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wmarximoff · 2 years

Note

Hi!

For the requests, I’d like to ask you if you could write something with Wanda, fem!reader and the twins where one of them has a nightmare and his mothers comfort him. Then the next day turns into a family day full of love and funny moments!!

take a break | w. maximoff

summary: ever since you left on a mission far away, Billy has been having nightmares that have been worrying Wanda. all your family needs is for you to come home soon.

warnings: none, actually. this is just pure family fluff.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 4k

A/N: sorry for the delay anon (this really took a long time to come out), but my classes haven't been helping much. but even with the delay, here it is! hope you like it!

|masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

Wanda's right thumb had its cheek pressed against the long screen of her phone, in that digitized green icon found right in the center of the device's screen glass that indicated the beginning of a phone call. The name of the contact marked her wife's – there, next to it, was a small red heart emoji to distinguish her from the others, a symbolic trophy for having married her. And it was calling, the vibration of the device possible to feel through her fingers.

Wanda then lifted her forearm beneath that unbuttoned cardigan made of fine crimson wool, fitting the face of her phone against the length of her right ear. For a brief second, her upper teeth clenched and chewed the length of her rosy lower lip, in an act that served to replace the usual fidget she was used to doing with her fingers when faced with somewhat agonizing situations.

When she was younger, she'd do it with a handful of silver rings that she liked to carry around her fingers, twisting and tugging at them with her fingertips, but it had been a good few years now (certainly a decade or even little more than that) that the only adornment to be found there could only have been the thin golden band of a wedding ring, placed there by her wife, whose simple ornament was a small cut ruby gemstone that used to shimmer scarlet in the sunlight on summer days like that.

The phone, therefore, was held diagonally close to the high, sharp of Wanda's firm cheekbone, beneath a long strand of brown hair like a smooth coffee wave. And, with her hips leaning against the edge of the dark marble kitchen counter, her eyes a sizable glint of tension spreading around the jadish irises, Wanda waited.

She just waited, listening to her own breathing – the call unfolding, awaiting the reception of that person on the other end of the line whose call was directed.

She wouldn't like to say that she was restless, even a little schismatic, but it was kind of how her nerves felt as they bristled at that moment in question, being inside the tiled, pale-walled kitchen, an open window that allowed the glow of daylight from the backyard to flood the room in a golden pool of warm sunlight.

From where she stood, just a few feet away that crossed the ground floor of that domestic environment, her field of vision reached the back of the heads of the two dark-haired twin boys seated well on the living room sofa, both facing away from their mother, while on the television shined the color of some video game with wild explosions and bursts of digitized powers.

So she waited. She waited because there was nothing to do but wait; an agonized vein brandishing within the walls of her skull.

It didn't take more than seconds for the answer to come, however - even though, to Wanda's apprehensive perspective, the seconds took the form of minutes, and the minutes made up the whole of an hour, until your voice came from the phone pressed to your wife's intent ear.

“Hey, baby,” was what you said at first, to the deepest delight of your wife's spirits.

For Wanda, her heart blew out and she snorted, exhaling a limp sigh through her nose.

“Hi, honey,” had then greeted the enchantress, slowly dissipating the simple grip of her fingers against the phone, “Hi… hi. Hi malyshka. Hey.”

“Hey...?” there was an intonation of confused questioning, sort of as if you were smiling ambiguously on the other end of the line.

“Wanda, honey, is everything okay? You sound kinda... weird. Did something happen? Are the boys okay?"

“We’re okay yeah,” she sighed, the tips of her left fingers sweeping a strand of long hair behind her free ear outline, “It's just…I'm just relieved you're okay, baby.”

“Ah, my love,” you smiled small, even though so far away she didn't see it, she only felt it.

“Of course I'm fine, Wands. The mission is going well and so far I've only had to kick one colonizing alien ass, so... I consider this a victory. Hah. But I’ll be home to you and the boys soon, right? Soon, baby.”

“They miss you. And I... I miss you too, malysh...” Wanda hummed, releasing the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding in her lungs.

“I miss you too, baby,” you sighed, half apologetically, even if nonverbally doing so, “You and the boys. But I'll be right back, okay? Be right back. Just a few more days, honey. By the beginning of next week we will be back to Earth and I will be home at the first opportunity. Promise.”

“Yeah, I… I know,” she repositioned her lower back against the hard marble counter, “I'm sorry I called like that and worried you, but it's just… Billy's been having those nightmares again, and... I wish you were here, Y/n."

“You don't need to apologize for anything, Wands. You know I love talking to you. And I… I wanted to be there too,” at your words she smiled lovingly against her phone, just moving up the corner of her peach lips.

“But hey, is Billy having these nightmares again? Damn, he must be scared. He’s fine? Is Tommy okay? He tends to worry a lot about Bill at these times.”

“He's fine, both of them are. But, he... he dreamed of you, Y/n. That you were having problems with the mission. And you know he has this magical connection to the astral plane, that sometimes he sees things that no one else sees, so I... I got worried, malysh. I thought it might be real this time.”

Her voice was stung, a thread sustained by a feeling that, even on the other side of the galaxy, she knew how to say that it hurt inside your chest.

“I'm fine, Wands,” you reassured her in a tiny tone, matching hers, imbued with affection as if you were even cuddled there with her on the blandness of your own bed, whispering security words in her ear.

“I promise I'm fine. We're all fine around here. And soon I’ll return to Earth, right? Just one more week, honey.”

“Okay,” Wanda mussed in a comfortable echo, recalling the facts as if to soothe her own worries, “Just one more week.”

“I love you, my little witch. I can't wait to go home and kiss you all over that pretty face of yours."

“I love you too, Y/n,” she smiled. “Very, very much. Just be careful out there, okay?”

“I'll be careful, honey. I’ll come home in one piece for you, I promise.”

With the eventual termination of the call, there was a measly second that Wanda took to look down at the blistered ruby in the outline of the wedding ring on her left finger.

With her right thumb she stroked the crimson-cut gemstone, studying it in an affectionate gaze that mirrored the first time she'd done it so many years ago, allowing a small, chaste smile to creep into the pulp of her lips. Only one more week was the intended promise. Wanda could always wait for you for just one more week.

But it was in a wide, crackling globe, flames still tender in their avid assiduous incandescence, just around the corner of the galaxy, where you found yourself so far from Westview, New Jersey – from Jersey to the world, and from the world to the vast longitude of the universe.

A enormous structure, blazing in stubborn embers, it projected a warm orange luminescence (like a stone of carnelian) straight into the macrocosm around it – the sun was a dwarf star situated in the wilderness of planet Earth for about forty-light-years of distance between their sidereal bodies, surrounding a giant, dead carcass that floated in space without a definite purpose in its principle.

In its orbit, in front of a triad of extrasolar rocks (the carcass of a deceased and monstrous Celestial creature), a celestial body integrated along its system a rotund belt of asteroids coming from the enormities of that dead being, heterogeneous cosmic dust circulating closely, like embers sprawled across the vastness of the eternal cosmos.

However, in the midst of such malformed rocks that had come loose from the body of the Celestial being, metallic infrastructures suspended like bridges were interconnected with each other in the spaceport of Exitar, in Knowhere, in a single chain of mercantilism in the local trading post, like a copious trade point erected in the most profuse concave of outer space.

With traffic areas branching from the spaceport towards the rocky edges of the asteroids, prefabricated housing complexes were crammed into multiple open circuits; shacks made of sheet metal, establishments no less than clandestine, saturated with an immoderate frenzy of travelers from all corners of the universe.

As a former member of the Nova Corps, born and raised on the planet of Xandar, located just outside the Tranta System, in the middle of the Andromeda galaxy, your life before Wanda was adorned by intergalactic travel on behalf of the Nova Empire that had given birth to you, until the moment when one of those missions to search for an interplanetary criminal guided you to the remote planet Earth, to meet the Avengers (and, consequently, with them, that beautiful girl with the piercing emerald eyes who would one day become your future wife).

It was customary in your nature, therefore, to venture into hyperspace. But that was your past, a long time, so far from your current reality – now you were a wife and a mother. The universe around you rotated at a different rotation than the others. Your whole life was back in New Jersey.

The spaceship had been parked there for you to enjoy a drink at a bar near the spaceport by an informal invitation made by that Quill guy, the Star Lord of the Guardians of the Galaxy himself, where the bay was integrated into amidst the caliginous vastness of hyperspace.

But those who descended behind the harbor, however, where the urbanization of buildings in vivid neon flourished (city and docks were segregated by a narrow border of space dust), were that admired young girl who was Kamala Khan, the teenage superhero then named as Miss Marvel, in the company of Monica Rambeau, to which you chose to stay behind and keep an eye on the ship.

“Hey kid. What are you still doing here, Y/n?”

The voice that reached your ears was that of Carol Danvers, however, as the golden-haired Captain in a beer-colored funnel cut approached you in relaxed strides, right into the spacecraft's cockpit.

Though she had lived long enough for her age to be even comparable to your mother's, Danvers was still decorated with exalted features in her firm jaw and well-shaped brows, appearing in her physique a healthy time in her life close to yours, and may even pass for a woman of similar age to your own. No soul who glanced at her would suppose that she was already closer to sixty years of age than thirty, or even approaching the graces of being forty.

“Wanted to stay here and miss out on all the fun? I heard that Kamala’s gonna challenge Quill to a dance off.”

“And I bet she's gonna crush him. She’s got the moves.”

Your giggle was half-airy, rehearsed, which Carol didn't miss, as she sat with both her elbows on her two bent knees inside the red, blue, and gold tactical outfit she so honorably wore, in a high-chair next to the one you were sitting on. The alien city sprang up in glowing neon enormities in front of the windshield of the parked spacecraft.

“So,” muttered the Captain, always so direct in her speech, her vision interspersed with a lock of medium-length, dirty-blond hair.

“Problems at home, kid? I saw your wife called you earlier. Is everyone okay? Did something happen?"

"No... I think?" you sighed.

“I mean, yes? They're fine, I think. I don't know. It's just that I'm kinda worried, Cap... Billy's having those nightmares of his again. It happens sometimes when I spend a lot of time away, he's a really worried kid. And, well… it's been almost a month, hasn't it?”

"Billy... your little boy, right?"

“Yeah, the youngest,” and then you sort of laughed, something that prompted a good-natured hoist of a dark brow from Carol.

“I mean, they're twins, but he's the youngest. Tommy keeps reminding him of this when they argue. I try to keep my composure, but… it's funny to watch.”

There was a goofy smile, with a healthy air of nostalgia that lit up the irises in your eyes as your chest swelled into your own blue and gold tactical outfit characteristic of the Nova Corps, little by little like a balloon, of maternal, affable, love of unparalleled uniqueness – it was your children you spoke so proudly of, after all.

Your children with Wanda, a unique combination of your best and hers too. Your greatest prize to keep and treasure in life.

“Sorry, it's just that… I miss her. Them.”

“It's okay, Y/n,” Carol reassured you, giving you the tiniest smug smile, “I… I know how it is. You know, being away from your family for so long. Your wife, your kid. To be… be away from the people you love.”

And then there was a look with a meaning you had no idea how to unravel, whereupon the Captain's smile faltered into a wavering shiver, fading like a scribble on the beach's edge washed by a wave of salt water. In the crimson material that made up the upper part of her suit, her Herculean shoulders seemed to tense into her broad-shouldered muscles for a while.

"You feel like you're missing things, don't you?" there was a haggard outline in the dark gaze of the woman older than you.

“That maybe you can come back and… things are different than they were when you left. That what you left behind no longer will be what you will find when you return.”

You blinked once and Carol maintained a thread of silence that lasted for a few counted seconds, her dark eyes roaming the metallic floor of the spacecraft.

It didn't take long for your cognition to dilute the Captain's lines like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces neatly fitted in your brain; the individual hidden in the reflection was Monica, of course, who had once seen the Captain as more of a figure than her team leader – in another life, at another time, Carol, then in an enduring relationship with her mother, had been a maternal figure to that woman who now went by the name of Photon.

The blonde took a profuse gulp of oxygen before again lifting her steady face towards you.

“We'll drop you off at home in two days, Y/n,” the other woman then said, even though she caught you off guard with the new information.

"What?!" you raised both your eyebrows to the middle of your forehead, frowning, “But we still have to go to Morag and then to Xandar! That–that’s another week of travel!”

“I'm sure Nova Prime won't mind if we delay a few days after we've managed to catch a criminal none of them have been able to catch before,” Carol half shrugged, placing a strong open palmed hand over your right shoulder.

“No need to worry, kid. You deserve to be home with your family, take a break for a while, spend time with your wife and kids. Some things... some things are not worth losing in life.”

There was a second of thoughtful silence adorned by the aluminum of the ship's interior.

“Well… thanks, Cap,” you acknowledged her with a sincere smile, as the blonde woman stood on her navy-clad knees.

“Don't worry about it,” she placed both hands at her sides, in a typical triumphant hero pose that caused a ripple of comicality in her actions.

“But how about a drink to celebrate your vacation, huh? I promise I won't tell your boss if you don't."

When you rose from the high-chair, standing before Captain Marvel in all her glory, you only laughed thinly, shaking your head playfully from side to side. It would be fun to surprise you dedicated wife a little, back on Earth.

ᗢ

The nighttime darkness was still brewing solemnly over the placid sleeping Westview when Wanda opened one eyelid and then the other, both blurred with a comfortable feeling of pure sleep. She let out a languid yawn through her soft lips, and blinked for a long time. Her right wrist wandered up to her stunned face, emerging from the den of the silk sheets, and brushed against her left eye, which throbbed with an imaginary itch.

