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beiasluv · 7 months

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forbidden fruit | Charles Leclerc

a/n: new to the f1 communityy 😬 apologies for any term or idea i got wrong. female!reader. no proofread! enjoyy 🤍

summary: the princess of mercedes and the prince of ferrari, what could possibly go wrong?

“y/n! y/n! she’s in her last turn! leclerc’s trailing behind! can he do an over take?”

splashing champagnes and listening to the dutch national anthem were never your favorite of winning a podium, but who cares?

you were on P3 and charles leclerc was not.

perhaps retelling the story of your rivalry with the monégasque driver would take a whole frustrating, aggravating, and lengthy year for us to get through; and perhaps it was for the best to leave it where it is, never to be touched, but to reminisce with a needle of cringeness poking through your heart.

although an honorable mention to verstappen, for taking the lead role of leclerc’s personal favorite rival.

it was all an inchident, of course.

smirking back to the driver in a flashing, scuderia ferrari, red fire suit, you could only feel your ego bubbling to the top of your throat. charles leclerc was staring. and staring hard. what a shame you couldn’t even take out your phone and take a snippet of his raging glance. what a fun sight for the whole news headlines to see.

‘charles leclerc, envy and jealousy…’

of course, he couldn’t lash it out. how could he? would the handsome, young, and talented ferrari driver want to ruin his reputation in the media? obviously, not.

of course, you knew it all too well. every day you wake up with the tip of a knife, aiming at your throat, ready to nick you anytime you take a wrong step on the luxurious path of an f1 driver. being the only female driver on the grid makes your life a thousand times more challenging.

but who were you to be a nitpick?

the media loves drama. we all do. perhaps it was a little bit more entertaining to see what you are wearing when the races had gone wrong. what hairstyle were you wearing for the big race? or, maybe, just which driver you were dating on the grid this season?

never once you could escape the dating questions or all the bullshit misogynistic attitudes from the journalists, press, media, and, well, …you name it.

perhaps you have to give it to leclerc for never going easy on you just because you are of a different gender.

“congratulations on P3, y/n,” max turned towards you and gave you a pat on the shoulder; simultaneously, bringing you back to reality.

“t- thanks.”

—

“you win this one, l/n.”

he took off his helmet, and clutched it loosely to his side. the cheeky smirk plastered on his face. the eyes searched for the depth of yours.

only you knew how much pain it was for him to force his lips to create such a soft and fake smile for the thousand camera lenses, waiting to catch the two rivals lacking. bumping into leclerc after the race, fresh and full of adrenaline, alone in the hallway of the track was never an enjoyable experience to endure.

“good race, leclerc,” you muttered out as many PR and drivers walked past you two.

“same to you.”

what a shame your PR manager ushered you out for the media room before you two could give a shot of throwing hands - elegantly, of course.

—

“good work on the qualifying round, l/n. return to the garage. over.”

“copy that,” you tapped your headset, notifying the engineer of the prestigious mercedes team.

driving for mercedes in f1 could count as your biggest dream since the karting days. and the race won against ferrari was a - personal - success.

slowing your baby down, and pressing the brake mechanism of the car, you came to a halt as the friction overpowered the tires. one or two seconds later, you could hear the mercedes team rushing and scurrying over to your parked position to collect you back to the mothership.

“take her back, guys!”

the screaming of your fans nearby erupted as you ascended out from the cramped space of your f1 seat. taking your helmet off, and waving to them; you gracefully jumped down from the car and headed towards the mercedes headquarters.

a long walk, but who are you to make a fuss?

an f1 driver should have no problem walking a couple of miles. oh but how annoyingly a group of fans quickly crowded over you and blocked your ways…red flags, horses, and charles leclerc faces. clearly, you knew whose fans they were.

fussing, grabbing, and pulling, you were harassed, unfortunately. autographs, hats, pictures, postcards, and questionable stuff were pushed into your face.

“y/n! please! sign my shirt!” “get the hell away from charles!”

“charles deserved p3 today!” “l/n!! l/n! say hi to my dad! he loves you!”

trying to fulfill all of their requirements, you realized you had found yourself in the sea of scuderia ferrari fans. it is an unspoken fact that you were the rival of charles leclerc; you could say some fans were more enthralled by that fact than others.

“y/n! what do you think about charles? are you guys dating?”

sometimes you hate technology. the cameras pointing at you reminded me of the knife you carry mentally with you every day. it could gain you thousands of thousands of likes in a few tiktoks or perhaps get ready to say goodbye to your f1 position.

“…we’re not talking. in any complicate way,” smiling through the pain you signed the cap that was shoved into your face. gosh, mercedes. where was your security?

your patience could only last so much until one fan decided it was worth it to grab your hand and pull you down for an instagram-worthy photo. and he possibly thought the best way to execute it was to, firstly, seize your waist. how thoughtful of him.

“fuc- please don’t-”

“y/n! i love you!”

man-child was not having it. sweaty and clammy hands could send chills down your spine if you didn’t know.

“please-”

smile through the pain. smile through the pain. it was all part of the job, at the end of the day. the fans still won and you were just a doll for f1. breathe in, breathe out.

he pulled his iphone 7 out of his pocket, painfully slow; slower than the ferrari’s pitstops. his side was squished to yours. the cologne, the smell, the sensory, everything-

“hey, hands off.”

you could say it was the first time you were glad to see charles leclerc from your entire life; wearing his race suit sluttily around his waist. leclerc - being leclerc - stunned his fans, leaving a big hole in the crowd around you.

he was reaching out for your waist; surprisingly, in a way you were pleased, and pulled you out of the red crowd. and just like magic, the security came rushing in and ushered the mob of fans away from the scene.

wearing that stunned face of yours, you regained consciousness and your rival emotions. clearing your already cleared throat, charles took it as a signal to let go of your waist. how suddenly you realized it was all happening over the armor of your fire suit.

thank god.

“..thanks”

“no need to thank me,” the competitive tone made its way through his annoying lips again. scoffing, he looked at you with his hand clutching his helmet by his side, “i don’t understand why they need to adore you this much.”

how rude.

“for the record, they are your fans, leclerc,” you scoffed offendedly, and your hand found its natural place on your chest; clutching for dramatic effect.

“what did i do to deserve such loyal fans, l/n…” not even looking at you he smirked under his nose. “they shouldn’t be acting this way, no?”

he looked over at you, seeing you in your distressed state and a chuckle left his lips. the cameras settled on the stands far away in the distance and stared at you two, they were definitely on.

shit.

this is going to end up in the headlines.

—

“check out your new title…” your manager cleared his throat as you nervously waited.

“you can’t just leave me hanging here!”

placing your phone in your lap your hands returned to the comfort of the steering wheel. twisting and turning, you maneuvered your mercedes inside the driver's garage.

“calm the fuck down! i’m pulling out the source for accuracy,” you swore you could see your manager rolling his eyes. “wait for it…‘charles to the rescue. mercedes and ferrari, love or rivalry?’”

“shut up.”

“i can send you the links.”

“please don’t,” you sighed as you looked over your shoulder to slide into the parking lot like a distinguished f1 driver. “…the devil works hard, but the media works harder, or what?”

“we could use a little PR for mercedes, y’know?” the crackled chuckle left your phone.

please.

“the signal is shit in the parking lot, i’ll see you at the paddock. bye.”

“alright, be quick.”

gathering your bag and phone, you checked your face one last time in the rearview mirror and opened the car door. unfortunately, the infamous ferrari entered the parking lot with its signature roars, as you stepped out of your car.

the devil had worked hard once again. walking to your trunk, you kicked it open and snatched some of your essential stuff for the race. and who would’ve thought charles leclerc could park his car in under 20 seconds?

not to mention, it wasn’t straight. (oops)

getting out of his car, he checked his hair and fixed his shirt. obviously, aware of the paparazzi lurking around the track’s garage for the big day, and hoping to sell a couple of pics for something a little more than a couple of bucks. perhaps an even better price for them if they caught you and your rival having a ‘friendly’ chat.

don’t get close to him. don’t get close to him.

“what a coincidence,” leclerc approached your mercedes as he locked his ferrari with its infamous beeping.

“how so?”

smirking back at him, you slammed your trunk closed and shut off; locking your car in the same manner. catching the glimpse of his eyes you made it your personal goal to escape him as fast as you could possibly can.

flicking your head away and taking off, the path inside the track was as empty as you hoped it could be.

“slow down, i just wanna talk.”

“leclerc.”

“you walk too fast,” you swore if you looked back and he is grinning. “you trying to escape from me?”

fuck.

“got a problem with that, leclerc?”

his dark green eyes met yours after you decided the risk was below the ‘manageable’ level to turn around.

“no,” he grinned at you. how you wish you could smack it off of his face. “i jus’ want some company while walking to the track, no?”

company, my ass.

clearing his throat, he looked at you, “you’re a pretty good rival though.”

gaining a nod and a smirk from you leclerc was cut short of his run time as his PR manager came to collect him to the ferrari garage. how sad. his messy hair, the confidential wave, and two eyes met yours one last time before you decided to head to the mothership of your mercedes headquarters.

big trouble, y/n. big trouble.

—

“y/n, we neeed to talk.”

the paddock was usually quiet upstairs, all the mechanics and engineers spent their time in garage down below. only toto, george, lewis, your manager, and their managers, and - obviously - you would spend time up here. also. is every private manager in the world annoyingly scary and friendly at the same time or what?

sitting down next to you on the black sofa of the mercedes headquarters by the pitch, you were face-to-face with your lovely manager.

clearing your nonexistent anxiety, “…yes?”

“look…the media is starting to notice your relationship with charles…”

“and..?”

“and,” he crossed his arms, “we need to work on keeping this situation private…it could affect your reputation. maybe after the soft launch phase is over, you can publicize it…if you want to, obviously.”

the fuck?

“…what are your thoughts?”

he looked into your face, not a single thought behind it. somehow the racetrack outside the notoriously big, shiny window of the mercedes paddock suddenly gained your attention, and he restored to snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“what-? oh right- for fuck’s sake! we’re not in a relationship!”

“and what about those paparazzis’ pictures? I thought we agreed on sharing every ‘public’ detail about your life with me?”

“first of all, privacy. second of all. you believe that?! anthony! you’re my manager, i would’ve told you if i was dating a ferrari driver!” grabbing a quick breath,

“do you think i want to date the reddest of all flags on the grid?!”

“yeah? but that’s not the impression the media got,” he said. “even max! max verstappen thought-”

“who cares what max thinks!” you thrown your head back on the sofa.

“PR could be good, but we don’t know if it’s going to blacklash-”

george russell. he walked up to you two arguing on the black sofa and smirked at you; clearly, he heard your talks about ‘the reddest of all flags on the grid.’

“shut your mouth, russell,” sighing sarcastically as you could and you turned to your manager, who was having the time of his life.

“I’m not saying anything,” he raised his hands defensively, grinning the shit out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m a driver, not a play doll you could match-make for the team’s reputation. hell. doesn’t charles have a girlfriend?”

anthony pulled out his phone and scrolled through ‘something,’ “yes…charles…has a girlfriend, PR relationship?”

“what do you mean?”

putting his phone away, “doesn’t matter. but what the media care about is to get a story out of nothing.”

“…and?”

“you have a reputation of being a private figure, and you're an expert in keeping it that way. we just need to do that until the end of the season.”

george chuckled sarcastically, "she seems angry at us, guys.”

“i am. and i’m not dating anyone for mercedes. done,” you stood up from the sofa and beelined towards the door. “also. i’m telling toto.”

and someone finally heard you this time. the whole room’s atmosphere seemed to tense up as someone entered the door.

toto wolff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” toto asked as george smirked at the unfolding situation.

you swung your head towards the origin of the sound and cleared your throat, “your employee, mr. wolff, is trying to matchmake me with a ferrari driver.”

toto chuckled.

toto chuckled?

“so there is something between you and charles?” he raised his eyebrow at you. expectedly, george was holding his laughter in for his dear life.

“why does everyone thinks that we’re dating?! even toto?!”

“so you’re not dating leclerc?”

“no!”

congratulations. you have successfully crashed onto the sofa once again, groaning your pain out.

“she’s lying,” george chimed in.

“I. am. not.”

how surprising that george’s back kissed the sofa as you tackled him jokingly down. a moment of silence for toto to watch many of his best drivers tackle each other like it’s a normal day in kindergarten.

“are you sure you are not dating, leclerc?”

last straw. you clutched your bag and left george dysfunctional on the couch. walking past the room, you glanced back one last time and said with the best sarcasm, “i’m not. and I’m not dating him for mercedes. done! I’m a driver, not a doll!”

slamming the door shut, you headed for your private driver’s room.

