#and I can’t speak on this personally but of course one of the results of this was his name ending up used by some as a perjorative for like

[steveyockey]

wait sorry i think i'm missing some context here what does short round mean

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Bad Blood

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: franco colapinto x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: tensions started rising in the williams garage when bad strategies pitted you and your teammate, franco against each other. after spotting him in a bar the night of a race the two of you bonded over your shared bad result. 

♥ one-shot - wc: 1.6k

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, drinking, and vaguely suggestive !!!

♥ a/n: rivals to lovers + forced proximity, go nuts babe. btw there’s some salty team vibes so i just wanna say i love williams (except james) this is purely for the plot lol

“Plan B, Y/n. Plan B,” you engineer said on the radio of your car.

”Is Franco undercutting me?” you asked, shifting down into a corner.

“We think this is the best decision point-wise.”

“You’re joking.”

“Y/n stick to the strategy, you’ll get your time eventually.” they responded.

“No this is bullshit. What advantage are you giving him? He can’t chase down Kmag any better than I can—at least he doesn’t have the pace right now. I don’t see why you’re making him the priority.”

You reached the end of the main straight watching as your teammate exited the pit lane in front of you.

He was on hard tires, an extremely odd choice for the end of this race. You were trying to complete the last 20 laps on softs while your teammate tried to make up positions on the opposite compound. Wait why the fuck would they put him on those tires? If they were aiming for an undercut, they were certainly going to fail with this strategy. 

You dove down into the apex and collided with Franco, who was turning in front of you. You both spun out into the gravel, ending your race. 

It was always like this. Somehow you always found yourself competing against Franco no matter where you went. 

“Fuck,” you yelled on the radio as you threw your HANS device outside of the car. 

“Are you okay?” your engineer questioned.

“Yup, yeah I’m fine.” you responded. 

The Williams team could hear faint breathing from Franco. 

“Is she ok?” he asked. 

“Yes, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

-

You scrolled through your phone in your driver's room, coming across a couple of posts about the situation.

@fcswife “is she okay?” FRANCO THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 😭❤️

@charlesgf16 she really has zero respect for franco huh?

@francodefender1 how could anyone hate him? 😩

You rolled your eyes and clicked off the device, throwing it onto a different cushion on the couch. You were going to need a drink. 

-

Later that night you retreated to a bar you were unfamiliar with. A couple of F2 drivers in your circle mentioned it in passing and considering you couldn't fluently speak the language of the country you were visiting, you hoped to run into a few people you knew.

The room was dark, loud, and packed. You could hear music playing over the sound of dozens of drunk voices. You pushed your way through the crowd of people towards the front of the bar in order to get a drink.

You spotted a familiar face when you arrived. To your dismay it was the only person you wished not to talk to at that moment. His brown curls were immediately identifiable and if that wasn't enough, the fluorescent lighting illuminated his face, drawing your eyes towards the small mole on his cheek.

You looked around for a place to avoid him, but all the booths were taken and the only open bar stool was the one next to Franco.

Because of course it was.

You sighed and took the seat next to him, trying your hardest to avoid eye contact.

"A bottle of Dom Perignon please," you asked, causing Franco to snort.

“What?” you shifted your gaze towards him.

“Champagne is for winners,” he said, looking you straight in the eye.

It wasn’t like he was incorrect. Champagne was for the podium—but you had a long day and it was time to treat yourself. Regardless, you rolled your eyes at the man’s comment.

Franco waved over the bartender to get a glass and help himself to the bottle of alcohol.

“You can venmo me,” you said only half joking as he poured himself some champagne.

A small tv in the corner of the bar had a replay of the race and press.

”There were a lot of emotions definitely, uhm I think the decisions tire wise for the strategy weren’t great. It’s frustrating to see the prioritization of your teammate but I guess I have no input on whether that goes to me or Franco each race. We had a rough week overall as a team but I hope we can bounce back.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you… you were right. Both our strategies were fucked.” he said referencing your post race interview, “They screwed us both.”

The two of you never really got along, but at least neither blamed each other for the crash. It was just a racing incident and it didn’t have to prevent you from finally having a civil conversation with Franco.

“To screwing us both,” you smiled while raising your glass of champagne, eliciting a chuckle out of him.  

He clinked his cup to yours with a smirk and took a small sip. 

From that point on your distaste for him slowly started to die down and you began to have a mutual understanding.

-

The next race went over far smoother than the last. Franco ended up in P5 with you right behind him in P6; an incredible result for the two of you and the team.

You jumped out of your car and strolled your way over to his. The camera picked up on you patting his helmet and mumbling something.

Of course this was going to be all your media feed would show for the next few days.

-

That night you found yourself at a far more tame pub than the last.

“From the gentleman across the bar,” a server said, causing you to look up from your phone and towards the direction he was pointing. 

Franco was leaning against the counter with a grin. He raised his eyebrows quickly and waved.

You took a sip of the cold blue drink in front of you and waved back. His eyes stayed locked on you as you pulled out your phone and unblocked a number.

You 

is there red bull in this? 

+1800******

yea 

You got a text back immediately, prompting you to change the contact name. 

You

i think that’s a sin

Franco

oh?

You

yea if i can’t drive it i shouldn’t be drinking it  

Franco

i guess it’s too bad williams doesn’t make energy drinks

You

come sit with me

-

Tensions were still high on track between the two of you but the minute race weekend was over it was like someone flipped a switch.

A few weeks flew by and people started to notice your behavior towards Franco. By now there were probably dozens of pictures of you looking very cozy together at parties, but not getting along at the circuits or simply ignoring each other in the paddock.

Of course people were getting suspicious. Maybe this was a ruse to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe it was all staged for Netflix. Or maybe—you two didn’t really know what you were.

-

“Che,” a voice called out to you in spanish, instantly grabbing your attention.

You spotted Franco in a booth at the back of the club. It was far darker in that corner, but with the flashing lights and loud music you were glad he picked a more secluded area.

The building was full with the familiar faces of drivers and team members.

”Look at you,” he said, impressed.

You laughed and did a small spin, showing off your dress. You knew he’d liked it and by the memory you had earlier this evening, it seemed as though a lot of people would.

”Another date with Franco, huh?” Kika smirked while putting on some dangly earrings. “It’s not a date,” you protested. She spun her body around to face you. “This,” she gestured to your outfit. “Is for a date.”

You slid into the booth next to him, setting your black clutch purse beside you.

Franco’s hand firmly grabbed your thigh to steady himself as he shifted closer towards you. Your eyes darted down to the action but he didn’t seem to notice. His grip loosened as he settled and he started rubbing small circles with the pad of his thumb.

A small hum escaped your lips, barely audible over the music and voices, but there was no way in hell your soft noises wouldn’t catch his attention.

”¿Esto está bien?” (is this ok?) he asked in a whisper, causing you to only nod.

His face moved closer to yours, and you wasted no time cupping his cheeks in your hands, and connecting your lips.

You melted into the kiss knowing damn well you daydreamed about this an embarrassing amount.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, tasting the gloss you applied earlier. You opened your mouth to allow him entrance and he dragged his fingertips further up the inside of your thigh.

Franco moved down to your neck leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His index and middle fingers brushed the lace of your lingerie, causing him to smirk against you.

“Stand up,” he demanded. He slipped out of the booth and pulled you onto your feet. You grabbed your clutch as he guided you through the crowd, hand-in-hand.

He opened the chiming door and the two of you stepped onto the wet cobblestone. Your heels clicked on the ground as he guided you to his car in the rain.

He pulled open the passenger seat door for you.

“Wow, we weren’t even in there a couple of minutes,” you stated.

“I think we’ve had enough time to talk… quiero llevarte a casa…” (i want to take you home) he leaned down and mumbled to you.

“O en este caso mi hotel,” (or in this case my hotel) “unless you’d rather go back inside..” he trailed off.

You shook your head in protest to his last works and a light chuckle slipped through his lips.

”Alright then,” he smirked, getting into the drivers seat.

[sonotdaiisy]

“OKOKOKLALALA” ⸺ Haerin x reader

Haerin wasn’t the type of girlfriend to talk much. You on the other hand was the complete opposite of her. Haerin some how always finds herself whispering sweet words to you whenever you’re down.

GENRE ⸺ Fluff, established relationship, comfort

WARNINGS ⸺ they had a very short kiss, degrading thoughts.

WC ⸺ 541

Many thought you and Haerin made a perfect match due to one reason.

Haerin was known for her quiet and mature like demeanor. While you on the other hand was the Complete opposite of her. You were an absolute chatter box. You could ramble from morning till night without getting tired.

Many even referred the both of you to that one song that goes “okokokokok” “lalalalala” because Haerin couldn’t help but be all ears whenever the smallest amount of words slip out from your mouth.

she just can’t bring herself to say “whatever I don’t care about what she’s rambling about, I’ll just ignore her” she just couldn’t think nor say that.

Today was like any usual bright day for you.

Of course you were being a literal sunshine in class, constantly making your classmates to laugh due to your effortlessly funny personality.

But that also brought some degrading words from students who envied your outgoing personality and your ability to get everyone all smiley and giggly.

As much as you tired to shrug off those words your mind couldn’t help but drift back to it once in a while.

You thought it would just be better if you let shit through out the day. It would be better right? No one to hear your annoying voice. No one to hear your stupid laugh.

Ughhh why are their words just getting into you heard??? You thought to yourself as you gripped tightly onto your hair in frustration.

your mind was too focused on how you were currently feeling that you didn’t notice your girlfriend enter the library.

You didn’t even notice her presence until she slipped in and sat right beside you.

“Is everything okay?” She asked softly, noticing the frustration in your eyes.

Looking around, you hesitated for a while before letting out a sigh, looking up at Haerin in the eyes. “Rin..I want you to be very honest with me” you asked, tone serious and firm.