Even with her foggy vision, she managed to catch the neon green numbers “03” and “35” that glinted on the dim face of her digital clock, placed on the headboard just beside her bed, next to a porcelain lamp.

But before she could turn across the length of the vast double bed she shared with her wife, she felt a soothing touch spread up her left thigh to the exposed skin above her navel, and a bashful nose set in between her warm locks of dark hair, close to the skin of the nape of her neck.

Your firm arms encircled her from behind, and, with melodious lips, you had placed a long kiss on the contour of her neck, in the region of its junction with her left shoulder, to which the strap of the scarlet nightgown she wore on her body had fallen.

“Y/n...?” she mussed, still a little sleepy-drunk, though soon waking up in front of her face, “Y/n, what are you…? You... you came back. You came back early...”

You smiled against the pale skin at the back of her neck, where you kissed her warmly a second time that night, inhaling the scent of her moisturizer and shampoo.

“Not as early as I expected, actually. I wanted to get back before you guys went to bed… but hey, it's late” your tiny voice rang through the room, which before was dominated by a constant silence, broken only by small cicadas in the distance.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll still be here when you wake up in the morning.”

"You will?"

Wanda purred like a sleepy cat, her heavy lids returning to her emerald eyes. Barely, and somewhat needy, she snuggled against your warm body, pulling you close, a lazy little smile playing across her wet lips.

“Of course I will, baby,” you mussed, “I'll be here for you.”

“I missed you, detka. I've missed you so much…” Wanda sighed softly, her hand going over yours in a sleepy, needy grip.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” you whispered against her ear, nestling your forehead against the fragrant back of Wanda's neck, your fingers warm over her stomach, roaming the skin present there in imaginary traces.

“I really missed you so much.”

Once again there was silence. For a brief moment, you could feel Wanda's grip a little tense against your forearm that encircled her waist.

“Wait… do you still have your tactical gear on?”

“Eh,” you snorted, “No?”

And there were a few minutes spent like that, just between the sleepy caresses exchanged between you and your wife.

Kisses and touches reciprocated at the height of dawn as in a guarantee that you, in fact, were there for her, in the comfort of your bed, when was that the bedroom door opened slightly, as if what had done was just a summer breeze that had passed through every room in the house. You lifted your head from your wife's hair to find out what was going on there, at the foot of the bed.

Tommy's tiny left fingers were screwed into the doorknob, while the little boy's right hand was bringing with it Billy's forearm, who was standing behind him. The older twin was wearing pajamas with small dinosaur figures on his torso, while the younger boy was snoring to the blandishments of a half sleep in pajamas full of racing car figures.

“Hmm, boys…?” Wanda hummed, calling out in a sleepy voice that faded into the dark.

“Mama?” Tommy called back in a groggy sleepy thin voice, his iris eyes lavishing the same hue as yours half pressed down in a newly awakened, still half asleep mood, “Billy… Billy had another bad dream—”

“Mommy!”

The younger's voice, however, was energetic as it reverberated through the room, before a smudge of racing cars darted towards you, slamming into your chest as Billy spilled the room to knock you backwards, back to length of the mattress in an avid laugh.

Tommy, then awakened by his brother's avidity, soon tried to go with a bright smile to you, who snuggled both the twin boys close to your body warm.

“My little demon spawns! Hi!” you instantly erupted, placing warm kisses on the two boys' cheeks, “Hi, my little dudes. Hi. My God, I've missed you two so much..."

Wanda poured her sleepy face towards you, and you sighed, holding a steady gaze with the other woman – and it was a look elaborated in such amenity which Wanda bestowed upon you, with so much esteem and appreciation for her green irises, that you have not been able to contain in your core the radiant sensation of a warm softness, swelling your chest in profuse benevolence.

A constricted knot formed at the bottom of your esophagus, just to the middle of your torso, and your throat constricted in an exorbitant rush of unsyllabic emotions, which constrained the pulsing organ inside your chest, just so that the latter, in turn, would expand, so that the blood running through the branch of veins in your body would radiate into a tender, warm sensation of latent love.

“When did you come back, mom?” questioned Tommy, who had his small body supplanted by your right forearm.

“Please don't take too long to come back again, mommy."

Billy begged in sequence, his little face hidden in the gap that joined your neck to your left shoulder, pressing the material of your shirt between his hands as if he didn't want to let you go anytime soon.

“We miss you,” the little boy mussed against your skin, “I dreamed that you got hurt and couldn't come home anymore… I was scared, mommy. I was so afraid you wouldn't be able to come home anymore.”

You snorted, spraying the oxygen trapped in your lungs, an explosive softness in your heart light as a feather. You didn't want him to feel that way about you; that none of them would feel that way anymore. And so you blinked, flinching for a while, when it was that your vision clouded over in an aggregation of a sudden warm feeling that ached in your chest.

But Wanda came to the boy's support, gently in a caress imbued with maternal affability as she stroked the length of his back through the comfortable fabric of his pajamas, placing a long kiss on the back of Billy's head, between the short locks of light brown hair, giving off a mild scent of children's shampoo.

“Mommy's here now, baby,” she said in a low tone, looking at you over your son's head, “She's here for us.”

“Yeah,” you smiled small, turning your head at two broken angles to so, then, kiss each boy's forehead into your arms, “I'm here with you guys now. I’m here for you. All of you.”

ᗢ

The bright innocuous hue of cyan blue lit up the high morning sky, when did Billy and Tommy, quite energetic in their bustling activities befitting two bustling rosy-cheeked children, chuckled and kicked a football at each other across the backyard to enjoy the warm summer sun.

They did right after breakfast when you urged them to do so, with no room for further disagreements – Wanda, drenched in the sun, had spread a soft blanket on the green grass for her to get well. Your wife was reading a book of classic Sokovian literature while you ran after your two children.

Even if Tommy was just a white-shirted, green-sneakered embezzler cavorting across the grass, in nimble impulses which even amounted those who an average child would reach, you, in turn, after a long hour of kicking the ball to Billy (because Tommy wasn't much of a team sportsman himself) was just a figure lying on the sultry serenities, spread across the blanket with a swath of sunlight interspersed with your forearm, the tip of your nose pointing skyward.

You filled your chest with air, feeling a warm touch on your convex cheekbone, accompanied by a warm finger stroke. When you looked up you saw Wanda's face loaded with a small smile, sitting next to you – her brows furrowed and her eyes sweet, full of tenderness. Silently, she had smiled back at you, not showing her teeth.

“Hi, little witch.”

“Hi, detka,” Wanda whispered in a snuggled breath, tracing the perimeter of your brow arch with the soft digits of her delicate index and middle fingers.

“Your kids tired you, huh?”

“What's fighting a whole bunch of intergalactic bandits compared to playing soccer with your kids on a Sunday afternoon, right?” your voice was low and gentle, and she flowered a wry smile along her lips.

“But hey, I need to tell you something.”

“Something, huh?” Mouth dry and eyelashes fluttering as her eyes closed, Wanda made a vague sound of curiosity camouflaged beneath a limp smile.

“Yeah,” you propped yourself up on your elbows then, lifting your upper body from the checkered picnic blanket.

“I… I'm thinking of leaving the troop, Wanda. For good. I’ll be staying at home with you and the boys.”

On your wife's part, there was only a confused frown.

“But… baby, you,” she compressed her lips for half a second into a long pink line.

“All your life, you've always… you've always liked what you do, Y/n. I don't want you to give up doing what you love just to stay home watching some sitcoms and gardening with me—”

“Hey, hey,” you soothed her with a complacent smile, interspersed with sunlight as you adjusted your posture, “I want to do this, Wands."

Your left hand was splayed on Wanda's pale right knee, warmed by the blazing sun between the vault of the sky, the skin exposed by the red length of the fine summer dress your wife wore buttoned to her chest, granting there a caress to comfort her nerves.

“I really want to, you know? And I mean it. My whole life I've been going from planet to planet, fighting bad guys and getting my ass kicked, but… I think it's time for me to settle down, I guess. To spend more time with my family. With my amazing, gorgeous, perfect wife and my amazing—”

“Mama, Billy hexed the ball to keep hitting me!”

You and Wanda exchanged sunny looks for a measly second.

“Well, they’re,” you raised both your eyebrows, “Something.”

“They definitely are,” Wanda chuckled for a bit, before leaning forward to kiss your shoulder under the flannel shirt you wore open to your chest.

“But are you sure, honey? This is... a considerable change in your lifestyle. And I don't want you to give up anything for me.”

“Of course I'm sure, my love. I don't wanna miss any of this” you gestured between you and her with your right hand, “Anymore. I don't wanna be away from my family, Wanda. I wanna be here and share every moment, every experience, with them. With you, my little witch.”

You soon felt a gentle touch on the top of your cheekbone, accompanied by a warm finger stroke. Tilting your gaze to the side, you came across Wanda's face laden with a small smile – your wife's furrowed brows and sweet jadish eyes, warm as the sunbeams illuminating them. You'd smiled back at her and, in a gentle cut, with your eyes closed to just feel the moment, you bent down to capture the pulp of Wanda's lips with yours.

“Mommy!” Billy brandished from a distance, “Tommy is kicking the ball high so I can't catch it!”

“No I'm not, mom, he's lying! He's a doofus!”

“He’s lying that I'm lying, mama! And I'm not a doofus!"

"Eh," you sighed against your wife's lips, the tips of your noses brushing, your eyes so close together that her dark pupils were like two abyssal pools bordered by an emerald outline.

“Duty calls, right?”

“Didn't you say you wanted to live that life now, mommy?”

Her giggle came right after an amused eye roll from you.

"Very funny, little witch," and before you stood up, you once again stole a peck on Wanda's lips, "Very, very funny."

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sweetlypunk · 1 year

Text

OUTLAWS X READER Headcanons

this for that poll I did and Jason Todd headcanons won, but with a twist. Just writing something to cheer me up after someone made me cry:

i don’t have the money to read all the comics so pls bare with me and my knowledge exclusive from social media and dc pages that need better summary.

• Reader has Scarlet witch like powers. (Wanda in DC lmao)

• you trained with Constantine for a few years, until you met Jason and joined his emo group

• It’s more like a team with Roy and Jason but ofc pairing up with the iconic group from time to time

• Everyone is helplessly in love with you, but in different ways.

• You were kind to Bizarro from moment one, never making him feel like a monster. you have used your powers to soothe his mind, which he appreciates

• “you’re so ugly” “you don’t look like a princess”

• “aw Bizarro, you are too nice”

• you bought him a Black Canary vinyl, and he declared his love for you right then and there

• Artemis and you might have had a rough start, but eventually became close, too close

• You helped her see her strength in her own inside war

• She respects strong women, and knows one when she sees her. So she had a great respect for you, as you for her.

• eventually she might have had a small crush on you, though crushes are not her thing.

• you guys complain about the guys way too much (And you love it)

• Pls Roy thinks you are hot and that’s enough for him to love you.

• though you are pretty cool too. (And he’s aware of the fact that you can easily kill him)

• you both enjoy listening to punk bands and feel like rebel kids. Is fun.

• you also mock Jay together, he hates it.

• Roy and Artemis have gotten into fights while pulling you to each of their sides because of who should be the one to take you out

• “I’m the hottest redhead” “you’re the dumbest redhead”

• “Jason is also a redhead..?” “He is a fake redhead. He doesn’t deserve you”

• Jokes on them, while they keep fighting you are glancing towards Jason, who is just sitting with his legs propped up on a table, reading away

• he looks cute.

• but don’t tell him.

• honestly, you don’t know what’s going on with Jason. You are attracted to him, and you know he is towards you too.

• he is just so complicated

• sometimes the burning sensation of the Lazarus Pit gets the best of him and he loses it, his anger taking control. Luckily you are always there for him.

• your magic soothes him and helps him compose himself.

• you stay with your foreheads touching while you match your breathing. Waiting for him to take control over on his own.

• Sometimes just your touch, w/o magic, is enough to calm him. That sweet reminder that not every touch from a foreign skin on his means pain.

• the only pain you could ever cause him is in his heart.

• but he won’t tell you that. (Or to himself)

• you actually met when he was Robin, but you were a civilian, and neither of you recall much. You more than him though.

• someone once called you wannabes Justice Leaguers, You all showed your appreciation for the comment <3 🔪

• most of the justice league either doesn’t know about you, or are too scared to come close. Your ex-mentors love u tho (supes is another story, kay?)

• you all are just fun, traumatized friends hanging out

• they are your found family, and you wouldn’t change them for anything <3

#not exactly what y’all probably expected but yeah #had this idea on my mind for a while #anyone want more thoughts on them?? because I live this au #anyways #love ya #jason todd #red hood #red hood outlaws #jason todd x reader #artemis grace #bizarro #roy harper #arsenal #incorrect outlaws quotes #red hood x reader #roy harper x reader #Artemis grace outlaws #sweet writes

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koufli · 9 months

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141 with a famous reader? Actress like a reader who’s a iconic ( known to be the queen of action movies) marvel,dc,desperate housewives etc SHE HAS A BIG SUPERHERO ROLE (wonder woman,scarlet witch,catwoman)

❤️❤️❤️

꧁༺𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜! 𝙾𝚘𝚑, 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. ༻꧂

꧁༺𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙽𝚜𝚏𝚠! ༻꧂

1. Simon “Ghost” Riley.

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Simon hardly ever watches any movies, but the ones he watches are definitely some sort of fighting genre. He loves action movies, but he’ll never admit it.

He also never admits that he has a favourite actor, he’ll always say something like: “that’s stupid. It’s not like it’s realistic or real, why would I obsess over someone who’s just playing a role?”

