlos could only let out a moan at your words, removing your sweater before bringing his lips to your nipples, dividing his attention to them equally. His hands were busy unbuckling his belt and taking off his trousers.

Your hand reached into his long hair, gripping the locks tightly as he moaned against your breasts. You could hear the clink and thud of his belt and pants hitting the floor as he pushed up your skirt, unbothered to take it off.

In face, these mini skirts were going to be the death of Carlos. He loved them on you. It wasn't just the easy access to the heaven down there. But if he had to explain it, it was the way they rested on your thighs. Laying there simply, not doing anything but creating a monster in him.

Carlos pushed your panties to the side, plunging his fingers into you without any warning. He could feel you arch your back and push your head into the bed while you writhed under his touch.

"Fucking hell," You swore, clenching your thighs around his hands.

Carlos chuckled. "Such a dirty mouth, princesa," He stated before speeding up his pace.

Your loud moans echoed within your empty house. Your hips bucked into his hand, fucking yourself faster on him to chase the release he had built up in the pit of your stomach.

"You wanna cum, Y/N? Hmm? Tell me?"

The sweat was building up on your skin as Carlos had added his thumb over your clit. He rubbed his thumb briefly in slow circles but he had given up on the teasing. He wanted you to squirm in his hands because that's how much pleasure you were receiving. He flicked the nub in fast motions, dropping his warm spit into your hot folds.

"Holy–Carlos!"

Carlos smirked at the ironic combination of words following out of your mouth. Yes, he was holy. But if he was that divine, you were no angel. You were a sin. A goddess. A she-devil.

"I would love to watch you cum, princesa. I really would. But my cock is begging for you, hmm? I think your pussy deserves some attention that isn't my fingers, no?"

Carlos had stopped moving his hand and removed his fingers from you. He could feel you shake in his hold. From anger or pleasure, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had left you begging for more.

Although it must've been anger.

Because almost immediately, he had heard it before he felt it. The sharp whack of the air. The burn on his cheek almost sizzling.

You could feel his hot gaze pierce through you as your chest heaved up and down in frustration. "You're a little shit, Carlos," You groaned. "Sorry, no. What was it in Spanish? Polla? Yes, fucking polla."

The room had turned eerie in seconds. Carlos' silence had started to worry you. You could still feel his gaze and hear his laboured breathing but he was saying nothing.

Suddenly you felt his hands wrap around your waist and move to his lap. You let out a gasp at the bare cock you had been placed upon and the sloppy lips resting near your ear.

"I think I need to fuck the nice back into you, princesa, no? Maybe if you become my little divine goddess, I'll let you cum, hmm? What do you think?" Carlos' whisper was hot and heavy in your ear. "Use your words, mi amor (my love)".

Goddamn it. He had broken out the 'mi amor'. The only thing that had you hanging by a thread. The sliver of hope that whatever you and Carlos had going on was more than this. That you truly loved one another.

"Yes, Carlos," You said, bringing a gentle peck to his lips.

You could feel him smile against your lips. "There's my good girl.''

Carlos pushed your panties aside, assured that you were stretched out and wet enough by his fingers. He grabbed his cock and was overcome with a shudder when rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.

"Spit, cariño," His voice commanded.

You gathered all the saliva that had easily accumulated after salivating for this man and let the warm fluid fall from your lips.

Carlos couldn't see but he could just imagine if the lights were on. The bubbled liquid falling from those pretty lips of yours, turning into thin strings as they had perfectly landed on the slit of his cock.

He didn't even have to say anything as your nimble fingers rubbed your saliva over his shaft. You could hear his heavy breaths in the air and a small sigh of pleasure came from his lips. "Baby, let's get me in you, hmm?"

You let out a small whimper at his words before releasing a strangled moan as you pushed his cock into your pussy. You could feel each swollen and puffed out fold take him in and your warm walls wrapping around him tightly.

Carlos shut his eyes tightly. "Mierda (shit). You feel so good, princesa," He groaned, lifting his hips up.

You moaned in agreement, throwing your hands around his neck as he thrusted in and out of you.

The concept that cock could made a person dumb often sounded strange. But with Carlos, it was true. You couldn't do anything or say anything but moan in pleasure.

"Lamp. I need to see your face, princesa," Carlos muttered out in awkward pauses, rutting his hips against you in an angle that almost made it impossible for you stretch your arm out and turn on the lamp.

A yellow illuminated the room and finally, you could see each other.

You had made eye contact with Carlos. His eyes bore into you while his mouth was agape as if he was constantly ready to moan. His normally slicked hair was now tousled courtesy of your fingers.

Jesus, was he a sight to behold.

But Carlos didn't think any less of you. God, how were you even real? Your skin was flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, sweat and traces of your wetness across your body and your eyes: dazed with lust and bordering on the edge of being fucked out.

But most especially, those goddamn lips of yours. They were painted with red when Carlos had first picked you up. The red had faded, only trace amounts left mixed with the red flush of the swelling he had brought by kissing you. What a vision you were.

Your eyes flickered to the specifically red cheek that faced you. God, this man knew how to make you feel for anything. His hips jerked into you, pushing his cock deeper as every second passed. The spell he had on you was serious; dangerous.

You could feel a glaze of water fall over your eyes as your fingers brushed his reddened cheek. His skin was still warm from your slap. Carlos shivered at your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm sorry, Carlos," You murmured out so quietly that if he wasn't listening so intently, he would've missed it. "I didn't mean to."

Carlos could feel his heart pace as you softly kissed the burning skin of his. It was as if you were kissing his pain away. A warm tear from your eyes had fallen onto his cheek, making his heart melt.

Carlos could feel himself tighten at the action, even more so when you clenched your walls tightly around him.

"You think you deserve to cum, mi princesa?" Carlos queried, wrapping his hand around your jaw and making you turn to face him. His eyes shook at your teary eyed gaze. The mascara and eyeliner you wore had broken down. If he hadn't felt so soft for you, he would've teased you and said you looked like a racoon.

Carlos could feel you start to shake as you buried your nails into his skin. To his surprise, you shook your head no. You begun to slow your pace and clench around him, only trying to get him off.

"Oh mi amor, mi ñina bonita, you deserve to cum. You deserve a lot more than you know," Carlos whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. He planted a soft kiss to your forehead before bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing hard and increasing the speed of his cock thrusting in and out of you.

You couldn't help but let out a sob mixed with both pleasure and sadness. A wave of euphoria convulsed within your body as Carlos staggered to a halt in you. His cock twitched and throbbed, spilling his hot cum into your walls.

You bought Carlos into a tight hug, pushing yourself further onto his cock, making him groan again and release a few more ropes of his cum into you.

Carlos brought his lips to your shoulders and left a small trail of kisses as the two of you calmed down.

The double meaning to his words had thrown you off.

You could tell what he meant.

This why he had reached out in the first place.

His guilty glances. The poor excuses.

This was the last time.

Whatever this was between you... it had to end.

You both needed to move on.

But especially you.

It was a gutting feeling to know. But Carlos was right. This sadness, this anger, this toxicity could go on no longer. Despite being heartsick, you were happy though.

Because even if this ended, you had gone out in style.

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[munsons-hellfire]

Lost Part 1 | Cassian

SUMMARY: You were the princess of the Spring Court. But you no longer wanted to follow behind your brother. When Feyre decides to leave, she takes you and Lucien. But with the discovery of your mate and a war on its way you start to feel so lost.

PAIRINGS: Cassian x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, mfw, part 1, I might have missed something but I don't think this really has a lot of warning in this part. Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I ended up turning this into a few parts. There are a few points I want to touch and I don't think it would've been a good idea to do one whole part. If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know down in the comments. The sumary will most likely stay the same I'm not sure yet.

WORD COUNT: 2.0K

It felt like forever. The torture you faced under your bother’s ruleing. It wasn’t protection as he liked to call it. It was a prison, Tamlin had taken over after your father had been killed. You hadn’t been able to shed a tear when it happened, you always assumed that you weren’t meant to be in the Spring Court. When Feyre arrived as a human, you knew she was your chance for an escape.

So when she took the opportune moment to leave, you followed right behind her. Currently you didn’t understand how you had found yourself in this situation. You, Feyre, and Lucien had been on the run from the Spring Court. Little cuts littered your chest, arms, neck, and face. It was so cold, you didn’t know if you could hold on any longer. One of Lucien’s brothers was on top of you, holding you against the ice.

He lifts your head up and slams it down into the ice hard. Stars are dancing around your eyes, as you struggle to keep the blade from going into your throat. Your hand was on the blade, blood dripping onto your neck. A whimper escaped your lips as he stared down at you with a malevolent smile.

“You make such pretty sounds, I wonder what else I could get out of you.” He whispered, his tongue licking up the side of your chin all the way to your pointed ear.

You tried to push the male of you but it was no use. He was far stronger than you, and right now you were too weak. You couldn’t access your power considering you were drained. There were plants all around you even in the Winter Court but that was the last thing on your mind. It also didn’t help that you had never learned to fight. Tamlin had thought it was best you learn how to be a housemaid, how to be a mother, how to take care of your future husband.

Whatever the case may be you learned everything except how to fight and how to use your powers in a situation like this, it was biting you in the ass. Where Tamlin could shape-shift, you could manipulate the plants around you. But your brother didn’t know that, you knew better than to tell him your secret. Just before he could do further damage to you another male flew into him knocking him to the ice.

You turned to your side, a wince leaving your lips as you watched that same male throw a punch into his face. He continued to do so, he hadn’t been able to stop until someone had pulled him off Lucien’s brother. He wasn’t dead, you knew that he was knocked out cold. Your breath was shallow, as the male turned towards you red siphons glistening in the darkness of the night. He was leaning over you, hazel eyes searching you.

He gently picked you up, resting your head to his chest while he cradled the rest of your body. You stared up at him, when he looked back down at you, it snapped. Just before you closed your eyes you felt the gold thread tied around your heart. The mating bond had snapped, you were tied to the male that had just saved you. Now that you were safe you could close your eyes and that’s exactly what you did.

☾

Rhysand stood next to his brother as Madja worked on you. Cassian had his arms crossed over his chest, he was leaning against the door. The male was trying his hardest not to hover over Madja while she worked on his mate. But it was excruciating not to be next to you to hold your hand while she healed you.

“Are you positive?” Rhysand asked again, finally looking over at his brother. Feyre was at the end of the hallway, with Azriel as well. Lucien was also there but Cassian didn’t care much for him, his brother was responsible for the injuries to his mate. He wanted to kill him so they were standing guard in front of Lucien.

“Yes. The Princess of the Spring Court is my mate. I know she felt it too.” Cassian explained again, saying the same thing he’d consistently said when they had arrived back home. Cassian paused, staring briefly at his brother. “Do you really think she has powers?”

“Feyre believed it, and I know what I saw when we were under the mountain. Tamlin didn’t see it but Amarantha did. She protected herself in a cocoon of vines. Whatever she can do, she’s more powerful than she believes herself to be.”

Cassian had heard mentions of the story about how you’d protected yourself to avoid the affliction of pain at the wrath of Amarantha. She loved your older brother, but she hated you. So she’d made your torture just as cruel and wicked as Feyre had gone through. She even locked you up with Feyre, keeping you distanced from the only family you’d ever known. Tamlin. Lucien.

Rhys had told Cass that he had done everything in his power to keep you safe. But when that happened, everything changed. He knew eventually you’d be in his court. Tamlin would destroy you, and it looks like he’d already done just that. Finally Rhys looked back at Cassian again.

“We need to keep her safe.”

“She’s my mate, I won’t let her go back to that bastard of a brother. She’s safe here.” Cassian stated calmly. He caught Rhys looking down the hall to Feyre who gave a nod.

“Then you both need to accept the bond officially, Tamlin will demand her back. And if it isn’t accepted we have no choice but to hand her back over.”

“I’ll discuss it with her when she’s awake. Until then I can’t do much.”

Rhys gave a nod of his head as Madja walked up to them. “She is healed, though she might be out for a few days. Everything was drained, powers included. She needs time to rest.” Madja explained.

“Thank you.” Cassian said, stepping past the healer and walking into the room. He grabbed a chair and set it next to your bed. Then he reached for your hand, holding it in his. Cassian would wait days for you to wake up, as long as you came back to him.

☾

You held onto that thread when you thought you might die. Slowly you blinked open your eyes, a groan escaped your lips. You looked around the room noticing that you weren’t in the Spring Court. Then the memories of what had happened came flashing back into your mind. Panic started to rush through your body, however a hand gave you a comforting squeeze. You turned your head to see the male that had saved you holding onto it.