“Uhh o-okay…” Haerin gulped nodding her head as she patiently waits for you to speak.

“…..Am I annoying when I talk too much?”

Your unexpected question obviously caught her off guard. “Annoying?” She repeated not liking the word used in the previous sentence one bit.

“No you’re not annoying.. I personally think, you’re the cutest whenever you ramble a lot. I don’t know, there’s just something about the excitement in your eyes that just makes me happy” she smiled, gently placing her hand on top of yours.

“If anyone ever dares to call you annoying, just let me know. So I can teach them a lesson” she threaten with a fake menacing look.

You let out a small giggle which resulted Haerin to soften her gaze at you.

She leaned in forwards to push a strand of hair behind your ear as she stared deeply into your eyes.

Her gaze averted up from your eyes down to your lips.

Without warning, she leaned in even closer. Closing the gap between the both of you lips.

She pulled away, a small smile tugging onto her mouth. “You’re the sweetest and cutest girl I ever know. I love you!”

[missmimii]

𖤐 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝐌 ~ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which Matt convinces his girlfriend to film a video in a haunted house, the fearful events taking a turn for the better once he gives her the perfect distraction to keep her fright at bay.

✰-

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, f!oral receiving (Matt the munch forever), language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!

♡︎－ 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ * This is probably the first time I’ve written detailed smut, so let me know how I did/how I can improve! Ily guys so much, and I appreciate the recent support. It’s surreal ❤︎︎

୨ৎ － 𝐰𝐜 - 𝟕.𝟒𝐤

Starting on the current day going forward, Y/n made a promise to herself to never agree to be in a video with Matt ever again. Granted- she should’ve known he was up to no good when he offered his affection as a payment, but it was Matt.

The same Matt whose bribe seemed oddly similar to the many occasions he’d want to cling onto the girls side, press his face in the crook of her neck as he whispered all of the sinful things he thought of the beautiful girl. So when he said he’d fuck her till she saw stars, purely just for her appearance in a video, she thought nothing of it.

Because he loved his girlfriend.

Y/n was used to being in the triplets content regularly, which was given, seeing as she was the triplet’s girlfriend. Other than the odd occasions where she’d take a beat to focus on her own life as well as her personal career.

Said videos usually consisted of the four doing small activities that they knew the girl enjoyed. Q&A’s, because as much as she denied the accusations (she was fond of saying silly little facts about herself). Or something as simple as vlogging themselves shopping at thrift stores, a side hobby of the girls, that may have been a slight problem.

Just something to show off his gratitude and love for his girlfriend, showed the people watching that the angel was in fact, a very important piece in the scrambled puzzle of his life.

And though he loved his brothers, he couldn’t deny that one of the main reasons her got up every day, and stayed consistent with filming content, was because of the girl. He wanted to make her proud of his work, his job being the third on his lists of his best accomplishments.

𝟏－Nick & Chris

𝟐－Y/n (and how he managed to bag such a perfect, beautiful girl)

𝟑－His career

But because their content was usual tame and collected, random vlogs, that always consisted of activities that never were considered strange, Y/n immediately agreed to make an appearance in there latest video. Matt, on the other hand, inwardly cringed to himself at her lack of hesitation.

Was he lying to her? Not exactly. But was he avoiding telling her the full truth? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Small tea lights surrounded the group, as well as the blue rope that was laid out on the unstable floorboards beneath. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat whenever she heard a creak, forgetting that it was the century old flooring.

I can’t believe he talked me into this.

Because the girl was away for work for days on end, weeks- even, she didn’t hear everything about what happened back in LA in her absence. Of course they’d FaceTime as much as possible, but he as always to damn distracted, watching her.

Matt would watch her plump lips speak at a perfect pace through the camera, biting on the edge of his thumb as he wondered how amazing they’d feel against his own lips. She’s so fucking beautiful. Miss’ her so much. I wonder how it’d feel to be inside her right in this very moment.

And in result of his overwhelming thoughts of her, the reoccurring subject during these late night calls would also be her. Matt always missed her. Missed her touch, her voice, her perfect nails that would lightly scratch against his back as she lulled him to sleep at night, his head gently placed between her plush breasts.

Apparently (according to the man himself) Matt found himself missing the girl so much, that as he babbled on and on about how much he needed her, wanted her, and could practically feeling his cock being squeezed by the walls of her pussy, he might’ve forgot to mention that Nick had set up a collab with the two ghost hunters.

Y/n stared down at the illuminated rope that was weaved around the large group, flashes of blue and red intermittently sparking along the rope. An EMF cord. She was quite literally, being surrounded by hundreds of entities.

Lord please help me.

The girl flinched a bit as she felt a hand being pressed on the small of her back, immediately thinking ghost. “Woah.” Matt chuckled, looking down at the distressed girl as she blew out a soft gasp. “You alright?” The triplet tilted his head, running his hand comfortingly down her back.

Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, silently shaking her head while simultaneously reaching out for his hand. Matt’s eyebrows drew together with worry, but didn’t hesitate before taking in her smaller, trembling one into his large hand. “Say the word and the video is scrapped.” She immediately shook her head.

“No- you’ve been looking forward for this for a while now.” Matt felt his stomach swoop with guilt, watching his beautiful girl run a distressed hand through the tendrils of her hair. “And Nick.” He rose a brow at the mention of triplet. “He hasn’t shut up about the stupid- ETES test, for weeks.” She stressed out.

Matt softly chuckled, sliding the hand that rest on her back to gently grip her waist. “I don’t care what Nick wants. The kids spoiled.” Y/n rolled her eyes at the childish remark, but felt her lips tip upward at the corners. “I care that you’re okay, baby.” His other hand cupped her cheek, soothingly running the pad of his thumb over the scar nearing the corner of her eye.

Matt watched in adoration as the girls eyelashes fluttered against her pink cheeks, batting them unintentionally as she peered up at him with that expression he could never get enough of. “I’ll be okay. I’m just being a big baby.” Y/n grumbled the last part in a soft voice, not even wanting the words to leave her mouth.

His lips fell into a smirk as he hummed, the thumb that rest against her cheek sliding down the dewy skin of her jaw and seductively smoothing over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “That’s because you are one.” Y/n’s frown deepened, as well as a redness illuminating against her cheeks.

Matt grunted at the sight, watching a stain of pink smudge against his thumb while it slid from her lips. “Cut it out.” He murmured, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he leered down at the girl with a dark expression. Y/n lifted an eyebrow, maybe with a slight attitude. “The pout.” Matt added.

Oh. The girl couldn’t help herself, a grin beaming across her pink lips as she cocked her head up at him. “And why’s that?” Y/n inquired, the false innocence apparent to the triplet, being fully aware of her games.

Matt felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the nymph, feeling himself aching below through carpenter jeans he wore regularly. “Why?” He repeated, giving the girl a final chance to correct whatever little attitude she was about to cop.

Y/n hummed, zero hesitation as she placed a hand on his chest and drug the sharp ends of her nails along the thin fabric of his graphic tee. “Mhm..” His breath got caught in his throat as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, before forcing them into a small pout. “Is it because you don’t like to see me sad?” Fuck it.

The girl immediately yelped as she was being tugged forward, the hand of his that once rested gently against her waist, now used as leverage to bring her closer. “Sad, huh?” Chills went up at her arms, Matt’s breath feathering against the shell of her ear as he brought her into the warmth of his body. “If you keep up that little look, you’ll see just how fuckin’ hard you being ‘sad’ gets me.” He gritted against her ear.

All the girl could do was stand there, mouth gaping as she took in his words. Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat, she flicked her gaze away. “Looking forward to it.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes.

The remark wasn’t intended for his ears, fully. A sick part in the girl wanted him to hear the snarky tone, but the other, sane half, knew it was possibly the worst time to rile the man up. And if there was one thing that Y/n knew for sure, it was that Matt wouldn’t respond positively.

And he didn’t.

She got exactly one step away from him before she felt a hand gripping her wrist, chills going up her arms at the contact. “Repeat that.” Y/n felt the racing of the triplets heart as he tugged her closer, the girls back brushing against his chest.

The girl opened and closed her mouth, scrambling for a reply, or rather a lie. “I-” She practically whined as he hummed against her neck, knowing that it was a warning. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence!” The girl rushed out, spinning around to face the boy.

He lifted a brow, urging her to continue as she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “I said.. looking’ forward to doing the ETES test.” She rushed out, sending him a sheepish smile.

Matt looked at her for a solid seven seconds, before his lips broke out into a smile. He just couldn’t help it. She looked as angelic as always, the flyaway hairs framing her adorable expressionisms perfectly. Matt found himself amused by her bratty approach, and though his hand did itch to slap that beautiful ass of hers, he knew to tread lightly when she was sensitive in situations like now.

“Mhm.” He shook his head a bit, rolling his eyes as he forced the smile from his lips. “Careful, kid.” Y/n, being unable to help herself, reached up and pinched his one cheek with a soft giggle. “Saw that. You aren’t slick, buddy.” The girl teased on, still giggling at his past reaction to her brattiness.

Men were too easy.

“Stop flirting with each other and get the fuck over here, you two!”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, the momentary distraction Matt had offered her now long vanished at the sound of the youngest triplets shout. A searing light blared into the couples eye as they turned back to the group. “Jesus, Chris.” Matt hissed, using his one hand to cover his own eyes, the reaching out to guard the girls. “Put the fucking flashlight down, dummy.”

Chris being Chris, pointed at his brother and laughed, simultaneously waving the light in front of his face. “Chris,” Another voice chimed in, the black light being snatched from his hand. Nick glared as he stood aside the younger triplet, using the handle end of the flashlight to poke his side. “Stop be a fucking child.” He hissed.

