#I have a plot and a summary and everything!
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summer's golden haze - chapter two
pairing: lando norris x reader
summary: backyard barbecues, the local market, and an unexpected discovery that has you wondering what exactly you may have just gotten yourself into. (5k)
warnings: angst (this early on, i know i'm sorry but it's for the plot i promise <3), lando and max f bickering like an old married couple
a/n: she's here!!!! sorry it took a little longer than expected but i hope you all enjoy this chapter :) pls feel free to come chat in my asks if you want to, i'd love to hear what everyone think about it so far!
previous chapter | masterlist
“Are these guys rich or something?”
Camille voices exactly the thought running through your mind as you roll to a stop to the address Lando had texted you yesterday, gawking out at the sprawling acreage in front of you.
You peer at the impressive villa through the windshield, taking in everything with baited breath. She’s absolutely right.
This house has to be two, if not three times the size of the one you’re all staying at, and that’s just what you can see so far. Vines bursting with colorful flowers crawl up white stone walls, curling around trellises of even more foliage, shutters on huge windows. There’s even a massive fountain in the middle of the courtyard, pristine marble, spewing crystal clear water in streams.
It’s a classic old money countryside villa—worth millions, you assume, not even taking in the gathering of vintage and expensive sports cars parked along the cobblestone driveway. You suddenly feel so, so small compared to the extravagance of just the exterior of the place.
Who are these people?
A guy with brown curls similar to Lando’s pulls open the door when you ring the bell, in the middle of yelling something at someone further inside the house, before turning his gaze on you all. His face lights up in recognition at the sight of you. “Oh, hey, you’re the girl Lando won’t shut up about! I’m Max, but I’m sure he’s told you all about me, hasn’t he?”
So this is Max. Lando’s told you a little about him, but mainly just funny stories. You wonder if Max knows his best friend is going around telling girls he’s just met about the time Max walked into a glass sliding door.
“A little bit, not much. It’s nice to put a face to the name though!” You say politely.
Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head in faux disappointment. He and Lando must be close. “I’m the best part of his life, and he doesn’t think to share it! What a knob. Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourselves at home!”
He ushers you all inside, leading you through the house and out huge double French doors leading to the backyard. The rest of their group sits on couches gathered around a stone fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting amongst themselves until they see you all coming. Max does the introductions between your two groups, but there’s one person missing. The one person you were looking forward to seeing again is nowhere to be found.
Max must notice how your eyes search for Lando, because he grins knowingly. “He’ll be out in a bit. Work called.”
“Oh, what does he do?” Samira chimes in. You fight the urge to throw a stone at her, because you know what she’s doing. She’s getting information on Lando because you haven’t got the guts to do it yourself yet.
“Has he not told you yet?” Max raises a brow, taking a sip of his drink. When you shake your head, he presses his lips together, like he’s debating whether or not to tell you himself. “Yeah, sorry, I think I’m gonna stay out of this one. He gets pissy when I meddle with his budding relationships.”
Budding relationship. Your face flames hot at the insinuation, but Samira takes it in stride, raising a skeptical brow.
“What, is he in the mafia or something?”
“‘Course not, that’s ridiculous. Pretty boy like him, he’d never make it in the mafia,” Max snorts. “No, he’s…look, it’s not really my place to say. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.”
Lando materializes from inside at that very moment, brows furrowed. There’s a tic going off in his jaw and he looks a little pissed off about something, but as soon as he looks up and sees that there’s company, he composes himself in a split second.
“Hey, guys!” He chirps, hand raising in a wave. He makes his way over to where you all are, plopping down in the empty spot beside you without hesitation. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for the invite,” Maren replies, ever the polite one. “And the coffee yesterday.”
Max makes an offended noise from the back of his throat at his friend. “You bought them coffee yesterday? Where was mine? You never buy me coffee.”
“Mate, you don’t even drink coffee!”
“Maybe I would if you bought it for me!”
The two boys continue to bicker with each other in the same way all evening, which leads you to believe this is just how they are with one another. It gives Lando another dimension in your mind, and you like it.
There are a handful of common interests amongst your friends and Lando’s, ones that spark conversation immediately. As the night goes on, it feels like you’ve all been friends for a while, and you’re glad. Part of you was worried things would be awkward between everyone, but thankfully that isn’t the case.
It passes the time quicker than you expect. Soon enough it’s nearing midnight and you’re close to nodding off onto Lando’s shoulder, fighting to stay awake and looped into the ongoing conversation despite the sleep threatening to overtake you.
It certainly doesn’t help that he exudes warmth from where you’ve wound up pressed against each other on the small couch. You turn your head to look at him, to take in the little details of him. The angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. The smattering of moles across his face and neck.
One wayward curl hangs over his forehead, and you want to reach out, brush it away. You don’t think you’re quite at that stage of comfort with each other yet, but then he tears his attention away from the rest of the group and meets your gaze with what you can only describe as pure fondness dripping from his lazy grin.
“You alright?” He says softly, shifting his body to face you a little more.
You nod, because you’re more than alright. For the first time in a while, everything feels just the way it should be. “Are you?”
“Hm?” Lando replies noncommittally, sipping his drink. “Fine, why?”
“Earlier, after your phone call, you seemed…upset. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to see if everything was alright.”
“Oh, that? Nah, that was nothing, just my boss. Wanted to talk work stuff, but I wasn’t feeling it, y’know?” He shrugs. It feels like there’s more to what he’s saying, but you don’t want to push too hard. You’re still familiarizing yourself with him. “You’re sweet to check on me, though.”
“Okay. But if you, um, if you need to talk or anything, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Lando traces a finger briefly over the thin strap of your dress, just over your shoulder, before dropping his chin into his palm. You already know he’s about to change the subject. Involuntarily, you shiver at his touch, and he definitely notices, because he suddenly looks a little smug.
“Pretty dress,” He hums, tilting his head.
You weren't trying to make a good impression on Lando, but you weren't exactly not trying, if that makes sense. It doesn't really make sense to you, but you’d gone for cute but comfy with a dress you’d borrowed, hoping it says you’d made an effort, but not too much of one.
Suddenly you can’t remember what you were just thinking about not being at a certain stage of comfort with one another. Is it weird that you're secretly pleased he liked it enough to mention it?
“It’s not mine,” You say softly. Lando lets out a noise of question. “I borrowed it from Maren.”
“Ah. Well, you should definitely get one for yourself then. It’s a nice color on you.”
You want to say thank you, or really just say anything at all, but the moment your gaze flicks back up to his, you’re lost in his eyes again. Everything around you blurs into the background until it feels like it’s just the two of you. You’re teetering on the edge of something, and fuck, it would be so easy to just go over. To let yourself fall and fall and fall into his waiting arms at the bottom.
Suddenly you hear your own voice in your head.
Don’t get attached.
Clearing your throat, you pull back from Lando as smooth as you can manage with him muddling up your brain like this. “It’s late. We should get going,” You say, a tad louder than necessary.
“She’s right,” Camille chimes in, taking note of the slight urgency in your tone. “We’ve got a guided hike in the morning—sunrise, can you believe it?”
Lando’s mouth dips into a tiny frown for a moment, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. He nods understandingly. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.”
You all say your goodbyes and thank you’s, to which the boys wholeheartedly agree you should all do this again sometime before you part ways.
Lando trails behind a bit like he’s unsure, but catches up to you quickly on the way out, shoulder bumping against yours lightly as you fall into step with each other. His hand brushes yours and lingers a little, pinkies almost intertwining.
“Tonight was nice,” He says casually.
“Yeah, it was,” You agree, bobbing your head.
“Would you—I dunno, maybe want to hang out again?”
“With you guys? ‘Course we would, I’m sure the girls would love to.” You smile, casting a glance at your friends. They’ve all coincidentally already gotten into the car, but if you squint hard enough you can see them gawking at Lando and yourself through the windshield.
How very not subtle of them.
Lando rocks on the balls of his feet almost nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “No, I meant, like…just the two of us.”
“You mean, like, alone?”
“A date. I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” He blurts, nose scrunching. “And failing miserably apparently.”
“Oh!” You feel your face burn hot, yet you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried. You’re about to take him up on the offer, but before you can say a word, another voice pops into the conversation.
“Yes! She says yes! Whatever you’re asking, her answer is yes!” Samira yells through the window enthusiastically, muffled through the glass but still very audible.
Neither you nor Lando can stop the laughs that escape your mouths, especially when you turn around and all three girls are shooting you excited thumbs ups.
“Guess that’s settled then,” You giggle, turning back to face him.
“It’s a date.” He pushes forward, catching you by surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. As cliche as it sounds, the touch of his lips against your skin, although fleeting, sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. “I’ll text you later to plan, yeah? Get home safe.”
He waits for you to pull around the circular driveway, and as his waving form gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, a glimmer of hope worms its way through you.
In the back of your mind, you know you should keep it in check. This could be totally casual. A short summer fling that won’t hurt anyone no matter how it ends. But maybe, just maybe, it could turn into something more.
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Your schedules don't end up giving you a free afternoon together until a few days later, though you come to realize it only makes you look forward to seeing Lando again even more.
You're supposed to be meeting him at the local market in the center of town at half past one, but you find yourself there early, wanting to get a lay of the land before he gets there.
Evidently Lando had the same idea, because you spot him within the first few steps into the open air marketplace, squatting next to a stand with crates and buckets of bright flowers. He’s already got a bouquet clutched in his hands, but still he browses through the different bunches.
“Flowers for Max?” You joke.
Lando shoots to his feet so fast he nearly hits his head on the lightbulb hanging above, only managing to miss it by mere inches as he startles at the sudden voice. When he realizes it’s just you, he snorts with laughter. “He wishes! They’re for you, actually.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you,” He says teasingly. You don’t even know what to say. Flowers on the first date might be normal, yet nobody’s ever done it for you before. You’re touched, but he must take your silence as something else, because his smile drops the tiniest bit. “Unless you see something you like better? I can still put these back.”
You study the flowers he’s picked out already. A little on the smaller side, it boasts a beautiful mix of both soft and brighter colors while still being simple—it’s exactly the sort of thing you would’ve chosen if you were buying flowers for yourself. “They’re perfect.”
He pays for the flowers and passes them over to you with the biggest smile on his face, one that grows even bigger when you tuck them carefully into the crook of your arm after giving the delicate blossoms a sniff.
You notice the camera hanging around his neck at that moment, despite knowing close to nothing about golf, you do know a thing or two about photography. “Golfer and photographer? Impressive.”
“Amateur at best.”
“Oh, I’m sure you're just being modest.”
“Not even a little bit. I just enjoy taking pictures of things I like.”
He swings around to face you fully, bringing the camera up to his eye and pausing only a second to make sure you're in focus before snapping a photo of you. The shutter clicks twice before you have the sense to hold up a hand out in front of you, a surprised laugh spilling from your mouth. Even then he grins, takes another one before lowering the camera. "What, you don't like having your photo taken?"
“I’m just not very photogenic!”
Lando scoffs immediately, shooting you a pointed look. “That is such a lie.”
“I probably just broke your fancy expensive camera,” You joke.
“We’ll just have to wait til I get it developed and see. I think it’ll turn out wonderful.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“I’ll buy you dinner. If I’m right, then…you let me buy you dinner.”
You let out a noise of surprise. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair, does it? You’d have to buy me dinner either way.”
“I can think of worse things than taking a pretty girl out for a nice meal.” His words take you by surprise, but judging by the smug grin on his face, Lando takes pride in eliciting a reaction from you. “Shall we?” And just like that, he’s sauntering off down the path like he didn’t just leave you at a loss for words, pep in his step even as he turns around to shoot you a roguish smile. “You coming or what?”
You push aside the fluttering in your chest, giving your head an amused shake before catching up with him. It’s cute that he thinks he’s funny. Even cuter that he seems rather eager to take you out on a second date before the first one has even started.
The two of you wander through the market aimlessly, stopping here and there at various stalls to have a look around. If you had the means, you’d buy everything you see. You wind up picking up some gorgeous looking fruit and a bottle of locally pressed wine, a few small souvenirs for your family back home, but the most important thing you buy isn’t even for you.
Lando had lingered at a stall selling handmade jewelry early on, seemingly interested in a woven bracelet of blues and whites, but didn't pick it up. Part of you wonders why, but it sparks an idea in your head.
You tug at Lando’s arm lightly, smiling guiltily when he turns to look at you. “I think I left my phone at that fruit stand a few stalls back.”
“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, you muppet,” He chides, shaking his head fondly. “C’mon, let’s find it.”
“No, I can get it. Why don’t you find us something good for lunch? I’m starving.”
“Are you sure?” Lando cocks his head, shoulder bumping against yours. “I don’t mind.”
“I’ll be right back,” You promise. To sweeten the deal, you make the bold move of pressing a kiss to his cheek. He freezes under your touch, but you pass it off as him not expecting it and being taken by surprise. “Two minutes, okay? Maybe less.”
As soon as you confirm he isn’t paying any attention to you, you slip back through the crowd, finding the same stall and buying the bracelet he’d been looking at. You tuck it safely into your pocket, quickly making your way back to Lando before he realizes you’ve been gone long and comes looking for you.
“All good?” He asks upon noticing you reappear by his side.
You wiggle your phone in the air. “Never better. What's for lunch?”
Lando grins happily, reciting the spiel that the very friendly older man at the food stand gave to him when he’d decided on the delicious looking food. Sure, maybe he stumbles over his pronunciation a little bit, but you find his giggled embarrassment sweet.
You find a semi-secluded bench a little jaunt away to enjoy your food, and you do enjoy it. You think it might be one of the best things you’ve ever had, and when you tell Lando, he looks pleasantly surprised. As you continue to savor every bite, Lando’s eyes light up with amusement, so much so that you wonder what’s suddenly got him all smiling big like this.
“What?” You say incredulously.
He gestures to the lower part of his face. “You’ve got a little…”
Mortified, you mirror his actions on your own face, searching for the food you’ve somehow gotten smudged on your chin. After a few tries that have him shaking his head, you whine, “Help me, please?”, to which he obliges with a soft chuckle. He reaches out, thumb rubbing at the corner of your mouth briefly.
This moment almost seems too intimate, but then again, so have a lot of moments between the two of you. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve still got something on your face, but then his gaze flicks down to your lips again almost imperceptibly, and you have an inkling of what’s about to happen.
“Did you get it?” You ask softly. You’re not sure why you break the silence, but it's definitely not because you don’t want him to kiss you. If you think about it, you’ve wanted Lando to kiss you this whole time.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got it," He replies. His hand lingers, long fingers splaying flat under the curve of your jaw now. You surprise yourself by shifting forward slightly, as if encouraging Lando to close the gap. He leans in closer and closer still, and your eyes fall shut on their own accord, heartbeat hammering against your rib cage.
You nearly melt the moment his lips touch yours, held up only by the firm grasp of his hand cupping your face. It’s a little awkward with the food in between the two of you blocking you from pushing closer to him, but you make it work, reaching over it to wrap your fingers around Lando’s forearm. You feel like you need it to ground yourself, because holy shit, you’re kissing him.
Well, more like he’s kissing you, because you’re definitely not the one leading the way. Lando kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by how you feel weak in the knees when you’re not even standing, he does know exactly what he’s doing.
You’re falling, falling, falling, getting lost in him, until—
“Wait, hang on,” He breathes, pulling away. Your eyes flutter open in an almost dazed sort of way, focusing on him in hopes of finding him in the same state, but all you’re met with is…guilt? Sadness? Shame? Maybe a mixture of everything, you’re not sure. All you know is that it has your heart plummeting in your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Everything hits you at once, and suddenly you’re crashing back down to reality. Lando thinks kissing you was a mistake. You were so sure he liked you back, sure enough to go on a date with him, and now here you are with egg on your face, feeling unbelievably stupid. Hurt.
“I’m gonna—I have to go,” You mumble, scrambling to your feet. You don’t even have an excuse prepared, you just need to get out of here, get away from Lando before you spontaneously combust from the sheer embarrassment.
His hand encircles your wrist before you can make it even a step away.
“No, no, don’t! Please, just let me…let me explain. I promise things will all make sense in a second, if you’ll just hear me out,” He says pleadingly. Despite your better judgment, you sit back down, expression guarded. Lando blows out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “Look, I like you. I really like you, and I wish things were as simple as that, but there’s things I’ve not told you. Things that, if you knew, you might not want to be with me.”
You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, burying your burning face into your hands with a muffled groan. “Oh my god, you are in the mafia, aren’t you?”
“The—what?” Lando blurts, sounding wildly confused. “No, I’m not, I’m not in the mafia. Are you mad? I’m a Formula 1 driver!”
You crack one eye open, then the other. “Formula 1.” You repeat, disbelieving. “Like, the racing thing?”
He nods enthusiastically, tells you everything—how his childhood dream turned into a career, how he gets to travel all around the world doing what he loves. The fame, the lifestyle, the opportunities he’s worked so hard for, all while sounding entirely humble and grateful for everything and everyone who’ve gotten him to where he is today.
It’s impressive, to say the least. The fact that he’s still fairly young and has already accomplished more than what some people have in a whole lifetime. Then he gets to how the chaos that doing what he does at the level he does it at wreaks havoc on other parts of his life, and you feel a wave of sympathy roll over you.
The tradeoff for all that success is not getting to have a normal life in almost every aspect, and given the downward set of his brow as he tells you about it, this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation with someone.
“It makes being in a relationship…difficult, is the best way I can describe it. I’m never in one place more than a week most times, and the whole time zones thing makes it harder too. And after these two weeks are up, I’m already off to somewhere else, jumping right back into the second half of the season and hitting the ground running.”
Realization hits you like a truck at this point, and you have to fight the urge to laugh out loud. Of course Lando is who he is. Of course you had to form a connection with someone with a life as complicated and as far away from your own as possible, someone who couldn’t be in a normal relationship even if he wanted to.
“I wish it were different, but I just—I wanted you to know what you might be getting into if we…” He trails off, but you know what he means. If we want to get involved with each other. If we want to be together.
“So like, long distance, but infinitely harder.” You’re doing your best to put a light spin on the massive amount of new information you’ve just acquired, but you’re barely managing to process it all, let alone even think about what it would be like to date someone as well known as Lando.
“Yeah, something like that,” He says softly, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. “It’s—well, it’s a lot of baggage for anyone to have to deal with. Lots of eyes and ears, pretty public. Not really your cup of tea, I’ve noticed.”
He’s right. You’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, preferring to fly under the radar. Blend into the background. And you hate to say it, but knowing all of what he’s just told you changes things. You don’t think you can handle being thrust into the public eye, and it makes you feel like the most selfish person in the world to walk away from him just because of who he happens to be.