"she's angry at us…” george chuckles nervously; obviously, with a hint of joy.

“no shit sherlock”

—

edit: part 2

part 2?? reblog, like, whatever the heck you want would be appreciated 😘

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, lots of luv 🤍

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silverwhittlingknife · 4 months

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snippet

“Nobody is going to die here,” Dick says, trying to project a confidence he doesn’t feel.

If this were the Titans, he’d probably get some acknowledgement. Titans together. A clap on the shoulder. Something. But it’s not the Titans, so instead Cass Cain flicks a glance at him and then goes back to scowling at the wall, and Jason says, “Would you fucking quit it with the inspirational speeches, leader-boy?” and Tim says, “I think we should prioritize getting Dick out,” as if Dick isn’t even here.

“I’m fine,” Dick says. Because he is. Mostly. It’s not like it’s exactly fun to get whipped and then tied to an ominous black altar in a room with no obvious doors after successfully talking a cult into deciding you’re the optimum sacrifice of their four captives. But it’s certainly better than the alternative scenario in which the Dark Leader Whatsisface had listened to Tim’s pitch.

“Weakness in the wall,” Cass says. “…Here.”

“Yeah, weak walls would be great, if we had C4,” Jason says. “Except for the part where we don’t have C4, because somebody took my stash and my helmet. Some fucking insufferable team of fucking idiots who like to mind everybody else’s business—”

“Kick, maybe,” Cass says to Tim, who’s still trying to pick the lock on one of Dick’s manacles.

Tim frowns. “I don’t think even you can kick a wall hard enough to—”

“Not… the wall. Kick him,” Cass says, nodding at Jason.

“Oh fuck you very much,” Jason says, with more heat than Dick expects. Jason’s edgy, beneath all the bluffing, and it’s hard to tell why, because although the situation admittedly isn’t great the countdown timer still has half an hour to go before the cult starts punching whatever buttons outside the room that will set Dick on fire—or get him eaten by a dragon, it hadn’t been very clear through the chanting.

Anyway. They have time, even if Cass’s shoulders are tense and Tim’s face is strained and Dick’s back is killing him—they strapped him with his back down after the beating, and he’s trying not to think about the likelihood of blood stains on this altar thing—and the sweat from the heat is getting in his eyes.

A hand. Tim’s wiped the sweat away, which is both a comfort and kind of humiliating. Tim’s lips are pinched—he’s furious at Dick, it’s obvious, only not acting on it because they’re in front of Jason and Tim, at least, understands the importance of presenting a united front. So it’ll be a fight, once they get out, but Dick’s not sorry. If he’s totally honest, he’s a little angry himself. Trust me, Tim had muttered, when they all first got grabbed, and then he’d raised his voice and asked to speak privately to the leader, and Dick only realized too late what he’d been after, when the cultists came back and explained how Red Robin was going to be their sacrifice to the dragon-god and everyone else could live and watch in order to marvel at their lord’s demonic glory or whatever.

“Cass, listen,” Tim says. "I think if you help me with the manacles—”

“No,” Cass says. Tim’s been trying to get her to come back to the altar to mess with Dick’s bindings; Cass has been ignoring him. A splinter in an otherwise seamless partnership.

"If you put pressure on the other side while I pick the lock," Tim says.

"No," Cass snaps. Cass doesn’t believe in united fronts, Jason or no Jason—Dick should know, she once threw him into a wall—but Dick doesn’t think she’s actually mad at Tim, just impatient. “Manacles broken, not broken… doesn’t matter. No good if we’re still here. Need to get out. Then Nightwing.”

“I vote we leave him here, actually,” Jason says.

“Jason, shut up,” Tim says.

“What, is this suddenly not a democracy? Do I not have the right to an opinion? Are you against voting, Replacement?”

#dick you're lying to yourself it would've been even worse with the titans #my fic #i have no idea where this is going i just had it in my head and needed to get it out #dick grayson #tim drake #cassandra cain #jason todd

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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Kiss in Payment

Summary: Continuation of Services/Goods of Equivalent Value. You have opened a teashop near an off record military base and this is a bunch of snippets of your life there.

Words: 7.5k (HOW?!)

You hadn't slept in a real bed in so long and you were not prepared to get out of it. It smelled good and it was warm and you were tired right down to your bones from all the work of the past 6 months finally culminating in the busiest and happiest evening you had possibly ever had. Only half awake you nuzzled into the pillow with a happy little sigh of contented comfort.

"Feels better than sleeping in a chair doesn't it?"

At first you smiled sleepily and made a sound of agreement. And then your brain caught up and you shot up, eyes opening and darting around madly to find you were in a small, simple bedroom and Simon was sat in the chair in the corner, book in hand being dogeared and set on a little table now that you were awake.

You had seen most of his face before when he was drinking or eating so seeing the whole thing wasn't any more of a shock than the situation you had found yourself in. It was a little strange seeing the skin around his eyes cleaned and bright, no smudges of black. He looked softer like this you thought.

"I um, I don't um… ah ha I must have fallen asleep in the chair right? Must have just been so tired! You didn't have to move me, but thanks, it wouldn't have been good for me to sleep there right? Ha ha."

God you were adorable when you tried to lie. Heart was far too prominent on your sleeve for it to ever work. You were clearly flustered way more from trying to lie than from waking up in his bed and such a fondness settled in him knowing that you trusted him so easily. You trusted that he had carried you here to help, that he would never have done anything to hurt you.

"Gaz would have carried you to your bed, but come to think of it there doesn't seem like any sort of bedroom in your shop."

Was he teasing to watch you scramble to try and explain yourself? Maybe a little, sue him.

"Oh right! It's in… the basement, it's in the basement."

You had a nanosecond of being relieved you had thought up a lie so quickly before being horrified at what a bad lie it was. What if they wanted to go into the non-existent basement now? But you had gotten away with it for now and you relaxed as Simon just nodded with an "Ah, of course, the basement".

Maybe you were good at this whole lying thing!

When it was time to get up and get a ride back home to the shop Simon got the little tub of eye black to smear on. You took it from him and started dabbing it on with your fingers for him since he had let you sleep in his bed.

"It's like finger painting" you grinned, sitting back to admire your work.

He took your hand in his before you could fully withdraw it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles that had the tips of your ears on fire. You gave him a wide eyed stare in question.

"Services/goods of equivalent value remember? This one was worth at least a few days of moving furniture."

You smiled shyly, thinking he meant applying the eye black for him. Simon let you think that, knowing himself that the payment he was taking was being able to press his lips to your skin.

You felt your lie was under attack when, after being driven back to your shop by Price with Soap in tow, they started talking about your basement as they helped you with all the dishes from the night before.

"Didn't you help with a lot of the building Soap? Going to have to give you extra observation training, missing a whole basement."

"Och Captain dinnae, ye know that training is the worst! I'll do better next time, ye'r spot on that it's unacceptable for me to miss something like that."

Oh the way you went dead silent while you scrubbed at a plate, clearly being eaten alive by guilt. It was cute up until you genuinely seemed in distress, and although it was fun to tease Johnny was thankful when Price laid off.

"Ah I'm only taking the piss Sergeant, easy thing to miss in an old place like this."

Some of the tension bled from your shoulders and oh if Soap didn't suddenly remember the little shy kiss you pressed to his cheek the night before. Such a sweet thing, genuinely getting upset at the idea he might have to do training because of a lie you told to protect yourself. As if him and Gaz didn't lie all the time to try and get one another in trouble just for the hell of it.

"Opening is in an hour aye? Think we could get a wee out of hours tea?" Soap asked.

You dried off your hands, smiling brightly now. Making tea always made you forget all your worries and you were wildly delighted that confessed coffee person Soap was the one asking. You went straight to work, grabbing and typing off your apron and throwing your hair up.

Price and Soap shared a conspiring look as they watched you work. They had gotten good at speaking without words. Right now their look was saying "isn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw? I think I might scream if she does one more cute thing."

With the tea steeping you sighed in contentment, jumping a little when Price's hand found the small of your back. You hadn't even realised he was so close, for such a big man he was so light on his feet! He tapped a finger to his cheek.

"Think helping wash one load of dishes works as equivalent value."

You popped onto your tip toes and planted a soft peck to his cheek and as Soap bounded forward for the same Price shoved him away with a grin.

"Got payment in advance last night if I recall Soap, can't have our favourite girl overpaying."

Price and Soap left just as you officially opened for the day, but to your soft delight already Horangi and Farah were waiting outside for the sign to be flipped. They were bundled up, must have walked over. Now that you knew the distance from here to the base it made you swell with pride to know they had made the trip on foot.

"Two of ye are here awful early naw?"

"Is there a problem with that MacTavish?" Horangi asked with a smirk, suspecting that the problem was Soap was about to leave you alone with him and Farah.

He had thought it would only be him, everyone else using their morning to work out and get fed. Obviously Farah had the same idea though, both of them feeling a sense of challenge from the other. He was sure you would like learning to make his Korean sweets over her Urzik ones.

"Course naw, always happy tae see paying customers for my girl here" he responded, clearly proud of himself for managing to find a subtle way to tell Horangi and Farah to back off because you were his.

Farah raised an eyebrow at Price when he smirked at Soap's little claim and his lip twitched slightly. The exchange was barely noticeable and yet the unspoken conversation had went something like this:

"Really John? She's a little young for you is she not?"

"Really Farah, what would Alex say?"

"Me and Alex have always been very good at sharing, ask Gaz."

"Don't remember you being this much of a brat Karim."

Farah thought it was a shame you had been subject to all these boorish men for so long. Soft, sweet thing like you deserved some soft and sweet companionship. She had hoped that she could get to know you while teaching you how to make the halva she had fed you bites of last night any time you had paused in your hectic running about to pour her tea.

You had been very complimentary of the simple sweet, wanting to know all about the cultural history of it. Farah was no stranger to the uncomfortable looks she got when she would pour her heart out about her passion for her home country. She had half expected you to nod politely and excuse yourself. Only you hadn't, you had been genuinely and unabashedly happy at how passionate she was about her home, eyes sparkling with interest as you made her promise that she'd visit again and tell you more.

Of course Hong-jin would be equally as fond of you, she had spied how he had made you try a bite of bukkumi and how he had cried laughing when it was chewier than you expected and you had bitten your tongue. That giant beside him had acted as if you were mortally wounded until you had calmed him down and Farah was observant if nothing else, she had seen how your easy way with the larger man had Hong-jin simmering with fondness.

Price and Soap realised they couldn't very well stay without it being obvious they were only doing so to stop Farah and Horangi from being left to work their charms on you, so with a grumble they departed.

You were honestly a little nervous about your first real customers after opening day, but you thought you did a great job of hiding it and welcoming them inside.

Farah and Horangi could both tell you were nervous, it was glaringly obvious, so an unspoken pact was made that they would only compete with each other in ways that you wouldn't notice so wouldn't make you anxious.

An hour later and you were so delighted that they had been kind enough and patient enough to teach you how to make the sweets they had bought the night before, oblivious to the amount of sabotage and subterfuge in the silent war between your two customers.

Still they did eventually have to admit defeat, they were due in meetings and couldn't stay forever. You squeaked and shook your head rapidly when they tried to pay for their drinks.

"Oh no please, you were both so wonderful to have shared your recipes with me! Think of this as payment for that."

"I already said I would teach you did I not? Of course I have to pay properly for the tea you made me."

“It would be very rude not to, I can pay for both of our teas.”

“No no, I can pay for both. After all you are technically a guest with the 141 aren't you?”

“As are you.”

“Oh I would say more a long distance member. Actually since this is so near the 141 base and you've been so good to the team, I'd say that makes you basically an honorary member!”

“Oh! That's such an honour for you to say Farah, it's more that the team has been good to me though” you explained in a rush, a pretty flush of colour dusting your cheeks.

“Ah but you also have adopted the little cat with us, so it makes you more a member of Kortac than anything else.”

“I think Herzogin adopted me, she just came in one day and decided to make herself at home and I couldn't say no” you said, now feeling so flustered there must be steam coming out of your ears.

There was something so touching about what they were saying even if it was light hearted and meant more as a joke you thought. Even the thought of somehow being a part of their lives, some little silly civilian branch of their teams, made your hummingbird heart flutter.

It was also very sweet how they both wanted to cover each others bill even though you really could not let them go unrewarded for teaching you their recipes. They must be quite close these two teams. Definitely not two people who had only properly met last night and were now locked in a bitter rivalry over you or anything.

“But regardless I need to repay you somehow for the lessons! Don't make me start pulling out a contract again” you laughed.

