#but then you know. i was given a Decent Amount of Money and i was like weelllll

[ramblingoak]

Little Thief

Secondo x Female Reader

A little yeehaw!Secondo story for my dearest friendo @kissingghouls. Happy Birthday to my favorite haunted painting! I hope you have the most amazing day because you deserve only amazing things 💙 (special thank you to @tasty-ribz for the perfect Secondo art)

Warnings: gun violence, smut, nsfw 18+ only, mdni, 5,700 words, this does have a connection to The Cardinal's Bride universe but you can enjoy this just fine on its own! (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

Coming here was a mistake.

You jumped over the bar as the bullets started flying, ducking down and throwing an arm over your head when the liquor bottles began shattering above you.  The Ministry was a big mark, way bigger than you had ever hit before, and you knew, you knew that it was going to be risky.  You just hadn’t expected this to happen.  Although at least the gunfight wasn’t your fault.

This time.

A body crashed down next to you, lifeless and still.  With a grunt you turned it over to search for their gun.  It was still in its holster so you yanked it out, pausing to shove your hand into their back pocket and take their wallet too.  It’s not like they were gonna need either anyway.  You rolled onto your knees, carefully putting your hands at the edge of the bartop to take a peek over.  

“Well, shit.”

Chaos was still reigning over the casino floor but fortunately now it was mostly fist fights.  The Ghouls that worked here had made quick work of most of those that had started shooting.  You could see a small pile of bodies forming already.  The two big Ghouls that were working the door that night easily lugging the men around.  They were distracted enough you glanced towards the door, knowing that you needed to get out of there soon.  Especially before any deputies arrived.  

Lowering yourself back down you started crawling towards the door, keeping behind the bar and trying to avoid the broken glass.  Tonight had been such a damn waste.  You should have just skipped the town altogether.  This is what happened when you got cocky but damn, you had gotten tired of doing small jobs.  Stealing from a big casino, from The Ministry of all places, would have been perfect.  And it would have given you enough money to have a little breathing room before your next job.

Oh well, you had gotten a decent enough amount from cheating at cards.  It was enough to get you a room in the next town over for a few weeks at least.  You reached the end of the bar and started to pull yourself up for one last look.  Unfortunately you weren’t met with a view of the casino floor like you expected.  Instead you ended up face to face with the man that ran The Ministry, a man you had heard enough about to know you should avoid him at all costs.

“Going somewhere?”  Secondo’s tone was bored, his eyes raking over you briefly before he turned his attention to the glass of whiskey in his hand.  “That’s a shame, I was hoping you’d stay a little longer.”

“Oh?  Why is that?”

You knew you should’ve just kept your mouth shut and made a run for the door.  The Ghouls were still occupied enough sorting through who needed to be kicked or carried out that you doubted any of them would try to stop you.  The chance of this man trying to stop you though had you frozen in place.

“I was curious how much more of my money you would steal.”

Fuck.  You glanced towards the door but Secondo was smirking when you looked back so you stayed put.  There was no way you’d make it now.  He might be surrounded by his Ghouls but you’d heard enough stories about Papa Secondo to have a healthy amount of fear of him.  Enough to realize you definitely shouldn’t have come here.  You took a fortifying breath and squared your shoulders while you stared him down.

Time to see if you could talk yourself out of trouble.

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Come now, I’m not an idiot.”  He took a sip of his drink before continuing,  “And despite you thinking you could get away with stealing from me I don’t think you’re one either.”

“A compliment from Papa?  Sounds like something I should brag about.”  When those odd eyes of his flashed to yours you reached out and grabbed the drink from his hands, knocking back a mouthful before setting it down.  “Kind of like how I’d brag about stealing from you.  You know, if I had done that.”

“Are you sure?  Because I’ve been watching you most of the night.”  His voice had dropped an octave and he’d turned to give you his full attention.  “Ever since my associate Mist told me what you were up to.”

“Mist?”

“She’s at the end of the bar now.  Watching.”  You looked down to see a woman with piercing blue eyes leaning against the bar.  When you turned back to Secondo he had leaned in close and his breath danced across your cheek with his next words.  “She thinks you will do something stupid.”

“The only stupid thing I did tonight was come here.”  He narrowed his eyes at your comment but you continued anyway,  “Your games are terrible and this whiskey is mostly water.”

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting him to do at your insults.  Threaten you maybe.  At worst try to grab you and then who knows what.  Mist certainly seemed the type to do whatever her boss told her to do.  But all Secondo did was laugh, the sound drew the attention of some of the other Ghouls but they got back to cleaning quickly.  

“Ma dài, bellezza?  Sei una terribile bugiarda.”

“What did you call me?”  Secondo’s only answer was to let his eyes wander over you again before taking another drink.  “Answer me.”

“A terrible liar.”  His smirk returned when he saw your face turning red.  “But I suppose I could also call you a terrible thief.”

“A lot of words just to call me a liar.”

“Unfortunately the other ones will cost you.”  

Secondo stepped around the end of the bar to stand beside you.  To have him so close was…intoxicating was the only word you could think of.  Despite the danger he posed you there was no denying that he was an extremely handsome man.  His presence alone commanded attention, respect and a healthy dose of fear if you had wronged him.  But your heart wasn’t racing just because you had a pocketful of money you’d stolen from him.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to give you.”  You teasingly patted the sides of your jacket, taking a moment to flash it open so he could see the gun holstered at your hip.  “So how about we call it a night before anything else happens.”

“What could happen?”  He reached over to one of the few unbroken bottles along the wall and poured himself another drink.  “Would you continue to cheat at cards?”

“I didn’t fucking cheat.”

“Or perhaps there’s a pair of loaded dice hidden in a pocket somewhere.”  Secondo took a step closer, pinning you against the bar.  “Would you let me look, ladruncola?”

It irritated you how badly you wanted to say ‘yes’ but honestly the longer he looked at you like that the more you wanted him to.  Up close he smelled so good, he looked good too.  His clothes were immaculate, down to the green handkerchief peeking out of his vest pocket.  There wasn’t any harm in enjoying his company for the evening, right?

Especially if it got you out of trouble.

“As long as you search me in your room and not at the bar.”  You found yourself returning his pleased smile but a flash of something reflecting in the glass of the bottle behind him had your chest seizing.  One hand went for your gun while your other grabbed ahold of Secondo’s vest and you shoved him to the side with all your might.  “Get down!”

Secondo cursed as the bottle shattered and you ducked to the side as you turned with your gun raised.  A few tables from the bar one of the men that started the fight was standing with his own gun pointed your way.  Secondo’s way.  He snarled and moved to point it at you but he was too late, you let out two shots that hit him in the chest and had his body jerking backwards.  The nearest Ghoul kicked the gun out of his hand but you knew he wouldn’t be getting up from that.

“Well, well.”  You turned to look down at Secondo, relieved to see him unhurt but also smirking at you.  Even if it was infuriating.  “Grazie, ladruncola.”

“What does that mean?”  Secondo took your offered hand, rising from the floor elegantly.  He nodded towards Mist when she wandered over and she quickly turned away to go to the other Ghouls.  When you tried to pull your hand back he held it tighter, his thumb sweeping across your knuckles.  “I’m waiting.”

“Grazie means ‘thank you’.  And I’ll say it again, ladruncola.”  He brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back.  The hairs of his mustache tickled your skin softly when he repeated himself.  “Grazie.”

“You’re welcome,”  Your knuckles received kisses next followed by him turning your hand over to kiss your palm.  “But I meant the other word.”

“I’d rather tell you after I get you in my room.”  

You sighed, knowing you probably should just leave.  After saving him he probably would let you without a fuss too.  There was just something about him that had you taking a step closer to straighten the handkerchief in his vest.  You rested your hand on his chest and moved it up towards his shoulder while you leaned in close.

“As long as you promise to make it worth my while.”  He was grinning when you pulled away, his mismatched eyes twinkling in a way you didn’t think you’d be able to forget.  “Papa.”

“That’s a challenge I’m happy to accept.”

“How many weapons do you have?”

Secondo’s voice was equally incredulous and impressed.  You gave him a smirk of your own as you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back towards his bed.  He went willingly, his eyes dropping down to your hands as you made quick work of pulling the two knives he hadn’t found out of their hiding places.

“I like to be prepared.”  When he sat back on the bed you followed, placing a knee on either side of his legs and resting your hands on his shoulders.  “Surely you can appreciate that, hmm?”

“I can.”  He took your mouth in a dizzying kiss, stealing your breath while his hands began to work on the buttons of your pants.  You broke away with a gasp when he slid one hand inside, right in between your legs where you were already hot and wet.  He wrapped his other arm around your waist to pull you closer, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth all the way to your ear.  “I’ll appreciate all of you tonight.”

“I think I can promise the same.”  You trailed your hands down to the buttons of his vest, going for his shirt buttons when you were done.  His chest was covered with dark hair, patches of silver mixed in.  He nearly purred like a cat when you ran your fingers through it.  While you explored his chest his own hands began to wander but you were too distracted to stop him from slipping his fingers into the hidden pocket in your shirt.  “Wait!”

He pulled away, your loaded dice held triumphantly in his hand.  You had a sudden jolt of fear that perhaps this was all a game to him and he only brought you up here to expose why you were even at The Ministry.  Neither of you were moving, your eyes stuck on his face while he began to roll the dice between his thumb and forefinger.

“These are certainly interesting, aren’t they?”  He made a loose fist and shook them, his eyes moving to your face while they rattled around.  There wasn’t any anger there, if anything he seemed amused but you still couldn’t bring yourself to move.  With a quick movement he flicked the dice on the floor, not looking away as they landed.  “Tell me what numbers came up.”

You looked down, your legs starting to shake from where they still straddled him and your heart racing.  He placed both his hands on your waist while you leaned over as far as you dared, trying to make a show of looking even though you knew what numbers would be facing up.  He did too, the bastard.

“Lucky you, a pair of sixes.”

He smirked, tugging you towards him again abruptly.  You fell against his chest with a grunt, your mouth hovering right over his.  He flashed you a smile before responding, his words making your heart race for an entirely different reason.

“Lucky me indeed.”  His eyes were locked on yours for a few heartbeats before he glanced down at your lips.  “If you would like to leave I wouldn’t stop you.”  He moved so his lips were hovering over your ear.  “But I keep the money and the dice.”

“I don’t know, I feel like I won that money fair and square.”  His chest rumbled with laughter, his hands tightening around your waist.  “And I don’t want to leave.”

“Bene.  Because I have been wanting to kiss you ever since you insulted my whiskey.”

A retort was on the tip of your tongue, it did taste like it was watered down, but talking was impossible when he kissed you.  It was as demanding as the man itself.  You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck while one of his hands gripped your head, tilting it just so to make the angle perfect.  He tasted like whiskey and smoke, the combination intoxicating.

The need to feel more of him became too much, your hands pushing and pulling at his shirt and vest to get it off.  With a quick movement he spun you so you were on your back on his bed, staring up at him while he took them off himself.  Your eyes moved over his chest appreciatively, enjoying how the muscles of his arms moved under his skin.  It was obvious he had done more than run a casino in his life.  Those muscles were evidence of years working with guns and horses.

“See something you like?”

“Take the pants off and I’ll let you know.”  His sudden laughter had you smiling and you lifted a foot up to rest on his thigh.  “Unless you want my help?”

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you the opportunity.” 

In a flash you were kneeling before him on the bed, your fingers eagerly working on the fastenings of his pants.  His gun belt was already on the floor next to yours and your small pile of knives.  It had surprised you he didn’t want a weapon close but you also had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t need any sort of weapon to take care of you if necessary.  The thought should scare you, being here in his room should scare you, but all you could think of was how he was making your blood race through your veins.

And how the sight of his cock was making your mouth water.

Thick and long, it jutted out from the patch of hair between his legs proudly.  There was already a drop of liquid at the tip and you leaned in to lick it off, grinning when it twitched.  You locked eyes with him as you wrapped your lips around the tip, applying pressure along the bottom with your tongue.  You began to move further down but he rested his hands on the side of your head, stopping your momentum.

“Ah ah, I have a different plan.”  You pulled back, licking your lips and watching him as he smiled down at you.  “Would you let me taste you, ladruncola?”

“If you insist.”

The visual of Secondo dropping to his knees in front of you wasn’t one you would forget any time soon.  His fingers were steady as they undid your clothes, far steadier than yours were right now.  All you had the strength to do was watch, watch as he exposed more and more of you to his strange eyes.  It felt a little unfair for him to still be wearing his pants as he pulled off yours but as he looked at your core you couldn’t find the words to say anything about it.

“Bellissima.”  You had no idea what it meant but the word, the worshipful way he said it made your cheeks heat up.  He laid his hands on the inside of your thighs and gently push them wider.  As his face got closer to where you were wet for him you could see his nose twitch as he took deep breaths and you were not going to survive this.  Secondo closed his eyes and you saw his lips moving briefly before he caught your gaze.  “Nema.”

His mouth covered you in the next moment, his hands moving behind you to grip your ass and hold you still.  It was a good thing he did because while he licked and sucked at your flesh you were twitching and shaking.  The sensations were overwhelming and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to be closer or get away from it.  His nose pressed insistently against your clit while he worked his tongue around your opening, flicking and swiping it over and over.  When he suddenly pushed it inside you couldn’t help but cry out, your hand letting go of the blanket in its grip and instead gripping his hair.

“Secondo, f-fu–ah!”

The man growled against you, gripping you tighter while he ate you out.  Words kept bubbling in your throat but they just turned into whimpers.  You weren’t even sure what you were trying to say, perhaps your own words of worship to the man himself.  The rumors you had always heard about the man and his family briefly flashed in your mind.  Images of the devil and upside down crosses but they were banished as soon as he slid two thick fingers into you and moved his mouth to your clit.

If this was how they worshipped the devil you’d sign up in a second.

Your peak was coming fast, wave after wave of pleasure making spots appear in your vision.  Secondo didn’t let up, he just fucked you faster with his fingers.  Two soon becoming three all while he sucked on your clit.  Your nails kept digging harder and harder into his scalp but it didn’t seem to phase him.  If anything it only spurred him on and when he curled his fingers to rub against your inner walls you felt yourself fall over a cliff, your orgasm rushing to meet you at the bottom.