Little does anyone know that you are his favourite actor.

He purposefully picks the action movies you’re in, and when he’s alone he’ll appreciate your skill in acting.

He’ll always start getting defensive if soap points out the fact that you’re in every movie he picks, so the TaskForce just stay quiet and grin in amusement that he may have a fond liking towards your characters.

He’ll for sure save the movies you’re in to jerk off to later, he doesn’t realise the extent to which you turn him on. He’s never felt like this about any other celebrity before, but he finds you so attractive it’s hard not to get a bulge when he’s watching you.

He’s the type to settle down after a long day, turn the Tv on and lazily touch himself to your action scenes. He has a huge thing for how vicious you look.

If you two were to ever bump into each other, he will be fan-girling so hard.

He won’t show it, but his heart will be pounding as he casually strolls up to you and asks for a picture.

He’ll clear his throat to get your attention and ask you in a very manly tone to get a picture.

If the two of you were together, he’d be the protective type - he’d hate the fame you’re getting. He’s not jealous, just annoyed that many men will also be drooling over you too.

He likes to keep you, not share you, and in public he’ll often show that.

If anyone’s asking for a picture he won’t let go, he’ll keep a hand around your waist and force the fan to get him in the photo too.

Hell purposely start kissing you/ your neck when paparazzi are around. He likes people to know you’re taken.

After a long day of shooting or a fan-signing event, he’ll fuck you for hours on end just to prove you’re his.

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2. Konig.

Is he in the TaskForce or am I being stupid? I searched it up cause I was confused and it said he was a TaskForce 141 operator…so someone correct me if I’m wrong haha.

This man has no shame. He’ll have posters/collectibles of your characters and keep them around his room.

He’s the type to print out pictures of you from google and make his own posters out of them.

He does get a little embarrassed when someone brings up the fact he’s practically in love with you, and he doesn’t necessarily talk to his peers about it.

He finds it more of a quiet hobby. So whenever one of his colleagues steps into his room, he gets very flustered about his obsession.

Is a hard-core movie nerd, so he pleasures himself a lot to your pictures, characters, movie scenes, anything that includes you. His dick looks beat up and down right swollen from how long he spends jerking off to you.

If he was to ever see you in public, he would go feral. He’d be so nervous at first, not knowing how to approach you and visibly beating himself up to man up and go speak to you.

He’ll eventually do it and approach you, he’s very flustered but gets things done.

He’ll chat for ages once he’s comfortable, sometimes over-shares and is down right creepy about how obsessed he is with you.

Konig has a massive ego, so he’ll start to brag about how big of a fan he is, starts to really get into the conversation.

If you two were a couple, he’d have a love-hate relationship.

On one hand, Konig loves the fact you two are together and can show the whole world, but then again, he likes keeping things private between the two of you.

He really hates big crowds and talking to people, so whenever it comes to interviews he’s the most awkward person ever.

Paparazzi wise, you’re actually pretty lucky since he’s a huge guy and nobody really dares to cross a line with him.

He has the most intimidating stare without realising, but to you he’s just a big teddy bear.

He’ll swear at paparazzi in German.

Absolutely loves watching a movie with you in and fucking you raw on the couch as you’re watching said movie.

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3. Captain John price.

He’s not sly or ashamed, he’ll be open about his liking towards you as an actress and a character.

He’s not the type to have any posters, figurines, etc, but this man will have a borderline obsession and has watched every movie you’re in.

He’ll scroll through your social media, sometimes sitting alone at his desk, busy with plans and work when he finds himself working his hand over his twitching cock under the table.

Price would definitely pull a picture of you up on his phone and cum all over the screen.

He likes badass characters, and you being in a lot of actions just does something to him - especially the outfits you wear.

If he caught you out in public, he would be so friendly that anyone would think the two of you are friends.

He’d approach you with no shame, his camera already out like a desperate puppy.

He doesn’t mean to, but invades your personal space a lot, will just hug you for a picture, wrap his arm around your waist, etc without knowing how touchy he’s being.

Tried to get your number ‘jokingly.’

If the two of you were a couple, he’d be devoted. He’d come to your sets, the biggest smile on his face as he watches you work.

On the red carpet etc, he will always have a hand wrapped around your waist - just a simple gesture to show everyone the two of you are a couple.

He doesn’t mind the fame you get, mostly because he’s with you all the time - so he keeps an eye on you.

This is just random - but if you smoke too he’ll blow the smoke into your mouth before kissing you (in public) in front of the cameras.

He’ll appreciate every inch of your body in the bedroom, especially after seeing you on set on the same day. He’ll beg you to take any outfit from the set back home to see you wear it.

This man will go on for hours, he has the most energy during sex.

sometimes when he gets jealous, he’ll take a picture of your nude body and save it just so he can act smug knowing he has it.

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There will be a part 2, for some reason my tumblr isn’t letting me type anymore. >:(.

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simpforfandom231 · 3 months

Text

Stunned by the Blyth sister *PART 1*

Pairing: Rachel Zegler x Y/N Blyth summary: Rachel Zagler discovers on the premiere of the new hunger games movie that Tom has a sister and boy oh boy, is she smitten for the girl. Tom first very protective over his baby sister, eventually trusts his sister and Rachel A/N: this was a request. i will tell you guys, I'm not into short stories as I have to much fun with it. this will be a multipart but don't worry I will try to contain myself.

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The premiere of the highly anticipated "Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" was enveloped in an electric buzz. The red carpet stretched like a scarlet river, lined with flashing cameras, excited fans, and eager reporters. The night sky sparkled with the glint of stars, mirroring the glittering anticipation in the air.

As the first limousine glided to a stop, the crowd's murmur rose to a crescendo. The door opened, and out stepped Rachel Zegler, the radiant starlet at the heart of the film. The dazzling flashbulbs captured her every step as she gracefully descended from the car, the slit of her elegant gown revealing glimpses of stardust heels.

Rachel, with an air of effortless glamour, smiled and waved to the throngs of admirers. Her presence was magnetic, and the crowd couldn't get enough. The excitement heightened as she made her way down the scarlet path, pausing for interviews, and showering the fans with gratitude.

Meanwhile, the night air was charged with the anticipation of the film itself. "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" promised to be a spectacle, and the cast, including the enigmatic Hunter Schafer and the charismatic Tom Blyth, had already become the talk of the town. The chemistry between the stars was a tantalizing mystery that fueled the fervor surrounding the movie.

As Rachel Zegler reached the entrance, the hushed whispers among the crowd transformed into cheers. The night was still young, and the premiere held the promise of an unforgettable experience. The stage was set, the players were in place, and the audience awaited the unfolding of "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" with bated breath.

As Rachel continued to charm the red carpet, gracefully navigating the sea of flashes and adoring fans, the crowd's attention shifted to the arrival of the next A-lister. Another sleek limousine pulled up to the premiere, and all eyes were fixed on its glamorous passenger.

The door swung open, and out stepped Hunter Schafer, an icon of both beauty and rebellion. Dressed in an avant-garde ensemble that blended elegance with a touch of defiance, Hunter exuded an aura of cool confidence. The cameras clicked furiously as she made her way down the scarlet path, each step a deliberate statement.

Hunter's presence added an intriguing layer to the evening. Known for her bold choices both on and off the screen, she became the epitome of the film's enigmatic allure. As she moved through the crowd, she shared knowing glances with Rachel, and the chemistry between the two stars sparked speculation among fans and the media alike.

The duo's camaraderie was palpable, creating a magnetic energy that enveloped the red carpet. Hunter, with a playful smile, engaged in brief conversations with reporters, dropping hints about the complexity of her character in "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes." The anticipation for the film intensified with each passing moment.

The night, which began with the radiant presence of Rachel Zegler, now took on a new dynamic with the arrival of Hunter Schafer. The red carpet had become a stage where the stars, like characters in a tantalizing drama, unveiled glimpses of the intrigue awaiting audiences in the cinematic world they were about to enter. As the two leading ladies joined forces for photo opportunities, the air buzzed with excitement.

Hunter Schafer and Rachel Zegler continued down the red carpet, their smiles and laughter painted the scene with an air of camaraderie that captivated onlookers. The chemistry between them became a spectacle in itself, leaving fans eager to see the on-screen dynamic they had forged in "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes."

Cameras flashed as the dynamic duo posed for photos, their infectious energy lighting up the night. Reporters clamored for a chance to ask questions, and one bold interviewer seized the opportunity to delve into the personal side of Rachel's experience with the film.

"Rachel, you and Hunter seem to share an incredible connection both on and off the screen. But we can't help but wonder, was it awkward working with your ex, Josh Rivera, on this movie?" the interviewer inquired, the question hanging in the air like a carefully crafted cliffhanger.

Rachel's expression momentarily shifted, a subtle acknowledgment of the question's weight. She gracefully composed herself before responding, "Working on this project was an incredible experience, and I think we all came together as a team to bring this story to life. Everyone involved, including Josh, brought their A-game, and we focused on creating something special for the audience."

Hunter chimed in, adding, "We're all professionals, and our priority was making this film the best it could be. The dynamic on set was collaborative, and I think that energy translates into the final product. It's a testament to the dedication of everyone involved."

The response, delivered with poise and diplomacy, seemed to satisfy the curiosity of the reporters. As Rachel and Hunter continued down the red carpet, the night unfolded like a carefully scripted drama, leaving the lingering question of the on-screen chemistry between the cast members as a mystery to be unraveled on the silver screen.

The interviewer, undeterred by the diplomatic response, continued to probe into the personal lives of the stars, determined to uncover any nugget of gossip that might fuel the media frenzy surrounding the film.

"Rachel, with all the glamour and charm around you tonight, fans are curious—is there anyone in particular who has caught your eye? Any off-screen romance blossoming amidst the drama of 'The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes'?" the interviewer asked with a sly grin.

Rachel laughed, her eyes twinkling, "Oh, you're trying to stir up some intrigue, aren't you? But honestly, right now, my focus is entirely on celebrating this incredible project and the amazing team behind it. The only romance happening here is the love we all have for bringing Suzanne Collins' story to life."

Hunter Schafer chimed in playfully, "Yeah, we're all in a committed relationship with this movie. It's a passionate affair with the art and storytelling."

The response was met with a ripple of laughter from the crowd, and the duo continued to navigate the sea of questions with grace and humor. The interviewer, while persistent, couldn't pry any juicy details from the stars. As the red carpet experience unfolded, it became evident that, amidst the glamour and speculation, the focus remained firmly on the film itself—the culmination of hard work, dedication, and a shared commitment to storytelling.

As the interview continued to unravel, the red carpet became a bustling tapestry of excitement, with more cast members arriving to join the festivities. The air was charged with anticipation, and the presence of the film's leading man, Tom Blyth, who portrayed Coriolanus Snow, added an extra layer of intrigue to the evening.

Tom stepped onto the red carpet, exuding a commanding yet charismatic presence. The flashbulbs intensified as the crowd's attention pivoted toward the enigmatic figure. Dressed in a sharp tailored suit, Tom seemed to effortlessly embody the complex character of Coriolanus Snow, his piercing gaze and confident demeanor capturing the essence of the Capitol's cunning president.

On Tom's arm was a stunning companion, her elegance complementing his own debonair style. Whispers rippled through the crowd as onlookers tried to discern the identity of the mystery woman accompanying the leading man. As Tom and his companion approached, the red carpet seemed to part to make way for the power couple of the evening.

Rachel, who had momentarily paused mid-sentence during the interview, was among those who couldn't help but be captivated by the entrance of her co-star. Her eyes widened slightly, and a subtle curiosity played across her features as she observed Tom and the elegant woman by his side.

The interviewer, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, adjusted the focus of the conversation. "Rachel, it looks like your leading man has just arrived. What are your thoughts on working with Tom Blyth and the incredible dynamic you two share in the film?"

Rachel, regaining her composure, smiled and replied, "Working with Tom has been an absolute pleasure. He brings such depth to the character of Coriolanus Snow, and the chemistry between our characters is a crucial element of the story. It's been a collaborative journey, and I think audiences will be intrigued by the twists and turns in our on-screen relationship."

Meanwhile, Tom and his companion continued to make their way down the red carpet, pausing for photos and exchanging pleasantries with reporters. The whispers and speculations about the leading man's date added an unexpected twist to the evening, setting the stage for a premiere that promised both on-screen and off-screen drama.

As Tom and his companion continued to strike poses for the flashing cameras, it became increasingly evident that the mystery woman was none other than Tom's little sister, Y/n Blyth. The realization rippled through the crowd, and a collective sigh of relief replaced the earlier speculation.

Tom, maintaining his suave demeanor, whispered comforting words to his sister as they navigated the red carpet. Y/n, although appearing slightly overwhelmed by the glitz and glamour of the premiere, managed a grateful smile at her brother's reassuring words. The bond between them was palpable, and the genuine moment of sibling support added a heartwarming touch to the red carpet spectacle.

Reporters, quick to pick up on the familial connection, directed their questions toward Tom and Y/n. "Tom, it's a pleasant surprise to see your sister here with you tonight. How does it feel to share this special moment with her?" inquired one reporter.

Tom, his arm wrapped protectively around Y/n, replied with a genuine smile, "It's truly special. Y/n has always been my biggest supporter, and having her here tonight makes the experience even more memorable. This film is a labor of love for all of us, and to share it with family is truly meaningful."

Y/n, still adjusting to the spotlight, added, "I'm incredibly proud of Tom and what he has accomplished with this role. Being here and witnessing the culmination of his hard work is a surreal experience."