Your life would be forever altered, your sense of privacy and security gone, and that isn’t something you want to compromise. You’re comfortable being nobody significant. With Lando, that would change, no matter how many measures you take to make sure it doesn’t.
As much as you’ve come to like him—and you really like him—it’s just not something you can see yourself being fully okay with.
“I’m so sorry, Lando,” You say quietly. He just smiles sadly, like he already knew it was coming, and you can't help but think about how many relationships—platonic or romantic—that he's lost out on because of his status. The thought alone makes you feel even worse. “I like you too, but I can’t—I don’t think I can be what you want me to be. It’s not me, it’s not the way I can live my life.”
“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t got a reason to be,” He murmurs, thumb rubbing across your knuckles comfortingly. “Knew it was too good to be true, didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry,” You say again, hoping that Lando knows you truly mean it. “I wish it were different, but—”
Lando shakes his head, interrupting before you can grasp for any other ways to apologize. He squeezes your hand reassuringly again. “Hey. It’s alright, I promise. I’d never ask anyone to do something they aren’t comfortable with. Especially not you.”
Even when he’s sad, he’s still so thoughtful. It would take a different kind of awful monster not to want to be with him. Apparently that monster is you.
You wish you were someone else, someone who could take huge changes in stride and never miss a step, but you’re not. Someone who knows what they want and goes for it—who knows who they want and doesn’t let anything get in their way.
Unfortunately, you’re not that kind of person.
“What do we do now?”
Lando drops your hand to run his fingers through his curls, down to the back of his neck sheepishly. “Dunno about you, but I’ve—d’you think there’s any chance we can still be friends? I really do enjoy spending time with you lot, we all do.”
“Friends would be nice,” You say softly. It feels strange to agree with him so wholeheartedly.
Maybe it’ll be awkward between the two of you, maybe you won’t even be able to sit next to each other with what’s happened today, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much. The only thought running through your mind is that you don’t want to lose Lando, even as just a friend.
You’ve gotten attached.
The bracelet you’d bought Lando burns a hole through your pocket. It would be weird to give it to him now, after you’d just turned him down, but you can’t exactly just return it either. You don’t really want to.
Maybe it won’t go to him, but you’re sure you’ll find something to do with it someday.
The girls are waiting in the living room when you finally make your way home, gathered on the sofa with identical innocent smiles like you hadn’t seen them with their heads poked through the curtains. Samira bounces off the cushions with what you can only describe as a gleeful cackle to grab your flowers, showing them off to the other two like a game show host before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the center of their blanket pile.
You know they're expecting good news and you wish you could give it to them, but you can’t.
“So??? How’d it go?”
“He got her flowers, obviously it went well!”
“Okay, spill, now,” Camille presses, easing the bouquet out of Samira’s hands and setting it on the coffee table. “What’s he like, what’d you do—”
“When’s your second date?” chimes in Maren excitedly. The other two nod their vigorous agreement.
“Lando’s amazing,” You sigh, letting yourself fall back against the plush pillows. “He’s super sweet and really funny, we walked around and looked at all the vendors, and then we had lunch and talked for ages, and…there won’t be a second date.”
“What? That’s impossible, you guys were like, made for each other!”
You sigh, rub at a flower petal that’s fallen away from the bouquet. “It’s complicated. I don’t—I’m not ready to get into all of it again this soon, but long story short, our lives are just too different. Being with him would mean compromising things I’m just not ready to lose right now.”
If any of them wants to push for a better explanation, and you know they do, they refrain from doing so. They know you’ll tell them when you’re ready.
But even Samira can tell you’re not quite as okay as you insist you are, and she’s been rooting for you extra hard. She leans her head onto your shoulder, squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You did what was best for you, and that’s all that matters.”
“We agreed to still be friends, so we can still hang out with the guys and stuff like that, but—I mean, yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You don’t think you sound very convincing at all, but it’s the bed you've made, you’ve got to lay in it. “I just don’t really want to talk about it right now, but it's fine. I'm fine.”
It has to be. You have to be. You’ve made sure of it.
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#lando norris#lando norris x reader#ln4#ln4 x reader#lando norris x fem!reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris series#f1 fic
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♡ Love in the Times of Charles | MV1
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]
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Summary: Y/N and Max are on a stealth mission to keep their relationship under wraps. But with rumors swirling faster than a car at Monza, Charles's overprotective instincts kick in—cue the concerned brother alarms! Meanwhile, the boys offer about as much help as a flat tire, with plans so ridiculous they might just need a pit crew. Will Y/N and Max dodge Charles’s protective wrath, or will this love story end up in the wall? Strap in; it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!
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A/N: just wanted to ask if anyone feels annoyed or don't like it when smau fics have story parts? like I don't want to do the confessions and some of the things on text and I wanna write about some of the behind the scenes too and the only way to do that is to write it in a story format but apparently some people don't like that? like what is you guy's consensus on this?
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Part 5 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series:
y/n_leclerc posted a photo:
Caption: Thought coffee was gonna be the most stable thing in my life but even that got replaced by matcha ☕️💔
Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 420,876 others.
Comments:
maxverstappen1:
Did the coffee leave you for someone else too?
↪y/n_leclerc :
At least coffee doesn’t need a grid penalty to get close to me.
↪danielricciardo:
This roast is hotter than the coffee 👀
↪charles_leclerc:
Don't make me call FIA on both of you.
↪y/n_leclerc :
Charles, pls, I’m still recovering from your last safety briefing.
↪landonorris:
Max back to roasting? Is this the plot twist we’ve been waiting for?
user1:
Why are they roasting each other again? What happened to 'Max is definitely into her'?!
user2:
THE FLIRTING ERA IS OVER?? MAX AND Y/N ROAST ERA INCOMING 🚨
user3:
WE NEED ANSWERS. WHY ISN’T MAX FLIRTING ANYMORE??
DMs between Max and Y/N:
maxverstappen1:
Still thinking about our coffee date this morning. You looked way too good for just a casual date. 😏
y/n_leclerc:
Lol please, I literally rolled out of bed and threw on a hoodie. But I’m glad my ‘effortless chic’ fooled you. 😉
maxverstappen1:
Fooled me? No chance. I knew exactly what you were doing. Strategic as always. 😌
y/n_leclerc:
Strategic? I just wanted caffeine, Max. But if you’re calling my bedhead a ‘strategy’... sure, I’ll take it.
maxverstappen1:
Whatever you call it, it worked. Couldn’t stop staring at you.
y/n_leclerc:
Max. You’re so sappy today, what happened to your 'too cool' attitude?
maxverstappen1:
That went out the window the moment you started dating me. Now, I’m just soft. For you. 🥲
y/n_leclerc:
Soft Verstappen? I never thought I'd live to see the day.
maxverstappen1:
Only for you. Don’t tell the others, though. I have a reputation to uphold.
y/n_leclerc:
Your secret’s safe with me. But honestly, I’m loving whatever this is. Us, I mean.
maxverstappen1:
Same. This whole 'flirting in public and pretending everything’s normal' thing? Chef’s kiss. Watching people lose their minds over it is the best part.
y/n_leclerc:
It’s like we’re living rent-free in their heads. The comments are gold. Especially the ones trying to figure out what the hell is going on with us.
maxverstappen1:
Like the one saying we’re secretly married already? That one almost made me spit out my coffee. 😂
y/n_leclerc:
I saw that! They’ve got theories for days. The one where we’re 'just friends' but you’ve been flirting for a whole week straight? Love that for us.
maxverstappen1:
Right? Like, I was literally flirting non-stop, and now they think we’re back to picking fights with each other like nothing happened. 😂
y/n_leclerc:
We're driving them crazy and honestly, I’m having the time of my life watching it.
maxverstappen1:
Same. But I kinda miss not having to hold back on the flirting. 😏
y/n_leclerc:
Oh yeah? How would you even flirt if you didn’t have to hold back, Verstappen?
maxverstappen1:
I’d take you somewhere nice. Like, I don’t know, a fancy restaurant maybe? 😎
y/n_leclerc:
Smooth. Are you asking me out again?
maxverstappen1:
Depends. Are you saying yes?
y/n_leclerc:
Let’s say I’m free… where are you taking me?
maxverstappen1:
Somewhere where you won’t be able to just wear a hoodie. Gotta dress up for this one. 😉
y/n_leclerc:
A challenge. I accept.
maxverstappen1:
Perfect. Friday night. I’ll pick you up.
y/n_leclerc:
Can’t wait. 😘
y/n_leclerc posted a photo:
Caption: Dinner for one but looking like a 10 ✨
Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.
Comments:
carmenmmundt:
You’re killing it! 💅 When’s our next girls' dinner??
↪y/n_leclerc:
Whenever you’re ready to throw George’s credit card on the line again. 💳😉
↪georgerussell63:
Excuse me, why is my financial ruin the theme of your dinners?
lilymhe:
Okay but where’s MY invite?? You look too good to be dining alone.
↪y/n_leclerc:
Lily, your absence was felt, the waiter asked where my better half was. 🥲
↪alex_albon:
Pretty sure he asked that because you flirted for a free dessert.
↪y/n_leclerc:
And it WORKED, Albono. That’s called strategy.
↪maxverstappen1:
Dinner for one? Weird, thought you’d be out there terrorizing other diners.
↪y/n_leclerc:
Terrorizing diners? Max, I’m not the one who scarfs food down like I’ve been starved for days.
↪maxverstappen1:
That’s called efficiency. You wouldn’t know, with how long you take to pick an outfit.
↪y/n_leclerc:
Efficiency? More like desperation. And excuse you, I picked this outfit in five minutes
↪danielricciardo:
Efficiency is just code for ‘I’m hungry and scared of forks.’
↪y/n_leclerc:
Daniel gets it. Max probably uses chopsticks like they’re drumsticks.
↪maxverstappen1:
Bold of you to assume I even use utensils.
↪landonorris:
He just drinks soup straight from the bowl. Classy.
↪y/n_leclerc:
Honestly, that explains a lot.
↪charles_leclerc:
What is happening in these comments?? Also, Y/N, you look great but maybe stop tormenting Max in public?
↪y/n_leclerc:
He does that all by himself, Charles. I’m just here for moral support.
↪maxverstappen1:
Your moral support feels more like public humiliation.
↪y/n_leclerc:
You’d miss it if I stopped, Verstappen.
user4:
Y/N and Max fighting in the comments AGAIN, this is the content I live for.
user5:
Max is trying to pretend like he’s not impressed but we all know the truth.
user6:
Plot twist: Max was the one taking the picture at the restaurant.
alex_albon:
maxverstappen1 Why are you pretending you're not paying for that wine?
↪y/n_leclerc:
EWW who’d go to dinner with him??
↪maxverstappen1:
And yet, here you are, missing me at dinner.
↪y/n_leclerc:
Not as much as you miss your table manners.
user7:
"Max & Y/N: Endless banter, zero chill."
user8:
Y/N is out here eating fine dining alone while dragging Max in the comments, living the DREAM.
user9:
At this point, they should just get married and keep roasting each other forever.
user10:
Wasn’t Max all flirty in the last chapter? WHAT HAPPENED?!
user11:
Max flirting era is over 😭
user12:
Plot twist: Max and Y/N are in a secret relationship where they flirt by insulting each other.
y/n_leclerc posted a photo:
Caption: Monza weekend!! Supporting my favorite Ferrari boy, Charles! ❤️ Let’s get this Win!!
Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 320,456 others.
Comments:
charles_leclerc:
Let’s do this!
user13:
President of the Charles Leclerc fan club, reporting for duty.
user14:
As always, our queen is a Ferrari stan first.
user15:
She’s so loyal to Charles, I love it.
user16:
Imagine supporting a guy and then getting spotted at Red Bull later. Sis, pick a side!
user17:
Did anyone else see Y/N on the Red Bull side?? 👀 I smell drama.
landonorris:
Are you hyping Charles because you have to, or because you want to? Asking for Max.
user18:
Girl, why are there rumors you were seen near Red Bull? 👀
user19:
If I see Y/N at Red Bull again, I’m going full detective mode. Like, pick a lane!
user20:
MONZA DRAMA INCOMING 🚨 Did she swap allegiances?!
pierregasly:
Bet Max is gonna ‘conveniently’ miss this post.
↪y/n_leclerc:
He’s too busy finishing ahead of you to notice.
↪pierregasly:
Unnecessary.
maxverstappen1 posted a photo:
Caption: Calm before the storm. Let’s get it. 💪
Liked by charles_leclerc, y/n_leclerc, landonorris, and 420,876 others.
Comments:
y/n_leclerc:
Storm? More like a light drizzle with a 10% chance of embarrassment.
↪maxverstappen1:
Says the girl who can’t walk in heels without tripping over nothing.
↪georgerussell63:
This is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever seen.
↪alex_albon:
George said what we’re all thinking.
user21:
They fight like an old married couple but without the actual marriage.
f1_gossips tweeted:
SPOTTED: Y/N Leclerc cheering for Charles at Monza, but sources claim she was ALSO seen at the Red Bull garage earlier. Trouble in Ferrari paradise? Or is Y/N just mixing allegiances? Stay tuned for more.
Comments:
user22:
This girl is living her best double agent life.
user23:
Y/N is just here for the drama and we love it.
user24:
I’m convinced she’s trolling us all. A queen of chaos.
user25:
She’s doing what we all want to do—have a Ferrari brother and a Red Bull ‘friend’ 😂.
user26:
Ferrari fans about to lose it 😂
user27:
Plot twist: she’s there for the energy drinks.
user28:
She’s definitely with Max. No other explanation.
user29:
Charles is gonna crash into Max out of pure sibling rage, I can feel it.
user30:
Y/N in the Red Bull garage?! Someone call Charles, this is a scandal!
user31:
This is the chaos I signed up for. I NEED MORE TEA.
user32:
Not Y/N being Ferrari’s biggest fan and then sneaking over to Red Bull. Iconic.
user33:
Ferrari by day, Red Bull by night?
user34:
She’s playing both teams and we stan.
user45:
Charles has no idea his sister is secretly living a double life.
user36:
How long before Charles throws Max into a wall, tho?
y/n_leclerc posted a photo:
Caption: CHARLES WINS AT MONZA! I TOLD Y’ALL 🔥 FORZA FERRARI, FORZA LECLERC 🚀❤️
Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 520,439 others.
Comments:
charles_leclerc:
Best fan out there ❤️ Grazie mille!
user37:
She’s literally the president of the Leclerc fan club.
user38:
Low-key love how Max isn’t even on her radar right now.
user39:
I give it 10 minutes before someone spots her with Max and the chaos starts.
user40:
This is why Y/N is the ultimate sister.
user41:
She’s living her best life as Ferrari royalty, honestly.
user42:
I’d celebrate Charles winning too, if I didn’t also think she was spotted on the Red Bull side.
user43:
Wait, no, seriously, can someone confirm if she was actually with Max at Red Bull today?
f1_gossips tweeted:
BREAKING: Charles Leclerc wins the Italian Grand Prix in stunning fashion! Meanwhile, sources at the post-race afterparty spotted Y/N Leclerc getting cozy with none other than Max Verstappen. Are the rumors true? Check out this pic below!
Comments:
user44:
Bigfoot and UFOs have more clarity than this pic, but I can still see Max.
user45:
Y/N said Ferrari win, but Max is the prize.
user46:
She went from Ferrari girl to Red Bull real quick after that win, huh?
user47:
Charles won the race, but Max won Y/N.
user48:
Y/N’s living her best ‘support Ferrari but flirt with Red Bull’ life.
user49:
Blurry or not, I KNOW that’s Max. The man’s silhouette is unmistakable.
user50:
Y/N and Max cuddling up after Charles' win?? Ferrari fans, we okay??
user51:
Monza afterparty tea is always the spiciest.
user52:
I can’t believe she’s out here celebrating with Max after her brother won.
user53:
Y/N’s like, ‘Congrats, Charles, but I gotta go check on my Red Bull guy real quick.’
user54:
This girl’s got her Ferrari heart and Red Bull eyes 👀.
user55:
Plot twist: Max and Y/N are secretly dating and just troll us all online for fun.
f1_gossips tweeted:
MORE DRAMA: After celebrating Charles’ win, Y/N Leclerc was allegedly spotted again at the Red Bull garage. The blurred lines between Ferrari and Red Bull have fans in a frenzy. Is Y/N really just here this weekend to ‘support her brother,’ or is something else brewing between her and Max Verstappen?
Comments:
user56:
I’m convinced she’s playing us all for fun.
user57:
Y/N’s trolling everyone, and honestly, I’m here for it.
user58:
I don’t care who she’s with, I just need answers!!
user59:
I swear Y/N’s gonna give me a heart attack with these mixed signals.
user60:
Charles winning, Y/N maybe dating Max, and blurry gossip pics—F1 drama is at an all-time high.
user61:
I’m starting to think Y/N is the real mastermind of the entire F1 circus.
user62:
Next race, Charles is taking Max out for ‘unrelated’ reasons. Bet.
DMs between Charles and Y/N:
charles_leclerc:
Y/N. WHAT IS THIS I’M SEEING ABOUT YOU AND MAX AT THE MONZA AFTERPARTY?!
y/n_leclerc:
Charles, relax. What are you even talking about?
charles_leclerc:
RELAX? I’ve seen the pictures! Cozying up with Max? The one guy you literally fight with all the time? What the hell is going on?!
y/n_leclerc:
Oh my god. First of all, I would rather fight a swarm of bees than 'cozy up' with Max. You really think I’d be into that? Insufferable, annoying, always-has-something-to-say Max?
charles_leclerc:
The pictures don’t lie, Y/N. You were standing way too close. What were you doing with him?!
y/n_leclerc:
We were arguing, obviously. You know that’s like our thing. Five minutes in the same room, and he’s already saying something dumb. I’m just trying to live my life, and he’s there, being all Max-y.
charles_leclerc:
Arguing? That’s it? You swear?!
y/n_leclerc:
Yes! We were literally just arguing. You know, me calling him a pain in the ass, him being all smug. Classic Max-and-Y/N content.
charles_leclerc:
Mon dieu, Y/N. You scared the hell out of me! The way these gossip pages were talking, I thought you two were about to get married or something. 😤
y/n_leclerc:
Married to Max? I’d rather shove my head in a tire wall. Relax, Charlie. Nothing is happening. It’s just Max being his annoying self, like usual.
charles_leclerc:
Okay, good. I don’t need that headache in my life. Gossip pages making a big deal out of nothing as always.
y/n_leclerc:
Yeah, chill out. Like I said, I’d rather throw myself into a DRS zone than let that happen. 😂
charles_leclerc:
Good. I thought I was going to have to block you from every race event if something was going on. Max Verstappen... ugh.