“Are you awake?”  You had no idea how long you had been laying there panting but his deep voice finally dragged you back from where you’d been drifting.  You blinked up at him, grinning when you saw how out of sorts his mustache was.  “Something amuse you?”

“I should steal from casinos more often.”  Making this man laugh was like a drug and you did your best to commit the sight and sound to memory.  It wasn’t just his mustache that was a mess, his hair was tussled and twisted from your fingers too.  You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up and smoothing it out, smiling softly when his eyes closed and he pressed into your hands.  “You’re like a cat.”

“Un gatto?”  He raised an eyebrow when you grinned.  “I’ve had worse nicknames.”

“Oh?  Like Papa?”

“Papa was a title, my title.  Long ago.”  You continued to rub along his scalp, waiting to see if he said anything else.  “I went by a different one before that, before I was called back to my family.”

“What were you doing then?”

Secondo flashed you a small smile as began to pat your legs, nodding his head towards the headboard.  You obediently scooted back, not being able to stop your eyes from falling to his cock.  It had softened a bit but still looked eager for attention.  He followed you further onto the bed, rubbing his hands up your legs until they were encouraging your thighs apart once more.

“About the same thing you’re doing now.”  When you raised an eyebrow and gave him a once over he chuckled.  “The same thing you were doing earlier.  Stealing.”

“I wasn–”

“But I was much, much better at it, ladruncola.”

“Either fuck me or shut up.”

He smirked as he looked down at you, one hand going to his cock and beginning to stroke it.  You wiggled a bit under the attention, the tension building in you again just by watching him pleasure himself.  Well, two could play at that game.  With a smirk of your own you began to touch yourself, sliding your fingers down your wet flesh and easily pressing two inside. 

His eyes quickly locked onto your fingers, watching intensely as you moved them in and out.  You added a third finger but it wasn’t even close to how it felt with his in you.  With a frustrated growl you said his name and he immediately looked back up to your face.  There was an unreadable look there, one you hadn’t seen yet that night.  For a moment you were worried he was going to move away and tell you to leave but instead he finally moved closer.  He grabbed your hand and tugged it away so he could line his cock up.

“Bone Daddy.”  Your eyes flashed up to his to see him grinning.  “That’s what they called me.”

You repeated the name, trying it out on your tongue.  While he teased your opening with the head of his cock you thought back to those rumors you had heard of the Emeritus family.  An image of Secondo with a painted face resembling a skull flashed in your mind and your gasp had little to do with how his cock was beginning to stretch you.  He could be terrifying now you could barely comprehend how terrifying he would have been looking like that.

Terrifying and beautiful.

When he was all the way inside of you the name tumbled from your lips again.  You took a moment to trace your finger along his face, trying to imagine what the design of the paint looked like.  He let you go on for a few seconds before taking your hand in his and pressing it down next to your head.  If he hadn’t of been looking at you like he was, like you were something he cared about, you would have been concerned you overstepped.  Instead he lowered his head to kiss you, nipping at your lips until you opened up for his tongue.

You kissed him back, trying to match his intensity but you were getting desperate for him to move elsewhere.  He groaned into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around his waist and wiggled your hips.  After what felt like an eternity he finally pulled back, his lips as swollen as yours were.  You felt like you were going to lose your mind if he didn’t move, if he didn’t start fucking you right now.

“Secondo, please.”

“Ah, ladruncola.  You don’t need to beg.  I’ll take care of you.”  You bit your lip as he began to pull out, the drag of his thick length so good along your walls.  He paused with the head at your entrance and you were so close to screaming at him, especially when he looked down at you smugly.  “We’ll save the begging for later, eh?”

“Whatever you say Bone Daddy.”

You expected a response, another comment to continue your banter but instead he began to press back inside of you.  It was a slow and steady thrust, not giving you a moment to adjust as he pushed in all the way.  Your hands were scrabbling at the sheets by your head and your body trembled.  When your groins touched he didn’t pause, he just started to pull out immediately.

Secondo quickly had a rhythm going, a steady drive in and out of you with his cock.  All you could do was hang on, your legs still wrapped around him.  The bed creaked beneath you both, the headboard hitting the wall when he began to thrust harder.  He dropped down so he could kiss you, mimicking the movements of his cock with his tongue.  You bit and sucked at it, one of your hands letting go of the sheet to find its way back into his hair.

Both of you were moaning, gasping as the pleasure began to build.  You had to pull away from his mouth to suck in air and you buried your face in his neck while you did so.  He kissed along your scalp while one of his big hands cradled the back of your head.  It all suddenly felt so intimate, so much more than what it had started out as that you couldn’t help but imagine more of this.  More than a night and more than a frenzied coupling.

“Look at me, ladruncola.”  His fingers tightened just enough to get you to pull away, your head falling back onto the pillow.  His thrusts were more sure now, purposeful.  He slipped a hand down your body to touch you between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it just right.  “I want to watch you.  I want to see your face.”

Fuck, it was too much but you couldn’t deny him.  You clung to him and panted as you hit your peak once again, your walls spasming around him.  He was the first to break eye contact, groaning and muttering in Italian when his cock began to kick and empty inside of you.  For a moment you imagined that you could feel it, feel his seed fill you up.  Your hips moved on their own accord then, rotating slightly to help him as he came down until he finally stopped and collapsed on top of you.

You weren’t sure if it had been minutes or hours but his weight was a comforting thing and you didn’t have any desire to move.  His softened cock had fallen out of you and while the feeling of his seed leaving was uncomfortable you hoped that he would take you again before the morning arrived.  You had no desire to leave this room.  The only thing you wanted was Secondo and you’d take as much of him as he was willing to give you.

With a grunt he finally pulled away, rolling onto his back next to you.  The cool night air drifted in through an open window across the room and distantly you could hear the tinkling keys of a piano.  You risked a glance over at him, letting your eyes linger when you saw his were closed.  The skull paint appeared in your mind again and you resolved to ask him later what it looked like.

“Would you like some watered down whiskey?”  

You snorted, nodding when he cracked open an eye to look at you.  He got up with a grunt and made his way over to a small bar against the wall.  When he headed back with two glasses in his hand you sat up and leaned back against the headboard.  The whiskey burned your tongue but it was good, much better than what you had at his bar. 

“So you save the good stuff for yourself.”

“And you.”  He tilted his head back and drained the rest of his glass, looking pleased when you did the same.  With the ease of a cat he got up and refilled them, grabbing something else before he made his way back over.  “I was hoping you would indulge me.”

“Haven’t I already been doing that?”

“Indeed, but I was hoping I could interest you in a game of poker.”  He placed his glass on a small table by the bed and you then noticed the item in his hand was a deck of cards.  They came to life in his hands as he began to shuffle them, doing moves and tricks that were impossible for your eyes to keep up with.  “Perhaps you’d like to make it interesting.”

“I’m listening.”

Secondo began to deal the cards out and you leaned over to set your glass next to his so you could gather yours up.  

“I would like an opportunity to win my money back.”  Your eyes flashed up to his in alarm but his expression hadn’t changed.  He had the same amused and almost fond look that he’d had since he had brought you into his room.  You looked back down at your cards and started to shuffle them slowly.  “But of course if I lose you stand to earn even more.  Except fairly this time.”

“I can play fair but you’re going to regret it.”

“Oh I don’t think so.  Either way I’ll still have you in my bed.  Won’t I, ladruncola?”

“You haven’t told me what that means yet.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Another thing you can win then.  I will translate that and more if you beat me.”

“Prepare to lose, Papa.”

Secondo laughed before taking a drink and then leaning in to kiss you.  The whiskey was fresh on his tongue and you sucked at it to get a better taste.  While the kiss deepened you thought about everything that had led you to this man’s bed.  About getting caught up in a gun fight and then getting caught by Secondo himself.

You thought about seeing that man raise his gun and how you hadn’t even blinked before shoving Secondo out of the way.  You thought of his presence and his words, how he had gotten you into his room even though he didn’t have to try very hard.  It was easy to imagine this man holding the attention of a congregation if those rumors were true.  You’d certainly follow him to more than just his bedroom.

When he pulled away you couldn’t help but pout and he nipped at your bottom lip before leaning back again.  He picked up his cards but his gaze was steady on you, those green and white eyes unwavering.  You began to fidget, shuffling your cards in slightly unsteady hands before you couldn’t take it any more.

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ll be losing at all tonight.”  

“What do you mean?”

He reached out for your hand, bringing it to his mouth, cards and all.  Gentle kisses were pressed over your knuckles before he let go.

“Either way I’m winning you, aren’t I?”

You had to bite your lips to stop yourself from saying something stupid.  Something stupid and sappy that you had no right to say.  But Secondo continued to watch you and his face was content, like he didn’t have a care in the world and just wanted to enjoy his time with you.  It was a feeling you shared so you stopped trying to hide it and let it show on your face.

“Me too.”

“Bene.  Well then, I’ll let you go first.”

As the game began and went on you couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun.  Obviously the sex had been amazing and you hoped there would be more of it soon but spending time with Secondo like this felt amazing too.  You were able to draw some more stories out of him and in exchange you told him a few of yours.  Both of you showed off some scars and the actions that led to them.  

You got a description of what Bone Daddy looked like, skull paint and all.  He told you about the church he and his Ghouls belonged to.  Used to belong to.  There was definitely more of a story there but you weren’t going to press it.  As a thank you for him sharing something you could tell still pained him you shared a story that still pained you.  At that point the card game was forgotten, the cards falling to the floor when you both met in a heated kiss.

Later, as you both caught your breath, your skin sticky with sweat and other things, you felt something press against your back.  With a grunt you raised yourself on an elbow and reached a hand into the sheets to find the culprit.  You came back with a handful of cards and as you leaned over Secondo to toss them with the others on the floor you noticed something that had you freeze.

There were two ace of spades.

Secondo was laughing when you turned to glare at him, easily bringing a hand up to block the cards when you threw them his way.  You wanted to make a bigger deal of it but the problem was you recognized them as your own cards.  The bastard had grabbed your deck although when he slipped it out of your coat you had no idea.  He wrapped an arm around your waist and began to tug you close, chuckling when you let him with minimal protest.

“That’s quite the deck you have.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t finish the game I think I had the hand to beat.”

“Shut.  Up.”

“Ah, ladruncola.  Don’t be upset with me.”

“Tell me what ‘ladruncola’ means.”  When he didn’t speak you turned in his arms to stare him down.  “Tell me.”

“Little thief.”  He was kissing you again before you were able to curse at him.  It was really unfair how his kisses made you lose track of yourself.  It ended far too soon but he stayed close, tilting his head down so your foreheads rested together.  “But you’re my little thief, aren’t you?”

You kissed him again in answer, opening your mouth over his while you moved to straddle his lap.  There were certainly worse things he could call you.  And there were certainly worse things that could be happening right now.  This was infinitely better than spending the night in jail and if you were honest with yourself this was one of the best nights of your life.

You’d be his ladruncola as long as he would have you.

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[mumblesplash]

ok but it was a LITTLE funny of me to draw mean gills making out underwater exactly one (1) time and then nothing ever since. like you need to understand that was my first time drawing a kiss Ever. not first time posting, first time *drawing*

#mumbling #first ever attempt at drawing two people kissing and i make one of them martyn and post it on the martyn lives here website #does it make it better or worse that he had previously reblogged my art of him and scott About to kiss? who can say #those of u who were there for The Poll might remember #that all only happened because i was drawing limlife teams as if they had been told to pose for a photo #and the ONLY thing my brain would accept as an in character response for them was #‘obviously they would start making out in front of the camera as a bit’ #and only at the last moment did i realize the only thing that would be even more in character #would be to act like they were *about* to kiss without actually doing it #you know to be little shits. #but then you know. i was given a Decent Amount of Money and i was like weelllll

[tossawary]

At the end of "Fullmetal Alchemist", Ed Elric quits the military, has given up his ability to "play god", and is (as he has been since he burned his fucking house down as a tweenager) homeless, disabled, and crashing at the Rockbell place to help his very sick brother recover.

And it's easy and funny to imagine Edward Elric essentially becoming the house husband of successful and innovative automail mechanic Winry Rockbell (and later a stay-at-home dad). Small family businesses are pretty much always a mess of needing an extra hand just to answer phones and the mail, to schedule appointments, to deliver and pick up parts, to organize stock, to "just hold this for a second for me", and so on. Pinako is not getting any younger and could use someone to cook dinner and fix the roof while she rests her back!!! Winry is busy!!!

There is also always a lot to do in a rural community, so I'm sure that Ed would find another hobby in the absence of alchemy and could turn it into a gig if necessary, if he really doesn't like automail. He has a lot of skills that he could potentially turn towards an income. I've also generally assumed that Ed made a pretty decent amount of money as a State Alchemist and still has some generous savings on that front.

But I was also thinking that it would be kind of funny if being a State Alchemist came with incredible retirement benefits. Like, the military wants to lure people in with wealth and power and resources - and then make alchemists desperate enough to keep these things that they become walking weapons of war, commit horrible crimes against humanity in the name of "research", and/or resort to human transmutation and become viable sacrifices. Ed never had to worry about getting kicked out (and presumably losing his benefits) because he was a perfect human sacrifice from the get-go (although he didn't know this). I'm guessing a lot of State Alchemists were never actually able to retire between dying in wars, failing out of the program (the brass finding excuses to save money! Bosses are always cheap!), getting arrested for speaking out or actually getting caught publicly doing bad shit, and being murdered for their crimes against humanity.

But, in theory, maybe the State Alchemist retirement benefits were absolutely incredible if you could somehow survive long enough or get permission for an early, "honorable" retirement, because King Bradley (who let's say set up this financial bait) somewhat reasonably assumed that Father would completely destroy the country before he'd ever have to pay out a pension. Which means that Ed could be out of the military for years and somehow still costing Roy Mustang a lot of money.

