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rafecameronssl4t · 2 days ago

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When in Charleston || Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary: you have a horrible encounter with one of Drew’s fans out in public.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 1,060

MASTERLIST

You and Drew stroll through the streets of Charleston, the cobblestones beneath your feet felt comforting and gave you a sense of familiarity. You had just arrived in South Carolina to support Drew whilst he was filming the next season of Outer Banks. Layla and Freddie, your lively dogs, bound ahead, their enthusiasm contagious as they sniff at every tree and shrub in their path.

Your arm was wrapped around Drew's waist as his arm rested around your shoulder making you closer to him as the two of you talked about anything and everything, just enjoying each other's company and the quietness of the street. Your peaceful stroll is interrupted when a young woman, probably in her early twenties, catches sight of Drew from across the street.

Her eyes light up with recognition, and she all but sprints towards you, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. You exchange a knowing glance with Drew—this isn’t your first encounter with a fan, and you’ve learned to take these moments in stride. “Hi, Drew!” she exclaims breathlessly, her excitement barely contained. Drew, ever the gentleman, offers her his signature warm smile. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, his tone friendly but measured.

The woman doesn’t seem to register his response, already fumbling with her phone. “Oh my god, can I take a picture with you?” she blurts out. Without so much as acknowledging your presence, the woman thrusts her phone into your hands. “Here, take this,” she says bluntly, her tone leaving little room for negotiation. The abruptness catches you off guard, and you hesitate for a moment before muttering, “Uh, okay.”

Drew’s eyebrows knit together slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, though he masks it quickly. As you position the phone, the fan moves closer to Drew, looping her arm around his waist with a familiarity that makes your stomach tighten. Drew, ever respectful, keeps his hand hovering lightly on her back, his body language stiff. “Make sure it’s good,” she instructs sharply, glancing at you with a dismissive look before focusing all her attention back on Drew.

Drew shifts uncomfortably, clearly irritated by her lack of manners. Her tone is enough to make your cheeks burn, but you force a polite smile and frame the shot, snapping a couple of photos quickly. When you hand the phone back, she snatches it without so much as a “thank you,” her attention already fixed on the screen as she inspects the pictures. Satisfied, she offers Drew a quick, “Thanks!” before walking off, leaving you both standing there in an awkward silence.

Drew lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “She seemed nice,” he mutters, his sarcasm biting. You can’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, a real sweetheart,” you reply dryly. “They’re not usually like that, trust me,” he says, his irritation still evident. “It’s fine,” you reply, brushing it off, though the encounter left a small sting. Drew notices, of course, because he always does.

Sliding his arm around your shoulders, he pulls you in closer. “Don’t let it get to you,” he says, his tone softening. Then, with a cheeky grin, he adds, “I didn’t even really smile in the photo. So, joke’s on her.” You can’t help but laugh again, his humour cutting through the awkwardness of the moment. That’s one of the things you love most about Drew—his ability to make you feel better, no matter what.

Later that evening, as the two of you relax at home with Layla and Freddie curled up on the couch, Drew pulls out his phone. Typically, his Instagram is a mix of work updates and occasional behind-the-scenes shots, but tonight, he decides to share something more personal.

drewstarkey

Liked by yourusername, madelyncline, brooke_starkey, oliviajade and 2,937,180 other

I don’t usually post things like this, but it feels important to say. I absolutely love meeting you all and am always so grateful for your support—it truly means the world to me. That said, let’s remember to approach these moments with kindness and respect, not just towards me but also to the people who are important in my life. Being demanding, shoving phones in someone’s hands, or disregarding others isn’t the way to go. Let’s keep these interactions positive and memorable for all the right reasons. Much love to every one of you!

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yourusername: 🐶❤

↘️ drewstarkey: love you!

madelyncline: Always so proud of you for standing up for yourself and the people you love. You and Y/n deserve all the respect. imu guys!

↘️ yourusername: miss you more 🥺

alexademie: preach.

hichasestokes: Couldn’t have said it better myself, brother. Love you and your crew! 🙌

user1: You shouldn’t even have to say this, but I’m glad you did. You and your loved ones deserve all the respect in the world 🫶

user2: I seriously don’t understand people who call themselves “fans” and do disrespectful shit like this

user3: Is this about the incident that happened today??

↘️ user4: yup. It’s all over Twitter and tiktok rn

↘️ user5: the “fan” is getting slandered so hard rn

user6: wait I’m so confused. What happened?

↘️ user7: basically a “fan” came up to Drew and Y/n and demanded y/n to take the photo for them and she was just overall rude

user8: so funny how Drew isn’t even smiling in the photo 😭

↘️ user9: HAHAHAHHA I WANNA SEE THIS PIC

↘️ user10: it’s on TikTok!!

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ang3ltine · 3 days ago

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𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 ꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ - 𝖿𝗍 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗑 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (18+) MDNI!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were getting ready to meet up with friends who you've missed so much and haven't see them in a while, Se mi on the other hand became a little jealous.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dirty talk, fingering , mean dom! Se mi, slightly bratty sub!freader and implications of angst

" You're the worst "

You were a breathless mess, with mascara stained tears streaking down your rosy cheeks. The pretty little lace dress was stripped from your body and was thrown next to your vanity.

"Oh...? Trust me sweet thing , we're only just getting started "

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

It was around 7am in the morning as you started getting ready for an important date with your friends.

Lotte World usually has a long line soon after opening , so you guys decided to arrive there early by 9 am sharp.

You hadn't seen them for a while, so you were pretty excited. Today, you picked out a white lace dress with a layered skirt and puffed long sleeves with cuffs. It had a corset like design, and you paired the dress with thigh-high socks with trimmed lace and pale lavender ballerina sneakers.

"Hm? Why're you getting dolled up so early in the morning?" a pair of arms hugged your waist, the voice hoarse from sleeping. Se mi rests her chin atop your shoulder. She had messy bedhair that fell over her eyes, as she watched you intently while you applied the final step to your makeup.

Your sugary pink lipgloss that smells of Strawberries and Vanilla.

"Oh uhh well I'm going out with some friends today. I thought you already knew?", Se mi hummed to yourself as she thinks back to yesterday.

"Nope," giving an emphasis on the p, "I thought we we're gonna sleep in today...".

"I'm sorry Se mi but I really miss hanging out with my friends, I haven't seen them in so long," you say gently while you turn around to cup her cheeks and gingerly kiss her lips.

The kiss awakened something within her and she wanted to taste more.

"Can't you cancel and go another day?", the finger that was tracing the shape of your hip came up to swipe at your bottom lip.

"There's no reason for you to not spend time with me right now..", her voice going an octave deeper and you can see the pools in her eyes darkened with desire.

She had already reached for the back of your dress,undoing the neatly tied bows. You swiftly caught hold of her hands before she could fully take it off.

"Look babe, I'm really not in the mood for your jealousy act right now. I can't just cancel my plans just because you wanna satisfied your needs."

You had no intentios of snapping at her but before you could apologise, she hauls you over her shoulder and plops you down onto your shared bed. Making you sink into the plush pillows beneath you.

"Shit, please, I didn't mean to-" , Se mi shuts you up by locking her lips with yours. Nibbling on your bottom lip, making you whine. Almost drawing out some blood.

She carefully hikes the hem of the skirt up, revealing your dainty pink underwear.

"Oh? What do we have here..?", she drawls as her slender fingers crept over your throbbing cunt. You're not sure when it happened but you only grew more wet just by her painfully hot touch.

She gathers your slick, making it act as lube as she glides over your clit. You tried closing your legs cause you didn't want her to win so easily.

But she was too quick and pried them open and then reached for you phone from the dresser.

" You can't seriously be cancelling my plans just because you're horny are you??", you managed to breathe out as she types with one hand and skillfully undresses you with the other.

" I can and I will," she simply states after sending the message with a ping.

At this point you were oozing of annoyance as you tried covering yourself. There was no way you were gonna let her have you after ruining your planned day out.

"Aww is the princess upset? I'm sorry your highness but nows not the time to be pouty", Se mi mused while trying to get you to look at her. Refusing to look at her.

" Hey I'll make it up to you ok? Just work with me here" Just barely giving in you gave her a 'get on with it' look. Honestly it turned her on seeing you so mad.

Only making her want to ruin you even more.

Slipping past your underwear she teasingly ghosts the hole of your cunt, making you shiver with anticipation. Deep down you want this. You wanted her.

She smirked as she noticed your facial expression contour into pleasure and finally stuck her index finger inside. Deep enough for an audible squelch to echo in your bedroom.

You mewl as she groans at the feeling of your walls squeeze around her, hitting the spongy part just right that makes you go absolutely insane.

"Not so poised now are you?", she snickers while you roll your eyes at her comment. You grab the hem of her shirt and pull her into a seering hot kiss. You couldn't let her have all the fun.

Tugging at the ends you asked for permission to take it off. She tuts and guides your hand towards the nape of your neck.

"Uh I don't think so. A spoilt little brat like you doesn't deserve to be rewarded..", her voice going an octave deeper as she only became more amused at your reaction.

God you hated her.

An hour into the session, she has you in her lap as you lay your head on her shoulder. Already becoming exhausted from the constant thrusting from Se mi's slender fingers.

"Fuck", Se mi hissed as the grip on your hip tightened. Almost certainly leaving a bruise mark on your supple skin.

"Do that for me again love", you didn't have time to react as she pulls out tantalisingly slow and eagerly shoves it back in.

You keen, long and guttural as she continues hitting at your g-spot. Your pelvis unkowngly bucks into her hand, wanting more than you could take.

Se mi nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving a series of dark hickeys all over down your bare chest. Your nipples perked as she has one mound in her mouth and the other between her unoccupied fingers.

After a while she let's go with a pop and grabs your ass making you rise up and slam back down on her fingers. You cried out and instinctively reach up and tangled your fingers in her raven hair

"I" slam "Still hate you", you sneer slightly despite being in a euphoric state.

"Oh, rude aren't we?" She snickered as your breath caught in your throat, you would've retorted had she not stuck another finger in. Twisting and going deeper than before to make you more dumbed out.

A dirty cheater for sure.

"Ugh...!! I-- did you have to ruin my dress too-?", you managed to hiss out while you peered down at the smug women beneath you.

You were an absolute mess, mascara stained tears ran down your cheeks. The curls of your hair unravelled and cascaded down your shoulders and your perfect pink lips, swollen and slightly bleeding.

"Don't worry babe, I'll buy you a new one", she cooes while she moves a stray strand of hair away from your face.

It was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, but another thing to have a partner so smart yet bossy as you, being desperate for her to ruin your cunt.

"Shit babe!! Right there--!"

She had you fucking on her fingers for so long you couldn't even check the time on the clock, your vision blurred from your tears. At last you finally burst, unleashing a wave.

Helping you ride through your orgasm until the only thing heard in the room was lewd , wet noises coming from your sopping cunt.

Se mi, was stuffing your own juices back into you at this point, you couldn't really tell if it was that or her fingers were just too filling.

You both were panting, one more than the other. Se mi lifted you up, carrying you bridal style. She softly placed a kiss on your damp forehead as she makes her way down the corridor, heading for the washroom to give you a nice warm bath.

Your beautiful lace dress, discarded and long forgotten.

" Let's get you cleaned up princess" ♡

#squid game #squid game x reader #se mi x reader #player 380 x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game smut #ang3ltine

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seresinhangmanjake · 15 hours ago

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A Trade

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: When Feyd asked for your hand, your father refused and took you away from him. Now he’ll do anything to get you back, and he’s not above kidnapping your sister to offer a trade.

Notes/Warnings: kidnapping and threats of death. I think that’s it. Feyd’s soft for reader.

Words: 4000

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

He sits quietly, his chair facing another of its matching set, and leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees. His hands clasp, fingers squeezing and releasing and squeezing and releasing in an effort to suppress the rage he hasn’t been able to let go of for weeks.

With eyes scanning over the figure sitting his opposite, Feyd’s teeth grind, wearing down the grit of his molars. It’s hard not to scrutinize. As he takes in every feature of her face, his lips and eyebrows involuntarily quirk in distaste. It’s not that her features aren’t nicely proportionate or well-placed on the structure of her face; they’re just…wrong. Familiar, but incorrect.

“You don’t look like her,” he says.

Her stare is just as intense as the one he knows so well. And though she may not look quite right, the aura she exudes does not stray from what he expects of someone with her blood.

She jerks on the binds that are keeping her wrists locked behind her back and huffs when they don’t give way to her strength. “Well, we aren’t twins,” she states.

There’s a bite there, but no soft edge to cushion the blow. She doesn’t know the proper way to deal with him. She doesn’t know how to ease the tension in his bones with her words. He supposes that is one of many things that makes the difference. It’s why he loves you and would not love a woman like her.

Again she tugs on the ropes confining her.

“Don’t bother,” he says.

She lets out a groan before finally surrendering. “You know, she told me all about you. About what became of the two of you. How it happened,” she says. “And I understand. I do. But do you honestly believe having your men abduct me was the best idea?”