Chris yelped, jumping away from the contact. “Ouchh.” All three of them, Y/n Matt and Nick, watched as the childish male hunched over while holding his side. “I’m actually burning all of your shit, Nick.” He continued to overexaggerate his pain, before abruptly reaching out to slap the eldest twin.

Matt rolled his eyes, already seeing the fight that was to break out before it even began. Wrapping two arms around her from behind, he tugged Y/n back into his chest while taking a step back from the two. Y/n stumbled backward, lips parting as she fell into the warmth of his chest with a small umph.

Her arms were comfortingly trapped beneath the boy’s tattooed ones as he leaned his head down to her ear. “You staying’ at my house tonight?” He mumbled against her jaw, the bridge of his nose brushing along her cheek as he placed a soft peck just below her ear.

She giggled at the contact, shifting a bit in his hold. “I don’t think I could even fathom sleeping alone after this.” He hummed, placing another light kiss on the area.

“After what? This, or the ghosts?” Chills went up her arms as he whispered the words against her face, the warmth of his breath grazing the curve of her jaw sensually. “Would you be shifting in bed, chills like this,” He ran his thumb along her arm, making a whimper emit from her lips. “-all up every inch of your body, because of how much you needed me? Or will it be the nightmares?” He murmured.

Y/n was basically panting as he finally ended his sentence, a bead of sweat slowly sliding down the span of her back, just between her trapezius. “… maybe a little bit of both.” She whispered softly, the words hitting Matthew’s ears like a velvety melody.

As if there were a record player in the man’s head, the vinyl that was Y/n’s voice played on repeat in his mind, resulting in the desperate aching sensation he felt growing in his jeans. “Fuck.” Matt cursed himself, momentarily looking heavenward.

“Who’s ready for the test?”

All heads turn at the sound of a voice that may have been a touch too enthusiastic for the current events. The two friends, Sam and Colby standing side by side, both grinning ear to ear. Y/n shook her head incredulously. Who was I to judge their weird little hobbies.

Nicks hand flew up, making the girl giggle softly. “I’m so fucking ready.” Chris nodded in agreement, both boys having already decided they’d go first for the test. Matt was hesitant at the beginning, not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to say anything that may have freaked the girl out.

His upmost priority was keeping her calm, and so far his attempts hadn’t failed. “What about you two?” Colby pointed his index fringe in between the couple, lifting a brow. Matt slowly looked down, seeing the girls face absolutely terrified.

She was quite literally froze with fear, gaping at the dark haired male with wide eyes. “Like-now?” Y/n stumbled with her words, hands wringing together anxiously.

Colby nodded nonchalantly. “After these two, yeah.” He mumbled, fumbling with the camera before flicking his gaze back to the girl. “Only if you feel comfortable with it.” The male added quickly, noticing the slight warning look Matt was throwing his way.

The girl averted her gaze downward, her breathing having picked up rapidly in pace. She couldn’t- she wouldn’t. Matt suddenly adjusted the gentle hold he had on her, nudging around so she faced him. “Hey,” She shook her head. “Look at me.” Matt reached out, tipping her chin upward.

Y/n blinked up at the blue eyed boy, fighting back the tears of frustration as she gazed up at him. “I really don’t want to.” He immediately nodded, using his thumb to effortlessly brush away the one lone tear that had fallen. “And you don’t have to, yeah?” She sniffed a bit, shutting her eyes for a brief pause.

She was that friend.

She felt like one of those kids who dipped their feet in the pool instead of swimming because they couldn’t. “… I’ll do it if you do it with me.” She blurted out, her hands balling into fists.

Matt’s eyes widened at his girlfriend’s sudden change in attitude. “You want to do it?” She nodded, making the triplets face churn with even more confusion. “You- you want to do the ETES test? Talk to ghosts-” The more he went on, the more frightened she became, but he couldn’t help it.

What the fuck had gotten into his girlfriend?

Y/n groaned and softly shoved his chest. “Stop talking about it!” She whispered hissed, making him immediately halt his ranting. Matt blew out a breath, scratching the back of his head as he looked down at the girl. “Okay.” He nodded.

Her eyebrows flew up. “Just ‘okay’? Not, ‘okay I’ll do it with you’ or oka-” She was cut off from her rambling as set of lips were placed against hers, immediately resulting in her emitting a soft. She felt her entire body drop as the weight fell from her shoulders, Matt’s perfectly soft lips moulding against hers passionately.

The triplet let his eyes lull shut as he pressed himself closer into the girls body, both hands cupping her flushed cheeks as he smiled into the kiss. “Yes,” The boy muttered into between kisses. “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He chuckled, placing soft pecks around her mouth and jaw.

The girls nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation, giggling as she pushed her hands against the triplet’s chests. “Matt!” She exclaimed in an undertone, still laughing as she attempted to shove him away. “Cut it out.” The male shook his head, lightly nipping at her cheek.

“Can’t help it.” His speech came out slurred with his lips pressed against the soft skin of her cheek. “You look so fucking good with in this jacket- and that fuckin’ top.” Matt practically whined against her jaw, thumbing over the opening of her cropped shirt.

Maybe ghosts weren’t too scary …

✰-

“Holy fuck, man.”

Chris practically trampled through the closest door, slamming the door on Nicks face as he tore the merlot fabric from his eyes. “Those ghosts almost talk more than Nick.” He snickered, wincing as Nick pinched his side. “Kidding.” He grumbled.

Y/n watched as the door creaked open, the dusty sofa sitting inside awaiting the couple. I can’t believe I was doing this. Matt held both pieces of red fabric, feeling himself even slightly uneasy as he looked in the meekly lit room.

Dread. The girl was dreading the second her bottom landed on the leather sofa, and she was just about prepared to do anything to prolong it. Y/n felt her palms dampen with sweat, her hand twitching at the urge to reach out and grip Matt’s sleeve.

He’s right beside me- I’ll be fine.

The triplet beat her to it though, seeing her overwhelmed state as she shrunk into her own body, prompting him to reach out and grab her trembling hand. Her head snapped in his direction, finding the males eyes already on hers. “Good?” He asked, raising a brow.

Butterflies pressed against her stomach as her dilated pupils gazed into his blue eyes, feeling the world around her spin at the look that illuminated from his eyes. How could one look hold so much … love?

She blinked twice, shaking herself from whatever trance she was in. “Yes- yeah.” The girl uttered, looking down at their intertwined hands as she fiddled with the ring woven around his index finger. “Are you?” She murmured.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up at the inquiry. “Yeah.. m’fine doll.” Seeing her meek nod, he softly chuckled. “Are you sure?”

Y/n nipped at her bottom lip, flicking her eyes back up to the triplet’s. “Mhm.” At her nod, Matt offered one of his own.

It was on the tip of her tongue, she just had to say the word and he’d happily lift the girl into his arms, and walk out of the dump of house. The content mine as well have been nothing to him if his girl wasn’t okay the entire time.

“Here,” The male mumbled, the girl freezing with confusion. “Turn around for me sweetheart.” Her lips formed an ‘O’, and she turned her back to him. Matt carefully brushed away the few strands of hair that framed her face, making sure that none of them got caught as he gently tied the red fabric over her eyes.

Y/n sucked in a breath, her vision going black as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms. “Atta’ girl.” She heard him murmur by her ear, before her nose crinkled as he pressed a harsh kiss on the side of her head.

“Matt.” She hushed, chuckling as she dodged his wandering touch. The tips of his fingers thumbed against the fabric, double checking that she in fact, could not see.

Something sinister ignited in the triplet as soon as her ability of seeing was enabled, a smirk cursing his lips. Touch would be so … sensational. She’d never know where his hand would glide off to next. Feeling her breath get caught in her throat, Y/n froze as she felt Matt brush his hand against bare skin of her abdomen. “Matt?” She whispered softly.

…

The girl was met with silence, resulting in a wave of confusion rolling over her body. Along with a spark set off in her core as she felt that same hand began to toy with the button of her jean shorts. A breath was sucked in as headphones were placed atop her head, the muffled sound of her own heart becoming the only thing she could hear.

Boom boom boom

The muffled sound of people talking was drowned out as the girls heart beat through her ears, Matthew’s feathering touch grazing her lower stomach. The boy bit down on his bottom lip as he watched his own fingers just barley pop the button her shorts open, the heat igniting within his body killing him.

God I need her.

Anger consumed his mood as he managed to pry his touch from the girls soft skin, knowing that the group was waiting for him to get on with the damn test. Jaw clenching as he snuggly knotted the fabric over his eyes, now unable to see the unworldly woman right in front of him.

“You guys all set?” Sam exclaimed, his voice coming off far too enthusiastic. Matt nodded stiffly, as did the girl.

Matt guided his hand lower, gently wrapping his larger one around the girls. “Feel for the door, hm?” He breathed against her ear, keeping his body close to hers as they walk forward. Y/n sucked in a breath, feeling the obvious hardness that pressed into her backside. “Kay’.” She murmured.

The triplet felt his lips tip up, rubbing the pad of this thumb against her wrist as they continued to move close to the door. Both of their steps came to a halt as Y/n’s hand brushed the corner of the door, using her hand to shove it open so they could enter. “Good luck you two!” Colby yelled, chuckling as he said something to the camera afterwards.

Good luck indeed.

A cold chill ran up the girls back, blowing out a breath as kept the urge to wrap her arms around herself. “It’s so cold.” She mumbled, her own voice muffled to the triplets ears. The room was pitch black other than the few tea candles, not that either parties would know due to the bonding around their eyes.

Unexpectedly, the feeling of dread that she assumed would stem from hearing ghosts, wasn’t what had her shaking. It was the overwhelming presence of her boyfriend, she could practically feel him breathing down her neck from several steps away.