Groupchat: “The Snafu Society”
y/n_leclerc:
GUYS. WE HAVE A MASSIVE PROBLEM.
(sends screenshot of her convo with Charles)
What the hell am I supposed to do?? Charles is going to KILL me when he finds out I’m actually with Max and I lied about it!
lando.jpg:
Ohhhh, you are so screwed. 😂 Like, RIP Y/N. 💀 It was nice knowing you.
georgerussell63:
Big yikes. I’m sending flowers to your funeral. What’s your favorite color?
alex_albon:
Maybe you can tell him Max saved a kitten from a burning building? Or like… became a monk? You gotta soften the blow somehow. 🐱🔥
danielricciardo:
Tell him Max is actually a long-lost Leclerc cousin. Boom. Problem solved.
maxverstappen1:
EXCUSE ME?! A Leclerc cousin? Why am I suddenly part of the family? also that's incest?? 😂
y/n_leclerc:
I’m SERIOUS! He’s going to legit lose it! I’ve been stalling but… there’s no way out of this. What if he literally crashes into you on track, Max?? 😳
maxverstappen1:
Okay, calm down. He won’t crash into me… I hope. Maybe. Probably.
lando.jpg:
Definitely gonna crash into you. Like, 100%. F in the chat for Max.
danielricciardo:
New idea! Fake your own disappearance! Hide in a bunker until the season’s over. It’s flawless.
alex_albon:
Or just make Max wear a disguise next time you two are together. Like, put him in a Ferrari hat, maybe Charles won’t notice.
georgerussell63:
Ferrari hat? Genius. Max, you good with that?
maxverstappen1:
NO. I’m not wearing a Ferrari hat. 😤
y/n_leclerc:
This is NOT helping, you guys! Max, are you just sitting there being all calm about this?
maxverstappen1:
Look, we’ll figure it out. Worst case, I’ll just charm him with my winning personality.
lando.jpg:
Winning personality, Max? The only thing Charles is winning is the fistfight with you when he finds out. 😂
danielricciardo:
Tell him you’re pregnant. Just drop it like a bomb. He’ll be too shocked to kill Max.
y/n_leclerc:
EXCUSE ME? Daniel, you’re banned from giving advice.
alex_albon:
Seconded.
georgerussell63:
Honestly, Charles is probably already suspicious. But Max, maybe send him a fruit basket to soften him up? 'Thanks for not killing me—yet.' 🍍
maxverstappen1:
Guys… Let’s just stay calm. We’ll tell him soon, and everything will be fine. Right, Y/N?
y/n_leclerc:
Fine?! I’m about to be disowned!
lando.jpg:
Don’t worry. We’ll visit you in exile. 😂
maxverstappen1:
Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him if I have to. Just… try not to panic. It’s me. Charles likes me… kinda. Right?
y/n_leclerc:
You wish, Max. He’s gonna use you as a traffic cone.
danielricciardo:
Let’s be honest. If anyone’s gonna crash into Max, it’s gonna be Arthur, just for fun. 😂
y/n_leclerc:
Great. Now I’m even more stressed.
lando.jpg:
And I know the perfect way to destress! drinks on me when we go back to monaco
f1_gossips tweeted:
🚨 Monaco Scandal: Y/N Leclerc and Max Verstappen Caught Kissing! 🚨
Hold onto your racing helmets, folks, because the latest tea is HOT! 🔥 Forget everything you thought you knew about Y/N and Max’s so-called “rivalry,” because sources in Monaco just served up some serious tea! 🍵rumour has it that Y/N Leclerc and Max Verstappen were spotted not only getting cozy while waiting for an elevator, but actually kissing. Yes, you read that right—kissing. 😳
According to eyewitnesses, they looked all kinds of cozy—like, too close for two people who “can’t stand each other.” To make it even juicier, Max was overheard calling Y/N “Schatje” and “Liefje.” Yes, you read that right. Pet names. Dutch pet names. 😱
They weren’t exactly trying to hide it either, full-on PDA while waiting for the elevator at a fancy Monaco Bar. With Max's arms around Y/N and her hand on his chest, it's safe to say things are heating up faster than a Monaco track in July. Is this the confirmation we've all been waiting for? Are they finally going public? Fans are losing their minds, and we are here for it. 👀💋
#MaxYN #PlotTwistOfTheYear #ElevatorEscapade
Comments:
user63:
WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. Max calling Y/N schatje AND liefje?!? I’m screaming. 🚨😱
user64:
My man went from being jealous of the elevator guy to being the elevator guy himself
user65:
This is the enemies-to-lovers plot twist I didn’t know I needed.
user66:
If Charles finds out, he’s gonna drive Max off the track. 😬
use67:
Okay but I bet they were arguing over who pressed the elevator button first.
user68:
What is miss girl’s obsession with elevators?!?!?
user69:
So Max is soft now? Pet names and everything? I’m unwell.
user70:
I swear this whole time they’ve been pretending to hate each other, and now they’re cuddling in elevators. Someone explain. 😩
user71:
WAIT THEY WERE KISSING?! I was not emotionally prepared for this news. 😳
user72:
So Max’s love language is Dutch pet names and y/n's is elevator kisses? I’m dying.
user73:
KISSING in MONACO? This just became the most iconic off-track moment of the year.
user74:
I can't believe Max Verstappen of all people is out here calling Y/N "schatje" in public. 💀
user75:
Charles is gonna lose it when he finds out his sister is locking lips with his biggest rival. 💀
user76:
Monaco’s about to get real awkward if Charles runs into them... just saying.
Y/N woke up to the sound of soft, rhythmic breathing beside her. Her head pounded, and she felt like someone had stuffed cotton in her mouth. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, and slowly realized where she was: in Max’s bed, in Max’s apartment, with Max’s arm thrown lazily over her waist, holding her like they hadn’t just gotten plastered the night before.
For a moment, she lay there, wrapped in the heavy warmth of his arm draped across her stomach, trying to remember exactly how they ended up in this position. Her head throbbed with the unmistakable ache of too many drinks and too many bad decisions.
Max stirred next to her, shifting slightly but keeping his arm around her like it was a reflex. Y/N turned her head to look at him, his face still half-buried in the pillow, hair messy and slightly wild, looking so annoyingly cute it made her stomach do a weird little flip.
“Morning, Schatje,” he mumbled without even opening his eyes.
Y/N snorted. "Wow, you’re really pulling out all the stops with the pet names this morning, huh? Wasn’t it ‘Liefje’ last night? I’m gonna need a Dutch dictionary just to keep up."
Max laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You should consider it. I’ve got a lot more where that came from. Besides, you’re cute when you’re all hungover and confused.”
Y/N groaned, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her face. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I feel like death.”
“Well, I think you look adorable,” Max replied, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She peeked out from under her arm, squinting at him. “You sure it’s not because your head is still spinning?”
“Maybe,” Max admitted, his smile growing. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Y/N giggled, poking his side. “You’re so full of it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
For a moment, they lay there in silence, enjoying the rare quietness of the morning. It was one of those rare, soft moments—no teasing, no sarcastic comments, just the two of them tangled together, wrapped in the warmth of each other.
“Why did we drink so much last night?” Y/N eventually asked, her voice muffled by Max’s chest.
“Because Lando dared us,” Max answered, sounding almost proud.
"Why do we listen to him?" Y/N groaned, her voice hoarse as she nuzzled deeper into Max’s chest.
Max chuckled, his voice still raspy with sleep. "Because he’s surprisingly persuasive for someone who looks like a lost child."
Y/N groaned again. “I’m never listening to that idiot again. We need to stop letting Lando be in charge of our nights.”
“I agree. Never let Lando dictate our fun again,” Max chuckled, shifting to press another kiss on her temple. “I’m officially banning him.”
“Good.” She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes for just a little bit longer. “I could stay like this forever.”
“Me too,” Max whispered softly.
She giggled, pulling the blanket up over her head to block out the sun. "I still feel like death though."
"Same." Max shifted slightly, brushing her hair away from her face. "But at least I’m dying next to you, Schatje."
"Please don’t," she grumbled, but she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. "Honestly, I blame you just as much as Lando. You were the one who said, ‘Let’s do tequila shots, it'll be fun!’"
"Because it was fun," Max shot back, smirking. "At least until we ended up making out in front of that elevator."
Y/N froze for a second before she groaned and threw a pillow over her face. "Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still embarrassed."
Max rolled onto his side to face her, pulling the pillow off her head. "Why? You didn’t seem embarrassed at the time," he teased. "In fact, I seem to remember you being very enthusiastic about it."
Y/N’s face turned red. "Okay, okay, shut up!"
"I’m just saying." Max winked at her, then stretched, looking way too good for someone who was supposed to be hungover. "You looked cute."
"Great," she muttered, rolling her eyes but smiling. "Now I’m cute and dead."
Max snickered, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. "If you’re dead, I’m dead too, because Lando definitely spiked those drinks."
"Speaking of Lando, I’m pretty sure I need to blacklist him from my life," Y/N said, stretching lazily. She reached over the side of the bed and found her phone buried in her pile of clothes. "Let me see if he’s alive."
As soon as her phone powered on, it exploded with notifications. Text after text, missed call after missed call, all from the boys…and her brothers.
"Oh no," Y/N whispered, her eyes wide. She stared at the screen, frozen in horror. "Oh no, no, no." She scrolled through the chaos and saw that her brothers were leading the charge in spamming her. There were also dozens of missed calls, mostly from Charles, Arthur, and—“Why is Lorenzo involved? What the hell did we do last night?!”
Max, who was halfway to the bathroom, turned back around. "What’s wrong?"
Y/N held up her phone, showing him the sheer volume of missed calls. "Max, we’re screwed. We are so screwed."
Max’s eyebrows furrowed. "Who’s been calling?"
"Everyone. All the boys. My brothers. Even Lorenzo. And Arthur. This is a nightmare," Y/N said, her voice rising in panic.
Max blinked. "Lorenzo? That’s… that’s not good."
"No shit it’s not good!" Y/N shrieked, scrolling through her messages frantically. "I’m being hunted down by my entire family!"
Max grabbed his own phone from the nightstand, but it was dead. He shrugged. "I guess ignorance is bliss, huh?"
Y/N groaned, clutching her phone like it might explode. "You’re not helping, Max!"
She scrolled through the texts, all of which ranged from "CALL ME NOW!" to "What the hell is going on?" from Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo. Max peered over her shoulder, his brow furrowing.
"Okay, maybe it’s not that bad—" he started, but Y/N’s phone rang, cutting him off.
"Lando," Y/N muttered. "This idiot better have some answers." She answered the call. "Lando, what the hell did you do?!"
"Me?!" Lando’s voice screeched through the phone. "This isn’t my fault! I wasn’t the one making out with Max in front of an elevator!"
Y/N slapped her forehead, and Max burst into laughter. "Oh my God, Lando, seriously?!"
"Yes! Seriously!" Lando was practically hyperventilating on the other end of the call. "Photos got leaked from last night! You two were caught being all cozy, and now everyone knows. Charles called me at like 6 AM, and I thought I was gonna die. Arthur called next, and then Lorenzo—LORENZO! I had to confess, Y/N! I caved under pressure!"
Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God, Lando!"
"I’m a dead man! You’re a dead woman! We’re all dead!" Lando rambled, his voice climbing an octave with each sentence. "Charles is pissed, Arthur is even worse, and Lorenzo…Lorenzo is probably getting a hitman involved. And now they’re all at your apartment waiting for you!"
"Wait, what? They’re at my apartment?!" Y/N shrieked.
"Yes!" Lando cried. "They’re waiting for you, Y/N! They want answers!"
Max, who had been listening in, leaned closer to the phone. "What exactly are they mad about?"
"MAX! Oh God, Max, you’re so dead," Lando screeched. "They saw the pictures of you two—holding hands, kissing, being all ‘Schatje’ this and ‘Liefje’ that. And now they want to know why no one told them."
Y/N buried her face in her hands. "This is a nightmare."
Lando continued rambling, clearly losing his grip on reality. "Charles was so mad, he almost broke his phone when I told him I knew about you two. And Arthur? He’s got murder in his eyes. Murder, Y/N. I’m not even safe!. Arthur called me ‘an accomplice,’ and I’m honestly afraid for my life right now.”
Y/N exchanged a horrified look with Max. "We’re all doomed," she muttered.
Max, surprisingly calm, shrugged. "I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?"
"Death, Max," Y/N replied, her voice shaking with disbelief. "The worst is death."
Lando piped up again. "You guys need to come up with a plan. Fast. Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo are about to storm the place like it’s a medieval siege."
Y/N was starting to spiral. "I need a plan! I need an escape route! I can’t face them like this!"
Max rubbed her back soothingly. "Relax, Schatje. We’ll go to your apartment, deal with them, and explain everything."
"Max, they’re gonna skin you alive," Y/N said, glaring at him. "You really think they’ll just let this slide? You’re dating their sister."
"And I’ll just tell them that I’ve got good intentions." Max smirked. "Maybe we can distract them with snacks."
"Lorenzo doesn’t do snacks," Y/N deadpanned.
Lando was still panicking on the other end. "I’m staying far away from this. You’re on your own!"
Y/N groaned. "Lando, you’re supposed to help!"
"I can’t help you if I’m dead, Y/N!" Lando whined. "I’m too pretty to die young!"
Max sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, let’s just get this over with."
Y/N looked at him, both amused and horrified. "You’re way too calm for someone who’s about to be slaughtered by my family."
Max winked at her. "I’ve got my secret weapon: my irresistible charm."
Lando’s voice piped up again. “If I don’t hear from you in the next 24 hours, I’ll assume you’ve both been murdered by Charles.”
"Yeah, you’re definitely gonna need more than that," Y/N muttered.
Lando interrupted one last time. "Good luck, guys. You’re gonna need it."
“Thanks, Lando. Very reassuring.” Y/N hung up and looked at Max, feeling the anxiety slowly building. “What do we do?”
Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She stood up, pacing the room. "This is bad. This is so bad. They’re probably already plotting my demise."
Max stood up and stretched, clearly unbothered. "I’ll take responsibility. I’ll tell them I made the first move."
Y/N laughed, despite the panic bubbling in her chest. "Oh, that’s gonna go over great."
"Don’t worry," Max said, walking over to her and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I’ll protect you."
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You’re delusional."
"Maybe," Max grinned, "but I’m delusional for you."
Y/N shook her head, grabbing his hand. "Come on, let’s go. Might as well face the music before they break down my door."
"Or your phone," Max quipped.
Y/N glared at him. "This is all your fault."
Max smirked. "Maybe. But you love me anyway."
She groaned but didn’t deny it, knowing full well that Max was right—about both things.
Y/N ran her hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down. “Okay, okay. We’ll go back to my apartment and figure this out.”
Max stood up, stretching. “I’ll make sure to bring snacks for the interrogation.”
Y/N laughed, despite herself. “You’re way too calm about this.”
“Maybe I like living dangerously,” Max said, smirking.
“Or maybe you just have a death wish.”
“Either way,” Max replied, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, “I’m with you.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Well, you better be. Because we’re both about to face the firing squad.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#max verstappen x reader#f1 scenario#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 x oc#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x oc#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula one fanfiction#formula one imagine#formula one x you#formula one smau#formula 1 social media au#formula one social media au#formula one x oc
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Fictober Day 4: Thigh Riding
Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Prompt: Thigh Riding (✨)
Summary: You ride Matt's thigh. That's it. That's the plot.
Warnings: SMUT (18+), thigh riding, dirty talk, use of "good girl", PWP
Word Count: 817
A/n: Today, you are getting a Drabble. I finally managed to write something a little shorter, but I did it mostly to challenge myself. I don't write Drabbles often, so this was fun to do, especially with that prompt. If you were hoping for something longer, I apologize, but thigh riding is one of the juiciest prompts for our Deranged Catholic Lawyer ever and I might use it again in the future.
[Smut right under the cut!]
Read Me On AO3!
The air is thick with sweat and despair. Every breath you take gets caught in your throat and turns into a wanton moan. It’s loud enough to bounce off the walls and spiral back to you.
You most certainly lost your mind a long time ago.
Matt has been so busy lately, never leaving a hopeless stone unturned until he has done everything he can to help those who can’t help themselves. It’s one of many things you love so much about it. You are so in love it sometimes makes you want to bash your head through drywall. And tonight, he has taken the night off from the streets of Hell’s Kitchen to take care of his girl. Because you need him, and he can’t say no when you need him. When he can smell the arousal soaking through your panties the moment he sets foot in the door.
The dinner you made was forgotten before you even had a chance to tell him what you made. Matt walked in, and the second his senses picked up on you in that tiny black dress, he pounced like a starving animal on the hunt.
Your bare cunt drags over the fabric of his clothed thigh as his nails bury themselves in the flesh around your hips. With every brush of your clit against the taunt muscle, a million fires reignite in your belly. You are weak to the smoldering heat of an inferno waiting to happen and level you to the ground.
“That’s it,” he grunts in your ear. “Just like that.”
There is nothing more ethereal to him than you when you are like this—mouth agape against his shoulder, biting the fabric of his dress shirt, and your heart beating through your chest into his. He can feel you in every crevice of his being, taste you on his tongue. When you’re this vulnerable for him, when you let your guard down to take the pleasure you deserve, you are the easiest to admire.
His words are far out of his control as they slip, injecting them right into your bloodstream like the most addictive drug on the market—and you are getting it all for free.
Good girl. Take what you need. Gonna make yourself come, hm?
Your eyes roll back into your head.
Gonna wear those pants to work tomorrow so I can smell you. Imagine what it’d be like to bend you over and fuck you ‘till all of New York knows my name. That what you want? Yeah, you do. That’s my girl.
To him, it sounds like gibberish, but with every syllable uttered, your heart starts beating faster. Your walls clench around nothing. Your lungs contract, and you cry his name into the void. That’s what he was looking for.
Matt drags his nose from behind your ear, down your throat. Your pulse jumps under his touch. He revels in the way you react to him, always. Like you have never been touched before.
“Mine,” he writes those words on your upper thigh as he says them, barely conscious yet precise with his fingertips. “You’re mine.”
The possessiveness he feels with you makes him crazy, but you are not so far behind him. He has long driven you into madness. You would use a hot iron and brand his name into your skin if it meant you could stay like this forever, with him.
“Yours,” you choke out between pants. Yours, and only yours. Though you’re not strong enough to say much more, not when it feels this good to ride those thick thighs of his.
His hand comes to rest around your neck. Air is a luxury, but with him, you don’t need it. You like it when your head gets fuzzy, and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as the noose of pleasure threatens to hang you.