#tossawary fma #edward elric #king bradley #winry rockbell #spoilers #character death #violence

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

#wanda maximoff x you #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x you #piano

[leclercsbunny]

maybe if you loved me ♡ c. sainz

part six ♡ masterlist

f1chai sainz and ricciardo allegedly got into a scuffle, sky news report. the two have come up on recent news due to their involvement with yn, as both drivers have been closely linked with the spanish socialite. the f1 management is reportedly investigating this matter, and are adamant to deal out swift and just penalties for both drivers involved. neither teams have expressed their side regarding this matter.

username i would pay good money to see them fist fight

username and nobody caught it on their camera ?? LAMEEEE

username see i would have screamed world star‼️

username hmmm arguing who's the daddy

username will forever be astounded of yn, bagging these men in the same breath

username yikes

username penalty for ocon!!

username don't let these men back on track fia (10392)

username so... private school fighting? pointing at eachother and then screaming?! ����🤔🤔

username "sainz and ricciardo had to be separated by several staff in a fit of blind rage."

username "the australian driver emerged with an upset expression, a bruising prominent on his jaw and a crimson eyebrow. the spaniard later on followed suit, an expression of annoyance evident, armed with a busted lip and a limp to his gait."

username so a fight FIGHT. they were scrapping to scrap 😳😳

username oh i know they were just swinging wildly

username ten bucks daniel would have laid carlos on his ass

username disagree. have you seen carlos's hands? he's punching to knock some sense into daniel

username yeah but daniel has the force of justice behind his blows

username not if he's the father. screwing your mate's ex girl while they're on the rocks?

username what do you mean on the rocks?? he cheated on her publicly. then they broke up. then partied like his life depended on it? 🙄🤨

f1chai daniel ricciardo adds fuel to the fire by posting a shady instagram story amid the controversy surrounding him today. several news outlet reports that the australian pilot have been fined a sum of 5,000 euros for recklessly behaving and have been reprimanded alongside sainz. to waive the penalty, the pair were urged to make ammends, and publicly acknowledge their wrongs for disrupting the peaceful atmosphere present in f1. his response is as follows; "i won't apologize."

username ATEEEEEEEEE

username stop playing with him 😳😳😳

username yeah that will tell them🤦🏻‍♀️😂

username they keep letting these men buy their way into being a decent human being... they'll cash out everytime !!

username i love when men are shady

username DANIEL WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

username what if they used chairs ?? would that be atleast 10k ??

username that's spare change for these men 😭😭😭 who assigned these amount?

username it's a minor misdemeanor, it's already blown out of proportition🤭

username yeah but that's like what?? one tyre and a steering wheel ?? 😭😭😭

username so close !! steering wheels could go up to six figures 😂😂

username i stand corrected

username daniel: ... so can i pay in advance to throw hands? 🤔😂

f1chai both sainz and ricciardo have declined to elaborate regarding their public spat, and have expressed very little about their issue. no direct apologies were addressed to eachother nor was there any indication they regretted they came to blows. new reports claim that the reason of them being tight-lipped had everything to do with the paternity of yn's alleged baby, and although at odds with eachother, both sainz and ricciardo are adamant on maintaining her privacy at this delicate moment.

username enemies 4 life

username awww yn's boys🥲🥲

username the boys you speak of would push eachother on the track if given the opportunity🥰

username yeah boys‼️

username daniel probably talked maaaaad smack

username only reasonable explanation

username not necessarily, i would have been throwing hands regardless. like wym you've been comforting MY girl?!

username they broke up though

username on a break** this has been yn and carlos' dance since forever

username man shut up. yn deserves better than a man who has a very fickle sense of loyalty.

username he has some serious issues

username ALLEGEDLY okay ALLEGEDLY daniel took a swipe at matteo's parentage and said something along the lines of "you're gonna fuck up another kid's childhood just because you can't keep it in your pants?" non verbatim 😳😳

username YOOOOOOO

username that's WILD to even comprehend, imagine hearing it directly.

username ngl i would have been throwing hands with daniel aswell

username nicki type of line

username who's matteo's mom anyways 😭😭

username i know we're all mad at him but look at him 😩

username yn this isn't you‼️

username look away we can do this!!

#f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 social media au #formula 1

[dilemmaontwolegs]

What do you think about a wolff reader being engaged to Charles. And a "Who did this to you" trope, so.etjing bad happened to the reader, or she was mugged or harrased a hurt. We also get protective Charles, Toto and Lewis

All That Matters || CL 16

Warnings: 18+ only, violence, blood, reader injuries, medical procedures WC: 5.7k

F1 Masterlist

The line to the ladies room was longer than you expected when you told your step-mother that you would catch up. Susie had given you a quick wave, not wanting to miss out on the qualifying races, and departed without you. While you waited, you had pulled out your phone and busied yourself with a few replies of well-wishes from friends before going on Instagram and liking all the photos of Charles that you had missed earlier. 

One particular photo brought a smile to your face as you knew exactly who he was looking at off camera. You were wearing Mercedes merch for quali and planning to wear Ferrari for race day, so his team had avoided taking photos of the two of you until tomorrow. That didn’t mean your own camera roll wasn’t bursting with pictures of the contrasting black and red team colours. You were so consumed in the pictures of your fiancé that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. 

A shoulder bumped into you and your phone clattered to the ground before a heel quickly stomped on it, shattering the screen. What you had thought was an accident suddenly turned into an attack and the other women waiting in line screamed at the man and pushed each other away to reach the door. 

You couldn’t comprehend what was happening as you were thrown to the ground, pain lacerating your stomach from the kick you received as you went down. You tried to crawl away but a boot planted down on your back pinning you in place as you screamed for help despite the pain it caused. 

You reached out, your fingers clawing the dirty floor as you tried to grab your phone before the man stood on your wrist. His joyous laugh sent a wave of nausea through you and he bent down to grab your hand that you fisted tightly.

“No, no, please don’t,” you begged as he pried your fingers open. “I’ll give you anything, I have money, please.”

You screamed as your engagement ring was torn from your finger and you raked his arms with your nails trying to get it back before he closed his fist and sent stars exploding across your vision. Blood smeared across the linoleum floor as you tried to drag yourself after him, the pain of the door closing on your fingers no longer registering in your senseless state. No amount of money could replace what the ring meant to you and you couldn’t just let it go. You were a Wolff, and Wolff’s never give up - your father had instilled the value into you since you were a child.

Pulling yourself up the door, you gasped at the pain in your ribs and clutched the aching bones as you chased after the stranger running through the paddock. The determination was there in your heart and your mind, but it was your body that was failing you as your vision faded and the distance grew. The man was going to get away with taking your prized possession and there was nothing you could do as you crumpled to the concrete and let the darkness take you.

Toto gave his wife a distracted wave as he listened to the engineers discussing the weather with his drivers and he leaned back looking for you behind her. 

“She’s on her way,” Susie said, knowing her husband well as she reached him and massaged his tense shoulders. 

The qualifying round soon ended and Toto laid his headset down with a smile at the decent result. “Where is she?” he asked when he looked around the garage and noticed you still hadn’t arrived.

“She probably stopped in to see Charles, he could do with some cheering up.”

Toto shook his head feeling sorry for the man who would soon be his son-in-law before standing up and stretching his legs while Lewis and George finished the warm down lap and returned to the garage. “Maybe he’ll finally be ready to leave them if they keep ignoring his wise opinion.”

“Hello Toto, Susie,” Charles greeted politely as he walked through the garage, his bright red racing suit standing out among the black and white uniforms. He stopped to shake Toto’s hand and kiss Susie’s cheeks before looking around. “Have you seen Y/N? She’s not answering her phone.”

“I thought she was with you,” your father frowned, pulling his phone out to call you. “Voicemail. Hi sweetheart, give me a call when you get this.”

“Toto, it’s the stewards,” his engineer interrupted with a frown as he held Toto’s headset up for him.

“What do they want?” he growled as he took them and pulled them over his ears. 

“I don’t know, they only mentioned your daughter.”

Charles grabbed the spare headset that Susie usually wore and caught the end of the news. His stomach dropped and his heart beat so loud he could only hear pieces of information. Assault. Unconscious. Hospital. Hurry. He couldn’t stop hearing the words as he tore the headset off and saw the horror and fear reflected in Toto’s eyes. While Toto’s fear stemmed from the love of a father, Charles was that of a soulmate, the one person above all else in the world who he entrusted his heart to. 

“Go,” Toto ordered, knowing Charles was the faster man with youth on his side. “Run!”

Charles broke into a sprint, weaving through the crowds as they left. Stunned fans watched the man who usually stopped to sign autographs and take photos push his way to the exit with tears in his eyes. 

He didn’t stop, not when his breath was raspy or his legs turned weak. He pushed on, fear driving him to run as fast as he could through the city he called home. 

Every slap of his shoes on the pavement jolted through his body and he didn’t even have to think about the route to the hospital as his feet carried him along the familiar streets. He was in a world of his own, trapped in his mind thinking through his afternoon. 

He had sat in his car while it was wheeled into the garage, taking a few minutes to calm himself down after the shit show he had endured. He had bit his tongue and listened to the excuses his engineer waffled on with, preparing his own argument in silence in the meeting room. He wondered if those precious moments of waiting had cost him everything. If only he had got out of the car, if only he had been more assertive, he could’ve found you first.

“Monsieur Leclerc!” a nurse called out the moment he stepped foot in the hospital. For once he was glad almost everyone in the city knew who he was as he was quickly ushered into the emergency room where he heard your soft whimper. 

Harsh lights welcome you back to the land of consciousness and you tried to shade your eyes but the movement caused a bolt of pain to streak up your arm. Your head spun with stars dotting your periphery as you rolled your head to the side weakly to see your wrist hanging limply, the angle making your stomach turn as a whimper passed your lips.

“Mon amour.”

The voice of an angel, that’s what you heard before the privacy curtain was brushed aside and Charles froze as he saw the state of you. You had no idea how bad you looked, everywhere ached, you could taste blood in your mouth and the same red liquid seeped through the gauze that wrapped your hand that was naked of the engagement ring that had split your skin as it was stolen. 

The memory brought tears to your eyes and your lips trembled with a sob that spurred him into action, crossing the room and gingerly taking your right hand. He pressed his lips to your knuckles and the tears he had been holding back broke away, streaking their way down his cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” Anguish tortured his voice, emotion choking his throat as he dropped his head and clutched your hand to his lips like a prayer. “They won’t get away with this, I swear.”

You nodded but the pounding in your head was only exacerbated and you fell back to the pillow with a groan as the nurse finally returned with a team of doctors. You understood why everything hurt as they clipped x-rays to the lightboard and even from the bed you could see bones snapped like twigs. Charles' hand clamped over his mouth with a choked sound and he looked at your stomach as if he could see the broken ribs hidden beneath the bruised skin. 

You were grateful the nurse was there, promising to make you feel better with pain relief, but she took your hand from Charles’ and you missed the warmth of his touch as she prepared the site for an IV. A cool rush ran up your arm as she flushed the line before the dose of morphine left you feeling weightless and you could finally relax as the pain retreated. 

“He stole my ring,” you slurred like you did after too many drinks. “I tried to stop him but he was too strong. I really did, Charles, you have to believe me.”

“I know you did, mon amour, and I’ll get you another one,” he promised as he gently wiped your tears away. “All that matters is you. You are my everything and I love you with or without that ring.”

You smiled as he cupped your face tenderly and gave you the softest of kisses before you whispered against his lips, “I love you too.”

The doctors circled your bed as Charles took a seat beside your head, his fingers softly brushing your cheek as they spoke, but their jargon went in one ear and out the other as you stared at your fiancé. The fluorescent light caught the rarely seen dark red undertones in his hair and the shadows made his jaw even more defined. He really was your angel and when he looked back at you, you got lost in his beautiful eyes.

“Please, do whatever you need to,” he said, but you couldn’t remember what it was about.

You felt like you did when you went scuba diving with Charles in St Tropez, like you were underwater and your body was growing heavier with each passing second as the pressure squeezed your head. The more you tried to focus, the worse you felt and you barely heard Charles call out to the doctors as he saw your eyes starting to close and your jaw falling slack as you slipped out of consciousness again. 

–

Charles hadn’t moved from where he had been told to wait. His elbows had left dents in his knees where he sat forward, ready to spring to his feet at the first sign of news coming from the surgical rooms. The hot sweat from running across the city had long turned cold but he didn’t feel the damp chill from his fireproofs he still wore, all he could feel was the suffocating hopelessness of waiting.

“Where is my daughter?”

Charles jumped at your father’s voice breaking the oppressive silence and he jogged to the administration area at the end of the hall just as the receptionist pointed him to the waiting room. There was nothing Charles could say to ease the suffering in Toto’s eyes as they walked towards each other so the older man just wrapped his arms around him and held him for a moment. 

“Thank you,” Toto said as he pulled back and squeezed Charles' shoulders. “We got here as fast as we could but with the roads closed…any update?”

Charles shook his head. “Not since she went in.”

Charles had called Toto in a panic after you had passed out and the doctors noticed the trickle of blood running down the diamond earrings he had given you for your anniversary. The nurse had escorted him from the room and he had been forced to watch as you were wheeled away from him. He had feared he would never see your smile or hear you tell him you loved him ever again. 

He still feared that.

“They took her for a CT scan before surgery but that’s all they said.” Charles brushed a hand through his hair as more voices filled the hall and he saw Susie arriving with Jack, Lewis, Enzo and Arthur behind her. “Please tell me they found the bastard who did this.”

Toto’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “Not yet, but there’s a million CCTV cameras - it’s only a matter of time. We’ll get him, son.”

Jack had run along the corridor after seeing his dad and Toto scooped the boy up and closed his eyes as he held him close. Leaving the father and son, Charles met his brothers and accepted the hugs they offered, following Toto’s lead and holding them tighter after being reminded how precious and uncertain each moment was. 

“I brought you some clothes,” Enzo said as opened the bag slung over his back. “Thought you might want to look half decent for her when she wakes up.”