But how could he help it? Matt leaned back against the wall, heart pattering painfully as he reached down to palm the raging erection that was now prominent through his pants. Fuck- how was I supposed to focus on ghosts when I was this fucked up? His head tipped against the hard brick wall, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he resisted the urge to fist his cock.

The room was freezing, sending the hairs on his arms straight up as he fought his inner turmoil. Fuck it. Within seconds he was ripping the headset from his head, the thin fabric covering his eyes flowing to the floor immediately after.

Y/n stood in the same place as before, nipping at the skin around her thumb as she awaited .. anything. A whisper, a random breeze, words, anything that indicated something paranormal. Minutes after minutes went by, before she sucked in an abrupt breath.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt a gust of air graze from behind her, before vanishing within mere seconds. It was as if a spider had crawled past her, the fight or flight instincts fully in activation. That was before a low voice was spoken through the speaker of the headphones, making her flinch.

Behind you.

Y/n froze in fear, shaking violently as she fought back tears. “Matt?” Her voice came out wobbly, cracking nearing the end of her sentence. Even if he had replied, she wouldn’t have been able to hear due to the headphones.

Matt watched as the girl froze, lips curving into a smirk as he stalked forward. His poor baby, he cooed to himself, finally using his one hand to girl the side of her waist from behind. “Shh..” He quieted the timid girl as she lurched forward, obviously not expecting the touch.

Y/n felt her shoulders tense, her blood running cold as a hand squeezed her waist. It was Matt- it had to be. The sane part of her knew it was him, but the other told her it was an entity. This fear only multiplied by ten as another hand reached out from behind her, slim fingers dragging across her trachea.

Matt bit down on his lip as he felt the girls body shake against his, his fingers fiddling with the locket around her neck. He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories of the night he’d gifted to her, the events feeling oddly recent. It was their two year anniversary, and also the week before her birthday.

He wanted the girl to feel special, for her to know that she was everything he could ever dream for. It was a small butterfly locket that embroidered her birthstone right in the middle, the jewel glimmering against her untainted skin during any given moment of the day.

He quickly came to realize his love the necklace that same night. As the girl straddled his lap in the seat of his car, the small charm dangling down against his neck as she tightened herself around his cock, riding him like her life depended on it.

She practically went limp in his lap, her chest falling against his as she breathlessly moaned next to his ear. He locked away the lewd sounds in the back of his brain, seeing as it was odd that she was overly expressive in bed. He always knew she felt good as her hands gripped the sheets, or went he felt his dick being practically suffocated by the walls of her pussy as she clamped around him.

Matt let the thoughts cloud his mind, the desperation of needing her becoming overwhelming. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself, the hand that brushed against her neck flattening against the surface, entrapping the sides of her neck in his strong hand.

Almost immediately after, a whimper came from the girls lips. “Matt?” Yes. He wanted to say it so fucking bad. Hold the girl to his chest as he assured her it was him who had gotten ahold of her. But something.. portentous came over him.

The triplet felt the girls pulse thrum in his hold, a sadistic feeling setting in his heart. Something told him to slam her against the side of the wall, to fill her up so good with his cock, proving that he was the only person capable of making her feel so good, her eyes rolling back into her skull as she realized it was him.

He blew out a breath, shakily removing the headphones from atop her head, tossing them off to the couch. “Baby..” Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, breathing out a deep sigh as she recognized the voice to be her boyfriends. Though, at the exact moment of relief, her stomach tightened at the tone of voice she knew all too well.

The same husky octave his voice dropped to whenever he got himself worked up, slowly drifting off into a whiny one as he begged to be inside her. “Stop fucking with me, Matt.” The girl finally managed to hiss out, shifting in his hold.

He groaned as her ass dug into the tent in his jeans, still fighting against his hold. “Cut it out.” He snapped, squeezing the outside of her neck lightly, the gesture a clear warning. Y/n rolled her eyes, anger consuming her.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Matt chuckled a bit, hearing the whine in her voice as she spoke. “You know I’m not good with all of this, be gentle.” She murmured.

His heart swooped a bit as he hummed, placing a peck on the back of her head. “Gentle, hm?” The girl bobbed her head, still experiencing the aftershocks of the momentary fear she’d experienced. “I’ll be so fuckin’ gentle with you, doll.” He whispered against the shell of her ears, making her shiver.

Her hand instinctively reached around to unbind the tie around her eyes, the motion being halted as a larger one caught her hand. “Leave it.” Matt muttered, the girl slowly lowering her hand to her side as she hearted the warning in his tone.

What the fuck had gotten into him?

The hand that was on her waist slowly trailed down her side, sensually grazing her hip dip before his fingers began to toy with her shorts button. “These are adorable, baby.” Matt murmured as he looked down at his own movements, feeling lost in his own thoughts.

He’d been thinking it all night. The girl looked too fuckable. Even if it wasn’t purposeful, her every move had the triplet leaning on a wall as he begged his body to not react the ways it begged for. Sam had even stopped him at one point during the night, placing a hand in his shoulders as he gave his friend a look of concern.

“You alright man?” He’d inquiry.

Matt could only offer a dry nod as he leaned off of the wall, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he did his best to adjust his raging hard on without the rest of the group noticing.

Y/n’s breath hitched as the ends of two of the males fingers slowly dipped down the hem of her shorts, the material scraping against her thighs that were painfully clamped together, her body now reaching to much more sensitively with his touch. “Matt,” The girl whispered. “Your brothers are literally right outside.” She hissed.

He hummed, chuckling as he heard the girl whimper when she felt his fingers scrape along the lace of her undergarment. “Guess you’ll have to be quiet then, huh?” Much to her dismay, Matt’s hand withdrew itself from her small shorts.

A sense of relief filled her simultaneously, knowing that she wouldn’t have to force herself to stay silent if he really had decided to go further, but with that came the frustration end. Matt had been fucking with her all night, nothing short of grabbing her ass whenever she bent over to arranged the EMF cord, or whispering sinful things into her ear.

Shocked, a yelp escaped her mouth as she was suddenly being lifted from her feet, two hands snuggly wrapped around her lower waist from behind. “What-” She cut herself off, jaw going ajar as Matt spun her around, the two hands slipping down and cupping the undersides of her thighs. “What’re doing?!” She whispered.

The look of absolute horror on her face made Matt’s eyes twinkle with love, being completely immersed in her every expression. “Giving the ghosts a show.” He whispered, a smile creeping on his lips as he watched her pupils dilate.

She felt her back press against the cold stone wall, her oversized leather jacket scraping against the rock as he adjusted her body against the surface. The girls legs instinctively wrapped themselves around the males sides, her bottom landing on his thigh as he pressed knee against the wall as a makeshift seat.

“Like’ my pretty little trophy.” She felt the blindfold feather down from her eyes, gazing down at him with a heavy stare as he inhaled deeply, chest heaving. Both of his hands rested on her hips, molding around the area as he guided her lower half closer.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, fighting back the moan that threatened to bubble up as her core ignited with a burst of arousal, the hardness of his thigh pressing into her heat. “Fuck- Matt.” She gasped out, sending him a glare.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk crossing his plump, a small pop sound registering in the girls ear as she looked down. Matt effortlessly undid the button of her shorts, following the action with tugging the denim down her smooth thighs. “Say the word.” Matt’s tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he pulled the shorts down her thighs, stopping mid way to look up into her eyes.

He waited, and waited, just for her to tell him to stop. But he was met with silence. That was until two hands were gripping the neckline of the triplets shirt, pulling him closer into the warmth of her body. “Just- do something.” She finally managed out, a whine drawing out at the end of her plea.

Matthew immediately began to slip her bottoms off, chuckling huskily as he shook his head. “Such a little brat.” She leaned her weight on the surface of his muscular thigh, lifting her hips for easier access as Matt tugged the denim the rest of the way down, the shorts slipping down and hooking around her one ankle.

The male didn’t move with haste, taking his sweet time to lower himself to his knees, carefully lifting and placing the girls legs around his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands softly pry her thighs apart, littering small pecks to the inside of the dewy skin as he made his way through her two plush thighs.

One touch, one little graze of his lips against the lace of her faded pink underwear was all it took for her thighs to clamp around his head. With hooded eyes, he flicked his gaze up to the unknowing girl. “Baby,” Her head snapped down as she heard him tut, catching the look of his face. “Open your damn legs.” He muttered, hardening his gaze.

He didn’t have ask twice. “Atta’ girl.” He praised as her thighs parted, leaving the perfect amount of space for his head to slip between. Y/n assumed that the demand was finally going to result in her being touched. But much to her dismay, he continued to taunt her.

Whimpering as he nipped at her thigh, right next to where she needed him, she reached down and threaded a hand through his tousled hair. “Don’t give me that half assed shit.’ She whined, gritting her teeth a bit as the sexual frustration grew.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, his fingertips teasing the hem lace of her underwear.

He leisurely slid the itchy material down her thighs, biting down on his bottom lip as he caught sight of her glistening core. “All for me. huh, baby?” Y/n nodded with a small hum, chest heaving as she peered down at him, Matt’s perfect lips pursing as he blew a cold stream of air onto the sensitive skin of her pussy.

“Matt.” His one hand that gripped the underside of her thigh lightly squeezed the area. “I know baby, I know.” He murmured. Within seconds the frustration she felt had passed, as Matt’s lips began moving against her lower ones. “Fuck.” She moaned breathily, her head falling back against the wall.

His tongue slipped between her slick folds, harshly lapping at her core as if he was savouring every inch of her. “So fuckin’ good.” He moaned softly against her.

Her eyes that had lulled shut with pleasure, slowly pulled open at the sound of Matt’s small whisper. “Huh?” She reached her hand down, running her fingers through his brunette hair before gently tugging his head up.

“What’d you say?” Y/n patted his cheek lightly, trying to snap him out of whatever hazy high he’d put himself in. As more wetness trickled down the insides of her thighs, Matt’s eyes had visibly blurred over, pupils dilated as he looked up at his girlfriend with need. “S’just so good.” The boy panted out.