Just like you remembered he had red siphons on his body. Seven of them to be exact. His black hair was shoulder length, some of it was tied back in a small bun. He looked sexy with his hair that way. A smirk covered his lips, he must have seen what you were thinking was plastered on your face. His golden-brown skin made him look just as handsome. You could see some tattoos peaking through his shirt.

It was a gray shirt and was fitted perfectly to his upper body. You wondered what everything looked like underneath his clothes. Your mind started to drift, thinking of what he’d feel like against you, naked. His pulling of the chair brought you out of your thoughts, you decided to pull yourself up slightly so you could lean against the headboard. You felt the golden string that connected you to him. It was such a pain to not be closer to him. You needed him closer.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice was soft as you asked the question. He stared at you, the confusion was there only for a moment before it switched to understanding. You watched as the male stood from the chair, removed his boats and climbed into your bed. He leaned you forward gently, sitting behind you.

When he settled down into the bed, he pulled you towards his chest. You had noticed that somewhere in between him joining you on the bed he'd taken off his shirt so you could feel his warmth. You rested your head back on his chest, and closed your eyes feeling the bond shine brightly at the touch.

“I’m Cassian.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence.

“Y/N.” You paused, pulling his large hand into yours and entangling your fingers together. You didn’t understand how you’d gotten so lucky to be blessed with a mate provided by the Mother. “So you really are my mate?”

You questioned finally. Maybe this was all a dream, and you’d wake back up in the Spring Court. You didn’t want that though, you’d known you had finally gotten away from your brother's temper and you couldn’t go back to it. Things had gotten worse for you when you’d all returned from under the mountain.

“I am.” Cassian’s words were so comforting as he said them.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get a mate. I… Tam said I’d never experience this. That I’d be marrying off to someone who would never be my mate.” You felt your mate tighten his grip around your waist, his jealousy was evident but you didn’t mind it. Oddly enough it felt comforting, you’d been missing something like that for a long time.

Cassian clenched his jaw at the mere mention of what your brother had in store for you when the time was right. He nudged his nose into your hair. “I can assure you mate, that’ll never happen. I will not allow your brother to take you away from me.”

“But Tam, he’ll try to get me back. I am the princess of the Spring Court after all. He’ll try to call a meeting, to call for a battle against this court.” The worry was evident in your voice as you spoke the words that Rhys had mentioned a few days ago.

“If we accept the mating bond, your brother can not do anything about it. We can accept it then see a Priestess.”

You wanted to reject the idea of accepting the bond so quickly, but you knew that was a lie. Cassian was your mate, and you were his. This had to be done, and it had to happen now. A war loomed over your heads because of your brother. He’d chosen the wrong side and you wouldn’t stand by anymore. Not with what you could do.

“Let’s do it.” You spoke finally. “I need a day, and we need somewhere where it can be just the two of us. When we come back we’ll see a Priestess.”

“I have a place in mind for privacy.” Cassian said, a smirk on his lips. “I can give you a day as well. But after that you’re mine forever, princess.” You only gave a nod and closed your eyes leaning further into Cassian’s chest. It wasn’t until you were finally asleep, breathing evenly that Cassian called to Rhys in his mind.

“How is she?” It was the first question he had asked when the conversation started.

“She’s fine.” Cassian paused, he glanced down at his mate. “She wants to accept the bond.”

“Good. That’s excellent news brother. I think we could all use that right now.”

“We’re gonna head to the cabin for a few days, then we’ll see a Priestess when we come back.”

“Sounds like a plan. When you both come back we’ll discuss what to do in case Tamlin does try to do something. I want to help her learn her powers if she’ll let me.”

“I think she’d be more than willing to learn. I think it would be great to start training with her as well even if we don’t get far into it.”

“Good idea, brother. Both of you get some rest. I’ll let Feyre know she’s doing better.”

With those words Cassian felt his High Lord leave his mind. When Cassian looked back down at you he noticed that you were asleep. The fae lights in the room dimmed down allowing only the moonlight into the room. Cassian held onto you tightly as you slept on top of his form. This wasn’t the best of circumstances, how he found you. But he was so glad that he’d found you when you needed him most.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part three max verstappen x fem! driver! reader (fluff) “. . . this is what they call: puppy love.”

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yn.halimi

liked by landonorris maxverstappen1 and 21.6k others y.ln p4 on first our race, not where we wanted to be but we'll get there!! round one, check ✅ imola next, can't wait 👋

landonorris Y/NNN ⤷ yn.halimi LANDOO

username good luck

ferrarihypercar you did an amazing job out there! ⤷ yn.halimi forza ragazzi ❤️

username Wtf Porsche dominated like Red Bull in f1. A lot of work to do for Ferrari. But forza Ferrari

carlossainz55 Ojalá hubiera podido venir a mirar [wish i could have come and watched] ⤷ yn.halimi La próxima vez! Acabo de recibir noticias sobre tu p3, va a ser una gran temporada👍[next time. i just received news about your p3, it's going to be a great season] ⤷ carlossainz55 cuándo será la próxima vez? imola? [when will be the next time? imola?] ⤷ yn.halimi sí, Imola en abril. eso es hasta ahora [yea, imola in april] ⤷ landonorris soy lago ⤷ yn.halimi dora the explorer did not teach you well

username Consider Qatar 1812 a race about discovery, of finding out a lot about the car 🏎️🐎

maxverstappen1 thumbs up ⤷ landonorris soy lago ⤷ landonorris i think max is having a stroke? ⤷ yn.halimi soy lago? you trying to show off your spanish skills?😂

username I see the F1 ferrari energy slowly transferring to WEC

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thumbs up. you couldn't hold in the smile that curled on your lips as you re-read the comment. exiting your profile and going to dms, you didn't scroll far to reach the desired contact.

'saw you asked for me the other night' you typed, turning you phone off after so you could slip in your bed and shut your eyes for the night. it had been a long day for you and now that you were finally back in your hotel you couldn't wait for some proper rest.

but maybe you could stay up a little longer. Once your phone buzzed from on the nightstand you'd snatched it and unlocked it. 'we were playing fifa and i wanted to beat you' you couldn't feel the wide smile that stuck on your face. 'fifa you say? i might not have my console with me but i have some free time and my soccer shoes' you typed back quickly seeing he was still online and in the chat.

'what do you have in mind?' if your smile could have gotten any bigger, it would've. you sat up looking around your room. after a few seconds of thinking you looked back down at your phone. 'see you in jeddah?'

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The weather didn't bother you that much. you barely ever wear revealing clothes so wearing modest clothes didn't feel odd. you were too busy dribbling the football to be bothered by something irrelevant as clothes anyways, especially since max was chasing you and trying to steal the ball away.

Unlike the dutch who didn't waste any of his time going over to jeddah, you arrived during the evening, sometime after four. it was only at 5:30 did the two of you decide to actually go through with the plan of having a small football match together.

You were very surprised that the dutchman had accommodated for your time together at his hotel, somehow managing to book the tennis courts and take out the nets so you could makeshift a football field. It was a single goalie match, your shoes that you never got to wear making where the goal was.

"That's cheating." You huff-laughed, pushing him back with your shoulder. You must not have been in race mode because Max's reaction time skills were still on. in your moment of weakness he was able to steal the ball and take his shot to the bake shift goal. "Yea!" He cheered throwing his hands up, dabbing.

Crouched down on your knees, you tried to hold in a laugh at max. "That doesn't cpunt! You cheated!" You accused, getting back up on your feet. the time was sometime in early 6 and the sky had taken a nice gold and orange colour. "Contact!" Max fiend hurt as you you pushed your side into his sending him a couple of steps to regain his balance. "a 5-second time penalty for ms. L/N." "A fine for mr. verstappen." "A fine?" max put a hand on his chest making a shocked face. "Oh dear, go easy my bank account."

"Hmm" you put your hands on your hips, pretending to think. "I'm sorry mr. verstappen, but it's pretty big fine." "oh no. How much?" he played along, pretending to be worried and shocked.

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"It's bad they don't serve wine here, I'd be getting two gorgeous bottles of 1945 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti." You hummed, whispering about the wine once the waiter severed your table and left. "1945 what?" Max chuckled as took a sip of his drink ( which was actually just redbull in a fancy glass ) before picking up his fork to begin with the mini feast you ordered.

"Expensive french stuff." you shrugged, starting to eat from your own plate. "How expensive." He asked, chewing and looking at you. You gave another shrug, drinking your own drink (which was also just redbull in a fancy glass) to help swallow. "about 558k?" Max chocked on his food momentarily and you laughed at his reaction.

[darknight3904]

Memory and Devotion

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴢɪɴᴇꜱꜱ.

ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇᴅ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱ ᴀʟʟ.

The bruise on his neck aches as a nameless Avox blends skin-colored makeup into his neck to cover it up. Their touch is too forceful but it gets the job done and Coriolanus knows the importance of looking good for a camera.

He plays the part perfectly, he always does. He shakes hands and smiles politely at those in attendance. The soft click of a camera reaches his ears and Coriolanus hopes the Avox's work hasn't faded away.

The tang of the lemon drink being served burns at the back of his throat. It's your favorite, he remembers the many times he'd bring it to you at countless galas you had attended with him. Coriolanus found himself wishing that you were here, at his side sipping at your own lemon drink and laughing next to him.

No one is laughing tonight though. The mansion is filled with a strangling air of sadness as Coriolanus pretends to inspect the roses on the table.

Dinner passes slowly and Coriolanus fights to swallow the lump in his throat when dessert is served. The delicate cakes with powdered sugar on top are your favorites. The china plate underneath the sweet is staring at him in mockery with its light blue flowers and intricate gold trim.

His head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as he bids your parents goodnight. Your father thanks him, something about being a wonderful partner and friend to you and Coriolanus can't look him in the eye, instead, he focuses on your father's shiny black dress shoes. Your mother gives him a warm hug and she almost smells like you as Coriolanus keeps his face devoid of all emotion.

Time is a funny thing. Coriolanus figures this out on the night of his 30th birthday. The city lights of the Capitol shimmer as he stares at them when he realizes how long it's been since he's seen you. He wonders what you'd think of him now. Sometimes he swears he can hear you voicing your opinions through the empty halls of the mansion. Moments like that have left parts of the mansion frozen in time but the sunroom has the worst of it. Coriolanus never goes in there yet he has an army of maids tending to it daily, keeping it devoid of dust and disrepair. Everything is just as you left it, from your books with the dog-eared pages to the slightly askew desk chair and the squished pillow you liked to put behind your back for support.

Everything is just as you left it, ready for your return, just as he is now as he sits at his desk, mind replaying the last moments he shared with you.

His heart was pounding as you struggled against him. Both of you had been a wild blur of limbs and metal in the dark as he gained the upper hand in the fight you had started.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

His enraged voice filled up the room as he grabbed at your hand and ripped the chain away from his neck.

Your answer is swift and unyielding as something plunges into his side. He feels blood soak into his shirt and lets out laugh. What a clever girl you were, using the paring knife that had been at breakfast this morning.

Sure, you were clever sneaking up on him and then stabbing him. But, if you had actually been smart, you would've used a bigger knife. If only you had waited, steak was being served for dinner later, now that knife would've been perfect, with its longer blade and serrated edge.

Blood drips onto the floor as Coriolanus grabs at the chain, still attached to your ankle.

"We could've talked it out, you know. I'm a great listener."

Your time in this room has made you weak. He's able to easily staddle you and quickly use his weight against you.

The struggle you put up is admirable, futile, but admirable. The chain reminds him of a snake constricting its prey before its meal as your arms flail beneath him. Soft gasps of a dying girl reach his ears but his brain feels fuzzy as he wraps the chain around tighter.

He'd hold it for a few seconds and then let it go. That would teach you your lesson. Hopefully you'd never be brave enough to fight against him like this again. Then, he'd take you upstairs and show you the maroon curtains he picked out. Perhaps you'd like them even more than the blue ones. He wanted to have strawberries tonight, big ones, just like the one you offered him the day he first laid eyes on you.

"Coryo!"

Your voice, barely a whisper is fluttering in his ears.

"Coryo!"

There you are, saying it again. It sends a warm tingle down his spine.

He feels a smile stretch across his face.

"Coriolanus!"

His eyes flutter open and he feels the slight bit dizzy as he forces his eyes to focus. For a moment he swears its you, back from the dead, rousing him from his sleep.

"Sorry, you seemed like you were having a nightmare." Livia says, backing up from him when he sits up, neck stiff from falling asleep at his desk.

"Its fine." He replies "Its late. What're you still doing up?"