When they asked you explained about your hastily written contract with Soap, how it had kept expanding after that. You even showed them the copy as messy as it was.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so.

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**and any members of the Los Vaqueros team***

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed”

It didn't feel much like a contract anymore what with Simon's messy scrawl and the massive pen stroke from when Soap had shoved Rudy as he was trying to add his addendum. But it always made you smile to look at.

You thought your heart might burst when they both very reverently take turns adding their own addendums on.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so.******

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**along with any members of the Los Vaqueros team***

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141*****

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed

*****including Farah Karim and Alex Keller who shall be deemed members TF141 for the purposes of this contract.******

*****Any works or services carried out by members of Kortac PMC (inclusive of Herzogin) are to be subject to the same terms of payment as above.”

After that they both paid in full for all the tea meaning you were left blustering about the double payment. And when before they left they pressed a kiss to your cheek, sandwiching you between them for a moment, you were sure you have melted right into the floor.

“That's your debt settled for the recipe” Farah teased as her and Horangi left.

–

You spent the day warmed by the smattering of visitors. Some drove out, some made the trip on foot, Gaz stopped by in the middle of his run and the sight of him shirtless and sweaty made you scald yourself when you accidentally overpoured and splashed hot tea over your hand.

“Ouch luv, c'mere and let me see” he said, immediately taking your hand delicately in both of his strong ones to do a quick inspection and then leading you over to the sink to run it under cold water.

“It's not that bad” you hissed as the water hit, it was freezing and you were really just trying to get out of having to hold it there for 10 minutes.

“Hush, don't know how deep it's went so need to make sure it cools down properly.”

You didn't feel like you were cooling down with his naked torso right there beside you, one hand still holding yours and the other resting absentmindedly on your waist. All of these customers of yours really would be the death of you.

You huffed a little and stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he was right but not liking it one bit. He laughed at you and gave you a light little headbutt into your hair, the easy affection making you smile despite yourself. You smiling made him smile and it was as always like looking at the sun when this man smiled. So much so you did not even hear the door go until you were crowded by another body, the new arrival slotting against your other side in a mirror of Gaz and sighing.

“What happened here then princess?”

Gaz narrowed his eyes at Alex albeit playfully at the pet name, feeling his pinky brush again his hand now also settling in on you.

“Ah just clumsy! Not a very good omen to be spilling tea on the second day huh?”

“You know Ghost and Soap once got so drunk they passed out on the sofa and we found them all tangled up the next morning, said they must have moved in their sleep.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva at that, blinking up at Alex who was only grinning back at you.

“There now, we've both spilled tea, so I can take all the bad omens off of you.”

Goddamnit, Kyle always forgot how stupidly handsome and charming Keller was. Even being right in your space shirtless, having been meticulous in his work out this morning to ensure his body would look just right to get you flustered, you weren't even looking at him anymore. Too busy giving a soft smile to the American playboy. Well if you can't beat them…

You jumped when you felt Kyle's breath right at your ear. He had leaned over a little to join the conversation but it meant he was even closer than before and it was suddenly very, very warm.

“Just to make sure though, Keller here will deny it ever happened but he once kissed a man right in front of his girlfriend! Right scandalous if you ask me. How's that for tea?”

“i-in front of your girlfriend?!” you asked, somewhat in shock that this man who had been nothing but sweet to you was a cheater.

“As I recall, my girlfriend was the one that put in the request” he laughed, seeing your look of suspicion and softening. “I promise she was happy about it princess, we've always been open to sharing.”

Him and Gaz shared a look then, both obviously noticing that you were probably about to faint from the no doubt tame (scandalous in your head) images the idea of sharing was conjuring. While it was very endearing the way you reacted, the thump thump thumping of your heart almost perceptible, they couldn't find it within themselves to tease you more. Sweet little thing like you deserved better.

“Come on luv, let's get it dried off and wrapped up.”

Kyle lifted your hand away from the cold water and you realised they had completely distracted you from the discomfort. You wondered if it had been on purpose as he took you over to one of the stools and made you sit while Alex fished out the first aid box.

“Oh, how did you know where that was?”

“Military princess, reckon about everyone scoped out the exits, fire extinguisher and first aid kit last night. Laswell had me order some safety signs for express delivery, should arrive today actually.”

“Oh I didn't even think! How much did it cost? I’ll pay you for them straight away.”

Kyle sighed as he wrapped your hand, knowing exactly what was about to happen and not able to think of one reason to stop it. Besides, it's not like he didn't think you and Alex looked cute together and he didn't even bother to hide his grin of disbelief at how outrageous Keller was when he caressed your face.

“Farah said we could get a kiss in payment as long as it was an equivalent value. Would a kiss be OK princess?”

You didn't really remember nodding even though you had, but you were pretty sure you'd remember Alex Keller pressing a heart achingly soft kiss to your lips as long as you lived. You felt like your brain was flowing with syrup when he laughed lightly and fondly after kissing you, like he was happy he got to do it.

“Medical fees as well luv, yeah?”

And then you were nodding and Kyle Garrick was kissing you while Alex still had one hand on your cheek and everything was a little too hot and overwhelming.

Thankfully both men were merciful and didn't mention it when you blinked back into consciousness from fainting onto the counter. If Gaz had had to scream into Alex's shoulder because of how adorable he found it, well they didn't mention that either.

–

You were in trouble now. Kate Laswell was giving you a look that you were sure meant she could read your mind.

“You're not in trouble, but you need to tell me the truth. Why were you staying at the base last night?”

Of course Laswell knew, she knew everything about everyone. You were the kind of soft she knew it was easy for hard soldiers to love, but if she thought for a second that one of the 141 had taken you to bed last night she was inclined to use them for shooting practice. You had been dead on your feet after opening day, not in any fit state for clandestine meetings.

Plus she felt protective over you, maybe a little possessive. You reminded her fiercely of her wife and she had already called her last night to tell her about you, suggesting they make the time to visit together when work was less hectic for her.

“Oh I-” you paused, desperately hoping you were not going to get anyone into trouble but itching to tell this woman the truth, “they found me asleep in one of the chairs so instead of waking me they let me use one of the beds. It was my fault for falling asleep where I did! They were just being kind.”

“Why didn’t the move you to your own bed?” Kate asked with a long suffering sigh. It would be just like the 141 to jump to the extreme option.

“It's um, they didn't know where it was.”

Kate had scoped out the place last night without crossing a line into snooping, but she had thought the door next to the stove would be a bedroom. The boys would have known that though, Price said Riley and MacTavish had helped a lot with construction and moving furniture. So either she was really going to have to leather them for taking you back to base when your bed was right there, or the room was a storage space.

“And where is that?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you sleep?”

“Oh hang on, I'll get you another cup!”

Kate watched you stumble away with the poor excuse of getting the pot to pour another cup of tea for her. Her teacup was still half full. And she was indeed going to have to skin the 141 alive. How did it take them so long to figure out that you didn’t have a proper place to sleep? The quiet fury she felt at thinking how long you had been curling up on one of the chairs surprised her for only a moment before she let it settle in. Kate Laswell had always been very good at quickly identifying who she considered her people and her knack of it hadn’t let her down yet.

“How long have you been sleeping here?”

You froze as you were reaching for the teapot.

“I-i the basement? Since I got the place.”

Kate was well aware there was not a basement, not unless there was a magical hidden hatch to it. Even if she hadn’t been 99% certain, the fact that you were the worst liar she had ever encountered and the look of alarm she saw on Alejandro’s face as he slid through the door gave her assurance she was right. The question at this point was how to gentle you into telling her what was going on and why you didn’t have somewhere to sleep. She wished her wife were here, between the two of them she was more the people person.

“Try again cariño, there is no basement in this building.”

Your ruse was rapidly falling apart with Alejandro now here as well. You had been so sure you had gotten away with it as well, and you were just stuck to the spot gaping trying to get your brain to come up with some sort of excuse.

“Well um, I know I said basement but I- the thing is maybe it’s just a plan to have a basement. Right. That’s what I meant, that I’m going to put in a basement and have a bed there. Yeah. And that means that right now I don’t have one. A basement I mean, or uh, yeah a bed. But it’s totally fine, that chair by the fire is super comfortable and it’s not that bad for my back and Herzogin likes being able to curl in my lap anyway and actually I really like it because the blanket would be a little too small if I was all stretched out anyway and-”

Alejandro had known you long enough to see when your brain was absolutely catching fire. It was one of the things he loved because he knew he was always able to calm you down and it made him feel overwhelmingly content whenever he did. Right now though he at least wished your brain was catching fire over something small like offering him a new type of tea or short circuiting when Rudy had poured water over himself to cool down in the summer (Ale had nearly throttled him, little shit had known what he was doing) and not over something that made him want to smuggle you home to Mexico and make sure you never wanted for anything ever again.

He could put aside his own feelings right now though, walking over and enveloping you in a warm hug, squeezing just the right amount to make your words trail off and your brain slow down now that it felt safe and comfortable. You clung to him almost instantly, burying your head in his chest and fighting tears. You were so embarrassed to be caught, it made you feel like you couldn’t look after yourself at all.

It wasn’t that you had meant for it to all work out this way, but you were chasing a dream and you sort of came second to that. Last night you had finally made it and it had been better than you ever dared hope, it had been beyond perfect. You hadn’t even thought to include your own comfort in that dream of yours, and now when you really thought about how you had been living it all caught up and made you feel awful and exhausted.

“There come on now, it’s ok” Alejandro said softly, leaning a cheek against your hair and sharing a look with Kate, “we’re going to make sure you’re looked after ok? Just until we can sort something a little more permanent out for you.”

“I couldn’t, I don’t… I just need a little time to save up and I can get stuff” you sniffled, doing your best to keep it together.

You were fully out of money, last night had made a small fortune but that needed to go towards overdue bills and restocking. It was enough that you would be in the clear at least, and then you could actually start saving if you managed to make any profit. You wanted to say you could survive a few more cold nights, but now that it had finally hit you, that you had spent a night in a warm, cosy bed, you didn’t know that you could.

Alejandro just hushed soothingly at you, petting your hair and letting you cry it out. He knew for a fact Kate was taking advantage of knowing he would not do anything right now that was not solely with the purpose of your comfort in mind, he could see her typing away on her phone and glancing at him as if to say “I’m going to make sure she’s looked after, but it’s nice that you can distract her while I do that I suppose.”

Would he say he was happy when Nikolai showed up to whisk you off to a B&B for the night? Mixed feelings really. He was happy that you would spend the night safe and warm nearby. He was furious it wasn’t going to be with him. And then that vanished when he melted fully to a puddle as you darted quickly back after locking up and saying goodbye to them to nervously press a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s in the contract that I should repay you for things. I hope this works to repay you for being so kind to me.”

If Kate’s snort of amusement at his scream into his hands after you had left was anything to go by, it worked far too well.

–

“We only have a double room left, will that be ok sir?”

Nikolai had taken one look at you all cried out and sniffling outside that tea shop and decided there and then that he was going to feed you the largest meal of your life and then tuck you into a nice, warm bed and let you sleep for as long as you wanted. If he had known when he got the message from Price about the tea shop opening that you were the little thing behind the Captain and Gaz calling in all their favours he would have told the general he was flying to a critical mission to walk so he could attend.

As it was he had been on his way to visit and apologise for not making it when he had gotten the message from Kate that she was giving him a new assignment. He didn’t know the full background, he did know that the 141 was in big trouble whatever had happened. Not his problem, he was focused on you.

He had teased that he was going to fly you out of there at first and you had about passed away on the spot before he scrambled to tell you he was joking. The B&B wasn’t too far, it was in the nearest little village an hours walk from the teashop in the opposite direction of the base. You told him you were ok to walk and he had scooped you onto his back anyway, let you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder as you chatted away about anything and everything.

Your attempts at learning some Russian was adorable, trying to wrap your tongue around the words he would give you before even asking what they meant (he had gotten you to say ‘I am very cute’ perfectly and then told you it meant ‘thank you’, so delighted when you said it frequently that it overrode the guilt at being so duplicitous about it. He’d tell you one day. Maybe).

“Of course, double is perfect.”

Not that you would protest given that you were fast asleep on his back now, the weight of your head on his shoulder comforting. You deserved the rest he imagined, he had gotten pictures from Price of the opening. It wasn’t easy to have so many big personalities in one place, much less have them all vying for your attention. He took great glee knowing that every single one would be chewing glass when they found out he had you all to himself right now.