Eyebrows knitting together, and lips parting as she went to reply. “Jesus!” It was replaced with a choked moan, her head thrown back in pleasure while Matt’s tongue reconnected with her heat, dragging a long stripe up her core. He felt her pulse against his tastebuds, locking the sounds she made every time he’d nudge her clit.

The triplet’s mind was utterly corrupted by the girl. Y/n this, Y/n that, god Y/n tasted so good, I wonder what Y/n would feel like- his thought process was entirely fucked. Leading to the current, the tip of his nose grazing her clit as he buried his face into her throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” He moaned with a slight slur, both hands down gripping each sides of her thighs.

Y/n’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth ajar as she wondered what had gotten into her once tame and collected boyfriend. “Matt,” She’d whimper out every few seconds, the light melodic rhythm of her voice going completely deaf to the man’s ears, as he desperately lapped at her sopping heat.

It was only until he felt the girls thighs begin to clamp around his head that he was brought from his foggy mindset, hooded eyes dragging up to the breathless girl while removing his mouth from her pulsing core. “sweetheart,” he panted, running his ring clad hand down his jaw. “Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it,” He chuckled, making her roll her eyes with a small whimper.

“But I can’t really fuck you with my tongue, if you’re doing that.” She blew out a small sound of confusion, before spotting the pink area or skin behind his both ears, his diamond studs having pressed down against the skin whenever she’d clamp her thighs around his ears. “Can I?” He mumbled, lifting a brow.

She nodded pitifully, gripping his hair in her small hand ushering his face back to her drenched core. “Mhm.” Matt huffed out a sound of amusement, but like the gentleman he was, continued to guide the girl to her release. “Yess.” The hand in his hair gripped the tendrils harshly, pulling him closer into her as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of need.

He couldn’t help but glide his own hand downward, lightly palming over the obvious tent in his jeans. Matt neglected his aching cock for the extended period of time, ever since he saw her in that sexy little get up. Or when she’d accidentally brush her ass against his dick when she flailed backward into his body when frightened.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t felt the need to though. Not at all. In fact, he’d fought and resisted the temptation of slipping his hand into his jeans, fisting the aching hard on he sported just by the mere sight of Y/n. Or to grab the girl, nudge her into a random haunted room, and to slam his cock into her the second he tugged the denim shorts down her thighs.

Then there was her.

Matt was simply content with mind-fucking the girl, taunting and teasing her throughout the sinister night. Her every tantalizing move alluring him further, making his eyes gleam with a darkness that begged to be released with a quick fuck.

And because it was an escape, a distraction, she didn’t mind. “Gonna’ cum.” Y/n gasped out, feeling his lips pepper wet pecks all around her beating heat, groaning as he placed a final one directly over her dripping core.

The girls hips moved against his working lips as she felt the ball in her abdomen begin to unravel, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth opened in a silent moan. Matt’s eyes slid up to her as she came, lips quirking up as he watched her shatter in his hands.

Back arching as she pushed her dripping pussy closer to his lips as he lapped up her release, the familiar taste touching his tongue with an addictive undertone. He couldn’t get enough, fighting the urge of his eyes rolling back as his hands roamed every inch of her soft skin.

Y/n whimpered softly, watching the magnifying boy place two last kisses on the inside of either thigh’s. “sorry.” She whispered, making Matt’s eyebrows raise with surprise. “Sorry? Sorry for what, baby?” He laughed a bit, running the back of his hand across his damp lips.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, turning her head away. “I don’t even know- it’s just embarrassing.” Matt scoffed, dragging her underwear and shorts up her thighs while raising from his haunches.

“Nothing you could ever say or do, would be ‘embarrassing’.” He said firmly, pulling her shorts over her supple ass. “always’ my perfect girl.” He murmured, pressing his index and middle finger into her cheek, tilting her hed his way again.

The girl blushed, nipping at her bottom lip as she shifted foot to foot. “Do you want me to..” she trailed off, nodding toward the tent in his pants. Matt rolled his eyes, running the hand down her hair as he pulled her closer. “So bad it fuckin’ aches for you.” He grunted.

She immediately reached down to tug at the button, her hand being caught by a larger one. “hey,” Matt chuckled, making her flick her gaze up to his. “I thought-” She squealed, taken aback as his lips pressed onto hers.

The hand atop her soft hair drifted down to cup the side of her neck, Matthew’s thumb rubbing back and forth across her steadily beating pulse. “but,” He whispered. “I would much rather have this little mouth,” He muttered in between kisses. “on my cock after I’ve gotten you all warm. Bathed, fed, and in some comfortable clothes.” he chuckled, his other thumb running along the underside of her bottom lip.

There noses brushed each others even after they pulled away, Matt looking to be pondering as he looked off. “Hm..” She rose a brow, a grin spreading cross her raw lips. “Preferably something of mine.” He said, flicking his gaze back to hers.

Y/n’s eyebrows rose, tilting her head aside as he smiled up at her boyfriend. “Yours, huh?” She mused, her grin growing at his firm nod. “What about that white fresh love-” She yelped as a hand collided with the skin of her thigh, winching as he rubbed over the now pink skin.

“Always a brat.” He murmured, a smirk growing on his lips as he watched her thighs squeeze together at the action. Little masochist. “Maybe the bath and change of clothes can wait..” Her eyes lit up, opening her mouth to retort brattily.

Bang!

“Holy fuck!” Y/n cried, gripping onto her boyfriend’s arm as a ringing noise echoed through the void room. Matt went still, but managed to breathily laugh while patting the girls head. “Kid- you’re fine-” He attempted to assure, but flinched and cursed himself when he heard glass shatter. “Jesus.” He muttered, eyes wide as he snapped his head behind him.

The door flew open, the silhouette of four men standing in the door way. “I’m dead- I’m dying tonight-” she rambled, shaking her head rapidly as she gripped onto Matt’s muscular forearm. Matt laughed through the fright, faltering from his stance above her. “No you’re not, doll.” He chuckled.

“Ouch!”

Matt winced, pulling his forearm away from the girl. “You pinched me.” He sounded betrayed, cradling his tattooed arm to his chest as he looked down at his fearful girlfriend.

“It’s because I love you.” She whined, a small cry at the end of her sentence as she heard a door creak. “And I’m sorry I never got to go down-”

“Boo!”

The couple screamed, Y/n throwing herself into Matt’s arms. Sam and Colby stood side by side, the blonde grinning ear to ear as he held up the medium sized camera. He looked enthralled, whereas the two looked petrified. “How’d it go?!” Nick, who stood not behind joyed.

Y/n’s shoulders fell seeing the friend she knew and trusted, but ran a hand down her face as it fell back on the wall. “Oh my god.” Matt threw his brothers a glare, hands trembling ever so slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, guys.” Y/n laughed.

Sam and Colby brought the camera a little closer, the couple squinting from the light. “How was it? Hear anything ghostly.” Colby mused, laughing a bit.

Matt and Y/n looked at each other, eyes wide. “Uh..” The girl snapped her head in the direction of the friends, rushing to find some kind of excuse- or lie. “Glass!” She exclaimed, making the group of four all look toward each other in confusion.

Matt felt himself confused as well. “Ow!” Y/n sent him a warning glance, slapping his shoulder. “Oh fuck- yeah, that.” Matt looked back at Colby. “Glass.. broke?” He said, looking back at his girlfriend for reassurance. She nodded in alliance. “Yep. Loud.” Matt nodded along.

Suddenly the couples current position registered to each other, as well as their friends. “So..” Y/n mumbled, lips drawing into a line as she slid down the wall and out from her boyfriend’s body. “Yep, it was very spooky.” Patting his chest once, Matt looked down at his girlfriend with a toothy smile.

God she was cute.

Nick made an expression of realization, face scrunching up as he faux gagged. “Geez, guys.” He groaned, rolling his eyes as he saw the discarded headsets and blindfolds. “That was me.” Matt and Y/n looked at each other, before looking back at the eldest triplet.

“.. I tripped over a lantern, okay?!” He confessed, a blush spreading across his cheeks from both embarrassed and having been exposed to whatever rendezvous his brother and girlfriend were having. “And I heard screaming, that definitely wasn’t out of fear- longgg before I did that-” He attempted to deflect.

Chris immediately cut him off. “Nick-nick. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, nudging his side.

“Okay!” Sam interrupted, cheeks slightly red as he looked around at the group. “We’ve been filming for over two hours, which is more than enough. Anyone wanna’ catch dinner?” He put his hands together, grinning sheepishly.

Me and Matt stayed silent, Chris’s and Nick’s hands flying up simultaneously. “Me.” They both say, voice overlapping each others.

“Great!” Sam exclaimed, sending a quick smile our way.

As the group dispersed the room, Matt slowly let his head fall against Y/n’s chest, letting out a small whine. “Holy shit.” His voice came out muffled, lips mushed against her goosebump-ridden chest.

She patted his head a few times. “I know. I know.” Oh god, did she know.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 －

@tvdelrey @luverboychris

[prythianpages]

Wanna Be Yours | Part Two

Rhysand x Reader | Rhysand is absolutely smitten with you and you appear to be blind from it.

This is a part two to this. You can find the masterlist to keep track of future parts here.

warnings: none

a/n: I use a prompt from the lovely @thepromptswhisperer . you can find the post here. I bolded & italicized the dialogue I used from it.

The secrets that Rhysand holds in his heart are harder to hide than he thought. He can’t help it. His heartbeat is at its peak whenever you speak or simply look his way. The weight of his confession persists, akin to an inconsolable ache nestled in his chest, right above the delicate golden thread that intimately connects his soul to yours. 