The red carpet, which had initially buzzed with speculation and intrigue, now embraced a warm and familial atmosphere. Tom and Y/n posed for more photos, their smiles reflecting the shared pride in the moment. As the brother-sister duo made their way into the venue, the crowd's attention shifted back to the overarching excitement surrounding "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes."

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A/N: part 2 will be up quickly!

#rachel zegler #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x you #lucy gray x fem!reader #fandom #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #tbosas #fanfic

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

Text

[Part 4 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: " I think I'll... Thank the chef, yes. " (37.1%)

TW: Violence; Descriptions of cannibalism; Slight gore; Knife play; Extremely dubious consent.

New choice! [VOTE]

" I think I'll... Thank the chef, yes. "

Do you really have a choice anyway?

You recall him, his voice mostly. A southern drawl that sounded almost goofy, but imposing. Which is fitting, you suppose, he's an intimidating cinder block of a monster. A mushroom monster, you've seen one or two of those before, they're generally quite pretty in your opinion. The chef in particular struck you, the dotted patterns on his arms glowing faintly in the cavernous dark of Sybastian's mouth when he reached in for you.

In truth, you're not too sure how to feel about him. And that insecurity manifests when you purse your lips, possibly regretting your cooperation regarding these two's lascivious suggestions.

" My my, she really is tame. " Vesper fans himself. " Oh how I regret handing her over! You and I would have had so much fun back in Lust, honey. "

You shudder, believing every word he says. Maybe a bit of fear here is healthy, you can only imagine what kind of animal you'd become in his hands.

" Well then, go! " The Icon urges, facing away from you and Santi dramatically. " I won't let myself stare a second longer, lest I ruin this game. " This guy is such a theater dork, you can't believe you sucked him off. And so happily too.

Nevertheless, Santi takes the warning to heart, ushering you up as soon as you have a couple more forkfuls, not enough to last you long. It's a waste of perfect cuisine, frankly. The incubus walks you through the crowd, hand locked with yours, ever determined to soothe you via gentle touches. You appreciate that about him, this demon's been very kind to you so far, for whatever reason. Maybe because you chose him... Well, it was a good choice, you reckon.

Speaking of choices, you're still not too sure about this last one. Every step through the crowd makes your heart beat a bit harder, a bit faster. Will things work out here too?

" You're so tense, love. Is it butterflies? " Santi teases. " Don't worry, keep up this precious attitude and everything will be fine. "

Encouraging...? Not really.

The doors to the kitchen are tall, a brilliant white, and although there's supposed to be windows in each one of them, the glass there is obscured, meaning the inside is a mystery to you. You can hear the sounds however. Nothing too suspicious, chatter and clinking, mostly.

When the two of you reach those doors, your back is basically glued to Santi's front, fear and dread keeping you stock still. The demon is unbothered, simply pushing the large doors apart and edging you inwards.

Now this... This is what you call a real kitchen.

It's absolutely massive. Then again, that's a theme here. You do understand why things need to be larger in general, after all, many of the monsters here are bigger than humans by a considerable amount, their comfort must be catered to- However, this place tends to exaggerate in the dimensions of its overall floors. This entire kitchen is like a house, it's furnished with all sorts of equipment, reminding you of a world-renowned establishment. The brightness hurts your eyes a little, but you suppose it's necessary. How come you've never even once heard of this location?

The first thing your adrenaline-sharpened mind notes is the blood.

On what you very clearly recognize to be some modernized chopping block. On the ground, like something bleeding and squirming was dragged from said block to another huge set of doors, leading lord knows where. A large scarlet handprint you can only guess belongs to the chef on one of those doors. Then there's that cleaver, a scary-looking thing, embedded in the cutting block, some form of viscera and tissue still clinging to it. So he's not just a chef, yes, he's definitely also a butcher. And yet... You know, deep in your soul, whatever creature possibly lost its life here was likely human.

God help you.

That's not all though. As soon as your gradually panicking mind looks at anything but the trails of red present, it quickly finds ambulating creatures. Small. Smaller than the waiter, totally black but reflecting some sort of pigment, their heads floating as they work, each one clad in white kitchen garbs with varying designs. The first thing that crosses your mind nearly makes you vomit. Children?! You blink several times. No. No, they can't be, just because they're small doesn't mean they're infants, you haven't seen a single child here. Besides, you're fairly certain these aren't monsters, whatever the Hell they could be, they all look the same physically speaking, only their color accents and facial expressions distinguish them. This is some sort of clone fest. What are you looking at?! What is this?!

" S- Santi?... " Are you going insane?

" Oh right, you've never seen one of those before. " The demon reminds himself, chuckling at his own antics. You don't question why he's okay with the shady blood stains. " Those things are called bobbles. They're made here, sweetie, think of them as extra helpers. "

Things... They're things. Uhuh.

You watch silently for a couple of seconds. Most of them appear to be absorbed in their own tasks, moving efficiently between each other. Cutting vegetables, passing utensils, cleaning dishes, shouting for ingredients. Some of them occasionally glance at you two, the gray-colored ones completely neutral, the blue ones with a hint of trepidation. They're a bit cute, you'll admit, if you don't question the logic of their mere existence too much. You wouldn't mind having one of these. After a minute or two of watching these "bobbles" work in fast-paced harmony, you relax enough to detach from Santi, standing by his side warily.

Soon, one of the things, with a tall hat and slightly ripped garb, stomps over to you two. Its eyes narrow over pink-freckled cheeks, and he frowns at Santi specifically. A wooden spoon is slapped onto the demon's stomach.

" Ya hav'ta knock! Sir doesn't like it when people don' knock! " It drawls at the snickering incubus, who merely takes the hits without flinching.

" Whoopsie... Can you find it in you to forgive me? "

You muffle an amused noise as well, watching the small critter's face puff in annoyance for a couple of tense seconds. How can anyone take them seriously, with that adorable look? Finally, it gives Santi a bright smile.

" Okay! " Big pink eyes settle on you, after a concerning pause- Like it genuinely hadn't seen you all this time. " Ooh! Ya brought a piggy, sir's gonna like her! "

The bobble grabs your hand with its four-fingered one and starts trying to lead you somewhere, but you stand your ground. Santi's eyes widen and he flicks that intrusive limb away.

" Hey-! "

" No no Turnip, this one's not for the warehouse. " The look on his pale face is serious, making the bobble tilt its perfectly round head. " This one's for sir. He knows her. "

" Ooooohh... " The pink and black bobble waves its hands excitedly. " Special piggy! "

Wait, hold on- It's name is literally Turnip? What.

" Yes, exactly, I need you to get Morell for me, okay? "

" Yessir! "

Funny, didn't Grimbly say that too? Irregardless, the small being trots away, pushing past those heavy-looking doors with great effort and disappearing from sight entirely. You couldn't get a good look at what lies beyond, which is disconcerting.

The incubus begins looking around, and though you can't really tell what he's after, you don't struggle too much when he beckons you over to an empty marbled counter, and sits you atop it. O-Okay. Satisfied, he goes back to waiting, some form of excitement in his gaze, although it mixes with something else, dampening it.

" Am I... " You start quietly, some of the adrenaline crashing, permeated by uncertainty. " Going to be alright? "

The demon faces you, reading into your expression with a carefully neutral one as he ponders. You don't like that he hesitates, that he's thinking about his answer. That in itself should be telling enough. When you look away, defeated, he grabs your hand, a much smoother smile on those handsome features.

" You're tough. " He begins. " I can tell. Trust in your sixth sense and keep it up. "

He meant to be motivating, but truth of the matter is that was neither a confirmation nor a denial. You can see through it, he doesn't know, but the probably doesn't want to scare you either. Fuck.

The humdrum of the kitchen workers chattering to each other and utensils clinking around becomes an indistinct buzz while you recess into the confines of your mind, adrenaline diminishing in the face of relative inactivity. What is the world outside these walls up to, right now? With you missing, your responsibilities unaccounted for, has your family noticed your absence? Is anyone coming for you? Do they even know how you got here? Will you ever see th-

A sudden woosh snaps you back into alertness, the bloodstained doors leading to who knows where parting smoothly. And he powers in. Him being, of course, the chef.

While not nearly as large as monsters like Vesper, he's towering in his own right. You've never been one to realize how much body language matters, but looking at... Santi called him "Morell", you think- You feel more on edge than you ever did around the massive demonic lord. It's his stance. Shoulders always squared, always flexed and tense, he constantly looks as if moments away from lunging towards something or someone. The few minutes of indirect interaction you've had with this monster were enough to transmit an idea of volatility, as if violence is always just one blink too late away.

The white garb he dons can no longer be called white by any stretch of the imagination, coated in splatters featuring varying shades of red. He looks mildly tired, and angry. You're not sure if he's shining from sweat or some differing condensation- The breeze you felt as soon as those doors parted suggests what lies beyond is cold. Like a fridge room.

A crimson-stained towel hanging from his shoulder is used to wipe bloodied hands rather poorly, before the thing is tossed away, a bobble catching it before it can hit the floor.

" This better be worth mah fuckin' time demon, ah'm two seconds away from- "

As soon as those curious cyan hues bounce up to regard the demon, they instantly dart to you, and he stills. Oh yes, he definitely recognizes you. You're being stared down.

" Well then... " The way bold bright teeth poke above that chunky scarf doesn't bode well with you.

" I take it this is worth your 'fuckin' time'? " Santi jabs.

The large mushroom crosses his arms over his chest, not moving from his spot. " Wha's this all 'bout? " Although he makes an effort to glare at the incubus, he keeps looking back to your figure on his counter. You wonder if he might be mad that you're sitting on it.

" Oh relax, I just brought the minx here to see you. " Santi does a placating gesture with his palms, though you feel a slight sting of betrayal when he opens his mouth again. " See, we just had dinner. Our present here loved your work sooo much she said she'd like to personally give her regards to the chef, and who am I to stop her, hm? "

Morell looks straight at you. Nerves force you to gulp, scratching at your arm and face lightly, better to stay silent than say something even more embarrassing.

Eventually, he relaxes slightly. It's a minuscule change is demeanor, but you don't miss it. " ... That so? "

When the demon doesn't reply, you realize it's a cue. What are you supposed to say here? You did agree to it. Besides, if not him, then they'll just toss you at someone else. There's no easy win, might as well do what's kept you alive thus far- Being polite.

" Y- Yes. " You look him in those cyan eyes, oddly shrunk pupils swimming in a sea of black. He seems like the type of guy that values eye contact.

Slow, evaluating seconds pass.

" Aight... Tha piggy can stay with me. " He says it with a chuckle, looking a lot brighter than he did not even a minute ago.

Santi nods, then quickly turns to you, rubbing a clawed hand on your cheek. His face betrays sadness, a little bit of resignation, disappointment. " Sweetness, it looks as if this is where we part. " He leans down, nibbling softly at your bottom lip, before brushing through your hair and taking several steps away. As if forcing himself. " For now, of course. " You can't really tell if that's good or bad.

" Ya done? " A decidedly not amused voice rings. For such a large man, Morell moved quietly, having closed some of the distance between you. " Git tha fuck out already. "

Santi only chuckles, making his way out to the main restaurant area. " Have a great time, love. " One last cheeky wink is all you get, before the demon is out of your sight.

For the first time in a while today, you feel truly alone. Santi had given you a sense of security up until now, even if said sense was erroneous. Here however, you're entirely on your own, feeling hunted, feeling cornered. There's no telling what this monster might want from you.

Keep calm. Breathe. Smile a little.

You'll make it through this.

Morell stares at you intently.

You seem to be faring well for someone who got thrown to the wolves, all things considered. No longer encased in lace, sporting clothes he swears he's seen before, not trembling in fear with your tail tucked between your legs like earlier. Tsk, Santi's been treating you too well, you ought to have some fear if you're staying here for a while. Fear keeps you alive, keeps you sharp.

Point being, you're clearly the clever type, you wouldn't have made it this far in such an intact condition if you pushed the wrong buttons with the demon. Sure, the shroom's certain you had to pay some sort of price to acquire these accommodations, but you probably knew that prior. He can tell you're not like most of the pigs he gets here, the kind that squeal and kick as soon as he nears them. No, it's in your eyes, you're so much smarter than that.

Doesn't matter, you're about to sing to a different tune with Morell now.

The monster moves once Santi leaves the premises, to the sink only a small distance away from the counter you're perched on. Though his back is mostly turned to you, Morell is confident you wouldn't try to bolt out. You know that you can't, know that without the staff's protection you're just mince meat for the crowd. His hands are rinsed and the towel atop his shoulder is wrung dry of the last pig's blood. He's glad to be rid of that one, they were troublemakers since the time they got dragged in to the very last breath- But you gotta appreciate the consistency, at least. If it was a calmer day, he'd play around with them some more before bringing down the hatchet, so to speak.

Ridiculous, here he is saying he's so busy, about to damn it all just so he can fuck with you. But how can he not? Look at you, just politely sitting on his counter with that fat fucking ass. Looking around, occasionally smiling briefly at his bobbles' antics. It's like you fit here already.

" Well pumpkin- " He starts, giddy that your spine straightens immediately. " 'S a pleasure ta have ya 'ere in mah lil' kitchen. "

The mushroom turns then, wiping his hands, cracking his knuckles. " Ya like tha food? "

You study his face for a moment, confused by the hint of mirth there, but eventually deem it correct to nod. Morell doesn't really care, he knows his food is good. Though he's a little upset you didn't get to try the best parts. When Grimbly dashed into the kitchen, the waiter told him everything. You, tangled between Vesper and Santi- To think that you've gotten an Icon of Hell's attention this soon! What kind of honey is up your ass?! Santi specifically requested something without human, and now he knows why.