"You try sleeping with someone kicking at your bladder every five minutes." She laughs

Coriolanus' eyes follow her hand and he watches her hand gently rub over her swollen stomach. A glamorous yet tasteful ring glints on her left hand in the low light of his desk lamp.

"Right, I forgot about that." He says

Livia lets out a slight hum and he looks away, mind racing with thoughts of you.

"Are you alright, Coriolanus? You seem upset." She asks

What a doting wife he has ended up with. How thoughtful she is, asking if he is alright.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about the past."

53 years later

"Tonight's preparations for the conclusion of the Victory Tour have been finished, sir."

"Good. How far away is the train?" He asked

"About 4 hours sir. When the Victors arrive, their stylists will need about an hour to get them ready. Their escort contacted the Capitol about twenty minutes ago." The maid replies

He nods, ready to dismiss the maid and go back to his work. But, the way the sunlight streams through the curtains stops him. Maroon, a favored color of his looks back at him.

"Tell everyone who is finished with their jobs to go down to the basement. There's a separate bedroom down there with boxes of blue curtains. I want them washed and hung before the party begins." He orders

"Yes, sir."

He isn't sure of the reasons behind his actions. Hanging up those old blue curtains. Perhaps old age is making him sentimental. Sentimental for what, he wasn't entirely sure anymore.

Hours later, the mansion is still a buzz as workers rush around trying to fulfill his command of washing hundreds of curtains. They remind him of little worker ants scurrying around, keeping the nest clean.

His shoes click slightly as he wanders through his home, taking in the decor, making sure it is all as he desires. His wandering leads him through the maze of hallways, and before he knows it he's standing in front of the sunroom.

Coriolanus knows he ordered that the sunroom remain untouched, expect for its daily cleanings and basic upkeep of fresh paint every few years, nothing should disturb the room.

Everyone in the mansion knows that this room is off limits no matter what occasion it is.

So why was he staring at the room, its doors thrown open with three workers, inside moving furniture around, discussing about who was going to clean up the large stack of books that had fallen of the desk.

Your desk.

Your books.

Your room.

You.

He knows his rage frightens the workers but he can't bring himself to care as they scurry out, heads bent low, apologies on their lips. His mind races with ways to do away with them, Perhaps a swift poison, or maybe they'd become Avoxes. He'd decide on a punishment once his mind was clearer.

He feels his bones ache as his brain reminds him just how much he misses you. It had been years since he properly thought about you and your demise. You had been dead to him for so long, but now your name felt like a curse on his lips.

Unsteady feet carried him into the sunroom, He hadn't been in this room since your wake.

His eyes take in the room he had regarded as sacred for so many years.

Ruined. It was ruined.

So many years of memory and devotion, ripped from him by three incompetent workers he had brought into his home.

Your books and desk had been shoved into a corner. Some your favorite reads were scattered on the floor. His hands shake and his back aches as he reaches to scoop them back up, wishing he remembered exactly what order you had kept them in.

He fixes the room by himself, ignoring the offering of help from different maids, dismissing them rudely. It takes time but he has everything back in its place. Or at least he thinks its back in place. He can't remember exactly how everything was and he wishes he could.

He sits at your desk, inspecting the little doodles you had drawn on a few pieces of paper. A flower on one, a heart on the next. Your name written in exaggerated cursive. One paper at the bottom of the stack remains unfinished though. His name, written in the same cursive.

'Cory'

The beginnings of the 'o' are there but its as though you were called away from your work. Perhaps you would've finished this if he hadn't strangled you down in that basement room.

He traces his finger over the page that had yellowed over the many years it had been apart from you.

Tears threatened to spill from his blue eyes as he looked at your name on the paper. His hand ran over his face, it was so wrinkled and old. Perhaps it was good you were gone. Would you have even liked him if you knew what an ugly old man he had become?

Perhaps it was better that you were frozen in the past. At least you never had to witness what he had become to sit on the throne he had now.

The soft click of the door to your room opening interrupted his train of thought.

"Sir, the Victors have arrived with their escort and mentor."

Coriolanus decides you would've loved this party. From the decorations to your favorite drink being served to everyone. Most of all though, he knows you would've loved getting dressed up for it. You had always looked so breathtaking in your gowns.

Cheers and claps filled his ears as he waved at the crowds of Capitol citizens that had arrived at his home while he was picking up the pieces that remained of you.

His eyes scan the crowd and bright colors look back. Over the top makeup and wigs glitter in the night as he looks through the crowd.

Finally though, he sees her. The girl who whose fighting spirit reminds him of you and how hard you tried to get away from his grasp that day in your room. He smiles at her and she stares back, eyes as hard as steel as he takes a sip of his drink.

Katniss Everdeen is watching as he finally makes his decision about this years Quarter Quell. She won't go on to haunt him the way Lucy Gray does. The way you do. The Girl on Fire will be snuffed out, he'll see to it himself.

Bonus Part to this series

Series Masterlist

Thank you for reading this series. This is the final part of It Burns For You. If you'd like to read more of my work, check out my masterlist or follow for more. I do plan to write more for Coriolanus.

Taglist:

@xxfanfictionxx @m-ichelles-world @horcruxmanor @crispymentalitytaco @nowitsmissing @rybunnie @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @jackquinnswife @nadisk @ms-longbeach @wearemadeofstardust0 @yourmomsbjtch

@livvieboo719 @bxtchopolis @angrytriumphtree @zizouu23 @hanversace @hanversace @511isa @tatertooted @manoknapula123 @teamostevengrant @daddiejaehyun @daisiesfor-mylove @lovelypaigey @readingthingsonhere

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@stelleduarte

@snowtargaryen

@imnotafishimamermaid

@marecaltrashhh

@livingdead-reilly

[broshot]

men who act and seem strong but once you reach the bedroom with them the roles are reversed >>>

nsfw under the cut

♡♡♡

"please," a soft whimper leaves his mouth.

"please what?" you tease.

"please touch me more."

you slide your hands along his inner thighs. he raises his hips, trying to make you touch him where he needs it the most.

"you need to be patient," you whisper as you slowly unbutton his shirt.

"but I need you so bad," he whines.

"I know you do, but patience is the key, yeah?"

he whines again, obviously getting more and more impatient as seconds pass. you're now messing with his belt, probably undoing it way too slow on purpose.

he closes his eyes and tries to ignore the painfully aching bulge in his pants. you brush your palm against it a few times as you slide his belt off, making him squirm.

you're being too slow, he thinks. he kicks his pants off as you undress yourself and starts palming his bulge through his underwear. he's able to relieve some of the frustration from earlier but he needs you to be the one touching him.

"please," he whimpers, "please touch me."

"you know I can't say no to you when you're like this." you say and finally do what he's been aching for this whole time.

you remove his underwear and let his bulge out. it slaps his stomach, making him even more embarrassed.

"how do you think everyone would react if they knew how you act behind closed doors?" you tease.

he bucks his hips upwards again. "please, I'll be a good boy.. I need you to touch me," he whines.

you slowly wrap your fingers around his erection, earning a breathy moan from him. his dick twitches slightly at your touch.

"fuck," he breathes out. his abs tighten and release as he tries to hold his orgasm in.

"I've barely touched you and you're already on the verge of cumming?" you say teasingly.

"what can I say? you're just.. too good," he says.

you start palming him slowly, earning many breathy whimpers and moans from him.

"please, let me cum," he whines. "I'll hold the next one in, I promise, just let me cum, please."

"go on, honey. I couldn't say no to that," you breathe out. who could deny a man like him in such a state?

"thank you, thank you, I'm coming," he moans. he raises his hands to hold the headboard above him as he cums, just because he needs to hold something. and boy, he cums a lot.

the sight in front of you sure is worth it; his stomach and chest is covered in his own cum and he's breathing heavily. his hair is messy and the look on his face is pure gold. he's looking at you with a look that says "you're everything, my everything".

"you're going to be the end of me," he breathes out with a soft chuckle. "god... how do you always manage to get me so messed up? who would've thought.. a man like me," he mumbles.

"a man like you, huh?" you tease. "well, hold on tight, because we aren't done," you say.

he smiles and pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. "I'm all ready for you, always," he says and leans in to leave a trail of wet kisses along your neck.

"this will be a long night.."

gojo satoru, nanami, geto, choso, toji, atsumu, sakusa, oikawa, ushijima, kageyama, and your fav♡ (let me know if you have a character in mind who would fit this)

a/n: this is cringe ngl. i love subby men.

I took a break, sorry for not posting for a while :(

[madkiska]

watching the entirety of jrwi: riptide again. here's some important things from the first few episodes that I feel we forgot (<110 mentions too though)

Jay

Had night terrors similar to those of Kubakinta's curse in episode 5, and they eventually start returning even after Loffinlot's curse is lifted ○ All of them were about her family and/or the navy ○ I simply think people leave her out of the nightmare stuff and she deserves it. Hurt her more, please (he said, lovingly)

was actually very upset at having to use her medal to get a Loffinlot rebellion to shut up ○ This could be because she didn't want them to guess she was a spy, but I choose to believe it's because she felt guilty

"If you're gonna be sailing with someone, you should have a good relationship with them. [nervous chuckle]." She says, while asking him for information about the Black Rose Pirates (ep. 10)

Said "thank god they didn't find me" after a nightmare about the navy attacking. Even when she was supposedly a spy, who one day would have to return to the navy ○ Very unclear if she was scared of her dad, or if it's because she was a secret spy so the navy would've just killed her

Rewatching, she was suspiciously into the plundering and gold and stuff. Like that was real sus. It doesn't fit her current character much

The only one among them who's gambled before

Chip

The entire thing literally starts off with Bizly holding a lit match

Called Gillion "Gill" and Jay "Sureshot" from an early stage

Was SO much more of a bastard. Lied to Gill constantly, didn't care about anything but the money, etc.

Had aggressive hand tremors alongside Jay's night terrors ○ Gill cures it with lay on hands

When he gets drunk married, they talk extensively about how he'd be released when he's dead. Welp.

They did actually break up and it was fine and they were still friends. They parted on good terms

Is really fucking good at chess ○ Beat Earl twice and Jay once. Jay had a point of exhaustion after a nightmare but Earl had no excuse ○ Lost to Gillion though, but only cause of prophetic screwup ○ This kid is smarter than he lets on, y'all

Was the first one to have a backstory dump while Jay is asking him about the Black Rose Pirates, yet still we know jack shit about his life before them other than "orphan"

Gill

Charlie has referred to Gillion with 'they' many times. I can pull receipts.

When describing Gill, Charlie said: "He's more.. elven, if you had to make a comparison. 'Cause I don't wanna be a fish guy". Oh, honey.

Smote a bald person by using his hair as a whip (ep. 4)

Was given anxiety and self-doubt alongside jay's night terrors and chip's tremors ○ "What do you want?" "I want the feeling of satisfaction I've been chasing my whole life." ○ This was episode FIVE.

First mention of the prophecy and how Gillion wasn't their ideal student is ep. 7, after he divine smites + prophetic screwups and deals like 60 damage to some beetles ○ Chip spends the next 30 seconds in gay awe

He refers to the crescent moon Niklaus tattoo as "my zodiac" (probably a bit) ○ It's not a lil basic white girl moon this thing is the entire size of his forearm

Gill had never heard about the Black Sea - it's unclear if the Undersea just don't know, or if that's just how sheltered he was (ep. 10)

Biz: "What would Gillion do. If he just had no goal - was just sitting there." "Gillion always has a goal." "Would his goal ever be to just.. Sit there?" "Absolutely not." ○ Later, Chip expresses that he doesn't know what Gillion likes. What he would want out of winning a bet. Gillion doesn't have an answer

Other

Apple, in a couple of early battles, acted like Gill's familiar (see: ep. 7)

They also pecked at his Niklaus tramp stamp and looked all confused at the idea of eating seeds

The specific crescent of the moon in the Niklaus tattoo is known as a symbol of "corruption" (ep. 9) and its antonym is the sun, for "life", similar to the yin and yang ○ Interesting to consider after what the tree said in 110 <_<

Pretzel has a masters degree in couple's therapy (ep. 10)

The Albatross/Millennium Chipper was described as the colour of rosewood or mahogany

Captain Lizzie's first introduction was a wanted poster, and Chip wanted to turn her in for the prize, then decided to try learn from her instead

Chip/Bizly called Old Man Earl "Erol" for a loooong time ○ Maybe it's an accent thing but I have an uncle called Erol and so this stands out to me

[youresodarkbabe]

i'm listening, ready to learn (prof!a. turner x reader)

smut.

warnings: prof!al x reader (yes this is influenced by the recents), age gap, piv, dom-ish al, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 2.6k

took me a while but im back!! hi :)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"it's definitely not the worst i've seen."

those four words were like a knife to the heart. you put everything you had into those pictures, worked on them for weeks, refining, editing, reshoots, and that still didn't please him. you gave him everything you had to offer, and it still wasn't enough. you could cry on the spot, but his voice pulled you out of your mind's abyss.