Three months have passed since that night—the night when he found himself grappling with delirium, induced by the venom coursing through his veins. It was the result of a miscalculated move when patrolling the Night Court’s borders. His injuries, though not fatal, seemed insurmountable due to the poison's cruel deception that night. In a panic, he insisted on seeing you and only you. If he were to face oblivion, he wanted you to be the last person he saw.

The poison, however, proved powerless against your skill. You healed him and brought him back from the brink. "I think I might be in love with you," were the words he had uttered to you and though he was lucid, he meant them. Wholeheartedly.

And now, there's no uncertainty. He is in love with you. The Cauldron may have destined you two together but Rhysand is beyond doubt that he would love you, bond or no bond. You’re beautiful, sweet and kind. Everything he could ever dream of, and dream of you he has done. A lot. 

Rhysand wonders if you dream of him too. If you think about him as much as he thinks about you. He wished he had been there to see your reaction when opening his gift but you had been busy all day. It sparked a worry in him that you were being overworked. Then, his own duties got in the way, leaving him with no choice but to leave it at your door. You had greeted him the following morning when you went to check up on him. The smile you graced him with in appreciation for the gift was as golden and glorious as the sun itself. One he wants more of.

You have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know…

“Whiskey for your thoughts?”

Dragging himself away from the labyrinth of his thoughts, Rhysand brings himself back to the sitting room of his house. He accepts the glass of golden brown liquid from Cassian with gratitude, leaning back into the soft cushion of his chair. 

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s shadows seem to flicker with a knowing gleam. He doesn’t have to ask to know who Rhysand is referring to.  “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“A couple days too long,” Rhysand replies with a sigh, prompting a chuckle from Cassian. As he swirls the liquid in his glass, mirroring the stirring emotions within him, his usually composed facade begins to waver. “She’s my mate.”

“We know,” Cassian grins, though it’s the first time Rhysand has said it. A quick exchange of glances with Azriel makes Cassian shrink back sheepishly, putting on a surprised expression. “Sorry, I mean. What??”

Rhysand glances between Azriel and Cassian. “You know?”

Cassian and Azriel exchange another guilty glance before Azriel turns to Rhysand. “We suspected,” he replies.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know. We also heard your confession–ow!” Cassian's words were cut short as he shot Azriel a glare, rubbing his arm.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink, the corners of his lips lifting into a wry smile. "How is it that you two heard, but she didn’t?" he asks, his tone taking on a solemn note.

“I invited her to dinner and you know what she did?” Rhysand doesn’t wait for his brothers to reply to continue. “She brought Madja and another healer with her. Thought it was a group dinner. I bought her flowers and she handed them out to her patients. Thought I had given them to the infirmary, not her. I asked her to join me for a coffee but she said she was busy and I do believe her–there’s been a nasty flu going around. By the Cauldron, is she even taking care of herself? Maybe, I should pretend to be sick just to get her to see me…”

Rhysand downs the remainder of his drink, the burn in his throat paling in comparison to the burning he feels for you. Turning to Azriel, his eyes sparkle with determination.

“Hit me.”

Azriel chokes on his drink and Cassian grimaces as droplets land on his arm. “What?”

“C’mon. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it, especially after I sent you to parole the Illyrian camps last week,” Rhysand says with a smirk. He then angles his head, giving Azriel perfect access. He taps his jaw. “Hit me. Hard. So that I don’t heal as quickly.”

“Why aren’t you asking me?” Cassian asks, tone on the brink of offense. “I can give you a nasty black eye!”

Rhysand is about to reply when a shiver runs through the air. The room then falls into silence. Rhysand feels something teasing at the edges of his senses. His eyes, aglow with the ethereal light of night, narrow. There’s an unsettling disturbance within the rhythmic pulse of his court. An intruder.

Azriel’s shadows pick up on the stirrings of Rhysand’s instincts. He’s rising from his seat, ready to take on the uninvited presence. However, Rhysand, swifter than a fleeting shadow, vanishes into the embrace of the dark night before Azriel can.

**

There’s a knock on your door and you pull your gaze away from the gold trinket box Rhysand gifted you. Carefully placing it back onto your nightstand, you make your way toward the door. Madja, your mentor, is on the other side. She holds a faelight in the palm of her hand that highlights the gentle contours of her face. The small smile on her lips speaks volumes and you don’t have to ask why she’s coming for you in the late hour. Still, you can’t help but voice your curiosity as she guides you to the foyer of the infirmary.

“What is it this time?” 

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You smile in greeting to the Shadowsinger who is waiting for you. He nods his head at you and without a word, offers his arm. Madja calls out words of encouragement to you. 

Azriel’s shadows wrap around you both and winnow you to Rhysand’s private residence. A beautiful and vast estate nestled in the heart of Velaris. He guides you to Rhysand’s room, though you know your way around well. As your hand reaches for his bedroom’s door, Azriel’s voice stops you.

“I must warn you…he’s in a mood.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say, echoing Madja’s words from earlier. It’s more to reassure yourself than him. Azriel only smiles at you in response.

Rhysand’s room is spacious–a sanctuary of regal splendor. Its walls are bathed in a deep shade reminiscent of midnight and adorned with tapestries of celestial landscapes. Everything about the room reflects the refined taste and mystical elegance of its inhabitant and what a mystery he is to you. The High Lord of the Night Court is the most powerful in Prythian history. To many, he is careless and as cold as the winds from the Illyrian mountains. 

Only those dear to him know the truth of his nature. You still can’t wrap your head around as to why he chose to let you see the man behind the mask. Perhaps, it’s all attributed to your power but with Madja living here, you don’t quite understand the need for two healers in Velaris.

“Daybreak.”

Rhysand looks like a dream. 

He stands under the gracefully arched openings of his balcony.  Wispy curtains sway with the gentle night breeze, carrying with them the intoxicating fragrance of citrus and sea that caresses your senses. As moonlight spills into the room, it bathes him in a stellar glow, causing his membranous wings to dance in magnificent midnight hues. You can’t help but wonder which is more beautiful–the breathtaking view of the Court of Dreams from his balcony or him.

A stifled sound from Rhysand pulls you out of your trance, blinking away a gentle intrusion you felt in your mind.

“I have a name, you know,” you remind him.

“I know.” Though his back is to you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

He turns to face you and you pick up on the telltale signs of subtle surrender in the slump of his shoulders. His wings vanish and your eyes trace down to his chest, where he cradles a feebly wrapped arm. A subdued darkness stains the light bandage. As your eyes lift back up to his face, his lips press together into a fine line.

“Come,” you say as you motion for him to sit. With a casual flick of your wrist, your first aid kit materializes from the pocket realm, settling gracefully onto his desk.  “May I?”

Rhysand promptly slips his shirt off before extending his injured arm to you with a nod. You arch a brow. “You didn’t have to take off your shirt.”

“It’s warm here,” he protests, though a mischievous glint dances in those violet eyes of his. He leans back into his desk chair, manspreading those glorious sweat clad thighs of his. “Feel free to admire me, darling,” he smirks at you and you force yourself to look away only to catch his biceps tensing with purpose.

“You’re blushing.” He muses, his eyes tracing every nuance of your reaction. 

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You retort, feigning nonchalance. Internally, you’re cursing the way your blush deepens and the way your stomach flutters at the sound of his laughter. It’s deep and alluring, wrapping around you like a sweet melody. You’d think after months of knowing him, you’d be immune to his shameless flirting.

Focus, you remind yourself as you do your best to ignore the playful smirk that continues to grace his luscious lips. So much for Azriel’s claim of Rhysand being in a mood. Whatever had soured his temper must’ve gone away, you think. Despite his injury, he looks perfectly fine to you. 

You gently grasp his forearm and begin to unwrap the bandage carefully. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the warm, earthy undertones of his skin. Up close, the flush of his cheeks become more pronounced and the thin sheet of sweat glistens on his tattooed chest. Your keen eyes immediately pick up on the black ink trickling from the small wounds on his arm. Recognition dawns in your eyes.

“These are puncture wounds from a Puca.”

“Very astute of you, darling.” 

A furrow appears on your brow as curiosity mingles with bewilderment. You can't fathom how a Puca, a dangerous creature that roams throughout Prythian, managed to get this close to someone as powerful and even more dangerous as Rhysand. 

“What did it appear to you as?”

Rhysand's demeanor undergoes a shift. A-ha, there is that sour mood you had been expecting. Something akin to embarrassment flickers in the depths of his violet eyes. He instinctively pulls his arm back, but you tighten your hold, silently demanding an explanation.

"They say that a Puca uses your own desires to lure you and then eat you," you remark, your tone a mix of caution and concern.

Rhysand, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, hums thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

You drop your gaze as your hands fall into the familiar rhythm of tending to his injuries. “Azriel said you were in a mood so whatever it appeared to you as, must’ve been something for it to get you this go—“

“You.”

Confusion clouds your expression, and your glowing hands still. "What?"

You can feel the warmth of his gaze, a sharp intensity that lingers on you. "It appeared as you."

A moment of silence stretches between you two. The corner of Rhysand’s lips quirk up, the silver fleck of his violet irises sparkling with a mix of amusement and something more elusive. His gaze holds yours and there’s the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath his charismatic exterior. One you don’t catch.

"You flatter me," you finally say with a soft laugh, not believing him for one bit. 

And all Rhysand can do is look at you in bewildered wonder as your hands continue to move with deliberate care. He needs to try harder.

**

Days later…

Come back home.

Those three words stare back at you. Haunting and persistent. "Home," you quietly muse to yourself.  Dawn is your home. Or so you once believed. 

A home is meant to be a sanctuary. A place of safety. A place of comfort. Over time, it transformed from your sweet haven into a source of distress. But if Dawn is no longer your home, then what is? 

Is it the Night Court? You don't feel suffocated with high expectations here. The nights may be dark, but the stars shine their brightest here. They watch over you, listening to your silent whispers. There is a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows, almost like a sense of belonging.

You crumple the letter, the tangible weight of memories folding with it. Time is healing, you remind yourself. With a heavy sigh, you turn back to the stack of books and paperwork on your desk. Yesterday had been a slow day in the clinic so Madja asked for you to accompany her while she bought supplies. She treated you to a nice dinner afterwards. It was a much needed break but now, you found yourself behind in your studies and patient’s charts.

With a glance toward your desk candle, you use your powers to light it up. Leaning forward slightly, you fix your gaze on your first report with a strong determination to finish the stack by the end of your shift. No distra–

A knock echoes through the slightly ajar door.

Your office door is deliberately left open, a practice maintained for moments just like this - in case a patient requires urgent attention. While there’s a room in the clinic set up with rows of cots and medical equipment, your office provides an additional space for those seeking a more private examination.

"Hello, daybreak.”

Rhysand strides in, his easy confidence filling the small space of your office. You glance up only momentarily before returning your attention to the task at hand, responding with a dry humor that matches his tone.

"Hello, High Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Rhysand tilts his head, his gaze lingering on you. Moving with quiet elegance, he walks past the examination table and approaches your desk instead. His attention is immediately drawn to a book resting on top of one of the many stacks. A poetry book, he recognizes, adorned with a delicate cobalt blue ribbon. 

“What’s this?”

“A gift from Azriel,” you reply casually and miss the way his face twists at the nonchalance of your tone.

 Rhysand blinks at you. “A what?”

“A book. That Azriel got. For me.” You repeat, deliberately slower this time. 

Rhysand heard you perfectly well the first time. His eyebrows knit together as he gazes at the book, a storm brewing in his expressive eyes. If looks could scorch, the innocent book would be reduced to a pile of ashes. Your birthday is months away and Solstice was weeks ago. 

“I’m hurt.”

You look up, keen eyes glancing over his form again. “You don’t look hurt.”

Undeterred, he saunters closer, swiping a deliberate finger across the papers on your desk. "Come on, surely you can spare a moment for a poor High Lord in deep pain."

You inspect his outstretched hand, where a barely visible mark is displayed on his pointer finger. "It's a papercut," you deadpan. 

“It hurts.”

"It's already healed."

Rhysand dramatically lets out a deep sigh and you suppress the urge to smile. The sound of a bell ringing–a sign that someone is in need of help–has you rising from your seat. You walk toward Rhysand, who continues to brood. Holding his gaze, you bring his hand to your mouth and press a light kiss right over where the papercut had been.

“There.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Feel better now?”

Every nerve in his body tingles with excitement, and there's a giddy flutter in his stomach. “Much better,” Rhysand breathes with a grin, savoring your touch.

He doesn’t allow your hand to drop, brushing it over his cheek instead and holding it there with his own. If you can’t see the flush to his cheeks, then surely you must be able to feel its warmth.

“How can I ever repay you?”

“You’re already paying me,” you remind him with a soft exhale, a laugh almost. The sound is music to Rhysand's ears and all his heart wants to do is dance to its rhythm. He realizes he can’t let this moment slip. Not when he finally has your full attention and a golden opportunity to seek more of it.

“You can come with me to the Midnight Eclipse ball.”

“Midnight Eclipse ball,” you repeat, your voice laced with intrigue, and Rhysand can't help but admire the way your eyes gleam with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Come with me and find out,” Rhysand replies, his eyes sparkling at you. He leans in closer, captivated by the softness of your gaze, and with a smile, he boldly adds, “As my date.”

“Your date?” you ask, your breath catching slightly. 

Rhysand only hums in reply, taking pleasure in the way his cheek presses further against your hand as he does so. The look he gives you is almost pleading as he gazes down at you. 

“Okay,” you finally say after a moment of silence with a small smile of your own. “I’ll join you. When is it?”

Rhysand beams down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and anticipation. Shifting his face in your hold, he presses a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand and now it is you who is overcome with a giddy flutter in your stomach. Rhysand, normally attuned to your every shift in expression, is too caught up in surprise to take note of it.

“Next Saturday,” he replies, holding your gaze.

The bell rings again, the sound prompting Rhysand to reluctantly let go of your hand. You give him an apologetic smile as you turn toward your desk, grabbing a couple of supplies. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

You excuse yourself, walking around him to exit your office. Rhysand follows but chooses to lean against your doorframe, watching as you rush toward the infirmary.

“Don’t forget, it’s a date!” Rhysand calls after you, putting emphasis on the word ‘date.’

“Yes, I got it!” You reply, giving him a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner.

Rhysand smiles to himself. Though Saturday is almost five days away, he doesn’t mind the wait. Not when you just agreed to be his date. He looks down at the hand you kissed, closing it into a fist, overwhelmed with the giddy excitement building up inside him. You’re so utterly endearing. He brings his fist close to his mouth, suppressing the urge to bite it as he swoons over the thought of having you as his date for the Midnight Eclipse ball.

Reality begins to set in and his smile widens into a grin. Now, he has to plan the ball he literally just made up…

a/n: tbh, I don't know how I feel about this part. I feel like I set up expectations too high for myself because I really loved how the first part turned out and this part is kinda meh to me. anyway, I hope you still enjoyed this. I'm looking forward to writing the other part(s) as those include scenes I've had in my head for weeeeeeks lol. (You'll finally learn the little secret or two reader is hiding in the next part...any guesses? )I estimate only like 1-2 parts left, depending on how long the next part is.

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030, @nebarious, @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

[krewekreep]

Baby Daddy Red Flags: Bleach Edition (😜🤍)

This one…this one for the sluts! 😭💕 I’m an old anime bitch like lemme get it out my system! (We gonna tag this #ToxicTalk lmaoo, this is a safe space)

(If you wanna know who we share 😒, I’ll add an asterisk or whatever. ((They still mine first 😂💝🫡)) (will update and repost with new additions, semi-live post)

***ICHIGO: Lemme get my baby daddy out the way. Biggest issues would be his availability before and after the kid. Probably got pregnant in a makeup sex situation anyway. Ichigo doesn’t seem to type to breakup but will say let’s break. Based on how selfless he is it also can be seen coming from him not being able to save his mom—so he may have a savior complex. It may seem valiant at first like “oh wow you became friends with Chad helping him with bullies? You became closer to Orihime (😒) after helping her grieve her brother? You’re such a good person!” Til you realize seniority is in place and when his friends call he drops whatever he is doing to go help. It’s been time, money, etc and increasingly his selflessness comes off as codependent. Like he can’t stop trying to make up for something that wasn’t his fault.

He will also randomly reserve to right to become reclusive. Not necessarily secretive but less energetic, talkative, or engaged. (You def realize your baby got some functional depression going on. Iykyk). Might not annoy you but the random times he doesn’t want to be touched or seemingly avoids you does hurt…but he sincerely comes back letting you know he was in a weird space etc.

Ichigo’s biggest yes or no is if you’ll be able to sometimes come second or third (likely til you marry and/or have kids with him.) His father and sisters are absolutely #1, his friends are #2, and his oath to the Soul Society and humanity at large is a consequence of him protecting the first two so that’s of course #3. See where I’m going? Even on your best days you might be upset he runs off to Rukia’s or Orihime’s aid. That he has to “save the world,”to save you too. Jealous types might really become frustrated with Ichigo. And tbh I don’t see him breaking out of his ways. He won’t see a need to because there’s real results of his good deeds in his life. He knows he’s saved lives, so he knows he can continue to—so will you be able to handle the fact his duty and mindset will be self sacrificing? I don’t know I think I’d tie him down with a baby and move on.

**KENPACHI: I fully accept and am attracted to his animalistic tendencies. I absolutely can admit that about myself 😭 but…realistically you’d def have to tell him he’s too rough during sessions. He’s grown up wayward, defensive, survival mode, stomach touching his back— during a time so seemingly historical and old who knows how bad the conditions of poverty were—most kids died if they simply weren’t rich and able to eat. Or turned to crime at extremely young ages or exploited….That’s just global history in real life. And the soul society is that much more complex and arduous. Kenpachi will be a man of few words but immense action. If you want someone who will open up even eventually that is not Kenpachi Zaraki. You will highly likely never know of his past because he will never say he is excruciatingly doing everything to never have to. And no, he won’t communicate ever if anything terrible is on his mind. Although kenpachi is coded as barbaric he really is just that protective—he’s as angry as he will be based solely upon someone’s proximity to him emotionally. You and Yaru will be so exclusively held in a regard he won’t even understand. Just the black hole of his awareness he’ll surpass anything to save y’all. He won’t speak on why Lady Unohana isn’t around anymore (new anime, manga lore). But again, when he ends up rough too many nights in a row you distance yourself from him. He can’t admit to you he disassociates and goes back to bad times. He can’t tell you your comfort and warmth makes him remember the times he needed it before—he doesn’t mean to hurt you but he lives for a fight. But he wants to stop making everything and everyone something to “conquer.” He’ll be a real deal handful and it will solely up to you to either tell him you can’t be with him until he figure shit out or you’ll stick beside him and work through it together. (In this case Yaru is the “kid” yall share, I see him being weary of birthing a child and being a dad in such a “visceral” way. Will have total abandonment trauma and just can’t see him getting over it completely to bring new life into a world he already sees the worst in tbh.) but in terms of “baby momma” treatment? Or your prioritized and protected best believe. 💕 he also will force you to learn combat cause you should be able to take care yourself too. Which might either be hot or burdensome. You’re gonna know how to fight. And tbh he might try to bring it into the bedroom on some weird let’s play fight shit so watch yourself. That’s a BIG MAN! 😭😂💕 “HA! Now that you know how do a few things why don’t you test it on me?” Big cheeky sneaky ass grin girl don’t fall for it!