Feyd leans back in his chair. His arms cross over his chest. You are the only one who questions him, the only one allowed to question him, and his jaw ticks as he pulls back on the desire to slide a blade across your sister’s cheek.

“I do,” he says.

Your sister shakes her head. “You know they’re giving her to Kenric. Father is with her on their planet in the process of signing a formal agreement.”

Feyd shoots up, hungry acid eating his insides. He’d heard news of the pending engagement, but he does not care to listen to those words strung together for a second time, especially not in a voice that so closely resembles yours. It makes him want to hurt something, damage something, but when the nearest target flinches at the sharpness of his movement, he pauses. You would want him to pause. He takes a breath and runs his hand down his face before circling to the back of the chair and gripping the edge of the seat. His knuckles whiten.

“She is not marrying Kenric,” Feyd says. “Your House will give her back to me if I offer them you in return.”

She hums, unconvinced, and a crease forms at the center of his brow. He’s far from appreciative of how unsure she seems, considering this plan was the only one well-formed enough for execution. As the second born, she may not be as important as you are, but she’s a daughter of a Great House nonetheless, and no elite would allow the death of one of their own, certainly not their child, without some attempt at preservation first. They'll have to agree to his terms.

But if they don’t…

Feyd stares into the blank space by your sister’s head, his vision hazy, shapes blurring with each image of you that travels around his mind. Things had been so well. Content, yet passionate. Fulfilling. They’d been as close to perfect as Feyd could recognize from others’ descriptions of the feeling.

You were a gift unto him without anyone realizing it. Your parents sent you for education, for experimentation, for practice in learning how to infiltrate other Houses so when the day comes for you to lead beside another, you would have the knowledge and skillset to manipulate any Great line from the inside out.

It wasn’t presented that way to his uncle, of course. You were introduced with the suggestion that the Baron see a curious girl, an innocent flower wanting to expose herself to foreign practices. But the act did not fool Feyd. He instantly saw the spots where the rose’s thorns had been clipped. What stood before him was a weapon briefly tamed for the sake of disguise who would grow back her barbs once planted within his walls. And he found much amusement in your deception.

It took mere weeks for you to fall with Feyd into deep affection. You were always around, always peering where you should not have been peering, listening to what did not belong to your ears, and when he got fed up with your lack of covertness, he confronted you. Confrontation which led to lessons in stealth that tucked the both of you into dark corners hidden from prying eyes. Dark corners that only shadowed your bodies if you were pressed against one another. Bodies that were so close breaths couldn’t help but intertwine. Breaths that brushed heat over faces and ceased only when lips met.

And then with one mistake, one request, you were gone. Kidnapped by your family’s guards. Taken from behind his turned back. Sand through his fingers.

“I believed her when she told me you loved her,” your sister says, snapping Feyd back to attention. Her mouth is parted, and as her eyes scan his face, they’re alight with something akin to wonder but with a few tainting specks of disgust. A reasonable reaction; one he anticipated. Her sister in bed with a Harkonnen—how horrible. “Nevertheless, it's fascinating to witness for myself.”

Feyd’s eyes narrow. His spine straightens. He squares his shoulders. “I asked for her hand first. She should be mine.”

A scoff bursts from your sister’s throat. “That is not what I have heard,” she tells him. “You did not ask; you demanded. And you were both naive,” she says. “She was not sent here to fall in love. Not to mention, your family has a reputation you should not forget.”

“She does not fear me,” he snaps.

“She does not have to.”

“I am a Lord, an heir, as much as any other son of the Great Houses. My title makes me worthy. They had no valid reason to reject me and take her.”

“Do you think there isn’t more to it than any title put upon you?” she asks before she says, “It’s the wars your House involves yourselves in. The greed. The possessiveness. The pale hands in everyone else’s pots. The children you would produce.”

His jaw clenches. “And what would be wrong with our children?”

“What would be right with them? Everyone would fear the deplorable monsters they might grow to be with your blood coursing through their veins.”

Feyd’s heart prickles.

He hadn’t thought much of children; he’d simply thought of you and what it would take to keep you by his side. Anything else he’d deemed the concerns of a much later time, but now, with it forced into his mind, he finds himself unexpectedly devastated. Normally he wouldn’t care about opinions, but to understand what ideas others might conjure up at the possibility of your union sickens him. The children you would create would be nothing less than flawless. Warriors. Survivors. Leaders. A pristine blending of you both. He knows it.

Your sister’s chest caves with a heavy sigh. “Look, I do not say these things to hurt you in retaliation for dragging me here against my will. They are fact.”

In his silence, Feyd can feel her studying him from the inside out, not wasting a single passing second. Her position—the ties around her wrists that keep her bound to the chair—which would cause great concern to others, seems to fade in importance against her consistent, concentrated observing. It does not last long before he grows tired of it.

“What?” he spits.

Pity bleeds into her irises. “She did try to convince them,” she says. “She claimed you’re different than you appear. Not as harsh. Not as impulsive as everyone believes.”

His gaze falls to his feet. “She was lying.”

“Clearly,” your sister agrees. Then her voice tips; softens. “But she was desperate. She would’ve said anything, though it wouldn’t have mattered. They refused to listen.”

Feyd’s eyelids pinch. He can picture you as desperate as he is. Begging. Begging as a Lady such as yourself would beg: with wit and strategy, utilizing every trick in the book short of falling on your knees. You’re like him. He begs as you do, but in his own way, with his own tricks.

“What do you believe will come of this? Really.”

Feyd looks up at her. “I told you, she will be mine again,” he doesn’t hesitate to say. “That is what will come of this.”

“And if it doesn’t?” she asks. “Will you stop?”

“What do you think?”

As if he had cracked open her skull to reveal her brain, Feyd has an unobstructed view of each one of her thoughts nestling deeply into her mind. She said so herself what she and her House—what all Houses—think of him. War, greed, possessiveness. And he is but a fraction of the Harkonnen’s totality of power. What he’s done by taking her brushes the cusp of his capabilities, and his uncle would not restrain him from conquering another planet and snuffing out an elite lineage to obtain what he desires.

As your sister runs through the many repercussions of his plan’s potential failure, he decides he has wasted enough of his time on her. He can no longer stand to look at the face that lacks the features he prefers.

“Where are you going?” she says when he turns on his heel.

“We’re done for now. You’ll be escorted to the guest quarters.”

“Not a cell?”

Feyd halts.

“You’re her sister,” he says over his shoulder. And then he leaves her behind.

—

“They’ll come today.”

Your sister looks up from the plate of food in front of her, her eyes landing on Feyd as he stops just in front of the dining table where she sits.

He’s reminded again how different she is from you. How when you sat in that same seat—a seat he is struggling not to scold your sister for occupying—you were the lone bright object in the room. Nothing about this soul-sucking black hole was capable of dimming you, and yet your contrast fit perfectly. You slotted into his fortress as if you were meant to one day rule over its every occupant, himself included. But Giedi Prime’s design does not blend well with your sister. She’s a royal-purple-velvet, gold-embroidered splotch in a sea of onyx black, and he wants nothing more than to remove her.

Soon. You will be back with him soon. Soon, you will be eating in that seat. You will be wearing his clothes. You will be existing in this space as you should be.

“How do you know?” your sister asks.

Feyd blinks. “It’s been three days. Enough time to have been informed of your absence and return home to confirm it,” he says. “And she’ll know where you are.”

“You’re so sure?”

He gives a single nod. “She knows me,” he replies. “She knows taking you is not out of the realm of what I would do for her.”

---

Reader POV

You know where she is. From the moment your parents were informed of her disappearance and the three of you rushed to your home planet, not a single of your seconds was wasted on juggling alternative possibilities. How it is not blatantly obvious to everyone else is a shock, but perhaps your sister’s missing presence from the palace has turned frantic minds to mush. You’re the only one who isn’t running about, searching through closets and under beds as if a grown woman is playing a child’s game.

You have to tell them. Recovering your sister cannot be a solo mission, despite how much easier that would be. Not to mention, to leave for Giedi Prime without notifying your parents would rightfully increase their panic, and no good would come of that.

So you speak his name.

They call him a demon. A monster. They curse and condemn him. How dare he demand one daughter and, after being denied, so quickly move on to stealing another. The implication that he’s taken your sister to replace you makes you ill, but to defend the love you share with him would further stir their tempers.

“You’re certain?” Your mother asks through the trembling hand covering her horrified mouth.

You meet your father’s blazing stare and try to ignore the hateful bile gathering at the corners of his lips. You nod. “I should go alone,” you tell them.

“Absolutely not.”

“He’ll listen to me. He will not be cooperative with you.”

“That creature will listen to no one!”

“I know him. His thoughts, his tactics,” you argue. “I’m the one person who can get through to him.”

To his credit, your father takes a calming breath. It can not be denied that his emotions often guide him over logic, but he’s not a man known for idiocy. He sent you to the Harkonnens, and he’s not forgotten how well you’ve been trained to learn from your environment.

“Fine,” he eventually agrees. But he does not accommodate you beyond that.

All efforts to ease his disgust for your lover fall on deaf ears. He won’t hear that Feyd hasn’t hurt your sister. He won’t believe that he hasn’t peeled her skin from her bones or starved her out of her perfectly tailored dresses. And though his eyes threaten you to surrender your conviction, to confirm his ideas and stoke the flame of his fury, you don’t give in.

Arriving at the doors of Giedi Prime’s fortress is done without guards flanking your sides. They stay on the ship. “He doesn't respond to intimidation strategies,” you tell your father. “It’s best not to storm his home with forces in tow and demand things of him.” Not lies, but you can’t say you’re honest for the sake of striking a deal without inflicting wounds on each other’s guards. True that it’s best to avoid an all-out battle, but it’s more true that your motivations are guided by seeing him again.

When you do finally see him, you see no one else. The world falls apart and you cannot tear your eyes from his face. Neither can he keep his off of you. You’re yards apart, a rooms-span away, and yet you can already feel him from the anticipation of being in his arms. You’ve been living off of the memories of his touch, and now here he is, almost within reach.

Your father is shouting, but your heartbeat thumping in your ears shields you from the full power of his voice. “You dare steal my daughter!” you think he says. “Where is she!”

Feyd ignores him. He stares still. His mouth parts. And then, with determination in his steps, he walks to you.

Before you can bask in the warmth of his looming closeness, his arm is reaching toward you, and in what seems like the blink of an eye, his palm slides across your cheek, his fingers weave with the strands of your hair, and he pulls you into a kiss.

Instantly, the long-awaited sensation threatens to kick your legs out from under you. Your bones warn of their weakening strength. Your heart briefly stops, but then beats return with a ferocity that could shame a beast in battle.

The *shing* of your father’s metal blade unsheathing is met with its sister sound from the multiple swords of Feyd’s guards. It buys you a few more seconds of holding each other, and you use those seconds to give all that you can.

Feyd knows how to kiss you. You know how to kiss each other. Though relatively tame in front of your current audience, he kisses with the promise of what his mouth would do to yours were you alone; echoes of what you shared before you were taken.

When you sense your time is about to run out, you plant your hands on Feyd’s chest, and as he cups your cheeks, you break the kiss. Your eyes find home in his.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

He grins ever so slightly. “They can have her,” he says. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones and he rests his forehead against yours. “But I’m keeping you.”

I’m yours is on your lips, but his body is partially jerked out of your arms before you can speak. All gentleness in your lover switches off like a light.

“Get off of my daugh–”

Your father chokes, his nails clawing at the hand around his neck.

“You don’t tell me not to touch her!” Feyd shouts with a squeeze, slowly pulling your father closer. Being inches shorter, your father must stand on his toes to keep Feyd’s grip as loose as possible, and as much as you find yourself enjoying the sight, you cannot allow it to continue.

“Feyd,” you start. As you caress his flexed bicep, you keep your tone velvety. “Feyd, let him go.” But he does not hear you. Or he does not listen. His fingers tighten. Your father’s face swells red. “Listen to me. I love you. No one is going to take me away from you. I won’t let that happen. You won’t let that happen. We will be married. We will be here, together, just you and me as we planned,” you tell him, “but I want you to let him go.”

A beat passes. Two beats. Three. Then Feyd expels the breath he’d been holding. His chest deflates, and one by one, his fingers unpeel from your father’s skin.

Your father heaves. “Y-You…” he says through his attempts to recover. His hand rubs his rapidly bruising flesh. “You are promised…to Kenric. The agreement was all but–” he coughs “–but signed.”

A growl emerges, and from your left, Feyd lunges. Your father gasps. His eyes widen as he stumbles a step backward.

“No!” You rush in front of Feyd to grab his face. Shaking your head, your thumbs stroke his cheeks. “No,” you repeat softly.

The heat in his irises soothes as he keeps his eyes on you. His arm curls around your waist, and his gaze drops to your mouth. You want to kiss him again. You almost do, but then you remember why you’re here.

You look to the nearest Harkonnen guard, one of many you’re familiar with after your time on Giedi Prime. “Bring my sister. Please.”

He glances at his Lord, who nods in response to the silent question. Then Feyd’s attention returns to you, his eyes go to your lips, and he leans in.