"do you want a second chance? i mean, i think you could do much better than this, not to be too harsh."

you had to stop yourself from showing your sheer happiness, you couldn't believe this. you try your hardest to compose yourself before speaking.

"yes, please," you mutter quietly, your voice coming out almost like a squeak. he found it endearing.

he sets your portfolio on his desk and stands up, sliding it over to you with a smile before taking a sip of his coffee.

"tell me if this crosses a line, but would you like to do the shoots at my studio? i have everything you need and more there, i think it'd be very useful."

reality hits you hard. you and your professor at his studio, all alone. if you weren't already trying to conceal your emotions, you were definitely doing it now. ignoring the heat pooling between your legs, you nod, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid of what would come out of your mouth.

"alright," alex grabs a pen from his shirt pocket and jots down his phone number and studio's address on a post it note and sticks it on the top of your portfolio, "how's this friday? is 7 good for you?"

you nod again, eyes fixed on his. "'s perfect, sir."

the sun was shining perfectly, his eyes illuminating like gold. he was so, so beautiful and it took everything you had to break that eye contact and walk out of the class.

come friday, and you're already panicking. you can't find any of the things you need, your reference pictures are shit in hindsight and your roommate had accidentally broken the lens you needed for your camera. regardless, you show up to the studio twenty minutes too early with all you could carry, hoping he wouldn't hate you for your lack of equipment.

he opens the door in a red shirt, a few buttons undone. you couldn't help but picture what he'd look like with the shirt off.

"you're early, doll," he lets you into the studio and shows you where to keep your stuff. "i would've rushed a bit more when cleaning if i knew you'd be so early."

your cheeks heat up as you take in his words.

"i can always come back later?" you say, almost immediately packing your stuff back up, only for alex to stop you with a hand holding your wrist firmly in place.

"it's fine, promise. just a tad unexpected."

he gives you that classic smile and all the worry in your heart seems to melt away. he asks if you'd like some space to set up, and as much as you want to spend time with him, you know it'd be best if you focused, so you say yes. alex darts off to the other side of the room where you see him fiddling with the portfolio from your previous meeting. you tear away your focus from him and set up your camera and all you'd need for the shoot.

he shuts it abruptly, the sound making you jump, his voice instantly soothing your mind.

"did you bring any references?"

shit, you think to yourself. you hated the references you originally had, you left them at home. you had absolutely nothing.

alex tuts, setting the portfolio back down and walking to you, tapping your chin so you'd look up at him, which you do.

"i can see you gettin' in your head. you don't have to worry, we can figure this out, okay?"

"okay."

you and alex stand there for a moment, faces so close, almost close enough for you to close the gap— to kiss him, but you choose against it. alex again seems to be the one to snap out of the haze first, taking a few steps away, clearing his throat. "i, uh, have some pictures you could use as a reference."

right. the photoshoot. that's why you're here.

"you wanna go get 'em for me?" alex asks as he sits down on the chair in front of your camera. you say yes, waiting on him to tell you where to go.

"just that shelf there, the gray one."

you hold the hefty photo album in your hand and hand it to him, standing behind him, leaning in to look at the pictures.

calling them gorgeous would be an understatement. you had been passionate for photography for as long as you could remember and you had never seen pictures that had captured the human essence that beautifully.

alex points at a specific picture and looks up at you, beaming.

the photograph looked simple enough, but there was something to it, something that made it transcend normalcy, the model looked ethereal. it was in black and white, and the standout feature was the bright red lipstick mark on the model's neck, you could immediately picture alex like that, he'd look so perfect.

you try ignoring how wet just the thought of him like that makes you and as if on cue, he says your name, you look away from the picture and back at him.

"i can see the ideas in your eyes, i think we'd best get started, hm?"

you let out a shaky breath and are about to go to your camera, before you pause and turn to him.

"am i.. do i have to take the pictures of you?"

and for the first time, you see a blush grace your professor's perfect face.

"that was the plan, yeah. we can always find a different picture to replicate if you want, it's fine, i don't mind—"

"no! i mean, it's fine. i'm alright with taking the pictures of you, sir."

alex runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips, "alright, okay,". he smiles at you again, making your heart melt and you feel yourself getting soaked. "think i should change this shirt, though. what do you think, sweetheart?"

based on the look on his face, you can tell he didn't mean to let the nickname slip. you'd be lying if you said you didn't love the way how naturally it rolled off his tongue, though. his accent made the word go straight to your core.

"you can change if you'd like."

he mumbles a quiet 'yeah', and goes off into the corner of the room, unbuttoning his shirt as he walks, unaware of how your eyes are fixed onto him. he slips the shirt off and turns to you, holding two shirts in either of his hands.

"black or white?"

you eye him up and down, replying despite being completely distracted.

"white."

he puts the shirt on as he walks back to the seat, you avoid eye contact because who knows what he'd say if you kept staring.

he sits down and you look back down at the reference picture, one question filling your mind.

"sir?"

he hums in response, fixing the camera slightly.

"the lipstick mark. do i have to—"

"if you want. it's not needed, you don't have to."

the second you hear alex say you can kiss him, you grab your red lipstick and apply it, not noticing how enamored alex is. he watches on as you swipe the lipstick along your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to feel them against his, but at the same time, terrified that you don't see him the same way.

you stand in between alex's legs, one of his hands on your waist as you lean in and press your lips to the side of his neck, under his jaw. you hear his breath hitch as you pull away, the grip on your waist getting firmer.

"it doesn't look good, can i redo it?" you ask, just so you could kiss him again. alex nods and hands you his old shirt to wipe the lipstick off with. you kiss his neck again, this time with your lips parted, your teeth lightly grazing his pulse point.

alex's eyes fall shut and his mouth hangs open, a quiet groan gracing your ears. with his eyes still shut, he moves his other hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "that one good enough for you?", he asks, his hands moving to your back, wrapping around you.

"no, i think i need to kiss you again." you mutter, dipping your head even closer to his. alex doesn't hold back, this time. he leans in and kisses you, standing up and pulling away to kiss your cheek, laughing at the slight red tint he leaves.

"'m i right in assumin' my lips are red too, now?"

you nod as you tangle your hands in his hair, kissing him again, deeply, tongue and teeth clashing with no regard for anything but each other.

alex's hands slip down to your thighs, tapping on them and instinctively you jump into his grasp, letting him carry you with his hands planted firmly under your ass. he pulls away again, dipping his head to your neck, sucking, biting, licking— anything that makes you feel good. you feel how hard he is through your jeans, and you grind against him, making him moan along your collarbone.

"d'you wanna go to my room, baby?", he asks in between kisses. your mind is too overwhelmed with him to respond, so you just tug on his hair, hoping he'd take the message, which he does.

you can barely focus on where he's taking you, working on unbuttoning his shirt, not realising what alex takes with him into his room.

he lays you down on his bed, it dipping when he settles on his knees by your side, letting you unbutton his shirt. he shrugs it off, smiling at how you look at him, completely obsessed with you. he slides his hands under your shirt, waiting for you to let him know it was okay to take it off, which you do with a moan. you're grinding against his thigh now, letting him take your shirt off. while he's there, he also takes your bra off, swearing under his breath at the sight of your tits. he cups them, twisting your nipples between his fingers, watching as they harden, taking one into his mouth.

he sucks on it before pulling off with a pop, kissing all over your chest until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. he undoes the button and pulls them off slowly, along with your soaking wet panties, both joining the growing pile of clothes on his floor.

alex runs a finger through your folds and pops it into his mouth, humming as he tastes you.

your hips roll into his as you whine, "sir, i need you, please," you begged, and alex simply couldn't say no to you.

alex strips down fully in front of you, and just the sight of his cock makes you squirm. he was bigger than you'd imagined him being. trying to convince yourself that you could take him, you watch as he slides back in between your legs and places his arms on either side of your head. you can't help yourself from reaching out for his cock, stroking it and playing with the tip. his arms almost give in as he groans straight into your ear.

he moves one of his hands to pry yours away from his cock, "if you pull somethin' like that again, i'll make sure to leave you here, just like this. got it?"

the harshness in his voice makes you clench around nothing, you nod rapidly, biting your lip to keep quiet.

"good girl," alex mutters as he aligns himself with your aching hole, pushing in as slowly as possible, both of you moaning as he bottoms out. his hand goes to your clit, rubbing it in figure eights as slowly as possible as he pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in.

your hands go to his back, nails digging into his skin as he thrusts. he had a plan— he was going to take it slow, be as gentle as possible— but it all went to shit the second he saw the way your tits moved with every thrust.

he speeds up, going faster with every thrust, eyes flitting between your face and your tits. his fingers work your clit like magic and your back arches into him, tits pressing against his chest as he hits the perfect spot. you moan his name loudly, biting into his shoulder to muffle your noise. he strokes your hair softly, slowing down just a bit to kiss your cheek.

"feel good, princess?" he asks, his voice sweeter than sugar.

"so, so, so good, fuck—" you feel yourself getting closer and closer and alex can feel it too. you clench around him before you see white, the pleasure of it all taking over as you cum hard. alex fucks you through it, getting closer and closer to his peak.

just as he's about to cum, he pulls out, slightly too late. his cum spurts all over your thighs, stomach and cunt, but you're too fucked out to care.

"that was so good, love, you did so, so well for me."

he kisses your collarbone again, moving lower and lower, eventually settling with his face in between your thighs. he pushes the cum off of your stomach and thighs and into your cunt with his fingers, twisting them inside you. surprised, you tug on his hair, pulling him to look at you.

"i got you, good girl, don't worry, okay?"

you nod as alex pulls his fingers out and slides them into your mouth, making you suck them clean— which you do.

he kisses your inner thigh before finally licking a stripe up your worn pussy, making direct eye contact as he does so. his lips attach to your clit, teeth grazing against it as he flicks it with his tongue, eventually moving his thumb to do that job for him. he slides his tongue into you, tasting you as best as he can, moaning into your cunt. the vibrations drive you crazy, hips bucking into his mouth as he licks into you relentlessly.

his nose nudges your clit as you feel your peak getting closer once more, legs wrapping around his head as you cum again, letting him clean you up with his gentle kitten licks. alex looks up at you through his messy hair, laughing as you pry him away from your overstimulated cunt. he eventually gives in, moving away and kissing his way back up to your face.

the two of you sit there in silence for a while, the only sounds you hear is alex's quiet breathing as you run your hands through his hair.

"'m sorry," he mumbles against your lips. "you're my student, this isn't right, i shouldn't have—"

you press your lips against his once more, softer this time, less starved, less desperate. you kiss him as if you can see more of these kisses coming your way in the future.

"i can see you getting in your head, alex." he chuckles at the callback to what he had told you earlier, hiding his head in the crook of your neck. "i want this to work. i think if we tried, and if we're careful, it will."

alex takes a deep breath in, sitting up next to you, gently stroking your stomach as he presses another kiss to your neck.

"it better work, doll."

you feel yourself starting to drift asleep, only waking up to the feeling of alex's body leaving yours.

"what are you doing?" you ask quietly, voice too hoarse speak normally.

alex grabs what he took with him earlier, that object you couldn't quite make out, and waves it in front of your eyes. that fucking camera.

"just stay still, love," he says as he snaps a few pictures of you, smiling at the stills.

"so.. are those getting me my A?"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

anyways.. sextape fic soon!!

[sordidmusings]

Fixing What Ifs (Mihawk x F!Reader)

A/N: For this ancient request (told you they are not forgotten just severely neglected 💀). I really hope I captured the type of scene you were looking for! Debating on writing a follow up smut because sex as the culmination of pining?? That's that good good right there that is. Bless up to @fanaticsnail for cheering me while writing this, would've very much struggled without you love bug 🤍🤍🤍

Listening to: Prove Your Love - Fleetwood Mac, Go Slowly - Radiohead, Love Song - Lesley Duncan

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Fem!reader, a gratuitous amount of mutual pining, kind of bantering?, Mihawk leans opla in that he has such sass, a few flashback scenes, Mihawk is a Man who does not know how to deal with being in love, but he’s trying like a lot, I mean he even kisses your wrist, probably idiots in love, there's one brief allusion to Buggy cuz I Need Him

Snippet:

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“I’ve chosen another I want you to try. Push your glass this way,” Mihawk prompted gently. Years of knowing him let you pick up the hints of eagerness hidden under his usual drawl.