You woke up when you were put down onto the bed, blearily blinking as you tried to work out your new surroundings. It was a cosy little room, the bed you were on was like a marshmallow with the perfect firm to squishy ratio and Nikolai who you had come to like very much in the last hour was laying out a frankly disgusting amount of room service onto the little table, so much of it that you could see some had already needed to be put on the vanity.

It was wonderful to exist in a sleepy, happy haze as you ate your weight in comforting pub food, soaked in the bath he had run for you and then fell into bed. Only there was only one bed. And he was already settling himself in the armchair and putting on reading glasses that made him look adorable to start one of the little romcoms from the tiny library in the foyer. In truth Nikolai was more inclined to share, but he knew that even the act of asking you would put pressure on you. He knew a people pleaser when he saw one.

“...the bed is big enough for you as well. Would it be ok if we shared?”

Well he hadn’t expected you to be the one asking him and it took him by surprise enough that he put down his book and just blinked at you for a moment, brain short circuiting and answering in Russian instead with a heartfelt speech about how he did not want you to feel you had to offer and how he would love to hold you if you’d let him because you seemed like you should always be held and if he got to be the one to do that for only one night he would be so grateful for the trust you had given him.

You had no clue what this handsome man was saying, but it sounded nice. You hoped you hadn’t overstepped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I… have a bit of a contract with the 141. It’s for services and goods of equivalent value when they help me out. And you’ve helped me out a lot tonight so I know sharing the bed isn’t exactly, well I mean it’s really your bed, so I should be the one in the chair really, so it’s not me repaying you at all to share it” you rambled, very sleepy from the abundance of food and the warm bath.

“Oh lapposhychka, it is no wonder I got such warm messages from the Captain” Nikolai sighed, seeing how a light blush dusted across your nose when you got yourself worked up about a problem. “I do not want you to make yourself uncomfortable because you think to repay me with it.”

You brought the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose to hide your little shy smile, feeling somehow like you could tell him the truth that you could never say out loud to anyone else.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I was the one who wrote it down to be vague just incase… people wanted to be creative with interpretation.”

Nikolai took a moment to understand and then laughed so loudly that you could hear the neighbours laughing at his boisterous laugh. He was happy to slide into bed beside you then and you were using his chest as a pillow and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. When you tried to thank him in Russian he only laughed lightly and hugged you as you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

–

“Open bonnie.”

You automatically opened your mouth to let Soap feed you another bite of pastry, eyes not leaving the accounts you were pouring over. Johnny wasn’t complaining at how concentrated you were, not when it meant you had let yourself be hand fed by him after being manoeuvred into Simon’s lap. It was almost enough to make up for his plans being ruined to offer you his bedroom after Kate and Alejandro (and then very swiftly via Rudy’s big mouth everyone) had found out about your sleeping arrangements.

You had been back to open the next morning and were going over what it would cost to stay in the B&B and build an extension versus the cost of just renting or getting a mortgage on a place in the village. Him and Simon had shared several looks to the tune of “we are going to need to get it into her pretty head somehow that we can pay for everything and actually wouldn’t it be easier for her to always have access to everything she needed if she married one of us?” and then getting into an argument about who that should be.

It was idyllic and wonderful and then of course Simon had to be Simon and have an admirer who was jealousy pawing at the beautiful thing in his lap.

“Oh! Ah Herzogin, I’m so sorry, I’ve taken your space haven’t I?” you said with a little scritch behind her ears as you stood and stretched.

Immediately the cat was up in Simon’s lap and purring aggressively, making biscuits into his thigh. The look between him and Johnny then was more to the tune of:

“Jesus Si dae ye have tae be such a bloody cat magnet?”

“Well what do you want me to do Johnny? Shove König’s cat onto the floor?”

“Wait… wait we need tae steal König’s cat.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well if we want tae have her pick us…”

The unspoken conversation did not make it much further because you were asking if they wanted a drink. Johnny ordered an Irish coffee, Simon ordered an earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey.

“Oh, you mean a L-” you started, Simon looking at you like he may commit homicide if you said the words ‘London Fog’ to refer to his drink order.

“Llllllarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey,” you finally said, desperately improvising.

“A large, yes sweetheart” he said with a grin that nearly knocked you unconscious anytime you saw it on his unmasked face. “Although I’ll take payment for looking after the cat just now.”

While one hand was scritching at said cat he used the other to grab your waist and pull you closer, tilting his head up and smirking. Honestly he had mostly expected you to blush brightly and if he was very lucky kiss his cheek, so when you leaned down and pressed your lips to his beautifully gently the scariest solider the SAS had ever seen was reduced to blushing brightly himself.

Soap was only too eager to remind you of his services of feeding you bites of food so you wouldn’t simply waste away while you were working and your bravery only stretched so far to give him a quick peck before fleeing to the kitchen absolutely ablaze to make the coffee and London Fogarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey.

–

It had been less of a fight than you thought for you to stay in the shop. Price had insisted they get you an air mattress and a proper duvet at least, but they had all been respectful of your wishes even if not happy about it when you had said you really would be ok. They were already doing so much now that you had decided to build an extension instead of renting or buying somewhere else (you loved this place so much, you didn’t want to be so far away). Already they were grumbling about contractors and how they’d do a bad job so you may as well let them do it and honestly? A little part of you felt like this was as much their baby as it was yours, so you were warmed that they wanted to help.

And you were also warmed by how they had listened. They hadn’t overruled you like you were worried they might, they had just made sure that you were safe and as comfortable as possible. Mind you their idea of safe was overkill (the locks on the door they had installed in record time were something out of a sci-fi movie and more often than not the past few weeks you had not been alone on that air mattress in the shop), but you still felt so listened to and respected in your own right.

This was the first evening in the last 5 you had spent just you and Herzogin. Well just you since she had slinked out to go cause mischief somewhere no doubt. You were honestly a little relieved when there was a knock at the door, feeling a little strange being alone now as you got up, jumped through hoops to unlock all the security protocols and opened the door.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

You did not know the American on your doorstep in the torn skull balaclava, but you could see he had been beaten badly.

“Who did this to you?” was spilling out of you as you reached out your arms to him to try to take some of his weight since he was slumped against the doorway.

“If I told you that I’d have to kill you sweetheart” he said, somehow managing to sound condescending even though he was hissing the words through gritted teeth.

It was probably a strange thing to think, but he reminded you of Simon. Something about the way he held himself, the way he handled this situation. The pet name. Maybe it was some transferred fondness that had you taking as much of his weight as you could handle and stumbling inside with him, dropping him on the sofa (a new addition thanks to Nik) and rushing over to get the first aid box that thankfully had been upgraded to a full military grade mini medic bay by Kate and Farah.

“I mean you could try, but you’re not looking so hot” you said, bringing the kit over and kneeling by the sofa to try and figure out the worst of the damage.

“Ouch sweetheart, never had anyone tell me I don’t look hot on a first date.”

Oh this man was ridiculous, but at least if he was flirting he was probably not dying.

“What can I say, high standards.”

You felt his eyes scrutinising you as you checked him over. You had trained in first aid before you had even bought this place, knowing that it would be legally required but also that morally you could not have people in your premises without knowing you could look after them. Not that your customers generally needed looking after. Even the ancient book club that had started coming in from the village on Sunday afternoons were tough as old nails.

“You’ve not called anyone.”

“Well I’m assuming you don’t want an ambulance involved, and I wanted to at least be able to say how bad you were before calling someone else.”

“Who are you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters.”

He laughed and you hissed at him to stop when it clearly put him in more pain to do so. Poor Nik had been so proud when he had arrived with this sofa, had really been gloating to everyone about how you had reacted by launching yourself at him in a hug, and the chances of the blood stains ever coming out were very slim.

“And if I asked you not to?”

You looked at his eyes to find them staring back at you, almost in challenge. This guy sure was a piece of work, but you really wanted him to be ok. As you tried to pack the stab wound (you thought at least) with gauze, you mused that maybe this time somebody might owe you and not the other way around.

“Then I’d wait until you passed out and then call him when you couldn’t say no if I asked.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. Oh. That was not something you were going to be exploring while your hands were covered in blood. You just levelled him with a glare that very much screamed ‘behave yourself’ and grabbed your phone to call Simon. He answered on the second ring.

–

You know when you really sat down to reflect, your life had gotten so strange. Fake dating König because some wildly charming man called Graves had called you “little darlin’” and that was apparently a security threat, having to smack Soap with one of those squeaky toy hammers any time he scratched at his stitches after coming back fully banged up from a mission, having to referee a tricycle race between Ale and Valeria (your first time meeting her had been wild in and of itself), mediating the all out war between the book club made up of 80+ year olds and the 141.

One thing you could say for sure though when Price took your blind fold off to reveal the brand new extension finished with the absolute cosiest living space you could ever have wanted is that you were incredibly happy. It was a strange family that you found yourself in, but with that now almost illegible from all the additions contract proudly on the wall of your teashop, you found that it suited you just fine.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod #cod au #tf 141 x reader #cod x reader #fluff #everyone x reader #I am too lazy to tag all the relationships because it would take FOREVER #keegan x reader #nikolai x reader #jamming all of the fluff tropes in actually #as a treat to myself

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undercoverpena · 6 months

Text

the angel + the devil

javier peña x f!reader | halloween fic for late night texts

summary: “You may be dressed like that,” he says, dropping his voice “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

chapter warnings: bonus chapter to late night texts, although you can still enjoy without reading. fluff. halloween costumes. reader does wear a dress and heels. javi flirting. office party vibes. sexy talk, alluding to smut, but no actual smut or anything (similar to most of the chapters in the series) romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 2.4k

an: i still cant believe how beloved this little series is. i hope you like this little hallow-shot of my fave pairing.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Don’t forget tonight is my works halloween party, if you’re still coming.

i haven’t forgotten baby

You say that but you forgot to bring milk the other day.

you told me you was wearing my shirt, naked

Thought high-pressured situations were your bag, baby.

well you do always know the way to bring me to my knees

Pocketing his wallet and keys, Javi stares up at your work building.

He’s picked you up from work plenty of times, but he’s never been inside. Not like this, anyway.

Over breakfast, dinners and more since the two of you have been dating—and then living together—he’s managed to collect snippets of information.

Been able to make collages from the pieces you hand him—a picture board with ribbons and string connecting things, concocting an image of what things must look like. From the place the copier is to what your desk looks like.

Tonight, he’ll get to see it himself. He’ll have the chance to see the photo strip from Houston there, a little cactus plant you’d named Randy and a set of trays (all filled with paperwork) that he’d helped you find in town.

The rest though, was blank. All fuzzy in his mind.

A puzzle, one needing to be solved.

It’s why his finger and thumb brush against themselves as he steps through the doors, the instructions you’d given him illuminated on his phone. It’s easy enough, especially with the decorations up the stairs, hearing himself being called to by the distinct sound of the Monster Mash that is floating to his ears, guiding him to you.

Maybe, he should have texted to say he was here.

You’d be waiting for him then. Likely hovering at the doorway, looking somewhat lost and nervous—it brings back memories of scribbled-out signs and bubbling apprehension at the airport.

But, if anything, that’s why he doesn't text—doesn’t announce or tell you he’s parked up and climbing the staircase two at a time to see you.

Because Javi wants to see you, capture a sight of you across the room, and give you another romantic moment to add to the ones that make the both of you so “movie-like”.

Except, as soon as he steps through the last doorway, and his eyes land on you, he realises the moment isn’t for you, but rather for him.

His stomach flutters, fingers halting in their previous nervousness, stretching out as his head tilts. He takes you in—trails his eyes from the heel of your white shoes to the nervous finger-tapping you’re doing on the red cup, before he reaches your face—flecks of glitter, painted lips.

And fuck are you pretty.

You’re more than an angel. You’re something else entirely.

Ethereal, captivating, irresistible.

The mere sight of you making his throat dry and his heart quicken all over again, just like it had done outside that airport. Just like you had done from the first text to the see you later you left him with this morning.

He pinches his thigh, just lightly—because again, he’s left with the thought, the realisation: you chose him.

A reminder that is forever there. One he normally buries in gratitude against your lips, or clutches your hand—

You tiring from an ex-DEA agent yet, cariño?

Not even a little bit, handsome.

You’d chosen him because of text messages, fallen for him because of phone calls, and fell further in a hotel room miles away. Him doing the same, re-falling each day all over again due to moments he never thought he’d get to enjoy.

Simple things, like you sewing a jacket on his Pop’s coat to the way you listened when he finally told you everything that happened in Colombia. Your face not shifting, not until the end, not until you ended up in his lap telling him how proud you were of him.

Something he believed.