Charles nodded his gratitude and took the bag to the bathroom, locking the door behind him before taking a moment to centre himself like he did at the end of a bad race; inhale, hold, exhale. 

It was as if his body recognised that he wasn’t alone, that his brothers were there when he needed them most and he didn’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. He didn’t even realise tears were freely falling down his cheeks until he saw his reflection in the mirror, eyes red and hair a mess. He was falling apart and he needed you to put him back together.

One minute. Sixty seconds. That was all he allowed himself to cry before he turned the tap to cold and washed away the sweat and tears. Dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt with a clean face, he returned to the waiting room and found Joris had also arrived. 

“I don’t understand how this happened, man,” Lewis sighed, his tattooed hand cupping his chin as he stared at a poster on the wall while deep in thought. “It was inside the paddock. She should have been safe. Where was the security? Was it random or did someone target her?”

No one had the answers but they hoped time would tell.

The hours ticked away and Jack eventually fell asleep on Toto’s lap. Other groups of families came and went, Charles’ hopes being dashed each time the doors opened only to find the news wasn’t for them. 

“Maman’s on her way,” Arthur whispered, though there wasn’t a sign to keep quiet, it only seemed appropriate. “Is there anything you need?” Charles looked at his brother, giving him a glimpse into his broken soul that needed good news. “Besides that.”

“Maybe coffee and food?” 

Arthur nodded and went to reply but the doors suddenly opened and there was no other group in the waiting room. 

Jack startled awake as Toto rose to his feet, passing the boy over to Susie before clapping Charles back and leading him forward to meet the doctor half way. 

“Family of Miss Wolff?”

Toto nodded and cleared his throat after hours of tortured silence. “How is she?”

“She’s not out of the woods but she’s strong. The next 24 hours will be critical in her recovery,” the doctor said as everyone gathered around. “We repaired her broken wrist with pins and screws but a broken rib punctured her lung causing it to collapse so she has a chest drain that will remain in place for the next few days. It would appear the same blunt force trauma that broke her ribs also ruptured her spleen so we removed it to stop any further internal bleeding.”

Enzo curled his arm around Charles to stabilise him as he swayed on his feet with the news. But still the doctor wasn’t finished and his already sombre mood turned morose.

“What we are most concerned about is the bleed in her brain and the swelling. We released the pressure but will monitor her closely in the ICU. Miss Wolff is on her way to the ward now so you can see her shortly.” 

“Thank you,” Charles managed to choke out but it was a miracle the nausea he felt didn’t spill all over the doctors shoes. “You have our gratitude.”

He pursed his lips together and nodded with a sad smile. “I‘ll come by in a few hours to check up on her, just head up to the ICU when you’re ready.”

Visiting hours were wrapping up as the group took the elevator to the next floor in silence, they were all consumed by their own thoughts. Their hearts fluttered with hope while prudence choked it back and no one dared to say a word as they entered the quiet ward. Even Jack, the chatterbox, didn’t make a peep as they entered your room.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Toto broke the silence as he fell into the seat beside you and his hand trembled when he couldn’t immediately find a way to hold you. 

Charles could clearly remember the shock of seeing you but this was somehow both better and worse. Though you had been cleaned up and were no longer in blood stained clothes that had been cut away from your body, now thick bandages covered your head and you were littered with wires and tubes connected to beeping machines. 

“Papa’s here,” Toto murmured as he settled his hand on your elbow to miss the cast below and the blood pressure cuff above. 

Charles swallowed down the lump in his throat and took Jack’s hand, leading him quietly out of the room as Susie placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder that shook with silent sobs. He could feel the looks of pity he received as he leaned against the corridor wall and slipped down to the floor with an exhausted sigh.

“She’s gonna pull through, mate,” Lewis said as he took a seat beside him. “She’s a Wolff and they are fighters.”

“For now,” Charles corrected. “She’s only a Wolff for now.”

Lewis huffed a short laugh. “Leclerc’s are pretty good fighters too, I guess. She won’t lose that when she loses the name.”

The room was silent except for the reassuring beeps of the monitors showing your steady heartbeat. 

Everyone had reluctantly left throughout the evening until only Charles and Toto remained. Neither man was willing to close their eyes for a moment, no matter how exhausted they were. The coffee Pascale had brought initially helped but now it was a matter of surviving on the packets of instant coffee and long-life milk from the refreshment station down the hall.

Toto cleared his hoarse throat and broke the silence as he stared at your face that still held the same resemblance to that baby faced girl he had raised and was thinking of. “When she was five, there was this boy at school who tried to take her doll. He was a few years older, and at least a foot taller, but she was so determined to stop him that the toy broke in half. She was so mad, she threw it at his head and the Headmaster called me because she refused to apologise to the boy.”

“What happened?” Charles asked curiously as he heard the story for the first time.

“I took her out for a hot chocolate, bought her a new doll and told her how proud I was. We don’t let people bully us, and we don’t give up on what matters.” Toto’s eyes were full of guilt as he looked at the man he already considered to be a part of his family. “What if this is my fault?”

Your father hung his head in shame as he remembered the information the police had managed to gather from the witnesses. They had all said the same thing; you had fought back and refused to give him your engagement ring.

“He was younger than me, and shorter,” you rasped as you blinked your dry eyes and let them adjust to the dimly lit room.

“Y/N,” Charles breathed a sigh of relief that ended in a sob and you squeezed his hand that held yours before it slipped away to hit the call button.

“He always gets the story wrong.” You smiled at Charles as he placed his hand back in yours before seeing your father’s red eyes and well up with tears. “It’s not your fault, papa.”

Toto nodded but you could see it was only for your benefit. “I’m just glad you’re awake, meine liebe Tochter."

“It must be bad,” you huffed a laugh but it froze as your ribs burned at the sudden expansion. “You haven’t called me that since I was a child.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you get, you’ll always be my little girl. How are you feeling?”

“Got a killer headache,” you admitted as you tried to reach for it but Charles tightened his hold and shook his head.

“Careful, mon amour, you’ve been through so much. They had to…” he choked on his words and you wondered what had happened before you woke but the doors opened and the doctors arrived.

You had been moved out of ICU after the doctors were happy with the results of the CT scan and the chest drain was removed, but it would be a few more days before you were able to return home. In the meantime, they had found you a quiet room that overlooked the city and you could see all the way to the Nouvelle Chicane where labourers were working hard to dismantle the track and grandstands so Monte-Carlo could return to normality.

Normality. No one knew what that would mean for you. 

Though you could remember your anniversary and Charles' phone number by heart, you would suddenly find yourself struggling to recall the name for what colour the sky was. It was frustrating to know exactly what you meant but you just couldn’t seem to articulate it. 

When it wasn’t your brain causing you grief, it was any movement from the neck down. The pain relief could only do so much without leaving you in a drug haze and you would rather be in pain and lucid when Charles returned. 

“Good news, I get to break you out of here for an hour,” he said as he arrived in a fresh pair of clothes, pushing a wheelchair to the side of your bed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes drifted back to the window you had spent three days staring out of. “It’s almost gone.”

“What?” He gingerly took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried to see what you saw. “The track?”

“You could’ve won, Charles. You should’ve won.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But if I had to choose between you and a race, I will always pick you.” He leaned back and draped his arm over the back of your pillow, careful not to touch the stitches on your head. “I could be content never racing again as long as I have you by my side. You are all that matters to me. That’s why I can’t wait to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Even if I can’t even remember how to sign my name?”

“Then we’ll make a new one, it is going to be changing soon anyway. Y/N Leclerc,” he mused as he pulled a marker pen out of his pocket that he always carried around. “We can start practising after you’ve had some fresh air.”

Your teeth clenched as you swallowed the pained groan down but it quickly passed once you were settled into the wheelchair. “I’m sorry,” he apologised as he saw your brows pinched and he eased his arms out after carrying you to the chair.

“I’m okay, babe,” you reassured him as he gently pushed you down the hall to the elevator. “It doesn’t hurt as much today.”

It was a lie but you weren’t going to tell him that you had been declining the pain relief offered every few hours.

“Where are we going? Do you have a getaway car ready?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled as the elevator doors closed and he bent down to give you a quick kiss. “I thought you might be sick of hospital food.”

If Charles noticed your reservations he didn’t mention it, filling the silence along the corridors with updates and gossip for you instead. It was amazing that he found the time to catch up on news when he spent almost every minute by your side, only leaving to get fresh clothes and even then he tried to wait until you had another visitor so you were never alone.

He had tried to get you to talk about the nightmares that haunted your sleep but you weren’t ready to face that demon yet. The sleepless nights didn’t just affect you and you could see the dark circles around Charles’ eyes from staying up with you, holding your hand and wiping away the tears that regularly found their way down your cheeks.

“I love you.”

He paused the story he had been recalling and put the brake on the wheelchair as he pointed it to a bench at the front of the busy hospital. Sitting down in front of you, he took your hand. “I love you too.”

“I want you to go home.”

“Just a few more days and we’ll go home,” he said with a sigh, looking down the road as if he could see your apartment on the waterfront. “I know it’s hard, but please be patient a little longer, mon amour.”

You squeezed his hand and your eyes closed as flashes of light danced across your vision, the migraines a recurrence thanks to the concussion. “No, I want you to go home. Go rest and sleep in a proper bed, see your friends, your team. I don’t want you missing out on anymore because of me.”

“You stubborn woman, beautiful, stubborn woman.” Charles leaned closer and tucked some of your hair behind your ear, your hair that was missing a patch at the back where it had been shaved for surgery. “What is it going to take for you to get it? I’m not missing out on anything. I’m right where I am meant to be, with you.”

You opened your eyes to see the sincerity on his face and your argument faded away with his kiss.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn,” you murmured against his lips. “I guess you could say I have a thick skull.”

“Ma chérie,” he groaned and pulled back to laugh softly. “That’s not funny.”

“I beg to diff-” your words froze as the doors up ahead opened and panic contracted your chest.

“Y/N?” Charles asked, his hand cupping your cheek as your lips parted with rapid breaths before he followed your fixed gaze. “What is it?”

Charles saw you staring at a newcomer in reception. He was asking to see a doctor as he held his arm that was streaked with angry red and weeping cuts that were clearly infected and in need of antibiotics.

Charles’ head snapped back to you and saw the fear written on your face along with the cold sweat that broke on your forehead. You were terrified of the stranger, terrified he would recognise you like you had recognised him.

The man glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at your hands. It was as if you could still feel the skin that you had raked your nails down and feel the blood that had coated them.

“Charles,” you stammered as your hands began to tremble. “It’s him. He did this to me.”

Charles was on his feet in an instant and crossing the room, his shoulders back so he stood at his full height when he faced the person who assaulted you. Your sweet, gentle fiancé was gone and the man who stood in his place was one you didn’t recognise. There was no warmth in those green eyes, no smile on those lips. You had seen him furious after races ended badly but nothing came close to the rage that simmered close to the surface. 

“You,” Charles growled as he stepped toe to toe with the man who blanched back in realisation. “Don’t even think about it.”

Your fingers dug into the vinyl padding along the armrest as you watched the man turn and try to flee, but Charles was faster. You were too stunned to do or say anything when the receptionist screamed for security and Charles tackled the man around the waist, taking him to the floor with a heavy thud.

Sanity returned as quick as it left when Charles’ fist connected with the man’s jaw and security burst into the building. “Shit, Charles!” you screamed as thick arms curled under him and dragged him away. 

“I promise you,” Charles growled angrily, his eyes wild as they narrowed on the man cradling his jaw. “You’re gonna pay for what you did.”

He shook the arms off him and brushed a hand through his hair before pointing to the man. “Will someone call the fucking police? This bastard assaulted my wife!”

You should have been focused on what was unfolding but your heart fluttered at the words that rolled so naturally off his tongue and a small smile tipped your lips up. 

Your attack had been widely publicised by the major news outlets, and there were plenty of grainy CCTV images of his face, so when Charles pointed his finger at the man responsible the security guards quickly turned their attention to him.

“Charles,” you called softly, his hair bouncing as he rushed back to your side. “Are you alright?”

You took his hand, gently unfurling his trembling fist as you saw the reddening skin across his knuckles. He slipped his hand out of your grasp and shook it out with a wince.

“Hurt more than I thought it would,” he admitted as he stared at the hand that had struck violence before dropping to the bench seat and hanging his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to scare you, mon amour.”

“You didn’t scare me, Charles. You could never scare me,” you assured him as you lifted his head so you could see the eyes you had fallen in love with. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he admitted. “Something just flipped and I was so angry I couldn’t control it.”

You saw his eyes start to drift away but you brought him back with a soft kiss. “You called me your wife.”

“I did, didn’t I?” His eyes widened before crinkling with a smile. “You’re already my everything, mi alma, ma cœur, mia amata. Marry me.”

“That’s the plan.”

“No, now, as soon as we can. Marry me, please.”

The thought of waiting six months suddenly felt like a lifetime and you were already nodding your head, the doors crashing open as police swarmed the reception. “Okay, yes, of course,” you said with a beaming smile as cuffs were slapped on the strangers wrists.

“Yeah?” Charles seemed shocked you actually agreed but when your smile widened and you nodded he blessed you with a smile you hadn’t seen since you saw him before the qualifiers, the one that defined his dimples. “I’ll call your father now. I, ah, should probably update him about that too.”

You looked over to see the man receiving some treatment and heard the police officer remind the doctor to keep it to ‘just the basics’ so he could be transported to the station.

You nodded numbly, in a state of shock, as he pulled his phone out. The last ten minutes had been a roller coaster of emotions and you ran a hand down your face to find your cheeks wet once more. This time they were tears of joy and relief.

“I’m getting married,” you whispered to yourself before a surprise giggle bubbled in your chest. Despite the terror and pain you had survived, your dreams were about to come true and if anyone could manage to organise last minute nuptials in Monte-Carlo it was Charles. The man had connections everywhere.

“Your father is on his way,” Charles said as he returned, tapping his phone against his thigh in his nervous habit. “I hope that bastard is taken away before he gets here or it might be Toto that ends up behind bars.”

“He’s all bark, no bite. I think he’s safe.”