He’s flexing his thigh and squeezing your neck, and the crescendo is building; you can’t outrun it. Your cunt continues to grind against him, so selfish, so needy, and you know you would give him anything if he just asked.
The light at the end of the tunnel is right there. Every drag feels like a punch to your gut, but a pleasurable one nonetheless. Not a second goes by when you’re not connected to him. And when you open your eyes and you see the look on Matt’s face, the way he’s taking you in, it’s more than enough to send you hurdling over the edge.
As always though, he is there to catch you as you fall.
“Shh,” he runs his hand through your hair, “I’ve got you. Breathe.”
You breathe him in. Your legs may be shaking, and you have lost all sense of time, but you are with the man you love, and nothing could ever make you quite as happy as he does.
@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze
#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x reader#daredevil#matt murdock#daredevil x reader#pwp#drabble#lizzi's fictober 2024#charlie cox
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The Restricted Section
Hermione Granger x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader x Harry Potter
Summary:
Harry wishes that Hermione would just relax. Just because he doesn't know the exact source of a hand-written spell in an old textbook doesn't mean that it's completely evil.
Intent to prove her wrong, he dawns his Invisibility Cloak and sneaks off to the Restricted Section of the library, looking for a more solid source of that spell - and he completely forgets everything that he set out to do when he finds Hermione along the way, doing something (or rather, someone) in a secluded corner of the library that is definitely not studying. (Something that he'll never be able to get out of his mind ever again.)
Hermione Granger x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader x Harry Potter. Accidental Voyeurism upon an Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Half-Blood Prince.
Word Count: 4,400
Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link
Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: this fic is primarily smut focused; there is some very vague plot - Harry and Hermione have an argument because Hermione doesn't like the Half-Blood Prince's book and wants Harry to get rid of it (and they are still not on good terms when the smutty stuff comes up); passing mention of a hex that gives you boils that never heal; the primary pairing in this fic is between Hermione and the reader, and Harry spies on them having sex using his Invisibility Cloak - that does mean that this fic has dubious consent and dubious morality, because Harry never asks for their permission to watch and never reveals himself to them, and during the course of this fic they also don't find out that he's there (if this is the kind of thing that makes you uncomfortable, then I would recommend moving on to one of my other fics); the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; the reader's looks - including race, hair colour, skin tone, etc. are not described in anyway; there is use of Y/N in this fic; the reader is a Gryffindor in this fic (I wanted her to be closer with Hermione, sharing a dorm with her, and be closer to the trio in general); Harry has had a crush on the reader for a while before this, but this is the first time he views Hermione sexually past his platonic friendship feelings for her; accidental voyeurism - Harry does not intend to spy on the girls, but once he discovers them, he doesn't stop watching; semi-public sex - Hermione and the reader are fucking in the library, but they are fucking in a much more secluded part of the library where Hermione knows that someone is less likely to discover them; there is some sub/dom dynamics - Hermione and the reader having a pre-existing sub/dom relationship where Hermione is very dominant and the reader is submissive, and Harry is understanding those dynamics as he observes them; Hermione calls the reader: little girl (not as indication of her size, but as a form of degradation and condescension), little bitch, little whore, slutty, brat, darling,; Hermione demands to be called 'Mistress'; Harry is a switch - he imagines himself as both dominant and submissive in his fantasies; (Harry as a 'sir' kink in his fantasies); mentions of creampie kink (one of Harry's fantasies); Hermione is very mean and condescending toward the reader; brat taming/punishment and reward - the reader has 'misbehaved' and Hermione seeks to correct it; degradation kink (towards the reader); Hermione fingers the reader; Hermione uses the reader's tie like a leash; lots of dirty talk (from Hermione); Harry considers masturbating but does not (because he fears getting caught) (and there is a mention of him masturbating to thoughts of what happened in a more private space afterwards); pussy spanking/clit spanking (from Hermione towards reader) and ass spanking (towards reader - just once) (no severe pain kink); orgasm denial (towards the reader); I believe that's it.
A/N: This was such a random idea that zapped into my head that demanded to be written. People were asking for Hermione x Fem!Reader smut and it was something I really wanted to do, but I only really felt inspired to do it when it occurred to me to write Hermione through Harry's eyes. To talk about her going from this very non-sexual being to someone so sexually powerful in his eyes - it was something really fun. And I am so glad I actually managed to squeeze this one in and finish it before the poll for the other fic finished up. I feel like this is such a fun, Harry Potter based idea that uses themes and elements unique to the series. And it's wonderful, filthy horny smut. So I hope that you guys enjoy!!
...
Harry really didn’t understand Hermione sometimes.
She was an amazing friend, someone that he wouldn’t trade for the world - someone so wonderfully loyal, smart, and fun to be around during the times when she let herself actually relax and untense. But during the times when she had that intensely large stick up her arse, she could be the biggest pain in the world. Sometimes, it was like she stayed up late in her dormitory, just thinking of ways to drive Harry and Ron utterly mad.
Yes, Harry knew that his particular fascination with the Half-Blood Prince’s book was not exactly… normal. But Hermione’s attachment to a lot of her books was never normal either. And just because the book was old didn’t mean that it was bad. Just because Harry was fascinated by it didn’t mean that there would be negative consequences.
There was no reason for her to go off on a long tangent about ‘dark magic’ and ‘the Latin origins of spells’ when he had asked her about a hand-written spell that was in the book. Something that spiralled into a huge argument between the two of them when he refused to hand over the Prince’s book once she had asked him where he had gotten the spell. To her, it was something that sounded very dangerous, and she complained that therefore, the whole book was dangerous. He complained that she had a knot in her knickers because he had just been asking if she knew what the spell was or not, if she had heard of it before - it’s not like he had any intentions of actually using it.
And then Hermione had warned him that he should simply throw the book away and he told her that she was just jealous that he was actually getting better grades than her in a class for once, and the night ended with her huffing off to bed and stomping up the stairs - and the two of them hadn’t spoken in over a day because of it. Ron was nagging both of them to make-up - but Harry was chuffed, honestly. For once, Ron knew what it felt like to be between two feuding friends, trying to mend the fences.
Harry wasn’t going to apologise.
Hermione wasn’t the queen of everything. She couldn’t just demand things from him and expect him to follow suit. He had his own brain, despite what she thought, and he could make his own judgements. Harry had no plans to use the spell if Hermione thought it was dangerous, and he had just been asking about it out of curiosity. But he was more peeved that it led to her demanding that he throw the book away or destroy it, like she held some authority over him, like she was his damn mother or something.
This left Harry stewing in his annoyance as he made his way to the Restricted Section of the library the next night. He was still curious if the spell had any other known origins - another spell book, some kind of book about dark magic. Hell, he would revert to a Latin textbook if he was desperate, just to get a leg-up without directly asking Hermione. But he was headed to the Restricted Section first - because as much as she was annoying, Hermione usually was right.
He was feeling confident and perhaps a bit cocky to find the source of the spell and wield some more knowledge over her that she didn’t have. For once.
Harry had dawned his Invisibility Cloak for this task, of course. It wasn’t past curfew yet, but the library was about ten minutes from closing, and he knew that it would be easier to sneak in before Madame Pince locked up and stay there well after dark, taking his time in order to find what he needed. And any trip to the Restricted Section without a note from a professor giving permission required such a disguise.
The library was practically deserted due to the late hour - most students having wandered off to bed like good rule followers. Harry wasn’t surprised when he heard a particular, familiar voice coming from an isolated area of small desks study carols back between a few towering book cases. Of course, she would think that this would be the perfect place to get her work done, undisturbed. He couldn’t hold back from rolling his eyes when he heard that voice taking on her usual scolding, bossy tone.
“I am not at all pleased with you, you know that?”
It was Hermione.
Harry knew for a fact that Ron was in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, his face unpleasantly glued to Lavender’s once again, so he wasn’t the one in the path of Hermione’s wrath this time. Harry had to wonder who exactly had come on the other end of her up-tight, nosy fortitude.
He had seen Hermione usher you off to the library after class earlier that afternoon, saying something about the mark on your last Transfiguration essay being ‘far below your usual standard’, and talking about how you ‘needed to follow her study schedule more closely’ - and Harry had felt sorry for you at the time, if anything. The fact that you would have Hermione hovering over your shoulder, bothering you all afternoon, marking all your work and making you redo it to her incredibly high standards.
Sometimes, he felt sorry for the fact that you had to share a dorm with her. That you couldn’t escape Hermione even for a peaceful night of slumber.
But surely the two of you hadn’t spent this long in the library together. Even you wouldn’t take three or four hours to do your homework up to Hermione’s standards. She would have freed you by now - and with any luck, you would be off somewhere, snogging some lucky bloke - (Harry couldn’t let that particular train of jealous thought get to him right now).
“Little girl, am I going to have to get mean with you?”
Hermione’s voice came again, just as bitter as usual, and then it clicked with Harry.
No, it wasn’t you, perhaps Hermione was taking out her anger on a couple of First Years for not doing their homework, getting on the wrong end of Hermione’s ill-guided Prefect power that she wielded like a presidency. Harry held back a scoff of laughter, and he couldn’t help the urge to move toward the sound of her voice, eager to see what exactly was going on.
“Stop being such a whiny little bitch - you asked for this. Now shut up and take it like a good little whore.”
Those words - those words in Hermione’s voice - immediately smacked Harry in the face harder than any stunning curse ever could have. He craned his neck around the bookcase in front of him so hard to see what was happening that he harshly smacked one of his shoulders, nearly giving himself away with the noise and having to strangle down his cry of pain in order not to be caught.
However, after a moment, he came around the corner completely and rested against the bookcase comfortably as his eyes took in the utterly unbelievable sight at the other end of the aisle.
Holy fuck.
Holy… fuck.
It was you.
You and Hermione. Hermione and you.
You and Hermione looking like some sort of unbelievable pornographic dream.
Hermione had you pressed up against a desk, your legs spread wide for her with your arse just balanced on the edge of the table while she stood between them - it took Harry’s very stunned brain a moment to process it, but he realised that her arm working furiously between your thighs like that, pistoning back and forth while you spread your legs wider and leaned into the touch could only mean one thing.
She was finger-fucking your pussy.
Harry had no clue how he hadn’t picked up on the other sounds previously, especially not in the dead quiet of the library. But it was blatantly fucking clear to his ears now. The sound of your wetness sliding against her fingers, so beautifully sloppy - he could only imagine how slick you were, how pretty your cunt looked around her fingers, which were usually only meant for gripping quills or turning the pages in her next book. Along with your repressed moans, barely caught in your chest where you were biting your lip raw, clearly trying your best to stay quiet - the sounds coming out, as Hermione had described them: whines, as though you were a needy bitch in heat.
Harry was in utter shock.
Never, in a thousand years, would ever have imagined Hermione Granger looking at you with crazed heat in her eyes, her stern brow and disappointed frown somehow so perfectly fitting for the situation. Scolding you in her bossy voice while she held on tight to your Gryffindor tie like a leash, keeping your posture tight and straight as she finger-fucked you in the most rough, harsh way that Harry could have ever pictured.
Hermione - uptight, bookish, rule-bound Hermione - fucking you in the library where anybody could have caught the two of you. It seemed so wildly unimaginable, and yet - when more scolding words came out of her lips in that bossy tone, it seemed… so terribly fitting for her.
“You’ve been such a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Hermione breathed hotly, giving another harsh tug on your tie that made you whine deeply in the back of your throat.
Harry swore the sound of her fingers jabbing between your legs became even wetter, sloppier sounding. So you liked being called naughty.
“Yes, I have-” You whined out, and Hermione tugged the tie again, cutting off anything further that you had to say with a harsh jolt.
Harry’s cock snapped to attention at an alarmingly fast rate, the blood rushing into his prick so quickly that it almost made him dizzy. The moral contention of watching two of his good friends go at it didn’t really cross his mind at all (perhaps his morality was going a bit too grey, using an old marked up book to ‘cheat’ in his classes these days). But he knew that wanking would be a bad idea simply based on the fact that he would have a difficult time staying quiet. So he reached down and squeezed the bulge in his trousers, gaining little relief from this as he looked on. He likely wouldn’t have been able to pull his eyes away if Voldemort himself showed up and demanded it.
“Such a naughty little bitch - you can’t even go one afternoon without having your slutty cunt filled, can you?” Hermione demanded, her words seemingly growing filthier by the second.
“I need it.” You moaned, arching into her further, as though you were possessed.
Harry would have wondered if she had been replaced by someone else, or bewitched - but you seemed to love it, loved everything she was saying. She seemed to be playing into a knowledge of your kinks, things that she knew would make you weaker and more lustful in her hands. Which was so Hermione that it was painful. Studying for something, keeping a backlog of useful knowledge.
Harry just never would have guessed that she would have used her big brain for this.
What made matters even more dizzying and shocking - this was Hermione and you. A pair he never would have thought up that also somehow made so much sense. Now, every single time the two of you snuck off giggling and Harry thought that it was just something girlish that he didn’t understand - he had to wonder what the two of you had been doing.
The fact that Hermione had been Viktor Krum’s date to the Yule Ball and you had been Harry’s, but you and Hermione had been glued to each other all night made a lot more sense. Every single time the two of you walked to class together holding hands, every single time you showed up to the Gryffindor table with some kind of glaring love mark on your neck and Ginny or someone else asked you about it and Hermione had laughed when you named off a different boy from a different house - it all made strange sense in Harry’s eyes.
This was you - one of the hottest, most sought-after girls at Hogwarts. The star of every single one of Harry’s wanking fantasies since you had given him a pity kiss under some mistletoe after a DA meeting. (He had a feeling that Hermione would be sneaking into those fantasies too, now, as much as he had tried to keep her out on the grounds that it would be rude to wank to his best friend). You, someone who was so gorgeous and so desirable and somehow never seemed to have a long-term boyfriend, as often as guys asked you on dates, and as often as you claimed to like certain boys and even flirted with them.
Apparently Hermione had been keeping you on a leash this whole time. A tight leash - just like the way she was holding your tie, keeping you close, keeping you waiting with baited breath for her next move.
“Mione-” You breathed out in return, a slight begging in your voice that had Harry light-headed in seconds.
This was better than any fantasy he could have dreamt up.
“Ah-ah. Hush, little girl.” Hermione fired back, that bossy condescending she always used somehow sounding all the more perfect in this context. “You’ve been such a proper brat all day, and you’re going to take what I give you, understand?”
You nodded your head (as much as you could with the hold she had on you) and made a noise of affirmation. But Hermione gave another sharp tug on your tie, clearly displeased with this.
“Come on, use your words now. Be a good girl.” She ordered sharply, the only thing giving away what must have been her own arousal being a slight hint of breath on her voice. Otherwise, she was entirely proper - not a single wrinkle in her impeccable uniform, her face entirely straight and firm as she stared you down with sharp eyes.
“Yes, Mione-”
“No, darling. Wrong again.”
Hermione hauled her hand back, creating another loud wet sound as she hauled her fingers out of your pussy entirely. Harry harshly craned his neck again, and it was only then that it truly occurred to him, between his dizzy head, his cement legs and his hard cock painful against his pelvis, protesting wildly against his zipper, that he could actually move closer to get a better look. With his Cloak guarding him, he would not be seen.
He tried his best not to rush, not to make too much noise especially as he got closer, and he almost scolded himself when he nearly missed out on it - the wet smack as Hermione brought her hand down between your thighs. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have guessed that she had so boldly laid two rapid spanks right across your swollen, needy clit. Your skirt flipped up out of the way, no panties in sight, and giving her all the room in the world to do so.
You harshly bit down on your own lip again, worrying the skin to the point where it was swollen and looked like it might even bruise, dampening down harsh cries from deep within your chest. Before Harry could worry that the tears pooling in your eyes had meant that Hermione had truly hurt you, you spread your legs wider and canted your hips more toward her, offering your body up for more.
And then, you opened your lips again, seemingly to obey whatever implicit command she had given you with the spanks.
“Yes, Mistress.” You choked out, putting stress on the title, as if correcting your earlier self. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good girl.” Hermione replied, more breath this time as she used your tie to pull you into a heated kiss, and then shoved three firm fingers back into your waiting, leaking cunt.
Harry’s head was spinning.
He had never seen anything more beautiful and erotic in his life (not even when Fred and George had shown him and Ron those Wonder Witch magazines - no, this was much hotter and more perfect because it was so real).
His mind was spinning with a unique kind of jealousy, something that told him that he was sure if he wanted to steal you away from Hermione because he thought he could - because he now knew all of your sexual preferences and he would use that information to play you, to do everything she was doing to you and more. He would make you the perfect horny little puppet on his painful, throbbing cock (he gave himself another squeeze through his trousers, suppressing a moan of his own). He would have you calling him ‘Sir’ and begging for his cock in no time, because you needed it - you needed to have your holes filled and you would fucking love it.
Or if he wanted Hermione playing him like this - tugging on his hair, guiding him around by his tie like he was nothing more than a wretched dog, needing to be tamed. Wanted her using that bossy voice of hers to give him completely different kinds of orders - forcing him onto his knees to eat her cunt until she was satisfied, and - knowing her - she never would be.
Harry’s mind flashed with an image of him on his knees before you, his head so perfectly framed by your plush thighs, with Hermione behind him, barking orders in his ear, a tight grip on his hair as she shoved him tighter into your perfect, messy, wet pussy. He decided that was it - that was exactly what he wanted. That would be the vision that haunted his dreams from now on.
It was something that had him leaking enough precum to stain through to the outside of his pants, especially by the time your voice warbled out brokenly against Hermione’s chin, your thighs starting to shake, and Harry was sure that he would get the treat of seeing you cum on her fingers.
He was sorely disappointed by what happened next.
Hermione pulled back from you completely, creating another deadly wet sound as she pulled her fingers from your cunt once again - something that was almost drowned out by the pitched, disappointed whine that you let out.
“Mione-!” You complained sharply, the nickname almost coming out as a sob from the back of your throat.
You sat frozen on the edge of the desk, your legs spread wide as you stared Hermione down with glassy, disappointed eyes while she stepped back and grabbed a handkerchief from her bag that was sitting on a table opposite and used it to wipe off her glistening fingers.
Harry rushed to get a better look at your cunt before you closed your legs, and Merlin - it was magnificent. Swollen and puffed from Hermione’s efforts, coated in your wetness, your clit stuck out from the hood and standing at attention, so damn needy, begging to be touched, your hole slightly gaped from where Hermione’s fingers had been.
(Harry couldn’t help but to imagine how stretched you would be left by the thickness of his cock, how good you would look leaking with his cum…)
“What did you expect?” Hermione said sharply, the edge of a sarcastic laugh on her voice. She was firm, not giving in to the pout that you were giving her.
“You’ve been bratting up all day - I could have excused you flirting with Malfoy all through potions class-” She continued.
Harry had noticed that too. He had simply thought that Malfoy would be your next conquest, not a simple flirtation to get on Hermione’s nerves.
“If not for the fact that you didn’t finish any of your homework and you then decided to distract me from doing mine all afternoon.”
Of course. Hermione doling out sexual punishments for not doing homework.
Some things are just nature.
Though, Harry knew, if there was one thing that would motivate him to do his essays - it would be the idea of getting to cum.
“Of course you don’t get to cum, you stupid whore.” Hermione said these words how she said many things - as a final, finite declaration that was law.
Hearing her speak such filthy words in such an authoritative (and nearly emotionless) voice almost caused Harry to cum in his pants on the spot. Almost.
You let out a sigh of defeat and finally closed your legs, hopping off the desk and pulling down your skirt. Obviously, you hadn’t been wearing panties at all that day (which was another thought that would haunt Harry’s wet dreams) because you made no move to find a pair and put them back on. Instead, you simply turned around and gathered some of your books that were farther back on the desk.
“How long?” You asked Hermione tentatively, glancing over your shoulder at her.
Perhaps meaning - how long would she be angry with you? How long until she would finally allow you to cum?
Harry’s stomach lurched - he imagined himself finding you in the hallway and pinning you against the wall, flipping up your skirt and finding your still wet, bare cunt, teasing you with his fingers and promising to give you everything that you needed as long as you surrendered yourself to him. He would let you cum - he would make you cum so many times that you would cry and beg for him to stop. And he would leave you tired, satisfied and gaped with his cum dripping from all your pretty holes.
Perhaps it would be rude and underhanded to go after you simply based on a void that Hermione had left in you - but Harry was still feeling a bit of a petty sting from their argument the night before.
Hermione stepped toward you again - careful, calculated, like a predator observing its prey. She put her hands on either side of your waist, and leaned forward to whisper something in your ear that Harry barely caught.
“For as long as I want, naughty girl.” She told you. “You’ll take what you get, and you’ll like it, you understand me?”
“Yes, Mistress.” You sighed loyally in return. Though your face was knit with a unique displeasure - clearly, you were still aching to cum.
“And if I think for a moment that you have been touching your little whore cunt without my permission, I will spank you until every single person in Hogwarts hears you scream my name - understood?”
She topped this off with a sharp spank across your ass, using her free hand to hold the fabric of your skirt out of the way to make sure it was nothing but free, burning, skin on skin. You sucked in a sharp breath, and began nodding furiously.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good.” Hermione told you. “Now, off to bed.”
You began to walk off, but you hesitantly looked back over your shoulder, as if waiting for her to follow.
“I’ll be along in a few minutes. I have to sort out some more books for tomorrow. Since I now have so much to catch up on.” She added the last part with a bit of snark, and you rolled your eyes, turning around and walking.
Unfortunately, you abruptly headed in Harry’s direction and his stomach tightly clenched - he moved to press himself tightly into the bookcase, praying that you wouldn’t bump into him.
Perhaps you felt him move, or you simply felt something… off, but you paused for a moment, and stared harshly at the space where Harry was standing. His heart began to beat hard inside of his throat, and he wondered how fast he would be able to run with his cock so uncomfortably stiff inside of his pants. You kept staring, as though you were expecting something to materialise out of thin air.
“Y/N, go.” Hermione snapped. “Go on, it’s almost curfew.”
“Yes, Miss Prefect, I’m going.” You sighed sarcastically in return, and walked off.
Harry had a hard time not loudly gulping in air - not realising how harshly he had been holding his breath.
He stayed there for a few more minutes and continued to watch Hermione.
Jarringly, she was still so much of the usual Hermione. She was still absolutely someone that he knew so well, despite the secret sex persona that she had been hiding. Still biting at the skin around her nails as she concentrated on a thought, still fussing over which books to take, and still leaving the library with more of an armful than she could comfortably carry. Still somehow forgetting that she could just use magic to lug all the books to the Gryffindor common room instead of tiring out her arms - and Harry only fitfully realised now that this was only half her arm workout, and fucking your cunt raw must have been the other half.
The whole time he stood there, Harry had considered revealing himself to her.
He thought about begging to be let in on what the two of you had, even if he had to do something horrible to earn it first, to be worthy in her eyes - something like licking her shoes or wanking in front of her just to be ‘even’. But he knew that she would see the spying (even if unintentional) as a violation of trust, as something too creepy to be redeemed. She would probably hex him to hell and back, make him grow boils that would break open and bleed and never properly heal for the rest of his life - just for thinking about spying on her like that.
So Harry knew that he had to keep this whole thing a secret, keep it close to his chest. He could never, ever speak about it to anyone.
Harry forgot all about the book he had wanted. And, instead of going back to the Gryffindor common room behind Hermione, he took his aching cock to the Prefect’s Bathroom in an attempt to clear his mind. After making himself cum not once, but three different times, he finally settled into the hot water for a nice, long soak. He thought about it, and he realised that he was properly fucked - because he would never be able to look at you or Hermione in the same way again.
...
A/N: This is a oneshot, and at this current time, there is not going to be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. I might be open to writing a second part to this, but I don't have any current plans to do so and right now, it is not on my schedule. For now, if you are going to leave a comment on this fic, please leave a comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more Harry Potter fics that I have written, definitely check out my Harry Potter masterlist.
#sundrop writes#harry potter fanfiction#hermione granger x reader#hermione granger smut#hermione granger x fem!reader#hermione granger x you#hermione granger x y/n#hermione granger fanfiction#harry james potter x reader#harry james potter smut#harry potter x reader#hjp x reader
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reading update: september 2024
I'm turning in the reading roundup a little later than usual, but booooy not for lack of enthusiasm! September was such an interesting month for books, not least of all because you'll notice that things take a spooky turn towards the end of the month. in the name of whimsy I decided that October would be the perfect time to go on a themed reading kick and read through everything vaguely spooky, scary, or horror-related on my TBR, and then I thought, hey, why wait? Halloween is a state of mind, and I want to get spooked.
(have I been spooked yet? well... eh. but there's still time!)
my point being, if you want some creepy recs, hang tight because the October reading roundup is going to be great for you. in the meantime, here's what I read in September:
My Nemesis (Charmaine Craig, 2023) - cannot recommend this brief novel enough if you like very stylized prose about very insufferable people. Craig's protagonist is a memoirist who narrates her tale of woe exactly like she's writing a personal essay that's going to do numbers on twitter, intimate from a detached and analytical distance and giving the strong impression of a person who's made a living being intensely self-obsessed and can't quite manage to turn it off. it's a fascinating approach to a story about an emotionally overwhelming friendship destroying two marriages and ending in a woman's death, all without any actual adultery ever occurring. the narrator is consciously self-conscious, unreliable in the subtle and shifty way of someone trying to take exactly enough culpability to avoid being assigned more. it's a heavily interior novel, but Craig managed to keep me gasping with surprise here and there - the stomach-twisting reveal of why the narrator is actually telling her story, for one, as well as the revelation of the work within the novel that shares its name. if you like a tightly crafted character exercise, you're going to eat this up.
Raiders of the Lost Heart (Jo Segura, 2023) - this was the romance novel picked out via poll over on my patreon for September, and if I may be honest I was NOT excited! to my mind it was the dud of the group, the one amongst the four possibilities that I was most dreading. the garish cover, improbable plot summary, and blatant Indiana Jones of it all (the male love interest is literally named Ford) was a tremendous turn off, and you know what? I was wrong for that. Raiders ended up being one of the better romance novels I've read this year, and not JUST because I've been reading an endless parade of stinkers. the characters are largely free of manufactured drama and are instead believably and sympathetically rendered, with the female lead Corrie being a particular knockout; I would love to be her friend. the plot isn't nearly as cartoonish as the synopsis on the back of the book would have you believe, or at least most of it isn't; the silliness doesn't arrive until almost the very end, when Segura decides she needs some action movie stakes in here ASAP. and while the prose wasn't totally free of the genre's worst bullshit (stop reminding me that Ford's eyes are emerald, I beg), it was for the most part refreshingly no-nonsense. I wasn't even a chapter into this book when I found myself realizing I might really like it, and as of right now it's looking to claim the title of my favorite romance of 2024 in a landslide victory. having said that someone should be in thought crime prison for titling the sequel "Temple of Swoon."
Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 11 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2022) - man you guys Dungeon Meshi is so fucking good. what the fuck. what the hell. it's so genuinely insane that Kui is still able to weave in elements of humor that feel so organic and natural to the characters at this absolutely dire point of the game, when all of my faves are actively in so much danger - largely FROM EACH OTHER - that I'm eating my fingers. christ. some of my students who are in an LGBT book club did Legends and Lattes last month and I just kept wanting to ask if anyone had read Dungeon Meshi for, you know, a very D&D-flavored story that's actually intensely interested in dissecting the tropes of the genre alongside race and class and xenophobia and the social rules of an adventurer heavy world but god. I couldn't. because it's not gay. like Senshi I just want to nourish the youngsters but I can't because it's not gay. please everyone for the love of god just read Dungeon Meshi.
The Most (Jessica Anthony, 2024) - I'm a simple man, and I added this tiny novel to my TBR based on a blurb that really gave me nothing but "a 60s housewife gets in the apartment complex's pool and refuses to get out and it freaks her husband right out." god forbid women do anything, right? anyway, at risk of showing my whole ass I think this is exactly the kind of "disaffected adultery and divorce" book that a lot of tumblr users claim to hate, and I fucking loved it. Anthony is a brilliantly sharp writer who paces her microcosmic drama perfectly, revealing everything at just the right moment like a practiced tour guide showing us around the shadowy corners of an aggressively ordinary marriage. I love adultery and I think this book in particular should be taught in writing courses. sue me.
Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir (Akwaeke Emezi, 2021) - I think this year I've reread more books than I have any other year of my adult life, and I'm so glad that I took time to revisit Emezi's memoir. it's genuinely like nothing else I've ever read, one of the boldest and bravest things I've ever read. Emezi's account of godhood, of coming to understand themself as a deity trapped in flesh, is absolutely unwavering, completely grounded in their certainty of their truth and proceeding from there without ever worrying about persuading others to believe them. Emezi is a storyteller's storyteller, and their story doesn't need anyone's approval. but while it can be challenging, I wouldn't call the book confrontational. quite the opposite; in many places it's achingly vulnerable, as Emezi guides you through an unabashed tour of the very worst of their heartbreak, trauma, and alienation, and the times they've nearly succeeded in taking their own life. but god, please don't think this memoir is unrelenting misery. Emezi also speaks so, SO powerfully of opulence, of love, of the dedication to their artistry ad unabashed acknowledgement that they are a peerless talent. Emezi talks about magic of writing in a way that makes me feel like I'm being engulfed in golden-white flames; they make me want to transform myself into the artist I want to be. once again: I am an Emezi stan first and a person second forever.
The Beginning and End of Rape: Confronting Sexual Violence in Native America (Sarah Deer, 2015) - listen, I'll be straight up with you: unless you're exorbitantly interested in rape law, alternatives to carceral "justice," and legalese, this is going to be a very dry read, and there are not enough narrative segments to make up for that. for my money, Deer provides a thorough overview of the difficulties faced by American tribal nations in exercising legal power to prosecute and punish cases of sexual violence, despite the staggering levels of violence experienced by women in many Native communities. I really admired the intensely tempered view that Deer (a member of the Mvskokoe nation) brings to her work, discussing the history of Native approaches to sexual violence without pretending precolonial North America was a feminist utopia and offering thoughtful criticism of proposed substitutions to imprisonment. while the rape laws of any one of the 574 federally recognized tribes in the occupied lands of the United States could be a book on its own and Deer is constrained by the need to cover as much territory as she can in the broadest strokes possible, this is a solid primer to an ongoing social, spiritual, and legal issue that too rarely receives attention outside of Native communities.
Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and Other Misfortunes (Erica LaRocca, 2022) - straight up I was only trying to read Things Have Gotten worse, LaRocca's somewhat infamous story of a lesbian relationship that goes extremely wrong extremely fast, but the only copy available through my library system came with two more of his short stories (the aforementioned Other Misfortunes). I'm going to save time on the two extra stories: one is an incomprehensible exercise in religious trauma and I did not like it, and the other one was silly because I, personally, simply would not get so trapped in a sense of social obligation that I let my neighbor do stupid riddles to be until I was in a guillotine. rip to that guy but I'm different. anyway, back to the star of the show. I made the mistake of browsing some other people's thoughts on Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and encountered a truly dizzying number of people whose takeaway seems to be that it's bad not for any stylistic reason but because it depicts two lesbians being in a relationship that's deranged and unhealthy, to which I say you should probably go watch Stephen Universe or something instead of looking for #goodrep in the horror short stories. christ. for my money, Things Have Gotten Worse is messy in the most delicious way, absolutely bonkers from start to finish. escalates pretty much instantly and refuses to let up for truly even a second. cannot believe the predatory mommy dom turns out to be the reasonable one in this dynamic, that one threw me for a loop. it's not incredible but god was I entertained.
Fledgling (Octavia E. Butler, 2005) - another reread, revisiting some of my favorite little freak vampires for the spooky season! although, honestly, the most spooky scary thing about Butler's vampires is probably that vampires look like an Aryan cult and some of them are turbo racist while the other ones insist that it's totally 100% impossible for vampires to be racist and the fact that this gets quite a lot of people killed, something that I'm sure is just a weird coincidence and not any kind of commentary that Butler was making on anything at all. what else is there to say? this is one of Butler's most elaborate explorations of inverted power dynamics, dropping codependent symbiotic sexy vampire polycule cults smack in the middle of the 21st century United States instead of on an alien planet or an apocalyptic wasteland just to really drive home how crazy this shit it. and it's delicious! I love it! what a deliciously different interpretation of vampirism. imagine the utopia we'd be living in if this was the vampire novel that had gotten big in 2005 instead of Twilight.
The Low, Low Woods (Carmen Maria Machado, Dani, and Tamra Bonvillain, 2020) - first I remembered that there are horror comics that I can include in my Octoberish reading, and then I remembered that creepy queen Carmen Maria Machado has published one with DC Comics' Black Label. The Low, Low Woods follows dirtbag teen lesbians Octavia and El in the burnt out coal mining town of Shudder to Think, a town where everyone knows that something's not quite right but no one can seem to leave. the story begins with El and Octavia waking up in a movie theater with no memory of a movie, realizing that they've lost time. the ensuing investigation takes them deep into the town's troubled history, and forces them to realize it's not just the supernatural preying on the town. I love creepy Appalachia and would definitely recommend this for any Old Gods of Appalachia fans, and I will say that so far this is the only one of the spooky reads to really get under my skin and give me a full-body shiver due to the sheer overwhelming awfulness of the implications Machado raises with the revelations in her story. I'm not usually one for trigger warnings in my little roundups, but I cannot emphasize enough that if you have a hard time reading about sexual violence, you'll probably want to skip this one.
The Icarus Girl (Helen Oyeyemi, 2005) - I've been meaning to get into Oyeyemi's large body of work (in part because Akwaeke Emezi speaks quite highly of her) and where better to start than with her debut novel? and why not now, since it was tagged as horror? ultimately I'd concede that the book is creepy but don't know if I'd quite consider myself horrified, and that's completely fine since it's an astonishing piece of prose regardless. writing a believable eight year old narrator of an adult novel is a tricky thing, but Oyeyemi pulls it off beautifully with protagonist Jessamy, effortlessly selling her as an insightful, anxious, and intelligent girl who's still utterly believable as a child. the Icarus Girl revels in the same kind of "powerless child" horror as Gaiman's Ocean at the End of the Lane, following the lonely Jessamy as she initially is befriended and then tormented by a mysterious and powerful little girl that she meets while visiting her mother's family in Nigeria. as her new friends gets increasingly malevolent and out of control, Jess struggles to account for the damage and to be taken seriously by her parents when she tries to explain what's wrong. Oyeyemi apparently wrote this book when she was only a teenager, and if she's been leveling up her craft with each subsequent novel then I have a lot of look forward to.
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Betrayal (Ransom Drysdale)
Summary: Ransom finds out you betrayed him.
WC: 499
Warnings: angst
Read on Ao3!
The dim light of the abandoned warehouse flickered, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. You shivered, a cold sweat creeping down your spine as you waited, heart pounding in your chest. The betrayal hung heavy in the air, a thick tension that made it hard to breathe.
Ransom Drysdale stepped into the light, his confident stride interrupted only by the slight crunch of glass underfoot. His eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, now glinted with a cold fury that sent chills through you. He was dressed in all black, a stark contrast to the chaos that had ensued since your decision to turn against him.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” he said, voice smooth but laced with venom. “I was starting to think you’d lost your nerve.”
“I—Ransom, please,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”
He stepped closer, and you could see the tightening of his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Not supposed to go this far? You thought selling me out to the authorities was just a casual suggestion?”
“I thought you’d understand—”
“Understand?!” He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed off the walls. “You think I’m some kind of fool? You were in this as deep as I was. I thought we were on the same team.”
You took a step back, the reality of the situation crashing over you. Ransom had always been unpredictable, but this was a new level of danger. “I didn’t want to betray you. I had no choice!”
“Everyone has a choice, sweetheart.” His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. “You chose wrong.”
You could feel the panic rising as he advanced. “Ransom, please! I can help you! We can still make this work!”
His expression hardened. “There’s no working this out. You’ve left me no option.” He pulled something from his pocket, and the glint of metal made your stomach drop.
“No! Ransom, don’t do this!” You pleaded, desperation spilling from your lips. “You can’t kill me. We have history! We—”
“History?” He scoffed. “You mean the history of your deceit? The countless times you acted like my partner while plotting my downfall? That’s the history I remember.”
Tears welled in your eyes, but you fought them back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was scared.”
“Scared?” He stepped closer, the gun in his hand steady and unyielding. “You should’ve been scared when you decided to cross me. I gave you everything.”
“Ransom, think about what you’re doing! You’re making a mistake!” Your voice cracked, and you took another step back, hitting the wall behind you.
“No.” He shook his head, his gaze unwavering. “You’re the mistake. And now, I have to fix it.”
Time seemed to stretch as you both stood there, the weight of choices made heavy in the air. The reality of his intent settled like a lead blanket, and you realized he meant every word.
#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale#ransom drysdale x you#ransom drysdale x female reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans x y/n#chris evans x you#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x ofc
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my speculation for twst x nightmare before christmas
My thoughts based on what I've observed based on summaries. I am bad at connecting my words to my thoughts and can only hope to telepathy-osmosis the thoughts to you after this. Everything is under the cut or else you'll have to do a ton of scrolling.
Part 1 from what I'm seeing in tweets before full translations and more story parts come out: The gang gets isekai'd because plot says they must and lose their shit over getting isekai'd (this isn't Yuu's first time getting isekai'd lmao). They meet Skully J Graves who might be really physically affectionate and is the odd one out in his town. They meet Jack Skellington, Zero, and Sally. Skully fanboys over Jack. Halloween is in 3 days, Jack has a problem where he wants to celebrate Halloween in a new way, Skully opts to help (ominous great Halloween sentence and all), Sally has a bad feeling, a town meeting is called.
Skully J Graves
Skully idolizes Jack Skellington and wants to show others Halloween by celebrating (possibly in his way) like how Jack wanted to show others Christmas by hijacking it. In Nightmare Before Christmas, the town also looks up to Jack but are oblivious to his feelings about Halloween (Jack's Lament), but Sally isn't.
Unlike Jack who is beloved in Halloweentown, Skully is alienated from his peers back in his town. His schoolmates don't share his interests so he brushes them off. Idia was already an SSR in Glorious Masquerade but if he were SSR here, he'd end up calling himself out for going "us vs them" (Idia vs normies) when it comes to "if we don't have the same interests, we have zero common ground and will never see eye to eye" during the climax. Malleus shares his interest in gargoyles with Yuu who unconditionally accepts and befriends him, and he was alienated because top 5 most powerful mages, status, and *insert book 7*. Jade likes mushrooms, Azul likes networking and going "helping you will be helpful for me", Riddle is a voice of reason (kind of), Trey handles Riddle's temper (Labwear vignette) and has a dentist thing, Epel and his dislike for being called cute, Vil takes feedback from Rook and can impose on others, Jamil has to put up with Kalim who was oblivious to his plight, Leona and Book 2. All that is just me connecting the NRC boys with either Skully or the plot and characters of Nightmare Before Christmas. Skully is a type of separate from the NRC boys, not being in NRC while everyone else is, greeting the gang via kiss, being very full of whimsy (let's hold hands and walk in the woods!), being the youngest (just turned 16 so he's baby), and looks up to Jack while the others don't know him at all. Yuu is alienated by being magicless in a magic school and being from another world but they grow less alienated as they make friends and accustom to being a student (part of your worlddddd). Too bad Rook isn't here. I want to see how Rook and Skully would interact. Rook, Cater, Kalim, and Lilia can't be in the event to make Skully even more alienated in the group.
Isekai and Escapism
The NRC gang get isekai'd and until the rest of the story comes out to confirm or deny, Skully may have been isekai'd too. One thing that came to mind is that there's a lot of isekai stories in anime/manga. There's a lot of escapism in anime and isekai is one of them. The protagonist could have a miserable life or a dream they want to achieve before they get yeeted into another world. What direction the isekai goes varies but they can go into wish-fulfillment, power fantasy, playing around with the concept of people getting thrown into another world, anything. The author/protagonist might project onto the setting. I don't want to make the paragraphs longer than necessary so I'll leave it at that.
There's western isekai (portal fantasy) like The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, Narnia, Peter Pan, Infinity Train, The Owl House, or Amphibia. I haven't seen Infinity Train, Owl House, or Amphibia, but I know Infinity Train is the "you need therapy" isekai where even though they get to go home for a specific reason, time still passed and everything that happened still happened. No memory wipe, no dream, that person was missing for who-knows-how-long. From what I've picked up about Owl House, Luz is on a completely different wavelength from everyone, peers and adults. And something about wanting to be understood if I recall correctly? I know she comes off as neurodivergent to viewers (idk if she's confirmed to be ND) which is why this tangent about western isekai is here. In my head, there's a connection with Skully's character because alienation from others and having interests that others don't.
Anyway, escapism. Remember Skully's idolization for Jack and Halloween? Now throw in Jack's problem being an opening for Skully to indulge in his interest. Eliza from Ghost Marriage had a goal to marry a Prince Charming which is unrealistic while being inconsiderate of others (kicking out everyone on campus for her wedding, kidnapping Idia), Skully will likely do something selfish while carrying out his fantasy. How far that goes, we'll find out eventually. Will this event story have something to say about escapism in isekai? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Based on Nightmare Before Christmas
Film summary: Jack, a beloved figure of the town, is bored of the repetition in Halloween (Jack's Lament) so when he sees Christmas (What's This?), he is interested and wants to share that with others. He tries to explain it to the town and recreate/celebrate it despite not understanding the meaning behind the holiday (Town Meeting). Halloweentown is about harmless but fun frights ("that's our job but we're not mean, in our town of Halloween"), Christmas has to do with presents and wintry cheer. Sally tries to warn Jack that it won't work out but he disregards it. Jack hijacks Christmas by kidnapping and impersonating Santa, sends presents that bring scares instead of cheer which warrants him getting shot down. Jack reflects that he messed up (Poor Jack) but had one heck of a time ("And for a minute, why, I even touched the sky! And at least I left some stories they can tell") and sheds the Santa costume, returning to being himself ("That's right! I AM THE PUMPKIN KING!"). Jack saves Santa and Sally, Santa calls him out for his actions, Santa restores Christmas, Jack and Sally reach the romance stage. Jack is the anti-villain of the story and Oogie Boogie is there because Santa has to be held somewhere and having a worse villain would make Jack look less bad in comparison. Jack wanted to have fun, do something new! He was just oblivious and inconsiderate of others! (looks at Kalim) What is the moral of the story? What did Jack learn? Listen to others instead of getting overconfident, hear what they have to say, be open to feedback.
If the event story is going to be a rehash of the film's plot like the Stitch event recreating Stitch vs Gantu or how the Books recreate the films' plot beats, Skully will probably hijack the holiday into his image that doesn't see eye-to-eye with Halloweentown's version or comes at the cost of others. You've heard of "never meet your heroes" because their true self is not the exact same as their public persona, this case could go in the direction of "PARASOCIALLLL PARASOCIALLL YOU NEED TO LOG OFF" or some kind of compromise. The ending might have a "that was sick but NEVER do that again" moment.
I want Yuu to be active in this event, even as the "Sally" who tries to reach out to Skully and voice their concerns, but I know the SSRs will be given more focus so I'm half-expecting Yuu to get sidelined. Glorious Masquerade had an opportunity for Yuu, the immune one and foil to Rollo's hatred for magic, to be proactive and directly confront Rollo but got nerfed or else the story would be cut short. Also, Yuu is not an SSR (yeah the SSR gang can confront Rollo BUT LET YUU DO THAT TOO, THERE WAS A VERY INTERESTING DICHOTOMY BETWEEN THEM)
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland spoilers#twst spoilers#skully j graves#lost in the book with tim burton's the nightmare before christmas#twst jp#twst jp spoilers
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Unexpected
TW: mentions of pregnancy. Heavy angst. Language. Minor mention of gore.
SUMMARY: Trevor and you just learned you are going to have a baby! It would be good news if there wasn't a secret he was keeping from you...
*REQUESTED*
Anonymous Asked:
Hiii! Could you do a hellraiser trevor one shot where he gets her pregnant and realizes he's in too deep and her and his baby are going to die if he doesn't do something about it
Unexpected
It was as clear as day. Two pink lines from the third test you've taken this morning. The others only confirm that in which you already suspected.
You're pregnant.
Tears fill behind your eyes as you are terrified of what this means. Although you know there is an unspoken commitment between you and Trevor, his expression confirms that happiness isn't his first emotion, even if his own eyes are glossy.
"I'm -" You're about to apologize when he rushes to his keys set in the bowl beside the door and put to his car.
"Trevor!"
"I-I have to take care of something!"
"RIGHT NOW?" You call to him as he quickly shuffles on a pair of shoes and pulls the handle to leave.
"I'm sorry. I...I'm sorry." He takes the words from your mouth as you settle into your heartbreak in the midst of the living room. Only, you aren't left alone. Understanding there is a life within you, you steady your emotions the best you can given your accelerated hormones, and place your hand on your stomach.
"Hey in there. I promise everything is going to be okay." You rub softly, afraid even the softest of movements will somehow affect the baby. It causes you to make an appointment, which is what you do instead of dwelling on the abandonment.
Trevor accelerated through town, hitting the steering wheel with tears threatening to blur his view, before finally coming to the decrepit house on the edge. It was once beautiful and now a fortress fortified for what was to come. The things he tried to protect you from...
"Voight!" He calls, rushing through each gothic-themed room in the continuation of a seemingly useless name.
"Vo-"
"What is it?" Voight, a man struggling to breathe with the contraption punishing him for his greed, holds himself up from around the corner.
"I want out."
"Out? There is no "out"."
"Well make one! I can't be a part of this-"
"We made a deal-"
"I can't -I...I won't do it."
"You stopped having a choice when you got a taste of what you wanted and asked for more. Now you're going to help me..." He removed the cursed object that was once a cube, now more an arrowhead as he tenses. Knowing the capabilities and the torment, his skin dampens and his teeth clench.
"Please. I...I'm gonna have a kid. I can't..."
"You think pity will change things? You are so truly naive. Now do what you were hired to before I take you from the equation completely." He threatens Trevor as he is left in temporary silence.
A silence that leaves him pensive.
A silence that makes him understand the possibilities.
If his own mind wasn't desperate for some compromise, your text coming through prompted him to commit to it.
Y/N: I have an appointment at two. Not that you'll be there, just thought you should know.
"It's for you, baby. Shit-babies? It's for my family..."
A FEW HOURS LATER
"Voight?" Trevor leads the man from his rest as he follows him in conversation. Trevor plays the role of reinvigorated henchman, having kept you in the forefront of his mind. He wonders if you've eaten since you haven't been able to most of the last few days. He hopes you're resting but estimated you're probably pacing in between the thought of cursing him out and breaking up with him. Eventually, he uses the motivation of you and the unborn child to drag him from reservation and into effort.
"I was thinking what if I lured someone..." He begins to discuss a plot that piques Voight's interest. It's enough to distract him as he disguises the ruse of a get rich quick scheme and a quick job. An intriguing detail leaving suspicion on him.
"You want me to give you the device?"
"If the girl can come across it then it'll latch onto her. I'll have to get close to her. I'll be believable. Just like how I was to Y/N." The acid of his untruth burns and yet he commits.
"I'll conceal it. Get me that box from the Hennessy job." Trevor disappears before cursing at himself for his lacking wisdom to get Voight's trust.
And then comes another idea.
"The doors. Are they secure enough?"
"I made sure." Voight says as he begins to place the device away. Trevor is running out of time and he knows it.
"Last time I checked, the gear stuck. I couldn't get it-"
"You probably broke it-" He mutters, leaving the device unattended as he looks for the electrical box. Once hunched over it, Trevor carefully conceals the device in his sweatshirt and moves behind Voight.
He has to time this perfectly...
Carefully...
Without being detected...
"AHHHH! HELP ME!" Voight cries out as his hand becomes lodged between the gears. Bones and flesh crushed, he is dependent on Trevor's nonexistent mercy.
"What are you doing? I helped you!"
"I'm not risking my family." Taking out the device, he placed the opening of the end to Voight's flailing finger until it latches.
"What have you done?! After all I did for you!?"
"I tried to reason-" Voight reaches for Trevor, managing to grab a hold of his collar.
"They'll come for you. If not today-NO! NO! PLEASE! HIM! I'VE GIVEN YOU OFFERINGS-NOOOO!" Voight calls, his body contorted before he is dragged from sight. The snap of bone and tear from life is all that remains as Trevor steps quickly in the opposite direction from the nightmare taken from him. The sound of chain and the smell of iron linger and haunt him as he rushes into his car.
He takes a minute to try and erase what he saw. Just as the nausea begins to control him, he sees your bracelet hanging from his mirror. You replace and recycle his thoughts for what the future could hold. In an instant, the blood, gore, and deception shapeshift into something filled with hope and goodness.
A true light in the dark.
He rushes back through town and up through the hospital and to the OBGYN sector. Once inside, he finds you holding back tears in the waiting room.
"Trevor?" He's on his knees in front of you, hands desperately holding yours.
"I'm here, baby. Are you okay?"
"I was...anxious. I'm fine." You retract your hands, always used to being let down by him. Whether it is jobs that only last long enough to pay bills or being second choice to a bar when he's stressed, he knows now is the time to step up. He knows you need more and he wants to be that for you.
"I'm going to be better, baby. For you. For us." His hand lowers to your stomach.
"Y/N?" You get summoned, both you and Trevor on your feet. You follow behind a technician who leads you into a room stolen from most light. It reminds him of Voight's expensive dungeon. You misread this for anxiety and your shared worry drives your hand to join his.
"This is the baby..." It is more a collection of shapes than an identifiable form and yet it's yours. A join of you and Trevor. A life. A future. A revelation and a chance.
Trevor takes your hand and leads it to his mouth for a kiss.
"I promise baby, everything will be okay." You're foolishly in love with him and yet never once have seen such sincerity behind his eyes. You trust it, even if some secrets will be bound to remain just that, you clutch and hold that which you see possible.
No matter how unexpected.
MASTERLIST
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Hello! Are your requests open? If so, can I request an Alan x child actress reader? Like they're staring in a tv show or something as father daughter. I kinda want some fluff goodness 🥺. Since Alan never had children but I know he's great with kids and he's a method actor if I remember correctly. Not sure about the plot tho so you could have creative freedom with it :)).
Title: Lights, Camera, Fatherhood.
Summary: Alan Rickman reflects on the emotional power of acting as he auditions with a young girl to play his on-screen daughter, forming a bond that promises to shine in their upcoming series.
Pairing: Alan Rickman & Fem! Reader
Warning: none.
Author's Notes: Hello! Yes, my requests are open 😄, and I have to say, this idea is absolutely adorable! 🥺 I can already imagine Alan being all fatherly and sweet on set while staying in character. Thanks for trusting me with the creative freedom—this one’s going to be fun! 😄✨
Also read on Ao3
You sat on the edge of a worn leather bench in the waiting room, your small legs swinging back and forth nervously. Your hands gripped the sides of the bench as you glanced around at the other children and their parents, all of them looking just as anxious as you. Your mom sat beside you, offering a reassuring smile every now and then, but you could still feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach.
This was the final audition. You’d already been pre-selected, and now you were here, just one more step away from possibly landing the role of the daughter in a TV series—a role that had the entire cast and crew abuzz. But what made your heart race even more was the fact that the character who would play your father was none other than Alan Rickman, Professor Snape himself.
You’d been dreaming about meeting him for weeks. In fact, you’d secretly practiced your lines in front of your Harry Potter books, imagining Snape’s voice responding to you. It was funny, really, that you would be auditioning with someone so famous, someone you’d seen in movies—and now you had a chance to be his on-screen daughter. But that also made it ten times more nerve-wracking.
“Mama, what if I mess up?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the other families in the room.
Your mother squeezed your hand gently. “You won’t, sweetheart. You’ve worked so hard for this. Just be yourself, and everything will be okay.”
You nodded, biting your lip as you glanced at the closed door across the room. Every few minutes, it would open, and another child actress would come out, either smiling brightly or looking close to tears. Your heart raced every time the door moved, knowing your turn was getting closer.
And then it opened again.
A little girl walked out, her face a mix of relief and excitement. Behind her, you caught a glimpse of the tall figure of Alan Rickman, standing with the director, his hooked nose and sharp features unmistakable even from a distance. He looked just like he did in the movies, only without the long black robes. He was dressed in a simple, dark suit, but it was the same serious expression you’d seen as Professor Snape.
Your stomach flipped.
“Next, please!” the casting assistant called, her voice crisp as she glanced down at her clipboard.
Your mother gave you an encouraging nudge. “It’s your turn, darling.”
You swallowed hard and slid off the bench, your legs feeling a little wobbly as you walked toward the door. Your hands were clammy, and you had to remind yourself to breathe as the assistant led you into the audition room.
The space was larger than you expected, with cameras set up around the edges and a few people sitting at a long table in the back, watching intently. But it was Alan Rickman who caught your attention. He was standing near the center of the room, his hazel eyes sharp but kind, and he gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile as you walked in.
"Hello there," he said in that deep, unmistakable voice of his. It was softer than Snape’s, less stern, but still had that same gravitas that made your heart skip a beat. “You must be the next potential daughter of mine, hmm?”
You blinked, unsure if you were supposed to laugh, but your mom had always told you that a joke deserved a smile, so you grinned nervously.
Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he took a step closer. “No need to be nervous. I don’t bite—unless the director insists upon it, of course.” He winked playfully, and that little gesture somehow made you feel a bit more at ease.
The director, who had been flipping through some notes, looked up and smiled warmly at you. “Okay, sweetie, we’re just going to run through a scene with Alan here to see how you two work together. Nothing to worry about, just have fun.”
Alan gave you an encouraging nod and gestured toward a couple of chairs that had been set up to mimic a living room. “Shall we, then?” he asked, his voice kind as he waited for you to join him.
You took a deep breath and nodded, moving to sit across from him. Your hands still trembled a little, but Alan seemed to sense that. He leaned in slightly and whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s just pretend. We’ll make it up as we go along.”
You nodded, and the director called, “Action!”
Alan’s whole demeanor changed in an instant. His posture stiffened slightly, and his expression became serious, though not in the intimidating way Snape might have been. He was now a concerned father, his eyes soft as he looked at you.
“Darling,” he began, his voice deep and measured, “why didn’t you tell me what was bothering you earlier? I thought we had agreed to talk about these things.”
Your heart thudded in your chest, but you remembered your lines. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” you said softly, doing your best to look down at your lap as if you were sad.
Alan’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, his voice full of warmth. “Disappointed? In you? Never. You’re my daughter, the most important person in my life.”
The words were simple, but the way he said them—so sincere, so full of emotion—made you feel like they were real, like you really were his daughter, and he was trying to make everything better. You glanced up at him, and for a moment, you forgot you were in an audition room.
“Really?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, a bit of your real nervousness slipping into the scene.
Alan smiled softly, leaning closer. “Really,” he said. “You could never disappoint me. Not in a million years.”
Alan was a method actor, and you could feel him fully becoming the father character, his voice deep and filled with quiet emotion. He made you believe in the world of the story, and soon, your nervousness was forgotten.
But then, in the middle of one of his lines, Alan suddenly made a subtle, funny face—something that was out of character but just small enough for only you to catch it. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you almost giggled. He was playing with you, testing to see if you could keep your composure. You bit your lip and kept going, fighting the smile threatening to break across your face.
When the scene ended, the director nodded approvingly. “Very nice, both of you. The chemistry is really strong.”
Alan grinned and leaned down slightly, so only you could hear. “You didn’t laugh. Impressive. I might need to raise the stakes next time.”
You giggled softly, feeling lighter than you had before. "I can handle it."
As you left the room, Alan called out behind you, “Good luck, young lady. I think we’ll make a good team.”
You turned back, beaming, and gave him a little wave. “Thank you, Professor Snape!” you blurted out, and instantly regretted it, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
But Alan just chuckled, his smile warm and kind. “I think you’ll find I’m a bit nicer than that particular professor.”
As you walked back to your mother, you couldn’t stop smiling. She pulled you into a hug, her eyes twinkling with pride. “How did it go?”
“I think it went well,” you said, still beaming. “Alan Rickman’s really nice. And funny! I almost laughed during the scene, but I didn’t.”
Your mother smiled, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”
As you sat back down on the bench, the nerves from before had completely disappeared, replaced by a warm glow of excitement. Whether or not you got the part, you knew you had just shared something special—a moment with a legendary actor who made you feel seen, comfortable, and brave.
And maybe, just maybe, you would get to spend more time working with him. After all, who wouldn’t want Alan Rickman as their TV dad?
Inside the audition room, Alan Rickman sat down with a sigh, running a hand through his silvering hair as the director approached him with a clipboard. His expression had shifted now that the young actress had left the room—no longer the warm, fatherly figure, but the methodical, critical professional that Alan embodied when it came to his craft.
The director, a man in his late forties with wire-rimmed glasses, flipped through a few pages of notes before looking up at Alan. “Well, Alan,” he began, “we’ve narrowed it down to three final candidates for the role of your on-screen daughter. All of them are talented in their own ways, but I wanted your take on them. You’re excellent with children, and frankly, I trust your judgment.”
Alan crossed one leg over the other, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. He had always approached his roles with meticulous care, and that extended to casting decisions. As much as he enjoyed the charm of working with child actors, he knew that the right choice here could make or break the emotional core of the show.
The director handed him a sheet with notes on each of the three candidates. Alan adjusted his glasses and skimmed through them before glancing back up. “Let’s start with the first one,” he said, his voice as smooth as ever but now tinged with a more professional edge.
“Emma, age 8. Strong presence, very polished. She’s already done a few commercials, so she knows her way around a camera,” the director explained, leaning back against the table.
Alan nodded, recalling the audition. “Yes, she has a natural confidence,” he agreed. “But I worry she might be too polished. Her delivery felt rehearsed, as if she was performing a routine rather than reacting naturally. With children, especially in this kind of intimate father-daughter dynamic, you need someone who can live in the moment. Emma’s a talented girl, but I didn’t feel that raw connection.”
The director pursed his lips, jotting down a note. “Fair point. And the second one, Sophie, she’s 9.”
Alan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought. “Sophie,” he repeated, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “Sophie has presence, no doubt about that. But I sensed some hesitation. She’s got potential, but there was something... withheld in her performance. I’m not sure if it’s nerves or something deeper. It might come out with the right direction, but she’ll need more work to access her emotions fully.
He paused, looking directly at the director. “And in this role, the father-daughter relationship is crucial. If she’s holding back, it’ll create a distance that the audience will feel.”
The director nodded thoughtfully, flipping to the last candidate. “And then there’s the girl who just left, our youngest at 7 years old. Her name is—”
Alan cut in with a slight smile, “Yes, I remember her. The girl who almost called me ‘Professor Snape’.” His tone was laced with a dry humor, the kind that always softened the edge of his critiques.
The director chuckled. “Yes, that’s the one. What did you think?”
Alan took a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on the arm of the chair. “She’s got something,” he said after a pause. “She was nervous—understandable, of course, given the situation—but she didn’t let it control her. There’s a natural vulnerability there, and that’s what we need for this role. It’s not about delivering a perfect line or knowing how to hit your mark, not with a child this age. It’s about honesty.”
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “She made me believe she was genuinely afraid of disappointing her father. That’s the kind of performance you can’t teach. It’s instinctive.”
The director raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You think she could carry the emotional weight of the role, then?”
Alan nodded firmly. “Yes. She’s not as polished as the others, but that’s exactly why she works. She’s real. She reacts, she listens, and she’s willing to be open. With a little guidance, she’ll give us the authenticity we need. The audience won’t just see a performance; they’ll feel it.”
He paused, his eyes flickering with a warmth that belied the seriousness of the conversation. “Besides,” he added, his tone lightening, “I’m rather fond of her resilience. I tried to throw her off with a bit of improvisation, and she didn’t crack. That tells me she’s quick on her feet.”
The director smiled, clearly valuing Alan’s opinion. “That’s a good sign.”
Alan leaned back, his features softening as he reflected on the process. “One thing I’ve learned over the years, especially with children, is that you have to give them space to be themselves. If you try to shape them into what you think they should be, you lose what’s unique about them. She’s got that spark, and we’d be foolish not to let her run with it.”
The director nodded slowly, absorbing Alan’s words. “So, you think she’s the one?”
Alan smiled, his eyes twinkling with the kind of affection he reserved for special moments. “I think she’s more than capable. She’ll need encouragement, of course, but she’s got what the others don’t—a raw, emotional honesty. That’s something you can’t teach. And frankly,” he added with a wink, “I quite like the idea of having a daughter who’s not afraid to stand her ground against me.”
The director laughed. “Alright, I’ll make some notes. I trust your instincts, Alan. If you’re on board, I think we’ve found our girl.”
Alan nodded, his smile fading into a more serious expression as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes. I think we have. And I’m looking forward to working with her.”
As the director scribbled down his thoughts, Alan glanced back at the closed door where the little girl had exited moments before. A part of him, deep down, had always longed to experience fatherhood, to guide and nurture a child. And while that part of his life had never materialized, acting—particularly in roles like this—allowed him to explore that side of himself in a way he never could in real life.
It was a bittersweet feeling, but as he prepared for what was to come, he knew one thing for certain: this was going to be a rewarding experience, for both him and the young actress.
"Let's make this happen," Alan said quietly, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
And with that, the director nodded in agreement, sealing the fate of the young girl who would soon share the screen—and many memorable moments—with Alan Rickman.
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Nowhere Safe
Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Reader
Summary: Lost in the woods, you're tired and desperate when you stumble upon a strange cabin.
word count: 2.6k+
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, spell casting/drugging on reader so-noncon, porn w/ a lot of plot, magic bondage, thigh-riding, fingering, strap-on, young adults messing around with a ouiji board
a/n: I have risen from the dead for spooky season!
You do NOT have permission to copy or repost my works anywhere.
You feel a chill run down your spine as you and your friends huddle around the Ouija board, moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. The forest seemingly holding its breath, waiting. You’re berating yourself for letting Cassie drag you into this, you remember her begging, pleading with you to come along.
With wobbly fingers, you place your hand on the planchette alongside your friends. The cool, smooth surface feels almost alive beneath your touch. You exchange nervous glances, hearts pounding in unison.
"Is anyone there?" you call out, voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
The planchette begins to move, slowly across the board. Your eyes widen as its spells out its message. You can't tell if it's your friends moving it or something... else. A twig snaps in the darkness beyond your circle. You all jump, pulses racing. “Was that just an animal, or something more sinister?” Your friend tries to make a joke as he laughs, the others letting out a few chuckles. Everyone falls silent as the planchette picks up speed, darting from letter to letter. The message it spells makes your blood run cold.
R-U-N A-W-A-Y
You want to pull your hand away, to end this game, but something keeps you frozen in place. A gust of wind extinguishes the lanterns, plunging your group into darkness. In the split second before your eyes adjust, you swear you see a figure standing just beyond the trees, watching. You blink, and it's gone. The forest suddenly feels alive, aware, closing in around you. Everyone starts screaming, darting into the forest at different directions. You spot Cassie and try to follow her so you both aren’t alone.
Stumbling through the dense forest, your heart pounding in your chest. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut: you've lost sight of Cassie. One moment she was right in front of you, and the next, she vanished into the green labyrinth surrounding you.
"Cassie!" you call out, your voice trembling. "Cassie, where are you?" Only the rustling of leaves answers your desperate cries.
Panic begins to set in as you spin around, trying to get your bearings. Every direction looks the same – an endless sea of trees and undergrowth. You struggle to remember which way you came from, which path you were following. Everything blurs together in your fear-addled mind. Hearing a loud crunch from behind, you took off in the opposite direction.
The branches whipped across your face as you tore through the dense forest. Lungs burning with each ragged breath, but you didn't dare slow down. Pounding heartbeat was deafening in your ears, nearly drowning out the ominous rustling behind you.
Risking a quick glance over your shoulder, only for the thick foliage to reveal nothing. Still, you could feel it - that nameless, faceless terror pursuing you relentlessly through the shadows of the trees. You couldn't say what is was. All you knew was the primal fear coursing through your veins, urging you to run faster, harder; anything to get away.
Seeing a dim light in the distance hope blossomed in your chest at the thought of help, and a way out these woods. You’d be sure to scold your friends once you found them again in town.
Coming up to the clearing you see an old cabin looming before you, its weathered wooden exterior blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest. You approach cautiously, however passing the fence at the tree line, an eerie silence descends. The porch creaked ominously under your weight as you reach for the rusted door knocker.
Suddenly, the door creaks open. Startled, you take a step back, your heart racing in your chest. A middle-aged woman emerges, her silhouette framed by warm light spilling from inside.
"Oh? You poor thing lost out here," she coos, her voice dripping with sympathy. She opens the door wider gesturing you forward, "Come in, come in."
Before you can explain, she ushers you inside. The cabin's warmth immediately envelops you, a stark contrast to the cold forest night. The woman guides you to a seat near a rustic fireplace, its flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. As you sit in the chair, fatigue washes over you.
She bustles about, humming softly to herself. "Let me get make you some tea," she urged, disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. The crackling fire fills the silence, its heat seeping into your bones.
Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The cabin, for all its apparent coziness, feels like a place out of time. Flames swirl in the firelight, and you notice strange symbols carved into the wooden beams above.
The floorboards creak softly as the woman returns, a steaming cup in her hands. Her auburn hair framing her face, falling over her shoulders as she holds out the small, porcelain cup. Her eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, you swear they flash an unnatural purple. "Drink up, dear," she insists, her voice suddenly lower, more resonant. "It'll help you relax."
You force a smile, swallowing hard. "Thank you," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers tremble as you accept the tea, the warmth of the room unable to quell the shiver traveling down your spine.
The woman watches intently as you raise the cup to your lips. The tea has an odd, bitter aftertaste that lingers on your tongue. You try to hide your grimace, not wanting to offend her. As you drink, a strange fog begins to creep into your mind. The edges of your vision blur, and the room seems to tilt and sway. You blink hard, trying to clear your head, but the fog only thickens.
You furrow your eyebrows trying to speak, to ask what's happening, but your tongue feels heavy and useless in your mouth. You start seeing purple wisps floating in your vision as you try to remain focused.
“So beautiful, so pliant now,” she breaths out, taking a step back from you. Before you can react, she raises her right hand in a swift, deliberate motion. Instantly, you feel an invisible force yanking your arms behind your back, your wrists binding together as if tied by unseen ropes.
Panic surges through you as you attempt to struggle against the magical restraints. The cup of tea clatters to the floor, its contents spilling across the worn wooden planks. The woman's gentle demeanor vanishes, replaced by a cruel smirk.
"Now, now," she chides, her voice no longer sickly sweet but stern and commanding. "There's no need to struggle. You're not going anywhere."
The shadows in the corners of the room seem to deepen and writhe, responding to her will. The symbols carved into the beams above pulse with an eerie purple light, matching the glow in her eyes. You realize with growing horror that this is no ordinary woman, but a witch of considerable power.
"You and your friends playing with that silly board, sweetie, you were practically begging for something to happen.” she laughs, circling you like a predator. Placing her hand on the armrests of the chair, caging you in, "and who am I to say no to such a pretty toy.”
As she speaks, tendrils of purple mist begin to curl around your feet, slowly creeping up your body. Your mind races, albeit sluggishly, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare, but with your hands bound and the witch's magic surrounding you, escape is impossible. She steps behind you, her lithe fingers trailing your shoulders.
“Hold still, little one," she murmurs, her voice both soothing and commanding. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as your shirt is torn away, she rips your bra straps before tossing it to the side. The witch's hand presses against your right shoulder blade, and you gasp at a brief flash of heat followed by a freezing cold that spreads throughout your body.
You can feel the sigil taking root within you, its power pulsing in time with your heartbeat. Strange symbols dance at the edges of your vision, and you swear you can hear whispers in a language you don't understand.
The witch steps back, admiring her handiwork. "There," a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "You're mine now, marked by my magic." She kisses around the sigil carefully with your tender skin. Her lips trail up behind your ear, hands moving to your waist, moving you over to the sofa.
The violet upholstery gave way as she laid you down gently. The soft velvet of the sofa felt abrasive against your fresh mark. You tried lifting your shoulder to lessen the pressure but your body felt heavy as stone.
“Don’t worry, I don’t intend on hurting you… too much,” she presses a soft kisses against your lips, deep and languid. Your whole body was sensitive as she kissed down your chest, sucking a nipple into her mouth pinching the other. One hand found purchase on your waist while the other grabbed your pants catching the waistline of your panties, pulling them down in one tug. Each touch, each gesture, sent waves of sensation coursing through you.
She released your nipple with a pop, pulling you up above her, settling you onto her thigh as she laid back into the cushions. Your slick already making a mess on her black leather pants. She smirked watching your eyes close and roll back, your hips bucking.
“There you go, doll. Give me a little show.” She grinned as you speed up, tossing your head back, chasing the pleasure her thigh gave you. She latched herself to your neck sucking deep purple marks all over. Her hands pulled your hips down, giving your clit more pressure as your hips jerked.
Pulling her thigh away she slips two digits into your wet cunt, thumb brushing over your clit. Her fingers curl as she slides them deeper, against the spongy wall of your pussy. Digging her nails into your hips, engraving crescent marks, your jaw dropped whimpers escaping you. This woman was itching to get all the sounds she can out of you. Your mind hazy as you rode her fingers faster, the coil tightening in your lower stomach, your breaths heavy, you were so close.
“Agatha!” you cried out, hips stuttering, waves of pleasure crashing down on you, body trembling above her. You don’t know how you know this woman’s name, all you know that her name is chanting in your mind like prayer and it’s the only keeping you sane right now. “My names sounds so magical falling from your mouth, doll.” She gasps, locking her lips onto yours again as she lays you back down.
You try catching your breath as you hear the rustling of clothes being thrown about. You register the soreness in your upper back and wrists, as you feel cool tendrils wrap around your thighs holding them apart. Agatha’s hands replace the tendrils, scooting herself closer to your core. Conjuring a strap on her hips out the thin air, she runs the tip up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on her shaft.
Your eyes open to find her hovering over you, her azure orbs shockingly holding concern. You hadn’t realized you were crying until now, tears blurring your vision. “Deep breath for me, doll,” she shutters pushing the tip into your quivering hole, the harness rubbing against her clit. Thumbs tracing patterns on your outer thighs as he bottomed out, allowing you a second to adjust. She made tiny pumps, transfixed on how your cunt took her.
“Taking me so well, doll.” Agatha panted above you, leaning her head back as she brought your knees over her shoulder, driving into you faster. The loud squelch of your pussy was drowned out by your moaning, back arching as your body ached for release.
She dropped her head nibbling at your ear lobe as she added a finger to her strap, curling it again. You whined at the little stretch, her thumb returning to your clit. “Come on, doll, I know you’re almost there. Be good and come for me,” she encouraged you, her voice soft. Your body froze, then shook in tandem with hers. “Good girl” repeatedly falling for her lips as she dragged out both of your orgasms.
Her moans low in your ear, breaths heaving as she flips you both over, pulling you close her chest. “Shh doll. It’s over for now, you can rest.” Exhaustion steeps within your bones, sleep calling you as your body grows heavy once more. She grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, her voice low and stern, “but don’t you dare think I’m done with you. Not by a long shot.” Your vision blurred as felt a cozy blanket being placed over you, going limp in her arms.
-
Your eyes snap open, heart racing as you find yourself lying on a cold, dusty floor. Soft sunlight streams through grimy windows, illuminating dancing dust clouds. The musty smell of damp wood fills your nostrils as you slowly sit up, your body aching with every movement.
Looking around, you see cobwebs clinging to the corners of the room, and a thick layer of dust covering every surface, confused as to how you got here in the first place.
Suddenly, you hear voices in the distance. They're calling your name, their tones urgent and worried. You recognize them – it's your friends. They've been searching for you all night, their calls growing more frantic with each passing hour.
Relief washes over you, but it's quickly replaced by a new sense of urgency. You need to let them know where you are.
You struggle to your feet, your legs unsteady beneath you. Dusting yourself off, the floorboards creak as you make your way to the cabin's door. Your hand trembles as you reach for the rusty doorknob, ripping the door open and almost off its hinges. You try to call out, but your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. Your throat is dry, and you realize you're desperately thirsty.
"There you are!" Cassie's worried voice fills the space as she rushes towards you from beyond the tree-line, “We were looking all night for you!"
"What happened?" you ask, your voice hoarse and shaky as you try to quell the tears welling up. She’s shaking as she grasps your shoulders, looking you over for any wounds.
Cassie's brow furrows, concern etched on her face. "You suddenly got up and started running, and we ran after you. You don’t remember anything?”
Her words freeze you in place. You have no memory of running, let alone how you ended up in this dilapidated cabin. The gap in your recollection is unsettling, a black void where your memories should be.
"N-no, I just remembered us around the board then-," your voice trembles, gasping as you struggle to remember.
"You're safe now. You gave us quite a scare. The others are still searching. We should let them know you're safe." Cassie comes beside you, her hand gently resting on your back, wincing in pain as her arm passed over your shoulder blade, igniting a deep ache.
As you stumble off the cabin porch on unsteady legs, questions swirl in your mind. What happened during those lost hours? What compelled you to run into the woods? And why can't you remember any of it?
The forest around you seems to hold its secrets close, the trees silent witnesses to a night you can't recall. As you and Cassie make your way back to your friends, you can't shake the feeling that something inexplicable occurred in these woods - something that may have changed you in ways you've yet to understand.
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˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡
Creds to @mirkoscats and @bkdkd1glazer on TikTok for the images! ᗢ
I think a very big reason why bkdk is so hated in the western world compared to internationally is because of the English translation for it.
It seems that it’s actually a very popular ship in Japan, but if you mention them in places like America etc you should be prepared for a LOT of backlash. 😭
And obviously a reason for this is the mistranslation! A lot of Japanese words aren’t properly explained, so we’re not actually getting the full idea of what they’re saying. Just a summary.