You struggle to care about anything other than his taste. After you were taken, you were lost to the devastation of believing your mouth and tongue and teeth would never have him again. And you’re lost now. Lost in the pleasure of those fears extinguishing. So lost that not even the echo of approaching footsteps is enough to cleave your bodies apart.

“A relief to see that clothes are still on,” your sister’s voice greets. Reluctantly, you unseal your mouth from Feyd’s to look past his shoulder at your sister. There’s an unreadable expression on her face as she watches him bury his face in your neck. Acceptance, or revulsion.

Thankfully, your father seems to have missed her comment, so focused on seeing her well and unharmed. He takes an unsteady step in her direction. “Daughter–”

The Harkonnen releases your sister from his hold and she meets your father the rest of the way. “I’m fine, father.”

“That monster–”

“Didn’t do a thing.” Her eyes flick to the hand covering his throat. One brow arches as her head turns your way. “To me.”

Your father draws her into a hug, his hand going to the back of her head. “Good. Good,” he says. “Then let us take you both home.”

A chill runs throughout your limbs. Feyd’s arms cinch around your waist. He lifts his head, his vision glazed over as his eyes prod yours. “You’re not leaving,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “I’m not leaving.”

“You are leaving,” your father intrudes, his voice dropping an octave. “You are leaving this place. You are leaving that beast.”

Your sister sighs. “Father…”

“You are returning home, and you will marry Kenric.”

A muffled noise rumbles in Feyd’s throat. Like thunder on the horizon. A threat of a storm. You press your palm against his heart to feel the beats harder, faster.

“We departed before anything was signed,” you say.

Your father stomps his foot like a petulant child. “You made a commitment!”

Your head jerks back, and suddenly, red infects your sight. Intent on approaching your father, you untangle yourself from Feyd’s arms, but fingers latch onto your wrist, keeping you from gaining significant distance. You let him hold you back.

“You made a commitment!” you snap.

“And I will keep it!”

Nails dig into your pulse point, and you know Feyd is straining against his urges as much as you are. “No,” you push. “You will walk free with one of your daughters, and the other will remain where she belongs!”

“You do not belong here!”

“Yes, I–”

“Father,” your sister repeats.

He whips around. “What!”

“Let them be,” she says.

Silence falls over the room. Feyd’s grip eases but does not disappear.

“He is selfish and stubborn and feels no guilt in how he loves her,” she continues. “I can’t say I’m interested in seeing what else he’d be willing to do to get her back should she be ripped away from him again, but I have no doubt it would be devastating. And I’m sure you would not survive twice.”

Your father’s brows dip in the center. His fist clenches. “Do not disrespect me.”

“It's not disrespect,” she says. “I would fear for you, for our people, our home. Leave her, and I will marry Kenric.”

You suck in a sharp breath.

“I have no attachments to any man. It causes me no harm to step into my sister’s place.”

“No.” Your father shakes his head. “I won’t allow it.”

“You will if you’re smart,” she replies. Tension radiates from your father, his body practically shaking where he stands. “And surely you aim to be a smart man. Surely you don’t intend to take unnecessary risks that could hurt everything our House is meant to protect.”

He opens his mouth, but the threat of humiliation is enough to shut him up. It has always been an area where he falters. Inadequacy and the fear of being looked down upon. It’s why you were marrying the son of Lord Kenric. Your House is not a weak one by many standards, but your father could not let go of the whispers among other Houses that they are stronger. He sought a match effective in showing your equals the value of his House and offspring. And blinded by his decision, there was no room for him to consider the consequences.

You watch in awe as he stands down, shrinking in the shadow of your sister’s wisdom. A smart man indeed.

When your sister nears you, she reaches out to take your hand in hers. Feyd releases you as, for the moment, his nemesis has been subdued.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell her. “I’m prepared to fight him tooth and nail.”

She lightly chuckles. “Your brute would burn down the world. This is what’s best. Safest.”

“You’re sure?”

“I'd decided on this path before you arrived,” she says.

You look for hesitation, any regret, but she’s a stone wall—sturdy in her decision—and you recognize that arguing would implant a tone of dismissiveness of her wishes.

“Thank you,” you mouth.

Your sister squeezes your fingers. She tips her head to you before she glances at Feyd. You peek over your shoulder, but his face is blank. Whatever passes between them is indecipherable—some unspoken understanding.

“Keep him in line,” she says. Then she steps away from you.

Your father glares the entire way out of the fortress, and you know you’ve severed your ties today. You’ve made a choice, picked a side, and neither he nor your mother will ever understand. Whether or not they’ve become an enemy you will learn in time, but at the very least, it is unlikely you will be welcomed into the home where you grew up. A sacrifice you accept.

As the doors close, Feyd comes up behind you. His arms circle your waist. Your back meets his chest. His lips plant on your neck. “Come to bed,” he says.

You grin.

---

A/N: thanks for reading! If you liked it, let me know :)

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #austin butler #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen

187 notes · View notes

deatheaterv · 2 days ago

Text

ENDEARING

pairing : james potter x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : james potter teases you ALOT

it started small. james potter, hogwarts’ golden boy, had taken a liking to you, and the entire school seemed to know it. at first, it was easy to ignore—the odd smirk across the great hall, a wave during transfiguration, and the occasional “you’re looking radiant today, y/n!” whenever he passed you in the corridors.

but then he ramped it up.

one morning, you were walking to charms when you heard it.

“oi, y/n! i’ve decided i’m gonna marry you!”

you froze mid-step, the bustling corridor falling silent as every single person turned to look at you. your eyes widened in horror, and you whipped around to see james standing at the other end, his hands cupped around his mouth as he grinned like a lunatic.

“what do you say? sound like a good plan?” he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

“i say you’re insufferable, potter!” you shouted back, your face burning.

he clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger backward. “ah, rejection. but don’t worry, love, i’ll win you over eventually!”

you stormed off, ignoring the muffled laughter and whispers from the other students.

it didn’t stop there.

a week later, you were in herbology, carefully trimming a particularly aggressive fanged geranium when james sauntered up to your station.

“looking good, y/n,” he said, leaning against the table with a cocky grin. “but you’d look even better if you let me take you out.”

you didn’t even look up. “potter, if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll feed you to this plant.”

“you’re feisty. i like that,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows.

“and you’re annoying,” you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he clutched his heart as if you’d stabbed him. “you wound me again, darling. one of these days, you’ll see how charming i am.”

“don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, focusing back on the plant.

the next day, he upped the ante.

you were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when james appeared, plopping down in the seat across from you.

“potter,” you groaned, not even looking up.

“just thought i’d keep you company,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at you.

“don’t you have quidditch practice or something?”

“i canceled it. you’re more important.”

you rolled your eyes. “please stay away.”

“sure, but a kiss first?”

“you’re unbelievably irritating,” you finally looking up to glare him.

he just laughed, completely unfazed. “come on, y/n, admit it. you’d regret it if you don’t want to.”

“not likely,” you muttered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

the teasing didn’t stop, but over time, you found yourself less annoyed by it. there was something about james’ relentless determination that was almost endearing.

one afternoon, you were sitting by the lake, enjoying the quiet, when james appeared out of nowhere, flopping down beside you.

“don’t you ever get tired of bothering me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“never,” he said, grinning. “so, what do you say? want to grab dinner with me tonight?”

“is this your way of asking me out?” you asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“obviously. i’m very subtle,” he said, smirking.

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous, potter.”

“ridiculously in love with you,” he shot back, his grin widening.

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words.

then there was the moment that truly caught you off guard.

it was a late afternoon in the courtyard, and you were sitting with lily evans, enjoying the crisp autumn air. james, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, his hair even messier than usual.

“y/n,” he said loudly, dropping to one knee in front of you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“making a declaration,” he said, pulling a small flower out of his pocket. it was slightly squished, but the gesture was oddly sweet.

“oh, merlin,” lily muttered.

“y/n, will you do me the honor of..”

“potter, i swear to god—“

“-letting me carry your books for the rest of the week?” he finished, grinning as he held out the flower.

you couldn’t help it, you laughed. james potter, for all his arrogance and teasing, was nothing if not persistent.

“fine,” you said, taking the flower. “but just for this week.”

“that’s all i need,” he said, standing up and flashing you a triumphant grin.

as much as you hated to admit it, james potter was growing on you. and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind being the center of his attention.

231 notes · View notes

no-144444 · 5 hours ago

Note

HI!!!! I am such a huge fan of your work, could i request something with charles where the reader is max verstappens sister but she's a pop star (think sabrina carpenter) and charles and her are dating on the dl but he goes to her concert and gets spotted and then everyone goes crazy with fan theories and they hard launch with the music video, and max is pissed because a, she's off limits to drivers. and b, why didn't they tell him.

anyways, that was just my thoughts, thank you girl!

don't dim your light- c.l

summary: you have a secret boyfriend and an album coming and you realise that hiding yourself and your life only makes you feel like shit.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! verstappen! popstar! reader

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Being the sister of Max Verstappen meant two things:

1: You were famous.

2: You were off-limits to every single other driver.

Too bad that you’d fallen for your brother’s rival (/husband???). Charles was perfect, everything you’d ever wanted in a man. He was kind, caring, thoughtful, and most of all… fucking gorgeous. It had been months of sneaking around because, while Charles didn’t feel scared at all to drive a car around at top speed, actually risking his life, he was scared of your brother. Like, scared to death.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Bebé,” he whined, holding you against him. “My love! Do not leave me here!”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling, as you pushed his hands off of you. “I have to catch my flight!”

“But if we don’t spend Christmas together I won’t see you until the summer!” he groaned.

“The joys of dating a popstar, I guess,” you shrugged, grabbing your suitcase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I’ll see you in Monaco, alright?”

He frowned then pressed his lips to yours as hard as he possibly could. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you big sap,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“You are so mean to me, you know that?” he huffed.

“Bye Charles!” you called after yourself, leaving his Monaco apartment.

It had been 7 whole months of bliss with Charles. Obviously, you’d met him prior to the first date, knowing him quite well from all the stories Max had told you, but shockingly, it took a Puma brand ambassadors dinner for him to make the first move. He was evidently very nervous, but you’d started to love his weird dorky qualities. He was sweet, and kind, and that’s all you really cared about.

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“London, can we make some noise?!” you cheered. The stadium roared back to you. You had done it. You’d sold out the O2 for 4 whole nights. You were one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. “Are you guys ready for one last song tonight?” they screamed back at you. “Alright, this one is new, I hope you like it!”

The intro to Bed Chem started, and you knew everyone already knew it (it had been leaked a few months ago), but you danced and sang it exactly how it was meant to sound. One thing you loved about being on stage is how free you felt. All of those people were there to see you, which melted your heart. You loved every single fan you’d ever come across and appreciated every single one of them. They made you, they made your success.

As the song finished, ‘new album out next week! xxx’ flashed behind you on the screen, and the crowd went wild.

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You walked into your dressing room, exhausted from the night, and slightly hurt that despite offering to fly them out, none of your family came. You understood, Max’s career was important, and it was his last chance before the regulations changed to get the most out of the car. He wanted his fifth so badly, mostly because he wasn’t sure he was going to stay around from 2026 onwards. He had a family now. He had a baby and P to take care of. He didn’t like the media circus that F1 had turned into, or the fact that it was a popularity contest. Your entire family had been built around Max, and you knew why, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when you were reminded of the fact that you were just the second kid.

“My love!” Charles cheered, wrapping you up in his arms, startling you. “You were incredible! You were amazing!” he pressed kiss after kiss to your neck and cheek as you hugged him back, ecstatic that he was here.

He had taken the time out of his insanely busy schedule, on a race week, to come see you on the literal other side of the world. He truly was the best boyfriend in the world.

“What are you doing here?” you chuckled, shocked by his presence. “You should be getting ready for Japan!”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine in Japan, I wasn’t going to miss you performing!”

You pulled him closer once again, pressing your lips against his. “I fucking love you,” you whispered, trying to make your voice sound steady.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pulling back. The way he looked at you. All the love in the world. Like you hung the fucking stars just for him. He adored you, and you felt it. You felt bathed in his light the second he walked near you, that’s how much he loved you. “Don’t cry,” he frowned, wiping the tears you hadn’t even noticed were falling, away. “I hope they’re happy tears,” he teased.

You nodded, burying your head in his chest. “They are. They really are.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. “I’m glad.”

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y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 8,983,837 others

y/nverstappen SHORT N SWEET OUT ON THE 6TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!!!! ROYAL COURT (with lady broski) OUT ON THE 8TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!

comments

user8: prepare to be SICK of me

brittanybroski: ROYAL COURT MENTIONED 💯💯💯💯💯💯 -> liked by y/nverstappen

user999: SHE'S GLOWING

user7: not the grinch picture 💀

maxverstappen: Congratulations Y/n! -> liked by y/nverstappen

user66: DID ANYONE ELSE SEE WHO WAS AT HER SHOW????? -> user92: LITERALLY! -> user933: charles what is you doing here loca?

calebhearon: SHE'S STUNNING -> liked by y/nverstappen

oliviarodrigo: and she's serving. as per usual. liked by y/nverstappen -> user88: LOCA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE -> user22: THE GIRLS ARE HEALING.

user09: now i need to know who bed chem is about... -> user44: thick accent... (charles leclerc) -> user94: officer it's this one! -> user88: on MY cellular device? -> user21: me when i'm delusional.

user802: BED CHEM ATE SO FUCKING HARD OMFG

user213: where is her family? she sold out the O2 for 4 consecutive nights AND is releasing her second album, and they're nowhere to be seen? jos 'i support my daughter' verstappen my ASS. -> user2342: right? It's so unfair, her entire life has been built around max and he couldn't even go see her on the biggest night of her life while pierre gasly and charles leclerc can? It's bullshit.

user90: she's so hot i cannot do this anymore.

user87: charles lurking in the likes...? -> user36: tbf a lot of the drivers follow her, it could be a coincidence.