You watched Mihawk’s hands and forearms work as he opened another bottle to share. He had foregone his coat tonight, instead draping himself with a well-cut white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and buttons undone to below his sternum, of course. Toned muscle danced under his skin with every twist and turn, leading you to great distraction throughout the process of him serving you. After enjoying the sculpt of his large hand while it gripped the full bottle to pour your glass, you changed your attention to the luxurious material of his shirt, fluttering over his chest and playing against tanned skin and his heavy gold cross. You wished you could find an excuse to pull at that hem, testing the softness of the material and making it reveal more for you.

The dark green bottle thumping back down on the bartop brought your attention away from your companion and back to your refreshed drink. You did feel a bit guilty that Mihawk’s description of the new wine was going near completely ignored (you at least caught the words “barrel-aged”, flattered he remembered your offhand comment about that preference from months ago). You just couldn’t get yourself to pay attention; your mind was swimming through multiple years at once any time it wasn’t grounded by his visage. Wistfulness had a stranglehold on you tonight, keeping you locked between painful yearning and bittersweet nostalgia. The comfort of hearing his smooth voice accompanied by the quietly unfolding lives of every stranger in the bar did reach you, however. You took solace in that while you went for your first sip.

“You’re much quieter than usual,” Mihawk prodded with dry displeasure. That displeasure was interrupted when he got to enjoy your usual show of flicking your tongue out to lick your glass and then your lips upon the first taste.

You took another, much longer sip of your drink to delay the need to respond. It was an easy choice of diversion; the wine was exquisite as always. You’d tell him as much if you were more in the mood for the gloating, simpering glow he’d get from earning a stroke to his ego from you.

“I thought you’d like that,” you offered quietly. You swept a fingertip around the slick rim of your glass, mindless in your feeling and seeing and doing. This absent state let Mihawk watch for every detail of the action to better imagine how that trailing fingertip would feel against his skin. 

“Clearly you’re not as observant as you think,” he dug back, this time with much more amusement warming his voice, yet not quite enough to completely melt the snideness out.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Years of rivalry softened you to affection. Over those years of pushing yourselves and each other, bitterness became respect, respect became comradery, and comradery became admiration. In you, that admiration had long bloomed into devotion, petals bursting open in a stalwart stand against his consistent frigid air. Some days they withered, but then he would reach to you, hearten you, or defend you in a way that would have new buds growing more and more numerous until you had a field that could withstand winter's chill, turning to ice sculptures in each frost instead of decaying pulp.

“I blame your wines,” you chuckled, still taking yet another sip despite the accusation. “They have me stuck reminiscing.”

“I’d advise against that; it’s a trying endeavor. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Mihawk teased, doing a great job of masking his fondness with wry wit. He did venture to expose his curiosity, however. “Where and when does your mind have you trapped?”

“Our first meeting.”

Mihawk barely managed to keep from choking on his wine. He didn’t want to tip you off on how much that memory affected him. And it would be a shame to waste such an expensive drink.

“Why would you be thinking of that ridiculous affair?” There goes the effort at keeping you in the dark.

“What?” you asked with mock shock. “The only thing that was ridiculous was how little you trusted the top marksman to do her job.”

“You didn’t exactly scream competency,” Mihawk defended, hiding his fluster behind rudeness and the rim of his glass. The dim lighting of the bar would have hid it for him anyway; the few torch chandeliers did wonders for turning him to a living Baroque painting, but they were known for their shadows more than their breadth of hues. 

“That is one thing you always did have on me,” you relented easily, more set on imagining the immaculately groomed and glaring warlord who first saw you than needing to keep a score with his modern counterpart at your side.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“They asked for me for a reason, you’re more useful elsewhere.”

“I’m useful everywhere you’ll find,” he dismissed easily, as sure of that fact as in the rising of the sun each day. You were a hard one to shake, but the way his namesake hawk’s eyes cut through you had you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It had you needing to make him just as small as the little pieces his endlessly picking gaze had shredded you into. 

“Then go be useful as something other than my shadow. Some of us are actually working.” Even in your exasperation fueled anger, you sounded more like you were asking than telling. The ease with which he commanded was yet another skill you’d spotted on him so quickly in these few days together that had you feeling out of your league. You were beginning to think he took great joy in your mounting discomfort with the way he hovered around, always looking for another soft spot to peck at.

“You’ve been laying at this spot for days, Viper, with nothing to show for it,” Mihawk said, phrasing the truth quite unfairly. Viper was the code-name gifted to you in your work; the snakes could sit still as the dead for weeks, waiting for the one moment that prey finally crossed their path. That same dedication was what he was attempting to disturb now. “I could have rooted the rats out within the hour of mission's start.”

“Then it’s a good thing this task is mine and not yours,” you spat back, finally finding the will to sound truly mean. There was much you were uncertain of but your methods were a strong sense of pride and no one got to question them. “I’m sure the trafficking victims would do really well avoiding harm in the slaughter you’d start. They are known for being battle-ready after all; I’m sure they’re just playing victim right now so they can partake in a song-worthy escape and claim their glory.”

“You think I have no skill to guard and fight at the same time?”

“I think it’s not worth the risk to innocents just to feed one man’s insatiable ego,” you grumbled, spreading yourself out on your familiar and beloved blanket to begin this day’s long watch. You lined one eye with the one-of-a-kind scope of your rifle, taking comfort in settling into your power. “Better to wait until they show themselves and pick them off from miles away, letting them panic at the suddenness of death from a foe they’ll never see.”

Your memory never granted you Mihawk’s perspective on your first job together. You never figured out that he was hovering not from hatred of your perceived incompetence but an uncontrollable need to have you in his sight. He’d never had to contend with such an impulse before and found himself completely at the mercy of its whims. Garp was not happy with the freshly titled Warlord; he was meant to be helping eradicate the rebel legion that had taken this island over to ravage it for resources (humans included), not keep checking out their prized sniper like he’s a fifteen year old with his first female fixation.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Surely I can be of much more entertainment to you in the present than in whatever foggy memories you have,” Mihawk said, successfully bringing you back to him.

“Yes you can,” you admitted with too much authenticity and affection for your tastes to just leave that flavor in the ari. After a moment of thought, you softly bumped your shoulder with his and added, “You’re practically a whole circus over there, how ever could I look away?”

You didn’t expect the long and tired sigh to deflate the man next to you, leaving his upper body draped on the bar. The sound seemed to have come from so deep in his lungs that it was born from his very soul.

“Please keep all talk of circuses and especially clowns to a minimum,” Mihawk pleaded into his forearms. He lifted head to look at you with one of the grouchiest and most sour faces you’d seen on him in a long time, before plopping it back into his arms. The whole thing was only made more endearing with the way the bar had pushed his hat askew.

“What’s with that look?” you laughed. “You usually save that one for Shanks.”

“I wish it was Shanks,” he grumbled petulantly. Your laughter always brightened him back up and he longed to turn and see the beauty of it on your face, but instead chose to keep to his brooding to prolong the sound just that much more.

 If it wouldn’t send him up the wall, you would have told him how much you adored when his brooding turned pouty. It sapped him of his persistent decorum and made him feel closer - more touchable. The slouch it brought out in him always had you valiantly fighting the urge to wrap his curved chest in a firm hug. It was unfair how perfectly suited for one he looked, resting his elbows on the bar and opening him and his luxury shirt and his warm skin up for your reaching hands and arms. You shook your head after a mourning sigh and took another sip of heady wine.

“I wish it was Shanks too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” The soft spot you always showed for the Red Haired Pirates only threatened to drag Mihawk’s mood low again. It was amended slightly by your cute, happy gasp before you said, “We should go visit them soon! I’ve got a bigger chunk of free time after the next two months.”

Mihawk was always amazed by how easily tiny little gestures from you perked him back up and got his heart leaping. All you did was choose to say “we”. He wished and wished that it was always “we”, but he’d take what he could get. Even if it meant dealing with the usual treatment whenever you were both with Shanks and his crew.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk was not fond of the look Shanks was sending his way. It was all too smarmy, built on equal parts smugness and giddiness. Disgusting.

“You dog! When I tried to imagine what could have the unshakable Dracule Mihawk off his game I never would’ve guessed it was our dear Viper,” Shanks teased cheerily, bumping his shoulder into the rigid one of the swordsman next to him. Mihawk was affronted - he nearly spilled his drink from Shanks’ boorish behavior.

“Didn’t know she was yours,” Mihawk grumbled, attempting to sidestep Shanks’ prompts to have him speak his infatuation aloud.

Shanks was fighting poorly to hold in his laughter; Mihawk was absolutely sulking while he watched Yasopp teach you more gun spinning tricks. You and the sharpshooter were always all joy and play, easily finding common ground in marksmanship but with the added fun of showing your separate specializations to each other. Each bout of laughter from your direction brought another brooding line to Mihawk’s furrowed brow. This standoffish air was his habitual defense against the raw ache he’d been tending to since the two of you met.

Every time I try to play, I end up wounding her, he lamented. Why can I not earn your laughter?

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk lightly shook himself of the memory. On instinct, he turned to look at you and found you already looking at him but not really seeing him. He quietly huffed through his nose at losing you again to your own mind. He decided to give you a moment before getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had you in your funk. Beyond selfishly wanting your rapt attention, he was worried for you. You were prone to take pause and think long, especially when in quiet company, but you seemed truly lost in your own mind, taken against your will.

Mihawk’s accurate read on you was more proof of the years tentatively building rapport with each other. That intimacy you shared, which lacked the intimacy you so craved, was what had you held hostage in one of the many examples of your entwining lives.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

The quiet in the air was broken only by Mihawk’s calm breathing, his occasional quiet sips of today’s wine, and the gentle rustle of a turning page. Your own breathing was silent, having gone so long and smooth it was imperceptible due to an instinct trained in so no need of your body could get in the way of your shot. Luckily, your targets were always at such a great distance that Mihawk’s casual lounging would never alert them that they were being hunted.

“It’s been twelve hours since you’ve eaten,” Mihawk told you in a bored tone, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. You made to ignore him and continue your work, but he had never been able to stand your attention off of him for long. “Almost three since you’ve taken a sip of water.”

“Sorry, Mom, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” you mumbled back evenly. You had long lost the majority of your bitterness toward his nitpicking, instead just glad he was around and saying anything to you.

“If I was your mother, I would’ve commanded you to just let me take the target out in the first place so we could leave this boring island,” Mihawk complained.

“You really gonna take a swing at them from two miles off?” you asked, smiling as you imagined the chaos wrought from such an action. It would be a catastrophe, but it would also give you quite the show. Over your time knowing him, you’d seen Mihawk’s innate beauty and untouchable prowess countless times, but it was never enough to sate you.

“You’re not the only one who can hit a target from that distance,” Mihawk reminded you and you hoped you weren't imagining the tone of a smirk shaping his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one of us who won’t cause a tsunami in the process,” you giggled at him. 

Again, your diligence robbed you of the chance to see the poignant longing overtaking Mihawk’s face when he smiled at you. He relished every step he’d gotten closer to being the source of your joy.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“You’ve disappeared again,” Mihawk complained after sending a haughty tut your way.

You offered an apologetic smile and were happy that he accepted it readily. All those memories, years of feeling, and liquid courage built a full storm inside of you until you knew you needed to allow yourself some time in the eye of it. Being surrounded by the roaring weather would be nerve-wracking but you hoped the calm at the center helped protect you from those shredding winds. You blew a heavy sigh over your drink, refusing to look from its dark, blooded tint when you asked, “Have you ever wondered what it would’ve been like if we were together?”

He didn’t answer right away. Usually Mihawk was a man who was quick with his words, as sure in speed and precision with their strike as he was with that of his sword. You respected that sureness and bold weaponizing of his thoughts, but you deeply appreciated that, with you, he would take the time to truly parse his words when he felt the need. It suited your nature better; your patience was as legendary as your ability to shoot the wings from a fly that was miles off from the end of your rifle. 

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

“Mihawk, my dearest adversary and cherished… friend,” you hesitated on the word, never having claimed him as such to his face before. He rewarded your bravery with a gentle bump of his knee against yours and with the bare fondness that began softening his stare. “We have been playing this game, dancing this dance, for decades now. Am I really meant to believe that one question changes everything?”

“The right question can,” he asserted immediately. He opened his mouth to continue, but for once you were the one striking quick with your words.