Along with the multiple arts following romantic traditions over there, it’s obvious why it would be more popular overseas! They get the full idea of what their relationship looks like.
And it’s obvious that even if it’s romantic or not, their relationship is so special and deep. THEY ARE SOULMATES PEOPLE 😭😭
I saw someone say that ‘English mangas need like a separate page to describe Japanese words that cant be directly translated. It’s such valuable info to understand the plot fully’ and I think that’s such a good idea. Because yes it’s annoying not being able to understand everything they’re saying how it’s meant to be understood!
I think that’s just my view on it, but honestly after seeing that analysis it opened my eyes 😭
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Following romantic traditions?? No wonder they think these mfs gay too. 😭
I think if either of them were a girl, they’d already be canon. And I know horikoshi isn’t afraid of making lgbtq characters, but is he afraid of making them the MAIN characters? Which I can understand to an extent due to the possible backlash it might get.
We find this a lot, two main male best friends with a questionable relationship, wether or not they’re meant to be romantic or not they’re relationship is still questionable and outside of the norm of what you’d consider to be ‘just close friends’ or some people’s favourite term ‘brotherly.’
Time and time again people notice their close relationship, tension builds up and it goes nowhere. And they get called crazy for even thinking they were anything more than friends.
Perhaps coincidence but I think NOT??
This is a big detail that is left out in the anime, which is another reason why I think people are so against this ship. The anime portrays it poorly and leaves out important details, and they don’t bother reading the manga.
Horikoshi also happens to be a big fan of tarot cards!and people have pointed out this looks similar to the three of swords. I’m very clueless on tarot cards so if anyone wants to add their 50 cents into this part I’d appreciated. There’s an explainarion in the image but I’ll put a small one down here too from google.
‘This card depicts a fundamentally sorrowful experience—tarot readers suggest this may be in the form of a lost relationship, an accidental death, or some other form of not just depression or malaise but deeply emotional sorrow.’
‘In the context of love and partnerships, this card can signify the end of a relationship, often marked by betrayal, heartbreak, or a sudden and unexpected loss.’
So sure, it’s not inherently romantic and can be taken as either that or platonic. But I still think it’s a fun detail that the anime left out.
This is definitely a slop of holy yap but I got distracted and obsessed with wolverine for a while and sort of forgot about this account 😭
Would love to see other views on this if it does gain any sort of traction.
#mha bkdk#bkdk#mha#mha leaks#mha season 7#my hero academia#i hate gay people#izuku midoriya#mha bakugou#mha deku#mha final#analysis#bkdk canon#bkdk has ruined my life#gay people?#mha spoilers#mha analysis
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Lost in the tide
Summary: You and Harry were best friends til you took your chance at a new beginning on the isle. When reunited he finds his forgiveness in a passionate kiss.
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The Isle of the Lost had always been your home. It was dark, gritty, and full of danger, but you never cared about any of that, not when you had Harry Hook by your side. Harry had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. From sneaking around the Isle, plotting mischief and laughing at the chaos you caused, to watching the waves crash against the shore in rare, quiet moments, he had been your anchor in a world that didn’t offer much comfort. Being the daughter of Maleficent and sister to Mal came with its own set of challenges. Expectations weighed heavily on you, and while Mal embraced her role as a leader on the Isle, you had always felt a different pull, something that made you long for more than what the Isle could give. You and Harry had often talked about escaping, about breaking free from the chains that bound you to this place. But when the time came for one of you to leave, when Auradon came calling, you took your chance. And Harry had never forgiven you.
Now, years later, your heart pounded as you stepped off the boat, the familiar sights and smells of the Isle hitting you all at once. The air was thick with the scent of salt and grime, the streets bustling with the same chaos you had left behind. It was as if time hadn’t moved at all. Yet, everything had changed. Especially you. You were back on the Isle for one reason: to save Ben from Uma and her crew. But despite the mission’s urgency, your mind was consumed with only one thought, Harry. The boy who had once been your best friend, the one who had stood by your side through it all. The boy you left behind. The one whose anger still haunted you. “You alright?” Mal asked from beside you, sensing your unease. “Yeah, I’m fine” you lied, giving her a quick nod. “Let’s get this over with”. But as your group made its way toward the docks where Ben was being held, your heart raced faster with each step. And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, there he was.
Harry Hook stood near the edge of the dock, leaning casually against a post, his ever-present hook twirling in his hand. His eyes, sharp and glinting like shards of ice, were locked on you the moment you came into view. He hadn’t moved, but the intensity in his gaze was enough to make your heart skip a beat. The years apart had changed him, he was taller, broader, his features sharper and his demeanor even more dangerous but those familiar blue eyes, filled with a mix of anger and something else, were the same. And just like that, it felt like no time had passed at all.
“Well, well” Harry drawled, pushing off from where he’d been standing and taking a step toward you. His lips curled into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence. The prodigal daughter returns”. You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “Harry...” “Don’t” he snapped, his voice cold as he cut you off. “Ye don’t get to say my name like that anymore. Not after ye left”. His words hit harder than you expected, a sharp pang in your chest. You’d known he would be angry, but hearing it, feeling the bitterness in his voice, was worse than you imagined. “I didn’t have a choice” you said softly, meeting his gaze.
Harry’s eyes darkened, and he took another step closer, the space between you shrinking. “There’s always a choice, lass. Ye just didn’t choose me”. The hurt in his voice was undeniable, and you flinched at the rawness of it. He’d always been so strong, so confident, but now, standing in front of you, there was vulnerability there, a crack in the armor. You glanced down, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “I didn’t want to leave you, Harry. But Auradon… it was an opportunity, a chance for something different. You know that”. “Auradon” Harry spat, his voice filled with venom as he stepped even closer. He was right in front of you now, his breath hot against your skin as he stared down at you with an intensity that made your knees weak. “Ye got your perfect life, didn’t ye? While I was stuck here, rotting on this godforsaken Isle”.
“I didn’t have a choice” you repeated, your voice cracking. “I had to go, Harry. You don’t know how hard it was-“ “Ye left me” he interrupted again, this time his voice softer but no less fierce. His hand came up, the metal of his hook gleaming in the dim light as he pointed it at you. “Ye left me here alone”. You bit your lip, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. You wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, to tell him everything you had never been able to say. “I never wanted to leave you behind” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You were all I thought about”. Something flickered in his eyes at that. Surprise, maybe, or disbelief, but he didn’t move, his body still rigid with anger. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. “I didn’t hate ye, ye know” Harry finally said, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes softened slightly as he studied your face, and he let out a harsh breath. “I thought I did, but..I was just jealous. Jealous ye got out. That ye left me”.
You reached out tentatively, your hand brushing lightly against his chest. “I never stopped thinking about you, Harry. Never”. His breath hitched at your touch, his body tensing beneath your fingers. His free hand, the one not gripping his hook, came up to catch your wrist, holding it in place as his eyes bore into yours. “Do ye mean that?” he asked, his voice low and raw. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I mean it”.
For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel the warmth of his hand on your skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. And then, with a growl of frustration, Harry closed the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was fierce. You gasped into the kiss, your hands flying up to tangle in his hair as you kissed him back just as eagerly. Years of pent-up emotion and unresolved tension poured into that kiss, the heat between you building with every second. Harry’s arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you flush against his body, and you could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat as his lips moved against yours, hungry and demanding.
He backed you up against one of the wooden posts of the dock, pressing his body into yours as his lips trailed down the side of your neck, nipping at your skin with a wicked grin. “Ye don’t get to leave again” he murmured against your throat, his breath hot and teasing. “Not without me”. You shivered, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you tugged him closer. “I’m not going anywhere”. “Good” he growled, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss that left you breathless. His hook brushed lightly against your side, the cold metal sending a thrill through you as he tilted your chin up with his free hand. “Because I’ve spent too long thinkin’ about this, about ye”.
Your pulse raced as his lips hovered just above yours, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper. “And now that I’ve got ye… I’m not lettin’ go”. The mission to save Ben could wait, just for a little longer. For now, all that mattered was the heat of Harry’s touch and the way he made you feel like you had finally come home. And this time, you weren’t going to let him go.
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Thank you for reading!
#blog#fanfiction#fandom#x reader#x you#x y/n#dovesdreaming#disney#disney characters#disney channel#disney descendants x reader#disney descendants#disney channel x reader#disney x reader#descendants imagine#descendants x reader#descendants#harry hook imagine#descendants harry hook#harry hook x reader#harry hook
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For creator: will u make a thread or maybe summary post about the plot? I just got here and don’t know where to start or what’s going on 😅 but I want to!
CreatorNotes: Sure! I'll give u links to posts I deem important and a little summary.
But I highly recommend scrolling thru (I know it's long but I think it's worth it) especially if u want to get to know the characters more and see how they evolved over the story :)
Also I started making "arcs" but I stopped cuz they all kinda blended together. The only ones I did were Vent arc and Calls arc.
Some stuff we get introduced in the beginning:
Balloon doesn't trust Taco
They do not like Dr. Cobs
Taco is s1 Taco (mostly) at start
OJ does not like Balloon
They've lived their whole lives in the lab. They were born/made there
The kids get put thru tests. Physical, emotional, experimental, intelligence, and ability related
They've seen the world thru pictures online
Taco is a spy, working w/ Cobs
The other doctors are nicer than cobs
Bow thinks her parents abandoned her.
Bow turns 18!
Tests - Abilities - Schedule - Balloon's tests - More tests - More stuff - Baxter first appearance - Apple - A failed plan - Bow's powers - Knife breaks his wrist
Vent arc: Knife gives Balloon a pocket knife. Balloon decides to open a grate on the ceiling w/ it. He realizes it's too small to fit. - Lightbulb - So he takes Taco up there. - Taco - Taco almost gets caught - Thankfully Taco is not caught. She decided to look around Cobs office for info. She finds notes on her, Pickle, and something called Project B.O.T. she also find a sticky note w/ Cobs kids phone numbers. - End
Calls arc: Start - As Taco turns around she bumbs into Dr. Spoon who immediately takes her back to the lab. Cobs returns and claims he saw someone. He asks who it was. - Paintbrush - OJ yells at Taco, upset that she let PB take the blame for her mistake. She tries to explain but OJ doesn't listen. So instead she readies herself to fight. - Fight - The kids quickly call a doctor. - Dr. Fizz - OJ is put in confinement for a few hours. OJ soon returns but Taco and PB have not.
Paintbrush returns - Tessa - Haircut
While they wait, the anons reveal that taco is a traitor. They attempted to warn her that she's been found out but she's high on pain killers and and can't comprehend it good. But she understands when she wakes up. Taco returns to the lab and immediately gets in another argument w/ OJ
Taco's reveal - Half blind - Taco's panic attack
We're introduced to Evil Paper, or as he prefers, Looseleaf.
Balloon is scared to leave the lab
Taco in her "emo arc" she then takes a break from the blog. But she eventually comes back
Bow makes a map w/ help from ghosts
OJ somewhat apologizes to Taco
An anon makes PB mad, causing them to burn themself w/ their ability
Tessa find the kids - People explain to Tessa what is going on. She vows to help these kids escape. She eventually has to leave and is almost caught but thankfully not. She then returns home and tells Finley what happened. Fin also decides to help save the kid. - Remembering - Bow learns that her mother never abandoned her. Tessa and Dr. Parker decide to work together.
Currently Tessa is back in the lab w/ the kids
This definitely isn't including everything. (Like the doctors personal lore) Just anything important to the kids stories.
Like I said, please look through it yourself. But I hope this helped eitherway :D
#ask lab rats#ii lab rats#ii au#inanimate insanity#object show community#object shows#osc#vent arc#calls arc
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TELL US ABOUT YOUR OTHER AUS (IF ABLE AND WILLING AND YOU WANT TO) ‼️‼️‼️
Tread carefully, Anon... Once I start yapping, I can't stop (jokes on you tho, I love yapping. Let's go)
I assume you mean aus for HSR specifically? I've got a lot more for genshin, but to stop myself from going on massive tangents, I'll just stick to HSR. I'll keep them all as summaries and go into more depth if there's any interest. Ok here we go:
Chimera Yanqing has kinda become my whole thing now, but I've never actually mentioned the other characters that I've also made chimera forms for. Namely Jing Yuan.
He doesn't really have any lore...? Unlike Yanqing, I was too focused on making him look pretty, which is easy because it's Jing Yuan. I'll make an update if I add anything more to his lore, cause I'd hate to just leave him unfinished forever. I do have a chimera Yunli au too, which I'll also save for another time.
(Also keep in mind that he has wayyyy more fur than what I've shown. It just would've made his actual form unclear. He is very, very fluffy, canonically)
Mara-struck Yanqing (aka How the general ate the cabbage).
Made a whole fic for this one, the plot is in the pudding, and by pudding I mean my ao3 lol. Instead of deflecting Jingliu's ult, Yanqing is instead killed and mara-stricken, and everything falls apart from there. Keeping it vague since it's still in progress. As of writing this, I'm three chapters in, so check it out if you're interested <3
Band au.
I actually forgot about this one until I went through my list. Basically, It's a modern au where the high cloud quintet were a huge band back in ye olden days of the mid 1980s until their downfall, where the lead singer (Baiheng) is killed in an accident, triggering a series of unfortunate fates for 3 of the 4 remaining members. Jing Yuan is the only member still working in the industry and adopted Yanqing roughly 20 years after the the HCQ's fallout.
One day, though, after years of no contact, Blade comes back into Jing Yuan's life, seeking refuge from law enforcement, and it all tumbles out of control from there after Jing Yuan accepts. The rest of the story would follow a very suspicious Yanqing wondering what the deal is with his dad's weird new boyfriend, and eventually reuniting the 4 remaining members (getting the band back together, as Phineas would say).
There is SO much lore for this one, but it would take up this entire post to explain, so I'll probably just make it into its own post (with designs ofc). Tbh I haven't done as much work on this one as the others simply because I just don't know that much about music? Zel does though, so if I ever come back to it, I can go to him as a consultant.
Kind of an odd one, but I'm including it since it sorta counts, and I've become pretty fond of it over time.
Mom Lumine au(s)
Xiaother being Yanqing's dads is one of my favorite little crack aus. This au is the brainchild of imagining Yanqing as Lumine's child instead, but me as the author not enjoying xiaolumi as much. Thus, this was born. There's not really a story? Just a bunch of loosely put together concepts with multiple potential narratives that I find fun. Most of the time I default Childe as Yanqing's bio dad.
In a weird way, it makes sense in my head? Yanqing resembles Lumine and uses a sword, and has that same go-getting, battle-hungry attitude as Childe, with all the knock-outs to boot.
I mainly imagine chilumi as this interstellar crime duo; the Bonnie and Clyde of space, if you will. Because, honestly, if Yanqing's parents are ever to be revealed, would it not be the funniest thing for them to turn out to be criminals? I think it's hilarious, because Yanqing himself would be mortified.
Guardian Blade/Stellaron Hunter Yanqing au.
These names are kinda lazy cause I usually don't make official titles for them unless their a fic, which this one happens to be.
Here, Yanqing is an abomination of abundance, and as my interpretation usually goes, the only person who knows about this is Jing Yuan. Him and one other - blade, who was confided in the secret shortly after Jing Yuan had taken baby Yanqing in. Jing Yuan made Blade promise that, should the truth ever be uncovered and Jing Yuan punished, Blade is to take Yanqing and protect him. And years down the line, when the truth does finally reveal itself, Blade fulfills his promise.
Theoretically, Yanqing would then join the stellaron hunters, albeit unenthusiastically. I haven't actually made any plans for that concept outside of a single one-shot. I still need to finish the actual fic first lmao.
Mara-struck Jing Yuan au.
Probably the least original one I have to offer, because there's nothing particularly unique about it aside from one little twist I added that I think differentiates it, and that's that Yanqing doesn't actually kill Jing Yuan, or vice versa. Instead, Jing Yuan, in his current state, attacks everyone and everything except for Yanqing, and actually goes out of his way to keep Yanqing away from danger.
The way I rationalize this (and this is me stretching the mara lore a LOT) is that Yanqing is so important to Jing Yuan that he creates a sort of blind spot to the mara when present; he is both innately precious and harbors only positive memories in Jing Yuan's mind, so in a way, he retroactively contradicts the way mara-struck!Jing Yuan would normally perceive him, seeing Yanqing as something to protect rather than attack (i hope that made any sense </3).
This would probably never actually happen in canon. I just really like the idea of Jing Yuan's love for his son being so strong that it stays with him even after he's gone mad and can no longer remember what Yanqing means to him.
Progenitor au.
Saved this one for last because it's been occupying my entire brain for the past few days. It's based on Dillongoo's Progenitor Albedo series, and by based, I mean it's just the same au, same universe and everything, but HSR. I won't go into the details because I'm planning to make it its own dedicated post as well, but I think its safe to say its becoming my favorite au out of all of these. I already have some designs and original lore cooked up, so hopefully I can post about it soon.
I think that's all of them? Debatable if some of these even count as aus, but who cares. I hope you enjoyed my rambles and found my ideas interesting enough to read through. I'm hoping to eventually give them some more life and make actual content with them.
Till next time <3
#tumblr pls dont smite me for drawing man tibbies#honkai star rail#hsr#ask#hsr au#yanqing#jing yuan#high cloud quintet#hsr hcq#hsr blade#chimera jing yuan#why not#long post#fanart
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I hate writing why do I do this to myself. Die die die work. pain and suffering on the planet earth.
(⬆️ didn't plot a chapter properly and now it's 20 pages and the complex themes and symbolism and stuff in my head is not translating and the plot isn't even happening yet)
#Full disclosure: this is supposed to be dramatic and not serious#I love writing and I have a great time with it#but you know when you get stuck on a crossword puzzle?#and you're just staring at it or the paper is starting to rip because you've been erasing so much?#that's what it feels like#I'd really like help on this one#because it's good!#I have a plot and a summary and everything!#and complex themes and tension and conflict and anger!#but it's... not translating and the thoughts aren't linking!!!!#agere fic inspo#tw negative self talk#tw negative thoughts#personal tw
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need someone still up to date with mcyt/dream in general to tell me what to think
#i watched the whole vidoe & i still dont care#i just need like a 'heres what was good heres what was bad heres extra context' plot summary.#bc my takeaway having not cared for three years is 'oh its all normal bullshit twitter cancel culture' but im aware that i do not care.#and that he is definitely hyping himself up to be more innocent than he might be ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#i did think him. constantly talking about how well he handled situations. and how he supported victims. wss fuckin wrird#but otherwise im just so apathetic to everything. like whats real. whats fake. what does this video change.#i need the biased 'immersed in the drama' takes to balance out my one viewing of dreams essays or whatever the fuck#dreamwastaken#mcyt#m
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