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f1gossip

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, and 890,848 others

f1gossip Drivers Charles LeClerc and Pierre Gasly were seen at a Y/n Verstappen concert in London this week! They seemed to be enjoying themselves, though there was no sign of Max anywhere!

comments

user88: pierre and lando are messy

user99: WHERE WAS MAX? THIS WAS Y/N'S BIG MOMENT???

user929023: OMFG BED CHEM IS ABOUT CHARLES WTF -> user97437: no it's not she can't steal my husband -> user4: she can, and she did

user772: he looks so drunk in the last photo lmao

user942: WHAT A SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND!

user847: Pierre's sunglasses are taking me out rn 💀 -> pierregasly: what's wrong with them? -> user88: ARE CHARLES AND Y/N TOGETHER??? -> pierregasly: 🤷🤷🤷

user92: they'd be so cute together!!!!

user902: omfg max would KILL him if they're together

user935841: do we all remember the interview where max said he'd fucking shove any of the drivers off the track if they went for his sister? like does charles have a death with? is he not despressed enough?

user91234: charles when i catch you

user7: if he stole my wife, i'm going to be pissed (i've never met her and she doesn't know i exist)

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"People saw you today," you yawned, laying in bed with Charles. The concert was over, and Charles had surprised you with his presence, though it was more than welcome. You were both lying in the luxurious hotel bed as you settled down for sleep, his arms wrapping around you.

He nodded. "I know. I just thought people would assume we're friends though."

You rolled your eyes. Bullshit. “You’re such a bad liar,” you chuckled as his jaw dropped at the accusation.

“I am not lying!” he stressed, but his smirk gave him away.

“Charles LeClerc, you wanted people to find out, didn’t you?” you gasped, hitting him with a pillow.

“I did not!” he hit you back.

What ensued after was a pillow fight that ended with you holding him down against the bed, and his lips on yours. The amount of alcohol you'd both consumed meant that the kiss was messy, but amazing all the same. It was all teeth and tongue, all passion, all Charles.

“You were so pretty up there,” he whispered against your mouth, completely at your mercy. “Felt like you were singing just to me.”

You chuckled, pulling back. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, biting his lip. “So perfect,” he sighed.

“I still think you wanted people to find out,” you argued, getting off of him.

“Well of course, but that’s-”

“Charles!” you squealed.

"My love!" he chuckled, holding you closer. "How in the world, do you expect me to try and hide the fact that I love you-?"

He was interrupted by your phone ringing. You groaned, he groaned, yet you got up and sat up, grabbing it, answering without looking at the caller id.

"Are you dating Charles?" Max's voice sobered you up pretty quickly. You stuttered for a moment, then laughed.

"W-what?" you questioned. "No."

He huffed from the other side of the phone. "Are you sure? What was he doing at your show?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know, maybe he actually enjoys my music and wanted to come see me? Is that so outlandish?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying."

"Yeah, you're not even interested in my life enough to ask. The shows were great, thanks for asking dickhead," you scoffed before ending the call and blocking his number. He was so... self-involved. He'd stopped caring about you and your interests when you were only kids, too focused on the plan to notice that fact that you were there, and that you adored your big brother. Nevertheless, he didn't care, so you had to stop caring too.

"Are you alright?" Charles whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

You nodded, too fragile to answer. You knew you'd break down crying if you answered verbally, so that would have to do.

"I'm sorry," he pressed gentle but grounding kisses to your neck and back as you gave yourself a moment to soak it all in. "I know how hard this is on you. I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologise for loving me," you whispered, your voice breaking.

He chuckled. "I'll never apologise for that," he smiled against your skin. "I'm just sorry that your family are... difficult."

You nodded, leaning into him. "They are."

"You were radiant up on that stage tonight," he beamed. "Don't let them dim your light, please baby."

You nodded. "You're right. No more dimming lights."

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

The song was simple and from your next album, it could be your second single of the album, and you knew it was catchy and good. It was a good plan, a great plan, even. You and Charles would hard launch your relationship to the world with a music video appearance. Not only would it show the world your relationship, it would also be a great way to generate buzz for your upcoming album. Win-win. The idea was sexy and cool, and shooting it was as much fun as you'd imagined (aka, a lot of kisses, a lot of him touching you, and a lot of retakes), and by the end of the shoot you were convinced it was your best video yet.

You weren't going to tell Max before the video came out. You weren't interested in getting two different lectures, so you decided you'd prefer one long one. Charles supported your decision, and didn't tell anyone shit until the night the video came out.

By then, it was fair game.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

charlesleclerc & y/nverstappen

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, oscarpiastri and 6,893,234 others

charlesleclerc isn't she lovely? please, please, please mv out now.

comments

user92: YOU'RE JOKING

user23: WHAT A PERFECT COUPLE

user9535: stood up and applauded.

user76: this is my niche and i'm so here for it.

brittanybroski: MY WOMAN, NOOOOOOOOO

user024: she's perfect. she is so perfect.

user924084208: can i be her when I grow up? (i'm 34)

user3: she's kind of a slut... -> user9: please please please for the love of god shut the fuck up

user45: idk who I want to be more -> user83: charles. -> user82: charles. -> user08424: charles. -> user36824: charles. -> user24: charles. -> user1: charles. -> user56: charles. -> user75: charles.

pierregasly: KNEW IT FROM THE START ->charlesleclerc: is that because we told you or...? -> pierregasly: trying to steal my thunder rn is CRAZY -> charlesleclerc: trying to make this about yourself rn is CRAZY -> y/nverstappen: BOTH of you are acting like idiots, please refrain

y/nverstappen: ilysm -> charlesleclerc: i adore you -> user923: sleeping on the highway tonight!

lewishamilton: :) -> charlesleclerc: thanks bud :)

user834: what does he see in her?

user2: what does she see in him?

user5: is she aware of his cheating scandals in the past? -> user34: it's almost like people can grow and change! hope this helps xxx

user645: she is about to get her heart broken

user2321: she couldn't have picked someone more... suited to her? -> user8: mate she's a popstar and the sister of Max Verstappen, what about Charles LeClerc isn't 'suited' to her?

francocolapinto: 😍😍😍 -> user830: what is blud doing?

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y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, pierregasly, and 4,873,933 others

y/nverstappen just 2 days until the album, here's so photos of yours truly to hold you over 💋

comments

user935: anyone notice how max has been MIA and angry since her London shows?? -> user5684: i'm employed what does this mean? -> user33: stop trying to stir shit up bro

charlesleclerc: beautiful girl liked by y/nverstappen

user88: max looked like he was ready to kill charles today lmao

user93940924: she's glowing

user6: not mentioning charles i see... -> user9: girl fuck off -> user4: they've been publicly dating for 2 days, calm down.

user09: sigh... i could treat you better y/n... -> charlesleclerc: no you could not. -> pierregasly: let's reel it in buddy ffs -> charlesleclerc: what??? is defending my honour cringe now? -> pierregasly: not just now, it always was.

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When the album launched, you were nestled in your apartment, alone. You were so excited for a night nice in, but of course, your plans were foiled by a knock on the door, and an outpour of dutch from your brother's lips.

"Fuck off Max," you shouted from your side of the door. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm missing a race for this," he sighed, his voice softer than you'd heard it.

You opened the door, and he did something unexpected. He hugged you. A full-blown tight hug, the kind he hadn't given you since you were a kid.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged, pulling out of the hug. "I wasn't interested in the lecture."

"But I know Charles, I could've... I don't know, helped?" he paced around your kitchen. "I just... I don't understand why you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"Max, you said you'd shove anyone off track if they went for me, so I don't understand your disconnect. I'm happy with Charles, like really fucking happy. He makes me feel great, and he cares about me. He loves me. And I'm so sick of trying to make myself smaller so that i can fit into your life. I adore you Max, genuinely, I do. You're my big brother and I love you, and you should be celebrated for your incredible accomplishments, but so should I. I'm not going to sit here and make myself any more unhappy just because it'll make your life easier. I-I won't do it. I want to be able to post my boyfriend, go support him at races, and everything else all the other girlfriends can do. I'm not going to hide him or myself to make you more comfortable," you pushed through the tears building behind your eyes, and stared him right in the eyes. He needed to hear that your life wasn't just about him.

He was quiet for a moment. "I'm happy for you, and I'm sorry that I'm not very good at... being there for you."

He looked uncomfortable. He'd never been very good with his emotions, so that was probably the best you were going to get.

"Thank you," you smiled. "And you really didn't have to miss a race for me, but thank you anyways."

He nodded. "I care about you. I want you to be happy," he explained, looking down.

You were both silent for a few seconds.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you offered.

He looked up and smiled. Same old Max. Same old you.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

y/nverstappen

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 6,243, 563 others

y/nverstappen: and she's out! thank you all so much for the love, mwah!

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen: Very proud!

charlesleclerc: i love you so much you're so pretty (please please please let me come over tonight)

landonorris: SHARPEST TOOL IS SUCH A BANGER liked by y/nverstappen

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navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

178 notes · View notes

thanoskin · 12 hours ago

Text

you belong to me

Pairing: Frontman x Reader

Summary: you’re the daughter of a volatile VIP, you draw the frontman’s attention during your visit to the games.

Warning: Smut (+18), Rough sex, Degradation kink, Age gap, Fingering, Dom! Frontman, Sub! Reader, vaginal fluids, overstimulation, Pussy slapping, Unprotected sex, no aftercare.

Word count: 1519 words.

The air was heavy with the scent of luxury-imported cigars, fine leather, and expensive cologne. You sat on a lavish velvet couch in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of champagne that had gone warm in your hand. Around you, the other VIPs laughed and cheered as they watched the carnage unfold on the massive screen before them.

Your father, one of the most notorious and impulsive of the VIPs, sat at the head of the room, reveling in the chaos below. His booming laughter grated against your nerves, but you kept your expression neutral. You'd learned long ago how dangerous it was to show any weakness around him.

Still, the games didn't hold your interest. Not like they did for him. Your attention drifted instead to the enigmatic figure known as the Front Man, the creator of the games.

He was always there, silent, observing, his black mask concealing his face but not the sharp intelligence in his movements. You'd caught him watching you more than once, and though he never said a word, you felt the weight of his gaze.

Tonight was no different.

You glanced up, and there he was, standing at the edge of the room, his posture rigid, his presence commanding. Even surrounded by the chaos of the VIPs, he seemed untouchable, untamed.

Hours later, it was finally lights out.The VIPs eventually retreated to their private quarters, leaving you alone in the grand lounge, your father was too drunk to notice you were still around. The silence was a relief after the overwhelming noise, but it didn't last long.

"You shouldn't be here alone."

"I'm not afraid of being alone," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

He stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the marble floor. "You should be."

You raised an eyebrow, meeting the dark void of his mask. "Is that a warning?"

"It's a fact," he said, stopping just a few feet away.

"Your father isn't the only dangerous man here."

You set your glass down, leaning back against the couch. "I think I'll take my chances."

The Front Man tilted his head, studying you. "You're not like the others," he murmured.

"No," you said, your lips curving into a faint smile. "I'm not."

He didn't respond, but the weight of his gaze was palpable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence crackling.

"What do you want from me?" you asked finally, breaking the stillness.

The Front Man stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "What makes you think I want something?"

You stood, closing the distance between you.

"Because men like you don't get involved unless there's something in it for them."

He chuckled softly, the sound distorted through his mask. "Maybe you're right."

His hand came up, the black leather of his glove brushing against your cheek.

The touch was surprisingly gentle, and it made your inner thighs warm.

"Careful.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his other hand slid to your waist, drawing you closer. His mask pressed against your forehead, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you both.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

You didn't. Instead, your fingers moved to the edge of his mask, your breath hitching as he allowed you to lift it just enough to see his lips.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, but it quickly deepened. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved against yours. The weight of his mask and the secrecy of the moment only heightened the intensity.

He pulled back, his breathing uneven, his voice rough. "My quarters. Now."

The room was stark, utilitarian, a sharp contrast to the opulence of the VIP lounge. But it didn't matter. The moment the door closed behind you, he was on you, his mask discarded, his lips capturing yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

You clung to him as he backed you against the wall, his hands exploring, his touch possessive yet careful, as if he were afraid you might vanish.

"You don't belong here," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw.

"Neither do you," you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as he chuckled at your innocence.