Somehow, though, a small part of him still expects this to be a dream. A cruel joke from life, because you’re way too good to be true. You’re nothing but kind, generous. Doing everything to remind him continuously how much he deserves you. That he’s good, worthy, amazing.

He’s about to clear his throat, announce his arrival, when your laugh dies at something one of your colleagues says. Then, he watches in slowed time how your eyes sweep—a thing he suspects you’ve been doing since way before he arrived—before landing right on him.

It forces his heart to skip.

A smile, different than the one you’d given to your colleague, spreads and flowers across your face—the fairy and ceiling lights not holding a candle to the way it brightens up the room.

He finds himself mirroring it, letting it unfold, grow, spread, sliding up into his cheeks as he watches you excuse yourself, placing your cup down on a desk before you rush over to him.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Look at you, angel.”

His fingers slide across his jaw, half-tempted to ask you to twirl—witness how the white dress skims your knees, trailing his eyes up and down, drinking you in all over again.

If you mind, you say nothing, although he imagines your cheeks will be warm if he touches them. Your eyes dropping, fingers moving, sliding to adjust the straps of your feathered wings, before touching up the headband with your halo attached—the one he’d watched you glue the other night, tongue out, teeth perched near the tip.

“I’m glad you came.”

“You asked, cariño. Por supuesto que vendría por ti.”

Shrugging, you smile, shifting on your feet. “I know, but you still came, dressed as… wait—what are you dressed as?”

Putting his palms up at the side of him, he grins. His head dips, eyes following your path over his dark jeans and red shirt, as his fingers slide to his back pocket—pulling out a headband with little horns on, placing it on top of his head.

“A devil.”

“Of course,” you say, sliding your arms around his neck. “Very fitting.”

Smirking, he traces his teeth with his tongue, letting you stare at him in the same way he had been you, until you move closer, sliding your arms around his neck. Basking in the way you kiss him, so softly—almost innocently—but with a hidden agenda underneath you can’t display too much of in the centre of your workplace.

But, he still feels the tip of your tongue sweep over his bottom lip—even if to others it’s just a chaste kiss. He knows that in the back of your throat, there had been a little hum growing—the one he pulls from you when he greets you at home, when the decision to eat or “nap” first arises.

“You may be dressed like that,” he whispers, dropping his voice, mouth to your ear as he hugs you. “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

Stepping back, he watches as his words force your lips to part. You battle a smirk, toying with it, chewing it, before displaying an eye roll.

Then, Javi feels you slide your hand into his, bodies so close to being flush, your breath doing a dance over his jaw and neck.

“I think we can make it dirtier. Can’t we?”

Pausing, he tilts his head, brow arching—watching you just smirk, far more devilish than angelic.

And, Javi suddenly wishes his jeans weren’t as tight as they are.

where have you gone, one of your colleagues is eyeing me up

Well, maybe you should try being less good looking.

funny

I’ll be one second, got caught coming out the bathroom by someone from finance.

do you need rescuing

You gonna throw me over your shoulder?

if i do that i’ll be carrying you home

This is why you’re the devil and I’m the angel, my thoughts are pure.

if I put my fingers between your thighs i bet your body says otherwise

Javi!

Handing him a cup, you tap yours against his, shooting a wink.

He doesn’t miss the way you eye him—not at all in a way different to the one he’d been getting from your colleague earlier.

“¿Te estás divirtiendo?"

Sliding closer to him, you press a kiss on his cheek. Angling yourself, the front of your dress moving, shifting, forcing his eyes to drop to where some of the glitter has fallen across your collarbone and cleavage.

“Such a bad girl.”

Smirking, you take a sip. “Angels don’t just fall from heaven for anything, or anyone, Javi.”

There’s a retort brewing—readying on the tip of his tongue—but someone approaches. A snort escapes you before they call your name.

He’d met so many of the people he’s heard things about—having been able to stitch faces to names, to hear their actual voice, and not the one you adopt when you’re telling him stories about your day. But this person's name doesn’t come to him with ease, nodding, agreeing it was lovely to meet them too.

Javi listens to you wish them a good weekend, hugging them, your wings brushing against his side as you do.

Then, the two of you are alone once again.

The whole night, between speaking to people, the two of you have traded in whispered angel and devil jokes—deviousness coming to him with ease, your eyes sparkling, somewhat twinkling as you hear each of them. Sometimes, your retorts silence him, rendering him useless—forcing you to slide more in front of him, his fingers digging into your hip.

Fuck, he wants you on his lap now.

More so, as the punch thins out and the party dwindles—some excusing themselves for home, for better offers or fraternisation with other departments—and the two of you are left him to a corner.

We can go soon. If you want?

Your eyes meet his, hands stroking up and down his arm—soothing, calming, genuinely wanting him to choose.

We can go whenever you want.

The two of you standing, his hip flush with yours, the scent of your perfume doing a swirl in his nose, watching as you smirk against your cup.

It’s hard not to feel that familiar surge inside him as he watches your lips. Because he never tires of you, is never bored of just admiring and observing.

“What you thinking about, cariño?”

The look you shoot him is one of pretend innocence. He can tell. He’s become an expert in you—both in the subtle shifts in your expressions and the way your body talks to him.

“Just thinking, that if I’d thought about it more, you could have come as a pencil and I could be your crossword,” you smile. “Y’could have spent the evening filling me in then.”

He’s mid-drinking when it hits him, making him choke, and splutter.

Your smirk rises as you bring the cup to your lips. “Two can play that game, Peña.”

“Touché, baby.”

For a moment, he lets you be smug.

Let it grace across your features, teeth peering out, eyes twinkling under the unflattering fluorescent light—that you still manage to look stunning under.

“Or, I could have come as a vampire,” you continue, eyes averting, a smirk desperate to grow, “I am really good at sucking.”

He almost crunches the cup, his head tilting, eyes burning into you as his brain fills with thoughts—ones that almost ravage him. Smother over the purer ones he keeps forcing himself to manifest, innocent things he’s yanked up so he doesn’t get a hard-on in the middle of your work office party.

Because you’re dressed as a fucking angel.

“Did you want to see my desk, baby?”

“Is it far?”

Shaking your head, you drain your cup, placing the empty in a nearby trash bin as you offer your hand. Leading, guiding him, pointing out little things that offer some clarification to stories he’s listened attentively to when the two of you have eaten.

“It’s just in here,” you announce, pointing to a closed door before the two of you enter.

As soon as the door clicks shut, his palm is against the wall—caging you in, his body close. Your laugh light, airy, brushing over his face as your fingers slide up his cheeks.

The two of you are flush, but not so harshly against the wall to crush your wings. He wants them intact, needs them to be there later.

“You like my costume, baby?”

He groans, tightening his grip on your waist. The light from the hallway splays across your face—illuminating your eyes as you stare up at him. Noticing the usual flecks of lust and need that swirl whenever the two of you are like this.

“You thinking innocent thoughts, cariño?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Your fingers tangling into his hair, his hips light in their efforts to press you against the wall. The air tightening, anticipation building, and building. It all layering, more so as his fingers drop, tracing under the hem of your dress.

His lips curl, the tip of his tongue dragging across his lower lip. “I like your office.”

“Bring back memories for you?”

Snorting, he grins. “No. I didn’t… I didn’t do that.”

“You want to?”

He considers it. More so when your lips slant back across his, when you whimper lightly when the kiss deepens.

Javi traces his finger over your thigh, half-tempted to slide it further up, skate it over whatever fabric you’ve chosen to wear between your thighs.

But he stops himself, halts.

Instead, he slides his fingers back under your chin, tilting it up. “Rather take you home. To our home.”

He watches as your smile curls up, lips pursing, eyes flicking down before meeting his. “Take me home then.”

Your fingers lightly flutter along his cheek, the top of your nails scraping gently against his skin, into the hair above his ears.

“Not to be a devils advocate, but we don’t have to wait until we get home, do he?”

Smirking, he lets a soft laugh exit under his breath.

“Seven letters,” you whisper, teasing his hair in your fingers, “Highest point.”

He kisses you. Pressing his smirk against your lips, feeling yours emerge as he does.

“You’re a real fallen angel, aren’t you?”

Snorting, you slant your mouth over his, likely wanting one more before the sea of goodbyes and see you in a week have to be said.

“Fallen straight into you, though. No regrets from me,” you add.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, Javi mumbles, “Not from me either.” Hands sliding around your waist, stealing another moment. “Need you to keep the halo on.”

Tilting your head, you pull from his lips. Breaths dancing, shared between the two of you.

“Wanna see how long it takes until I can fuck it off your head, cariño.”

Grinning, your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. The slightest of head shakes. “Think you knocked the real one off my head ages ago—when you made me moan your name down the phone.”

an: if you have any ideas of what our pairing can get up to, let me know. i can't promise I'll always write them, but you never know.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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w2nv · 4 months

Text

EVERY EPISODE SO FAR THAT DOESNT END WITH “GOODNIGHT, NIGHT VALE. GOODNIGHT”

SO I finished the list today! This list includes any variation of the phrase, episodes where he just doesn’t say it although present, and episode where he doesn’t say it because he’s not present. I decided to mark colour code them as a result!

• variation, • no goodnight, • no Cecil

Before I start:

I did not include extra episodes like snippets from the lives shows and such.

For the quotes here I only took the final phrase. So anything that breaks the usual scheme like a lack of “stay tuned next” or any lengthy monologue about anything relating to the goodnight phrase, I didn’t quote

I’m thinking about making a video compilation later on but for now I DONT have the space to dowload all these episodes so this will do for now!

If I missed any, lmk!

———————————————————————————

• 1 — Pilot

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 2 — Glow Cloud

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 3 — Station Management

Good night, Night Vale. And goodbye.

• 4 — PTA Meeting

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 5 — The Shape in Grove Park

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 6 — The Drawbridge

Buenas noches, Night Vale. Good night.

• 7 — History Week

And, from this moment in history, the one that’s happening right now, good night.

• 8 — The lights in Radon Canyon

It is a good night, listeners. Good night.

• 9 — “PYRAMID”

Speaking of the nighttime, I truly hope you have a good one, Night Vale. Goodnight.

• 10 — Feral Dogs

Get your sleep, Night Vale. And don’t forget to dream. Good Night.

• 14 — The Man in the Tan Jacket

Good night, Night Vale. Be alert, and write down everything you cannot comprehend. Until next time.

• 15 — Street Cleaning Day

Good night. Good night. Good night.

• 19B — The sandstorm

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.

• 46 — Parade day

And until next time, Good Night, Night Va- Hey. Hey. No. What are you-

• 47 — Company Picnic

Kevin: And, as always, until next time, Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area. Until next time.

• 49A — Old Oak Doors (Part A)

Listeners, there is someone knocking on my station door, which must mean…Carlos? Carlos, is that you? Come in, and welcome home, my sweet Car…

• 53 — The September Monologues

Well, that's it for the September Monologues. We've said so much. What more is there to say?

• 65 — Voicemails

Kevin: Until next time, Cecil. Until next time.

• 67 — [Best Of?]

Leonard Burton: And as always "See ya, Night Vale. See ya."

• 70A — Taking Off

Kevin: Until next time, new Desert Bluffs, until next time. Oh. Oh no. This is so sad. No. I don’t like this. I am sad. No. No.

• 85 — The April Monologues

And so we reach the end of the April Monologues. There is much that could be said. I will say none of it.

• 86 — Standing and Breathing

Good night, Night Vale. (Maybe lock those windows too.) Good night.

• 87 — The Trial of Hiram McDaniels

Good night. I guess.

• 88 — Things Fall Apart

Hello? [very faint breathing] Hello? [very faint breathing] Who is this? [distant dog bark]

• 89 — Who’s a good boy? (Part 1)

“I want nothing, Cecil. Nothing at all. And I will have it.” Huff huff huff. Huff huff Huff.

• 94 — All Right

All right Night Vale. Good night.

• 98 — Flight

Good night.

• 100 — Toast

Good night, Night Vale, and every person who can hear my voice. Good night.

• 101 — Guidelines for Retrieval

Happy purging, Night Vale. And goodnight.

• 104 — The Hierarchy of Angels

Good night, Night Vale. Josie was beautiful. And angels are real. Good night.

• 109 — A Story About Huntokar

Huntokar: Good night, my Night Vale. Good night.

• 111 — Summer 2017, Night Vale, USA

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 113 — Niecelet

Any second now. Any second. Any... second.

• 120 — All Smiles’ Eve

Lauren: Good night, Kevin. And good night, Desert Bluffs Too.

Kevin: Good night.

• 128 — A Matter of Blood (Part 2)

Oh god, it’s here.

• 133 — Are You Sure?

Is this the first time you’ve heard me say this? Are you sure? Welcome to Night Vale.