“You are a man who does not hesitate,” you accused, staring cuttingly into his focused gaze, not backing down at the way it became shielded. “If you want something you take it.”

“And?” Mihawk prompted, tone the most biting it's been all night.

“And,” you repeated. “And…”

You sighed in defeat and turned back to your drink, closing yourself away. He was more than smart enough to know where you were going with that, but he insisted on making you be the one to say it. You wouldn’t allow him to make you insult yourself, especially after you had ventured to bring up the tenuous topic in the first place. If he refused to argue or even acknowledge your conclusions, then you’d let your drink be the friend to assuage those old hurts. The echoed sigh to your side did little to move you from your new stake out with your wounds and your wine.

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to call you foolish so his own mind would stop branding him with that word. He had been ever vigilant of you throughout the years, not only in an effort to soak you in every moment he could, but also to latch on the moment he noticed you offering him a true opening. You had finally bared your throat to him and he had managed to fail at your final test to check that he would not stoop to bite - that he would only beg to kiss.

While taking his next sip of wine, Mihawk extended an olive branch in the form of a thigh pressed firmly into yours. He was barely able to keep in the frustrated growl that pressed at his chest when you shifted yourself away. You did turn your eyes to him out of curiosity, however, but he missed the look completely, too busy reassembling himself. It let you watch carefully as the flaming lights turned his hat’s extravagant feather amber in their glow when he lifted it off his head to place on the bartop. It let him run his fingers back through his thick black curls, trying to shake his disappointment off with the teasing of his strands.

He looked over at you and finally caught on to your observing. Mihawk let his regret pour over his face, even letting his lips twitch into a momentary, rueful smile. You replied with a tired smile of your own. In the end, it turned sweet and loving; a bad habit of yours with the swordsman. You pressed your thigh back to his.

In a rare show of humility, propelled by the heat of your thigh warming his and the sweet crinkles your smile brought to your eyes (Just for me, he thought with doting greed), Mihawk took your hand and bowed himself low to touch his forehead to your knuckles. His thumb soothed gentle circles into it while he stayed lowered to you for a few long breaths. He was eager to enjoy the feeling of your skin and the decadent scent of your perfume, strong now with the proximity of your wrist. You had chosen something sultry and heady with its deep notes of orchid and amber and wood, all calling to him until he acted with thought a millisecond behind instinct.

He flipped your hand over, slowly and gently, cradling it palm up in his large hand. Still stooped, he had to move scant inches to brush the tip of his nose across the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, savoring the pull of your perfume going deep into his lungs and leading his mind to a content haze. He sealed the small caress with a feathery brush of his lips over your pulse, wishing he could make himself press harder to feel your heart thump against his lips. He longed to know if it raced with the same jumping cantor as his.

When he sat back up he was met with a vision from his dreams. You had fully turned your face to him and it was lit with a deep flush made more rosy in the fire-cast light of the bar. No ambient chatter nor clinking cutlery could keep his ears from delighting in the hitch of your breath in and the contented sigh out. Another smile indulged him, this one easily crowned his favorite with its happy chuckle, pressing cheeks, and bare affection. 

“I am a man who takes what I want,” Mihawk confirmed your words delicately. He continued to hold your hand, now enfolding it in both of his. You felt bright tingling shooting from the contact and the press of your thighs. They made you twenty again, staring down the most handsome and insipidly arrogant man you’d ever met and cursing your heart for its clear choice. “I take what I want, not who I want. People aren’t for the taking, little viper.”

You laughed at the title, never feeling it sat quite right. You felt you wore it well at work only. The imagery it brought up of femme fatales and their hypnotizing looks and lethal wit made you feel like a young girl cloaked ill-fittingly in her mother’s best event wear, barely able to peek your head out of the wool coat dwarfing you. Mihawk noted your discomfort with the title throughout the years but never found the proper words to have you see that all who said it were reverent when they saw how well the word wrapped over you.

“What if-” again you hesitate. You scrunch your face in anger at your nature, but before Mihawk had time to bring a hand to your face and soothe it back into a smile, you force out the words. “What if I am for the taking?”

Mihawk’s thumbs stopped their massaging and you felt his thigh jump to tense against your own. Staring into his widening eyes and how they glowed so beautifully - too beautifully to be within your reach - you immediately wished you could suck the words right back into your lungs. You made it this far though, so you instead worried at your lip and clung your hand onto Mihawk’s stalled hold.

Finally, he unfroze.

“For the night only?” Mihawk probed, wanting answers but worrying about making you close off again.

“Do you only want the night?” You tossed back to him, unwilling to turn this propositioning into a confession of the long years you have built a deep and sturdy love for him, no matter your attempts to welcome others into its halls.

“What I want,” Mihawk said, gentle and deliberate in coloring his tone with humble honestly, “is to be what you want.”

You were taken aback by the confession, but you were even more awed by the look he was giving you. He was still slightly stooped, broad shoulders gently curved and bent towards you, pulled down under the need to lower himself below you but body still gravitating towards you with the magnetism he’s been weak to since you first crossed paths. Framed by those shoulders and his wild curls, Mihawk looked to you with the sadly tinted longing you had felt seize you in his presence all this time. While the furrow of his brow and glimmer of his eyes had your brain buzzing with more hope than you’d dare let it host before, your chest squeezed at the conflict you saw in him; you knew that torment in your very bones.

“You always have been,” you whispered on a trembling breath. Mihawk’s eyes went wild for a moment where his whole body tensed and you felt his urge to pounce on you steal the oxygen from the room. He thanked the gods for a majority of his life spent learning control and restraint, while he got himself in order and pressed the firm kiss he’d longed for to your wrist instead. 

“Come with me,” Mihawk commanded through lips still pressed to your skin, though it was the closest you’d heard him to begging in your entire life.

You let yourself partake in a longtime wish by moving your other hand to card your fingers back into his thick hair, happy to find that it was just as soft as you had imagined. Their trailing came back around to have your palm cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, tickling your hand with the rub of his precise facial hair when he allowed himself one small nuzzle into your loving hold. That hand guided him up to meet your eyes so he could see the love you held for him finally displayed openly in all its abundance.

“Wherever you ask me to, I will go,” you promised.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

[devoted-tiefling]

a/n: a stupid brain rot thing that was inspired by my post here ft. my completely blind tav who is a tiefling druid with a propensity to dream

warning: spoilers for act one of the game

You rolled the ring around in between your fingers like a coin, turning it over on the backs of your fingers, flipping it side over side.

Though it was made with cheap metal, it felt warm in your hand instead of cool. Probably because you held onto it so often.

Normally, you wouldn't have been able to read what was on it but the infernal was carved in well enough that you could feel the grooves of it under your fingertips.

Most of it was just nonsense; runes taken out of a fairytale book perhaps or maybe just symbols that kid took a fancy to.

The infernal, however, on the inside spelled well-wishes; love, luck, protection. it was the wish of every single tiefling ever born since anyone could remember.

Just running your finger over them made you feel warm, made you feel understood and maybe just a little bit less lonely.

"And what are you up to, darling?"

You knew that voice to be Astarion and all his rather sassy glory. Immediately, you smiled, sitting up a bit straighter as you felt him sit down next to you, his thigh pressed tightly against yours.

"Just fiddling, biding time." You answered easily enough, shrugging as you continued to roll your finger around the inside of the ring.

Astarion hummed, sounding like he was trying to seem uninterested when, truly, it was always the opposite "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" You asked only to answer your own question "Oh, play with this ring?"

"Yes. Look at it. The gold is slowly flaking off!" Astarion huffed and you could imagine him rolling his eyes "I hope you didn't give those tiefling brats good money for a phony gold ring."

You let out a little tittering giggle before holding out your free hand. Astarion, so used to you now, automatically put his palm against yours.

"Feel the grooves underneath." You guided one of his fingers into the ring.

You knew approximately where his finger was so you knew what word it was he was feeling for "Hope."

You let him run his fingertip over that for a moment before turning the ring more "Shelter."

Then, the next, just as carved in as the last "Protection."

On and on, you showed him the small miniscule words that carried heavy meaning to them. Love, luck, kindness.

Six words that probably meant a whole lot to those kids.

"The brat told me it was a ring of infinite wishes but, really, it was a ring filled with their wishes." You let Astarion pull away and, like always, you immediately missed the comforting press of his body against yours.

"What a load of horseshit." He chuckled but your perceptive twitching tiefling ears immediately heard it for what it was: a bluff.

You didn't think Astarion realised it but you knew he saw himself in those tiefling kids.

You knew that, if it had been him 100 or so years ago, he would've carved his wishes into metal in a desperate hope that, perhaps, some higher-power would hear him out then.

So, despite how you'd practically kept the ring in your fist ever since you'd gotten it, you felt around for Astarion's hand yet again and placed the ring snuggly into his ring finger.

Astarion let out a soft scoff "I hope you don't think I'll marry you if you're proposing with such a cheap ring."

You laughed again, tittering, soft, before leaning in, your lips brushing against Astarion's jaw "I want you to have it so your wishes come true instead."

"Oh, darling, if my wishes came true, the world would truly become an insanely dark place." He countered your sincerity with his own little quip but you knew he appreciated it because his calling hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"I wouldn't mind as long as I'm by your side." You snuggled in while being careful of your horns, happy to indulge in the intimacy Astarion was allowing you "It's not like I'll see first-hand what dastardly deeds you're up to anyway so I'll have plausible deniability."

The way Astarion laced his fingers with yours and laughed made the bad joke worth it. You especially enjoyed the new chill the ring on his fingers took on, comforting and smooth against your skin.

[chlorinecake]

 ⋆｡˚ ✈︎ love at first flight | N.RK

ft riki x fem!reader, nwjns hanni, enha jake | genre fluff, airport crush, strangers to lovers | cw language, flirting, kissing, dirty jokes, petty "arguments," possibly geographically incorrect | pt. 1, 2, and 3 here | wc 4894

synopsis. 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳…🗼

It was around 11:00pm as you struggled to find your passport.

"I could've sworn it was on my desk yesterday," you thought to yourself, searching through your messy bedroom.

After your morning cafe date with Riki, he dropped you off at your apartment so you could get started with packing as soon as possible, given that your flight was booked for take off the next day.

You're still not sure why you said yes to Riki's impulsive offer, though, part of you wanted to believe that saying "no" would've been an even riskier call.

Riki, in all of his handsome glory, had been a menace to your soul. You just couldn't put a finger on what is was about him that kept luring you in almost magnetically.

Ding, dong.

Your breath hitched at the sound of someone knocking outside your apartment door. Grabbing the purple ink pen from your dresser, conveniently sitting next to your diary, you gripped it like a weapon as you approached the door cautiously.

Knock, knock, knock.

Unlocking the latch and twisting the handle, you slung the door open to reveal none other than Riki, standing calmly with grocery bags in each hand.

"Good night! And yes, that can be a greeting… What's the pen for?" He shrugged, walking past you and straight into your apartment as if owning the place.

You flashed him an annoyed look before closing the door behind him, suddenly feeling embarrassed while dressed in your pjs.

"It's for self defense, night stalker. And how'd you even know where I live?" You asked accusingly.

"I drove you here earlier after the cafe, remember?" He said while placing the grocery bags on your study desk to unload the items.

Damn, you thought to yourself, It must be wayyy past my bedtime...

"Anyways, I brought you this neck pillow-thingy for the plane," Riki smiled, walking up to you and fastening the pillow around your neck, "Pretty cool, right?"

"Uhhh, sure," you mumbled, standing awkwardly as he welcomed himself to explore your bedroom.

"So...," he began with a grin, "this is where you keep your pretty little panties, huh?" Running a finger over the surface of your dresser, he stopped once he met your oh-so familiar diary.

"Hmm. I remember this little guy. How many pages have you written about me so far? My guess is at least 3."

"Jokes on you, Riki. I don't reminisce about people I haven't even known for a week," you said with a sigh, plopping on your bed, too tired to retaliate physically.

He parts his lips as if wanting to say something, but nothing came out. He only walked over to your bed, taking a seat beside you.

"Look, ____. If you wanna back out of this trip, it's not too late. I understand that this is a pretty big thing I'm asking of you."

"No, Riki, I really do wanna go. It's just that I lost my passport somewhere in this stupid apartment and now I can't find it," you pouted before suddenly feeling his weight escape your side.

He paced around your room as if an internal GPS was guiding him in the right direction.

"What're you doing?" You giggled, watching as he picked up a random toilet paper tube to use as a searching tool.

"Shh, I think I see it!" He whispered, reaching for a navy blue and gold envelope from under one of your shoe boxes, "Voici!"