Out of genuine fondness. Because really, you don't know what human tastes like. His dishes can oftentimes make that meat blend into other types, visually. If he arranges it well enough, you'd deem it a regular old steak, eat it, and call it delicious. All the incubus had to do is stay quiet. But he went the extra length to make sure you didn't obliviously consume your own kind, the sap.

" Good... Tha's good. " He says, after a pause. " Stop by whenever yer hungry. Ah'll get'cha somethin'. " Something worth eating.

" O- Okay. " Yeah, you're starting to click some things together by now, aren't you?

" Y'know, I'm real hurt, piglet. "

You blink, likely wondering if "piglet" was meant to address you -It was- Unsure where he's taking this. The chef paces several steps your way, ending up looming by your side, enjoying the way you immediately cast your gaze to your lap. He twirls locks of your hair idly.

" Mah memory's blankin', who got ya outta that mimic's jaws again? "

Looking up, searching his face for clues you won't find, you answer hesitantly but truthfully. " It was you? "

Morell snickers. " Yeah, sounds right. After all, who knows what could'a been o' you by now if ah hadn't? "

A sour expression crosses over your smooth features. Yes, think about it. Linger.

" An' still, ya pick the fuckin' demon. " The chef shakes his head, ruffling your hair. You shiver beneath him, likely realizing, just as most others do, that there's a great deal of strength behind his spongy-looking hide. " Ya can't make this shit up. "

" ... But- " What could've been an attempt to defend your incorrect choice is swiftly ignored.

" But what, sweetie? I was tha only one who could'a freed ya there! " The shroom points to himself, as if it was obvious.

Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, you don't need to know that. Morell stands and watches a myriad of expression race on your complexion. Fear, confusion, dread. " I'm... I'm sorry? "

Hah, oh that's so cute!

His guffawing nearly shakes the kitchen walls, rocking his chest. You're adorable, he'll give you that much. Is this your attempt at placating him?

" 'S not a big deal anymore. " He waves, eventually stopping his fit of laughter. " C'mere. "

You hesitate a healthy amount, he can understand it. Though eventually, when Morell makes it clear he's not going to drop it, and that his patience isn't limitless, you plop down from the counter, taking careful steps his way.

" Closer. " He beckons when you refuse to stand in front of him. " Ya spooked? " Of course you are, he's been around your kind for so long, you're all like mindless gazelles, deers in headlights, pigs squealing to the skies and running around in circles.

It's when the chef places a heavy palm on the counter, and it rattles, that you zing to action and get just as suffocatingly close to the monster as he was hoping. " There we are, was it hard? " It was rhetorical, but he's delighted that you shake your head anyway. " Thought so. "

Morell takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you.

All humans are petite, and although there's something dainty about your demeanor right now, he can see your muscles tense like coiled springs, ready to snap, ready to run. Fight or flight is a beautiful look on you. You have a good amount of meat on your bones, he can tell with a couple of hearty gropes to those bare thighs. Hmm yes, fine cuts, good stuff. His fingers knead at you like dough, and Morell feels a sick little twitch in his pants when you start trembling.

" S- What are- "

" Sshh, quiet naw. " He warns, letting full hands roam around. The chef thrills himself with your obedience, going from calves to back of the thighs, gripping your ass firmly and snickering at your choked noise.

You're a lovely little thing, the kind he feels sorry for when he butchers, because they could last so much longer. Demand here is crazy, which is good for his pockets, but also saddening at times. Morell doesn't get to fool around with the pigs as much as he'd like to anymore. Especially not tonight! When his hands move to your front, palping at your belly, he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

Practically empty. As he suspected. You haven't eaten anything properly yet, certainly not with those sluts, they probably think feeding you jizz will work out just fine, typical. They don't know how to care for a piglet at all! And to think you willingly chose him, how dim are you? You wince when he grabs at you more firmly, and it's enough for Morell to give it a rest.

" You don' look so full, piggy. " The chef tuts, patting your abdomen. " Knowin' them types, you prolly didn' get ta eat much since ye got here. "

He watches you squirm briefly, either tickled by the softer touch or wanting to stop it. " I'm... It's okay, I'm not that hungry. "

Liar. You're small and weak, you should be eating anything you can in this environment. So dumb, so naïve, it's a wonder luck has been on your side thus far. " Ya sure? " He squints.

" Y-Yep, thank you. "

Cute.

" Welp, in that case- " Morell lets some of his anticipation show, shrugging and moving to be mere inches away from your form. " We can skip right to tha good stuff. "

The whites of your eyes widen and you give him this puzzled, anxious look. Oh come now, don't play dumb. " Ya wanted ta thank me, right? " The shroom grabs your tiny hand in his and puts it to his chest, a lidded, much more playful and relaxed expression on his face. " Don' lemme stop ya, sweetie. "

Oh, the gradually rising panic in your face is just precious. He's a lot, not to toot his own horn, but Morell gets your nervousness. He's been called "an absolute unit" a couple of times and it strokes his ego. Speaking of, you need to be stroking something else right now. He's been pent up these last couple of days, preparing for this event hasn't been kind to Mori's libido.

The chef is starting to think he's going to have to do things the hard way until you finally move. While your palm shakily slides down his chest, feeling slightly excited breathing, he busies himself with untying the long sash around his waist. Much to his disappointment, you don't grope, not that he expected you to anyway. Chuckling, Morell corners you further against the counter, spotted arms on each side corralling your body. His cock jumps in his pants when you give him a doe-eyed look full of uncertainty. You're purposely lingering on his abdomen, avoiding what lies beneath. The chef responds to this by flexing slightly, allowing you to feel his well-built constitution. Yeah sure, he's showing off, let him have this.

You don't look him in the eyes when you eventually relent, fingers sliding down. He's impatient however, roughly grabbing your hand. He reaches for one of the torn sleeves of his white smock and parts it, shrugs off the other one, letting the outfit fall to the floor, kicked aside by heavy-looking boots. You're apparently fascinated, studying his upper body openly, visibly flustered. Morell smiles when you focus on a particularly dark mark on his arm, stare all you want. He rips you back into focus by firmly smoothing your hand over the raging hard-on tenting his black pants, unable to conceal his laughter when you audibly gasp. Aw, don't flatter him like that.

When Morell drops his grip, your fingers remain static, and he rolls his eyes. " C'mon, ya scared? " He parrots.

Scared is an understatement.

This guy puts you off. Plus, he's packing heat.

At the risk of sounding filthy, you'll admit he's not the biggest you've seen, that title now falls squarely onto Vesper. The Icon's size didn't strike you as something note-worthy- He's already gigantic in comparison to you, of course his junk would be appropriately huge as well. Not to mention your mind was a little clogged at the time. Morell is a whole other story, you might very well have to take him, and he's bigger than Santi for sure. It's cause for some alarm, but then again, this whole situation is.

He seems to have taken your shock as a compliment, though it's very clear the monster's patience is waning the longer you stall.

Shakily inhaling, you give the chef what he wants, stroking generously through the fabric and occasionally squeezing at him. It... It doesn't feel like he has anything on beneath these pants. Your efforts get the monster to sigh in pleasure, looming over you and adjusting, giving you more to work with. There's nothing left to the imagination, the shape imprinted on his clothes lets you know exactly what you're dealing with. And frankly, a part of you is oddly flattered by how much he appears to be getting into it, pressing back against your hand, throbbing, humming lowly.

He seems frustrated, stressed maybe. You don't know how much of a good idea it was to let those two basically nudge you into this.

" Mmf, they teach ya some or are you jus' excited fer me already? " Morell drawls.

Declining to answer, you merely keep going. Part of you was worried he'd call you out, as you're very clearly trying to rile him up so he'll settle for a sloppy clothed grind- As if.

The ring of a zipper coming down is predictable to you, a flushed blue cock already stained by its own precum bouncing free. Fuck, he's really not packing lightly. The look on the chef's face says you better resume, so you opt not to test his patience too much. He's heavy. To be fair, you don't doubt he's dense in general, but the warmth of his member on your hands has you gulping for what might come next. Nevertheless, you try not to look at your own motions while you work him, gaze scanning the kitchen instead.

It's incredible. All this time, the group of bobbles hastily working hasn't casted a single glance at you two. It's as if... This is normal to them. Like they know better than to gawk. You can only wonder what types of obscenities go down here.

You're still staring by the time Morell groans, reaching for your top. The surprise of slightly cold fingers edging up the hem of said cloth has your motions faltering, resigning yourself to letting the cook remove that oversized shirt. What's the alternative? Make him angry? You agreed to this, might as well try to get into it.

Nipples pebble in the cold air near immediately, and the chef laughs quietly to himself at the sight of your breasts, a discolored tongue wetting his teeth. " Everythin' about ya is jus' tha cutest, ain't it? " He grins. " Lookit 'em... "

Big palms frame your tits, and it's only now that the expression "baker hands" takes on a whole new meaning. Morell kneads at your chest in a confident and strong manner that has your breath catching. You're ashamed to admit no one's given your tits this type of attention before, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of your unexpected pleasure. A high-pitched noise escapes when he plucks at one bud, and you realize your hand has been merely wrapped around him all this time when the monster thrusts impatiently.

" Oh? Did'ja like that? "

" N- No. " Yeah, super believable.

" Lyin' piglet. " The soft scolding is quickly followed by him bending to kiss and lick shamelessly around your tits. You can't help gulping when teeth glide and catch slightly on skin. Fuck's sake, if he actually- He nibbles slightly, spare hand forcing the one around his dripping shaft to work faster. When you look down, seeing a teal shade on his dark cheeks and most of your breast in his blunt-toothed maw, you almost panic.

" D- Don't-! " Did he just fucking throb in your hand? " Please- Don't bite! "

That bright flush intensifies, hot puffs of air wetting your skin as he all but steams, teeth flirting with your pain tolerance, forcing a frightened keen out of you, before he peels back, panting.

" Fuck yeah, yer a good catch. " Morell groans, zipping his pants back up in a vaguely uncomfortably manner. " Don' move a muscle, ya hear me piggy? "

When you don't answer immediately, he gives you an "are you testing me?" glance that installs the fear of meeting the maker into your bones.

" Y- Yes, Morell. "

Why did you say his name? You didn't need to that, you just added a personal touch into this. God damn it. Perhaps it's for the best, because the chef seems appreciative, smiling before hastily cramming himself through the bloodied doors he came from.

You have no idea what he's doing, what he'll return with. And frankly, part of you doesn't really want to know. When Morell's footsteps become distant, instincts beckon you to look towards the opposite direction, to the second pair of tall doors, the one you entered from. It's only a matter of putting on your shirt... Where is it? Who took it?! You look around frantically, but the thing has apparently vanished. Fuck's sake...

Regardless, you can just step outside the kitchen, maybe take your chances... It would be risky, but if you get in that fucking elevator! You know that's the ticket to leave this dump. You just have to figure out which floor leads to the ground level, it's that simple.

You don't even realize you're walking towards the exit.

One of the bobbles, a blue one with a shorter hat, stops next to you, some others giving you side-glances. Although she doesn't utter a word, you can see the silent warning in her face. A cautious shake of the head is all you're given, and then the doors part. Not the ones in front of you though.

" ... Where d'ya think yer going? "

It's as if your lungs collapse for a moment, air refusing to fill them. " No- Nowhere, nowhere, I- "

" And 'ere I thought ya'd behave. Tsk. "

When you zip around, you get to see the large mushroom power towards you, a sturdy-looking rope on his hands. Of course, the thing is adorned with aged red marks. There's a sadistic sort of glee on his dark face, making you take several steps back. His chest puffs, the monster bellowing out.

" Hah! Try it, piggy. " Morell taunts. " Ya take a single fuckin' step outta those doors an' ah'll hunt ya fer sport, pertty baby. "

You don't doubt him.

All you can do is gulp and hope for the best, feet rooted to the tiled ground in spite of the screaming voice that begs you to haul ass. The monster's still snickering to himself when he reaches you. You're no longer spared a hint of gentleness, as the chef grabs your arm tight and drags you to the center of the kitchen, towards one of the horrid, blood-stained chopping blocks.

You're flipped around and slammed face-first onto the wood, assaulted by the sensation of residual, cold viscera on your face. The metallic scent mingles with a woody aftertaste and you start to panic under his hand, very aware a huge cleaver lies only centimeters away from your person. Is this it? Is this the end? Is he going to cut your fucking head off?

" I'm- I'm sorry, please God- "

Your flailing, although definitely amusing to the cook, is halted when he squeezes exceptionally hard on your arm. Your limb grows numb from the sheer force, he's cutting off blood flow. A little more and he'll break your humerus, you can feel it. Getting the message, you go entirely limp, near hyperventilating.

" Easy piggy, easy- " There's a condescending pat to your head. " I'mma jus' tie ya up, 'kay? Don' make me hurt ya. " You can feel the weight of him poised on your back for a moment. " 'Cause ah'll fuckin' love it if I hav'ta. "

You whimper.

" Gonna be good for me? " He tests, already nudging your arms onto your back. You can feel the rope being weaved between them in certain patterns, movements rushed but expertly practiced. You nod rapidly, full of fear, and he hums while tying knots behind your back. One. Two. Three?! Oh, you're not making it out of this one on your own. For sure.

When the chef lets go of your bound limbs, not too tight but not too lax, you give them a test, making the shroom chuckle. " Mm, fine work if ah do say so myself. Good ta know I still got it. "

When fat fingers tug at the hem of your shorts, you can only try to focus on your breathing, shivering when the fabric is dragged down to barely hang by your knees. You still ooze remnants of your slick from prior activities, and Morell doesn't seem to miss that either, because he uses it as lube to jam a digit into you. The insertion is sudden enough to have you jump, leg jerking.