His lips trailed down your neck as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress, and he gripped your ass, hard, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Suddenly, he lifted you by your hips and tossed you on the bed, not giving you a chance to breathe as he crawled on top of you like a predator hunting its prey. You were face to face with him now.

He slowly pulled off his mask to reveal an older, handsome man with dark and determined eyes. You kissed him deeply, almost savagely, he let you for a couple of minutes before placing his hand on your throat, pinning you beneath him.

You whined softly, your breaths ragged as you adapted to his strong grip. He let you go, his hands now roaming over the thin fabric of your dress, and tracing over your hard nipples.

“You’re not wearing a bra…” he whispered teasingly, and you blushed as he removed your dress.

He stared at your naked body, ignoring your horny whimpers as he ran his hand through your wet folds. You moaned softly as his thumb grazed over your clit. He smirked teasingly and began to use slight pressure as he moved his thumb in a circular motion on your sensitive ball of nerves.

You moan and writhe, attempting to close your legs from the pressure. Suddenly, you feel two cold fingers enter your aching hole, and you gasp in surprise.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He asks, his gaze curious and intense, causing you to look away.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

You feel his fingers curl against that spongy spot, and you cry out.

“Yes! Please don’t stop..” you begin to squirm, moaning uncontrollably as he continues to curl and thrust his fingers into your virgin hole.

You dig your nails into his back and start to get louder and louder, your moans desperate, and your pussy soaking wet.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out and begins to remove his belt, staring at your sprawled and exposed form.

“I need your cock please.” You murmur, and he doesn’t reply, he tosses his belt on the far end of the room and removes his pants and underwear, crawling towards you again. His cock wasn’t too big, but wasn’t too small either.

You found yourself terrified, but your arousal only grew as you stared at his hard, throbbing cock.

He roughly grabs your thighs, spreading them wide, digging his nails into your sensitive skin, causing you to whine.

You closed your eyes and he immediately pinched your inner thigh.

“Open.”

Your eyes flew open at his command, and you whine as you feel his tip against your throbbing clit.

“Look at me while I take you.”

you obeyed, he began to enter you, and you hissed and cried out from the pain. He didn’t respond, but you were grateful for his patience, and his gentle touches as he stroked your legs while he broke you in.

Suddenly, he hit a spot, causing you to moan loudly. He began to thrust quickly, causing you to moan uncontrollably.

“oh fuck!” You cried and used your free hands to try and push his shoulders, desperatey feeling the need to cum already.

he growled and pinned your hands above your head, his strong hands nearly breaking your wrists as you moaned loudly and sobbed.

“Look at me!” He shouted, he was panting, his eyes locked into yours as he fucked you mercilessly.

“I’m gonna cum!” you cried out, trying to close your legs.

“Don’t you fucking….”

you squirted all over his cock, and he stopped moving inside of you. He sighed and pulled out, and you’re rewarded with a harsh slap to your clit.

“You cum when I tell you to, not a moment before that. Understood?”

You cry and before you can respond, he enters you again, pinching your sensitive nipples and tugging the skin as he fucked you hard, and fast.

“Fuck…” he whispered, before pulling out and panting.

He yanks your legs apart again, only to rub your throbbing clit, with force and speed.

You’re overstimulated, and on the brink of cumming.

“Please, let me…” you cried and moaned.

“Come on, squirt all over my fucking hand.”

You squirted hard and he groaned in delight as you coat his fingers in your juices.

“Such a good little…”

He groaned again, kissing your thighs. You’re exhausted and sore, you lay limp and spent, your eyelids suddenly heavy, and before you knew it, you hear the rustling of his clothing being put back on, and the door closed behind him.

#squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game season 2 #squid game smut #squid game x reader #smut #female reader #x reader #front man #frontman x reader #hwang inho #in ho x reader #player 001

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iamstillovingyou · 2 days ago

Text

Under the cherry blossom

Kang Dae-ho x reader fluff, comfort Summary: Realizing how important Dae-ho has been to you throughout the games and providing comfort to each other Warnings: PTSD, panic attack, anxiety etc. spoilers for squid game s2

hey guys, this is my first ever try at writing something on here, so please be kind! I can't stop thinking about Dae-ho from Squid Game and my daydreams gave me this idea, so I thought it might be good to write about it. I incorporated some of the events from s2 as well as the ending, inserting reader as part of the group with Dae-ho. I used 'you' throughout the whole fic. Hope you enjoy it! Word count: 1k As the lights went out and everyone retired to their beds with just a few voices chattering away or snoring around the hall, your anxiety started spiking up. You had tried to keep your cool during the games, but one harrowing experience after another left you disturbed. Thinking about the most recent game 'Mingle' left your mind in a whirl. You were wondering how you managed to survive every single round of it. The fact that you were a part of a group of people who became your friends and protectors definitely helped you stay alive so long. But, one particular person you kept thinking of was Dae-ho, who kept close to you throughout the whole game. As soon as they'd announce the number, Dae-ho would grab your hand and run for your lives, hoping to secure the number of people and a room. In the last round, as you were considering the possibility of the number two being announced, you felt a tight grip on arm and turned back to look Dae-ho in the eyes. He gave you a nod of reassurance. You held on to him for dear life. Now that you were alive for the ordeal of the next game, your mind focused on Dae-ho. Ever since you joined their group, he was always looking out for you, making sure you're okay and making little jokes to ensure you keep your mind off the horrifying reality that any of you might not be there the next day. You had got used to him and found his presence soothing and his concern for you during the last game intrigued you.

You started worrying about the next game and felt an oncoming panic attack. You had to talk to someone. You turned your head to the right, to the bed where Dae-ho was sleeping. Hesitatingly, you whispered into the darkness: 'Dae-ho', not hoping for answer. After just a second you heard a quiet 'Yes?' 'Dae-ho, are you sleeping?' Then followed silence. You had almost started regretting calling out his name, especially as you didn't like asking for help. But your thoughts were interrupted by Dae-ho shuffling from his bed and kneeling next to yours. 'Are you okay? Is something wrong?' You tried to make out his face in the faint light, his eyes only two dots shining. 'Dae-ho, I'm scared' you blurted out. You had been scared since the beginning, but managed to keep fear at bay. Now it overwhelmed you completely. Dae-ho kept his voice low 'I know. This place is a nightmare, but we are strong, right?, he said as he took your hand in his, 'We've made it so far, we just have to stick together, okay?'. As he said this he sat down on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his. You sat up, feeling the warmth of his hand. You nodded, but tears started swelling in your eyes. 'Dae-ho, what if we do not make it out of here?' you asked as a hot tear rolled down your cheek, you trying to hold in the sobs bubbling in your throat. 'Remember the bridge you were telling me about? With the cherry blossoms and the pond? How magical it is in the springtime?' You nodded. 'Well, picture it. Imagine us there, walking over it on a sunny day, the breeze blowing the petals softly around us. We're safe and happy. You'll take me there when we get out of here, right?', he flashed his charming smile, wiping away the tear from your cheek. You let out a quiet chuckle, trying not to burst out crying. You had told him about your hometown and how you loved that spot in the springtime and how you longed to see it again. He had listened. 'I promise' you whispered as he kissed your hand. 'Now try to get some sleep, we need to be ready for whatever is coming tomorrow', he said and retreated to his bed.

The next day brought its own challenges. Gi-hun's knowledge of the system had helped your group stay alive thus far. His next proposal was to organize an attack on the guards and their leader. You knew it was a great risk and tried to hide your concern for Dae-ho who was determined to be a part of it. He kept glancing at you as they were making the plan. He knew the danger he was exposing himself to, but he was ready to do anything to make sure you two to walk out of there alive. Before they headed out the door, you ran up to him. 'Dae-ho!' He turned to look at you with his soft gaze, his lips thinning into a line. You took a deep breath. 'I'll be waiting for you", you said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

... All you could hear were shots being fired. You had just managed to calm yourself a bit, when you saw Dae-ho entering through the door, your face lighting up at the relief. He was back. You ran up to him, smiling on the verge of tears. He looked terrified and went straight to the dead guards on the floor fumbling around in their pockets taking the ammo. You tried talking to him but he wasn't responding, focused on collecting all the charges. You noticed what he was doing and helped him, piling them up in a bundle in the green hoodie. 'Stay here' he said and ran out the door. Confused, you went back to the beds, praying everything was going to turn out alright. Several minutes later, you saw Dae-ho reentering and hiding himself away in one of the beds, holding his palms over his ears, visibly shaking. A second later, player 120 came after him, you could see them talking about something. You ran up to them and found out what had happened. As you put your arms around Dae-ho and he laid his head against your chest, new guards entered and started shooting at the ceiling. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry', he kept repeating. You held him tightly, bracing yourself for whatever was coming next. 'Remember the cherry blossoms, we're safe and happy'.

#daeho x reader #dae ho x reader #kang dae-ho x reader #player 388 x reader #kang daeho #squid game fanfic #kang daeho fanfic #kang dae ho #kang dae-ho #player 388 #squid game #kang daeho x reader

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scoutofmymind · 19 hours ago

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fratboy!Luigi x i-dont-wanna-be-here!Reader just randomly had the thought of Lu being a rowdy frat boy and got kinda Tingly

Divine Timing Bullshit { Luigi x Reader }

Content: pretty much SFW (if you read about an alleged assassin at work), kissing, existential crisis, Fratboy Lu is actually a sweetie

W.c: 2,485

Notes; Yeah he’s an aggro-frat boy, but he’s also a stoned philosopher, and you appreciate that, because you’re kind of losing it.

Ohh, oh, oh. Yes, yes, yes. Frat boy with a brain and heart, reader is lowkey Going Through It.

Second-year frat parties had lost their theoretical allure. Gone was that first-year thrill of living the quintessential college experience, of checking off every box in the collegiate party manual.

This year, though. This year felt different.

"Who's going to be there?" You mumble through a mouthful of scone, eyes fixed on your screen. The pastry, a hasty purchase between classes, sits half-forgotten in your cheek.

"Since when do you care?" Your roommate swivels from her desk—a chaos of textbooks, scattered lip glosses, an open laptop, and uncapped mascaras. She brandishes her lip pencil like an accusatory finger, eyebrows arched. "You're turning into such a second-year hermit."

You flinch at the accusation, phone dropping to your chest as you stop mid-chew. "Fuck," you mutter, brushing pastry debris from your hoodie — the same one you've been living in for... three nights? Four?

She doesn't need to spell it out. You've become a ghost haunting the same tired circuit: dorm room, library, labs, class. Any moment of freedom dissolves into endless study sessions or mindless TikTok scrolling until you drift off to the white noise of ASMR or satisfying slime crafts.

"Don't make me go alone." Her voice cracks with a plea you can't dismiss. "We're supposed to be doing college together. We promised."

The pact.

The fucking pact.

You'd both sworn, hands clasped under string lights in your shared room during orientation week, that you wouldn't let each other miss out on anything. Not the midnight donut runs, not the questionable decisions, not the memories that were supposed to make these years matter.

And so, it was settled.

•

The house loomed before you, nothing like the usual frat dungeons. This was old money — a sprawling estate with an infinity pool that cut into the manicured lawn like a slice of sky, and a home theater visible through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Bodies pressed past, each collision a reminder that you'd rather be elsewhere.

"Whose fuckin' house is this?" The words barely leave your mouth before your roommate's giggle floats up, her shoulder bumping yours as she shrugs.

The question evaporates into the thrum of bass and chatter.

You knew the drill by now.

She'd disappear into the crowd, hunting for tonight's conquest, while you'd drift through rooms like a wandering spirit in limbo — observing the drama unfold, helping yourself to whatever expensive snacks rich kids kept in their pantries, and sometimes, when the night got boring enough, investigating medicine cabinets.

Eventually, your travels lead you toward clusters of laughing girls, some familiar faces from lecture halls, others newly christened friends after thirty seconds of slurred introductions.

The living room couch has become your sanctuary, a perfect vantage point for the night's theater.

"God, he's fucking hot." Liz's whisper cuts through the ambient chatter, her eyes fixed on the kitchen where the imported marble island has devolved into a battlefield of red cups and spilled beer.

A tall figure commands the space, radiating the particular brand of arrogance that comes with being undefeated at beer pong for the past hour.

"Who?" Your eyebrows knit together before shooting upward in realization. She can't possibly mean -

"His name's Luigi." Her voice takes on that dreamy quality, like a third-grader confessing her first crush behind the jungle gym. "He's studying Computer Science."

Your face contorts into an expression somewhere between horror and disbelief.

"I know," Liz breathes, mirroring your shock. Luigi wasn't unattractive — that was the problem. The universe had already dealt him the unfair hand of conventional beauty; the revelation of actual intelligence felt like cosmic overkill. "Wouldn't think he was aiming any higher than a business degree, huh?"

You watch him slam another cup, arms raised in victory, and try to reconcile this frat god with the same person who probably spent hours debugging code.

The image doesn't compute.

Every other CS major you knew was either passed out in the engineering building or mainlining caffeine in their dorm, not holding court over a beer pong empire.