“Don’t underestimate what a father would do for his child,” Charles said softly. “If we had children I know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

You swallowed at the sincerity in his voice and placed your hand on his. “You’ll make a great father, Charles.”

He leaned forward and captured your lips in a searing kiss before resting his forehead on yours. “But first I have to be a great husband, and to do that I have some favours to call in.”

“Who?”

Charles just smiled but you saw the name on the screen before he hit the call button. Prince Albert of Monaco.

“You’re hoping to use your favour with the Prince on this!”

“I can’t think of a better use,” he said with a wink as the line trilled. “All that matters is by the end of the day you are mine and I am yours in every sense. Ah, hi, hello, it’s Charles Leclerc, I was hoping to speak with the Prince…”

You watched Charles pace as he spoke, his free hand fidgeting with his rings and his hair until it dropped to his side and his jaw fell slack. You feared the Prince wasn’t going to be able to help with fast tracking the legal side of the marriage but then Charles fist punched the air and his laugh reached you. “Thank you, your highness, thank you.”

He ended the call and smiled brighter than the times he had stood on the centre podium. “We’re getting married!”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

[khristie16]

The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chaper 1 It is your first day settling in Formula 1 world. You find out there is something off with Charles, but you ignore it. At least you convince yourself to.

disclaimer: yn with "I" pov format x slowburn

Lights were casting a shadow enveloping me as I headed toward Charles's room. My mind went on full speed and palms getting wet, feet suffering from the fancy wearing for this job. High heels clapping was the only thing disturbing this silence. This whole job experience was pestering but there was no choice but moving out from my family.

Butterflies in stomach were at its peak as I started to acknowledge this is our first meeting. Did I feel like a stalker? Standing in front of his door in a hotel he was accommodated? Definitely. But it is better to meet up here then outside with sound screeching and flashing cameras.

Giving myself one big inhale to reach for the door knob, the wooden squeak made me fall few steps behind and muscles stopped moving as Charles was leaving the apartment. Wearing Ray Ban sunglasses does a lot to one's sight evidentially. His presence was getting far away from mine as he was heading towards the elevator.

"Wait!"

The growing distance between us has stopped. With a serious tone and hands pointing at me, "I'll call the security''

My throat got tight and words couldn't pass through. His words were flowing in and out of me as waves of the ocean in the night, making me restless. Time flew fast and I was met once again with his back showing a gray hoodie.

"I'm your new assistant!"

Hope filled my veins. Mind was playing with the possibility of being thrown out displayed as a fan girl. NOT. His turn was so abrupt I was shocked he didn't crack his neck. Sweet, yet deep voice crashed my eardrums making me feel searing.

"YN?"

I nodded and I finally let my lungs chill. Damn, this started easy.

Sides of his lips crooked making me feel not welcomed but I could finally take a breath. The distance got shorter while I remained situated on one position.

"Sorry for that. I'm Charles."

Chuckle left my mouth as I found the introduction nonessential. Hands connected with him leaving warm tickles on my skin and his cologne messing my senses. God, he smelled good.

“I’m sorry, I must have looked like a stalker,” his nod made me feel even worse.

All I could inhale was airy scent torturing me, enlarging the lift going down with no noise to muddle the silence. A sway of sadness ran through my body given the fact I have to do this job. Slow mornings moving my body to the sound of inner peace and calmness enveloping my heart, the safeness growing inside of me as if it would tear me apart if given the chance to expand. Creative days with no rush and restrictions in nature. Looking to the sunlight and warming my skin touching its sleeves. I never in my heart wanted to be this 'empowered independent' woman the society has made.

I lost all the hope when opening the door of SUV myself. Has the chivalry really gone dead? Thoughts were torn off from the noise, exciting screams from Ferrari fans hovering over the car.

"Have you previously done such a job?" His gaze locked onto mine; I tilted my head in an attempt to discern the eye color, but no clear answer emerged. I chose to let the moment slide.

"No experience with the celebrity lifestyle." He nodded reassuringly, expressing confidence that I would adapt well.

The quietude felt like a snare. Knowing he is not the chatty one, I clenched my teeth. Fingers touched the screen on iPad scrolling through files kept for assisting Charles's personal life.

''I've made some changes and saved a decent amount of money''

I skimmed through the palette on the page styling and got myself wondering which of these colors match his.

''Oh, wow,'' resonated through the air. ''I trust your intellect. You are paid for it after all''

The spoken words seared into my ears, yet I acknowledged him for stating the obvious. Almost as if summoned, my mind spilled forth the reasons why I had accepted this job. The whole concept of my future given by my family's idea was the reason. Working for Charles was better than staying home.

My fingers danced across the screen, orchestrating household tasks in his absence, as a cool breeze caressed my skin. I found solace in the fact that within the SUV, I could relish the refreshing chill, outside it was a walk through hell. Speaking of, it felt as though someone had touched me with a hot frying pan against my bare skin. I turned my gaze to the left, only to find his eyes expressing fondness toward my exposed thigh. The fleeting moment of admiration came to an abrupt end as our eyes locked, and I could swear I detected a spark of intensity in his gaze. Its reason unknown to me. The back of my thigh touched the seat underneath as feet touched the floor again.

''We're almost there'' having Ray Ban again.

Leaving the car as the last one, setting feet in the hell delivered a numb pain. Mix of frustration and calling for help left my lips making Charles shot a glance in my direction as I sat there.

"What's the matter?" The genuine tone in his voice caused my shoulders to slump.

''These heels are killing me,'' skimming the pair of Jimmy Choo heels made my lips curl.

I liked to dress. Wear pretty things. But per usual, pretty things cost, coming from a humble background, the prospect of high heels and I seemed like an incompatible pair, especially in the beginning.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared ahead.

"I value my employees; choose something more comfortable next time," he continued through clenched teeth.

''I am supposed to look presentable,'' I retorted.

''You can look presentable while being comfortable,'' with his last words, he turned away, revealing his back—a connection I, regrettably, began to foster too much.

Engaging in Formula 1 is demanding on both the psyche and the body of the driver. This is why considerable effort is dedicated to maintaining optimal physical fitness, the amount of work they put into it is out of this world and one wouldn’t even tell. This misunderstanding often stems from the assumption that individuals who engage in rigorous physical training automatically develop bulky muscles. However, in Formula 1, many drivers maintain a lean physique with a minimal percentage of body fat.

This is one of the reasons I accepted this job—a relatively minor one, but my admiration for these drivers played a part in my decision. even though they don't save lives of others while risking their lives like firefighters do, they still risk a lot.

Sound of chaos lingered around me watching Charles race on the Singapore circuit, my vision blurred as I found myself yearning for something more profound to heighten the level of respect for this man, changing the weight from one foot to another.

Mere fame is insufficient for me to offer respect. A person, regardless of their status, should demonstrate general respect towards women and interact with them using good manners. I ran away from my family because of this and I block any misconceptions this society made. As of now, I have a feeling that something might be off with Charles.

“You’re the new assistant?” I titled my chin up to see a man looking at me. His hair seemed to absorb no light at all. Forming theories about the man—his inclination toward comfortable attire and a penchant for photography—I nodded in acknowledgment and shifted my focus back to the swift cars, resembling nothing more than fleeting smudges.

“I’m Joris, Charles's close friend”

His hand reached out to me and I accepted his offer.

“I believe it’s quite a job huh?”

This man believed that either way I took this job being incompetent or he tried to start a conversation. Either way I didn’t like how he started.

“Job is ok. People are the tricky one”

His silence provided a momentary relief, causing my tense body to ease. Soon after, someone came to my vision.

A blonde-haired woman enveloped Joris in a warm hug, and the sound of French language resonated in the air. Despite my understanding of French, I chose to keep to myself.

“He’s really put it on a whole new level”

Words stopped at my level, their bodies facing mine.

“Yes, this is YN”

Seeing her face, I smiled. I had a break from work, and I preferred not to spend it with people I don't know.

“I’m not surprised though. I’m Carla”

We shook hands but my mind was elsewhere. Her choice of words got my attention. ''What do you mean by that?''

I was told curious creatures get killed fast. I am okay with that. Joris expression fell and my curiosity grew. On the other hand, Carla showed us white teeth. She was giving me the vibe she could sleep like a baby even after spilling everyone's secrets.

“He is focusing on career now, doing a decent work like tidying his room is a distraction for him I suppose”

Laughter filled the space and the way she proceeded those words made me question everything. It was clear that she was his friend, and her disapproval of his decision to hire a personal assistant inclined me to be drawn to her side and trust her perspective. Bad feeling about Charles was not a coincidence.

Legs swept me elsewhere still on the territory of the Ferrari background but as I got consumed by thinking about everything and nothing, I lost the track where I was heading. The lighting changed, and the once resounding sounds of engines and formulas on the track dissipated. A metal door ahead beckoned me, and without overthinking, I reached for the knob, immediately sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Before me stood an elegant kitchen counter and a man donned in a Ferrari shirt. As our eyes met, I instinctively moved to offer an apology, feeling as though my legs were already propelling me towards the exit. However, he was quicker in his response. His warm smile welcomed me and I looked at his wrinkles around the eyes. He could be in his forties and Italian.

''Ciao''

Shyness enveloped me as it displayed on my scrunched eyebrows and crooked lips. I greeted him back.

''I am Andrea''

As the doors finally closed, my hands released their grip on the cold metal beneath my fingertips. ''I'm YN. Sorry If I disturbed you''

His laugher filled the space as If I told him the most hilarious joke ever and he closed the distance while still keeping his spirit up. His arms enveloped me in a warm hug, creating a sensation akin to being in a cozy room illuminated by flickering candles. Indeed, this guy exuded the comforting ambiance of a room bathed in candlelight.

I put the dots together. He is the personal trainer of Charles. He sent me reports about expanses on stuff for Charles's training. For the first time this day, laugh left my lips as this situation seemed so embarrassing to me, but to keep it fair, I haven't encountered any familiar faces since my interview and I got my feet on the Singapore land just today. But I felt immense gratefulness for Andrea. Mind note: I have to buy him candles sometimes. My stomach seemed to have a mind of its own as it growled, and we both erupted in laughter.

''Oh my, let me make you something''

My eyes felt like they were on the verge of falling out, and I fully embraced the mode of sabotaging the mission he had so earnestly accepted. He shook me with more laughing telling me to relax. I stopped harassing him and hopped on the barstool.

''Thank you, but you really don't have to do that'' He kept quiet with a warm smile on his face as his hands worked the magic. I didn't know what he was making, he could poison me for all I care. I did not. My soul hasn't felt this warm since I have flown through the air gate to Singapore. And it is a lot to say when it is a living hell outside there.

''I believe you’re not used to long flights''

I hummed in response and engaged him about my flight. I wanted to keep it short, but my monologue ended with details and meeting with Charles. He furrowed his eyebrows listening to me while fiddling something on the frying pan. Yep, he could easily poison me if he wanted to.

''That surprises me, Charles is always like a sunshine''

First Carla, now Andrea. As if written on a secret paper known only to few, they were describing Charles differently than I have experienced him to be making my head spin. But as long as I keep receiving money so I can leave this job and start the life I want, then I am fine not being included to this 'crew'.

''I noticed how Charles has changed his approach towards career now,'' lingered in not so approving way and I couldn't hold back anymore.

''Change of approach?''

He nodded and I cursed myself for keeping the question short. Just when I accepted the end of discussion, he put the food on a clean plate and continued.

''He's really hard on himself. He has two brothers and lost a father.''

Words hit me like a rock bottom and my breath got stuck for a second. The sound of plate landing on the counter and the smell of the food freed me from my momentary mental drift. Clearing my throat facing the warm smile.

''I knew he has brothers, but didn't know he is the oldest one''

Andrea shook his head immediately placing the utensils next to the plate.

''He is not. He is the middle child, but Charles is just Charles.''

I understood his words and took my focus on the food in front of me. My stomach responded in gratefulness as the egg omelette was filling its smell to my nostrils. Taking a bite resolved in an appreciative moan as Andrea laughed at my reaction, but his smile slowly faded away as I sensed another presence behind my back. I turned my torso with full mouth of the omelette to see Charles in his gear.

The first upper half of the gear was open, hanging itself on the sides of hips showing the fireproof underneath, displaying his toned chest. Red really suited him. Charles had this lazy look in his eyes shooting through my skull telling me something encrypted in a highly sensual manner and as I become aware I'm no longer chewing, I took off my eyes from him to the plate again.

The food sliding down had a hard time doing so and I shifted my focus to Andrea to thank him. Charles moved like a ghost behind Andrea and pulling out the water from the cabinet. Italian language filled the room and I prayed for having the food eaten already.

I found out Andrea was telling the truth; he was like a sunshine.His dimples were on full display, and his delightful chuckle echoed, sounding like a melody to my ears. I didn't wanna melt here on the barstool so I ate like a daredevil. When Andrea noticed me finishing, he reached for the plate.

''Don't worry about it, I wash it''

Frozen on the spot, he took the plate with a polite smile and I thanked him for it. I couldn't help myself looking away from Charles. He was eyeing me while taking a sip of his bottle. Sweat on his forehead made his longer hair stick to the skin in a delicious matter and I felt my knees to buckle soon. Shifting from warm to cold to hot in a second wasn't good for my heart. I excused myself and went anywhere but there.

Two days have passed and the only conversation I had with Charles were short sentences about work. He finished forth in yesterday's race resolving his mood to worsen. I overheard how critical he can be towards himself.

I was shocked how mean he was and upset about forth place out of twenty. But we are separate individuals with different dreams, If I had lost a small amount of money resolving in postponing my leaving and pursuing my dream life, I would be mad as the weather in Singapore is.

Charles told me he doesn't need me for the rest of the evening so I had practically a time off preparing for tomorrow's flight.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

[female-malice]

AMELIA STRICKLER: Trans TikTok star Dylan Mulvaney's offensive parody makes a total mockery of female athletes like me 

It Is so offensive, it reminds me of a routine by a chauvinist male comedian from the 1970s. Dylan Mulvaney, a TikTok influencer and performer, leaps around wearing Nike leggings and a sports bra. Their exaggerated movements seem to me to parody a woman’s exercise routine.