" Ey naw, don' buck at me. " The monster snorts, curling his finger and testing the waters.

You don't know why, or how, but your body warms regardless of the circumstances, walls tightening around that sole digit as if to encourage the chef. And all you can say to yourself is that it's a result of Vesper and Santi's influence. Residual effects, probably. It must be! You wouldn't be into this otherwise, right? You wouldn't find it hot that you're helpless, being molested by a gross butcher on his own filthy chopping block. No... God please no, you don't think you can face yourself after this.

The mushroom monster, oblivious or uncaring of your inner turmoil, simply forces a second finger in, without much resistance. Fuck him and his deliciously thick hands, the familiar stretching sensation sends sparks flying behind your eyelids and you close them. You're not the only one enjoying themselves it seems.

" Damn piglet, lookit that, ya needy girl. " The chef starts eagerly fingerfucking you, giggling and moaning quietly to himself when you reflexively tighten. " The Hell were you tryin' ta run if ya needed me this bad, hm? Too much pride in that lil' noggin'... " He teases, panting.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard you may want to will it into reality, closing your eyes won't simply make this unrequited pleasure fade away. It won't make you any less wet and inviting for the chef, it won't quiet down the shlick of his lurid fingerfucking that somehow manages to ring louder than the humdrum of the constant cooking around you. All that effort is rendered moot when you let out a fevered moan and flex hard around the cook's hand, wanting more.

" Hhn- Fuck yeah. "

Far too jarringly, your cunt is emptied, there's some frantic rustling behind you, a ziiiiip, you know exactly what it is that slaps onto your ass. He doesn't seem very calm.

" M- Morell. " You hope using his name will sweeten your request. " Please be gentle, please. "

" Aww. " He chuckles, stray hand reaching to tickle under your chin, the tip of his member lines up perfectly against you. There's a gentle push, and you do your best to relax, glad he's at least doing that much for you.

Tickling becomes a solid hold of your neck.

" You'd like that, wouldn' ya? "

Morell slams home with a brute strength that not only knocks the wind out of your lungs, it feels like he's shoved your guts up to your throat. It's such an intense feeling that you believe you're sick for a moment, vision blurring as you sob out a mangled cry. For a couple of seconds, you just gasp, pussy spasming and legs shaking erratically, staring straight ahead at the grayish wall.

The chef grunts and sighs loudly, canting his hips to make sure he's fully sheathed inside you, his balls tighten and he shudders in total bliss. " Fuuck, ya wanna milk me dry, don'tcha piggy? "

You really don't care for his taunts, but it's hard not to squeal when a palm strikes across your left asscheek with the fury of a thousand suns. He amuses himself with this, it appears, stroking over the sore spot while he rocks back and forth inside your pulsing walls. He seems to struggle with your tightness, and you struggle with his girth as well, the two of you locked until he thinks to torture your poor clit. " Real fuckin' tight fer someone who's been foolin' 'round with demons. "

He won't let you squirm your way out of his hard rolls, continuing the torture until you're sufficiently relaxed for Morell to establish a slow back and forth, every thrust making you dig your nails into the flesh of your own arms. " Ya oughta stay 'ere fer a while longer. This cute an' this hot? Ah can't jus' let ya out. "

You're just trying to adapt to the cook's size, but he's far too eager, not giving you enough time to adjust before he's speeding up, jostling you. A tongue tries to wet dehydrated lips, tasting nothing but smeared blood while the scent of exotic spices clogs your nostrils and his lewd panting rattles your ears.

You're sure you must have paled like the cauliflower he has laying around when the monster stops to yank that gruesome cleaver out of its groove in the wood you currently lay on. You're not sure whether to cry, scream or simply accept things as they are. Morell grabs a firm handful of your hair, pulls your head back, and allows the blunt end of the blade to flirt with your throat.

" Naw then, do me a favor- " The blade flips, pressing dangerously against frail skin as Morell starts drilling into your small figure. " An' oink fer me, piglet! "

Oh you do.

Even if you wanted to be quiet, you couldn't.

It's everything at once. The absolutely merciless pounding into your pussy, reaching deeper than it should -Why doesn't it hurt?- Dragging hellish waves of bliss through your poor overworked brain, the terror of that cleaver possibly sinking into your body, slitting your throat open so you bleed out while he happily fucks you till your dying breath, becoming nothing more than yet another ambiguous red stain in this morbid kitchen. Nothing could ever prepare you for this, so you moan, whimper and squeal like the animal he wants you to be, doing your best to hang onto anything, tears and drool cascading down your face.

You can't tell left from right anymore, shivering at every bestial noise Morell makes above, feeling his balls slap against you with every hard piston, it's really no wonder your confused body couldn't keep up, and you truly screech in the wake of your jarring orgasm, seeing dots swimming in your vision.

" Atta girl! Nice an' sloppy... "

In spite of his confident tone, Morell's rhythm falters at your clenching. And, much to your relief, he lets the cleaver fall to your side, focusing instead on using both hands to frame your head while he bends to be flush against your back. It's a humiliating position, but you've long since stopped giving a shit about dignity here. In fact, you just want to make it out of this hellish kitchen mostly in one piece.

There's not much room for thinking when he grunts like a bull into your eardrums, gasps turning into silent gasps the second he starts slamming home deep and hard. One, two, three, four and-

His deep growl shakes you from head to toe, legs kicking instinctively as his cock flexes and he fills you like an obscene bucket. It's an uncomfortable sensation that applies too much pressure everywhere, and even if you can't be sure, you think you came again from it, very briefly. The sound of cum splattering to the floor rings in your mind while you simply wait for Morell to milk the last of his orgasm so you can come down.

" Hm, didn' have this much fun in a while, piggy. " He finally mutters, massaging your hips calmly as he rises. " Gotta say, I'm real glad ya chose ta gimme your 'regards'. "

You just groan senselessly. Your legs feel like melting jelly.

You're not sure what he's about to do next, and neither of you get to know anyway, because a group of short pitch black bodies scram in through the front doors.

" Sir! Sir please, you have to help! "

" It's serious! "

" The giant snake woman swallowed Alfredo!! "

... What?

Staring vapidly at the creatures, nothing happens for a couple of static seconds. Then the cook sighs, exasperated, before sliding out of you slowly. He shushes you when you wince, patting your sore thighs before fully laying you onto the large chopping block. You can't muster the energy to care, merely laying there and hissing at the increasing discomfort from having your arms tied this long.

" Ah'll be right back, pumpkin', promise. "

The last thing you hear is stressed murmuring, a zipper sliding up and boots stomping away, another woosh signaling the doors have closed and you're now mostly alone.

Yes, finally, some peace... A smile of relief almost makes its way to your lips before your consciousness fades entirely.

...

" So this is where she's been all this time... "

" Geez, can you believe it? I bet they just threw her in here to fend for herself. "

" In all honesty, I am appalled she has lived this long. "

" She's special, can't you tell Nebul? "

" You're much too prone to theatrics. "

Distant voices lull you back to reality, tired eyes blinking open, adjusting to the lights in the kitchen once more, before appraising the two studying your curled up form. One being the waiter, and the other that guy wearing a cloak, with the strange-looking head.

" Oh here she is, hi! " The smaller one waves, smiling bright.

" You cannot stay here for long. " The other warns. " If you intend to live, that is. This floor has fallen to total calamity. "

Yeah, you bet.

" I'll take care of this, you can go back up! " Grimbly hastily cuts in.

" You misunderstand, I'm not leaving without the human. " Although monotone, even you can sense the warning implied. Not that his coworker seems to care.

" Yeah right, like that's happening. Who knows what you'll do to this poor girl, you freak. "

" It would certainly be better than becoming an impulsive vampyre's bloodbag. "

The waiter's eye twitches. " ... How fucking dare you. "

Alright, back to square one it is. You need to leave before Morell comes back, and these two don't seem like they'll reach an agreement anytime soon.

You'll have to pick again.

Sighing, exasperated,

#Morell oc #Santi oc #Nebul oc #Grimbly oc #monsterfucker #terato #terat0philliac #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend #minors dni #not sfw

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reverieblondie · 4 months

Text

Partners

Pairing: Kaine Parker x gnSpider-person!Reader

Warnings: Kaine has a potty mouth and threatens people but other than that just fluff!

Summary: You get called into Miguel's office for a new mission, you wonder who you will get partnered with, though it shouldn't be a surprise by now...

A/N: okay I know this is the fic nobody is asking for but the heart wants what the heart wants. and I want grumpy Kaine Parker to hold my hand while he threatens to beat up people. No, I'm not going to apologize. This fic was inspired by @eughi wonderful art of Kaine! if you want to know more about this character please check out their account they are amazing!

The picture that started my obsession here

he's just so pretty!

Word count: 2,797

In the dim light of Miguel's office, you stand listening patiently as he debriefs you on your next mission. This is all nothing new to you, some dimension, a new anomaly, you have had this debriefing many times now. Though the places and targets change you know what to expect by now there is only one thing that keeps you listening intently to the drull words of the spider society's brave leader.

Once he's done drilling into you what dimension and what anomaly you are supposed to capture, it's the moment you had been waiting patiently to hear, who your partner is for this mission. This was the thing you looked forward to hearing, Partner assignments. Would it be Jess? Webslinger? Spider-cat? You loved that little ball of fuzz. As you're cycling through the possibilities of who you could be teamed up with, it's then that your answer walks into the room.

Kaine Parker, in his very iconic suit of red and black, it’s littered with stitches. You didn’t know if they were from getting patched up after fights or just for aesthetic purposes. But either way, they did look pretty cool. Scarlet lenses of his mask keep on you as his tall figure approaches, you know he's studying you and also sizing you up. -Honestly, it’s no surprise if he was, he sizes up everyone without needing to say a word.

Being paired with Kaine again shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Not being exactly social and his fighting methods leaning towards more…intense, it didn’t exactly make him easy to work with. Not surprising though, The dude is the definition of intimidating with his 6’4 height and broad muscular figure, plus his brash nature made it hard for people to adjust to. Aside from Peter B and Ben, you're the only other person he would go on missions with. Opting to go alone when paired with anyone else, and if they protest they are promptly threatened. Edgy, but you kinda enjoyed that about him.

Standing next to you now you wait patiently as Miguel debriefs him, it’s a much more summarized version than what you had to experience. Kaine is not the type to listen to a lengthy explanation, he’s more get the facts than get out kinda guy. Hell he didn’t even go to the mandatory monthly meetings.

As you stand there your senses are going haywire, looking up to where they are thrumming from you see those lenses staring down at you. Kaine seemed to have a staring problem and your spider senses always went crazy when he was. Maybe it was because of his sheer size, or it was possibly from seeing how easily he had zero qualms ripping into enemies when he deemed it necessary. Whatever it was, no other spider made your senses crazy like he did.

Once Miguel is done with his debriefing, Kaine is already opening a portal to the dimension ready to get this over with, ruthless and efficient. What more could you want?

“I want them captured in one piece, Kaine,” Miguel calls after us as we approach the portal.

You give a dutiful nod in understanding, Kaine however…

“Keep telling me what to do and I will break your fucking face…”

Luckily for you, he said it as he went into the portal, the last thing you need to be doing is trying to pull those two off each other….again….

----

“Yeah, then Kaine called like a million spiders to cover up the anomaly and proceeded to beat them to a pulp. He really can’t stand any Jackel variant.”

Munching into your burger you're still talking about your mission you had with Kaine a few days ago. Hobie and Gwen seem bewildered by your story, the young spiders having had little to no interaction with Kaine always seemed to look forward to the stories of your missions with him. Though you argue Peter B has the better ones involving Kaine. As you talk Peter nods in agreement, seeming to signal that he understands all the little quirks that make up Kaine.

A few more minutes into your conversation Jess is strolling up to the table to join you all for lunch. Using only the context of the story she quickly deciphers who you're talking about.

“Kaine huh, another intense mission with the scarlet spider?”

“Yeah, tasked to catch a rogue Jackal. You would think Miguel would learn not to let Kaine on Jackal missions considering how messed up they are when they arrive here. But he gets the job done and he's not a bad guy to have on a mission. Plus sometimes it’s funny when he cusses at the anomalies.”

They give you an odd look and you shrug going back to eating your food. As you're eating you're suddenly being interrupted mid bite by Gwen.

“Okay I am sorry but I am dying to know. What does Kaine look like?”

The completely odd question takes you back for a moment, “You know…red lenses…black and red-”

“No, no, no,” she quickly interjects “I mean his face.”

Without much thought, you point towards Peter, and this causes Peter to scoff, “Okay just because he's one of my clones doesn’t mean we are exactly alike…”

Taking a second to think you nod, “You know you're right. Imagine a way cooler-looking Peter with long auburn hair and face scares.”

The young spider's face lights up at the information and Peter shoots you a displeased look, he already gets teased enough from how Kaine and Ben are total beefcakes compared to him, but Kaine has height and cool looks beating him now. Then you suddenly remember something.

“Oh sometimes he forgets to shave so he will have a scruff going on, honestly looks pretty nice on him and fits the vibe.”

This comment seems to make Jess snicker and smile towards you. “Well just wait till he finds that out…he won't shave anymore…”

Rolling your eyes you shoot her a glare, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Peters chiming in now. “You know what she means…”

“Okay, let me just set the shit straight. Pardon the language kids. Kaine doesn't like me like that, he threatened my life the other day when I got in his way.”