"Just gives typical aggro frat vibes," you mutter, unable to tear your eyes away from the spectacle. He's exchanging those elaborate, ritualistic handshakes with his bros, throwing back shots like water. Your body instinctively recoils, but there's something magnetic about the train wreck unfolding before you — like watching a perfectly coded program crash in spectacular fashion.

He's performing, you realize — a master of his craft, painting broad strokes of the perfect college experience. Creating stories he'll tell at reunions and job interviews, memories that look better through the lens of a camera than they feel in real time.

You study Luigi's practiced grin, the way he looms over his temporary kingdom, and something shifts.

Does he have someone to call at 3 AM when the world caves in? Or are these connections as deep as the beer puddles on the marble counter — evaporating by morning?

The room tilts slightly, your earlier drinks and that passed joint finally catching up, making everything sharper and softer all at once.

Your gaze drifts over your own circle, these girls laughing and sharing secrets like best friends, some of which you'd only learned most of their names moments ago.

The thought hits you like cold water: who among them would you trust with your real stories? Who would pick up your call at 3 AM? Are you any different from Luigi — just playing your own part in this performance?

The night air slaps you awake before you even realize you've fled, your feet carrying you to a hidden corner of the garden where a stone fountain whispers secrets to itself. Here, the party exists only in echoes — distant laughter, scattered arguments, and drunken declarations of love or war floating across the manicured lawn.

You tilt your head skyward, searching for anchor points among the stars and the world narrows to just this: the cool stone beneath you, the rhythm of water, the infinite above -

"Hey."

Your body jolts to attention, the peaceful moment shattering like glass. Your eyes drop from the constellations to find a different kind of celestial body standing before you — broad shoulders blocking out stars, dark features caught in shadow, curls tumbling across his forehead.

Your mind scrambles for a name, like trying to catch smoke.

Luis? Lucas?

Luigi.

The beer pong champion himself, somehow materialized from your earlier observations like a summoned entity.

"Hey." Your body performs an awkward dance on the bench, caught between making room and trying to collapse into nothingness.

"What are you doing out here?"

The question, though innocent enough, triggers your defenses. Your response comes with teeth: "I could ask you the same thing." It's a warning label, bright and clear: Approach With Caution.

The garden's twinkle lights catch him in their amber web, transforming the beer pong champion into something softer — sweat-sheened skin, features gentled by shadow.

His posture reads like an open book written in a language you can't quite translate, neither defensive nor inviting.

Just curious.

"Well, you could." The words roll out with the same casual grace as the shoulder he shrugs, a yet-unlit joint dancing between his lips as his thumbs tap out a message on his phone's glow. "And I'd just say I live here."

The universe, it seems, has a sense of humor.

A groan slips past your defenses as mortification sets in. Of all the backyards in New York, you had to stake your claim in this one, then challenge its owner about his right to be there.

"To answer your question though-“ The words come filtered through the joint until flame meets paper. He exhales, and his next words ride out on a cloud of smoke: "I came out here to call my mom." His phone screen glows with evidence — his mother's contact photo, her name bookended by heart emojis and a simple Mama.

Something about Luigi — maybe the lingering beer pong bravado, maybe the way he wears this vulnerability so casually — still begs to be challenged. "Gotta make sure she doesn't suspect you have about one hundred NYU students in her home, hm?"

He shakes his head, the sound he makes sliding down the scale like lazy jazz. "Nah, she doesn't care about that shit." His thumb hovers over the keyboard, apparently deciding a text will suffice for tonight's check-in. "And there's definitely not a hundred people in there right now."

You study his posture — the way confidence and caution occupy the same space in his frame, like watercolors bleeding into each other. "Where's she?"

Luigi's eyes lift from his screen to find yours. "Seychelles." The message swooshes into the digital void before his phone disappears into his pocket. "Your turn."

The garden's ambient soundtrack fills the space between you, water music from the fountain where a bronze boy — who bears a suspicious resemblance to a younger Luigi — plays eternal lifeguard to the trickling streams.

Your eyes lock across the dim space, neither yielding.

"My turn to what?" The question is a stalling tactic, and you both know it.

"Your turn to tell me what you're doing out here."

Your gaze wanders the curated wilderness around you — the fairy-lit canopy, the fountain's eternal performance, the swimming pool framed by trees sculpted into shapes that belong in a vintage Playboy spread.

Everything here speaks of a life so different from yours, yet something about the engineering student standing before you, texting his mom from his own party, suggests a truth you hadn’t expected; the distance between your worlds might be shorter than it appears.

"Just needed some air." The lie falls flat, each word a domino tipping toward the truth you're trying to outrun—that existential spiral triggered by watching him earlier, wondering about the depth of his connections, only to find your own relationships reflecting back just as shallow.

Luigi claims his spot beside you, the bench suddenly alive with shared warmth. His knowing smirk and raised eyebrows speak volumes while his lips stay sealed, the silence between you stretching like taffy until -

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting some air." He mirrors your words back to you, a perfect echo with an undertone of challenge.

Your hands scrub across your face as if trying to erase something, and when you turn to face him, he's already there, matching your position like a choreographed dance. His eyes lock onto yours — steady, focused — as you stare back with the wild gaze of someone about to jump off a cliff.

"Do you ever think maybe you're just kinda... existing?"

There it is — your midnight confession spilling out into his garden, raw and unfiltered as the joint smoke curling between you.

Luigi catalogs you with the quiet satisfaction of someone who's just solved a puzzle — noting the timbre of your voice (hoarse from shouting over beer pong champions and top-40 hits), the way moonlight catches in your hair, how your eyes betray every thought. "I know that's what I'm doing," he nods, conviction steady as a heartbeat. "And that's enough."

"But what about the connections? What about true and real bonds?" The words tumble out as you watch him draw from the joint. He offers it your way — a bridge between strangers — but you wave it off, earning a laugh that somehow makes your existential crisis feel less like drowning.

"What about them?"

"Don't you miss having them?"

His shoulder grazes yours as he makes a face that suggests you're missing something obvious. "Existing doesn't mean I cease to create bonds or connections." His voice intensifies beside you, taking on the weight of someone that had something to convince you of. "They happen everyday."

The stare between you holds with magnetic force, compelling you to consider his truth: maybe you're the one who's been building walls instead of bridges, hiding in recycled hoodies and social media scrolls while real connections knock at your door.

"You think?" Your vision shifts, the aggressive frat facade dissolving to reveal something unexpectedly gentle around the edges.

"Well, what do you call this." His finger traces an invisible line between you, the gesture casual but weighted. "I think there's reason for everything, besides, like, cancer, or something." The statement perfectly gift-wraps his essence:

A walking contradiction — the frat boy who steps away from his own party to text his mom, a beer pong champion who philosophizes between 'likes,' an engineering major who can turn existential crisis into comfortable conversation.

"Well, it's interesting, to say the least." You're not sure if you mean this moment, this revelation, or Luigi himself. All you know is that Liz will either lecture you about garden rendezvous with her biggest crush, or demand a word-for-word replay.

Probably both.

"You think there's a reason we're both out here, then?" The question follows him as he leans forward, stubbing out his joint in a tray by the fountain. "Some sort of divine-timing bullshit?"

"I do." His conviction stands unwavering against your skepticism. "That's exactly what I think."

The sigh that escapes you carries the weight of self-awareness — maybe you're the one standing in your own way.

"Give me your phone." His shoulder nudges yours again, and you find yourself digging through your purse without hesitation, unlocking it before passing it over.

No questions asked — maybe you're already buying into this divine timing thing.

He returns your phone with a smile that seems to know something you don't. His own phone lights up with urgent news about a friend's overindulgence, likely greening out on the front lawn. "Gotta split."

You straighten your back, body still glued firmly to the bench beneath you, “Wait,” the request comes out steady, but hurried, afraid he might evaporate somewhere into the midnight air. “How - how do you do it, then?”

He settles back down, closer this time, “Do what?”

“Make it easier — connections, parties, being..” You gesture vaguely at all of him. “Present.”

Luigi considers this, his smile softening. "Maybe because I don't overthink it. Like right now — you're probably wondering if this is the right moment to ask the right question, when really..." He leans in slightly, voice dropping. "Sometimes you just have to let things happen."

The air shifts between you, heavy with possibility.

You're acutely aware of how close he is, how his eyes keep dropping to your lips as he speaks.

"Is that what you're doing?" Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Letting things happen?"

"I'm letting myself do what I've wanted to since I saw you having an existential crisis by my fountain."

And then he's kissing you — or maybe you're kissing him — the distinction lost in the warm press of lips and the lingering taste of smoke. It's gentle at first, questioning, until you lean into it and his hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

When he pulls back, that knowing smile returns. "See? Divine timing bullshit."

His phone buzzes again, more insistent this time. "Duty calls," he sighs, standing. "But text me. We'll work on your overthinking problem."

Read pt 2 Here ☁️

#req #luigi mangione fanfic #Luigi mangione x reader

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gilbertscurls · 23 hours ago

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request::: the triplets each have a significant other and they all film a youtube video but it’s some sort of couples challenge video and it’s just a really cute, full of fluff, little video and all the comments are full of people talking about how cute they all are🥰🥰

hope you like it!! <3

couples challenge — sturniolo triplets

The familiar click of the camera shutter signals that they’re recording. Chris adjusts his beanie, Nick leans closer to the camera with his signature grin, and Matt offers a small, crooked smile while fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. Behind them, the couch is crowded—three couples squished together, a mix of excitement and mild chaos brewing in the air.

"Alright, guys!" Nick starts, his voice full of energy. "Today’s video is a little different because—well, you can see—we’ve got our significant others with us!"

The camera pans slightly as Jake, Olivia, and Y/N wave awkwardly but enthusiastically.

"Introduce yourselves!" Chris urges.

Jake, sitting close to Nick with their hands intertwined, smiles brightly. "Hi, I’m Jake. I’ve been stuck with Nick for two years now, send help."

Everyone laughs, and Nick playfully shoves Jake’s shoulder.

Olivia, sitting beside Chris, rolls her eyes with affection. "I’m Olivia. Chris is lucky to have me, and he knows it."

Chris lets out an exaggerated sigh, clutching his chest dramatically. "So lucky. Beyond words."

Finally, it’s Y/N’s turn. Sitting cross-legged beside Matt, she nudges his knee before speaking. "Hey, I’m Y/N. And Matt is…" She looks over at him, pausing for dramatic effect. "Well, Matt’s here."

The room erupts in laughter as Matt shakes his head, biting back a smile.

"Okay, okay!" Nick claps his hands. "Today, we are doing the Couples Compatibility Challenge! Basically, we’ll answer questions about our relationships, and if our answers don’t match, there’s a consequence."

Chris holds up a spray bottle filled with water. "And guess what? The consequence is getting sprayed in the face. Have fun."

Round One: Who said ‘I love you’ first?

Matt and Y/N glance at each other and hold up their whiteboards. Both say: Matt.

"Aww!" Olivia coos, leaning against Chris.

"Wait, Matt said it first?!" Nick looks genuinely surprised.

Matt shrugs, his ears slightly red. "I had to lock it in, bro."

Chris holds up his board: Olivia. Olivia holds hers up: Chris.

"Nooo!" Olivia groans as Chris grins wickedly and sprays her face lightly with water.

Jake and Nick hold up their boards, both reading: Jake.

Jake smirks. "He was nervous. It was cute."

Nick buries his face in his hands as everyone teases him.

Round Two: What’s your partner’s biggest pet peeve?

Y/N holds up her board: When Matt leaves socks everywhere.

Matt blinks at his board: Loud chewing.

Everyone bursts into laughter as Chris grabs the spray bottle and gives Matt a quick spritz.

"Bro, you really thought it was loud chewing? You literally leave socks everywhere," Y/N says, exasperated but laughing.

Chris and Olivia both answer correctly: When Chris leaves cabinets open.

"I swear I’m trying to be better," Chris says dramatically.

Nick and Jake? Dead wrong.

Nick writes: When I forget important dates.

Jake writes: When Nick hogs the blanket.

A chaotic spray war ensues, with Nick grabbing the water bottle and spraying Jake back in retaliation.

Round Three: Who’s the better cook?

Jake, Olivia, and Y/N all hold up their boards confidently: Me.

The triplets? All write: Them.

"Wow," Matt says flatly. "We are collectively the most useless chefs in history."

Chris shrugs. "But at least we know our strengths."

Eventually, the video ends with everyone crowded back on the couch, cheeks flushed from laughing and hair slightly damp from the water spray.

"Alright, guys, that’s it for today!" Nick announces. "Make sure to like, comment, and subscribe—and let us know if you want to see more videos with the six of us!"

"And who you think the cutest couple is," Chris adds, pointing directly at himself and Olivia.

"Obviously it’s us," Jake jokes, leaning against Nick.

Matt wraps an arm loosely around Y/N’s shoulder. "You guys are both wrong."

The camera cuts out as everyone dissolves into more laughter and playful bickering.

The comments flood in within minutes of the upload:

Top Comment: "Okay but all three couples are literally the cutest. Nick and Jake’s trivia domination, Matt and Y/N’s wholesome vibes, and Chris and Olivia just being chaotic—10/10 content. 🥺✨"

Comment #2: "Y/N and Matt are giving childhood-best-friends-to-lovers energy and I’m eating it UP."

Comment #3: "Nick and Jake are my comfort duo. The way Nick just KNOWS Jake is everything."

Comment #4: "Chris and Olivia are such golden retriever/black cat energy and I refuse to believe otherwise."

Comment #5: "Petition for more couples content because I could watch this for HOURS."

Comment #6: "Lowkey obsessed with how Y/N roasted Matt for five minutes straight but then called him ‘babe’ all soft and sweet. 💀❤️"

Comment #7: "Nick and Jake finishing each other’s sentences is what true love looks like, folks."

Comment #8: "Chris looking at Olivia like she hung the stars even when she was roasting him for not knowing her favorite movie? Yeah. Yeah, I’m emotional."

Final Comment Highlight: "Someone said ‘Sturniolo Couples Cinematic Universe’ in the replies and honestly... yeah. That’s it. That’s the vibe."

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

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riddlessecretss · 3 days ago

Text

Come to bed, cariño.

Carlos sainz x !painter!reader.

Wc-630.

Warnings- just some kisses, just fluff.

Summary- Staying up late to finish your painting before the deadline until Carlos gets too needy.

You listen to your music singing along adding white strokes to help let the water waves shine. This past week has been very stressful trying to get all your artworks done, your are now starting your fifth piece out of eight. Carlos hasn’t had a problem with you being in your art room 24/7 since he has so many workshops and media trips, but at night you both made a promise to go bed on time with each other if we are together. So when you are late to cuddle with him he comes looking for you.

“Baby? Come on let’s get some sleep you can finish this tommorow!” He rushes you sweetly, waiting for you to make a move before realising you have headphones on. You take them of feeling Carlos’ hands warm a place on your shoulders. “Hey guapo, you ok?” ~handsome~ You look up to see Carlos’ wet hair.

“Yeah, are you coming to bed I want to hear about your day cariño, hmm?” He smiles and kisses your cheek.

“Yes im coming darling I just need to finish this, all I have to do is add varnish now.”

You get up aiming to get the varnish but Carlos grabs it and holds it above your head. “Carlos I know what you’re doing but if I leave the varnish for tomorrow it won’t set in time, I need to do this, this is my job!” You get on your tip toes pulling his arm down to try and grab the bottle.

“You don’t need a job anyway, you know I can aid you for the rest of your life. Come on baby.” He whispers the last part while leaning down to hug you.

You take this opportunity to grab the bottle from his hands and kiss his cheek. “Now sit down while I do this ok? I’ll make it fun..” you giggle before playing ‘smooth operator’ by Sade after he sits down watching him smirk. He quietly sings along as you paint over the thin coat. “

Let me just wash my hands ok?” I smile standing up and stretching.

“Yeah what set do you want to sleep in mi vida?”

“Umm you pick, im guessing you’ve already had a shower judging by your wet hair, but I’m just going to have a quick five minute one to get off the paint from my arms and chest.” You follow Carlos upstairs after turning off all the lights.

“Tomorrow we are going to visit my dad and piñon my mum won’t be there but if we stay a bit late we can see her, are you coming?”

“Yeah I will come I love piñon.” You start the shower as Carlos brushes his teeth and waiting for you to get out. As you leave the shower and get ready for bed you have a good idea. “Carlos? Can we get a dog?” Carlos smiles and walks over to you, “how did you know I wanted one? I’ve thought about it for a while. Even when we are gone they can play with piñon.” You smile and kiss Carlos softly, “what a good idea my love.”

You smile warmly into your hug then settling into bed. Carlos cuddles you and you cuddle close to get warm. “So how was your day cariño?” You take a second to think about what you have done apart from painting, “well I pretty much just painted the whole day but I also had a meeting with my manager and my pay is going up. That’s why is was so important for me to finish that piece.” You smile and turn to face Carlos.

“Mm well done my artista.” You giggle and kiss Carlos romantically,”I love you baby.”

“I love you too cariño even when you’re stubborn.”

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #riddlessecretss

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holylulusworld · 3 days ago

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A fresh start (6) – New Beginnings

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Post-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, plus-sized reader, virgin reader, virgin Steve Rogers, fluff, implied smut, first time, romance

A/N: A short last chapter.

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1

Catch up here: A fresh start (5) - First dates

A fresh start masterlist

“Doll?” Steve gasped. “I thought…I mean. You’re so beautiful and sweet. I can’t believe you never had a man before me. There must’ve been dozens of guys interested in you.”

“None of them were you,” you replied, gently touching his cheek. “Maybe I was waiting for the right man, and he sits right before me.”

“Same!” He hastily said. “I meant not a guy, but the right girl. I once thought I found her, but we weren’t meant to be. Now that I met you, I know what love is.”

You giggle because this is the sweetest and cheesiest thing to say. “I love you too, Stevie.”

“Thank fuck!” Steve exclaimed before kissing you softly. He moaned against you, feeling his heart flutter.

“No swear words, Captain,” you said, and cupped his face to deepen the kiss. “But I’m glad you love me too.”

Your confessions didn’t make things awkward between you and Steve. If anything, it made you both realize you have so much more in common than you thought.

His friends gave him advice and tried to strengthen his self-confidence. Steve didn’t listen. He didn’t want to lose his virginity in a hurry for the sake of having sex.

Steve wanted to do things right. He’d taken you out on dates and organized romantic dinners. Steve even went so far as to sign up for a cooking class to learn how to cook for his future wife.

One afternoon, he invited you to a romantic picnic in the park, and the next week, he enchanted you with his first homemade dinner.

You only fell harder for the charming superhero. He proved over and over again that he’s more than a handsome face. Steve Rogers is a kind soul and a sensitive man.

When you both were ready to take the next step in your relationship and after Steve assured you he was here to stay (even though you already knew that much), you let yourself fall.

Steve and you didn’t rush things. You started with soft kisses, gentle touches, and grinding against each other. You were both nervous and, to be honest, a little clumsy.

He was scared to hurt you, and you were afraid he’d be disappointed after seeing you bare for the first time. You were both wrong.

Steve couldn’t take his eyes or hands off you. And you weren’t afraid of getting hurt only because your boyfriend is enhanced. He was gentle and careful, always asking you if you felt good or if you wanted him to stop.

You clawed at him, refusing to stop now that you were finally united with the man you love.

It was worth waiting for Steve. He was a passionate yet gentle lover, and all you hoped for. Even though you ripped three condoms because your hands were busy exploring your bodies.

You laughed about it later, looking at the used and destroyed condoms lying on the ground. Because let’s be honest, Steve can do it all day and night.

Four months later you look at Steve, tears in your eyes as he kneels in front of you. His friends cheer him on as Steve asks the most important question.

“Doll, Y/N,” he whispers your name lovingly. “You’ve changed my life forever, and only because of you, I could save the world one last time. Now that I gave the shield to Sam, would you give me the honor of wearing my ring?”

Bucky and Sam held their breath as you stared at their friend for a moment. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Stunned, you watched the man you love kneel in front of you, his smile fading with every passing second.

“Fuck, what if she says no?” Bucky whispered while Sam prepared a speech to help Steve cope. “She wouldn’t do that. Right?”

“Why do you ask me?” Sam retorted the moment everyone clapped their hands. Bucky and Sam watched Steve put the ring on your finger before kissing you fiercely.

“Great! Now we missed it!” Bucky grunted.

Sam glared at Bucky. “And whose fault is it, old man?”

“Guys, are you ready to celebrate my engagement now, or do you want to fight some more?” Steve joked as you grinned as Bucky and Sam glared at each other. “Doll, I’m sorry. They come in a package with me.”

You both laughed wholeheartedly before sealing Steve’s proposal with another passionate kiss. Soon you’d be wearing not only his ring but Steve’s name too.

THE END, for now...

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #x reader #steve rogers x plus!sized reader #plussized reader #A fresh start (6) – New Beginnings

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starsenha · 2 days ago

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[4] TEACHER'S PET - this is awkward

synopsis: before your junior year of uni started, you and your friends decided to go to the club. who would've thought that the guy you hooked up with ended up being your new business management professor. wc: 1,3k

You walked into the large lecture hall, flanked by Suyeon and Hanni, the three of you juggling oversized iced coffees and barely-contained excitement. It was the second day of your senior year of college, and while you were far from morning people, the prospect of gossip—and caffeine—had perked you up.

“I heard the new professor for this class is hot,” Hanni said, taking a long sip from her iced latte. “Like, model who accidentally became an academic hot.”

You smirked. “Where do you even hear this stuff?”

“Twitter,” Hanni said confidently. “There’s a Decelis University thread where people post gossip about professors. Professor Park is apparently fresh meat.”

Suyeon raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile. “Fresh meat? Hanni, we’re supposed to be professional businesswomen in training.”

Hanni rolled her eyes. “Professional businesswomen deserve eye candy too. Let me have this.”

You laughed as you climbed the stairs of the lecture hall, picking seats near the middle. The room was already buzzing with students, and everyone was murmuring about the new professor no one had seen yet. You set your coffees down and pulled out your laptops.

“Honestly,” Suyeon said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “if he’s even half as hot as twitter says, this might actually make business management bearable.”

You snorted. “Hot professor or not, this class is going to be brutal. It’s, like, one of the most important courses for our major.”

Hanni waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. But if we’re suffering, at least we’ll have something nice to look at.”

Before you could respond, the sound of the door closing silenced the room. Everyone turned to the front, and you froze the moment you saw him.

Walking confidently to the podium was none other than Jay. Jay, the same guy you had slept with at the club. He was dressed in a sharp blazer and crisp shirt, his hair perfectly styled, and his expression professional—until his eyes flickered to you.

Your jaw dropped, your heart racing as realization hit you like a freight train. Oh my God.

Next to you, Hanni and Suyeon exchanged wide-eyed glances, both recognizing him immediately.

“Isn’t that—?” Hanni whispered, her voice barely audible.

Suyeon leaned closer to you. “That’s the guy from the club. The one you—”

“I know,” you muttered, your voice a strangled whisper. “Shut up.”

At the front of the room, Jay’s eyes locked on you for a brief moment, his expression shifting from professional calm to brief, unmistakable shock. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away, his jaw tightening as he adjusted his papers on the podium.

“Good morning, everyone,” Jay began, his voice steady but slightly strained. “Welcome to Business Management. My name is Professor Park, and I’ll be your instructor for this course.”

You slouched in her chair, trying to make yourself invisible. “This is so awkward,” you hissed to Hanni and Suyeon, who were barely holding back their laughter.

“You think?” Hanni whispered, biting her lip to keep from giggling. “This is hilarious.”

“He looks like he wants to evaporate,” Suyeon added, her voice low. “And honestly? Same.”

Jay continued his introduction, his voice gradually regaining confidence, but he kept stealing glances at you as if he couldn’t believe you, of all people, were sitting there, the girl he hadn't stopped thinking about since that night at the club. You caught one of those glances and quickly looked away, your cheeks burning.

“This course is designed to challenge you,” Jay said, pacing slightly. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise, if you put in the effort, you’ll come out of it with valuable skills.”

“Like how to avoid sleeping with your students?” Hanni whispered under her breath, earning a sharp elbow from you.

“Stop,” you hissed, glaring at your friend, though your lips twitched in reluctant amusement.

Jay’s eyes flickered to them again, and you swore you saw a hint of color rising in his cheeks before he looked back at his notes.

As he continued outlining the syllabus, you leaned toward Hanni and Suyeon, your voice low. “What are the odds this semester kills me from sheer embarrassment?”

Hanni smirked. “High. Very high.”

----------------------

The class was finally finished. Thank god. You packed your things quickly, hoping to slip out of the lecture hall unnoticed. The entire class had been a masterclass in awkwardness—Jay stealing glances, your friends giggling like maniacs.

You were almost at the door, just steps away from freedom, when you heard his voice.

“Yn.”

Your entire body froze, and you winced as if physically struck. You turned slowly, your face carefully neutral, though your heart raced.

“Yes, Professor Park?” you asked, your tone polite but strained.

Jay stood at the podium, his hands resting on its edges. His expression was composed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. He gestured for you to approach, and you sighed, motioning to Hanni and Suyeon.

“Wait for me outside,” you murmured to them.

Hanni grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good luck,” she whispered before grabbing Suyeon and heading out. You shot her a glare before walking back down toward Jay.

You stopped a few feet from him, crossing your arms defensively. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual.

Jay waited until the last student had exited the room, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving you alone with him. He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before speaking.

“This is… awkward,” he admitted, his voice low.

You let out a dry laugh. “You think?”

Jay gave you a sharp look, though his lips quirked slightly. “Look, let’s just address the elephant in the room. What happened between us…” He paused, his voice steady but strained. “It can’t happen again.”

You nodded, leaning casually against one of the desks. “Agreed. I’m not exactly looking to add ‘scandal’ to my college transcript.”

Jay relaxed slightly, though the tension between you still lingered. “Good. So, moving forward, we’ll keep this strictly professional. A professor-student relationship. Nothing more.”