Mulvaney, a biological male who first openly identified as ‘transgender’ in March last year, has been signed by the world’s biggest sports company to promote women’s clothing. I am a GB shot putter who has won the British title twice and competed in the Commonwealth Games. I am a European finalist and world championship finalist.

I know how many years of training it takes, often at great personal cost, to reach the top levels of sport.

And I know what it is to be a woman.

In the video advert, Mulvaney frankly appears to be laughing in the face of female athletes like me – and any other woman or girl who wants to better themselves physically.

I’ve been a shot putter since I was ten. Life in professional athletics requires grit and determination. It doesn’t involve dancing around, grinning inanely.

It means getting up at the crack of dawn to train, keeping going when every muscle in your body is screaming at you to stop, forgoing time with friends and family and being utterly single-minded. And because so few female athletes attract sponsorship from giants like Nike, we often have to fit training and competing around other paid work.

For many years, I had two jobs to support my shot putting career. Recently I found a private sponsor through my athletics club Thames Valley Harriers, which enables me to keep competing.

But most female athletes don’t have that advantage. Women get 1 per cent of all sports sponsorship money – and yet to see Nike willing to shell out however many thousands it is to Mulvaney – who, remember, has not fully ‘transitioned’ to female – is utterly demoralising.

Nike likes to harp on about how it champions women: last year it announced an ‘Athletes Think Tank’ to help ‘serve today’s women athletes’, while a 2021 campaign praised mums for being ‘the toughest athletes’.

All well and good – but contrast these warm words with Nike’s actions towards the female athletes it actually sponsored. Women such as Olympic runner Alysia Montano were subject to ‘performance-based reductions’ – amounting to a 70 per cent pay cut – when they were unable to race due to being pregnant or having just given birth. In other words, penalised for being a woman.

Following a public outcry, Nike amended its policy to allow women 18 months off around pregnancy, but this latest publicity stunt reveals just how little the company really cares about women in sport.

It would be better to invest some of the money given to attention-seeking influencers such as Mulvaney to develop better sportswear for biological women.

In nearly a decade of competing at the top level, I have yet to find a decent sports bra: I have to wear two at once.

Modelling a bra on someone who has a male torso is an insult to those of us with female bodies.

At the track yesterday, many fellow female athletes were deeply upset by Nike’s apparent contempt for our sport. As one said – and I agree – ‘I’m glad Nike isn’t my sponsor.’

Women are still fighting for true equality in sport – we’ve made progress, but there’s a long way to go. We don’t need a big brand such as Nike to bring it down with crass campaigns. I agree with Sharron Davies – women should boycott Nike. If they refuse to support women in sport, then why should we support them?

[albatmobile]

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] coming soon: [3] [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hated people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun. 

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you didn't really want there to be a fourth. 

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents. 

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” She nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds.

“Do you?” 

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down, “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” You correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know of,” He trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” You repeat his words with an uninterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.” 

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” You tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” He says your last name, obeying your correction. 

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” You continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway, “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?”

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” Is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream. 

Most of your material is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The few production videos you’ve done required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It’s a total hassle. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location. 

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you. 

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many possible chances for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time. 

avid_reader began stream 

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’ 

Private streams are a whole different ballgame. 

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with, hell, the dude was pretty funny too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one. 

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night. 

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud 

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for. 

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts 

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway, “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own. 

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally puling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully. 

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better. 

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something with he way he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist. 

“Fuck,” You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good. 

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard. 

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!” 

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” You rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” 

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times. 

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a ‘how are you.’

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now.”

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," You say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” He draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?” 

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” You tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” You hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining? 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” You repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” He drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” You mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25 for fuck’s sake. 

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” He jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” You say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again, “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms result to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering emerald gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair. 

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club, it’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight it feels right. 

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way. 

Green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” You say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” He takes a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” You apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-"

You start to ramble but he cuts you off gently.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind,” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?”

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” You bite lightly at your lower lip. 

“You do like public places, don’t you?” You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” You agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” He offers lowly.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” He says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops, but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying a gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” He groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” You buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud ‘thump’ that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am,” A gruff voice startles the two of you. “Are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused. 

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you. 

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” He trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason’s lulling you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you, “Are you good with this?”

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself,” The words are out of your mouth before you can realize it. 

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand. 

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer, his lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” You whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that.” With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite your lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans, “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” He breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” He groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” He teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust. 

“A time or two,” You jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb. 

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?”

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” The other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” He mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes. 

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation, “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits.”

“Fair enough,” He mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants. 

Jason sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip. 

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #dc x reader #x reader #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars

[vera-deville]

I Will Say (I'm in Love)

08/04/2023 - 04/30/2024

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Reader Word Count: 2,787 Warnings: A fair amount of cursing; Reader's outfit is a dress and is decidedly purple; Reader does go through a little bit of a mental breakdown (I personally blame all the stress of NRC), but I promise it's gonna be alright- Gender: AFAB Tags: @viviennevermillion, @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @otomyoli, @chroniccorvus Notes: This is the second part to this fic, so please check that out before reading this! Rook is basically a fairy godmother (even tho he's a stalker, but we don't talk about that). Oh, and I made a reference to Savanaclaw Rook, because he's been living in my head rent-free and thERE ARE NO FICS ABOUT IT DARN IT-

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

In which Y/N eventually does say that she's in love.

"Shit." Y/N hissed as she swung open the wardrobe door, only to reveal that there were no decent dresses.

"For fuck's sake!" The girl screeched, running her hands through her hair and yanking at it. Only the Great Seven could help her at this point. Did any of them specialize in luck with money? Or even better yet, did any of them specialize in stopping a person from splurging all their hard earnt bribed thaumarks on art supplies?

Grim wasn't even there to help with this whole fiasco!

Who else could she ask for money? Azul? No, that one's too slippery. Kalim? No, that one's guarded by a snake and talks too much. Vil? But that one's...

That one's perfect! He wouldn't be able to resist helping out someone to look fabulous! Besides, Y/N could handle potato insults for a bit if it meant getting a fabulous dress picked out by Vil Schoenheit himself.

And so the Prefect of Ramshackle ran as fast as her legs would carry her, all the way to the house of Pomefiore. It's a pretty name, filled with pretty people, but at this moment, only one pretty person mattered.

"VIIIILLLLL! I NEEEEEED YOUR HEEEELLLLLPPPP!"

That should grab his attention.

And grab his attention it did, because mere seconds later, a tall blonde stormed into the common room, vial of poison ready in his hand for the heathen that dared summon him in such a manner.

But before he could get a word in, Y/N asked, no begged him for help with a dress. And of course, him being the gracious queen he is, he couldn't leave the potato in such a state.

"Coral, though a nice color, would be far too bright for you for this event." Holding up a card of azure up to Y/N's shoulder, Vil decided that also would not do the trick. "Perhaps a glowy yellow brown?" Y/N perked at the fabric Vil held in his hands. It was just a small square piece of fabric, but it looked oh so pretty. Like sand glimmering in the sunlight.

And then suddenly the sun lit sand turned into purple.

A very familiar purple, though Y/N couldn't quite put her finger on it. Scrunching his face in contemplation, Vil nodded to himself before letting Y/N know that she should opt for a dress in that shade of lavender.

Which is how Y/N found herself in a shopping mall, looking high and low for a vaguely familiar shade of purple in a dress that she should have gotten ready long ago. Earlier, Y/N had pondered about who to bring with her (if she chose to bring anyone at all) to the mall to help her find just the right dress. Vil was the obvious choice, but Y/N wasn't sure she wanted to indulge in his kindness more than she already had. Rook was also a good choice, but Y/N didn't feel like admitting anything to him at the current moment (though knowing his nature, he probably already knew everything).

In the end, Y/N went by herself, not confident enough to bring anyone with her. In the hours she had to get ready for her event, Y/N had something of an epiphany. Anxiety was a bitch. No shade of purple seemed to match the shade card Vil had given her. And if she did find a dress in the color, the dress was not one she'd think herself beautiful in. In the off chance that she'd find a dress that was the right shade and style, Y/N would immediately go an try it on - only to despise the way it fit around her body.

This was now the 7th store that Y/N had walked into in hopes of finding the perfect lavender dress that eluded her grasps so.

And right off the bat, there was a beautiful dress. In the same shade Vil had instructed her to buy. In a style that made her heart pick up the pace because it was simply and utterly beautiful. Making a beeline towards the dress, Y/N gently ran her hands through the fabric. Good, it wasn't itchy. She pulled the dress to the side in such a way that she could see the back, but the dress still hung on the rack, and she could feel a heave of relief making its way through her lips. It was just right.

Her heart was racing now, and Y/N couldn't shake the grin off her face, and for once, she didn't even care. Speed-walking towards the dressing rooms, Y/N nearly threw open one of the stall's doors, and locked herself inside immediately. Hanging her purse on a hook, she stripped out her clothes and slipped the dress over her head and down her body.

Except it wasn't going down her body.

It was stuck at her hips.

With a gentle fury, Y/N pulled at the dress, trying to force the thing down her thighs.

It wasn't going down.

Looking back up at the mirror, as though it would be some sort of saving grace, she continued to try to pull the dress down, but no avail.

Eventually, she zeroed in on her eyes in the mirror, and that's when Y/N stopped for a brief moment. She took in her appearance. Dress half worn, frown embedded, sweat glistening, hair frenzied, shoes thrown in some corner, and worst of all: tears beginning to form.

In a moment of rash wrath, Y/N pulled the dress off her, and threw it against the mirror, letting the tears pour out her eyes as she hugged herself and turned away from the mirror.

It's like not a single thing would go her way and it was stupid, worrying this much over a dress, but that wasn't all there was to it. It wasn't just the dress. It was the event, the school, the people, it was the whole world she'd been dropped into.

Aware that she was still technically in a public setting and should maintain at least some semblance of decorum, Y/N kept her sobs and sniffles to herself.

Knock knock.

Whipping her head up, Y/N realized that an employee was knocking on the door, and sniffed once more. Wiping her eyes and her face and wearing the clothes and shoes she originally walked in with, she grabbed her purse and the damned lavender dress, plastered a smile on her face, and opened the door.

No need to burden others with her own burdens.

Except standing outside the door was no employee, but rather Rook Hunt.

Bewildered, Y/N rubbed her eyes again in hopes that she was hallucinating and wasn't actually seeing Rook Hunt right after she had an emotional breakdown.

Sadly, she was in fact seeing Rook Hunt after said emotional breakdown.

"What a magnificent coincidence my dear Trickster!" Rook said as he walked with Y/N out of the dressing rooms of the store.

"Uh, yeah, pretty cool coincidence Rook. What're you doing here?" Y/N asked, trying to move the focus away from her and on to Rook. If he noticed, he didn't make it known. He simply continued to prattle on about a new fashion line from a brand he liked.

The thing about Rook that Y/N enjoyed at this particular moment was how despite the fact that he was here to buy something for himself, he simply followed Y/N wherever she went while occasionally interrupting to ask if a particular garment would look good on him or not. (Y/N was sure he knew that it would look good on him, and that he simply wished to hear someone else say it).

It hadn't been too long since Y/N had returned the lavender dress she'd tried to wear to an employee at the store and had instead opted to accompany Rook to the store that had the new line he was looking for (as a change of pace of some sort). The store itself was very high-end, that much she could tell, and while she'd always had a rough suspicion that Rook was in fact secretly rich, him perusing through everything that caught his eye in the store (which was a lot) without bothering about the prices certainly cemented the suspicion in Y/N.

Mindlessly scanning her eyes through the aisles visible to her as she waited for Rook to emerge from his dressing room, Y/N scrunched her face as she remembered her dressing room incident from earlier. Even though she was feeling a lot better now, it didn't change the fact that she still had no dress, and was running out of time to get ready.

Bam!

The door smack open dramatically with an even more dramatic figure emerging from the depths within.

Rook actually looked really nice. He clearly had a good eye for these things, even if most of those things were taught to him by Vil. Apparently there was a time where Rook was in Savanaclaw, and was something of a diamond in the rough (Vil's words, not hers). Before Vil got used to Rook being...well, Rook, he had given him an atrocious bob cut in hopes of Rook finally leaving him alone.

Spoiler alert, it did not work. In fact, Rook embraced the haircut so much that he hasn't changed it since he first got it, and he certainly hasn't stopped his usual Rook self.

Personally, Y/N couldn't imagine Rook looking any different. But no matter how much she pestered either Rook or Vil for old photos of him from back in Savanaclaw, neither would budge (one because it was too hideous and the other because he simply found it fun to tease her).

"Trickster? Are you alright?" Rook asked Y/N who was lost in thought.

"Hmm?" Y/N hummed, snapping out of her thoughts. "Oh yeah, I'm alright. Sorry, I was just thinking about something." Doing a once-over of Rook, she said, "You look great."

Before she could get another word in, Rook slyly side-stepped her and made his way to some corner of the store not fully visible from where she was standing. Confused, Y/N tried leaning over to see where he'd gone, but when she couldn't see anything, she simply turned back and waited for him to come back.

He'd most probably seen something else he wanted to buy and was getting it.

Pulling out her phone, Y/N realized that she had less than an hour to get ready, and sighed. Still no dress. No completed hair or makeup. No nothing.

It was at this moment that Rook popped up in front of her face.

"There you are! Did you find something you wanted to try on-" Y/N asked when she looked at what Rook was holding in his hands.

It was a dress.

It was lavender in color.

It looked beautiful.

"I saw this dress, and I immediately thought that it would suit you so well! Hurry, go try it on~" Rook explained as he shoved Y/N towards the dressing room.

Sputtering, Y/N could only hold onto the dress thrust onto her arms as she was pushed by Rook. Once inside the room, she looked at the mirror.

Sigh.

Here we go again.

Tugging off her clothes, she pulled the dress over her figure with all the time she had.