“Then why does he only partner with you?”

“With that logic, he might like you, Peter?”

“Woah, woah, first gross, second me and Ben are like his brothers. You're the only one not in the family he will be around.”

“Because he has to.” you counter

“Because he wants to.” Jess persisted

Going to move to your next argument about how you two are nothing more than partners; it being because maybe he just likes your fighting style, your watch is suddenly blaring calling you in for a mission. Gwen and Hobie laugh as Jess and Peter give you a smug look as you get up to leave the table. Shielding your face from Gwen and Hobie you mouth a “Fuck you” to them. Sure Kaine's vulgar language may be getting to you but that doesn’t mean you're going to be cussing at kids…not yet at least…

As you walk to Miguel's office for your mission assignment, you find yourself walking rather briskly. Kaine might be your partner again…

The thought makes your senses haywire and you walk to the office faster…

—-

Kaine ended up not being your partner for that disaster of a mission. Laying in the infirmary your whole body still aching despite the painkillers you were given. Moving carefully you're very aware of the stitches patching up your side that ache in every which way you move. Your first mission with a different partner besides Kaine in forever and it failed ending with you both in a hospital bed.

Lucky for you though you got to be in your own private room not having to hear the complaining of your partner's screw-ups that resulted in this. Miguel is sure to give them a long lecture when they get well…as for you you're probably going to be HQ bound till you heal up all the way. You just had to be one of the spiders without fast healing…just your luck…

Laying there you're trying to just close your eyes to try and forget about the terrible mission and your current pain but a loud bang outside makes you jump and look towards the door to the hallway. Loud yelling that sounds…familiar…Then it's that tingling of your senses only one spider can get from you.

“Where are they?!”

Crash, Bang, skreech!

“Wait, they are resting you can’t go in there!”

“What are you going to do? stop me?”

Before you can even register what’s going on Kaine is pushing through your door locking it so nobody can come in. Turning to you he looks pissed! You open your mouth to say something but he quickly silences you,

“Shut up!”

Next to you now; the conversion abruptly ended before it could begin, he’s looking over you examining your face and your bandages, bruises and cuts litter your body and the bandages are wrapped all around you but you're okay, you're alive. Suddenly Kaine claw like hands are gently gliding over your skin tracing the brushes and cuts as gently as possible. The touch sends shivers through your body you're hoping he doesn't notice.

Still surveying you he takes his mask off abruptly, his scared face is scrunched in an angry expression, and deep brown eyes are staring at you studying you. You can’t help but feel more intimidated with him out of his mask than when he’s sizing you up in it. Those intense brown eyes are magnetic, his handsome features on full display. Some people might think the scars take away from his handsome face but you think it only makes him look better. Way cooler-looking than Peter…

“Who was with you?” he says in a suddenly calm voice compared to how he came in.

“What?”

“Dammit! Can you not hear? Who were you partnered with and what dimension was it?!” - and the yelling is back…

“Spider guy from 2782, dimension 38, vulture anomaly…” you say quickly, still confused why he was asking…

His hand comes up to rub the top of your head gently, a very personal and friendly gesture for him. Staring intently at you, there is almost a softness in his stony eyes, it's…different from any way you have ever seen before. Your breath seems to suddenly evaporate from you. This is a completely different…loving side of him you have never experienced from him…it doesn't seem real…are you in a coma?

“I’m going to kick his ass, then kill that anomaly…” -no this is real…

Once he's done speaking he’s stopping his rubbing on top of your head and now he gently glides his hand down to your cheek.

“Wait-”

Before you can protest he’s already at the door unlocking it and leaving the infirmary. Gone without even looking back at you…typical Kaine…

____

The rumors of Kaine's warpath quickly spread all over HQ and got back to you. Spider Guy got spared due to the doctors intervening after much convincing. Though all that rage ended up getting released on the vulture anomaly you and guy failed to get.

Vulture barely made it out with his life and was in critical condition once he was turned in. Of course, this caused Miguel and Kaine to get into it. Those two seem to always find a way to fight despite them having similarities…maybe one day they could be friends? Though with how little they interact with people socially, their hanging out would properly be them just staring at each other in a room plotting how they would kick one another's ass.

It has been a few days since the mission you were released from the infirmary but still not cleared to go back to mission work. So this means your days have devolved to you walking around HQ. Why you didn’t just take this time to sit at home in your dimension and relax you didn’t fully know. Though a part of you truly knew what you were doing, deep down you were looking for Kaine.

Of course after everything that happened and after what he did. He didn’t even come to talk to you. Or check in on how you were healing, hell everyone else did but your usual partner goes on an almost murder spree but can't bother to say hi. Though that's not his style, he's the ‘only I can kick your ass and if anyone else does it they are a dead’ kind of friend. Plus when he saw you he seemed…upset, could it be hard for him to see you inquired? For a moment you ponder the idea before quickly shaking it off.

Walking some more around HQ you find that you're in a more isolated area, a rarity for the society. Usually, everyone was so packed together so this is a welcome change of pace. Enjoying the quiet you look to the windows to observe the city but your eyes land on something else. Kaine without his mask hair tied in that half-up knot that compliments his face shape so perfectly. His brown eyes are so focused on the city, he looks lost and thought, you almost feel bad for going over to break his concentration but you haven’t seen him and you want to talk to him.

Making your approach you plop down next to him, your eyes are on him but he keeps his forward but you know he knows it's you next to him so you skip the greetings.

“So, I heard you went a bit overboard. Not that I'm surprised. But breaking the anomalies' kneecaps and leaving the dimension in a panic does seem like an escalation from your normal methods…” Leaning over you try to meet his eyes but he keeps them straight ahead before he sighs,

“I would have burned that dimension down if I needed to” Your mouth slightly drops and your eyes widen, well that's ...different… your heart racing now you feel that familiar tingling…how this guy rattles and intrigues you.

Sliding his eyes over he looks at you before he turns his head fulling, eyes tracing where your inquiries once were but have now been healing. In his eyes you think you see relief though with Kaine’s stoic expression you can never be too sure…

“Why did you do all that?” -the question seems almost stupid in hindsight.

Kiane's eyes meet your face for a moment staring silently into your eyes before looking back out into the futuristic city. “Your my partner, and I don’t need you getting hurt because of some other idiots mistakes”

The answer makes you laugh a bit, always so judgemental and coarse about others. Then the words you always think of asking but never do slip your lips next, “Why do you like to go on missions with me?”

Kaine takes a minute to think before he shrugs “I guess, things are just a bit better with you around….”

A smirk appears on your lips and as he looks back at you and huffs with an eye roll. “Shut up…”

All you can do is slightly laugh before nudging him “Well, I like being around you too, best partner someone could get paired with.”

You know that even if his face isn't changing in expression you know your words mean something to him. At least that's what you're hoping, Kaine is great and you're fond of him despite how others feel about his rough nature. He's a good guy even if he doesn't think so, but you are willing to take the time to convince him of that.

A couple of minutes pass before you move to get up and give him some alone time, something you are sure he values. As you stand you feel something that stops you in your tracks. Looking down you see Kaine's large hand on yours holding you gently, moving your gaze to his face you see that he’s avoiding eye contact looking away from you with a furrowed brow and a slight pout on his lips.

Sitting back down you hold his hand gently back and you watch as the blush slowly dusts his cheeks. You have to hold back the urge to call him cute. Holding your hand is a huge step of affection for him if you tease him now he will never be vulnerable again to you.

Time passes and you keep your hand in his as you gently slide your thumb across his large hand. The silence is comfortable and as you turn to look at him you swear you see the slight tinge of a smile….what a softie….

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rosencrantzsguildenstern · 2 months

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The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. At the heart of it all is eighteen-year-old Juliette Cai, a former flapper who has returned to assume her role as the proud heir of the Scarlet Gang—a network of criminals far above the law. Their only rivals in power are the White Flowers, who have fought the Scarlets for generations. And behind every move is their heir, Roma Montagov, Juliette’s first love…and first betrayal.

But when gangsters on both sides show signs of instability culminating in clawing their own throats out, the people start to whisper. Of a contagion, a madness. Of a monster in the shadows. As the deaths stack up, Juliette and Roma must set their guns—and grudges—aside and work together, for if they can’t stop this mayhem, then there will be no city left for either to rule.

i NEVER read ya romance usually but this one KICKS ASS. theres something poignant about a r+j who fell to their family feuds and that makes the plot more unique (it takes place like 5 years after some of the r/j events)... the prose is really good as is the atmosphere, also there's a trans character who's fitted well into the historical setting and the choice of historical setting is also fun

West Side Story is set in the mid-1950s in the Upper West Side of Manhattan in New York City, then a multiracial, blue-collar neighborhood. The musical explores the rivalry between the Jets and the Sharks, two teenage street gangs of different ethnic backgrounds. The Sharks, who are recent migrants from Puerto Rico, and the Jets, who are white, vie for dominance of the neighborhood. The young protagonist, Tony, a former member of the Jets and best friend of the gang's leader, Riff, falls in love with Maria, the sister of Bernardo, the leader of the Sharks.

it is a musical. it is wonderful. it is relevant still today. Shakespeare and Bernstein, Soundheim, and Laurents. iconic

#i've seen these violent delights get some flack but i honestly really love it #these violent delights #west side story #i had no clue what west side story was really about until now #i should actually watch it #tournament

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seasidepierre · 2 years

Text

sunkissed face (bonus part) | charles leclerc

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS MASTERLIST

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

summary: You've known the start of their story for a while, but have you tried watching it happening through Charles' eyes? Have you tried walking in his designer shoes, when he first met the girl of his dreams?

warnings: Honestly, at this point, I'm just happy to be writing about them again, so enjoy this bonus part!

words count: 4.1k

There was no denying that Charles loved his team. He was a Ferrari fan, ride or die, and to be able to drive for the iconic scarlet scuderia was every bit of the dream he had hoped and wished it was. It was everything he ever wanted, everything he worked for, what he promised his dad would happen and what Jules would have got and that he felt he needed to get, to honour him the best he could. Driving a Ferrari Formula 1 car in the streets of Monaco, his hometown, his streets, his home, was even better. It felt like walking on a cloud, except he knew the storm could come at any point.

In all the sunshine and warmth of the Monégasque Grand Prix, Charles could feel the cold sweat starting to gather, right in the small path of his spine in his back. He knew his home Grand Prix to be unforgiving and all the luck he could find in this world didn’t mean shit here. Talent wasn’t enough in Monaco and he wondered, for the uptenth time since he woke up, if he would finally manage to actually finish the race. Any place would be nice. Obviously a win would be even better, but he knew his car and he knew its pace. If he managed to grab P6, he’d be happy, especially here.

“Are you okay, cabron?” Carlos gently asked.

The older guy had been welcomed in the team a few months ago but he had already found his rightful place next to Charles. It felt right to have him on his side, with a kind word, a funny joke and a way to breathe a little when the competition was getting a bit too intense. Charles liked Carlos. Carlos liked Charles. All good in the world.

“I’m okay,” Charles nodded.

“You look like you’re about to vomit,” Carlos grimaced.

“That would not be cool for our guests,” Charles countered.

Ferrari had organised that event with their main sponsors. They wanted to make sure those people knew what their money was for and that it was appreciated. Rub some backs. Shake some hands. Laugh at some questionable jokes and pretend a whole bunch that they cared about their opinions, of course. Charles already knew it was going to be exhausting. At least the weather was nice and the sun was out, bathing the area in a golden glow that felt a tiny bit recomforting, if you take into consideration the fact that he was currently about to either explode in a giant mess of tiny confettis or, like Carlos said, to throw up. He was starting to feel like tiny ants were gnawing at his fingertips, which usually wasn’t a good sign.

For two hours, Charles had to bump elbows with 50 year-olds who cared about what he had to say, only to be able to quote him on the LinkedIn posts they would make with the selfie they took with him. He couldn’t care less about their opinions on why he was about to win, just because he knew the streets by heart. The ones who actually were interesting were the ones who knew the sport and who took the time to chat about the last races, instead of the constant pretending that they offered, like they knew what they were talking about, like they were here for the race and not just the bling of the Monaco GP.

Charles loved that he was racing at home, he loved what his GP meant for the championship but he also knew that it attracted a lot of people who only came to be seen, only to be able to tell their colleagues or so-called friends that they were there, only to be apart of the so-called society that he wasn’t born in but got thrown into, even though he didn’t like it very much.

Charles loved racing with everything he had. It was his reason to live, it was what made him get out of his bed in the morning, what drove him to work out so much, what both his heart and mind told him to do, at every hour of every day. Those people were there because it was “cool” to be in Monaco. They didn’t care about who would win on Sunday afternoon. They couldn’t explain what the difference was between a blue and a black flag. It was exhausting. And the line that piled up in front of the little table that they had put him and Carlos behind, in an effort to maintain the social distance, was frankly disheartening. It’s not like they were equally interested in Carlos. No, they wanted a picture with the “little prince of Monaco”, as if they didn’t know that there was a prince already and his name was Albert.

Fools.

The line of baldening skulls in front of him was starting to be really frustrating. Charles was getting tired of signing cards, posing for pictures that would end up on Facebook with a caption about how “hard work always pays off and you’ll be in Monaco too!” or just having to smile at all of them. If at least the younger ones he was seeing were kids, he’d be okay, but instead, he had to deal with teenagers who couldn’t give a fuck about him but were forced to pose with him because their dads had said so.