You gazed in shock, not only at his use of French, but also at how he actually managed to find it, let alone that quickly.

"Holy shit, Riki! You're a lifesaver!" You beamed, running to give him a bear hug.

"I bet you've been dying to do that since I came in," he teased, trying to conceal his own blushing.

You were losing track of how many times he flirted with you in the past five minutes, but you were just glad that he found your passport in time.

All there was left to do now after packing was explain to your best friend Hanni where you'd be for the next 2-3 days.

The following morning came by quicker than you already expected it to.

Fortunately, y'all arrived at the airport just in time for boarding, going to your respectful seats on the aircraft according to your ticket numbers.

And finally, it was time for takeoff.

You and Riki hadn't even been on the plane for thirty minutes before you started bumping heads with each other.

“How come you get to sit by the window? You’re not even taking pictures,” You scolded him, crossing your arms in frustration.

“You see? That’s the problem with this generation. Always seeking technology to bring them happiness," He said, shaking his head.

“Riki, we’re literally depending on technology to carry us cross country. Welcome to our advanced society.”

“That’s not even a fair comparison, but go off.”

You scoffed, “Don’t ‘but go off’ me!”

“Or what?” He challenged, flashing you a smirk that made you internally curse him for being so effortlessly attractive.

“I said, or what?” He continued, putting an arm around the head of your seat and pulling your face towards his by your chin.

The way he peered into your eyes made you feel like kissing h—

OH GOD, NO! NOT AT ALL! NEVER, you thought to yourself.

He licked his lower lip, making you stutter as you answered, “O-or I’ll… I’ll tell your mom on you!”

He snorted at your empty threat, “Yeah, good luck with that. She doesn’t speak English for shit.”

“Well, whatever, I’ll just use google translate,” you snapped back.

“Oh, so you think fast?”

“Only when I-“

He interrupted your words with a kiss to your forehead, “Not fast enough, apparently,” he winked, sitting back in his seat.

Oh boy. This trip is already kicking off to an interesting start.

You sat frozen as if he’d just snatched your soul away, focusing on the moisture his lips left on your skin.

“And don’t even think about wiping that off,” he smirked, searching through his carrier bag before pulling out a pair of wired headphones.

You weren't gonna let him win that easily.

Exhaling your nerves, you thought of something catty to say back to him/

“Now look who’s a product of our e-generation, Mr. iPad Kid. Let me guess, is it time for Cocomelon?” You pouted facetiously, trying to conceal your nervousness from whatever the hell possessed him to kiss you.

“I’m just tired of hearing the air conditioner," he shrugged, "Sue me.”

Riki plugged the headphones into his phone port, opening the Spotify app (not sponsored lol) on his phone and selecting a random playlist. “Wanna listen?” He asked softly, meeting you with his dark brown eyes.

You took the left earbud from his hand, positioning it into your own ear as the sounds of lofi rhythms met your ears. After a few minutes, you drifted off to sleep, not even realizing that you were laying on his shoulder.

Riki eventually followed after you, leaning his head atop yours as he snored softly. Though, he’d likely never tell you that part of the story once you woke up.

A couple more hours in the plane passed, and you were officially landing at your final destination: Paris, France.

“I'm sorry, you’re WHERE? With WHO?!?!” Hanni yelled over the phone.

You didn’t mean to make it seem like you'd been keeping this big secret from her, but you simply never got around to telling her... that you were impulsivey traveling across country with a guy you met at the airport last week.

“Look, it’s only for a few days, I’ll be fine,” you replied, unpacking your luggage on the hotel room bed.

Riki was busy getting you an extra key card for the room, so you didn’t have to worry about him barging in on your conversation for a while.

“Tell me. Why did you think this was a good idea, ____. Honestly? Hell, did you even think before saying yes?”

“Of course I did, Hanni… but if you’re just gonna keep scolding me, I’d rather we talk about something else,” you whined, hating the way she started to make you feel.

"Ugh, I’m sorry, bestie! Please don’t misinterpret my concern for cruelty.”

“It’s okay, Hanni, I know you're just looking out for me... but, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Omg, naur!! Forget I said anything! I want you to enjoy yourself in Paris! Just call me if you need anything, alright?…unless it’s love advice or—”

“Money, I know. Talk to you later, pigtails!”

“Later,” she giggled, ending the call with a ‘mwah’ from her end. You placed your phone down on the mattress, flinching at the sight of Riki walking out of the bathroom, tossing the extra key card on the bed.

“What the- I thought you were in the lobby?”

“Yeah, but I came back up not too long ago. Don’t worry, I didn’t eavesdrop… the entire time,” he teased, running a hand through his hair as he observed your luggage. “I hope you have a pretty outfit in there.”

“Mhm, and why’s that?”

“Because, we’re going out to dinner, silly,” he said, pulling out an ironing board from the closet to press his wrinkled pants.

You didn't expect for Riki to wanna go out so soon after just arriving.

Either way, you tried on a few outfits before finally choosing the beret and plaid pink skirt-suit you usually wore during business meetings, which ironically fit the chic Parisian aesthetic.

“Bonjour, and welcome to Le Goût! Do you need help navigating the menu or are you familiar with French dishes?” The waitress asked in a friendly accent.

“We actually already spoke to one of your waiters. He’s putting in our order right now,” Riki replied, handing her one of the extra menus from your table.

“Very well, then. I’ll pop back around once you’re ready to order dessert. Call for Ines if you need anything else,” she smiled, walking away.

You swirled the ice cubes in your glass, just as your previous waiter came out with your food.

“Velvety Escargots Bourguignonne for the gentleman, and Chicken Fricassee for the lady,” he said, placing down your plates and walking away.

Riki stared at his plate with disgust in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, folding a napkin over your lap to catch any spills or crumbs as you ate.

“Uhmmm, I didn’t order snails…,” he cringed, poking at the shelled creatures on his plate with a fork.

“You literally looked at the menu and told the waiter that’s what you wanted. I thought you spoke French!”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can read it,” he replied.

“What did you think ‘escargot bourguignonne’ meant anyways?”

“Dunno, sounds like a pasta dish to me.”

“Well… do you wanna trade plates?” You offered, not wanting to come off as silly foreigners for misreading the menu.

“Pfft, of course not, I’m getting my money back! Ines! Excusez-moi, madame Ines?!”

You reached for Riki’s hand, trying to redirect his attention, “Riki, please, let’s just enjoy our food. Paris is a culinary landmark, I’m sure we’ll run into some better places after this,” you pleaded, swapping the plates on the table.

He let out a sigh, unrolling his napkin and placing it on his lap as well, “Fine. Bon appétit and what not.”

After finishing up in Le Goût, you and Riki took a walk from the restaurant, exploring the streets of France.

You weren’t too worried about getting lost, because Riki hired a personal chauffeur to guide you two through the city if needed..

He hadn’t realized how much farther ahead of you he was walking until you grabbed onto his hand.

“Oh, so we’re making it a public thing, I see?” He winked, pulling you closer to him.

“No, you just walk fast as hell and I can’t keep up with your legs,” you corrected, giving him a look.

“Mhm, whatever you say, ____.”

That’s when you two stumbled upon a group of people, waiting at the edge of a dock to be boarded on for a boat ride.

“Please don’t say you’re afraid of water,” Riki looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You weren’t too fond of potentially getting your cute outfit soiled, but with the way Riki peered into your eyes, it was hard to say no... again.

“Okay, let’s go,” you smiled, following behind him as he led you by the hand.

It didn’t take long for the officials to load you and Riki on the raft, as he opted for the cheaper version that gave him control to row the boat.

You watched as he paddled across the Seine River with childlike glee, observing the antique buildings surrounding the Eiffel Tower.

If it wasn’t for the cool breeze pulling you back to reality, you would’ve believed you were dreaming at how beautiful the scenery was.

How beautiful this moment with Riki was—

Ugh, never mind, it’s probably the snails affecting the chemicals in your brain.

“This is incredible,” Riki exclaimed, his arms rotating at a constant circle as he maneuvered the boat paddles, soaking up the Parisian sun.

“Like how incredible it is that despite your amateurish being, you can somehow pull everything off,” you smirked, nudging his knee with your shoe.

“Amateurish being? I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve that you haven’t even seen yet, ____. Trust, biologically, I was BUILT to pull everything off.”

“Right, so what happened with those snails earlier?”

“Gosh, are you seriously bringing that up right now?”

“Yes, I am seriously, deadass, on God, for real am bringing this up.”

He tried to hide the smile that dared to show on his face at the way you mocked his previous use of slang.

“Don’t get shy now, Riki. I can see you blushing.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, clicking his teeth with his tongue before throwing the paddles into the river.

“RIKI!”

“Whoops! Looks like my bashful little fingers slipped,” he giggled, not being able to contain his laughter from the shocked expression on your face.

“Guess we’re gonna have to swim back. Come on,” he beamed, talking off his turtleneck before diving into the lake, water splashing all over your lap.

“Oh my God, Riki, you’re such an imbecile!”

“And you’re such a baby! Now come on, the water feels great, I promise!”

You watched as the water rippled around his movements.

You couldn't see anything below the dark blue river, making you feel anxious about actually jumping in.

“W-w-what if there are alligators hiding in there?”

“Pfft,” he scoffed, “French alligators? I mean, if I’m still swimming, they must have a pretty low appetite… unless… they prefer breast meat,” he winked, treading in the water.

“Gosh, you’re such a weirdo,” you whined, watching as he made his way over to the other side of the lake, marching up the rocky land.

He shook his head like a puppy, trying to get rid of the access water in his hair.

You looked away from him shyly, trying not to peek at how the white t-shirt he wore clung to his toned abs.

“Are you coming over here today, or what?” He teased, putting his hands on his hips.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, leveling your nerves before jumping in the water, leaving your favorite beret behind in the now abandoned boat.

So much for being peaceable foreigners.

After making it to Riki, which wasn’t nearly as daunting as you expected, he applauded your performance. “Brava, ____! Brava!! You successfully swam across a 30ft deep river!”

“30?!” you shivered in disbelief, thankful that he shared the rivers depth with you after you already got across.

“Relax, ____, that’s like a kiddy pool. Anyways, let’s get back to the hotel before we get sick,” he said as the chilly winds hit both your wet bodies. 

Under any other ordinary circumstances, you probably would’ve beaten the hell out of Riki for being so careless.

But it was something about the Parisian air that made you care less.

Riki phoned the chauffeur to bring you back to the resort, where he arranged a spa evening for you to be professionally pampered by French beauticians.

Meanwhile, he went to shower in the hotel room, saying that he’d meet you back at the spa when you were finished.

One of the hairdressers gave you a blow out and quick trim just to clean up your ends.

Then, conveniently after your finger nail polish finished drying, your phone beeped with a message from Hanni.

Riki tapped you on the shoulder, the scent of his sweet citrus cologne hitting your senses.

“You ready?” He asked, picking up one of the matcha macarons the spa staff gave you.

“Ready for what?”

“To eat. I know you’ve gotten all pretty, but I think it’s best we stay in since it’s dark out now.”

Did he just call you pretty?!?!

“Okay, we can hit up the French market and maybe make something for dinner," you suggested.

“Oh my gosh, great idea! We could make my mom’s gyoza recipe!”

“Oh, did she make the ones you let me try at the airport that day, too?”

“I can’t believe you still remember that," he said in shock.

“Well yeah, that was only a few days ago…”

“Hmm. I guess you just don’t seem like a stranger to me anymore,” He smiled, grabbing your hand and leading you from the resort spa.

After shopping at the market, where the prices were surprisingly affordable, you and Riki headed back to your hotel room to unpack the groceries.

“I hope you’re good at cooking,” Riki chimed, grabbing a large bowl to fill with all the French snacks you brought from the store.

“Why, exactly?”

“Because, I’m mostly gonna watch while you keep me entertained, Chef ____.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, grabbing a knife and chopping board as you started prepping the ingredients you’d need.

“Does ‘tsp’ mean tablespoon or teaspoon?” You asked, struggling to interpret his Mom’s recipe instructions.

“All I know is big spoon and little spoon,” he smirked, leaning closer over the counter.

You brushed off his flirting as you kept trying to figure out the recipe. That’s when Riki grabbed a handful of fondue flavored chips from the snack bowl, crunching them between his teeth.

“Gosh, would you stop chewing so freaking loud? I can’t think!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a babo,” he teased, poking you on the nose.

“Bet you can’t say that in French.”

“Pfft, why would I need to?”

“Because you said you speak French?”

“For the last time, I do! I’m just not a dictionary.”

“Sounds like another lame excuse, but whatever. Pass me the sesame oil… Oh, and one of those chips!”