Not looking at the mirror, she pulled the dress down her thighs. It went down just fine.

Huh.

Running her hands down the fabric and smoothening out any of the wrinkles in place, Y/N finally looked at her reflection. The dress was slightly loose, but not in a bad way. It gave her room to breathe. Besides, it'd probably shrink after she threw it in the wash. Y/N twirled around, watching the movement of the dress closely. It actually looked nice.

Hesitantly, Y/N brought her hand to the lock on the door and after taking in a deep breath, she opened it.

Rook was waiting patiently, and the look on his face when he saw her in the dress gave her some amount of confidence as she walked out.

"You look beautiful."

Y/N knew he wasn't lying. He'd never lie when it came to matters of beauty. But she also knew that he wasn't exaggerating. Rook, as dramatic and odd as he was, wasn't someone to exaggerate beauty. He simply spoke his mind, and that was something she respected about him.

"It certainly is a nice dress, but I can't pay for it Rook. I didn't bring enough." Y/N told him with a sad smile.

"Who said anything about you paying? I have already paid for the dress. All that you need to do is wear it!" Rook stated happily.

Despite being short of money most if not all the time, and bribing NRC's headmaster for payments (which in all honesty were well-deserved, taking into account all the work she did for him) amongst other things, Y/N had a certain respect for money. And a certain pride regarding money too. Especially when her friends were involved.

"Rook, I can't do that. This is way too expensive, and I'm not going to make you pay for it. I can't repay you, so I'm just not going to get this dress."

"Once again, Trickster, the dress has already been paid for. I didn't do this expecting you to pay me back, so don't worry about it, and just look like your prepossessing self."

Y/N could feel her eyes tear up again for the second time that day.

Before Rook could tell her to not ruin her face with tears, Y/N jumped him in a suffocating hug (one not unlike Floyd's infamous hugs) and thanked him profusely. Smiling, he looked down at her and wrapped her in an embrace of his own. She deserved much for everything she did around the school and more, and if this could be even a little helpful, he'd do it again.

"Now, now, don't cry Y/N." At the use of her name, she looked up at Rook's face. "You have something to attend, don't you? You can't do that if you're busy crying in a mall with me, now can you?"

Sniffing, Y/N nodded, and pulled back from Rook, wiping her tears away (luckily there weren't as much as before). "Did Vil tell you I was going on a date with Leona?" She asked.

"A date? With Leona!?" Rook exclaimed, much to Y/N's surprise. "I never thought I would see the day come!"

"Wait, so you didn't know?"

"My dear trickster, how could I have possibly known?"

With one more suspicious glance, Y/N dropped the subject.

"When is your date Trickster?"

"It's in less than an hour from now. Why?"

"And hour!? We have no time left." Rook cried out. Without missing a beat, he dragged Y/N with him out the store and to a salon that was just a few stores down. Sitting her down, he instructed an employee as to what to do with her (he was very particular when he told the employee to have the dress in perfect shape). For a second, he vaguely resembled Vil. This time, Y/N paid for the services herself, not taking no from Rook as an answer.

When all was said and done, Rook stood in front of Y/N, absorbing all the details, trying to figure out of it was all enough. A tiny bit of fuzz was on her shoulder, so he plucked it off smoothly before she could question anything.

"I-Thank you Rook. You have no idea how much this all means to me." Y/N told Rook.

"I would do anything for love to prevail *mon filou. And I would do even more for you." Rook told Y/N.

Smiling at Rook, she said, "You were right. I do like Leona. No, I love him. A lot. And by the looks of it, he likes me too!" Giving him one more hug, Y/N walked away, purse in hand, excited for her date with Leona.

"Ah, young love~ Whatever could be more beautiful?" Rook asked himself in a cheerful voice as he watched Ramshackle's Prefect walk off into the distance, one step at a time to her fairytale ending. Rook felt himself proud of reaching the mall just in time to help Y/N (her purse certainly helped in tracking her down).

That's two lovebirds he's helped today!

Turning back around and wandering through the mall, Rook wondered who he'd be helping next.

Author's Note: As you can see from the dates, I really took my time with this one. When I first started writing this last year, I was planning to write about Leona and Reader's date, or more specifically, how the date was arranged and all that fun stuff, but when I sat down to write today, it just went in a completely different direction. I've never really incorporated Rook into my writings (and if I did, he's there for like three sentences), but unpredictably, he ended up playing a larger role in this fanfic. If you'd like a third part to this where we find out about how Leona and Y/N even ended up agreeing to go on a date with each other, or perhaps we find out who Rook helped or is going to help, feel free to let me know!

Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland oneshots #twst wonderland oneshots #twst oneshots #oneshots #romance #cute #friendship #best friend #friends #i won't say i'm in love #leona kingscholar #leona #kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #rook hunt #rook #hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #reader #y/n #you #vera deville #the marchioness #this took forever #vera's shenanigans

[cats-artbag]

SwapOut/Webcomic/Twitch PSA!

Hi everyone 👋🏻 Zk here >< or Cats, for older followers

So I've been getting back into doing SwapOut again, but I would like to appeal to everyone who reads and loves the comic. Much love to all of you who's still sticking around 🙏🏻💙 But something has also always been bothering me throughout this journey.

As many of us know, we artists do these comics for free (especially fan comics), starting them out of love and taking a LOT of time and energy out of our lives to continue making them.

And it's amazing how many of you come from translations or comic dubs on Youtube, which are also very well-done and take a lot of effort to make, much love to them too. There is a difference, however.

Monetization.

And I'm not asking for pity! I'm appealing for understanding.

Because some comic dubbers on Youtube are able to earn ad revenue from the videos they upload. From the beginning, we artists have given them the permission to dub our works. But we don't receive anything from it, nor do we usually charge them for using our art (against our better judgement).

We let them use our comic pages in their monetized videos for free. And occasionally these videos receive thousands and millions of views, which I imagine gives a decent amount of ad revenue, while the artists themselves don't usually earn anything from their own artwork, nor do we ever want to put it behind a paywall of any kind. (we like reading free comics too so don't worry x|)

... But doing full-colored comic pages for free eventually gets hard to sustain without any income from it, even more so when we need to give our time and energy to other jobs to earn money for a living instead. We legitimately keep going on our comics purely out of love. Truly, we would LOVE to do our own art for a living. There's things like Patreon but it's only feasible if we're also able to produce bonus content or show BTS, and only people willing to spend money for them can help us, and not readers who aren't able to.

And we understand that not everyone can afford to support us monetarily. And that's okay!

But if you love these comics and want to really help us to keep going, there ARE ways you can easily support us for free!

For example, affiliates on Twitch (like myself) are able to earn ad revenue very early on (they must have at least 50 followers, quite a requirement, but still easier to obtain than Youtube's 1000 subscribers).

(my Youtube, btw. not much rn but drop a subscribe?)

But simply put, if the vast majority of readers from the yt numbers visit and stay for ads on the artists' Twitch streams (remember to have adblocker disabled for the site, if any), they'll be making an actual, physical contribution to the artist themselves, at no cost whatsoever. We earn up to 55% from any ads that run on our stream, so the more viewers, the better!

(this is my twitch on average 8 viewers, with a 3 hour stream. again, the more the better!)

(ofc you can also buy subs to watch ad-free and supports me directly, but i'm typing all this to share the free ways people can support their fave creators ✨)

And even if that doesn't work out, I'd be happy enough to see most of you there 🙏🏻💙 I've been treating my streams as work, so I'm striving not to break the streak.

So drop a follow on my Twitch, and catch the streams when you can! They're great if you need company or background noise, and also great for co-working~

Currently streaming WEEKLY, Mondays, Wednesdays (SwapOut) and Saturdays, 10.30AM EST

(art by @cupcakepaints)

>> twitch.tv/zkcats <<

Anyway thanks for listening to my Ted talk, please share this around for others as well >< 🙏🏻 Artists, make this a reblog chain or something! Promo your stuff!

And apologies for the essay, I wasn't expecting to type this much sdghsgh this itself is not an ad for Twitch or whatev, I'm just a little frustrated with needing to juggle all this.

I was also considering hosting SwapOut somewhere that could get ad revenue, but I wasn't sure where until I realized I can probably earn that from my Tapas now (i think?? sdfhgh up to 70% ad revenue there but i haven't seen any yet) So maybe I'll post there a day earlier than here or something? We'll see. Go subscribe there! Check it out! Reread it! Help ME help YOU!

... Much appreciated ><

#catschats #undertale #webcomic #swapoutcomicupdate #typed this out mostly for people who aren't aware that ads support streamers etc. #im super tired now wheezee but im living

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You package up another pair of mitts. It’s that season where sales pick up. It’s cold and the holidays are lurking just around the corner. Your hands are achy from working your needles but you can’t complain for the uptick in demand.

Along with your crochet menagerie, you supplement your etsy shop with stickers, while pondering the prospect of cards, especially given the time of year. As overworked as your hands are, your mind feels more so.

Your computer bings. Another sale? You go around to check your open Etsy page. Nope, a message from a customer. Please don’t be a return.

It’s a message. From the vaunted Farmer’s Delight. You might be avoiding them but that doesn’t need to be a whole thing. You’re working on their order! That’s not neglect.

You open the chat, knowing to leave that little dot just hovering there would drive you crazy. 

‘Hey, just checking in. Was hoping to do a pick-up soon. Maybe in the next week?’

Sigh. Great, did they not read your last message? You know you’re a bit hard to take seriously in real life but this is text. There is no height difference or age gap. You’re on even ground. You’re traversing a world of digital equity.

‘Hey. Not sure if you saw my last message but I can’t do a pick up. Please provide your mailing address and I’ll be happy to send this out. Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns.’

There, firm but still customer service-y. You hit send and go back to smooth labels onto bubble packs. Another chime.

‘Like I said, mailing out here is inconsistent. I need the order as soon as possible. Please let me know a time that works for you. I need to hit the hardware store so I’ll be coming to town. We can meet there for exchange.’

Ugh. You want to punch the computer. You should just refund their order and be done with it. Even with your pick-up in sales, it’s a big chunk. You just can’t stomach giving back that much money and they didn’t even ask for their shipping fee back.

You let the message stew. They are offering a public meet-up. That seems like a good omen, at least. Friday night might work, your mom will be done work at four. That’s a decent amount of time. And it’s close to the post office.

You seal another package and leave the room, treading down the hall as you hear your mother clacking away at her keyboard. You approach cautiously. She closes the door when she’s in a meeting. You tap on the doorframe and peek through the open door.

“Mom, sorry, I don’t wanna bother–”

“All good,” she sits back and pushes up her glasses to rub her eyes, “all these emails are doing my head in.”

“Um, well, you remember that order I got. For pick-up. Could you drive me to the hardware store on Friday?”

“Friday?” She echoes.

“I figure we can stop by the post office on the way. And I’ll buy dinner. You know dad loves the gyros down at Eddie’s. It’s on our way…” You give a smile and sway, “please.”

“Sure. Sounds like a good excuse to get out. Besides, I need to grab some washer thing for the sink. I don’t know, your dad was going on about it. I’ll ask,” he flips her glasses down, “oh, that’s so nice! A big sale–” she claps her hands. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

You raise your brows, surprised by her excitement. You remember when you quit your craft store job to buy a Cricut machine and go all in. She was less than jazzed.

“Really?”

“Of course,” she beams, standing and grabbing her empty mug, “you know, I was a bit concerned. No school, no job, but you’re a go-getter. Any man would be happy to marry someone with so many hobbies, and hobbies that pay.”

“Hobbies? Mom, this is a business. I have to pay taxes,” you back out of her way as she comes into the hall.

“I know, sweetie, but…” she glances around, “it’s still young. You don’t know if a business is a business for a few years. I’m not knocking you down, I’m trying to be realistic.”

“Mom, please, do we have to worry about five years from now? I want to see how far this goes without worrying about guys or a husband or– I can’t even order a beer yet.”

“Me and your dad married right out of high school. We never worried about all that dating stuff and it was all so simple. Trust me, once you find someone, the world will be so much clearer.”

“If it’s easier, I can get an uber on Friday,” you cross your arms and follow her towards the stairs.

“Don’t be like that. I’m being supportive. But you make sure you’re saving money. Pray the day comes and you’ll have a nice nest egg for your wedding,” she stops at the top of the stairs, “or tuition. There’s lots of cuties in college.”

“Mom,” you roll your eyes, “let’s just take it a day at a time. Friday I’ll get that order out.”

“Oh, remind me to grab some grout cleaner when we’re there too,” she points at you before she turns to descend the stairs, “the bathroom is looking a bit grimy.”

You mutter, “alright, mom,” and slowly turn away.

Everything with her comes back to that one thing. She just assumes that you’re lonely. Worse, she seems to believe you’re wasting your time on all this. 

You shut your door and tramp around to your laptop. You sit on the cushioned stool and type in your reply to Farmer’s Delights; ‘Friday works for me. After four.’

Three dots pop up almost right away. Then disappear. Then appear again.

‘Sounds great. I’ll see you there.’

You send a thumbs up and close out. You have to finish packing then get back to destroying your carpal tunnel. It’s money, your mom’s right about that, but you won’t be saving for a wedding.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #drabble #au #bookstore au #series #special interest #ghosted

[steddieas-shegoes]

"okay, but in my defense, you shouldn't have left me alone." - Eddie 'no impulse control' Munson

I absolutely love this and I think this should be on his gravestone tbh

Government money was great, but it was a little overwhelming to know so much money was sitting in his bank account.

If Wayne hadn't gotten his own to buy a new house, he would have given most of it to him so he could retire, but Wayne wouldn't allow it.

He bought a new guitar, bought another used van after his got taken in for evidence and couldn't be released, even bought himself Metallica tickets.

But that barely scratched the surface of what they gave him.

Steve used some of his to buy Robin a car (somehow in the mix, she'd only been given enough to cover medical bills from her very short visit to the ER) and enrolled in community college.

Steve would never buy something for himself unless it was necessary.

So, Eddie did it for him.

He used a pretty good decent chunk of money and bought him a house.

It was small, only two bedrooms, and on the outskirts of town.