• 135 — The Mudstone Abyss (Part 1)

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.

• 136 — The Mudstone Abyss (Part 2)

Charles: Kevin. I. Handlebar cereal, okay? Handlebar cereal.

VM: End of message.

• 137 — The Mudstone Abyss (Part 3)

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.

• 148 — The Broadcaster

Leonard Burton: And until tomorrow, "See ya, Night Vale. See ya."

• 156 — The Trouble with Time

Listeners. I must go. I must talk to my husband. We can be together forever, don’t you see? A new world awaits us in the future. I must talk to Carlos. I must.

• 157 — The Promise of Time

Kasper: Believe in a smiling god, buddy. Believe in a smiling god.

• 164 — The Faceless Old Woman (Live)

FOW: And I will be seeing you very, very… soon.

• 171 — Go To The Mirror?

Won’t you have a good night, Night Vale? Won’t you have a good night?

• 175 — The October Monologues

And as the leaves are done, so are the October Monologues. All that can be said has been said. And all that can be said will be said again.

• 177 — Bloody Laws, Bloody Claws: The Murder of Frank Chen

That about does it for me, Night Vale. That about does it for me.

• 195 — Silas the Thief (Part 1)

Silas: And my name is Silas. Not Khoshekh. Okay? Okay.

• 196 — Silas the Thief (Part 2)

And one I have to consider. Am I Khoshekh? I don’t know if I’m ready to admit that just yet.

• 199 — Guidelines for Retrieval

Happy hoarding, Night Vale. Goodnight.

• 200 — Susan Willman Comes Clean

Susan Willman: So let me begin. This is a story about Huntokar, said a voice on the radio. A voice you had never heard before, though she has been speaking to you your whole life.

• 203 — The Kareem Nazari Show

Kareem: Again, really sorry. Uh, so… Take care. I guess.

• 216 — The Ball Is Where The Win Is

Steve: You have already made me so proud

• 221 — The Glow Cloud, Explained

All Hail, Night Vale. All Hail.

• 227 — A Word With Dr. Jones

Lubelle: Show over, Night Vale. Show over.

• 230 — Carlos, Explained

Good night, my Night Vale restored. Good night.

• 237 — Frown Night

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs Too, Until next time.

• 239 — Sister Cities: Vermillion Falls

Frank Luna: Good evening, Vermillion Falls. Good evening.

• 240 — He Is Holding a Knife

He is holding a knife. He takes the knife, and sets it against the microphone cord. And with one smooth and easy motion, he cuts the co-

#in other news #welcome to night vale #welcome to nightvale #wtnv podcast

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faux-ecrivain · 2 months

Text

Yan mean girl x gn loner reader

THE REQUEST; Heyy pookie :3 could I request Yan!Mean girl/gossip Girl with a gn!darling whos a loner? Tyy :3 ———————————————————— (Of course you can, and I’ll try my best to fulfill your request!) (30th official post) (Name’s Helen Rowley) (This one is a bit of a mess)

(Thirty First Official Post) ———————————————————— Yan Mean Girl that’s petty and steals all your friends just because you said she couldn’t bake. Yan mean girl that goes out of her way to make your life miserable and easily succeeds because even the most minor inconveniences can ruin your day. Yan mean girl that has no real reason for tormenting (aside from petty revenge for something you said years ago in kindergarten), she just likes to see you suffer. Yan mean girl that bothers you so much and spends so many hours plotting the most dastardly plans against you that certain people tease her for having a crush on you.

(“Wha-! I don’t like them! I-in fact, I hate them an-and they’re the worst, and-and they have terrible taste in fashion!” She said all this whilst her face was practically as red as a tomato.) Yan mean girl that compliments you in a perplexing manner, it supposed to be an insult, right? (“You’re such a loser, I mean, only losers get high marks on every exam! No-not that I care, I mean, so what if you’re smart and attractive! Why should I care about that?!” Helen shouts whilst you stand there absolutely baffled.) Yan mean girl that says she gets rid of your friends because you don’t deserve them. But the truth is that she was just jealous, she didn’t want that creep anywhere near you! Yan mean girl that finds any and every excuse to be around you, if you’re studying she makes you study with her. If you’re eating lunch, then she and her posse are surrounding you on all sides, and chatting your ear off. (Although, their conversation is typically passive-aggressive and you try to avoid talking to them.) No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, she’s always there with you. (At some point you start to look forward to having her around, probably because you have literally no friends, and regardless of who you try to befriend they always leave. Well, everyone except Helen.) Yan mean girl that starts to take advantage of your loneliness, she works her way into your life and seems intent on staying in your life. Yan mean girl that manages to befriend you, and suddenly, she’s the only one you spend time with. Yan mean girl that has successfully isolated you and has you wrapped around her finger. Why would you need anyone besides her? ——————————————————— (Okay, so I don’t really like this one, it’s not my best and I struggled a lot with writing this character. I’ve never watched Gossip girl, I’ve heard of it and seen parodies of it, but I never watched it. I’ve seen snippets of Mean Girls, but never watched the whole movie. Maybe if I had watched it, I would’ve had less trouble with Helen. So, yeah, sorry it took me so long, honestly I’m embarrassed it to me this long. Hopefully, you guys enjoy this hot mess, and hopefully, my writing process will speed up again soon.)

#yandere oc #my writing #yandere x reader #gn reader #fanfic #not the best #anon #Yandere female #yandere x you #yandere #yandere woman #Yandere mean girl x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere mean girl x gn reader #Yandere woman x gn reader #Thirty first official Post #Thirty First Official Post

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

Note

for clone Danny, Clone Damian

I give you

Edit Clone Talia as somehow Girlfriend of Danny, just think of the comedy

nah brO BECAUSE LITERALLY I HAVE THOUGHT BOUT THAT. Literally since the conception of Clone Danny, I have thought about it. If only for, as you said, the COMEDY of it all. Plus I love writing romance.

Literally my motto for my aus is: A) is it plausible, B) is it FUNNY (and a secret third option C) is it ANGSTY)

Clone Talia would be an offshoot au of Clone^2 because idk how she'd fit into the original timeline, bUT, she'd exist. And to avoid confusion I'll call her Nasra - I thought about Tameka (which means twin) but I like Nasra better. "Talia and Nasra" just flows so nicely doesn't it?

Idk WHY there's a clone of Talia running around -- maybe the LoA made her, maybe n unknown organization who hates Batman and knows he has romantic ties to Talia, and started making a clone of her to fuck with him and then she got nabbed by a portal when she was still Danny's age and in the middle of training. She might be like Connor (??) and have memories and thus her training is more proficient than baby Dames.

Either way, regardless of how she was made, I think it's hilarious if she, much like baby Dames, immediately attacks Danny on sight. She falls into his city and Danny only has a moment to go "goddammit not agaIN" before he's fending off a very confused, very violent Nasra. Fortunately he's able to actually try and talk to her and be at least somewhat successful -- Nasra knows english. although even if she didn't, Danny would still be somewhat successful since he knows Arabic.

Also Bruce and Danny are the battinson bat because i think that is also hilarious and 'wet rat' is STILL the perfect energy for Danny as Phantom - especially in the early days when he's running around in all but jeans and a hoodie. (and god watch me go on a rant in a separate post about his outfit and reasonings for being Phantom when he has no powers later on because it makes me go FERAL. and his active choice to look as inhuman and ghost-like through his behavior as phantom and the decision to wear such a creepy mask as possible)

(like seriously, imagine walking home late at night while danny was still in his early vigilante days (and even now when he's got damian and a better suit) and seeing a skinny figure in the shadows with sunken in black-and-glowing-green eyes, and a bone white, skull-like face, crouched on all fours like a wild animal about to pounce. THAT is the level of creepiness I was going for for clone danny)

In my head, Sam offers to house Nasra and Nasra stays with her. SAm is able to convince her parents to let her stay, or she pulls a Danny and just straight up smuggles her in and her parents are none the wiser. I also think it's funny if they have unspoken BEEF with each other. Only to later become like sisters. Nasra teaches Sam the martial arts she knows, and also Danny joins in too with Damian because goddamn he needs it even IF he's learning stuff from his mom (as per the most recent snippet post I made).

OH AND DAMIAN AND NASRA. I think it's equally as funny if they ALSO have beef with each other. Nasra is a clone of his mother (of whom he might have complicated views on due to being a clone but still is his mother) and Damian is a clone of Nasra's "son". This beef largely starts from Damian's own refusal to want to share his Danny with another clone, especially with a clone of his MOTHER.

Danny and Nasra don't become lovers for a good, long while I think. They're besties first before they even consider the idea of dating -- not only just because of the whole "uhhh our counterparts dated so it'd feel kinda weird and forced if we dated" and also because Nasra, with her newfound freedom, is busy trying to figure out herself.

A big theme here in clone^2: discovering your identity and who you are as a person when the only thing you own that's unique is your name (which isn't even the case for Damian), and figuring out if your choices are your own or because you're a clone and its something your original would have done. Nature vs Nurture and the illusion of choice and whether it really is one or not.

Also Nasra also becomes a vigilante. Danny appreciates the help but is also tearing out his hair because what the fuck is up with these assassins and becoming vigilantes?! Nasra goes by "Nesha". She's similar to Red Huntress at first where she kinda does her own thing, but is lowkey forced to team up with Danny about it because she doesn't have any proper ghost hunting equipment with her.

And then a duo becomes a trio, and Danny is spending more time with her. And they steadily become friends. Very snarky friends who are very bratty to each other, but friends. Damian still doesn't like her so Danny spends extra time during patrol keeping the two of them from making insults at each other.

"Nesha please stop fighting with a nine year old. Wraith, quit insulting Nesha."

Nasra also uses like, weaponry as Nesha which exasperates Danny a little because why are you using swords??? They're already dead its not gonna kill them,,,, If you cut off their heads its just gonna piss em off, its re-attachable. Let him ghost-proof it first too. But well, its still gonna HURT he supposes. He's still a little exasperated.

And MMM i'm sorry lmao im so focused on Nasra becoming her own person than the actual romance aspect of it all. Nasra cuts her hair short for the same/similar reasons that Danny keeps his long - to try and gain a semblance of autonomy and identity that's away from their original. Danny has his alternative rock-kinda geeky look and Nasra's got, from influence from Sam, a more alternative fashion style. Although she still leans into being feminine, which is a good challenge to Sam's belief that feminity = bad, and gets her to unlearn those bad habits since her new adoptive sister is feminine while still being an unapologetic badass.

And ykw I think Nasra gets into rollerblading and loves it. She rollerblades constantly. Damian is furious because skating is his thing (even if what he gets later on is a skateboard - skater boy damian ftw. i can see him wearing flannels and graphic tees as a teenager. very grungy/skater aesthetic. He also has a much more relaxed and teen-y speech pattern compared to DW's more formal way of talking. He also spray paints as his form of artistic medium.) and he refuses to have Nasra be a copy of him.

They will sort out their differences eventually. LMao.

Anyways they eventually do get together, but not before Danny finally has his run in with Mister Wayne. Which, they only meet because Danny starts destabilizing, and thus needs Bruce Wayne's DNA to help stabilize himself. Which that meeting in and of itself is pretty chaotic on its own, but then add clone Damian and Nasra? Bruce needs coffee.. or alcohol.

Because picture this: its late at night, you're on patrol with the rest of your family. It's like, two in the morning. You suddenly get a call in from your butler, Alfred, informing you that not one, not two, but THREE children -- two of them in their late teens and the other one not even ten yet -- showed up on your doorstep. One of them is unconscious. They are all clones.

The girl and the boy are twins - and are clones of YOU - and the girl isn't even technically YOUR clone she's a clone of your clone - and also this clone of you is your college friends' kid. And then the youngest boy is a clone of your youngest SON. Bruce is running across rooftops when he gets this call and does a literal 180 degree turn and touches the ground because he basically did a figure skating turn, and sprints back towards the manor because what the fuck? He needs to check this out.

And then half a day later a clone of your fucking ex shows up on your doorstep demanding to see the clone of you - the boy that is, not the girl - and then immediately gets into a verbal lashing with the clone of your son. Like what a fucking DAY. Your kids are equally as baffled but also laughing their asses off -- except your bio son, who is very unhappy about this turn of events and keeps getting the stink eye from his clone.

Like??? I'd quit right then and there.