Making the gyoza wasn’t nearly as hard as you anticipated. Though, your main struggle came with capturing the authentic flavors.

After steaming the doughy purses and tossing them in a dark chili sauce, you plated a few for Riki to try, even though you both were already stuffed from the snacks alone.

“Ugh, can you at least try them while they’re fresh?” You whined, bringing one of the saucy gyozas to Riki’s mouth with a pair of chopsticks.

He complied with a sigh, parting his lips as he hummed.

“What do you think?”

“Well, they don’t taste like my mom’s, but they’re not horrible. I’ll give it a 4/10.”

“Huh?!”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to do better than her, or even come close, so don’t feel too bad about it.”

You pouted, wrapping the remaining dumplings in plastic wrap before placing them in the hotel fridge.

“Alright, let’s freshen up and head to bed,” he suggested, wiping the kitchen counter and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

You went in after he finished, changing into your pajamas and meeting him on the kingsized bed.

“Ahh... I love Paris,” he smiled, adjusting his head on the pillow.

“Yeah. Me too, but why?”

“Because, the next time I visit, I’ll be reminded of you.”

“Aww, how cheesy,” you smiled, returning a poke to his nose.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never had this much fun with someone before.”

“But we’ve been arguing the entire time.”

“I know, but… that’s just our way of…”

“Flirting?”

He blushed at your words, “Yea. Our way of flirting.”

You felt your own face heat up in the moment, fighting the urge to scoot closer to him on the mattress.

“So,” you began timidly, “what comes after this stage?”

“Depends,” he replied, resting his hands behind his head, “Where do you want it to go?”

“Riki…”

“What?”

“We just met—“

“That doesn’t answer my question, ____.”

You let out a breath, thinking on his words, “Hmm. I think we would make great fr-enemies.”

He giggled, “That’s it?”

“That's it. But maybe with time… we could—”

Buzz, buzz.

A notification from Riki’s phone lit up the dim hotel room. He reached for his phone, only to see a text from his friend Jake, who said he just arrived in Paris and wanted to meet up tomorrow.

“Was this planned?” You asked confused.

“No?… I don’t know why he’s here... or how he even knows I’m here.”

“Well. Looks like we better get some rest for tomorrow.”

“Ughh, but I wanted to spend our last day here together,” he pouted, rubbing his eyebrows.

“And we still can, Riki. It’ll probably be fun having your friend around, anyway.”

A moment of silence filled the air before he spoke.

“Fine. As long as you don’t mind, neither do I,” he smiled, turning off the night light before trying to get some sleep.

“Hanni. Pham. You sneaky salamander!”

"Bonjour, bestie! Turns out, Riki does have a cute and single friend. Meet Jake, my favorite Aussie boy!" She beamed, clinging onto him as if they've known each other for life.

You wondered if that's how you and Riki looked together.

"Nice to meet you, Jake," you forced a smile, shaking his hand.

"You too, Miss ____," he returned with an Australian accent that caught you off guard.

No wonder Hanni and him were already getting along so well.

"Jake-hyung, when you said you wanted to hang out at the amusement park, I didn't think you meant for a double-date," Riki said with an awkward smile, searching your face for an 'okay' sign.

"Aww, c'mon Nishi, it's not every day that you're granted with such convenient chances (😉) to hang out with friends," Jake began.

"Exactly. Let's make the most of this beautiful day, shall we?" Hanni encouraged, taking your hand in hers as you, Riki, and Jake went on to explore the park.

The four of you went on more rides than you could keep track of, ranging from ferris wheels, spinning teacups, and rollercoasters.

It was also fun watching Riki and Jake battle it out on an amusement park mini game to win a stuffed animal prize: Of course, Riki won, but you gave the plush to Hanni because you didn't feel like carrying it around.

You all planned to end the night with ice cream, but that was until Riki caught sight of a jewelry making station.

"____, we have to," Riki said in a serious tone.

You giggled, "Have to what? Make matching friendship bracelets?"

"Uh, YES!"

Hanni and Jake sat at a different table than you and Riki, hooking different charms to the silver bracelet chains provided by the staff.

You and Riki decided to make one for each other and then swap them once you finished.

"Are you guys almost done?" Jake asked, looking at the time which was running close to 7:30pm.

"Almost, I just need to make a few finishing touches," Riki smiled, adding on some beads.

Finally, you all payed for the bracelets and put them in velvet baby blue goody bags, bidding your farewells before heading back to your respective hotel rooms to pack.

"Today was so much fun," Riki exclaimed, sorting the clothes in his suitcase.

"I know, I'm already sad just thinking about how we go back to reality tomorrow."

"Yeah...but in the meantime, let's enjoy our last few hours in Paris," he smiled, closing his suitcase before putting on a French film for you both to fall asleep to.

The next morning came by faster than desired. On the flight back home, you reminisced about your fun weekend in Paris as though you might forget the moment you stopped thinking.

It was the simple things that started to effect you the most.

Riki's random Spotify playlist knitted memories with songs, faces to feelings.

You were falling hard for Riki, and the truth was, you had been since day one. It was obvious that he felt the same way about you, too.

The only thing holding you back was the fear of letting go.

The fear of letting love.

"All flight passengers, we have started our descent and will be landing shortly. Please remain seated after making sure your tray tables are in their upright positions and any other personal belongings are within your vicinity. Thank you," the pilot spoke from the head of the plane.

You and Riki were sharing a box of cream filled French cookies as you finished the last few minutes of the movie "Your Name" on his laptop.

"So you're telling me that this ends with Taki and Mitsuha not remembering each other?" You asked sadly, wishing the two characters could've had a happier ending.

"Not in this film, no. But the director mentioned something in an interview about them eventually reuniting and even getting married," Riki clarified, taking a sip from his carton of chocolate milk.

You sighed, looking out the window as the ending credits played silently in the background.

Riki tapped your shoulder, causing you to whip your head to face him.

"Here," he said, handing you the baby blue velvet sack he kept from Paris.

After making your bracelet, he said he wouldn't let you see it until y'all were in the plane. Turns out, that moment was now.

"Open it," he nearly whispered, his usual piercing eyes becoming more soft.

You took the bag in your hand, untying the string as you slid the silver bracelet in your palm. Riki didn't hesitate to fasten the hook around your wrist, a hue of pink rising to his cheeks at the sight.

You observed the rainbow heart beads and other cute charms that ran across the length of the bracelet.

One charm that stood out to you most was the shimmery blue airplane, dangling next to a cursive letter R.

The bracelet was so nice that it made you feel insecure about the one you made for him. He payed attention to so many little details, all apart of every moment that you shared together so far.

Even though the gesture was simple, you were left speechless.

"Riki, it's beautiful," you beamed, fighting the urge to hug him.

"Alright, alright, now where's mine," he teased, shaking with anticipation.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot," you giggled, reaching in your purse to hand him the velvet sack containing the bracelet you made him.

That's when a robotic voice emitted a series of beeps and tones from the ceiling speakers: a familiar chime that let you know the airplane had officially landed.

Riki was quick to grab your luggage and his, making his way to the airport base as you trailed behind him.

You knew after landing, the peaceful nature of your weekend would be bombarded with the busy world you knew best.

You still couldn't believe that you had just traveled cross-country with a complete stranger, and if given the opportunity, you wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

Riki took your hands in his just as your Uber ride pulled up outside the airport, since your usual chauffeur, Hanni, was still in Paris with her 'favorite Aussie boy.'

"I don't really know what to say, but... Paris was cool...with you, I mean," Riki admitted shyly, his usually dominant aura faltering before you.

"Yeah. Paris was cool with you, too, Riki," you smiled, stepping on your tip-toes and kissing him on the cheek.

You turned on your heel, walking towards the shiny glass doors with your polkadot suitcase clicking behind you.

Of course you looked back, and of course he was still there waiting for you to leave with a smile.

You made your way to the vehicle, loaded your things in the trunk before hopping in the backseat.

The quiet Uber driver made his way out of the parking lot while a certain thought meddled in the back of your mind: Riki and I will probably never see each other again.

Still, unlike Taki and Mitsuha, you could never forget the flirty TSA agent who stole your heart.

You looked at the bracelet on your wrist again, smiling at the recent memories that were already started to feel distant.

That's when you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Buzz, buzz.

You pulled your phone from your purse, revealing a text on your screen from a number you hadn't made a contact for yet:

"Hey, it's Riki. I know you just left, but I might die if we don't hang out tomorrow. Coffee at Café Royale's? Again? Maybe?"

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

 ⋆｡˚ ✈︎ Thank you all so much for reading this ff! This concludes the finale for my long awaited "Flirty TSA Agent" Series. With that being said, feel free to check out my enhypen bookshelf for more fun reads!

 ⋆｡˚ ✈︎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @rickysblkgf @bambangan

[maraudersmyloves]

hiii, congrats for the 750 followers!! 🎉 the event is so creative and adorable too, i'm in love with it <3 can i please get a thornless rose, pink, with statice and tree fern (the prompt being "can we stay just like this?") thank you anyways, i love your blog!!

thank you for requesting!!

CUT AND ARRANGED JUST FOR: anonymous

⊹˚₊˚꒰🌹・꒱ THORNLESS ROSES ; James Potter, golden retriever x black cat, Fluff

⊹˚. ౨ৎ can we just stay like this?

Pairing: James Potter x reader Warnings: cussing Word count: 739 Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!! "lazy mornings". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You often wish for the morning to last longer. Your dorm mates wake up expecting to hear you grumbling about how it's way too early and the air is too cold. The only thing that gets you to shut up about it is the breakfast, even though it's not the best you appreciate any warm food in the morning. So, when you decide not to show up to breakfast on waffle day it raises some questions.

You, however, haven't bothered to think about something as mundane as breakfast when you're in James' warm arms. You've been awake for at least an hour but chose to stay still listening to the calming heartbeat in James' ever-rising chest. He's been awake for even longer than you, but can't bring himself to do more than mumble quiet "I love you" s into the warm and slightly stuffy air. He pulls you impossibly closer, knowing what's about to happen.

His last-minute alarm is going to go off in about five minutes, meaning he really has to get up. But then he wouldn't be hugging you anymore, so… Instead of thinking about the breakfast he's missing and the places he has to be he opts for simply looking at you. Your face is snuggled into his chest, hiding your gorgeous face from his view. Since he can't admire your beautiful features, he lets his eyes scan your relaxed posture.

Your legs are intertwined with his, with one hiking up higher than the other, while your arms circle his waist and he can't help but sigh in adoration as you wiggle around to get even more comfortable,

James loves moments like this, but sadly it is disrupted by a high-pitched alarm going off from his desk. It's a good trick, really. To have the alarm far enough away that he has to stand up to stop the disgustingly loud beeping but god does he loath himself for doing it. You don't seem too fond of it either as you release a muffled but originally very loud scream into his chest.

"God, James! What the fuck kind of alarm is this. Put it out, won't ya??"

He chuckles. He goddamn chuckles at you as if a war crime wasn't being committed to your ears. God, you hate him.

"Can't love," he says with a big smirk as if the alarm isn't even bothering him. Of course, it isn't. Nothing bothers the great James fucking Potter. You would've thought he cared more about still having fine hearing when he's thirty but guess not. Then again if this continues he won't even live till twenty-one if you've got something to say about it.

You breathe out through your nose, irritated as you answer, "Why the fuck not?" And he looks like he just found a pot of gold under a goddamn rainbow. God, you want to kiss slap him!!

"You're laying on me, darling."

Oh.

Well, guess he really couldn't.

Maybe you should apologize. You do feel a bit bad, nonetheless, you roll off him with a huff and a small glare. Can't let him know he's defeated you.

He stands up after giving you a small kiss on the nose and walks over to his desk to put an end to the noise. When he does, he can see and hear you calm down. You exhale and your whole face relaxes, you're eyebrows unscrunch (is that even a word??) and your eyes go from squeezed close incredibly tight to slightly open. You're lying on your back now, body covered in his oversized shirt and giant blanket.

You look at him sweetly and he knows he's going to have to ask Remus for notes later because he wants nothing more than to spend the day here, cuddled up with you.

Apperantly, you don't agree.

You move to get up but before you're able to do more than put away the blanket James is covering you in his body instead. And he will not let you go. "Jamie," you whine. "We have to get to class."

He kisses your neck, "class is boring."

You try pushing him off you even though you know you won't be able to lift his muscular body off you. The fact that you don't really want to doesn't help either. Sadly, though, you have common sense. "For you maybe. I actually have to study."

"I'll help you later. Can't we just stay like this?"