It had a pool, thought a much smaller one than the Harrington house.

It also had a beautiful garden in the front, and plenty of places to put some lawn chairs for guests to hang out.

He blindfolded Steve the day after he closed on it, drove him to the house, and made him stand right in the middle of the road to look at it all.

He removed the blindfold.

Steve stared at the house.

"What's this? Did you buy a house?"

"I did."

"Well, it looks great. Do you need help decorating or moving?"

"The house isn't for me. No wait. It kind of us. I technically bought it for you, but was hoping I could live with you?"

Steve stared at the house again.

"You bought me a house."

"I bought us a house."

"What the hell?"

"In my defense, you shouldn't have left me alone with large amounts of money."

"I wasn't the one who did!"

"The government did. And now we have a house."

"I already have a house, Eds."

"But you hate it. It's too big. This is perfect."

Steve thought about it, Eddie could see him weighing every pro and con he could think of.

"Give me a tour of our house, then."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

[kittiecode]

Things I wish I knew when I found the Law Of Assumption..

1. Time is entirely irrelevant

If you stay awake for 48 hours, the sun setting and rising doesn't take away from your continued experience of being awake for 2 days straight.

Sleep creates an illusion of separation between moments in "time", but life is all just one huge experience.

Watch where you are putting yourself at all times. Time isn't real, you are constantly creating.

2. There's no off button

This doesn't only get put to work when you choose to remember to use it. This is how life works. Try to not see it as some kind of life hack, or a human version of an additional Google chrome extension.

This is life, this is how you play it. The sooner you keep yourself in check, the quicker life will change for you.

3. Everything is possible, you're just too familiar with bad states

And that's why things don't seem to change. Revision is great, but too often forgotten. Changing how you feel about previous situations, changes how you get to experience similar situations linked to the previous ones. For anything. SP, friends, money, career.

Change how you feel about things. And yes, that can take a bit more deliberate monitoring of how you see things.

Not everyone comes from stable homes with parents who have decent amounts of money where you've been given iPhone after iPhone after shopping spree after new furniture after vacation after new family car. So yes, that takes changing beliefs and emotional reactions to things for a good amount of people. And yes, that takes as long as you need to in order to start feeling yourself changing how you feel about things.

We are forgetting that we have beliefs that have roots as deep as early childhood. Not everyone has had the same experiences, and so you cannot tell everyone that feelings don't matter.

You tell that to someone who's experienced stress in their home from their mom not being able to pay for electricity and so on that has created pretty strong beliefs surrounding money and stability that has gotten to the point where they think of money and their body goes into panic mode, and they'll struggle to manifest the way you manifest when you've had a pretty stable good foundation to grow up on.

If you have had a rough life and you're still able to easily detach from the bad and accept that everything is possible for you and you can have anything, that's amazing and I mean that. But a lot of people who find out about conscious manifesting are seeking entire life changes, and the old story can come with some baggage

A journey of creation is a personal one. It's for you. Other people can help, that's why I'm on this blog. But remember that what we teach others is what we've experienced movement and success with. I've studied this for years now. I've changed my family's life for the better, from poverty to a significant change to our current standard of living. I've used this enough to know it's the truth, and now I'm here to help others too!

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #The law of assumption #girlblog #girl blogger #coquette

[persesphonestears]

Another tattoo

(Gif not mine :>)

A/N: So I have to make this a more than one part series because I wrote like way too much and I’m gonna die if I don’t post this already. Also so sorry it’s only Ghost in this post, but promise the second part will have the others!! I actually had so much fun writing this like omfg, I don’t have any piercings or tats for myself thanks to money problems atm but like actually I don’t know where I was going with that- uh anyway enjoy! I’m very tired. (looking at the amount now seems rlly small so sorry :/) ALSO I FUCKIN HATE THE NAME TOO LEAVE ME ALONE.

CW: He/they pronouns used for reader(? I might have ended up just using they/them), Reader has tattoos and piercings, I DONT THINK I USED Y/N LES GOO, I call ghost Simon when he isn't at work, Probably incorrect tattoo health procedures, Reader may be a little bland when first meeting Ghost(?), small mentions of gods(?)

Word count: 1342

Simon was finally let off for a break, given it’s only because Price knew he wasn’t keeping himself healthy or sleeping, so being the ‘dad’ boss he is, Simon was forced to take time off. While Simon wasn’t even close to being happy about having to not stay at base and having to make himself food and all the other human necessities, he’d been wanting a new tattoo for some time now. While maybe some of the privates would simply tattoo each other with pen ink, he’d rather die on the field than die from an infection from a more than likely shitty tattoo.

Walking through the somewhat dodgy looking part of his hometown, looking for a seemingly decent tattoo shop. While walking his eye was caught by the small little tattoo shop that looked clean and not all that dodgy. A small bell as the door opened rang as Simon stepped through, looking around at the walls he was impressed with the artwork that was displayed. He could hear faint 2000s rock music in the background of the shop, standing awkwardly waiting to see if anyone was actually here.

Turning around to walk out, he heard a small crash and a string of curses that followed.

Simon stopped and turned to see a short tattooed and pierced person walking out from the back of the shop. “Hi, sorry I was uh..” their talking trailed off as he looked down to see a fresh and unfinished tattoo on their leg. Unknown to Simon, the person in front of him was just very very happy that they weren’t able to be seen from the back, preferring not to be caught staring at the huge 6’4 man in their shop. 

“Uh anyway, I’m guessing you don’t have an appointment cause I don’t have any till later tonight, but I take walk in’s, both for tats and piercings'' They rambled off as they walked around to the front desk checking through their computer, Simon watched them, surprised by the feeling of fluttering in his stomach. Pushing it away he cleared his throat “Uh yeah walk in, are you able to tat up my other forearm?” he was wearing a t-shirt under his hoodie, happy he wasn’t going to be taking his shirt off. “Mhm sure, I just need to ask a few questions and then get you to sign some consent forms, that cool?” He asked walking back around and sitting on one of the couch chairs at the front, taking a seat after them, Simon sat and agreed to the others' request.

“Cool, alright so first is which arm you want it on obviously and if you have any tattoos on your forearm already?” Simon answered with short and gruff answers “My right arm and no, my left is already tattooed(I think I can’t remember which arm of his is tatted).” “Right cool okay so I’m not gonna bother asking if you're of age because it's pretty obvious because holy shit you are probably the biggest and hottest man I’ve ever seen, but just read through these quick and sign ‘em” Thanking whatever gods there were for people not being able to read minds. Handing the forms to Simon he grabbed them and the pen from your hands, giving a quick read through signing where he had to. Putting them back on the desk, you grabbed them right back and skimmed through them, “Okay Simon, well what do you want?”.

—tiny time skip–

After setting everything up and placing the stencil of the sketch that you drew up (That Simon wouldn’t admit but absolutely adored) onto the gruff military man that was sitting in your chair. “Okay, you ready?” A simple nod was what you received in response. Instead of pushing you continued to go ahead and start his tattoo, not once deciding to ask about some of the many scars that graced his arms. Them seemingly adding onto your attraction for the stranger in your shop as he sat still and silent. Becoming; as you do when tattooing, engrossed in the soft buzzing, the hushed music of your playlist and the ink going into skin at your hand.

“How many do you ‘got?” The gruff voice from above me spoke as I continued to stab his skin. “Tats or piercings?” Responding with another question as I kept my focus on the shading, trying to not let the fact that this absolute 10/10 was asking you about yourself. Sure it was most likely to just make conversation but you could dream. “Both?” The voice behind the black surgical mask didn’t sound overly confident but even when peeking up at the man he was still only looking forward. “I stopped counting how many tats I got a while ago. As for my piercings uh..” cutting myself off to count in my head. “I’d say about 9, not counting my ears.” Feeling a cold gaze turn towards me I stiffen slightly. 

“You only have 6 on your face.” (I chose to give reader a vertical labret, septum, both sides of the nose(like so you could use a chain), bridge, eyebrow :D) His voice replies, stifling my laugh “yeah I know I just don’t normally let people see my chest or just randomly show my stomach.” Giggling, I look up to see his ears turning a slight pink. “R-right sorry.” Trying not to laugh at a client, we continued to talk for a bit more before I suggested to put a movie on more to make it less uncomfortable for me with the awkward conversation. After picking a movie, he seemed to relax just a tad more, getting myself comfortable. I continued to finish up the art piece I was adding to someone's skin.

—another time skip because Ghost would get something edgy and big and I can’t keep writing silly awkwardness—

By the time you had finished and made sure to add some disinfectant and soothing cream to the skin before wrapping it up. You pat his shoulder smiling softly “you’re all done big guy”. Rising from the seat, he walked somehow (even though this man is huge) silently towards the front desk. Scanning his card and giving him the papers that explained how to look after his tattoo. “Thank you. You’re uhm. Very handsome- or uh pretty? I don’t know, can I just get your number?” Stumbling over his words brought a smile to your face. “Sure, I’d uh I’d actually really like it if you took my number” you ramble as you grab some scrap paper, quickly writing your personal number you hand it to him.

Seeing his eyes scrunch slightly, let you know he was smiling at you, and god almighty if the fact that this huge, scary, masked, stoic, man giving you a smile, that you couldn’t even see, wouldn’t make you swoon. Giving you a quick nod he walked out, the small bell above your door ringing in your ears as you watched him leave. 

Giggling to yourself as you stupidly fist pumped the air and twirled around happily, not registering the sound of the bell being rung, indicating the opening of a door. What you did register was the once again gruff voice, clearing their throat as you turned back to look at the man who just left back in your shop. “Forgot ma’ cap.” Swiftly grabbing his hat back with what you could only assume was the smuggest look ever he turned back around. This time leaving you with a curt “Bye now, doll”

Leaving you red faced, in the middle of your own shop. Snapping out of it you groaned loudly before retreating to the floor, hidden by the desk. Cursing yourself for your stupid victory jig you did before even making sure that he wouldn’t come back for a bit. A buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal dread, pulling out your phone and opening it to see a message from an unknown number. “That lil’ dance was very cute btw”.

A/N: *twerks cutely* ANYWAY

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 x reader #cod #cod mw2 ghost #simon 'ghost' riley #arctic writes #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #cod ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost imagine #ghost modern warfare #ghost mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fic

[onefourone]

gaz x gn!reader drabble (no warnings)

also im sorry for not posting for a while, i havent been doing too great 🥲 but i hope yall like it + sorry for any mistakes

having been with kyle (or gaz, as he's referred to by his friends) for years now, you've come to appreciate every single way he expresses his love and affection for you.

the way he looks at you. kyle has always had this gaze that made your breath stutter in your chest. but you feel safe. you feel protected under his watchful eye. not a single thing goes unnoticed as long as he's there to see it. sometimes even when he isn't. he maps out every part of your body and soul with his eyes, committing every inch of you to his memory. he loves making eye contact with you whenever it's possible, just so you can see the extent of his devotion.

the way he touches you. gaz is a military man. his hands have caused so much death in his service, which is something you hate thinking about (and so does he). those same hands come home to you and cradle you like you're the most precious jewel on the planet. his hands dig into the knots on your back. they rub lotion onto your skin after a shower. they rub your stomach when it's upset. they care for you.

the way he cooks for you. it's not an uncommon sight, seeing gaz in the kitchen. he loves to cook for you more than anything. he loves to bust out his mother's old recipes to make for you. he's always keeping you fed. nothing makes him happier than the seeing the thankful smile on your face before eating what he prepared. while he would never turn down a cooked meal from you if you wanted to make it, he never wants you to feel like you're forced to make anything if you don't want you. he wants you to relax and eat good food like the royalty that you are.

the way he speaks to you. kyle's voice was a big part of why you fell for him in the first place. it's silky smooth, and so relaxing to listen to. you often ask him to read to you or tell you a random story just so you can sleep. you could hear him speak forever and never get tired of it. you constantly run out of space on your phone because you save every single voicemail and voice message he leaves you, just so you can hear his beautiful voice when you're feeling anxious.

the way he's loyal to you. you know that loyalty is supposed to be a given in any relationship. but kyle is loyal in a way you've never experienced before with previous partners. he actually advocates for you. family putting you down? he tells them off and reminds you of your worth. "friends" treating you badly? he tells them to fuck off and let's you know they don't deserve you. you've never had anyone put you first like this before and it's such a refreshing feeling with him. if you ever feel like it's too much, he will never push it. but you know he always has your back regardless.

the way he comes back to you. it's no secret that you hate kyle's work. you hate that he constantly had to leave. you hate barely being able to contact him while he's gone. you hate stewing in your anxiety for weeks, not knowing if you'd ever get to see him again. but he always comes back. he says as much whenever he can. there's no "if" or "maybe" with him. he says he will come back to you, and he always does.

the way he spoils you. kyle makes a decent amount of money from his work. decent enough that he constantly begs you to quit your shitty office job. you refuse on account of needing a way to busy your mind while he's gone. to compromise, he buys you gifts constantly. it never works to try and pretend you have nothing you're interested in. he is extremely perceptive and pays attention to everything you say and do. you'll constantly find yourself on the receiving end of all your favorite things.

the way he marries you. when you bring up the idea of getting married, he practically collapses onto his knees in relief. he's so incredibly happy that you want that with him, because he can't see a reality where he isn't yours for all of eternity. when he eventually proposes to you under the stars in your favorite park, you can just tell he is going to make you the happiest person in the world. when you get back home, he reveals (the most sheepish you've ever seen him) that he actually bought the ring ages ago, but he was afraid he'd been moving too fast. he couldn't help but laugh at the adorable look of shock you had.

the way he cherishes you forever. the married life with kyle was really not that different. he still treats you like he just fell in love with you, even years later. he finally took you to meet his team, after years of brief greetings while you video called kyle. you felt indebted to this group of people for keeping the love of your life alive (though, his captain was quick to let you know that kyle does the same for the rest of them often). you smile when his other teammate, soap, tells you about how kyle never shuts up about you ever. he even carries a picture of you on him at all times for good luck. you try your best (and fail) not to cry.

#cod #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader