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mv1simp · 5 days ago

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Earned It ♥️ - Part 2 of 2?

Max Verstappen x Wife! Reader

cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it, and you deserve it (the way you work it)

PART ONE HERE ♥️

Once you and your loving husband, Max, are finally ready to start trying for a baby, you face your next challenges as a couple navigating pregnancy. After a tricky conception, the two of you are ecstatic to now be five months pregnant. But lately, you can’t help but worry that your husband doesn’t find you desirable when you notice his behaviour changing. You have no idea how wrong you are until Max finds out about your insecurities…and is determined to prove you so very wrong.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, goddamn where do I even begin with this one, BREEDING KINK GO BRRRR, size kink, dom! Max, pillow princess! Sub! Reader, lots of emotional pregnancy hormones and max being the perfect husband, explicit mention of pregnancy and infertility struggles, 7K WC

Resting your cheek against your hand, you stare at your husband, who’s too focused on his current task to notice his pregnant wife’s annoyed expression. The 6 foot blonde Dutchman in question is dutifully serving up a perfectly balanced dinner for you, all macros and vitamin groups carefully counted as per the personal nutritionist he’s hired. Setting down the plate of smoked rosemary chicken breast, garlicky herb potatoes and sides of sautéed broccolini in front of you, Max stands back to admire his work. You can’t resist a petty Stop looking so proud, I know you hired someone to cook this.

Max pouts rather adorably at you. Surely it counts if I still paid for it, right schat? Rolling your eyes moodily at his antics, you stab a potato with your fork and munch on it, unable to resist the pleased hmm that escapes you at how flavourful the meal was. Noticing your reaction, your husband uses it to try gain your good favour again. You like it, schat? I taste tested five different cooks before I chose this one, he makes the best chocolate brownies, exactly how you like them with double fudge!

He tilts his head earnestly, looking the very picture of a cute golden retriever with his sparkling blue eyes and soft blonde locks. You sigh, putting your fork down. Normally, your darling husband’s devotion has your heart fluttering and cheeks flushing. But not today. No, today, your husband had gone too far - and you were going to make sure he made up for his mistake. When he nudges you to resume your eating, you needed the extra energy after all, you pointedly choose to ignore him. You instead pat the heads of your two Bengal cats and dog, Arlo, who curiously weave in between your legs hoping to get a taste of the fragrant dinner.

Groaning, Max slumps against the dining table in the seat next to you, his own plate ignored. I know why you’re upset, schatje, Max admits, conceding defeat. Finally, you mutter, picking your fork back up to resume dinner. You were mad, sure, but doesn’t mean you weren’t also going to eat the delicious dinner now that he had started his confession! It’s about today, isn’t it? Your husband continues. When you came into the paddock and I started creating a scene? I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it when I’m being too paranoid with your safety but I had to tell those reporters to fuck right off!

You put your fork back down and stare at Max, your brows scrunched in bewilderment. He continues talking, completely unassuming of his wife's growing annoyance as he explains. The "scene" that your clueless husband was referring to had been your attendance at the Monaco Grand Prix earlier that day. The paparazzi had gone positively wild at the rare sight of the retired World Champion with his arm around his obviously pregnant wife - whom he very rarely brought to F1 events for her own safety these days. He still attended races regularly, given how he coached and managed his own racing team now - but that certainly didn't mean he was going to make his beloved wife suffer the stuffiness of the paddock. But you’d insisted on coming to this particular race, pleading at him with puppy eyes, matching your shared golden labrador Arlo’s identical ones as you held the dog up to double your bargaining power. If your friends and family said Max Verstappen was whipped for his wife before, then they'd say he'd ascended into stratospheric levels of devotion once you became pregnant. He could never say no to anything you asked when you flutter your thick lashes up at him.

So even though he hated the idea of nosy reporters and fans getting up in the space of his adorable pregnant wife, he conceded by taking the self anointed role of your bodyguard. He certainly looked the picture of an ominous guard dog, smiling fondly down at you when you chattered to him or tugged his swollen bicep to pull him towards some food - and then icily glaring at anyone who tried to get too close to his wife. Everyone respectfully maintained their distance, scared off by the Dutch Lion. But towards the end of the race, some of the reporters hadn’t been able to resist coming in close when you’d taken your pearl buttoned cardigan off in the heat. The flowy cream-coloured long sleeved, short dress you wore underneath showed off your gentle baby bump. Paparazzio's eyes gleamed at the hot commodity, their hands twitching to their cameras to snap a highly demanded picture. Your husband’s overzealous efforts during the entire pregnancy to buy out publishing companies before anything could reach print and affect your privacy had left the F1 gossip pages begging for a rare photo of Max Verstappen’s pregnant wife.

So when Max turned to speak to one of his old race engineers, some of the reporters eagerly came a bit too close to you. They startle you with the mic suddenly in your face, asking if you were far along enough to know the gender and had you thought of baby names?

Max notices immediately, of course, his metaphorical guard dog ears swivelling in the direction of the intrusion to his wife’s peace. He’s about to interrupt when someone stumbles at the back of the group - a very common occurrence e in the crowded paddock. Unfortunately, that results in the reporter’s mic nudging against your pregnant stomach.

It hadn’t hurt, just a brief push, really! You were just caught off guard and slightly stumbled back yourself, a hand on your belly instinctively. The reporter is already sincerely apologising to you, and you’re waving them off, saying it was not a problem-

But your husband most certainly isn’t on the same page. He steps in front of you, his tall and broad frame completely blocking you away from the frenzied group, and uses a broad sweep of his muscled arm to push the reporter back. You watch in awe as he snarls at the group, reminding everyone of why his nickname was Mad Max, telling them all to fuck off or he’ll have them banned permanently from the paddock.

So this was the apparent scene that your passionate husband thought was the source of your ire, and was earnestly trying to apologise for now. He'd thought you were upset with him hovering over your shoulder, and making a dramatic scene. But he had no clue how wrong he was about the way you truly felt.

Sure, his protectiveness was something you’d talked about a few times - but that was because of how over the top Max had gotten with his security measures when he found out you were pregnant. Anyone who visited your home who dared to so much as politely cough was immediately tossed outside and told to come back when they didn’t have pneumonia. All of your meals were carefully preplanned and cooked for you, and the new motion activated aircon was always running at the right temperature for "optimal blood flow to the baby" (That's a scam, Max you told him blandly, I'm literally a doctor, trust me.) He wouldn’t let you lift anything heavier than your phone for weeks until you'd triumphantly opened a medical textbook to show him the chapter on importance of exercise in pregnancy. But he would still sometimes grab things off your unsuspecting hands after eyeing them dubiously. Your protests fell upon deaf ears - Seriously baby, I love you, but I’m strong enough to carry my own purse - I specifically took the pink Chanel bag today to match my fit!

You’d drawn the line when he had broached the topic, quite early in the pregnancy, of you taking time off your demanding schedule as a doctor and department head of the Emergency Department. But he’d quickly conceded when you firmly told him there was no way in hell you were going to sit at home, bored out of your mind when you were capable of working the first 2 trimesters at least - even 2 and a half?

It was almost comical how rapidly the blonde Dutchman’s face paled at the idea of his heavily pregnant wife running around the overcrowded hospital. So he hastily agreed to your compromise of working the first 5 months, albeit sulking rather cutely. You'd had to gently remind him to ease off, that the baby wasn't due for months, to which he replied that was good because he needed time to install the 12-point alarm system inside the house. You'd rolled your eyes fondly in response, but run a reassuring hand through his blonde locks, making him exhale and lean into your comforting touch. He nuzzles his face into your neck as you rubbed gentle circles to diffuse the tension in his corded back muscles, enjoying the way he’d almost purred contentedly like a cat. You’d reminded him gently to look after himself, too, and not you and his future child. I’m here to take care of you both as well, liefje, you say warmly.

So yes, you suppose one could say Max had been having some trouble…relaxing during your pregnancy. And why he now thought you were frustrated with his overprotective tendencies again today at the Monaco Grand Prix. But the idiot was being completely oblivious to your true feelings.

Because the truth was that you’d found the way he’d defended you fiercely, both in words and action, extremely attractive. And you’d wanted him to know that too, blushing as you look up at him in awe, biting your lip as he guided you into the car to drive you home with a clenched jaw. There was something about seeing your already gorgeous husband look ready to go to commit manslaughter to protect you that made him even goddamn hotter. By the time you'd gotten back home, you were ready to drag him to the luxurious Californian King bed and beg him to have his way with you. You’d always had a very active sex life as a married couple, sure - but this past year it had gone to new levels when you were trying to get pregnant. It was so exciting to tease out new sides and interests in each other, even after so many years as a married couple.

And now that you were finally pregnant, you found yourself thinking about Max’s gorgeous smile, his big and strong shoulders that led to swollen biceps, his broad chest and thick, muscular thighs that you loved to sit on. You had all the usual food cravings in your pregnancy that your husband would be up at odd hours to go get - including a 2 hour drive to a neighbouring Italian town for a tub of strawberry gelato you insisted you needed that very same night. But the strongest craving by far was your desire to have Max on top of you, inside you, fucking you during the warm, lazy afternoon and then again in the cool night and then repeating it all in the morning with sleepy sex to start the day off. And you were sure Max would have no reservations about fulfilling this particular craving of yours - after all, your husband normally went feral at invitations to have sex, with your coy suggestions and sultry eyes and teasing smiles.

So it had been very unexpected that for the last month or so, Max had stopped having sex with you completely. You’re not sure when you first noticed it, because he did a great job of distracting you at first - initially redirecting you to some other interesting activity when you’d flutter your lashes up at him. And when that failed, he wouldn’t hesitate to make you quickly reach bliss with his gentle, experienced large fingers or his skilled tongue playing with your soaked pussy. He knew just how to tease you for long enough that when you finally went over the edge, you would happily fall asleep cuddled against his warm figure, completely satisfied. His strong embrace would hold you protectively against him, running circles along your swollen stomach as he watched over you as you fell into deep sleep.

But as the desperate need to properly get railed by your husband grew as more days passed, you knew you had to do something about it - or risk going crazy from the intensity of your horny pregnancy cravings. You hadn’t realised how much he’d been redirecting your attempts until today, when you came home from the race. Max still looked furious, scowling about how those reporters needed to learn some goddamn respect in an annoyed tone. Meanwhile, you had moved onto plotting far more pleasurable activities - starting with smiling sweetly up at you husband as you took a seat next to him on the sofa. He sighed, tension easing from your comforting touch, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he wrapped a muscled arm around you.

He was still yapping about some media circus or other when you’d teasingly moved your hand over his bulge, playfully squeezing and seeing if your desires would finally be satisfied by something very thick and hard of his. Max stilled at your ministrations, relaxed body tensing again, gently burying his face into your curls as he took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. Giggling as you felt his cock respond to your touch within seconds, you took that as an invitation to slide a small h down the front of his jeans. You knew your husband must be as pent up with sexual frustration at you, and you couldn’t wait to return his favours. As you tuck your dark curls behind your ears in anticipation, bending at the waist towards his lap, you're rudely interrupted by your now rather large tummy in the way. You instinctively winced at the uncomfortable stretch across your bump, which was getting larger each week and catching you off guard in inconvenient times like this. Pouting in annoyance, you swayed your hips back to accomodate the swell of your waist. Then you lowered your head to Max's impressive semi erection, parting your eager lips widely, pink tongue darting out-

When Max had placed a gentle hand over yours and pulled you away from his pants, gently but easily manhandling you upright. You blinked, confused, as he kissed you sweetly instead, cutting off your questioning mumbles with a swipe of his tongue to make you moan. You'd gotten lost in his kisses for a few seconds when he’d got a phone call from his lawyer. His eyes lit up, and he gave you a final, chaste kiss before taking it with a sorry, schatje, why don’t you rest for a bit? You watched him, flabbergasted, as he stood up to go over to the kitchen and animatedly discuss filing a restraining order against SkySports. Why on Earth did your husband seem more interested in fighting some standard, run of the mill paparazzi rats than getting his dick sucked? Your doe eyes narrow in suspicion as you eyed his oblivious figure. This was extremely unusual, as normally Max would be tripping out of his pants in excitement if you offered your mouth up to him. His recent avoidant behaviour finally all came together then - and you realised that for the first time in your marriage, Max didn’t seem interested in having sex with you. It was the longest dry period you two had ever had.

You couldn’t stop the swirling anger, hurt, and now very pressing sexual frustration at your husband’s behaviour. You’d already started to hate the body dysmorphia the pregnancy was giving you, with the extra weight you’d gained and the chubbiness around your stomach and hips and ass all accentuating your already curvy figure. You could always rely on your husband to make you feel desirable, though, with the way he fucked you like it was his dying wish on Earth.

But not anymore, apparently, you think dejectedly, as you tune out Max’s misguided apology about his Monaco Grand Prix debacle. You interrupt him, unable to bear the tension any longer. Max, liefje, you begin, voice soft as your earlier pettiness dissolved to give way to vulnerability. I'm not mad about how you defended me today. Your husband looks at you intently with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, patiently waiting for you to go on. You take his large, warm palm into your smaller one, and slowly run your fingers over his skin, calloused from years of professional racing. You're suddenly feeling shy with how focused he is on you, but your pent up feelings can't go on like this. I - I was more, well, I thought it was really hot how you pushed everyone off me, you confessed, still looking down at your intertwined hands. And then when you looked so mad when you yelled at them - you bite your lip at the memory. When you finally meet your husband's eyes again, you find a cocky gleam in his eyes as he noted the way you pressed your thighs together.

Oh, schat, did you get all wet and bothered at seeing me protect you? Max's voice deepened as he teased you with a knowing smirk. You swallow, nodding at his dirty question, your earlier defiance completely gone as you look at him almost pleadingly with desire in your doe eyes. He pulls your smaller frame into his broad chest with a tug from his strong arm around your waist. And as you find yourself on his lap you're breathily telling him how much you want him, need him-

He hmmms approvingly as he gives you a deep kiss, saying he was sorry the two of you'd gotten interrupted earlier, he was very happy to continue where he’d left off. Purring into your ear and making you gasp, he asks you if you wanted his fingers or his tongue first?

You desperately tell him you only wanted one thing - No, no foreplay, I’m so wet already, ju- just need you, Maxie, you ask brazenly as you run your manicured hand down his toned front and just over the waistband to his sweats. And to make sure he’s absolutely certain about what you were asking for, you boldly tell him you wanted his cock, inside you, right now!

Max flushes at your heated demand and it sends a flutter through your aching core. You love being able to catch him off guard! But just when you think you’re finally getting what you want, he slows his wandering hands down and gently murmurs that he’ll make you cum on his thigh first then, schat-

And there it is again - the cold sting of rejection from your husband as he once again hesitates to properly fuck you. Why do you keep doing that? you ask directly, trying to keep your voice steady but your hurt tone still comes through when your lips tremble. You knew how this would go - he would just overstimulate the hell out of you with his thigh and make you cum more than once, exhausting you before you could even get to feel him buried inside you the way you needed him the most. It’s what he’s been doing this entire month.

Max blinks at your abrupt mood change, his expression surprisingly too difficult to read despite the years of marriage you share. Scatje, he says soothingly, trying to reassure you, that’s not it, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable-

You glare at him now. You do know him well enough to pick up on when he was lying to you - he’s always been horrible at that, after all. You cut him off by suddenly standing up and stalking off to your shared bedroom, saying that you were going to bed and didn't want to be disturbed. It’s a bit dramatic of you, sure, but you can always blame it on the pregnancy hormones - your new favourite excuse. You almost slam the door when your husband calls out that you had barely eaten dinner, his deep voice laced with concern.

Puffing your cheeks as you reply you'd eat later, you slowly close the door instead, feeling guilty that Max was so caring towards you even when you were being dramatic about not getting laid. Changing into a comfortable satin nightdress, you end up sinking into the plush bed, suddenly tired from the overthinking and sexual frustration that's been building up within you. Maybe you’re being unfair on Max, you think sleepily. Maybe he was just caught up in his own worries and anxieties and that’s why he couldn’t focus on anything else - like your normally positively sinful sex life.

After all, he had good reason to worry - because despite your excitement at finally being on the same page about the next stage of your marriage, actually getting pregnant had been far from easy. Of course, you hadn't expected it to happen straight away, knowing it would take a couple of months at least. Your medical textbooks stated the average couple took around 6 months, even! If anything, you and Max were glad for the time you had to thoroughly fuck each other, long and hard. Every fleeting touch, stolen gaze over a dinner with friends would result in you both practically ripping the clothes of each other and rolling around in the Egyptian cotton sheets. Soon you barely even made it to the bedroom - with him taking you in the entry corridor of your home, obscene noises filling the air as his hips unwaveringly pounding into your dripping cunny and you desperately moan his name from where he had you pinned against the wall. It was thrilling, this new rush and desire for all your lovemaking to result in an actual baby.

You'd unlocked a breeding kink of Max's that he hadn't truly realised the extent of - until he saw you cooing at his baby niece who was being rocked in her Uncle Max's arms. Looking down at the scene of his pretty wife smiling at a child who looked just like Max made the Dutch Lion unable to resist the temptation of having you right there. He'd handed his niece back to his sister and attempted to appear subtle as he all but hauled you off upstairs from the rest of the family barbecue. You'd been confused but as soon as he led you into a small office, locking the door behind him, you recognise the dark gaze he hungrily eyes you with. Even you'd lost your normally sensibilities when your husband acted like this, and you willingly spread your soft thighs for him to bury his raw, aching cock into. He fucked you on the wooden desk, a large palm clamped over your drooling lips to keep you quiet. You must have cum at least twice from the way he murmured darkly how good you were going to look pregnant with my child, that's right, gonna be a good vrouw for me and take all my cum, yeah?

So 6 months practically flew by, the two of you thoroughly enjoying yourselves. But when it hit 7 months, and suddenly you couldn't help but notice how all your friends and cousin sisters and in laws seemed to be getting knocked up. It seemed everyone you knew had become pregnant at the drop of the hat - your childhood best friend, your favourite coworker - and even your neighbour's cat, after her and your household cat Jimmy had a rather scandalous affair themselves. Although you'd try to fight it, you couldn't stop the sinking feeling of guilt, of feeling like you weren't good enough for Max, for your future family. It chipped away at your confidence everytime you would tell Max that you were on your period, like clockwork on the same day each month. And your husband remained as considerate as ever, tactfully not asking if you were late this month unless you brought it up yourself - even though he knew your cycle like his own steering wheel by now. You felt too overwhelmed to talk about how much of a failure you felt to Max, who had remained the perfect, devoted husband.

But you hadn't been able to hold it together by 8 months, because this was when your period was finally late. You kept holding your breath, waiting for it to come the next day or the day after - but it never did. And two whole weeks past, and for the first time you let a bubble of hope rise in your chest. Max kept looking at you curiously, noting how you seemed a little happier for this time of the month than usual, but waited for you to come to him yourself. And you almost had that weekend where you were attending yet another friend's gender reveal party, and had seen Max bend down on a knee to sign something for one of the excited kids who spotted the ex Redbull champion. You'd been unable to resist grinning at the sight of multiple toddlers swarming the 6 foot Blonde who handled them rather impressively. He's going to make sure a good father someday, your friend giggled to you by your side. You hmmed in agreement, finally feeling excited about the possibility of you two becoming parents for the first time in weeks.

So that evening, when Max had gone out to meet some of his mates, you committed fully to the bubble of hope and brought a pregnancy test. But after those five minutes were up, your world came crashing down again as the lines read negative out to you. You're not sure how long you ended up sitting on the cold bathroom marble, staring blankly at the stick, your mind running a million miles a minute as you anxiously overthink, But it must have been quite a while, because you're only distracted when you hear Max's knock on the bathroom door, and his worried voice saying Schatje? I'm coming in, you aren't replying-

And as soon as your husband walked in, his soft, blue eyes taking in the heartbroken expression on your face and the pregnancy test at your feet, you couldn't hold it together anymore. Max's own heart broke at the sight of his wife bursting into tears, sobbing and confessing how much of a failure she was, how this is the only thing he wanted and she couldn't give it to him, how she was so sorry-

He'd gathered your shaking, petite form into his comforting embrace and ran soothing motions all up your back as he murmured reassurances to you that it was okay, he was here and you two would get through it together like you always did. When you'd finally managed to stop sobbing, now just sniffling, he wiped the tears off your face as he firmly told you that none of this was your fault, and you had nothing to blame yourself for. It was all just a matter of time and luck, and at the end of the day he didn't care about what happened in the future - what truly mattered was that you were happy.

You'd nodded shakily, doe eyes rimmed with red as you let him carry you to bed. He held you extra tightly that night, until you'd fallen asleep in his arms after crying yourself to exhaustion. You had started feeling better by month 9, with some of the heavy expectation you'd put on your shoulders easing off now that you'd opened up to Max about how you'd felt. Your late period had already come and gone, but you didn't find yourself falling apart at it like last time. Taking it as a promising sign, your husband insisted that the two of you take a week off and relax of the Sicilian coast.

You finally felt like yourself for the first time in a while again, closing your eyes and enjoying the sun beating down on you, drying you off after the refresing swim you'd had in the turqoise waters. Max emerges onto the deck himself, shaking his hair and making you laugh as your dog Arlo does the same next to him. Truly, he was such a golden retriever, all tall, blonde and handsome. You couldn't help but feel your heart swell with gratefulness that you'd found the perfect husband to complete you. Grinning at the sound of his wife's genuine laughter, Max plops down next to you, resting his soft locks comfortably on your plush thighs as he snoozes.

And that evening, when you two made love, it felt different somehow. The months of high intensity, filthy and desperate sex had been fantastic, of course. But there was just something about the slow, sensual pace of Max's lips moving their way down your bare waist, his intense blue eyes watching you closely as he buried his head in between your thighs, right there on the yacht deck. You moaned as your small hands entangle in his golden hair, and let yourself get lost in the dizzying waves of pleasure without any thought of needing to get pregnant.

You taste different, your husband murmurs suddenly, his husky Dutch accent sending shivers to your throbbing core. You flush at his words, comfortable enough with him to swat his head with your thigh, indignantly replying that No wife wanted to hear that from her husband when he's going down on her-Oh! Fuck!

Your protests are cut off abruptly as he gives your dripping pussy another teasing lick, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. I didn't say different is bad, he counters smugly, enjoying the sight of rendering you speechless with his tongue. You always taste good, schat, but right now - he presses that large, Dutch nose of his that you adore right into your dripping pussy - you taste even sweeter than normal...like honeydew.

Of course, Max had always enjoyed eating you out your whole relationship. But that week on the Sicilian coastline, he seemed even more entranced than usual, wanting to have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner, saying that you just tasted sweeter and sweeter each time. Not that you were complaining, of course - he definitely knew what he was doing when he deftly untied your bikini strings to bury his face in between your soft thighs. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that you'd realise just why you tasted so different to your husband. When a bout of vomiting that you'd returned back to Monaco with and thought to be a tummy bug from dodgy seafood didn't stop, you realised that you'd somehow missed your period that month, too. The vacation Max had planned for you had certainly gotten your mind off trying for a baby a little too well, it seemed - so much so that you’d stopped tracking your cycle.

So when your husband finds you on the bathroom floor for a second time, staring in shock at a pregnancy test in front of you, he immediately is at your side. He hugs you tightly again, making you secure in his embrace and stroking your curls as he tells you please don’t cry again, schatje, I can’t bear to see you like this, it’ll all be okay, we can try other options or always adopt-

You laugh, still in a state of disbelief, the noise muffled against his muscular chest. No, no, Max, I’m actually okay this time, you say as you pull away, smiling up at him. Oh, he says, blinking at you with worry, not looking convinced. Are you sure?

You nod, unable to control the ecstatic grin that appears on your lips. Yes, liefje. I’m positive. And then your husband sees the pregnancy test you hold up for him, the proof of your marriage’s perseverance over these past months as two lines. His jaw drops open, and you giggle at his expression. This is my third one today, it’s definitely real, Maxie. Finally processing the news, he laughs with delight, embracing you tightly again as happy tears filling his pretty ocean blue eyes as he tells you how excited he is.

So now, 5 months later and in the present, you suppose Max was still on edge with how fragile you’d been at the start of your pregnancy. But you’d been so stable and healthy throughout it, looking after yourself and of course having a very dedicated husband who watched your nutrition and daily gentle exercise like a hawk. There was no reason for him to still be concerned about your safety, you think sleepily as you sink against your soft pillows. Your mind drifts to sleep as your overthinking tires you out.

You wake up with a gasp sometime later, breathing heavily as you stare at the moonlit ceilingas the intense dream you’d been having replays again in your head. Hazy visions of strong hands holding you down as his wide cock fucked into you, a deep accented Dutch voice crooning in your ears that your sweet cunt treated him so well, it was just made to take him perfectly, hmm? You’re not sure how much time has passed, but it must only have been a couple hours when you turn the warm bedside lamp on and see your husband hasn’t come to bed yet. The stinging feeling of rejection fills you again, even though you knew Max was probably just relaxing with a video game out in the living room after the emotional rollercoaster you'd been hitting him with today.

But the pregnancy had definitely sent your insecurities into overdrive, and you’re starting to sniffle and you quickly try to muffle your sobs with a palm to your trembling lips. You can’t hide from your ever observant husband, though. A small line of light shines into the dim bedroom as Max cracks open the door, entering with a hopeful look and to ask if you were hungry yet.

At the sight of his teary, pregnant wife sitting up in bed, he’s at your side looking at you with concern. What’s wrong, scatje? He asks, an undertone of urgency in his usually calm voice. Are you hurt? In pain? Is the baby-

I’m fine, Max, we’re fine, you say through the tears, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. I'm sorry I've been acting so crazy all day. God, I’m so stupid, I don’t understand why I’m feeling like this when you’re being such a good husband-

Hearing your self deprecating words, he reassuringly you with a gentle kiss to your forehead, calming down your anxiously beating heart. Tell me what’s happening, schatje, he encourages earnestly, validating that your feelings weren’t silly to him. Although you’re still shaking slightly, your breathing starts to settle as your brown doe eyes look up into his intense blue gaze. I had a dream, Maxie, you breathe, focused on him completely as flashes of the erotic wet dream you’d had return. I had a dream, and you were in it, and- you bite your lip as desire pools in your core - and you were in me, and it felt so, so amazing, and I don’t get it, why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore?

Your husband’s eyes go wide in surprise at your question as you continue. Is it - you sniffle - is it because I’m too fat now? It is, isn’t it? You don’t find me pretty like this? Max is bewildered, not having guessed this was the reason why his wife had been feeling so upset today. He’s pulling you against his strong chest, rubbing soothing circles along your back to calm your jerky breathing down fully. Oh, my sweet vrouw, I’ve been ignoring where you needed me the most, hmm? His comforting, deep voice murmurs reassurances about how you were absolutely beautiful in the pregnancy, having already been the most gorgeous wife but now, you genuinely glowed. Remember the valet at dinner last week who walked straight into the revolving door when he saw you? Max jokes, making you giggle through your tears at the memory of the gawking young valet. Wiping your tears away with a gentle stroke of his thumb, his gorgeous blue eyes look at yours intently as he agrees that he’s been holding back lately. But given how quickly things in bed can get…a bit rough, Max says, cheeks adorably flushing and making you grin, he wanted to avoid anything that could hurt you and the baby. Especially because I don't think I can hold back once I start, because seeing you pregnant with my child has been driving me wild.

Your heart swells with love at your ever thoughtful husband. But his sweet intentions are not needed right now, and you tell him this as you wrap your arms across his broad shoulders. Maxie, you say warmly, your doe eyes blinking up at him with adoration, you know that having sex isn’t going to hurt the baby, right? Even when he didn’t believe your textbook, your literal gynaecologist said there’s no problem.

I know, I know, your husband says, his ocean blue eyes looking at you a bit helplessly. It’s just that I can’t bear the thought of hurting you in any way, the pregnancy was already hard for you at the start and I-

You cut his worried rant off by drifting your small hands across his swollen biceps, to his own large palms. Have you not found it hard to be apart like this, liefje? you ask him directly. Biting his lip rather sexily, your husband’s gaze lowers to where your juicy tits, already having grown larger as your pregnancy went on, bounced enticingly with every breath. You don’t miss a beat, guiding his warm palms from your waist to your delicate collarbones, where you help him slip your skimpy nightgown off your shoulders.

Max’s eyes go dark with desire, and you find a similar need throb in your pussy at seeing him like this. Finally, there your lion of a husband was, the one who acted like he would willingly go to war for one more night with you. You tell him, sounding breathless from how excited you are, about all the times you’d fantasized about him fucking you daily on the sofa, on the dinner table, even that time at dinner last week when he'd worn a fitted shirt and you’d considered begging him to have his way with you right there in the restaurant bathroom. Max groans from your heated confession, and you feel him rapidly hardening underneath you from where you’re sitting in his lap.

It’s been - he swallows, his hands now brushing towards your tempting chest to play with your swollen nipples - it’s been so fucking hard, schatje. You have no idea how sexy you look like this. God, I wanna fuck you so much that you end up pregnant again.

You laugh at his confession now, finally feeling at ease knowing he had been wanted you just as much as you had. You’ve been holding back on me, my dear husband, you tease, peppering his flushed cheeks with gentle kisses. You’ll make up for it tonight, please? Fuck me properly and make me cum around your cock? You finish your naughty demand with a playful grind of your damp panties against his now impressively hard erection.

Strong hands hold your thick hips securely to put an end to your games. You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband who’s looking more and more hungry by the second, and growls out that his sweet little wife was actually a desperate slut wasn’t she? You gasp excitedly at his dirty words, knowing you’d finally broken the last thread of self control holding him back. Max lifts you easily off his lap, pressing you back against him so his husky voice murmured right into your ear from behind. I forgot how addicted you are to being fucked by my cock. Been dreaming about it for weeks, like a good girl, hmm? You nod furiously, whining out yes, yes, please Maxie’s as your head spins in dizzying pleasure. The swell of your chubby ass rubs against his cockhead as Max easily yanks your lace panties off, joining his hastily abandoned sweatpants on the floor.

Rough hands palm your soft thighs, growling lowly that your ass had been getting so fat lately, it drove him mad everytime you bent over in your flowy minidresses. When you can’t resist grinding back on him invitingly again, he gives you a few gentle smacks and you yelp excitedly. Been wanting to hit it from the back so fucking bad, your husband breathes, as his hand doesn’t leave your ass after his third slap, instead grabbing the bouncing flesh firmly with his large, strong palm. M-Max! you’re so turned on at his dirty confession. You two barely need any foreplay, having already been on a frustrated edge for the whole month, and Max’s large cock easily starts slipping into your dripping hole. You’re comfortably laid out on your side, his toned chest pressing into your back and your combined moans mix as he sinks home into your welcoming cunny.

The position lets him easily thrust half his impressive length into you, controlling the slow pace so you only feel blinding pleasure without a hint of any uncomfortable stretch. I’m not gonna last, Maxie, it feels so good- Ah! Your desperate whimpers are cut off as his hands move to play with your lush, bouncing chest, the pregnancy having enhanced your curves. And these tits, schatje, they’re so pretty for me. You’ll be a good girl and let me fuck them, won’t you?

Your pink lips are parted as you pant in pleasure from his skilled fingers toying with your over sensitive nipples. Yes, Maxie, whatever you want, you whine desperately. You can even cum on them, okay? This time you’re the one making him moan with your words and his hips stutter as he pictures his creamy release dripping all over your large breasts.

He makes you cum then, when he slowly sinks a deep thrust in fully, letting you feel the wide stretch of his cock, making you gasp and throw your head back against his shoulder. Your breathless, high pitched whines are captured by his mouth as he moves his tongue languidly against yours, murmuring how good you did for him, the most perfect vrouw he could have asked for as he talks you through your mind numbing orgasm. He barely lasts a few seconds after you, letting out a Oh fuck! Gonna cum, schat- as your tight, warm pussy clenches around his raging erection and milking him for every last drop.

Heavy, content breathing fills the room as you both come down from your highs together. Your small hands intertwine with his as you smile tiredly at him, where he rests his flushed face against the swell of your chest. Did I satisfy your craving, schatje? Max says with a teasing smile, still breathless. You run your fingers affectionately through his damp, tousled hair. Not even close, baby you say, equally breathless. You know how strong my pregnancy cravings are.

Your husband laughs, the warm sound making you giggle as well. Challenge accepted, schat. Be careful what you wish for.

_____________________________________________

A/N: dedicated gentle husband max who switches up when you rile him up drives me FERALLLLLL hope it does for you too <3 Sooo many of you requested this im so glad you liked part 1!! thoughts on part 3 with soft dad max?? (Im writing this anyway regardless of what yall say ahahaha) 🫶🫶

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x oc

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weird-addiction · 8 months ago

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“You’re all Demons. I rule you all.”

Summary: The Archons are not the most powerful, nor is Celestia.

Pairing: Genshin Archons x Male!Reader

Warnings: Slight SAGAU creator themes, manipulative reader, unhealthy power dynamics, controlling reader, Furnia slander

The creator is not one to be looked down upon. Yet, over the thousands of years, everyone and even the archons have forgotten them. No shrines, offerings or worshippers have been founded.

Well, they should know that the creator does not take lightly to what they have done. They have eyes everywhere, and knows everything that is going on.

“Pathetic pathetic pathetic! Such a bore!”, they said. His voice ran through the ears of the archons and the heavens themselves. “I give them stories, backgrounds, and such titles to use for a better Teyvat. And yet, they are so boring to not even use them! Ugh! Execution would have been better!”

His insults came one after the other, and the gods heard them all. “This throne is not for them. It is mine and mine alone.” Every word was heard the archons, well, almost every word. The creator chose what they can and can’t hear.

“Perhaps I should pay them a visit.”

And that is how they came to Mondstadt. Home of freedom and wine, ‘ruled’ by the Barbatos. But when he stepped into the city, he could tell the god has been slacking off. No rules, no disciplines, and no official government. Just a military force that can be called a military force.

He went to the acting Grandmaster Jean, who was stunned to see such a being. “Tell me, where is Barbatos. I wish to speak with him.”

“Y-you mean Venti? He’s probably at the Angel’s Share.”

To the tavern he went and indeed the bard sat, almost drunk out of his mind as he round after round.

“Venti is it?” The stern voice came. The bard was quickly shocked to his core to the same voice. “Mind if we have a word?”

Outside behind the tavern, Venti was on his knees. Practically begging for forgiveness. “Please! I’m sorry! I promise to-”

“To what? I barely see any shrines of me. Why should they worship you when you have abandoned your responsibilities? Should I send you back to the hells with you?” His voice stood with no room for negotiations or retaliations.

“No! Please! I’ll do better!” The bard begged. Tears were threatening to spill.

“Don’t forget from where you came from. You can change forms, you can’t change your eyes.” With a snap of his fingers, Venti’s eyes begin to burn. Black surrounded his pupils as he shut them in agony.

“That’s better. Your true colors are better.”

Venti bowed his head as he could do nothing but except the truths. The truth of his own freedom has been revealed for all to see.

“I have others to see to. Perhaps I should take a round trip to see all of them. See you my dear Zephyr.”

His next stop was Liyue, what a great city built on the coast. He had heard that their god was dead.

“What a load of bullshit. Trying to escape responsibilities to? Too fucking bad.”

Up on a mountain is where he found the retired geo archon. Or rather, Morax.

“Nice view no? Now I know why you liked building mountains so much.” Zhongli turned around to see the unfamiliar, his face said it all.

“Who are you? How do you know my identity?”

“Aw. Little pup. Looks like your leash needs a tightening.” He made a gesture which was pulling an invisible chain, which made Zhongli fall towards him.

“You…it’s you. Why are you here?” The archon’s eyes widen to the realization.

“I’m disappointed in you. No shrines, no worship, nothing in my name. Do I need to send you back to the hells? I would be glad to do so. The others are always asking ‘Where’s Morax?’ ‘Oh I wish I can play with Morax again. Where is he?’ Do you remember?”

A wide smile took his face as he saw the other’s face drop. He did indeed remember.

Zhongli fell to his knees remembering the years of torment. In his youth, he didn’t listen. “Please. Don’t. I beg of you.”

He tched. “Oh Morax. Don’t beg. It’s not a good look on you. I suppose you are retired after all, but you do have quite the influence no? Why not put that to use? Remember the contract you signed with me?”

Of course he remembers. It was the first contract he ever made. But he was one who signed it. To this day, the contract was kept under lock and key. “Yes…” Was all he said.

“Good. You can hide your identity, but you can’t hide your chains.” A snap of his fingers, shackles appeared on the archon’s wrists and ankles. Heavy like lead they were. Binding him down to earth, to his contract.

“Reminds me of old days! What joy! Say hi to the adepti for me! I’m sure they missed me oh so much!”

He then disappeared and left Zhongli there with chains for all to see. Bound to unspoken of words.

Inazuma was a nation he kept hearing bad things about. What had the archon done to be hated so much? At least the borders were open now, seems that forever can’t be forever.

“Oh Ei. The eternity you wanted was the gluttony of control you wished you had right?”

Locked away in her palace, in the heart of the city, Ei sat with her eyes closed.

“Beezlebub. How nice it is to see you again? Did you miss me?”

Ei was startled and her hand went to her polearm, ready to attack where the voice came from. “How did you come in here? Who let you in?”

“After all these years, you are still the same. Eternity truly doesn’t change you does it? Your gluttony will never be satisfied will it? What would your sister say?” The words came flowing out one after the other, he did not even have to think as he spoke. He knew exactly what to say.

“You-!” Ei pounced forward, the tip of her weapon stopping at his throat. One wrong move and he would be harmed, but he knew she wouldn’t, her arm was shaking after all.

“You close your borders, take the people’s visions. Were you so afraid of change that you wanted an illusion control that you never had. Pathetic.” Ei begin to tremble as she heard such words, but there was nothing she can do. He was her superior after all, this would be a death sentence if she tried to fight him.

“No worshippers of me, no shrines, not even a fucking thank you to me for giving you these islands.” A laugh left his lips as he thought of it.

“You can hide away in your plain, but you can’t hide from the true reality outside your door.” A snap of his fingers, Makoto’s body dropped in front of her. Her eternity in the open for all to see.

A smirk overtook his features. “Remember, she’s in my hands. You are more than welcome to join her, but…I don’t think I will. Your eternity will be spent in the same gluttony of control, until you are swallowed whole.”

The archon fell to her knees, just like all the others. “Please. Wait..I’m sorry..”

“Aw. Don’t beg. You all look so pathetic while doing it. I made you all better than this. But here you all are, no backbone to be seen. Which, I can see why.” Makoto’s body disappeared as Ei was starting to shed tears.

Moving to crouch down to her level, his lips next to her ear. “Once you die, you will be in the same eternity you wanted. You will know what it is like to be forever unchanging.”

Getting back to the mainland across an entire ocean was not fun. Even when he was stepping through the air, it still took a long time. Next nation was Sumeru. Nahida was the one archon he liked, she always knew what was going on.

Not to mention, she was a victim herself. But the real reason was that she had kept the shrines the former archon had built in his name, and the people still worshipped him to this day.

“I have expected you.” Came the small voice, her back was turned as she showed no hostility or fear to the one that walked towards her.

“Buer.” However, his respect her Nahida only went so far. Her chains were just a bit less…drastic.

“Seems like your people have finally changed their minds. Still chained to the evermore knowledge I see.” He stated, a laugh was held back.

"It is something I have much time for. I do not mind if the chains are the ones that I like." Nahida responsed.

"Then I wish you good luck. You are only 500 years old after all, you have all the time in Teyvat for this." Waving over his shoulder as he left the sanctum which the younger archon stayed in.

The next nation is one he has known to hate, or rather, hate the heavenly principles for. For as long as he had seen, the dragons and vishaps were the natives that they had decided to usurp for power. And Fountaine was one of these, 500 years of a fake god and authority taking the throne. While the true ruler was cast aside.

He sat one foot into the Nation and he already hears the annoying voice of the 'archon', really wish she could really shut up already. "Oh! So you are here after all! Welcome! I, welcome you to my beautiful nation!"

He did not say anything, but rather he stared up at her and gave her a glare; even from that distance she could see it and knew he was not here for a friendly visit. "I will see you in your office Furina."

When he got there, he was greeted with someone else. The Hydro Dragon, the rightful ruler of these lands. "Neuvillette."

"Your Grace." He bowed, still addressing him the same way just all the those years ago. And most likely, the only one left that still does so. Furina then came into the office, a look of fear in her eyes.

"Furina, how...unpleasant to see you." Hearing the words, she looked more dejected than she already did.

"Please. If you're going to say it then just say it."

"Fine." He sat down on one of the fancy armchairs that sat around the room.

"Just because you are forced to play a role for 500 years does not mean you get sympathy from me, should have thought of that before your archon usurped him." Making a hand gesture towards Neuvillette.

"You're sad that you had to play a role you did not want against your will? You know what we call that? The real world. Wake the fuck up if you think the world owes you anything just because of that. Have you even taken a look around you at the people for this many years? Their lives are filled with doing things they don't want, and it's a different thing every time. You do one same thing and you think can get sympathy? Maybe from Neuvillette sure, but not me. And when you finally die and fade out from this world and nobody remembers you, you will appear in my halls begging for my attention. I will not spare a single thing for you." A stone cold expression sat on his features.

The room was tense, Furina was on the verge of tears. Neuvillette held a worried face as he wanted to comfort her, but from one hand gesture from his creator, he stayed his feet and did not move.

"An arch duke of hell? Please. You can barely get out of heaven. You want to fall into infernal blaze so bad that you need to fool a crime to get casted out? Pathetic." He spat.

He stood up and walked out the door, Neuvillette followed after him.

"What is it?" His tone was eager as he had somewhere else to be.

"Your Grace, please rethink of it. Lady Furina is in pain, after 500 years, she is bound to have some sort problems with it all." He pleaded.

"Aw~, bound to the chains of justice like she is. I did not create you this way."

"..." Neuvillette was at a lost for words.

"Fine. She can keep her role and not appear in my halls after her timely death, that's for her immortal side of things. But once she is one more mortal, she will still die, and I will know to give her a quick death." A smile took over, like he was saying this was the better action.

"W-what? How is that-"

"Unless you want her to die right now? I can make that happen."

"No, Your Grace."

"Good. She would make such a pretty corpse."

Silence took the space between the two of them, a sea of mist and fog was slowly putting distance between them.

"Everyone on this side of the world are demons. I rule you all."

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 1 year ago

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Ding dong, here’s the final chapter! I have an epilogue in mind so that may come later, but for now, Thanks so so much for the response to this series and Enjoy!

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

[talking] [talking passes]

Gai: You knew right away, didn’t you? Kka: Correct. I knew something was wrong when you weren’t trying to do situps or anything..... You little criminal, who smuggled that in for you? Gai: Naruto

Kks: How did you get him to do that? /I/ cant even get Naruto to do things. The tear tracks and shit eating grin are cute. Kinda wanna kiss you. Gai: Don’t let me be a hindrance to-

Gai: What are you giggling about? Kks: I just remembered

Kks: I get to hold over your head that I held mirai before you. Gai: You what?! Your first baby hold and I missed it? Get off of me Kks: So mean! Near death made you crabby. Gai: I won’t give into this Kks: You will, you always succumb. [gai sighs annoyed]

Gai: [Groans] When are they making you swear in as hokage? Kks: That’s not happening anymore thankfully. Gai: Huuuh?? Tenzou didn’t tell me that!

Gai: He said Lady Tsunade was retiring and you were the only choice. Naruto even tried to- Kks: Where do you think i’ve been all day? I convinced her to hold out until Naruto or whoever took over next. Gai: How did you smooth talk that one? Kks: I agreed to do her paperwork and cover for when she needs R&R. I also advised her to ditch the elders so she can actually run this shit show right. Gai: And they... took that well? The elders? Kks: No, not at all. Let’s just say I said some... things that made them backtrack on their decision.

Gai: YOu cant just say that and not tell me now!! I gotta know! Kks: Well... Homura: Absolutely not! Kks: If I am appointed, I’ll be replacing you regardless. Naruto certainly will. It’s inevitable. Koharu: Those kids don’t know how this village runs!

Kks:Those kids just won your war and this is how you speak of them. Or are “those kids“ only respectable to you when they’re eager to die at your beckon call and shut up. Elders: How dare- Watch your tongue! Kks: I won’t be someone who you can walk all over. Things will change. Just so my intentions are clear

Gai: What next?! Kks: That’s is really. Kinda tuned the rest out and passed out for 3 hours. Gai: Rival, I was so invested Kks: Sorry Gai: So you agreed to essentially split the work of a hokage but not publicly take the title? Kks: Mhm Gai: So cool! Apologies, I had just assumes since you were gonna accept last time Kks:[hums] Things changed. Konoha’s not on the brink of war, Tsunade’s still here. The village can breathe and rebuild now.

Kks: After a glimpse of the hassle and public attention the last time, I’m just... Not interested in any of that. I’ve never dreamed or desired to be the hokage. That was always something others wanted /for/ me. So I said no. I know you were happy for me so- Gai: Kakashi

Gai: I’m so very proud of you for expressing how you truly feel. You and tsunade will do amazing work supporting the next generation. Even If you chose to retire today, I’d still be just as proud of you. Also a selfish part of me if happy to have more time with you. [kks huffs]

Kks: I’m proud of you too, y’ know. All your hard work, you’re fucking incredible. Glad my dad made me talk to the cool kid in the green jumpsuit. 2nd coolest shinobi. Gai: Only took 25 years, but I’ve finally caught your eye! Kks: Yup, let’s move in together.

Gai: WHAT?1 Whu-! Kks: I’m fixing up dad’s old house with Tenzou. you should live there with me Gai: Why? Kks: Why are yo suspicious? I’m serious. Space, accessibility for you... I want you around more. Gai: Ok Kks: Ok? Gai: An exciting change is just what my youthful journey needs!! Kks: So yes?

Gai: I would love to share a home with you, Rival [kks giggling] What now?

Kks: Did I just make you succumb, Gai-kun? Gai: When can we have a match next, I need to consensually slap you in the head [kks laughs] Why did you say it like that? Kks: I’m sorry! Your pout looks so cute.... You are still moving in with me, right? That wasnt a joke.

Gai: I’m gonna let you sweat on that one awhile... [whimpers]

Kks: Love you so much, Gai

[gai snoring]

#KakaGai #gaikaka #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #might guy #naruto #tsunade senju #shizune #//teeth #my art

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thelov3lybookworm · 2 months ago

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Fuck Fate, I Want To Live

Summary: She is tired of letting the mother decide for her. he wants to take the reins in his own hands.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2798

A/n: based on this request that was sent like a year ago 😭 i am SO sorry it took me so long to get to it omg i did not even realise 😭

anyways, enjoy!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The restaurant was packed, which was not a surprise considering it was dinner time, and adding onto the fact that the place Y/n worked at was right in the middle of the rainbow.

It was packed, just like it had been that fateful night, when Y/n’s eyes had met hazel ones, and her chest felt fuller than it had ever felt before.

She had been serving another patron, but the snapping of the bond had distracted her so much that she’d had to retire early that night, which she was glad for because she had bumped into the tall, red haired and charming emissary of the night court.

Y/n reared back, her body reeling from the impact against the hard body in front of her. "I am so sorry-"

"I should’ve been watching where I was going, I’m so sorry-"

Y/n paused, taking in a deep breath as she met the mismatched eyes of the male who stared back down at her, easily a head taller than her.

He smiled, shaking his head. "Forgive me, truly."

Y/n ducked her head, her cheeks warming as she tried to focus on anything other than the handsomeness of the male in front of her.

"Um…"

He stepped aside, his eyes wandering into the dimly lit restaurant behind Y/n, widening in shock. Y/n blinked, glancing to see what had him looking like that.

The table that her mate occupied.

"Your mate?"

The red haired male’s eyes swung to Y/n, who offered him a rueful smile.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged, turning away. "Just found mine."

She heard his sharp intake of breath as she stepped off the porch, the cool night air kissing her face in greeting. Gentle and welcoming after the stifling heat of the restaurant.

"He’s your mate?" He whispered, the words flowing out in barely a breath.

Y/n hummed, her eyes snagging on a little child crying in front of the brightly lit shop opposite, his mother trying to calm him down.

She turned away, smiling to herself as she began to wander down the path to her loft apartment, beginning to hum along to the tune of the music filling the air with a much needed warmth.

She thought the conversation with the male was over, but she was proved wrong when he fell in step with her. She looked at him in surprise, eyes wide. He stared back at her like she had lost her mind.

"How are you so calm?!"

Y/n shrugged, nonchalant.

She had plenty of experience with people leaving her, that’s how.

She did not even want to try with her mate.

After all, she did not think she had anything to offer that could entice him into leaving the pretty female he had been with, and hoping was only a harbinger of hurt.

Y/n had been rejected a lot before, so it would come as no surprise if her mate rejected her as well.

By her mother, when she left Y/n on her aunt’s doorstep when she was barely a month old. By her older brothers, who had been decades older and had the ability to take Y/n in, but chose to let her suffer in the care of their aunt. By her father, who had taken one look at a crying, lost, ten year old girl and turned away, letting her sit out in the harsh cold of the winter solstice until her aunt's dog had come to find her, sniffing and pressing his wet snout into her face.

By her aunt, who thought the way to raise children was by beating them until they lost all will to rebel.

But she didn't tell him all that. He didn’t need to know her sob story. She just shrugged, turning her head away to look at the reflective surface of the sidra.

They kept on walking, and it didn't seem like he had any plans to leave her alone anytime soon.

He walked her home that night, and once they reached her apartment, he offered her his name. She had smiled, shook his hand, then left him standing alone in the cold winter night.

Lucien Vanserra, son of autumn, emissary to the night court.

Her now best friend, Lucien.

As she now sat with him in the exact restaurant she had first met him at, her eyes wandered onto the table on the far side of the room.

She could not help but smile.

Azriel and Elain looked good together.

"Do you want your regular?"

Y/n blinked, turning to look at her friend in confusion.

His voice rumbled quietly in the air between them, barely audible over the soft but loud notes coming from the orchestra in the corner of the humid room.

"I know we are here to make sure the two of them have a fun outing, but that does not mean we have to starve."

Y/n gave him an unamused look while her stomach grumbled in answer, and she sighed, nodding. "The regular for me."

He straightened, flagging down a lower faerie with iridescent butterfly wings, who walked over with a smile.

"What would you like to order tonight, sir?"

Y/n tuned the two males out as Lucien placed the order, focusing unconsciously on the cool window pane next to her. Despite the warm atmosphere inside the tavern-like structure, the glass was cold to the touch, the weather outside overpowering the temperature inside.

Lost in the coldness against her fingertips as Y/n dragged them over the smooth surface, she didn’t realise that the two were alone again until he called her.

"Y/n?"

She blinked, turning back to him. "Hmm?"

He smiled, leaning forward, folding his arms on the table. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"

She flashed him a sweet smile, leaning forward, as if sharing a secret. "Murder."

He raised his scarred eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded solemnly. He didn’t speak again, letting the space between them fill with the quiet chatter from the surrounding tables. He did not speak a word, made no sound, as if afraid any noise he made would ruin the atmosphere.

It was unlike Lucien. He was not a male who would stay quiet, especially around his friends. So when he did not gift her with a snarky remark, she lifted her head to meet his eyes, confused and curious.

He just stared back at her, his lips almost frowning. Her brows tugged inward, her smile fading. "What?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "It’s just…" he brought up his palm, resting his head on it. "I don’t understand how you do it."

Blink. "Do what?"

"Be unbothered. How do you live with the knowledge that not only are our mates in love, we are helping them get together?"

The fluid that ran through her veins cooled as she leaned back, swallowing. "I don’t understand either, Lucien. Maybe I know he would never choose me. He would never love me. I-"

"He would."

She paused. "What?"

He leaned forward again. "He would. If he met you, he would love you."

She shook her head. "You don’t get it Lucien. He deserves so much better than me. And please don’t look at me like that, we’ve already talked about this, and in the end we just end up fighting. I’d rather not go through it all again."

"But if he just knew-"

"Exactly my point. He would not love me for me. He would love me because of the bond, and I… I don’t want that. And he’s happy. That’s all that matters to me."

"And what about you-" Lucien let out a breath, turning away. "Nevermind."

Already tired, Y/n let herself focus on the grains in the wood table, tracing the lines with her nails.

Trying not to feel like she had somehow let Lucien down.

Again.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Not again.

She was again ten years old, staring up at her father with tears brimming in her eyes, shivering in the winter court snow.

She was again eleven years old, having run from her aunt’s house, having left her shoes at the threshold as she sprinted towards what felt like her last hope. Her brothers. They lived next to each other with their wives and children. They would surely take her in when they saw the bruises on her face, right?

Wrong.

They had all turned her away, either crying until her tears turned to icicles or letting her sit on the cooling cobblestones at sunset.

She wished she had refused Lucien’s offer of getting cake.

After Elain and Azriel had left the restaurant, smiling and blushing, Lucien had turned to Y/n, asking if she wanted to get dessert as a pat on the back for their hard work in helping their mates get closer.

Y/n, despite wanting nothing more than to go home and sob to sleep after seeing that flash of disappointment in Lucien’s eyes, had agreed, even if it was just for his sake.

And now as she waited for him to come back with their treats, seated in a cozy alcove with plush pillows supporting her back, she wished she had stopped herself.

Wished she had gone home, because then she wouldn’t have had to look at Daniel and Jake. Her brothers, as they chugged beer with two other males directly opposite her.

And did not even realise.

"Mother, this smells divine."

Y/n blinked, pulled out of her reverie by the warm smell of the muffins hitting her like a slap in the face.

She offered Lucien a smile, hoping he did not pay too close of attention to how weak it probably looked.

He did.

A furrow appearing between his brows, he squeezed in next to her, concern dripping from his every word as he mumbled, "Is everything alright?"

Y/n glanced at the table they occupied, then hurriedly turned her gaze to the cake Lucien had set in front of her when she realised her oldest brother was staring at her. Probably wondering if he’d seen her somewhere, if the confusion on his face was anything to go by.

She grabbed the muffin, taking a huge bite of the warm, spongy sweet inside her mouth before turning to Lucien to give him a nod, smiling awkwardly.

He watched her silently, before nodding. "Something is wrong."

He looked towards the table ehr brothers occupied, then at her and back again.

It only took him a few moments to understand.

"Let’s go home."

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she forced herself to swallow the half eaten chunk in her mouth, coughing too loudly before she was able to speak. "But the cakes-"

He stood, ignoring her protests as he grabbed his muffin in one of his hands, pulling Y/n up with the other, and then dragging her towards the door.

He did not see Daniel standing up, nor did he see the way recognition lit up Jake’s face.

Daniel didn’t either as he was too busy walking closer to Y/n.

"Forgive me, but have we met before-"

Lucien stopped to glare at Daniel, who recoiled at the sheer hatred in Lucien’s eyes.

"My bad man, I-"

"Y/n?"

She froze, refusing to look at Jake. "Let’s go, Lucien."

He nodded, then pulled open the door, the chill air from outside a comfort compared to the suddenly stuffy interior of the shop.

Daniel did not speak, neither did Jake. But as Lucien pulled Y/n closer to winnow her away, knowing walking would lead her brothers to follow, Y/n caught a brief glance of the two.

The distraught sadness on their faces almost made Y/n want to forgive them

Almost.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lucien shoved a mug of warm tea in Y/n’s hands, startling her. She peered curiously at the beverage, then up at her friend.

"What?"

He sighed, then settled in next to her on the couch, turning his head away from the fireplace to look at her.

"Your brothers?"

She nodded. She had told him of her childhood. Even if she hadn’t wanted to live through the misery of repeating those events, she had told him that night in a drunken haze.

She did not regret it, but the way he now stared at her made her uneasy.

He said nothing, though, and only turned away from her to sip his cup of tea. Time dragged on, each moment merging together. All while Lucien quietly stole glances at her.

"You know," he hummed in answer, sparing her a glance. "Sometimes I want to run away."

She watched as he blinked, staring at her blankly. "Where?"

She shrugged delicately, pushing to her feet. "Somewhere far away. I don’t know, but I do know I want you to be with me when I leave."

There. She had said it. The thing that had been going around her mind for the past month, the thoughts that wouldn’t let her sleep at night.

Everytime she closed her eyes, she would see his smile. How his eyes twinkled, the skin around them crinkling every time he saw something funny.

Y/n was not in love. Not yet. But she was falling in love, and she knew she was doomed to love him, if not today, then tomorrow.

It was hard to not love him.

She had suppressed any and all budding feelings she had for him, trying to tell herself she did not notice the little tics about him. Told herself she did not notice the small line between his brows when he was busy cooking, the little giggles he would let out when drunk out of his mind.

She had forced herself to ignore it all, because she did not want to be in love with him.

Not because of him, of course. Only because she did not think he would love her back, but she did know that if there was anyone who would love her back, someone who she wanted to spend the rest of her life living with, it was Lucien.

She forced herself to stop thinking about it all, because she knew that if she didn’t, she would again end up with a broken heart.

Just an hour ago, when Y/n had come face to face with her brothers again, she had realised what she had been to blind to acknowledge before.

No matter what she did to protect herself, there would always be a way for her to get hurt. And living while trying to suppress her wishes was no way to live.

So what if he rejected her? They could still be friends. It would only end up helping her, because if he told her he did not want to spend his life with her, she could try to move on.

She was tired of letting everyone around her, even the mother, decide her fate. And she knew he wanted to take the reins of life back in his own hands.

She still remembered what Lucien had mumbled when he was wasted. It was another night after trying to get Elain to go out with Azriel, and at the end of the night, when Y/n had asked him what he was thinking about, he had leaned back, setting his glass aside, and sighed.

Fuck fate. I want to live.

She remembered how much those words had resonated with her then, and how much they resonated with her now.

"Hmm. Let’s go then."

Y/n paused at the bottom step of the stairs, turning halfway to look over her shoulder to Lucien.

He was standing now too, intently gazing at her with a tilt to his lips. "We wanted them to be together, now they are. I don’t see any reason to stay anymore. Besides, I think some time away from everything would help. We could even go to Vallahan. Or anywhere, really."

She grinned, then dipped her head in a nod.

"We’ll discuss the plan tomorrow."

He walked closer to her, picking up her cup from where it had been discarded, and smiled down at her.

She could not move as she watched him lean in, her eyes fluttering shut as he placed a kiss on her forehead, then her cheek. So close his breath lifted the strands of her hair that hung around her face.

His last kiss was placed at the corner of her lips, so slow and deliberate it could not have been anything but flirtatious.

Her eyes were wide when he pulled away, and he simply smirked, dropping into a dramatic bow as he mumbled the words that set fire to Y/n’s blood.

"Pardon my depravity, my lady. See you tomorrow."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs @tele86

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heli-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Between then and now

Part 1: The return

Pairing: Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Summary: When a whirlwind affair between you and All Might was found out by his manager, it was made sure that no one ever knew about you or your relationship with All Might. Even twenty years later, Toshinori Yagi still thinks of you. His retirement leaves him lonely in a cold city apartment and he wonders what could’ve been. Maybe it’s time to rekindle? But is that what you want?

Disclaimers: -

Note: I’ve been writing this piece since October 2022. So glad, it’s finally done!

Heli’s Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*

Twenty years ago, Japan.

You giggle when Toshinori pulls you into him. He’s only wearing sweatpants and his skin feels hot under yours.

“C’mon y/n, we still have a few minutes, right?” Toshinori whines.

“No, the driver will be here soon. You still have to get dressed and do your hair!” You run your hand through his messy hair.

“Well, and who’s fault is it that my hair is all a mess?” he grins.

“Besides the point.”, you shrug, “The actual point is that I am responsible for getting you to your event on time.”

He sighs. “All right, all right.”

Toshinori bends over to pick up his shirt from the ground. “Just so you know, Mr. Kanno can be really glad to have you. Without you, neither of us would have any overview about where I have to be when.” he smiles.

“Just don’t let him find out that half of the time you are late because of me.” you sheepishly reply.

*~*~* *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*

“Yagi-san, seriously! How could you possibly think this was a good idea at this crucial time of your career!”. Naoto Kannos voice boomed through the empty office.

“Kanno-san, you need to calm down. It’s not that bad. It’s not like y/n can’t be trusted.” Toshinori said slightly embarrassed.

“I would never tell anything to the press.” you said quietly.

“Y/n, this is not about whether you talk to the press or not. Eventually, they will find out. Are you even aware of what this could mean for All Might? For yourself?” Kanno massages his temple.

“Look,” Toshinori said, “We’re careful. And there is no reason why a hero cannot be in a relationship.”

“There are a thousand reasons why a hero shouldn’t be in a relationship, Yagi-san! You of all people should be aware of that.” Kanno states shaking his head.

Your heart beats loudly and leaves an aching pain in your chest. Toshinori presses your hand.

“I’m sorry you two. But you know this has to end.”

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*

After a night-long fight and seemingly endless discussions, it eventually did end. You went overseas to work for the American branch of All Might’s hero agency and he stayed behind to fight villains in Japan. When he and Kanno brought you to the airport, you didn’t know that things would get to be a lot worse in America than you anticipated standing at the boarding gate to fly into the unknown.

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*

The present day, Japan.

He knew the end of his career was coming. He knew for a good few years. He knew when he chose young Midoriya as his successor and he knew during his final fight with All for One. What he didn’t know then, was how much his life changed after his retirement. Sure, he still has his position at UA. He still has to train young Midoriya.

However, his days are significantly slower and quieter. Nothing could have prepared him for those empty nights in his empty apartment. He has no hobbies, no friends and no family to fill his time. He never had time or the head space to cultivate either of these things. And now all that waits for him at the end of the day is his cold apartment in a city that’s always bright. His home, however, isn’t that bright.

These days, he often finds himself thinking of you. It’s been such a long time. What were you up to? He knows you left his agency in America only a couple of months after you started there. He can’t begrudge you for that. After all, that’s what Kanno wanted for both of you: a clean cut. Where did you go after that? Did you find a fulfilling job? Did you meet someone special? Did you get married and have kids of your own? Are you happy?

He really hopes so. He really hopes that you are happy. The last time he saw you, you weren’t. You were holding back tears. Your broken heart is written all over your face. If things only were different back then, maybe you would be lying right next to him right now.

What a silly thought. He truly has become a pitiful old man. Sick and lonely. So far from what he used to be.

Laying in his bed, he stares at the dark ceiling. He turns over and grabs his phone. He opens social media and types in your name into the search bar. No results. He turns off his phone discouragedly. This was a stupid idea anyway.

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*

The present day, America.

“When do we have to be at the airport again, Mom?”

“Jesus, Takeo, you are an adult. How can you still rely on your mother to be punctual?” you sigh, dragging your suitcase down the stairs.

Your son walks around the corner and gives you a lopsided grin. “Hey, you have to be at the airport too, you know!”

Takeo takes your suitcase and lifts it above his head as if it weighs nothing.

You sigh. “Stop that. Put it down. I feel like I shouldn’t have signed up for this.”

“Hey, this was your decision. No one asked you to follow me overseas! I certainly can imagine something better than your mother following you around.” your son pouts while putting your suitcase close by the door.

“I am not following you around! I always wanted to return to Japan eventually. Just never had a good reason. And what better reason do I have than you?” you mumble embarrassed.

“It’s ok, mom. I didn’t mean it like that.” He nudges you. “We’ll be living in different cities anyway. Far enough apart, so I can my freshman year at university in peace.”

You give him a suspicious side-eye. “And how exactly do you plan to enjoy your first year? Studying I hope.”

You pull your jacket from a nearby chair and start to put it on. Your son is already halfway through the doof when you hear him say: “Geez, mom, let me live a little.”

You hear a car door open and close outside. Your heart does that thing again. When it pulls itself together leaving behind a small ache. You take a look around the almost empty house. It will be the last time you see it. The new owners are moving in next week and you will have left the country by then. It’s strange. You choose to leave this place so that you can return to your home country. And yet, it makes you feel awfully melancholic. There are so many memories connected to this place. Most of your adult life. Your son’s childhood.

“Are you ready?” your son asks behind you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” you say.

*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*

The weather is cold and rainy when you land in Tokyo. You get your son settled into his student accommodation. After that, you take the train to Musutafu. Your family lives in Musutafu. While you don’t have any contact with them anymore, the place holds a dear place in your heart. You always knew that that was the place where you wanted to grow old and find your final rest.

With All Might retiring, you finally felt safe enough to return home. Your new home is a small apartment on the third floor. You’re glad it came with furniture so that you had no heavy lifting to do. Your other belongings arrived a week ago. The landlord was kind enough to let the delivery crew put it in the apartment.

It’s almost midnight when you arrive at the place that will be your home from now on.

After opening the door, you turn on the light in the hallway. You close the door and walk into the living room. In the middle of the room, several boxes are stacked on top of each other. All my life in just a couple of boxes, you think.

You leave your suitcase standing behind you and open the box closest to you. Kitchen utensils. You open a few more boxes until you find what you’ve been looking for. You pull out a framed picture of your son and you on his first day of kindergarten. Carefully, you wipe over the picture. Then you put it on the windowsill at the right side of the room. Contently, you look at the mess that’s in your living room.

I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow, you think and you pull your suitcase behind you into the bedroom.

*~*~* *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*

It’s your first real day back in Japan. Before you tackle the unpacked boxes that are stacked in your apartment, you are in desperate need of breakfast and coffee. Although breakfast is relative since the long flight and time difference made you sleep well into the early afternoon. After a quick shower and some fresh clothes, you set out to find the nearest grocery shop.

Your apartment is in a different part of the city than you grew up in. It’s a safety measure really. You don’t want to run into family while out and about. It would be awkward for all parties involved. Still, you feel anxious when you set foot in front of your apartment. It feels as if you’re being watched. As if someone would jump at you around the next corner and yell: “Hey, aren’t you the one that got pregnant out of wedlock?”.

It’s silly, you know that. Most people in this city probably have forgotten you, those who don’t either won’t recognize you anymore or don’t want to recognize you anymore.

Nevertheless, this place brings back memories you’ve tried to forget for a long time.

*~*~* *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*

Twenty years ago, America.

“Pregnant? pregnant?”, your mother’s voice booms through the speaker of your phone. “Who’s pregnant?”, your bother asks in the background. “Yuto, get out of the kitchen. And tell your father he needs to come in here immediately”, your mother yells at him. She sounds shrill and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Y/n tell me that this is not true!”, your mother yells into the phone again. You massage your temples. This was going just as you thought it would. “Mom, it’s true. I’m pregnant.”, you tell her.

You can hear shuffling at the other end of the line. “Are you sure? Or are you just late? You know, the women in our family have very irregular cycles.”, your mother rambles. “Mom, I’m sure. I’ve been to the doctor already. They did blood work. I’m most definitely pregnant.”, you tell her.

You know that you’ve been pregnant for a couple of weeks already. When your period was late after a month in America, you did a test from the drugstore. When it came back positive, you went into panic mode. You ignored the problem for another week or two in hopes that it’s a false alarm and that your period eventually does start. When it didn’t, you had to face reality and make a doctor’s appointment.

Now the first trimester is almost over and you start showing. You put off telling your family for a while now but you can’t hide it forever.

“But y/n... how could this happen?”, your mother asks desperately. “Well, I’m sure you have an idea of how this can happen.”, you answer dryly. You can hear your mother take a sharp breath. Somewhere in the background, a door opens. “Give me a moment.”, your mother mumbles. For a few minutes, you hear quiet talking in the background. Someone slams something onto a table or another surface.

“Y/n, this is serious”. Your father must’ve picked up the phone. “How far along are you?”, he asks. “I’m in the 14th week.”, you tell him matter-of-factly. “That’s too late.”, you hear your mother say closely to the phone. She must be pressing her ear onto the other side of it.

You feel anger rising in your stomach. “Too late for what, mom?”, you challenge her. You know exactly what she means. “To get rid of it.”, your father says irritatedly. “I’m not going to get rid of my child.”, you tell him. You’re not surprised your parents would propose this. Nevertheless, it makes you angry.

“Alright, then when’s the wedding?”. Your father sounds calm but challenging as well. “There will be no wedding.”, you reply coldly. You hear your mother sob in the background. Your father grinds his teeth.

There’s more shuffling. Your mother must’ve ripped the phone out of your father’s grip. “But who, y/n? Who is the father? He must take responsibility for this!”, your mother asks. You can practically hear the tears in her voice. “There is no father.”, you tell her. “Of course, there is a father!”, your father booms. “Or are you Virgin Mary?”

You almost laugh at that. To be the Virgin Mary would be easier than the situation you’re in. Of course, there is a father but it’s not like cou can talk about him. “The father isn’t in the picture. He doesn’t want anything to do with this.”, you say. It hurts saying these words.

“Goddamit!”, your father swears. It makes you flinch. Your father never swears. He’s too sophisticated for that. Your mother wails in the background. “At least he could pay child support.”, he says. “I don’t need his money.”, you explain.

“Oh no, I think you will.”, your father says angrily, “Because we won’t be paying for your bastard child”. You feel tears pricking in your eyes. You don’t want their money. You make good money on your own. What you do want is their support.

“I knew it was a bad idea when you said you’d be going to America! I told you to quit when they transferred you there! You could’ve come work for me and your brother and you wouldn’t be in this situation!”, he scolds. “But no! It’s always been like this! We gave you everything! We paid for your education at one of the top universities in the country. With that degree, you could’ve worked for any company! You could’ve joined the family business and worked for your brother. But no, you chose to work for that All Might. Y/n, I knew that would be your downfall!”, he continues not giving you a chance to say something.

You grind your teeth and stop listening. What your father says is true. You could’ve gotten literally any job you wanted. If it weren’t for your degree, it would’ve been for the connections of your father. And of course, they wanted you to work for the family. Keep you close, keep you under their control. It makes you sick. The whole reason why you started working for All Might’s hero agency was to get some independence. Make your own decisions.

“... and now you got knocked up by some foreigner! What a disgrace! How are we supposed to explain this to our business partners? Do you comprehend what this means for the family?”, your father rambles.

Ah of course, what would it mean for the family? That’s the only thing that matters. Hot tears stream down your cheeks. You feel a big lump in your throat. One that you can’t swallow down.

“... you hear that, y/n? What do you think are we supposed to do now?”, your father yells into the phone.

“Nothing.”, you manage to reply, “You do nothing. You tell them your daughter took a job in America and decided to stay there.”

“Damn right, that's what you’ll do! You won’t set foot into our neighborhood with that brat of yours.”, your father bites back. Anger and determination start to settle in your stomach. It makes the lump in your throat melt away.

“Don’t worry, dad. I won’t. I will do as I said. I’ll stay here and I won’t return to Japan. There’s nothing and nobody left for me there anyway.”, you say and slam the phone down.

That’s the last time you ever spoke to your father. Your mother spoke to you a couple of times afterward. You’ve tried talking to her but she was unreasonable. After she gave up the idea of abortion, she tried talking you into adoption. Giving birth in America, giving the baby away and then returning home to Japan into the lap of the family. You refused. Despite everything, you loved that baby growing inside of you. Eventually, you stopped picking up the phone when she called. Your brother didn’t even try to talk to you. The reason for that you don’t know.

When your son was born, you sent them a card and a picture. In return, they sent you papers of disinheritance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

#mha #mha toshinori #yagi toshinori #all might #all might imagine #all might x reader #all might x you #all might x y/n #toshinori yagi x reader #bnha toshinori #toshinori yagi imagine #toshinori yagi x y/n #bnha #my hero acadamy #boku no hero academia

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boobo13cambridge · 1 year ago

Text

Send That Picture Promise I'm A Keep It | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Fluff, sexting, masturbation (m.)

Summary: What’s it like texting when your husband is a really busy athlete?

A/N: Hello, everyone! I’ve been trying to finish up all my old requests before I get to the new ones. I was actually supposed to post this May 5th, and its now June, oops. I’ve seen all your prompts for the new Kylian smut, and I love all your ideas. I’ll try my best to get them done because for once I have nothing to this summer except find a job, lmao. I swear having a job ready for when you graduate is not easy at all. Uni should’ve prepared us better for the post-grad life. Anyways, as always don’t forget to like, comment, and repost! Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Kylian: bébé

Kylian: bébééé

Kylian: bééébééé

Kylian: béééébéééééééééé

Kylian: Arrête de m’ignorer 😢 (stop ignoring me)

Kylian: jte veux (i want you)

Kylian: j besoins de toi (i need you)

Kylian: envoie t seins (send your tits)

The incessant buzzing of your phone that was conveniently located in your back pocket was proving to bea major distraction as you were trying your best to follow what your boss was trying to say. You knew who it was without even having to look, the culprit - a certain brown-eyed professional athlete who was called away on international duty.

While you wished you could be there to cheer him on as France played against Gibraltar in Faro, you were unfortunately tied up at work as you had to deal with an important client. As a divorce lawyer, you were constantly surprised to learn just how selfish and idiotic some people could be. You’d think a firefighter would be too busy trying to save people to have two mistress with three children each. Alas, humanity never failed to disappoint. To add fuel to the fire, this particular client absolutely refused to comprise on anything and insisted that he still loved his wife despite being a piece of shit.

Seeing all these cases, you were grateful that Kylian wasn't like that. To be honest, in the beginning of your relationship, you were very self-conscious as footballers were known to be cheaters. A few people (who were no longer in your life) warned you that your husband would inevitably turn out like most people in his profession and leave you for a model. Kylian, on the other hand, turned out to be nothing like that. He was consistently loving, truthful, and patient with you. The media's attempts to tear your relationship apart still pained you deeply, especially the heartbroken look in Kylian's eyes as you shouted at him, accusing him without even giving him a chance to explain.

But returning to the present, your boss finally released you from the conversation as her secretary reminded her that her husband was waiting on the line. Your boss, an intimidating woman whom you respected greatly, was the only one who hired you straight after graduation, despite most law firms turning you away. You suspected they viewed you as nothing more than a trophy wife destined to retire after having a few kids. Céleste Beauregard was the only one who gave you a chance, and for that you would be eternally grateful.

Walking back to your desk, you pull out your phone and look at the messages Kylian send you. Letting out a snort at his antics, you reply.

You: t’a pas un match à jouer toi? (don’t you have a match to play?)

Kylian: c koi le rapport bb?? (what’s the correlation baby??)

You: tu c ke chui au travail kyky (you know I’m at work kyky)

Kylian: allez bb juste une photo 🥺 (cmon baby its just one picture)

You: ds t rêve (in your dreams)

Kylian: fais pas ca (don’t do this)

Kylian: arrête de faire ta difficile (stop being so difficult)

You: t un gros pervert Mbappé 🤢 (you’re a big pervert Mbappé)

You: j d’autres choses à faire ds la vie ke de t’envoyer d pics de mes seins franchement (I have better things to do than send you pics of my tits seriously)

You: t’a pas déjà d pics? (don’t you already have some?)

Kylian: j’en veux d fresh svp (I need new ones pls)

You: tu m’énerve (you’re annoying)

In moments like these, you couldn't help but appreciate having a private office with tinted glass. Glancing around cautiously to ensure no one was present, you carefully unbuttoned your dress shirt, unveiling a seductive, lacy red push-up bra. With one hand, you delicately squeezed your breasts together, your cheeks flushed crimson as you quickly snap a picture and send it to him.

Buttoning your shirt, you feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as you nervously bit your lip, holding your breath as you observed the three blinking dots in your message thread. You couldn't help but giggle at doing something so risky at your workplace.

Kylian: putain bb chui bandé 🤤 (fuck bb i’m hard)

Kylian: si tt là ça serait parti en branlette espagnole 😏 (if you were here I would’ve fucked your tits)

You: t dégeulasse 🙄 (youre disgusting)

Kylian: tu m’aimes pareille ❤️ (you love me tho)

You: vrm pas (not really)

You: envoie moi t seins toi (you send me your tits)

Kylian: jpeux tenvoyer qq chose de mieux 😘 (i’ll send you something better)

Your heart raced with anticipation, a symphony of palpitations echoing in your chest, as you waited impatiently for your husband to send you a picture of himself.

As the picture popped up, you felt liquid heat pool in your panties as your breathing deepened looking at the nude Kylian had sent you.

The dim lights showed his hand wrapped firmly around his throbbing cock. Your gaze was fixated on the engorged head of his member, a vibrant hue of crimson, as a drop of precum bubbled on top. You could feel yourself throbbing as you feasted on the photo. Waves of pleasure surged through your core, causing your body to pulse with an insatiable hunger.

You: merde kyky ta pas le droit de m’envoyer sa quand tu c ke jpeux rien faire (shit kyky you can’t just send me this when you know i cant do anything about it)

Kylian: enjoy bb 😘

You: ??

You looked at his message confused, not really sure what he meant. A few minutes later, he sends you a video that ignited a blush so intense it flushed the very roots of your hair.

In the video, he moved with tantalizing slowness, his strong, veiny arms caressing his length with deliberate, seductive strokes. Each movement of his arm drove your senses ablaze. The air around you thickened with the sound of his sinful moans, weaving a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Your eyes were fixated on the mesmerizing sight, unable to tear themselves away from the erotic scene playing on your small screen. Your breath hitched as he swiped a bead of precum, his fingers glistening with the essence of his desire.

It was when a primal groan escaped his soft, pink lips with the sound of your name on the tip of his tongue that sent a blast of ecstasy through your body, electrifying every nerve ending with longing.

Unable to contain the building heat within you, you instinctively pressed your thighs together, seeking relief from the persistent throbbing that radiated from your slick core.

The video was two minutes long, and you were burning up so fast. As you continued to watch the captivating video, your senses became heightened, every nuance and detail etching itself into your memory. The sheer eroticism of the scene, the raw sensuality exuding from his every movement, unleashed a whirlwind of desire within you.

With every gasp and moan that escaped his lips, you felt the reverberations deep within your core. His sinful utterance of your name was like a symphony of passion, intertwining with the symphony of your racing heart.

As his fingers swept across his velvety skin, spreading the intoxicating precum, the ache between your thighs intensified. The throbbing in your core demanded attention, aching for release. The tension built, and with every second, you grew closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

It was almost a bittersweet torment, because as much as the video set aflame your desire for him, it also intensified the ache of longing for his physical presence. With a final, lingering stroke, the video came to an end, leaving you breathless and craving more.

You: t vrm cruel kyky (you’re so cruel kyky)

Kylian: 😘😘 mmmhhh jte vois samedi? (mmmhhh see you saturday?)

You: non, viens mtn 🥺 (no, come now)

You: jte veux trop (i need you too much)

Kylian: hahah, tu c ke jpp princesse (hahah you know i can't princess)

Kylian: mais jvai marquer un but pour toi bb (but i’ll score a goal for you bb)

You: t mieux ❤️ 🙄 (you better)

You: jtm booboo ❤️ (ily booboo)

Kylian: jtm fort mon coeur ❤️ (ily so much my heart)

You: tu veux que je t’amène qq chose bb? Je c ke tu vas rester à l'hôtel avant le match au stade (do you want me to bring you something bb? I know you’re staying at a hotel before game at the stadium?)

Kylian: ouii, t seins 🤤 (yess, your boobs)

You: ugh bye 🙄

Your playful exasperation was evident as you bid farewell to the teasing suggestion. The exchange left a lingering sense of anticipation and passion in the air, as you both were eagerly waiting to see each other again. The thought of being in his arms, of holding him and kissing him, made you long for him so bad. Looking at the time, you quickly packed your stuff and rushed home, excited to be with him.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe smut #kylian imagines #kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian x reader #footballer blurb #psg #footballer fanfiction #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x y/n #mbappe #footballer x reader #footballer imagine

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I’ve got a request that I’ve been thinking of for a while (but if you don’t vibe with it, that’s cool). I’m imagining something after the S1 Richmond vs Man City game, where Jamie goes to reader for comfort, both because his dad sucks (obviously) but also because like? Jamie’s football hero got badly injured and will probably never play again because he tackled Jamie? I just feel like Jamie would be upset and think Roy’s retirement is partially his fault.

😎

you don’t want to know me

It’s fucking late.

It’s fucking late and you’re still awake.

It’s always like this after a Man City game, and it’s been like this since they signed Jamie Tartt. You’ve been friends for ages, always running in the same circles. Your friendship of proximity has now turned into a real friendship, although you hadn’t seen him since he was loaned to Richmond.

You’d been at the game, because you never missed a match. Man City was your team ever since you moved to Manchester and you have to say, it was weird to see Jamie. You were proud of him for making the extra pass because it was different than how he had been playing, and a brilliant move to rely on his team. The only thing you didn’t like was thinking about why Jamie played selfishly. You just hope James Tartt, Sr. is far, far away from Manchester, from the match, and from Jamie.

You settle into your bed with the lights dimmed, ready for a long, sleepless night.

You’ve been staring at the plant on your dresser for so long that it’s starting to look distorted. You sigh and think about Jamie again. A branch taps your window and you groan. Fucking wind.

You roll over and it taps again with more insistence. It sounds like little rocks.

You remember you don’t have a tree outside your window and you bolt up. You flip off the lights and pull the curtains back to reveal Jamie Tartt throwing stones at the glass like you’re teenagers again. You turn the light back on and give him a one second motion.

You hurry downstairs, turning the light on in the living room as you go, and unlock your front door. Jamie stands in the porch light, so different from the last time you saw him. He says, “Can I come in?” so you move aside.

He’s just standing awkwardly in your kitchen, still in his Man City tracksuit. His hair is slicked down and you have the urge to run your fingers through it to muss it a little. Make him look how he used to.

“D’you- d’you want something to eat?” you ask and he’s a little taken aback. You wonder who’s been taking care of him, if anyone. He gives you a little half nod, and you wordlessly point to the couch. He sits there stiffly as you pull out a plate and some leftovers, and put them in the microwave. You silently hand the plate to Jamie and sit on the couch next to him.

He’s not in a talking mood and neither are you, necessarily, but you’re absolutely sure he hasn’t actually talked to anyone in ages. Georgie has stopped mentioning him so much so you figure he must not be calling her anymore. That’s why you bite the bullet and say, “It was your dad, wasn’t it?”

Jamie nods.

“And seeing Roy Kent injured, too, right?”

He nods again and puts down the fork.

“I mean, he’s a dick and all, and he fucking hates me, but his poster was on my wall. He was my hero. And I fucking- I fucking injured him. It was my fault. He was chasing me down and he tackled, and broke his fuckin’ knee. And then me dad-” Jamie can’t speak for a minute. “He was just there, and he said a bunch of shit and pushed me around. Felt like a kid again.”

It’s funny. This isn’t the first time Jamie’s showed up like this, but it’s the first time in his Premier League career. You wonder why he chose now.

You choose silence, taking the plate from him and setting it on the coffee table. You unzip his jacket and help him shrug it off, then give into the urge to mess up his hair. You move your hands slowly toward his head and he flinches the tiniest bit. His hair is crunchy and he needs a shower, but you think he needs human contact first.

There’s nothing you can say to make this better, so you choose to say something that won’t make it worse.

“Do you want to spend the night?”

Jamie looks up at you with that same surprised look, breaking your heart a little.

“You have to shower first,” you warn. “I just washed my sheets.”

Jamie nods.

“C’mon,” you say, standing up with his hand in yours. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

Jamie leaves his jacket on the couch as he follows you. You’d sell your soul for this boy, and you think maybe he knows it. You’ve been in love with him for the longest time and sometimes you could almost convince yourself he felt the same way.

You were really convincing in times like these.

“Alright. Here’s the shower, it should have everything you need. Extra towel’s right behind the door.”

You turn to leave, but Jamie tightens his grip on your hand.

“Stay,” he pleads. “I’m not tryin’ anything, I just hate showering alone. You can sit on the sink for all I care, I just can’t be fucking alone.”

You won’t refuse him. You nod and he slips behind the shower curtain, throwing his clothes over the top and onto the floor.

He’s not in there long and doesn’t say much, just asks you to throw a towel over.

You go to your room to give him some privacy and sit on the bed until Jamie appears in your doorway. He’s in his Man City track pants and no shirt, damp hair falling in his face.

You ask, “Do you want the left side?” and Jamie nods, so you move to get under the covers and pat the bed. Jamie slides under the sheets, smelling like lavender. You’d think you would both be stiff and awkward, but you’re not. You’re pulled to each other like magnets, like gravity. That’s why you wrap your arms around each other and thread your legs together.

“I love you,” Jamie murmurs.

“I know, Jaim,” you whisper.

“No. I mean it. Always meant to say something, but I figured we’d end up together eventually. All the times I showed up at your door, even as kids, I wanted to tell you. I was too fucking scared you didn’t feel the same way, but I don’t give a shit anymore. Life’s short. I need you to know.”

You brush a strand of hair out of his eyes. “You really think I’d let you in my bed if I didn’t love you?”

Jamie snuggles closer to you and you’re going to have a lot of things to talk about. For now, though, you’re going to get some fucking sleep.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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bu-blegh-ost · 1 year ago

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Let's analyze Captain Rose's final message (ep. 113 spoilers!!!)

I have transcribed the entire thing into my notes, and there are few parts that I believe give us some subtle hints to important lore bits. So let's take a look at these fragments, shall we?

"Even with the Emperor’s gracious accommodations, I can never feel at ease unless I’m sleeping on the sea. Tomorrow, we depart this beautiful country for one last ride."

Nothing that crazy here, but now we have a better grasp at the timeline. So this confirms, that the last place Black Rose Pirates have been to, before they departed for the final adventure led by Hendrix's map was Onowa Country, and judging by what comes next, the chest was also created and left there during that last stay.

"But…if you’re hearing this, it means we all died."

If you recall, Drey mentioned few episodes back, that thier final excursion was of little significance, barely worth remebering. But here Rose is, about to embark on it, his last adventure before he retires, and he believes that he's going to die. That they all are. Rose must have hidden the true importance of this adventure from the rest of his crew. He KNEW that it's very likely they are not coming back from it, he KNEW he is not actually retiring. So, the question is, did Rose truly meant to leave life at sea for his wife and children, or did he chose to retire cause he knew he was about to die and he needed an excuse, to tie all the loose ends before he goes without alarming anyone?

"Even so, freedom can look so different for the individual. Not every pirate’s gonna play fair. I’ve been prepping for this moment a long time. The day I’d be outmaneuvered."

Something happened to Rose before that. If you ask me, something must have been put on Rose. A spell? A deal perhaps? Something must have happened between Rose and Hendrix (I can't be sure it was him ofc, but I feel like it is pretty obvious at this point). The map he gave him was a final retirement gift. Whatever happened, Hendrix surely did or offered something that made Rose unable to refuse the last adventure. Rose was forced to open the Hole in the Sea. He was forced to attempt to free the Nameless Prince, and he knew, he is bringing his crew to possible death. He knew they may not make it out of the sea in time, before whatever he had to do takes effects, before the sea turns black. I don't believe he would do this if he could find another way. This line makes me feel like he was tricked, finally cornered by Hendrix. It would also make sense why Rose never listened to Finn's warnings when he told him abt Hendrix hiding his true arcane ability. It's possible he knew already. It's possible he was already chained by it.

"Now I fear, we’ll be remembered for something we didn’t do."

The hole in the sea. The one thing people always mention when Black Rose pirates are concerned. He was right. But it only proves, that Rose in this entire game was a tool. Just a person forced to do another's bidding, to be at the right place, at the right time. A sacrifice, but not a player. Niklaus told Chip it was Rose who opened the Hole in the Sea. And he was right, kinda. TECHNICALLY it was Rose. But he was not acting of his free will. He was forced to do it. And who made him? Well, probably the one person who knows that it was him.

"Anyways, I think I should have cared about how my friends would remember me. My family…"

A beautiful comparison between Chip and Rose. Rose sought fullfillment, legacy, Chip sought to recreate his childhood, but they both realised that what they always wanted in the end was family. Rose realized it too late, Chip did so on time. And he did manage to create a family he can feel content about, be proud of. Rose's story is a reminder for him, of how things could have ended.

"If my wife is still alive, tell her, tell our child, her child, I’m sorry."

Rose left Onowa knowing he will not retire. He knew he lied to his wife when he told her that he'll raise their child with her. Did he ever mean it? Did he know that he is doomed from the start, or was there a true intention of going back to her, before Hendrix came and his fate was sealed? Also, that makes me think that Reuben is not Rose's biological son. "OUR child" refers to the kid they had together, "HER child" might refer only to his wife's son, to Reuben. Still, he must have cared for him enough to decide that he also deserved apology.

"Thanks for coming to look for us. I knew you would.

Take care, Chip. "

I wonder if he actually knew. Could Hendrix promise him that Chip would be saved? He didn't seem to expect anyone else to make it, so it's possible that either Chip was supposed to play a special role in some way, or maybe he already did, or he was guaranteed to make it out alive regardless of the circumstances to make the journey he is on now. That could mean that Riptide Pirates were truly always destined to meet.

Okay, that will be most of my thoughts! Feel free to share yours!

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #chip jrwi #jrwi spoilers #captain rose #jrwi captain rose #analysis #ep 113 spoilers #spoilers

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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I’m so obsessed with if you need to be mean and while reading the most recent chapter I thought of a scenario: what if König checked the cameras and you were talking to someone, maybe even a guy, he didn’t know? Like you were in the yard and a neighbor came over to hang out or you ordered something and the driver and you talk for a while? I can only imagine how he would react 😭

Oh...well, one of the reasons Konig chose this house is because of the thought that the small village next to it won't bring him and his wifey a lot of troubles - he expected all of the neighbors to be retired old people, not some nasty young males with hots for his darling! Konig is against even talking to a delivery guy, he sees a man on your doorstep and immediately resorts to violence. As much as he can whole being on a mission anyway - he'd pester you with phone calls and messages about the random delivery dude who was hanging out with you a bit too long(literally just a minute longer than a normal conversation would be). It comes from his safety concerns too - he knows how perfect you are, the best woman in the world, and he knows that if his nasty old dog soul has noticed your beauty, it's only a matter of time before others would see it too. Even a friendly married neighbor or a random courier brought you pizza. Konig isn't really into classic porn, but he saw too many scenarios where a handsome man in a house of a lonely wife starts to behave way too friendly. You can expect a very stern conversation and loss of some privileges - Konig isn't above using his money over you, since you're depending on him. He says that he just wants to take care of you, that you don't know how dangerous the world can be! This is why you need a nanny(poor, poor Krueger)

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig

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beanmachine69 · 1 year ago

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Brothers' Beloved Bestfriend | Daniel Ricciardo (part iii)

part i

part ii

You chose not to wear the red dress, but that didn’t stop Daniel from stealing glances at you the whole night, sifting through guests any chance he could to talk to you before your brother swept him away. The guest list was more than you had anticipated, so when you retired to your room after everyone had left, you were uncertain whether you could keep your exhaustion at bay to stay awake and talk to Daniel. Obviously those thoughts and struggles were thrown out the window when you heard your bedroom door quietly open as he snuck in, closing the door behind himself and pausing at the entrance, watching you finish your skincare routine.

“Finally.” You replied, passing him a smile as he made his way to your bed.

“What, couldn’t wait any longer to see me again?” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes before joining him in bed, getting flashbacks to how it had felt the first night he was in your room. This felt like a strangely domesticated moment though, you’d shared several sweet moments with him over the course of the years you had known him, but this felt intimate, and domesticated. Crawling into bed and under the covers with him waiting for you on the side of the bed he knew you didn’t sleep on felt odd- not in a bad way, but more in a different and kind of adorable way.

Your crush on Daniel had started as the same old cliche crush; you liked your older brothers’ best friend, but it had grown into something much more in the past few years, and as confusing as it was, you were still glad you two were cuddling next to each other. He had always been the type of person to go through the effort of completely understanding and knowing the people around him; he was a comforting soul to many and though you’d always felt comfortable around him, this was different, it was far more intimate than you could have ever wished for. You’d of course be lying if you claimed you didn’t wish for this, that you didn’t think about it every time your hugs lingered a moment too long or every time he’d lean just a little too close. Daniel always felt like the man you would feel safe around, and now that he had his arms wrapped around you and your face buried in his chest, listening to his heart beat, you felt safer than you could have imagined.

The dreaded conversation wasn’t brought up for a while, initially you two talked about the event, the food, the people, the interactions and eventually you two managed to transgress into a completely different conversation about life and the struggles the two of you had faced as individuals- not once did the conversation feel forced and not once did it feel like he was trying to make a segway into the intended topic. It wasn’t till you looked up at him during an extended few minutes of silence, only to have him be looking back at you, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Your forehead is at the perfect spot.” He said, inching closer to give you a kiss.

You smiled at the gesture, it was sweet and made you feel warm on the inside.

“I’m sorry, I should have expressed my feelings better.” Daniel said, breaking the comfortable silence with words that felt heavier than they should have.

“Wait wait wait wait, what are you apologizing for? If anyone should be apologizing right now, it should be me; I’m the one who cut you off when I should have talked to you about my fears.” You replied, plummeting directly into the core of the matter, pulling away to look at his face better, you propped your head up on your arm for better comfort. Daniel mirrored your posture, propping his head on his arm, and reaching out with his other hand to hold yours.

“No, no, I thought about it a lot and I feel awful for how I came onto you-” You saw his face flinch when he registered the last few words and bit back a chuckle, “Uh, I was much older than you and still am, and it was your first summer back from college and all, and really I should have had a better conversation but we were both kinda drunk and it felt like oh y’know it’s now or never and-”

“Danny.” You interrupted him, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as a form of bodily punctuation.

He didn’t reply to you, his gaze met yours and for a moment you swore you would start crying. You’d known these past few days that your feelings for him had resurfaced, but every passing moment felt like those feelings hadn’t resurfaced, but instead had never left, they had existed for longer than you’d like to admit and no matter how much you’d lie and say it was momentary or what-not, they were real and had been existing longer than you’d acknowledge. Hearing him ramble hurt you, it was the saddest possible confirmation of his pre-existing and lasting feelings for you and though that fact should have brought comfort, his expression of that fact brought a great discomfort. You’d always known Daniel to be a man capable of expressing his thoughts and using his words, but at that moment, the way his words fell out of his mouth with his eyes darting and looking anywhere but yours made you regret any decision you thought to be correct.

“Dan, stop apologizing, whatever happened that night happened and I don’t regret what we did. Do you?”

“God, not at all.” Daniel replied, brows furrowing slightly as he lost grip of the direction of the conversation.

“Yeah, so the problem wasn’t the fact that we had sex. I just freaked out because I’ve had this crush on you for so long and I didn’t think anything would happen except then it did and it scared the shit out of me because I didn’t know what my family would say and I somehow convinced myself that you didn’t like me like that and that that night was just a fling and yes, before you say it, we did have a conversation during and after about our feelings but I don’t know I guess it felt too good to be true?”

You had spewed out a lot, most of which Daniel already knew, but the last bit of your statement completely threw him for a loop and momentarily disabled his brain for a response. In the two years he had to think over the matter, not once did he suspect that you would ever think he’d use you as a stupid drunk one-nightstand. Excluding guilt, all emotions Daniel felt towards you were inter-linked to great degrees with immense respect and genuine adoration for you- the idea of you seeing yourself as a silly drunken decision blew his mind. The emotions he felt were not verbally expressed, he was trying his best to untangle his thoughts while you read his expressions and said the first few words that came to mind.

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? Listen, I’m really sorry for ghosting you, it just became too much and I got so scared y’know like with my brother and my family, and your career and my college and-”

“Shut up.” He interrupted, confusion dissolving off his face.

He moved faster than you could question, pulling your face into his for a kiss. It wasn’t breath-taking or anything, but it truly was a long enough kiss to shut you up, for your train of thought to be completely derailed and for you to be distracted by his lips gently moving against yours as his hand let go of yours and moved to cup your face, thumb slowly stroking your cheek.

“I would never, ever look at you like that.” He said, face a few inches away from yours.

“Like what?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Like you’re worth letting go of, ever.” He whispered, scared of saying those words too loud.

Daniel had never admitted this to anyone, mainly because he couldn’t; the only person who knew the both of you was your brother and that wasn’t particularly a conversation he’d like to have earlier on, except now he was sure he didn’t care about what your brother had to say or what your family had to say- all he cared about was the fact that he wasn’t going to let any silly thought hold him back, nor was he willing to mess up and risk the chance of losing you again.

“Danny..” You tried to say something apart from his name, but failure was inevitable, you had never admitted this earlier and having to hear the confirmation of your unspoken fear and conclusionary reason for the cut-off brought you immense comfort. “I’m sorry for running away from you Danny.”

“I understand, I really do, please don’t beat yourself over it baby, I get it, I really really do.” He comforted you, as he pulled your head into his chest kissing the top of it as he felt you relax.

It truly felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, it felt like the two years you had spent thinking about him and all that could have been were useless and in the moment they felt sillier than they were. The time for the actions and confessions just wasn’t right and deep down inside the both of you had known it then and knew it now too.

The Enchante merch he was wearing felt soft against your skin, the supple fabric against our face felt comforting, his hand stroking your back felt comforting, the way you could feel his breath felt comforting- it all felt like a reward for the two years of discomfort.

“Y’know,” Daniel said, interrupting the one-sided conversation you were having with his heartbeat, “I don’t think your brothers’ going to be very surprised when we come clean about all this.”

“Hm? Why’re you so sure, did he say something?” You asked, confused with the random mention of your brother.

“Uh, no, but I think he’s seen me staring way too many times.” He laughed, “I mean the guys not an idiot.”

“I don’t think he’ll be too mad, I mean yeah he’d be mad at first, but it’s you and he trusts you, I don’t think he’d have an objection to us dating.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that we’re dating? Gee babe, lemme at least buy you dinner first.” Daniel laughed, a sound of joy that vibrated through his chest, which you slapped lightly as a response to the teasing.

“I mean- I don’t know, that’s not what I-” You got flustered, suddenly completely unsure of a response.

“Baby, baby, I’m joking, we’re dating that's for sure, I don’t think I wanna put that for later again.”

“Oh cut it out Ricciardo.” You mumbled, smiling at his stupid joke.

He hummed in response, holding onto you tighter as the thought settled in his head, he had hoped for this despite his ‘better’ judgment and now it was happening. You were in his arms, body completely slack against his with your breath slowing down as he felt your body drift off to sleep.

A/N: I'M BACKKK!!! after eid and a major depressive episode, I have returned to provide the finale of my Danny fic, I'm sorry if it's short, hope yall like it, as usual inbox is open for criticism and asks! Love you all<3

#daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 smut #honey badger

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 10 months ago

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hi! can you do a ethan laundry x reader where reader is ghostface too please ? (with smut if it’s possible)

Request: Riley!reader who wants to get revenge on sam for dewey’s death. She puts on the ghostface costume and is the mastermind for scream 6’s murders

I need someone to recreate this gif with

Warnings: mention of murders, scream 5 spoilers,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After years of surviving the masked killers, your father lost his life during the last murder spree in Woodsboro.

All because of Samantha Carpenter. If she hadn’t gone to your father’s trailer and asked for his help, he wouldn’t have died in that hospital corridor. He would still be living his quiet life as a retired police officer with a slight drinking problem and spend his days watching shitty TV while thinking of all sorts of dumb excuses to call your mother — and hopefully one day rekindle their relationship.

But now he was gone and you wanted revenge. Revenge for taking your father from you. Revenge for killing all hopes for your parents to get back together. Revenge for making your mother so heartbroken.

You wanted to stab Samantha Carpenter and watch her bleed out.

Once you got back to New York and started college, you crossed paths with other people who had the same dark urge. A grieving father, and his two remaining kids — Richie Kirsh’s family.

‘’Quinn should go. She’s fast.’’

‘’Sam is strong,’’ the redhead reminded them, knowing her roommate better than everyone else around the table.

‘’Then Ethan should go.’’ You glanced at Ethan, sitting before you. ‘’Can you take Sam?’’

He hesitated. He was confident about the elder Carpenter, but what if someone else was at the apartment? ‘’What if Chad’s there? He’s getting close with Tara and Sam is not letting Tara out of her sight since the new wave of murders.’’

Chad could bring a challenge for Ethan. Amber was able to take him to the ground last year, but it was dark and she took him by surprise. You’d rather not take a chance.

‘’I think it would be better if we went for Gale next,’’ Bailey said, not agreeing with your plan. ‘’We have to finish Richie’s movie—’’

The second victim was going to be killed using Amber Freeman’s mask. The same mask that was used to kill your father.

You slammed your knife on the table you were all sitting at, making the faux-detective and his son jump. ‘’She’s my mother, you sick fuck,’’ you reminded the older man, not letting him finish his sentence. ‘’You will not touch a single hair on my mother’s head, got it? It’s Sam we wants, not her.’’

Although they were crime partners, they were disposable. If any of them dared touching Gale Weathers, it’s their blood that will spill next. There’s enough rage in your small body to take them down.

‘’And Tara,’’ Quinn added.

You shrugged, not really caring for the other Carpenter sister.

After everyone was dismissed, Quinn went back to her and Sam’s apartment and Bailey to the police station. You could see on his face that he was mad at you, but you were the one in charge.

A chair screeched on the old wood floor and Ethan came up to you, a dark look in his eyes. He looked like a mommy’s boy in his preppy polo from the Gap. You didn’t understand why he chose to dress up in a ‘character’. All he had to do was use a fake name and pretend to be nice to Chad.

‘’The way you talked to my dad gave me a boner,’’ he informed you, not even embarrassed by it. You glanced down, seeing the tent in Ethan’s pants. ‘’He might be okay with killing his wife, but I would never harm my mother,’’ you said. Your eyes shifted back to Ethan’s face as you grabbed his belt to pull him closer. ‘’Besides, I’m the brain of the operation. I make the calls.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy @s-al-em @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres @miqi-16 @not-liah @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts @l3ndryz @ilovelandry @your-platonic-gay-lover @danniackerman @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @zoeynicolas @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @pumkinnroses @cruzgrecia @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe @gizmodecaprio

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #scream #scream 6 #scream imagine #cleaning my drafts and requests

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acotarxreader · 5 months ago

Text

The Art of You

Cassian x Reader

Synopsis: Cassian found recovery in the art that he created while preparing to apply to art school in New York, his greatest muse being his high-flying down-to-earth socialite girlfriend, you.

Warning; Fluff and modern

A/N: A little Cass fic dedicated to absolutely wonderfully kind and ever-lovely Cassian Queen @sarawritestories on her birthday. Happy (early) Birthday Friend Xx

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

“YNN, can you just please stop fidgeting”

“I’m so boreeeeeeeed Cass” You whined out, your voice echoing around Azriel and Rhysand’s apartment before you fixed your posture to sit straight once again on the stool.

“Well, blame Az, it's not my fault someone ate my bowl of fruit” Azriel rolled his eyes from the dining room chair he rocked back and forth, chucking the core of an apple into a cerulean bowl. Cassian fired a piece of charcoal directly into his best friend's eye as he winked at him A howl left Azriel, immediately gaining a laugh from the both of you. Cassian quickly took a picture of his two best friends and their merriment.

“It'll be easier to draw from a reference who doesn't have the bladder of a Chihuahua” You glared playfully at his words and he took another picture.

“Well, I gotta go anyway Cass, my lovely Aunt will be wondering where I am” You slipped from the chair and into your jacket, Cassian's face sinking.

“How will she react when she hears you’re in love with a starving artist and his soul-searching friends, ruining the image of a socialite” Azriel spoke playfully, trying to lighten the tension from you with having to return to your hectic household.

“I didn’t know you had a soul Az” you teased, buttoning up your coat, ready to face the bone-chilling gales of New York in the Winter.

“Rhy’s dad bought him one”

“Don’t be jealous Cass, you could have moved in with us but no, you chose the damp and rot of that hole you call home” Azriel laughed out to Cassian's toying, Cassian promptly firing more charcoal his way.

“I’m sure she’d love if I social climbed my way to someone like Rhysand”

“Ouch” Rhysand emerged from the bathroom, waist swaddled in a thick fluffy towel, still damp from his shower. You had met Rhysand many years ago through various social functions your Aunt and Uncle dragged you to. The both of you quickly form an alliance of mischief at the events to keep yourselves from boredom. Cassian and Azriel came into your life once Rhysand had finally moved home to New York bringing them along for the fun. Their friendship spanning countless years of Summer camps together from which you had heard such grand stories, you all quickly became fast friends shortly after their arrival.

“Yeah tell her it's the heir to a fortune you’re in love with and not the unemployed artist, what both of your families have groomed you for for years”

“Gross” both you and Rhysand replied in unison

“Az, I’m not unemployed, I’m retired from active military duty. I’m just on leave while I recover and they figure out what to do with me” Cassian rolled his eyes for the millionth time, gathering the creative supplies that had helped him through his toughest months since returning from his time in service.

“Retired like an old man” He nudged you gently while you smirked at him.

“If it’s just leave then why are you applying for art school here?” Rhysand shot from his bedroom door, a raised eyebrow.

“Because-because-”

“-Because he’s great at it, Feyre is gonna try to get his art into the gallery she’s managing”

“Ah nepotism”

“Rhys, y’know what they say about those in glass houses” The group laughed towards the former military man as he reached your side smiling, forever happy you always knew what to say to defend him and his decisions.

“Right kids, I gotta go” You pecked Cassian's cheek, your two other best friends groaning at the sight.

—---------------------------------------

The following night you found yourself waiting outside the rusting entrance to Cassian's apartment, many many many subway stops from where you, Rhysand and Azriel’s playground was. You wrapped your thick designer coat tighter around you fighting off the cold while waiting for Cassian to buzz you into his humble home. You subconsciously placed your car key between your fingers, ready to use it at any moment to defend yourself in the dilapidating area. The sound of the cage humming to release from its locks in front of you filled you instantly with relief, you pulled it to access the entrance to the block of apartments stairway.

Cassian stole the cold away from you in his usual all-encompassing hug. He promptly took your coat for you as you sat down on the tattered couch. The apartment in its completeness was probably the size of Rhysand and Azriel’s sitting room alone. The oven could practically be reached from the couch but there was still room for Cassian's extensive video collection and a small table for two. Adjacent to the kitchen was the tiny bathroom and the entrance to his bedroom, the double bed nearly touching all four walls, a nest of cushioning you frequented.

“Why don’t you ever use that closest?” You quizzed as Cassian draped your coat along the back of the dining room chair. Cassian stiffened for a moment before turning back to you with a shrug.

“Emm that’s where I keep the dead bodies” you chuckled at him, he returned the smile. He dragged the second chair to land across from you where he sat and began to sketch, another one of your evenings to be spent with Cassian practising his portrait work.

“Are you going to allow me to see this one?”

“My love, you know that’s not how this operation works” You sighed, knowing you should have anticipated his reply, he never let you see any of the works where you were the subject.

“How come I’ve never seen the inside of that closet?” you gestured with your chin to the door behind him.

“How come I’ve never met your aunt and uncle? Hm? We’ve been together almost a year”

“Touche-” You laughed “-they’re terrible people, Cass, they don’t deserve to meet you”

“Even still, maybe Az is right and you should tell them it's Rhysand that keeps you away from them so much”

“I’d rather swim up the Hudson in January” You smiled away at the growing sad tone in his voice, his smile growing across his face as he lowered his gaze back to the pad of paper, exhaling loudly in frustration. By 11 pm Cassian had gone through countless sheets of thick paper and abandoned all of the versions of you without allowing you so much as a glance.

“Right, I need coffee” he stood, tossing the closed pad to the floor.

“I’m gonna grab one of your sweatshirts, it's so cold in here” You could almost see Cassian's breath as he laughed at you. He made his way into the bathroom as you returned to the couch, wrapping the long sleeves in balls in your hand, attempting to trap what heat you could.

“My love, can you throw me in a hand towel please”

“Yeah where are they?” you called back to him through the closed door.

“In the closest by the- WAIT ACTUALLY I’LL GET IT MYSELF” His shouts came too slowly for you, the ounce of permission you had waited for for so long allowed you to finally pull the door of the hall closet open. Cassian dashed from the bathroom, his wet hand reaching for the door as you opened it but not quickly enough, a loud whoosh filled the apartment with sheets and sheets of paper, it tumbling out like a tsunami. Reams and reams of endless amounts of art washed over the two of you flooding the ground of the apartment.

“Gods! You’re a hoarder! My boyfriend is a hoarder! I’m going to end up on the news after they dig us out of this!” You laughed lightly, Cassian stepping out of the almost ankle-high amount of his secret to stand between you and the door, your chests almost touching.

“You don't need to see in there, it's all rough drafts of sketches that never came to be...it's all waste paper….” You raised an eyebrow before stepping back from him, looking down at the vast amount of sketches at your feet. Cassian dipped down quickly, attempting to pull back the drawings before you could properly examine them. It was too late, you had seen the vast amount of countless drawings, sketches, etches of you and your friends. Paint, chalk, pastels, pencil, watercolour, you name it and there were half finished creations everywhere.

“Are thes- are these me?” You just collected a random sample from your feet, Cassian seeming immediately ashamed taking them from you only to have you quickly replace them with others.

“They're not done...none of them are, I can't quite get you no matter what I do...you must think I'm crazy” You were almost too busy looking at the intricate details to hear him. You separated your eyes from the pages to focus on the walls of the closet. They too were covered with pages but also pictures. Pictures of you and your friends, you on your own, you and him. You traced your fingers across a few of them with Cassian’s eyes fixed on your every movement for any sign of negative expression. Instead you just seemed amazed at the sheer quantity and quality. You stepped around him to reach for a photo of the two of you, you both making goofy faces at the camera, a memory from your attempt to ride a tandem bike through Central Park. You laughed lightly at the photo, your hand tracing over your elbow beneath the fabric where the scar from the stitches after the fall from said bike still remained.

“My love, please say something, I might be sick if you don't"

“I love them Cass, I mean you might want to try to draw a few objects for the portfolio as well as portraits but still, wow” you laughed, pulling the photo down from the wall, the bluetac taking some paint with it.

“This was a great day, trip to the ED aside...you should draw this”

“I don't know YNN, I've never done a self portrait and-”

“-Then I'll draw you and you can draw me? Please?” He couldn't say no to you, rolling his eyes before searching for materials.

“Are you sure you have paper?” You teased as he pushed the hoards of drawings back into their cage.

“Shut up” he laughed in reply, retrieving a large fresh drawing pad of paper and pencils.

The two of you hovered over the shared piece of A2 paper sprawled across the width of the dining table, both quickly learning to draw around one another with impressive fluidity. Cassian stood behind you, one arm to support himself on one side of you, the other sketching alongside your hand. By 2 am the joint eclectic masterpiece of mixed personal styles was coming to fruition, both of you happy to spend the time together in the comfortable homily silence neither of you could find with anyone else other than one another.

“Why don’t you draw more, my love?” the first time either of you had spoken since starting, his warm words sending electric shivers down the back of your neck.

“I don't really know, I guess I stopped liking the solitary aspect of it...I much prefer this” he agreed and you both continued at the masterpiece until it finally felt as whole as you made one another feel. You both stood back to admire the medley of lines, the drawing was not as perfect or susynced as if one artist had done it but it was yours and that made up for any mismatches in theme.

“It’s perfect”

“Just like one of the artists who made it” he beamed down to you as you folded yourself into his embrace, a tender kiss landing on the top of your head.

“Art school isn’t ready for a talent like you” You reached to kiss him gently.

“When I’m a famous artist, I’ll be worthy enough to meet your family” You groaned into his chest before pulling back again.

“Cass, you’re worthy of all of me now but they are not worthy of you. Once I’ve aged into the trust my parents left me they’re going to be so far gone from my world it won’t matter their opinion on anything in my life”

“So their opinion matters in your life now?” you groan again before laughing at his grinning face.

“If I’m lucky once they find out you’re a hoarder that’ll kill them off” You smirked down to the remaining few paper stragglers on the floor. Your eyes landed back on the masterpiece you had both created together.

“To spend a lifetime trying to be worthy of you my love would be a lifetime well spent”

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

Whatcha think?

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formulapookie · 2 months ago

Text

💛💛

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4

Les fleurs du mal ch.5 rosquez, 2.1k words

It’s nine in the morning of a beautiful Sunday, he finally got all the truth Uccio for God knows what reason had chosen to change, corrupt, modify for him to see a distorted version of reality.

The telemetry, that shit was just made up, by a jealous? angry? Uccio, who chose to ruin the one good relationship in forever like that, like it had just been a flash, instead of the sun in his life.

He wanted to call Marc, hell no drive until Cervera and say he was sorry, that he had been an asshole, a terrible person, but to please forgive him because he had been shielded from the reality and couldn’t see.

That now tho he sees the love Marc always reserved for him, he sees how much Marc is willing to sacrifice for them, for the love they share.

There’s a voice note in his notifications, along with two missed calls, from Marc.

And a text from Lorenzo.

“Vale?”

“Mh?”

They’re laying in bed, at Vale’s house, softly surrounded by pearly colored sheets, the sound of the town filling the outside world.

“Do you ever think about like, the future?”

“In general or us?”

“Both”

“Well of course amore, I think of my racing career and more titles and of the time when I’ll inevitably have to retire.

And I think about us, free from the media attention, in a beautiful house near the see.

No neighbours, just us, and you are sunbathing naked next our pool and then I-“

Marc blushes, hiding his face more in the crook of Vale’s neck

“What amore? It wouldn’t be the first time I see you naked eh. I think I saw you pretty clearly last night”

“Vale! This was supposed to be romantic!”

“Is it not romantic? Making love to you in a house we share?”

“I - yeah it is”

“See? And you? You think about the future?”

“Yeah. I see us in a house in the middle of the countryside tho, with animals.

Dogs, a lot of dogs, and your strange red cat too”

“Rossano is not strange!”

“He looks at me funny whenever I’m here.

But anyway, a cute house in the countryside, just the two of us, it’s peaceful”

“But? I feel like there’s a but”

“But I also think about the sport and the danger and - Vale are you scared of death? I am terrified by it. It’s just - one day you just cease to be and I cannot think the universe is so cruel to do this”

“Amore, of course i’m scared of it, and it. In our sport it can happen. It took me years to get over the fact Marco was gone. But life ends in death no matter what we do, we have to live it at our fullest still”

“Im scared thought, I don’t like the idea of it. It’s cold you think? When you”

“I don’t know. It could be. Or it could be warm like drifting asleep with a blanket on and just - sleep”

For Marc it’s cold when he dies.

Freezing even, and so so lonely.

When Roser finds him, curled beside his bed, clutching in his arms the helmet signed by that man, it’s like being shot in the heart.

She tries to wake him, tries to call him, but he’s cold.

Unmoving.

Still like the moment she finds herself in.

Marc is holding onto that one piece of his heart like he’s still alive, the strong grip seemingly coming from a strong person.

But when she looks at him all she can see is her little boy, her son.

Pale and tired and sad.

He looks like he’s having a bad dream, the unsettling kind of dreams where you don’t precisely know where you are and can’t get out.

There’s petals on the ground.

Yellow.

So much yellow and she just wants to burn it all away.

She cries more, calling for Marc again, trying to get him back.

But Marc can’t hear her, the only sounds in the room are Roser’s sobs and the repetitive buzz of Marc’s phone.

When Marc wakes up in the middle

of the night he’s cold, shivering.

The fever is taking over, he’s hallucinating again.

He reaches out for Vale, why is he not in bed?

Oh right, he’s still not back yet.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because they have time.

The scratch in the back of his throat seems to be less excruciating too, like it’s being kept at bay.

Well this just means Vale is close right?

He’s coming, finally he’s coming home to tell him he still loves him, and - and the roots will go away the same way they arrived.

“Oh I need to set the room up, Vale has to see my collection has improved, yes, he needs to see it”

Marc unpacks the two boxes Roser had stuffed full, carefully taking out the items in them.

The cap and the picture first, he places them on the shelf next to his bed, close, so close the cap covers half the picture, the half where Marc is.

Then it’s the bikes turn.

Slowly, methodically, precisely, Marc takes them out the box one by one, placing them in the same exact order he had bought them.

He sees Alex in his room, he’s not happy.

“Marc come on stop you look ridiculous”

“Ah Alex stop it, you’ve just never been in love, when you’ll be you’ll get it”

He’s standing on his bed, mattress dipping under his rapidly decreasing weight.

“You see, Vale is coming and the room has to be nice for him, I want it to be more beautiful than ever, he deserves the best”

Marc is smiling, like a kid on his birthday, waiting to blow the candles.

“Oh he’ll want the 2004 Yamaha to be the most visible for sure, he loves that bike God how he loves it”

He keeps talking to a non existing Alex, while he feels colder and colder.

“I better put on a hoodie, don’t want to catch a cold before Vale arrives for sure”

He goes pick up the one hoodie Vale left there, in his home.

It still smells like him.

He sits on the bed, legs crossed with his phone beside him, facing the door.

He stays there for minutes, maybe an hour even.

There’s no sudden buzzing of the phone, no sound of a car parking outside, no knocking on the door signaling Vale is there.

Well not yet, maybe he just doesn’t like to travel with the dark.

Yeah it - it must be that.

Because it’s either that or.

Or Vale isn’t coming.

Not now, not in a million years he’s gonna spend tidying up his room to welcome Vale back in it.

When the fever lets go of him and he sees clearly again it hurts.

Physically, mentally, emotionally it all hurts like it’s been crushed by tons and tons of rocks thrown on top of him.

Hot big tears fall from his eyes, follow the now slim outline of his cheekbones, and collect under Marc’s chin.

“He is coming. He is coming. I know he’s coming”

He tries to convince himself of this, even with the hallucination gone, he gets up and sets up the room.

It has to look exactly like it did when Vale came here last time, little bikes in their precise fragile order.

The last thing he takes out the boxes is the helmet.

Signed, a little note left for him by Vale, unmistakable messy handwriting on the clean visor.

He takes his phone, it’s stupid, childish but he can’t do otherwise.

He calls him.

Twenty, twenty five seconds of his phone ringing. No answer.

He tries again. And once again there’s no answer on the other side.

He opens their chat, it’s still on hold since the last text Vale sent.

“Good luck for the race babychamp”

He presses the button to send the voice note, the first few seconds just of silence.

“Vale. It’s me. I - please Vale it hurts so much, I can’t breathe I need you to come here quick I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for what I did, all of it, I’m sorry I didn’t want you to lose, I didn’t want to do anything against you. I never - I never went to him, I would never cheat on you, I only ever had you please believe me Vale. Vale I love you. I’m home and, and it hurts so much. Please I need to see you. Please. I need to feel your hugs again. I’m cold Vale so cold”

The voice note sends, but there’s no blue ticks to signal it’s been read.

Marc climbs off the bed, his phone beside him, holding the helmet between his arms like it’s the most prized possession of his, he fears it may scratch, or get ruined if he accidentally bumps into the shelf he usually laid it on.

All his words now barely a whisper, he’s trying to stay anchored to reality by clutching at that damn helmet, it’s almost sunrise, almost sunrise and there’s no sign of Vale.

He abandoned him.

Vale abandoned him.

He truly hates him, he truly wants Marc to not represent a menace at all.

That’s fine. Vale will be fine without him too, he was fine before meeting him, there’s no need for Marc to exist in Vale’s life.

Maybe he’s gonna be a weight less, he will just go away, like he came in.

A breeze.

Marc can feel himself getting colder, and the petals in his throat now make it impossible to breathe.

He vomits them rather than coughing, a sea of yellow hollowness making its way out of his body, the everlasting presence of Valentino beside him even right now.

“you promised it was going to be warm like falling asleep with a blanket, but it’s cold, it’s so cold”

He’s still waiting there, looking at the door like a dog waiting for his owner does.

Argo had waited for Ulysses for years before he came back, and had died right in his arms.

But Marc knows his Ulysses won’t arrive, not even to hold him as he leaves behind the ugly and hurt of the mortal world.

He’s an abandoned dog. Even if he was loyal. He’s been abandoned.

He cries on the helmet, the last tears he can still produce, before his life abandons him too, the last breath used to hope, to call Vale’s name.

When Roser finally looks at the ID of the caller on her son’s phone she is angry.

She wants to smash that phone against a wall, make it shut up once and for all.

“Vale💛💙” identifies the person calling, the rage she feels is unexplainable through words.

She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t deserve to know from her what happened to her sweet boy, he will forever live with the guilt of having killed him.

She only manages to call Alex and their father two hours later.

She tells them to come there, that Marc has gone to sleep the night but hasn’t woken up now.

When Alex barges in he’s red in the face, crying and cursing.

He runs to the room they used to share, and sees how Marc has set it up once again, memories of Vale on all the shelves.

He also sees the many yellow petals littering the ground of the bedroom, a dark feeling taking residence in his chest.

“Marc? Marc it’s me, it’s Alex, I know you can hear me, you’re just sleeping, but you have to wake up, mom is getting worried. You need to wake up Marc please, I don’t know what to do without you”

“Alex he’s not-“

“HE’S ALIVE HE’S JUST - he’s just making a joke mom he - he can’t be dead mom he can’t be”

“Alex come here”

“No. No he - it’s not right. It’s not right he shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t end like this, he promised me we would’ve been together on the podium one day, he promised”

Roser has to drag Alex away from Marc, he doesn’t want to let go, he wants to save him.

“Alex. Look at me. You have to think of what Marc wanted ok?”

“Marc wanted to live! He wanted to race and win and - he wanted so many things! He’s scared of death, terrified of being alone! AND HE WAS ALONE!”

“But he wanted you to live too, he wanted you to be there on track, to be here with us. Please don’t - don’t make me lose you too Alex”

“No no i’m not going anywhere mom I promise. I’m not going away, sorry sorry sorry mom I’m staying here”

“Can you? I can’t call anyone to tell”

“Yeah yeah i I’ll uh ill call people”

“Be kind with yourself, as kind as your brother was with you ok?”

“Ok”

They think about removing everything from the room.

Putting it back in boxes.

But Marc’s last wish was probably for the room to be like this, and they couldn’t go against his wish.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #angst no comfort #hanahaki #i'll just leave yall to judge this #tw mcd

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thenameswinterfics · 20 days ago

Text

GET TO KNOW…CREGAN STARK

Word Count: 1763

Cover magazine by @foxyanon Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

The following writing is a companion piece to "The Lives of Friends", a SMAU collaboration made by me, @legitalicat , @zaldritzosrose and @foxyanon.

Interview under the cut!

Interviewer: Welcome back to our readers. This is Cayn Karstark for Northern Wilds, and our weekly appointment is focused on the well-known Winter Wolves Sanctuary. But before we focus on the conservation work being done, it is important to remember that there has been a recent "changing of the guard" at the sanctuary, and now it is being run by none other than Rickon Stark's eldest son, Cregan, who is here with us today. Welcome, Cregan, and thank you for accepting our invitation.

Cregan Stark: Thank you, Cayn. It’s good to be here.

CK: Before we start our interview, we would like to know if your father is okay.

CS: Of course, he's much more than fine, sometimes even better than me! (laughs) But it was not the health issues that convinced him to take a step back, but rather the desire to retire and focus more on his private life.

CK: We are heartened to know that health was not the reason for Rickon Stark’s retirement, but we must know this: how did you feel at the realisation that you had inherited your father’s “little empire” at such a young age?

CS: Oh well… I was intimidated at first, I won't hide it. Not all young men my age have a father who leaves you with a family business that has stood for generations. It was a huge leap of faith at first, but I overcame my fears and embraced my family's philosophy about the sanctuary, and it warms my heart to see it thriving despite this change.

CK: It was indeed a surprise to us! When the news broke, some of us were sure that your Uncle Bennard would step in for you.

CS: There was a private discussion in our family about who should replace the figure of my father. My uncle's name came up several times in internal meetings, with many for and just as many against. But Rickon Stark has always been a man of family tradition: he inherited the Sanctuary from his father, who inherited it from his father, so it was inevitable that his choice would one day fall on me.

CK: How did your uncle take your father’s choice?

CS: Knowing that old man, he would probably feel left out by his own brother, who chose his own son over him. The Sanctuary had always been a source of tension between them, with my grandfather placing the responsibility on my father's shoulders and thus neglecting his other son. Fortunately, the bad feeling was quickly dispelled and relations relaxed. He's building his own business in Winterfell, near the Wall, hoping to create a small legacy to pass on to his own sons.

CK: It's good to say that everything ended in the best possible way. But we will come back to your private life later, if you allow us, of course, and focus more on your recent activities at the Sanctuary.

CS: Of course, I’m glad to answer all your questions.

CK: Let's get straight to the point, then. What impressed us the most about your work at the Sanctuary is there’s a continuous work philosophy between your leadership and that of your father. What convinced you not to detach yourself from him completely?

CS: Perhaps the fact that I flanked my father before he handed over control of the Sanctuary to me was the reason I did not change our working philosophy. He was an endless source of inspiration, and he was very serious and meticulous about his work: I still remember him scolding me when I mixed up the resting places of different animals, or when I made trivial mistakes at work! (chuckles, shaking his head) But he only did this because he loved his work and felt the need to preserve the family tradition through me, passing on a passion that I immediately shared with him. He was my shadow during my first days as an official owner, and it was only after he made sure that I had learned all the necessary skills that he completely disappeared from the scene. I feel like I owe something to him, and a total disassociation from our shared vision of the work would have been a misuse of the mission and vision of our work.

CK: One of the first things we noticed in your early leadership is how conservation has become a focus of your own work. Could you please explain your view on this subject?

CS: Well, the thing is, Westeros has areas of great beauty, with a cultural diversity not to be underestimated. The local fauna is highly concentrated there, and it's not surprising to see herds of wild animals roaming undisturbed in the wilderness. What worries me most is how our planet has changed significantly in recent years due to our impact on it, and how this has affected the home of most species. This is how the Winter Wolves Sanctuary works: we emphasise the importance of preserving the fragile wildlife of Westeros, providing them with a safe environment and allowing them to recover from threats such as habitat destruction. Our efforts are focused on the recovery and immediate care of animals in distress until they are deemed healthy enough to be released back into the wild.

CK: Why is it important for you to rehabilitate animals in the sanctuary?

CS: I think the importance of rehabilitating animals in sanctuaries is critical to preventing the possible extinction of certain species. As I said, our main goal is to protect the animals' welfare by providing them with all the food and medical care they need until we are sure we have increased their chances of survival in the wild. Every day we receive various calls about animal hoarders throughout Westeros, and we are all increasingly surprised by the number of animals we collect at the Sanctuary: large and small, puppies and adults... Every kind of animal is welcome at the Winter Wolf Sanctuary.

CK: You said before that every kind of animal is welcomed in the sanctuary. But it’s an animal species that you most frequently receive during your retirements?

CS: Funny enough, wolves are the animals we usually take in, especially since many of the calls come from the wild areas of Winterfell. Generally young pups that lost their mother, but it happened that in the past we welcomed young adults or elder wolves as well. Sadly enough, when we have to take care of our puppies, many are too young to be released alone into their natural habitat, and so they stay with us in the sanctuary. It is the case of Fenrir, the wolf cub a person and I decided to officially adopt.

Cregan leans forward and extends his arms gently towards Fenrir, who occasionally approaches his owner. The wolf cub allows Cregan to pick him up, and he rests quietly in his arms

CS: You can pet him, it doesn’t bite!

CK: This is surely one of the reasons why you are known as the “Wolf of Winterfell”, then!

The atmosphere is playful, and the room is filled with the laughter of those present. A couple minutes after, everyone become serious again, and the interview goes on

CK: Thank you for sharing with us your knowledge of the animal world and the philosophy you've adopted for the sanctuary, Cregan. But I would like to reopen a small parenthesis about your family. In all the interviews we have done in the past, your father Rickon has always emphasised how close your family is. Has that changed or remained the same?

CS: Oh, luckily not! Our strong bond is what characterises us as a family. I would like to use a phrase that my father used in all his interviews: "family is like a pack of wolves: we are all united in front of the leader of the pack and no one is ever left behind." This is essentially what happened when my father decided to step in and welcome Sihtric Kjartansson into our family. He and my mother gave him food and shelter and treated him as if he were their second son, and that kind of love continues to this day. We're not blood brothers, but we've always had each other's backs and loved and respected each other as if we were. Sometimes he shows up at the doors of the Sanctuary, tired and still covered in bruises and cuts from his previous fights, but no matter how much I shout at him to go home and rest, he'll just be there waiting for a call for help, and even if I don't show it much, I'm glad for his generosity.

CK: I suppose the same relationship exists with your sisters.

CS: Right. I have two amazing sisters who have supported me from the beginning of this journey. Alisanne is my twin sister and a force of nature, she has a huge heart and supports you with everything she has. Lyanna too, as both myself and Alisanne have been her rock in her first steps into the fashion world, and in return she has supported us by helping out with the bakery and the sanctuary as much as she can. Our greatest weakness is that we are hard workers: we barely manage to find any free time, and now that Fenrir has joined the family, all attention is focused on him. Perhaps Sihtric is the only one saved from this workaholism, since his wife Rhaenerys knows how to discipline him properly. (laughs)

CK: So, outside your family, have you not yet had the chance to make new acquaintances?

CS: As I said, the sanctuary takes up most of my time, so it is difficult for me to get out and meet new people. It's also why the few relationships I've had in the past haven't lasted more than two months. But when I joined a dating app for fun, I found a connection with a girl I've been seeing recently. She's a kind soul with a lot of creativity, and being with her makes me forget all the stress and commitments I have at work. We're in a sort of 'long distance' relationship, but...

Suddenly, Cregan’s phone rings. The interviewer sees him talking a bit about something important related to work, and a few minutes after the call ends.

CS: I have to go, I've just had a call about a new hoarder coming to the sanctuary. Thank you for your time Cayn.

CK: Thank you for your time Cregan Stark and good luck with running the sanctuary.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading this! Hope you enjoyed it!

#cregan stark #smau #modern smau #modern au #the lives of friends #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #smau interview

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sorchathered · 9 months ago

Text

Sacred New Beginnings

Chapter 5

A/N- this is NOT a finale guys! After much deliberation I decided I have too much to say for only 3 chapters, so we are on this train until I’m ready to give it up! 😂

Summary- it’s the morning after Mav and Penny’s wedding, and there are revelations to unpack as new drama unfolds.

Song inspo- Sunday kind of love- Etta James, You send me- Sam Cooke, Ironic- Alanis Morissette, Karma- Taylor Swift

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

Warnings- language, drinking, smut (wrap it up kids) minors dni.

Bradley wakes up to one of the worst hangovers he’s had in his adult life. He made it home and proceeded to drain most of his liquor cabinet after the wedding, it had been a bad day all around and seeing you and Jake wrapped up in each others arms after years of worrying was the icing on the cake. He knew logically he had no room to be pissed off, you knew everything now and there would be no salvaging your love life. He had hoped to explain it himself, maybe find a way to convince you it was nothing but in reality he knew that wasn’t the case. He’d continued a relationship with Mirage after you left, whether or not it was just sex didn’t really matter, he’d slept with someone else. His therapist had told him weeks ago that he believed Bradley was in love with the idea of love and having a family, less in the people he was in relationships with and while it had hurt to hear he knew somewhere in him it was true.

He’d loved the attention and adoration from his partners, and some part of him had loved Stormy once; but the two of you disagreed fundamentally on so many things. You were career driven, he wanted you to retire in the next 5 years so you could start a family, he wanted to stay in California and you had always dreamed of settling down south near your grandmother’s old home. When he’d seen you becoming more successful than him it had set a fire in him and he used it to burn your relationship to the ground. He didn’t deserve you, and he certainly didn’t get to dictate who you chose to be with after him.

As he stumbled through the house to let out his dog he appraised the damage. His clothes were scattered everywhere, liquor cabinet raided and somehow he’d left the fridge open. He was a mess right now, if his mother could see him she’d be so disappointed. He finally finds his phone in the couch cushions, messages and missed calls from Nat and Rueben clogging his notifications. He couldn’t dig into all of that right now, so he just called Nat to let him know he was ok, yanking the phone from his ear as she screamed into the phone.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

“Jesus dude I was asleep what the hell is wrong? You have a key you could’ve just come over if it’s that serious, who died?”

“Bradley. You haven’t been on instagram today have you?”

“No, but I already know about Jake and Stormy so if they went instagram official I’d rather not-“

“Wait what?! Never mind that’s not what this is about. You need to go to Mirage’s profile, right now.”

Bradley scrolls through the app and clicks on her profile, expecting to see she decided to stop waiting on him and find a boyfriend now or something stupid like that, only to be met with a carousel of photos. Pictures of the two of them, and at the end a picture of a pregnancy test, two pink lines confirming something he never dreamed of. Not only had she hard launched them, but she also told the world he was going to be a father…without confirming with him first. He was fucked.

——————————————————————

Meanwhile on the other side of North Island Jake is waking up to his version of heaven. His bed may be empty but he can hear the soft sound of you singing, and the smell of coffee and pancakes has him wandering down the hall. Your hair is in a messy knot, you’ve got one of his Texas longhorn t shirts on and you and Patsy Cline are crooning “Walking after midnight.” Flitting back and forth between chopping fruit and flipping pancakes, you sway to the song (your grandmother’s favorite) and he’s sure this is the best morning of his life. He sneaks up behind you to spin you and you shriek and giggle, swatting him with the spatula as he kisses your cheeks and forehead.

“Morning Tex, how’d you sleep?” You say with a big grin, running your free hand over his tanned torso and you catch him close his eyes and shiver into your touch.

“Mm, I’ll be honest darlin’ might have been the best night of sleep in my whole life, ‘cept I woke up alone and almost thought you were a dream.” He plucks the spatula from your hand and hip bumps you away from the stove, taking over your spot cooking and you make your way to the coffee pot to pour him a mug.

“I uh- I cancelled my flight for this afternoon” you’re trying to be nonchalant about it but you can tell by the way his head snaps up he is holding on to your every word.

“And I may have asked Uncle Beau for a favor and extended my leave for the rest of the week… I hope that’s ok, I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

You look a little nervous as he turns the stove off and looks at you, but he takes two big strides and yanks you into his arms, pulling at your (his) shirt and kissing you hard and you know you had nothing to worry about.

You both laugh into each other’s mouths, he’s hoisted you into his arms and delicately places you on the kitchen table, rucking your shirt above your breasts as he nips and sucks on the exposed skin.

“Jake- breakfast” you breathe out and he grins up at you between your thighs

“I want you for breakfast first baby, then we can have pancakes. Be a good girl and take it ok?”

He brings you to your release three times before he lets you up, grabbing the plates from the counter and sitting you in his lap. Between bites you reach into his shorts and pull him free lining yourself up with him and he hisses into your mouth.

“What’re you up to sweet thing?”

“Shhh, wanna be close baby, need you”

You take turns feeding each other while you slowly rock yourself on Jake, and it definitely is the best morning either of you have ever had.

——————————————————————

Neither of you had even touched your phones since you left the wedding the night before, it was nearing 5 pm and you had spent the day watching movies and letting Jake fuck you in every room of his house, finally deciding the two of you needed to eat you dragged yourself to his room to get your phone off the charger to order takeout. When you turned your phone on you were bombarded with notifications, nearly deciding to just turn it back off once you noticed you had a notification from Bradley. You ordered dinner and continued to ignore the overwhelming amount of messages, annoyance etched on your face when you came back to the living room, and Jake reached for your phone already knowing you wouldn’t want to pop the perfect bubble of the day.

“You don’t have to look at any of this shit today if you don’t want to y/n, we can worry about it tomorrow.”

You sighed and ran your hand over your face, it wasn’t that easy even if he tried to make it that way. “Will you just look for me? Tell Nat I’m not interested in hashing out the drama tonight and we can talk at lunch.”

He nodded and scrolled through, but as you watched his face you immediately knew something was wrong.

“Ok maybe you do need to tell me, what happened? Is someone hurt?”

He shook his head but looked almost nauseous, so you yanked the phone from his hands, he didn’t even bother to try and keep it from you.

On the screen was almost 30 messages from Phoenix, begging you not to check instagram. It had been hours since her last message but she seemed insistent that you call her first. She picked up on the first ring, screeching into the phone before you could say anything.

“Jesus! Where the fuck have you been Stormy? I had half a mind to come over to Hangman’s to beat the door down.”

“We decided to shut our phones off, sorry Tash. What is wrong? Please tell me everyone is ok.”

“Everyone’s safe, it’s not that kind of emergency. But it’s not good y/n. Bradley apparently saw the two of you last night, and then…”

“Then what? What Nat?”

“Y/n…Mirage is pregnant.”

——————————————————————

You knew it was the wrong way to respond, Jake had dropped his fork right out of his mouth at Nat’s declaration; that definitely seemed like more of a normal response. You on the other hand looked unhinged as doubled over in laughter, gasping for air as tears poured from your eyes.

“Seresin, what’s happening? Is- is she laughing?”

Jake looks at you like you have 3 heads but still manages to take your phone from your shaking form,

“Yeah Phoenix it looks like it”

“Do we need to be worried?”

“Too soon to tell, let me figure this shit out and we’ll call you later.”

He hangs up and takes your hand, you’re coming down from it now as you swipe the tears from your face, still trying to stifle giggles.

“Oh God,” you gasp out “I’m so sorry, but you seriously can’t make this shit up can you?” You erupt into another round of giggles and now Jake can’t help but join in, this really is a shitshow.

Finally you settle and he looks at you with concern, but you wave him off and move your take out boxes to the coffee table as you scoot into his lap. Running your hands through his hair you lean in to kiss him and as much as he doesn’t want to he pulls back to get you to look at him.

“I’ll let you bury yourself in me if you need baby but you still gotta talk to me ok? What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You shake your head at him and peck his lips, you knew he wouldn’t let you get away with pushing it aside.

“Is it strange that I almost feel bad for him? He’s burned his whole world down, knowing what I know now I would never want to be around him let alone with him again, and while I have thrived in his absence he just keeps ruining his life. I don’t miss him, but I pity him. Does that make sense?”

It’s definitely not the response he expected, he thought you’d be hurt and that it would rehash all the emotional damage you’d dealt with, he can’t help but be impressed.

“You’re taking this a whole lot better than I thought sugar, I gotta be honest.”

You pull him close as you straddle his hips, running your nose along his cheekbone and press kisses to his face.

“Like I told you, I don’t miss him. I don’t want him. I want you. This isn’t avoidance Jake, I moved on and I want to spend the rest of my life with you if that’s what you want too. So can we stop worrying about Rooster and his emotional bullshit and just go back to being us?”

He lets you take the lead, settling into the couch with you and switching the long forgotten movie back on, whatever his wingman’s problems are don’t include him after all. He’s got bigger things on his mind, like getting you back to San Diego or requesting a transfer to Pensacola. Maybe getting the two of you a bigger house with a yard, a dog or two and a backyard big enough to fill with your own kids. As he falls asleep trapped under your warm embrace visions of what could be dance behind his eyes, and he makes a mental note to ask his mother for Grandma Seresin’s engagement ring.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

Thanks so much to @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem, and @bobgasm for talking me through this chapter!!

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @roosterforme @pinkdaisies9285 @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @mygyn @angelbabyyy99 @86laura11 @shanimallina87 @floydsglasses @jostan456 @kmc1989 @dempy @its-the-pilot @mrsevans90 @purelyfiction @nouis-bum

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#top gun maverick #jake seresin #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman smut #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin smut #Jake and Stormy #sacred new beginnings #snb

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