While Danny recovers he's staying in Wayne manor and Damian is very reportedly not leaving his side. Ellie has to leave to help take care of Amity Park with RH, and then Nasra is also very determinedly not leaving his side either. This is her friend dammit. The first thing she does when he becomes lucid is insult him, and he insults her back - they're bantering. It's how they flirt later on. None of the Bats know how to deal with this situation.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dpdc crossover #dpdc au #dp dc #dp dc crossover #clone^2 #danny fenton is a clone #danny fenton is not the ghost king #sorry this got so long and i barely even got into them falling in love with one another #satoshy you should totally reblog this so we can talk about this more i'd love to bounce ideas with you or anyone else about it 👀#this is so funny to me personally because like. im imagining nasra doesnt show up unti danny's like at least 18-19 #which is a wild set of 3 years for danny because he finds out he's a clone when he's 15 #acquires Damian at 16 and then meets nasra at 18 #like he got one grace period where it was just him and his new little brother and then BAm another clone #damian showed up by accident but i promise you nasra was specifically clockwork's doing because its hilarious to me personally #CW loves danny but also he's a little shit. i was originally gonna call Nasra's vigilante name 'revenant' but thought it was too basic #also danny not meeting bruce until he's almost 20 is very funny to me. especially since baby dames was with the league for 6 years #beforehand #like what do you mean my clone has been living unnoticed for 18 years. he's had damian for HOW LONG? THREE YEARS?#morally gray danny has my heart ever since my post where he murdered three guys for nearly killing his brother.#nasra attacks danny and yay! he doesn't hurt his hands this time around! he's grown since he met damian. that was also a large part why dee #didn't like nasra right off the bat. she could've hurt him and made his hands even worse.

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ailithnight · 3 months

Note

Care to elaborate on 'Caught and Content'?

So, as I said in the post, Caught and Content is not really an active WIP. So I don't have any snippets to share from it. It's really just a vibes and 'as the mood hits' kinda thing.

That said, there are some things I've settled on for it I'm happy to share. So here's what I've got for you: Danny is not going to understand that the League genuinely just wants to help him for a long, long time. He's going to keep thinking around the truth, trying to rationalize and reconcile these heroes behavior with how he understands things are supposed to go now. That is, when he bothers to question anything it all.

They take him back to the first room with the big window? Well, Superman did just break the table in the other room. Maybe this table is built to withstand super strength in case Superman loses control again.

They switch the dampeners for ones he can use his hands with? What do that want him to use his hands for?

They put food on the table? Huh, must be lunch time.

Oh, it's for him? Is it... poisoned? Is there blood blossoms in it? This is... a test. Should he eat it because they told him to? Or should he not because ghosts don't eat? It was always hard to tell with the GIW.

They take him to a new room, with a bed and a window and even a bathroom? Damn, these guys have cushy holding cells. Although, they probably usually expect to be holding real people. Sentient people. People with rights.

Days pass and Danny doesn't understand why he's still here. Or why they're still feeding him. Or why people keep coming by and talking at him. But he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He is content to wait here, drinking in starlight until the end.

Oh, the Ward has been disbanded? Huh. Guess the government decided the Justice League did the better job at it anyway. After all, they're the ones that have Phantom caught and contained. Bout time they stopped wasting money on those mostly incompetent idiots in white.

Over and over and over again; Danny is either to busy dissociating to ask questions, or he invents answers that fit his preconceived notions. He does not allow himself to Hope that this won't end how he assumes it will. Not until someone gets fed up and spells it out for him. Someone enough like him that he listens to them. Someone enough like him that he inherently trusts them.

And once a little birdie gives him Hope again, that's when Danny finally lets himself fall apart.

#: )#dpxdc #dp x dc #Caught and Content #my writing

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rosiecqtt · 1 year

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary; Your back in the capital for the 75 annual Hunger Games waiting for the opening parade ceremony to begin when one of the victors, namely the male from four, comes over to talk to you which sparks certain emotions in Peeta.

Notes; Okay so I’m thinking of maybe perhaps writing a rewrite fic for the Hunger Games because, like a lot of others, I am once again in my Peeta Mellark phase. This is a little snippet from that said potential fic. Read it and let me know if you’d be interested in more? Let me know if you think its lacking anything or has too much, any feed back would be great.

Word Count; 3.3k

Warnings; It is the Hunger games, so mentions of violence and death. It gets a little spicy at the very end, Kissing and hickeys mostly.

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The last several days had seemed like a blur, and now here I was. Back in the capital dressed in an elegant costume waiting to be paraded for all of Panem to see, literally. Cinna had walked me to the elevator, but he had more things to attend to before it started so he had left me to travel down alone.

The elevator all too quickly arrived at the ground floor of the Remake Center, which houses the huge gathering place for the tributes and their chariots before the opening ceremonies. I'm hoping to find Peeta or Haymitch, or both, but they haven't arrived yet. So I once again find myself alone.

Unlike last year, when all the tributes were practically glued to their chariots, the scene is very social. The victors, both this year's tributes and their mentors, are standing around in small groups, talking.

Of course, they all know one another and I don't know anyone, and I'm not really the sort of person to go around introducing myself. Back in twelve, I was often teased in school for not being more social, but eventually, I grew to not mind so much.

Instead of mingling and trying to find allies, I just stroke the neck of one of my horses and try not to be noticed.

It doesn't work.

The crunching hits my ear before I even know he's beside me, and when I turn my head, Finnick Odair's famous sea-green eyes are only inches from mine. He pops a sugar cube in his mouth and leans against my horse.

“Hello, Y/n,” he says, as if we've known each other for years, when in fact we've never met.

“Hello, Finnick,” I say, just as casually, although I'm feeling uncomfortable at his closeness, especially since he's got so much bare skin exposed.

“Want a sugar cube?” he says, offering his hand, which is piled high.

“They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I ... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.” he says with a flirty wink.

Finnick Odair is something of a living legend in Panem. He won the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games when he was only fourteen. So besides Peeta and I, he is one of the youngest victors. He was from district four and was a Career, so the odds of him winning again, were in his favor. I had to admit that he certainly was extraordinarily beautiful. He was very tall, probably six foot two. He has a very athletic build, with golden skin and bronze-colored hair, and those incredible eyes.

I find it hard to form an argument against how beautiful he is. But I can honestly say he's never been someone I would want to be with. Maybe he's too pretty, or maybe he's too easy to get, or maybe it's really that he'd just be too easy to lose.

“No, thanks,” I finally say, refusing his offer of the sugar.

“I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though,” I say attempting to tease him as my eyes scan his elaborate outfit.

He's draped in a golden net that's strategically knotted at his groin so that he can't technically be called naked, but he's about as close as you can get. I'm sure his stylist thinks the more of Finnick the audience sees, the better.

“And you're absolutely terrifying me in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?” he asks. He wets his lips just ever so slightly with his tongue. Probably this drives most people crazy, and I can’t deny that it didn’t raise a blush to my cheeks.

“I outgrew them,” I say simply looking back at the horses.

Finnick leans closer to me and takes the collar of my outfit and runs it between his fingers. I look up at his face my eyes watching him closely, trying to calculate his next move.

“It's too bad about this Quell thing. You could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted.”

“I-I don't like jewels, and I have more money than I need.” I stutter out flustered at his close proximity.

I clear my throat and take a step back “What do you spend all yours on, anyway, Finnick?” I say.

“Oh, I haven't dealt in anything as common as money for years,” says Finnick.

“Then how do they pay you for the pleasure of your company?” I ask, genuine curiosity seeping into my voice.

“With secrets,” he says softly with a charming smirk. He tips his head in so his lips are almost in contact with mine and my face grows hot.

“What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?”.

“No, I, uh I’m an open book,” I whisper back. “Everybody seems to know my secrets before I know them myself.” I lie hoping he will back off. He smiles.

“Unfortunately, I think that's true.” His eyes flicker off to the side and I find myself letting out a breath.

“Peeta is coming. Sorry, you have to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you.” He tosses another sugar cube in his mouth and saunters off as anger fills my chest.

‘How dare he’. I think bitterly to myself. Did everyone truly think that I was simply faking my love and adoration for Peeta? Did I really come across like I was some horrible bitch using Peeta to make myself look good? A wave of sadness washed over me and I started to question if maybe everyone is right.

Peeta's walking up beside me snapped me out of my thoughts. He’s dressed in an outfit identical to mine and my blush returns full force as my eyes scan his body.

“What did Finnick Odair want?” he asks, a strange tone to his voice. I turn to face him, a frown evident on my face.

“He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets,” I say.

Peeta laughs. “Ugh. Not really.”

“Really,” I say with an anxious laugh.

Peeta hums in response, watching as Finnick walks up to some other victor he seemed to know. He clenched his jaw tightly and looked back over to me. I thought it was strange but chose to not comment on it as the parade music began signaling for everyone to mount their chariots.

“Shall we?” He says turning to me and stretching out a hand to help me into the chariot.

I smile and gratefully accept it, climbing up and pulling him up after me. “Hold still,” I say, as I reach up to straighten his crown. He smiles down at me, and I return it glad that I don’t have to be here alone.

“Have you seen your suit turned on?” I ask him as I step back to make sure the crown is perfectly straight. “We're going to be fabulous again.”, I said teasingly, mocking the strange capital accent.

“Absolutely we are”, he said with the same one. “But Portia says we're to be very above it all. No waving or anything,” he says more seriously. I nod, Cinna having said something similar.

“Where are they, anyway?” I asked eyeing the other chariots, they had set our costumes ablaze at last year's chariot ride but they were nowhere to be found.

“Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on,” Peeta suggests noticing the panic growing on my face.

So we do, and as we begin to glow, I can see people pointing at us and chattering, and I know that like last year we are going to be the talk of the opening ceremonies.

When we’re almost out the door I crane my head around once again looking for them, but neither Portia nor Cinna, are anywhere in sight.

With a frown, I look up into Peeta’s blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly, and remember how, just a year ago, I thought he was prepared to kill me. I spent most of my entire time running away from him during the game, when in the end he was pretending to hate me all along so that he could protect me, which then created our start-crossed lover's story. I smile at him warmly and grab his hand without a second thought.

We will go into this as one this time.

The voice of the crowd rises into one universal scream as we roll into the fading evening light, but neither one of us reacts.

I simply fix my eyes on a point far in the distance and pretend there is no audience, no hysteria. But I can't stop myself from catching glimpses of us on the huge screens along the route, and we are not just beautiful, we are dark and powerful.

We are the star-crossed lovers from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little of the rewards of our victory. We do not seek the fans' favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses.

We are unforgiving. And I love it. Last year I craved the attention of the audience, knowing deep down that they loved Peeta more than me. I was desperate to gain the fan's attention in order to save myself. But not this time. This time I don’t care because I know I won’t win, nor do I care if they want me to. Peeta is the one who should have more fans. This time he will be the only one going home in the end.

As we curve around the loop I hold Peeta’s hand tighter. I try to keep my gaze forward, not wanting to meet the faces of the other tributes, but I find it hard to not glance at all the others in front of us. Thankfully the ride goes by quickly and soon I find myself back in the training center but I dare not move until the doors close behind us. It seems Peeta thought the same thing because as the doors do finally close we both let out a long breath.

Not letting go of my hand Peeta helps me off the chariot then jumps down beside me and together we walk towards our newly appeared stylists. Cinna and Porta are waiting on the far end of the room seeming very pleased with our display during our ride.

Haymitch has made an appearance as well, only he's not standing with them, he's over with the tributes of District 11. I see him nod in our direction and then they follow him over to greet us.

I know Chaff by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement like they did Peeta when they had to amputate his lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it.

The woman, Seeder, looks almost like she could be from the Seam, with her olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver. Only her golden brown eyes mark her as from another district. She must be around sixty, but she still looks strong, and there's no sign she's turned to liquor or morphling or any other chemical form of escape over the years.

Before either of us says a word, she embraces me. I know somehow it must be because of Rue and Thresh. Before I can stop myself, I whisper, “The families?��

“They're alive,” she says back softly, understanding what I meant before letting me go with a soft smile.

Chaff throws his good arm around me and gives me a big kiss right on the mouth. My eyes grow wide and I jerk back, startled, while he and Haymitch laugh. Peeta watched Chaff with a clenched jaw, giving him the same strange look he gave Finnik earlier.

I open my mouth to say something about it to him but the Capitol attendants are firmly directing us toward the elevators. I get the distinct feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less.

As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still latched tightly with Peeta's, someone else rustles up to my side. A girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls.

Johanna Mason. From District 7 Lumber and paper, thus the tree. She won by very convincingly portraying herself as weak and helpless so that she would be ignored. Then she demonstrated a wicked ability to murder. I admired her greatly and in the games last year many people assumed that I was following in her footsteps with my meek attitude. But unlike Johanna I was not as skilled at killing, just the hiding and playing dumb bit.