He was about to sign his hundredth card when he caught a glimpse of a white dress with red flowers entering the private area that had been reserved for this event. And it’s not like he cared about the fact that it was a woman nor that he really wanted to put his flirting skills to the test, because he knew he was a blubbering mess, but he welcomed the change with open arms. And if she was just there for a picture, at least it’d be a picture with a woman and not another CEO.

Charles waited, impatiently, to see that dress pop up in front of him. He hadn’t even seen the woman who had slipped into that flimsy little dress this morning, but he knew that he had liked the pattern of it and that was pretty much it. At least she was on theme with the Ferrari event. It would be a nice difference compared to the people he had to ask the PR team to be careful about because they had come clad in Red Bull teamwear. It was so dumb. At least pretend you’re into Ferrari.

But as the hour passed by, the white and red floral dress didn’t appear in front of him, though it did appear in the corner of his field of vision, like some kind of magic that calmed him down greatly whenever he would be able to actually see it. The first thing he noticed was the legs peeking out of the hem of the dress. They seemed really smooth and for a second, he wondered if they truly were or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then he discovered that the hair resting on top of the fabric shone in the sunshine and it felt like being blinded by a spotlight.

Eventually, he managed to make it through the never-ending line of people who wanted to shake his hand, even though they’d been told they couldn’t, for safety and health reasons. His wrist was sore from signing all the autographs and he had stopped smiling behind his facemask about fifty selfies earlier. Charles had mastered the art of squinting his eyes just enough to pretend he was equally interested in them as they were in him. Which, in hindsight, might have been equal, knowing they only cared about him in the picture and he couldn’t be bothered to learn their names. The only people he made a conscious effort for were the little kids who looked thrilled and starstruck. He was weak for a small kid. He couldn’t be cold to a small child.

“We’re done, I think,” Carlos sighed, stretching his arms behind his seat.

“How long do we have to be there for, still?”

“About thirty minutes, time for everyone to get out of the area, I guess.”

“Nobody even cared to learn about the team,” Charles groaned. “I can’t believe the marketing staff put all of this together, only to be ignored. They all came to take pictures of my car, none of them took a second to read the panels.”

“Except for that girl,” Carlos nodded, pointing at someone with his index. “She didn’t even come to us. Spent the whole time reading and taking pictures of the panels.”

Charles’ heart somewhat tumbled down his chest. The red and white floral dress appeared clear and straight in front of his eyes, worn by the young woman he had only caught glimpses of so far. She was beautiful. Not model-type beautiful, but Charles never really cared for people who always looked straight out of magazines. From where he was, he could see the little scar on her elbow and the fact that she was close to heat exhaustion, if he believed the fact that her skin was far from matte and that her hair was kind of sticking to her neck.

Still, she was beautiful.

What a foolish idea, he thought, to want to be introduced to the only person there who hadn’t cared one bit about coming to him. After all these fake ass people coming his way, he had to be interested in the one person who wasn’t. Typical CL16 luck, if he was honest.

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink. Want something?” Carlos asked.

“I’m good. I’ll walk a little, got some ants in my legs.”

“Got what?” Carlos scoffed.

“French expression,” Charles shrugged. “My legs feel kinda numb.”

Carlos tssked and hit him behind the shoulder, making him laugh a little. For a couple of seconds, Charles thought about what he was supposed to do. Should he go introduce himself to that girl? Or was she truly not interested in him, the slightest? He wasn’t the shiest guy around but he knew not to bother a lady when he clearly didn’t want to be bothered. And that girl looked so engrossed by what she was reading, it almost felt criminal to go and rip her away from the words she was pouring herself into.

Curiosity always killed the cat.

Charles got up and walked to that girl, as gently as possible so as not to appear as a complete douchebag. She was looking at his car like it was the most incredible thing she had ever laid eyes on. Charles could relate to that pretty well. It always amazed him to sit in a F1 car. It was even more amazing to know that this particular one belonged to him. Sure he couldn’t drive her in the streets and of course, his apartment building didn’t have the adequate parking space for her. He knew that his loan to the Prince’s collection was the option for her to be taken care of and to be appreciated as she deserved. Sometimes, though, he wished he could be the only one to enjoy her.

And then, sometimes, he remembered that she was truly a beauty to be shared with the world. Especially with pretty girls who had a floral dress with the team’s colours on it and an empty glass of champagne, bending so close their noses were about to touch the paint.

Charles cleared his throat, a reflex he couldn’t control, which made her jump a little and straighten back up. He hated that he disturbed her and made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to admire his car. But the lovely shade of embarrassment that he could see creeping up her neck matched his and he knew he would be okay.

“That one’s nice, isn’t it?” He laughed.

“It’s gorgeous”, He could hear her smile, before she turned back to him.

The look of pure surprise on her face was enough to make him smile gently. That’s a look he was used to and that he found familiar. That’s a look he only saw on the little kids’ faces today. The look of a true fan, of someone who knew what they talked about. The look of someone who admired the drivers, because they were a part of the sport they loved so much. The look he had when he first met Michael Schumacher. Not that he had that big of an ego, but it felt nice to be truly seen, after all the time spent with all these hypocrites.

Charles got to notice that she was considerably smaller than him. Not tiny, but a good twelve centimetres separated him from the top of her head. She looked adorable and Charles knew it was problematic, when her eyes finally met his and his heart kind of gasped in his chest.

He was going to be a fool for this girl and he instantly knew it.

“Nice to meet you”, He truly smiled, for the first time in an hour.. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were out there not mixing with the crowd, do we scare you or something?” He scoffed.

“Not at all”, She blushed. “You guys were a little bit out of reach, I thought I’d enjoy the exhibition while you were busy and try again later.”

“The event is almost finished, the major part of the guests is gone”, Charles explained.

“I guess I lost track of time”, She gasped. “It was so interesting to learn more about the team and the history of it.”

“I know, right? I’m Charles, by the way.”

“I know”, She smiled, ending the internal debate between his head and his heart, begging him to take a step back and be chill about her. “Y/N”, She introduced herself, stopping in the middle of reaching his hand out to shake his. “Hmm. Can’t do that anymore. Sorry.”

His head stopped screaming to stop being stupid. As she retracted her hand and settled it on top of her upper arm, his brain finally went amute and gave up the fight. His mind had lost the battle to his heart. He laughed, shrugging, wishing he could shake her hand and feel if her skin was as smooth as it looked. He too had raised a hand to shake but had to take it back to his pants’ pocket.

“So you’re a Ferrari fan?” He started, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness that was settling in.

“That I am. Always been. I have to thank my father for that.”

“He raised you well, then”, He joked. “Are you gonna be at the race this weekend?”

“Yes, I’m here with a couple of friends, we might be able to visit the paddock a bit.”

“Nice”, Charles commented. “I hope you’ll pass by the Ferrari garage!”

He hoped he could see her again. Just a couple of seconds. Or minutes. Or maybe hours, even days, if she agreed. Hell, at this point, he would have taken a lifetime. Her voice felt like dripping honey to his ears, the sparkles in her eyes looked like little stars he could wait to learn the constellations in. He had barely met her and he already wanted to know more about her.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Charles rocked a little on his feet, unsure what to say next. He knew it was really bad. That he couldn’t dive head first like that with someone. That it wasn’t rational, nor cool, to be attracted to someone over banalities like you were exchanging.

“This one’s my favourite”, He commented.

“Isn’t it the one you won Monza with?” She asked and his heart missed a beat again.

“It is”, He smiled, so happy and impressed that she recognised it. “It’s also the one I won Spa with, a few days before.”

“It was such a difficult weekend”, She grimaced.

“It was”, He shrugged, suddenly thrown back to the difficult events of the weekend, to the tears, to the heartbreak and the sudden ache in his chest that would always accompany the memories of his first F1 win. “But I’m glad I could bring that for our close ones.”

“You did good on that race. I can’t imagine what you must have been feeling like..”

“It wasn’t easy. But I made it through and that’s all he would have wanted, so I’m happy for that. Some of our friends needed some good news that weekend.”

“I guess.”

In the conversation, he didn’t notice her taking a small step backward, closer to the car. Her hand had slipped from her upper arm to rest behind her, but it was now barely a couple of centimetres away from his car. The small cord around it apparently didn’t meet her path, because she was as far from it as she could physically be. For one second, Charles wished he could do what he wanted with the car.

And then he remembered that he owned the car and that he, therefore, could do absolutely anything with it.

“Hey, you know that being with me gives you the right to cross that little cord, right?” He teased.

If her big round eyes weren’t enough, the small gasp she let out when he threw a glance all around him to make sure the majority of the guests were either out or still uninterested in him, sealed his complete infatuation with her with a pretty big bow. Once he was sure there weren't many people left, he unclasped one side of a rope and presented his hand to her, inviting her to come on the other side, which she did, her hand almost taking his before she retracted it. Charles had never cursed Covid more than at that moment.

“God, she’s a beauty”, She sighed.

“I like that you called her a “she”. She’s a “she” to me too”, He laughed.

“It would have sounded weird if I said “he”, I think. She just looks so fierce, it had to be a “she”, don’t you think?”

“I totally agree”, Charles nodded. “Do you want to do something a bit crazy?”

“If you’re suggesting taking it out of this little tent, I’ll have to deny. I’m not sure I can drive her”, She grinned.

“I didn’t talk about driving her. But you’re welcome to sit in, if you want”, He invited.

Another gasp. Another somersault of his heart in his chest. That delightful sound would be the end of him, for sure.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret”, He whispered. “She’s mine. I can do whatever I want with her.”

Her hands flew to her cheeks, in a futile attempt to not look like a complete fangirl. Charles couldn’t care less that she was one. Actually, no, he cared a lot. It was so endearing, after all he went through that afternoon, that it made his chest warm and fuzzy with a feeling he hadn’t had felt in a very very long time.

“You’re gonna need to take your heels off, it’s a delicate paint.”

“Of course,” She almost excused herself, bending down to unclasp the little fastenings of her shoes, setting them down and letting her heels touch the floor.

She lost another eight centimetres and Charles wondered if she could fit in the pocket of his Ferrari dress suit. Then he shook his head slightly and got to work.

“You’re gonna want to put your foot here,” He pointed. “Don’t put too much weight on that part, but support yourself on the halo and you should be good to go.”

Of course, the poor girl struggled in her dress and in an attempt to save her the embarrassment of showing the few people left what colour her underwear was, he delicately put his hands on her sides and slowly lifted her higher so she could climb over the halo. Once her feet were on the seat, she was quick to slide down and sit, which impressed him more than it should have.

Her eyes couldn’t settle on one part of the car. He could see the internal battles over whether or not she was allowed to touch the wheel. He loved that she was careful and respectful, but still overtly giddy about the experience.

Charles had never put a girlfriend inside one of his cars, except for his road cars, of course. But the view of that tiny woman, sitting in his F1 speedster, made him adamant that he had been right not to, because if there was a first to be had, he was so extremely glad that she was the one he’d remember forever.

“Liking it?”

“This is a dream”, She confirmed. “You really can’t see much when you’re down there!” “That’s because you’re a bit smaller than I am”, He laughed, because surely there wasn’t much else he could do without sounding like a proper nutcase who was already head over heels. “My vision usually goes up to the beginning of the halo”, He explained, by showing with his hands where his field of vision would end. “How’s the seat?”

“A bit hard. Does your suit have padding or something?”

“It’s a bit padded, indeed”, He conceded, so relieved that she had curiosity behind the look. “Not much, but it helps.”

“The wheel has so many buttons, how do you remember every one of them?”

“I just learn them, to be honest. And sometimes I ask for help with the radio. Want a picture in it?”

“Yes please, I can’t wait to show my dad!” She giggled.

For one second, he almost fished his own phone in his pocket, but then he remembered that he would look like an absolute dumbass if he did so. He waited a second for you to pass your phone by and immediately went to work.

Charles took the time to photograph her in his car, through different angles and different sides. He even got someone to take a few pictures of them both, even if he wouldn’t have it as a souvenir anymore. Selfishly, he hoped that one day she’d see that picture again and remember that he had been nice, and not completely ridiculously attracted to you. Maybe she’d think about him with a fond heart, like he would her.

It took twenty minutes for her to run out of questions about the car. She asked about the feelings he got from the cockpit, about the focus he had, she asked what was the most expensive part and which one he couldn’t understand why it was there, which made him laugh way more than it should have. She wondered how he could feel at ease so close to the ground, how he could scratch a bothering itch on his back if it happened and how truly hot it got, inside the car. All these questions that made him smile or made him think, that got him to appreciate her curiosity and train of thoughts, that got him to appreciate the fact that she was invested in what he had to say.

It was so refreshing to be able to discuss mechanics, in the most basic form of it, with someone who already had a tiny bit of knowledge about the sport.

Charles showed some buttons, encouraged her to push them, even though it wouldn’t do anything. He pointed to different parts, earning “oh”s and “ah”s that made his heart soar a little, then he helped her out of the car when they both felt like they had extended their time a bit too much.

He didn’t say anything as she fastened her shoes back on, feeling like he was about to say goodbye to a person he would remember forever, wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t let her slip away.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, Charles”, She smiled again. “Never would I have ever imagined something like that happen!”

“I’m glad I could help in realising a dream, then”, He grinned too. “Hey, have you been able to visit Monaco?”

“Not really, not yet”, She grimaced. “But so far, everything I’ve seen looks so beautiful, you really have a nice place.”

He didn’t really have to think much about it. He didn’t want to regret, one day, not having extended that meeting for as long as he could. He didn’t want to sit in his apartment, in a week, in a month, in a year, in a decade, wondering what would have happened with that girl if he had just got his shit together.

“I’m done for today, let me show you around.”

The smile she gave him was enough to reassure him.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to wonder, later.

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