“Strictly professional,” You echoed, nodding. But your lips curved into a teasing smirk as your eyes flicked over him. “Got it.”

Jay caught the look immediately, and his jaw tightened. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Like I’m…” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Like I’m something you want to devour.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk growing. “Can’t help it if the truth slips out, Professor.”

Jay groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if physically restraining himself. “Yn, I’m serious.”

You shrugged, your posture deliberately casual, though your gaze was anything but. “I’m just saying. You don’t make it easy to stay professional.”

“Neither do you,” Jay shot back, his eyes flickering—despite himself—to the sliver of exposed skin between your cropped top and high-waisted jeans. Your toned stomach caught his attention for a moment too long, and he forced himself to look away, clearing his throat.

“You can’t show up to class dressed like this,” he muttered, his voice tight.

You laughed softly, stepping closer, your confidence radiating. “Last I checked, dress codes don't apply to college students.”

Jay’s eyes darted back to yours, his frustration warring with something far more primal. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I thought we agreed to keep it professional,” you teased, leaning in slightly. “You’re the one breaking your own rules.”

Jay groaned again, his voice low and blunt. “Yn, if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to lose it.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, but you straightened, taking a step back. “Alright, Professor Park,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “Consider me warned.”

Jay exhaled sharply, his gaze softening as he tried to regain his composure. “Just… go. And please, for both our sakes, keep this professional.”

You gave him one last smile, your tone playful as you walked toward the door. “See you next class, Professor.”

As the door closed behind you, Jay let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. This semester is going to kill me.

previous / m.list / next

TAGLIST: @jakef3ver @bxcndd @03sunoos @insommni4 @jjhmk @haevvv @hyinneehoon @wildtigerlili @eyesonlybutterflies @right-person-wrong-time @tkooooop @jooniesbears-blog @baedreamverse @kyshhhhhh @sunhyeswife @sumzysworld

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demonic0angel · 6 hours ago

Note

Prolonged ecto contamination can cause regenerative abilities. This is great when something important is stabbed or a limb is lost. But for other things, not so much.

“Daddy,” A five year old cried, “somethings wrong with mommy!”

Jason ran to his and his wifes room. He stopped by the door, taking in Jazz's tense still frame perched on the edge of their bed. She gazed at a small cylinder object cluched in her hands.

"Jazz?" Jason called.

She slowly lifted her gaze to him and turned the object around, revealing two pink lines.

"Is-is that an old one?" Jason stammered.

Jazz moved her head to side to side.

"Defective?"

"I've done ten of them, all the same."

But, but that couldn't be. Jason mentally floundered. After a failed vasectomy resulting in kid numer six and then a failed tube tying causeing baby number seven, Jazz had a hysterectomy.

Jason opened his mouth to address this but then remembered that their kids were in the room. It wouldn't be good for kids to witness their parents having a meltdown over a positive pregnancy test. Or discuss a possible lawsuit against a certain hospital and surgeon.

Switching gears, Jason called to his kids, "Come on tribe! To the living room for a movie."

"What about Mommy?" the five year old protested.

"Don't worry," Jason scooped up his kid and pecked her forehead. "Your dad got this," he said with way more confidence than he felt.

(OML I LITERALKY FUCKING ROLLED WHEN I SAW THIS ASK ASDFGHHKLLL THIS IS SO FUNNY BC IN MY ORIGINAL IDEAS ABIUT ANGER MANAGEMENT, THEY HAVE 5 KIDS)

Jazz stared at him blankly. Jason stared back. They both stared at each other. Then he admitted, “I don’t think I got this.”

Thank goodness their oldest, Elinor, was able to understand and distract all of her siblings. Now it was just Jason, Jazz, and their Ancient ghost dog alone to discuss what to do next.

Jazz continued staring at him, holding Shadow in her arms before she said, “Y’know, we could….”

“Don’t even start,” he said in exasperation. While he would always give her the choice, he knew that none of them would actually genuinely consider it.

She sighed. “I know. I want it anyways. It’s mine. It’s our baby.”

Her possessiveness was so cute. Jason reached over to hug her, squeezing her gently and placing his chin on her head. It was a bit difficult due to her height, but she hunched over to tuck herself into his arms, so it was a little easier.

“We’ll handle it. Together, like always. It’s not like we’re lacking in money anyways. And we have plenty of rooms and we can get help from our support groups. I can take another break from being Red Hood and you’ve never stopped your online therapy sessions, so I think we can do this.”

Jazz sighed, nodding before she suddenly groaned aloud and used a fist to hit Jason’s chest. Jason blinked. “What?”

“You know what my siblings call me?! They call Miss Weasley! At this rate, we’ll have a football team by the time we’re done!”

Jason tried not to laugh but a twitch must’ve alerted Jazz to his amusement because she looked up at him and glared. Shadow growled lightly on her lap. She scolded, “You’re giving the news to our families again. And I won’t stop Dan from trying to kill you this time.”

“Even if it makes you a single mother to 7 kids?” Jason asked idly.

Jazz paused and then she cursed softly. Jason snorted into her shoulder before Jazz then said, “I think after this, we’re using condoms again.”

Horrified, Jason lifted his head up and stared at her in disbelief and shocked horror. “What!”

“Jason! We have 7 kids now! Can I please get a break!”

Jason groaned, long and loud. Then he sighed, rubbing Jazz’s sides in faux sadness as he bemoaned, “Fine… since I love you so much… I’ll wear protection next time…”

Jazz pinched his cheek with a little narrowed eye stare and smile, shaking lightly but she said, “Thank you, dearest. We’ll handle this together, alright? It won’t be easy, but we’ve done this six times before, we can do this a seventh time. I think I should ask Dan how he does it…” she mumbled more plans to herself, as Jason just held her, closing his eyes.

If his past self was ever told that he’d have a wife and seven kids, he was sure that he’d probably snitch to the cops that someone was hallucinating.

Not that he’d ever trade this for the world, of course.

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lovelynim · 2 days ago

Text

Sick Leave

Zenless Zone Zero - Wise x Asaba Harumasa

A/N: To think this is the first thing that I managed to finish after all this time... well, it is what it is, but I think I like it.

Summary: Is 'tickled to death' a good reason to ask for a day off work?

Word count: 1304 words

Wise blinked in confusion, still trying to process the absurdity - or reasonability - behind Harumasa’s explanation. He sat back down on top of the other man’s lap; his hands, once poised to strike, now hesitating, clenching at the couch beneath them.

“But-”

“If you really care, proxy, you can’t,” Harumasa insisted, even crossing his arms behind his head before laying back down. “Doctor’s orders,” he added, making Wise pout slightly.

How could such a good, priceless intel be wasted just like this? Be discarded like a spam e-mail or like a troll post on the Inter-Knot? Still, Wise would probably die out of regret if he actually ended up hurting Harumasa because of something like that.

Seeing the upset frown on Wise’s face, a lighthearted chuckle broke the silence between the two men. “I’m sorry ~,” Harumasa cooed and Wise could swear that there was some mockery hidden in those words, “I’m such a disappointment, ain’t I?”

“Don’t say that,” the proxy sighed, shaking his head before his arm on the couch’s backrest, “it’s just hard to believe.”

Too hard, actually, to the point that Wise could cross his heart and hope to die on it. Asaba Harumasa, elite agent, part of the armed forces under H.A.N.D., member of the Hollow Special Operations Section 6… couldn’t, for medical reasons, be tickled?

Wise heard this absurd merely moments ago. He and Harumasa were watching a movie (yes, cuddling together on the couch, but that’s not important *caham*) and, on the screen, one character tickled the other. A brief, short-lived moment, mostly irrelevant to the plot itself. Still, that scene lingered just enough inside Wise’s mind and sparked a question, the question.

‘Are you ticklish, Harumasa?’ Wise had mumbled with his cheek still pressed on top of Harumasa’s chest, his words barely distinguishable from gibberish. ‘Yes, but don’t do it,’ was the other’s plain, calm answer.

Oh, but why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he tickle Harumasa to tears right there and then?

As if controlled by some sort of bigger, incomprehensible force, Wise felt the need to tickle Harumasa at that exact moment. The agent’s words had barely made it inside WIse’s brain and he could already picture all sorts of scenes - Harumasa laughing, blushing, hiding his giggling face behind his hands…

He had to do it!

The proxy, then, moved his hands - his fingers trailing up both Harumasa’s sides at the same time, lightly grazing and wiggling against his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt - and, seconds later, wise could already feel the grip around his wrists, stopping his hands in their tracks and holding them away from the other man’s body.

“I asked you not to, proxy,” Harumasa repeated sternly, his golden eyes leaving the movie aside to look down at Wise’s face.

“Why? Are you that ticklish, Harumas-”

“Because I will get hurt.”

Maybe it was the dead-serious tone in Harumasa’s voice or the (fake) concern in his eyes when he said that, but Wise’s mind went blank. He expected a plea, an angry facade or even some silly excuse… but ‘get hurt’?

The agent, then, explained that his body couldn’t stand being tickled - not because of its apparent sensitivity - but because of his health’s condition.

“My lungs are too weak to let me properly breathe while I’m… under such stress, not to mention my heart could literally explode trying to keep up with it!” It did sound serious, a bit convincing, even.

Wise did think about arguing back, saying how Harumasa could tear all sorts of horrors from the hollows apart effortlessly, and, therefore would be able to stand a bit of tickling, but fighting ethereals and protecting citizens sounded like a much better use for his energy than getting tickled just to please the desires from a single proxy’s heart.

“But what if I am gentle?” Wise suggested, back to present, still trying to find a way into it.

Harumasa’s only answer was a sigh. “That’s not how it works,” he mumbled, softening his tone to add to the dramatic charge of his act, “before we notice, my skin will be covered in bruises, I’ll be coughing like dying man and my heart will be as good as a broken bangboo left-”

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Wise interrupted, waving a hand close to his chest in the hopes of sparing himself from any other gruesome detail of the consequences of tickling Harumasa. Still, that was starting to sound a bit… too much.

“I’m glad you understood it, proxy,” Harumasa smiled, pushing his body up for a brief moment just to wrap his arms around Wise’s neck and drag him back down with him right after. “I really wish I could experience such a thing, but you know how my life is extra diffi- p-prohoxy?!”

Before Harumasa’s act could come to an end, a strained chuckle interrupted his line. With widened eyes, he looked down at Wise’s face - inches away from his - as if hoping that the source of the sensation that just crept up his spine was a mere accident.

“Yes?” Wise grinned slightly, his chin resting by the top of Harumasa’s collarbone.

Harumasa could feel his throat closing, the pressure inside his mouth as his teeth gritted, and his muscles tensing up while Wise’s thumbs rubbed into his lower ribs. “I-I thohought you- ahAH - w-would spahare me of suhuch pain!”

“Wrong,” Wise clicked his tongue, feeling encouraged by the reactions he was managing to draw out of the other guy, “[..........].”

It didn’t take more than a couple seconds for Harumasa to understand that Wise managed to see through his act. That whole discourse may have fooled Seth and Soukaku, but it definitely didn’t seem to work on Wise, the agent noted mentally.

“W-Wise, wahahait! I was seheherious! AHah, plehease, let m-me explahahain!” Harumasa whined, one of his hands reaching for Wise’s while the other latched onto Wise’s shoulder, trying to push him away. None of these attempts, however, had the desirable outcome.

Harumasa couldn’t help but smile - genuinely, this time - as Wise’s fingers wiggled and traced his ribs and the sides of his chest, searching for any ticklish spot like a carrot program collecting data from a hollow. “Your body seems to be handling it pretty well, huh?” Wise teased, as cheeky as possible.

“It’s nOHOhot!!” Harumasa whined, kicking his feet on one end of the couch and pressing his head back on the other. “W-Wise, plehehease!! AHAhah! ~”

“Wait, are you ticklish here too?”

“W-wahait, not thehEHE-”

“...”

[The next day]

“Asaba-kun, you don’t expect me to really approve another leave this week, do you?” Yanagi sighed, looking at the papers her colleague had handed her. “What are these symptoms even supposed to indicate? Cheek and abdominal pain, labored breathing…”

“Y-you don’t need to read it, vice-captain, just sign it” Harumasa groaned sheepishly, standing next to her desk, “I don’t even need it to be long this time, it’s just so I can get checked and make sure my condition isn’t getting any worse.”

Yanagi looked at him with the corner of her eyes, over the lenses of her glasses. She wasn’t convinced. “Please, vice-captain! It’s been like this since- since yesterday! It’s hurting so bad that I had to put up a battle this morning just to come here and talk to you!”

“...sigh, I hope you already have the compensation for this in mind, Asaba-kun. But, of course, you may go see a doctor.”

“Thank you, vice-captain! You’re the best!” Harumasa cheered, springing back into life as if cured just with the idea of getting a day off.

He could hear Soukaku asking Yanagi about his leave while he walked out and an unpleased groan coming from the vice-captain, but it didn’t matter. If anything, Wise was the one to blame this time, not him.

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zenless zone zero tickling #zzz tickling #zzz wise #zzz asaba harumasa #haruwise #wise x harumasa #lee!harumasa #ticklish!harumasa #ler!wise #tickle fic

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