She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. “Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I’d gotten Cinna. You look fantastic.” She says with a wink.

My face flushes and I feel Peeta’s grip on my hand tighten further and I find myself growing increasingly curious as to why.

While we wait for the elevators, Johanna unzips the rest of her tree, letting it drop to the floor, and then kicks it away in disgust. Except for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing and my face grows hot at the realization.

“That's better,” she says plainly, very unbothered at the fact that she was naked and surrounded by people.

We end up on the same elevator with her, and she spends the whole ride to the seventh floor chatting to Peeta about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare breasts. When she leaves, I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding and. I watched as the doors close behind Chaff and Seeder, leaving us alone.

We both remain silent for a moment before he looks over at me with a smirk.

“What?” I ask nervously turning to face him as we step out on our floor.

“It's you, Y/n. Can't you see?” he says.

“What's me?” I say confused.

“Why they're all acting like this. Finnick with his sugar cubes and Chaff kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down.” He tries to take on a more serious tone, trying to mask the one he's had since Finnick had spoken to her, but he was unsuccessful

“They're playing with you because you're so ... you know.”

“No, I don't know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he's talking about.

“It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure,” he says finally. I blush, my face turning red again at the implication. “No, I am not!” I exclaim.

“Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure,” he says, firmly. ”And honestly, it's very attractive." He said

I paused at that, glad that he was behind me, and could not see the blush that seemed to darken my face. I felt his warm hands wrap around my waist as I tried to think of something to say to defend myself.

“I know we are engaged, but no one seems to understand that you are mine, Y/n” Peeta says softly, resting his head on my shoulder as he holds me against him.

“They don’t respect that you are mine, and I don’t know how to show them that you are”. He said. “But I can show you,” he whispers seductively into my ear. "Yeah?" I ask softly, not trusting myself to be able to say anything else at this moment.

“Oh yeah, will you let me do that sugar cube?” He asks gently, teasing me with that nickname. I know he was alluding to Finnicks offerings and I couldn’t help the amused smile that fell on my face. I remained still as his hands moved across my waist only to stop and rest on my hips.

I nervously chew on my bottom lip and nod softly, growing both excited and nervous to see what he had planned. Suddenly his behavior since my encounter with Finnick all made sense. He. was. Jealous. Soft, affectionate, and kind Peeta, my Peeta, was jealous, and it was oddly very attractive. I felt a soft, wet kiss on my neck that snapped me out of my thoughts.

“I need an answer sweetheart,” he said placing another kiss on the opposite side of my neck. suck in a deep breath and lean further into him, “Yes”, I say breathlessly and I feel him smirk against my skin.

He kisses my neck once again, and I melt into his embrace. He pulls away and looks into my eyes, his pupils were dilated and his breathing was heavy. “Hold tight then,” He says seductively before spinning me around. I gasp at his sudden movements and cling to him as he backs me up against the wall in his room and pins me to the door with his hips. I gasp and he takes that as an opportunity to kiss me deeply, letting his tongue explore my mouth. I soon find myself pressing back against him and matching his hungry kisses that seem to devour me.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he holds my waist tightly, pushing himself closer to me and I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips. “Peeta”, I say breathlessly as his mouth leaves mine and he opts to kiss my neck.

He hums in response and moves his hand up to my neck to where the buttons of my top sit. He starts to undo them, and I let him. Once unbuttoned he pulls it down my arms and rids me of it, leaving me in just my bra and pants. He stares at me for a moment, his eyes taking me in before he moves in closer. His lips press against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I let myself get lost in the moment, in the sensations he's making me feel. I feel my body melting into him and I reach my hands up into his blonde hair, tangling my fingers in it to ground myself.

He slowly kissed down my neck, nipping and sucking as he went. Dark red and purple marks decorated my skin as he went, successfully marking me ask his. Usually, he was gentle and sweet and though this wasn’t the first time they had kissed, it certainly seemed like the most intimate and hungry.

He spent what seemed to be hours littering my chest and neck with his marks, successfully marking me as his, and he probably would have continued if Effie, Hamitch, and the others hadn’t gotten back and called for them.

Pouting I looked up at Peeta, my eyes glassy and my pupils just as dilated as his. He chuckled softly and gave one last kiss to my swollen lips before resting his forehead against mine.

“Hopefully now you’ll remember and understand that you’re mine Y/n,” Peeta said. I smiled at him my heart racing in my chest as I looked up into his blue eyes. I nodded as I whispered, "I do." He leaned in and kissed me one last time before disappearing into his bathroom to quickly change. I stood against the door for another moment trying to process what had happened.

After several seconds I laughed to myself, “Wow”, I whispered to myself as I looked around his room for something I could change into myself so as to not seem suspicious to everyone else. “Just wow”. I whispered shaking my head. My nickname in the Capital was the Girl on Fire, but it seemed like I wasn’t the only one who burning.

#peeta supremacy #peeta x reader #the hunger games #thg #peeta #peeta mellark #fanfiction #i love peeta #peeta is better #the hunger games x y/n #spicy #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta x you #girlys who get it get it

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renxholics · 1 year

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❝ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ! ❞

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ❝ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! ❞

﹟riddle : leona : azul : kalim : vil : idia : malleus : x gn!reader. cw indirect kissing. snippets of having indirect kisses with you, their crush. however, you may seem a bit oblivious… or did you do that on purpose? mutual pining, not established relationship.

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎perhaps you should of learnt your lesson, but you sometimes learned things the hard way, like never taste testing one of Riddle’s sweets, for example. banging on your chest you let out a few coughs as the burning sensation got worst and worse by the second, tears prickling your eyes as you reach for the cup of tea on the table. “so delicious…” you lied through your teeth as you swallowed it all down with one big gulp, hoping your sense of taste would return within the next few days. you really should of learned after the oyster sauce fiasco that Riddle had no idea how to cook, and that even if he looked so happy offering you something he made, you shouldn’t of eaten it. he just had such a proud look. “i just think that maybe,” you wheezed out, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, “you may have mixed up the sugar or added something with a bit too much spice.” you cough again, trying to smile as you finally manage to look at him. his face was red but no angry words or disappointed words spew, only him bringing his arm to cover his mouth as he cast his gaze from the cup in your hands to you, then towards the ground. “r-right! i’ll make sure to double check next time…” he stuttered, in the tiniest whisper, “prefect.”

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ sighing, you cross your arms and shake your head as you glare down at Leona in the middle of the greenhouse. his upper half leaned against a tree as he raised his arms behind his head, yawning and opening his eyes. “if you want me to head to class then try doing something that will motivate me, herbivore,” he mocked, clearing enjoying your frustration. as you rub your temples you take a second before an idea strikes, grinning at him as he quirks his brow up at you. “do something to motivate you? well then, hopefully this is motivation enough,” you concede to his wish, brushing your fingers against your lips, pressing a kiss onto them. kneeling down between the legs of lazy lion, you press your fingers against his lips as a cheeky smile forms on your face. “do a good job this week and i’ll give you a proper one next time.” you said with a wink. growling, he tried to grip at you but you bounce back up too quickly, running off laughing to yourself.

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ savoring the bite of your chicken you enjoyed every last bit of it as Azul watched with a gentle smile, him enjoying the way you looked while eating his cooking. it wasn’t everyday someone could eat food personally cooked by the head of the monstro lounge, nor exactly be served by him, so please, take the hint already prefect! “it’s delicious, Azul. have some with me, won’t you?” you casually asked, turning to face him as you twirled your fork around the noodles, stabbing a piece of chicken and blowing onto it to cool it down. although your actions were presumably innocent, Azul felt himself short circuiting as his face flushed against his will at the mere thought of you feeding him, not only that, but using the very same fork you had eaten from. really, how scandalous you were, prefect. with one hand underneath the fork, you raised it to his lips, “say ahh,” you smiled expectantly as he finds his mouth opening before his mind could process anything, the fork entering his mouth as you pull the fork back, twirling it already for your next bite. “prefect!” he tried to respond but only uttered gibberish as you continued eating, enjoying his reaction. “i’m glad you’ve finally taken a break, even if you’ve combusted.” you whisper to yourself as a little giggle escape your lips.

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “it’s like grim, but nicer,” you commented in awe, petting the magic carpet which nuzzled against you. you weren’t sure who was more like a puppy, Kalim, or his magic carpet. “come on now, i’m gonna fall over!” you half heartedly chastise as you press a kiss onto what you assume to be the head of the magic carpet as it looped around happily in the air, all the way back over to the scarabia dorm leader, nuzzling into him. “grim is pretty fluffy and cute too!” he responded, laughing and feeling tickling from the happy carpet. similar to a cat, the carpet nuzzled it’s head where you kissed against his lips, head butting him. “maybe it wants a kiss from you, too,” you conclude, kalim eager to give him one. “i wonder, does that count as an indirect kiss? i hope it does…” he heard you muttering to yourself, barely catching it. it seems the carpet acted just like it’s master, in both carefreeness and expressing it’s love. in an instant, you felt yourself swept off your feet in between kalim’s arms as you were up in the air once more, being taken for another ride. “prefect, it definitely counts!” he cheerily responded to your muttering before giving you a direct kiss with the starry night sky and carpet to witness.

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Vil’s hand was slightly cool as his long and delicate fingers grasped at your chin, tilting it upwards at him. you tried to avoid squirming in your seat from close proximity as he brought his face to your’s, expertly applying bright red lipstick to your lips. “you should be lucky, spudling. i don’t normally share my makeup with others.” he huffed, backing away and finally allowing you to look in the mirror. you had to admit, you looked amazing with your makeup done, he even did your nails earlier just for you. “thanks! it looks perfect, just like you,” you praised, thanking him before heading on out to do your daily chores. popping out of seemingly nowhere, Rook clapped and beamed. “merveilleux! i assume it was on purpose, was it not, Roi du Poison?” the huntsman asked, giving his dorm leader wearing the same bright red shade of lipstick a knowing look. it really isn’t everyday or nearly ever he shares his personal makeup. “i have no idea what you’re assuming.” Vil laughed in response, packing up his makeup as a little smile tugged on the corners of his lips. maybe now other’s would realize you’re not available to flirt with when you have him already marking you as his.

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “take a second, pause, breathe,” you scold, wiggling one finger back and forth with one hand as the other pulled your lollipop away from your lips, shoving it into Idia’s agape mouth. “nothing bad is going to happen, we can figure a way to finish this event before midnight,” you continue, stretching your arms as you make your way back to your chair beside Idia’s, taking a seat and pressing away at your keyboard, rearranging your party for optimal speedrunning. as you tried to review your account setup, the blue haired dorm leader’s mouth finally shut as his eyes widened to the size of saucers. his face flushed and matched the color of his fiery hair as he tried to stutter out a coherent sentence, failing each and every single time as he watched your every single move. “alright, done. i’ll do all the healing, shielding, and buffing. you just focus on damage, okay?” you ask, spinning in your chair as you turn back to Idia who was still stuck like a deer in headlights. raising a brow, you snatched your lollipop back out from his mouth and put it back into your’s. “as cute as you look right now, there’s no time, we’ve got less than twenty minutes. i want my event loot real bad right now so let’s leave the teasing you about this and maybe asking you on a date later… depends how you do.” you teased, giving a little wink.

༘˚₊➳❥ 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “you like ice cream, tsunotarou?” you ask as you tilt your head in the direction of your favorite dragon fae. “indeed, child of man…” he begun, explaining his like for the tasty dessert. taking one more nibble out of your ice cream cone, you hand it over to him as he watched you quizzically. “here, you can have the rest! i’m full anyways.” you offer, trying to find a napkin on your person. Malleus’ eyes widened momentarily at your bold offer, he couldn’t recount anyone else offering him something they ate out of before. taking the cone out of your hand he had a small smile adorn his face. you were always so interesting, the way you never feared him but even shared with him. handing you his handkerchief in return for the ice cream, you thank him with a smile and encourage him to take a bite, to which he does quite gracefully. “it taste better than normal..” he commented as you wiped your lips, grinning. “eating with friends is always better! i’ll bring some more next time. and ah, just don’t tell Sebek about this, he might try to fight me over getting to have an indirect kiss with you first,” you joked. “indirect kiss?” he replied with a knowing smile. if you wanted a kiss, you could always just ask directly, child of man.

@𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐗𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐒 : no plagiarizing, reposting, or claiming as your’s.

following channels [tag list] : @h0n3ysgh0st : ((: snippets are adorable. you know what’s more adorable? flustered guys. i can’t guarantee daily uploads but i can guarantee i’m trying my best. it’s kinda hard to come up with seven different scenarios.

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