BYAKUYA: This is the guy who will match your freak everywhere but in public. No PDA—actually don’t even look at him or try to talk to him in public…be professional. He will be joking with others and you’ll get upset saying “Hey! You let the other members of the society tease you?” And in private he’ll admit it’s just to keep up appearances and he hates it all. 😭 I think his biggest issue will be coming off fake or disingenuous or you’ll have a hard time sincerely seeing him cause he’ll be so different depending on where y’all are. People wouldn’t know he’s like a mom boyfriend who makes sure you eat, sleep, and keep up with yourself. Yes, he will absolutely unintentionally say something insulting like “This doesn’t suit you. Find something else.” And yes he will be very clearly on guard when in public. People will openly wonder why you’re with him tbh. Which will frustrate the both of you of which neither of you ever bring up to the other. Byakuya has lost a love before—he won’t talk about it ever. You MIGHT get something out of Rukia about it cause it was her sister but I doubt she’ll go super intimate about THEIR relationship cause she respects both his and her sister’s privacy. So you might be stuck on an eavesdropping side quest with Renji that amounts to nothing cause he’ll sense yall. He’ll be amused and somewhat touched you wanted to watch him work though. He’s usually the one keeping check or track of things so he’ll never say he likes that you peep on him and mind his business. You care about him and he knows he’s a bit unfair not allowing any PDA. But he so openly loved on Rukia’s sister he couldn’t help the shameful self imposed embarrassment once he had to walk the halls alone…Byakuya will be a very intentional, quiet lover. I doubt he’ll moan very much tbh unless he’s exhausted and allowing you to take care of him. Sometimes he’ll absolutely disappear all day into work. Other times he’ll be sure to direct his underlings to wait on you in his stead. He’s more manageable if you can accept his sometimes snarky, distant, super private ways. As a father he’ll be annoyingly big on exceptionalism and them being smart and talented. You’ll have to be sure he isn’t burdening your kid when you aren’t around. And you’ll have to be sure he doesn’t inadvertently impart his insensitive habits too. Likewise, you’ll ABSOLUTELY have to “deal or no deal” him about giving affection to your kid in public. You will absolutely have to go off and tell him it’s y’all or his image. And yeah now he’s holding both yall hands albeit defeated. 💕😭

AIZEN: Shit…girl (im black my “girl…” is gender neutral don’t be annoying 💕) you already know what it is. Yandare, selfish, self righteous, MEAN, EVIL…but fine and rich as fuck. 😔🫤 it will be a doozy to be with this one. You literally have to know and accept what you getting into bestie. I can’t even warn you, you know! 😭 but seriously if your an aizen bias you accept him as is 😭 psycho ass. So I wanna just write how’d he be as a baby daddy. Now not to get…too mature…but if you happened to be someone captured/kidnapped by him and pregnant…baby you is a victim! BUT ITS FANFIC SOOO if you were the captured baby momma that’s in his realm with him…well girl you in the realm lord you stuck. “Can I go to the human world?” “For what?” “Uh, sun?” “Humph what do you need sun for…” He’ll look down at your crying child and be like “Ugh okay whatever but Grimmjow is your chaperone.” And you won’t care cause Grimmjow lets you run off and live life. Which Aizen knows but the minute you aren’t overtly scared and submissive to him he’ll lose his weird sense of “power.” You’re man crazy bestie. He’s definitely someone you won’t talk back to until you’re a parent and equally going to advocate for your kid. He’ll realize and laugh to himself “Their not really submissive at all…little minx…” and hold you in completely new regard. “So you took me as is because you wanted to?” He’ll start thinking shit that confuses him and decide to randomly kill a grunt to distract himself like no he’s not gonna reflect into a better person. 😂 you’ll have everything you want cause you can’t go nowhere 😭. Mind you yes the sex is mind blowing so you sadly do take what positives are there…his eyes don’t fall sexually to anyone but you. His body doesn’t respond certain ways to anyone but you. And as you stand next to him more and more he’s leaning into you and your baby’s energy rather than tryna to overtake yall with his. Just don’t speak about the change and it’ll be fine. The minute you tease or openly acknowledge his becoming softer and less controlling you’ll ruin all the progress you made. Let him feel like he’s in control or whatever.

New Additions (1):

Hitsugaya: (adult of course) Hitsu will be a blend of Byakuya and Ichigo. The best aspects of him will be how attentive and actionable he is about his love for you. But — he will shy away from PDA and sometimes have moments of separated solitude. Unlike Byakuya, he will absolutely open up to PDA, just will never be the initiator of it. Maybe grab your hand at the end of the day to hurry back home or stare at you as long as he can while he observes your dutiful working. He’ll be shy always which keeps your love feeling young and refreshed. You’ll always be able to make him blush and unlike Ichigo, he’ll warm up to you imposing yourself on his alone time. He’ll be big on love making and planning when to have a child so it will be less spontaneous. He’ll have the baby registry and wishlists prepared, printed, and passed out to members of the Soul Society. He’ll enjoy trips to the human world to acquire new toys and trinkets for your baby.

As a baby daddy he’s almost too protective. You wonder what he’s been through as he’ll have a firm grip of your hips as you cradle your child. He’ll have a habit of looking at your baby and then between the both of you stunned at how he can see the perfect blend of your features on your child’s face. He’ll be very close to a simp honestly (which I’m a fan of) and be at your beck & call no matter the hour. Definitely the dad to tell you don’t worry about tending to the little one, keep resting cause he knows how tired you get. He’s honestly the perfect idea of a new father as he’ll be bumbling a bit but with so much to prove. I realize I kinda didn’t write red flags cause I truly see Hitsu adjusting to parenthood and a long term relationship the best. Only thing I can think is that he’ll be overtly willing to sacrifice himself for your family’s safety. So any massive issue in the Soul Society will make your heart sink a little because while he’s capable he’s been in enough life threatening predicaments to cause ample, appropriate worry. He’ll be hard to break out of working I think until your child starts schooling which could be frustrating cause he’ll overcompensate parenting in lieu of his work commitments. Overall, I think he’d be the baby daddy with the least to really worry about.

Renji: Oh lord— all tea, all shade this man will STRUGGLE. « What do you mean the baby is hungry AGAIN ? You just breastfed! WAIT DO NOT PULL YOUR TIT OUT IN PUBLIC WOMAN ! » He’ll have a hard time adjusting to your freedom as a breastfeeding mom for sure (if you choose to). Work ? What’s work? One thing you can count on is that he will absolutely commit to being a family man and even a stay at home dad. He’ll take all his PTO or even « quit » (basically will say don’t call me to help unless the Soul Society is about to die.) He will wait on you hand & foot because he can’t imagine how much your body and mind has gone through and the strength it takes to be so tired but smile and laugh with him and your kiddo. But, he may end up a bit controlling about you leaving the house without him. He’ll either become a sad puppy or an angry old man. « Baby…what do you mean you want me to stay home ? 😓🥺 » or «  Woman, what did I tell you about going out without me ? What if a crazy person tried to rob you ? » You laugh at him always being some level of dramatic but it may get annoying how clingy and worried he’ll become. You’ll have to remind him you lived this long for a reason…and plan to live longer, so he can chill out sometimes cause his worried nature worries you…you might benefit from guilt tripping him into apologizing and giving you a breather on leaving the house. But just know someone is watching over you. Renji would be a great cook or a terrible cook who improves over time. He might be great at catching the baby right when they poop or…end up shat on rushing to a sink. I really see him either being weirdly good at being a dad or definitely suffering from the learning curve.

Your baby will definitely be conceived in a wild love making, (maybe rough, passionate sex) session. And you’ll catch him blushing when he holds your baby and looks at you remembering the night you had. You’ll be the type to walk in on them sleeping crazily on the sofa, his arm instinctively holding your baby firm. He’ll be grateful to not have to jump up to go to work honestly. His biggest red flags will be being overbearing, needy, and likely requiring a lot of overt reassurance. (Which isn’t necessarily a red flag given he just will want to be a really good dad and partner.) Otherwise he’ll become a stubborn dad who will try (and fail) to « put his foot down. » Which will likely result in him sleeping on the sofa…💕

[thetravelingmaster]

Short Story: Choosing Enthralment

Male's point of view - Hypnosis - Brainwashing - Conditioning

“That’s it… Just sink deeper and deeper into trance… Deeper and deeper into blissful surrender … Deeper and deeper into thoughtless obedience…”

I’m not completely convinced, even though I explained it to her multiple times, that she fully understood what she was agreeing to when we negotiated the terms and limits of her hypnotic submission to me. There was no intent to trick her on my part because I was very clear about what I wished to achieve with her if she wished to dive into my control.

“Deeper and deeper… Reaching a place with no will of your own… No thoughts of your own… Sinking into blissful nothingness… Open and obedient… Letting go of everything inside your mind except the will of your Master.”

Saying she understood everything we talked about, she agreed to let me use hypnosis to conquer her mind and bend her to my will. She agreed that I could use any means available to make me her Master in her eyes. She was so eager… Excited and aroused by the idea of being brainwashed like one of those cartoon characters that ignited her kink when she saw them helplessly mind controlled as a teen.

“Feel my words reach into your mind… Expertly soothing you as they take hold of the mental collar that completely controls you… Completely commands you… That makes your mind… And your body… My property…”

Did she think hypnosis would be 100% effective with such an eager mind as hers? Did she believe that deep down, she wouldn’t truly be claimed and would simply play along to experience her kink? She was adamant that she knew it was real and that if I was good enough, she would truly be brainwashed.

I guess I still can’t quite believe that a young perky girl like her would so eagerly give up her freedom to become brainwashed and enslaved.

“Sinking deeper still… Sinking into the depths of your true self… Sinking to a place where my words can reshape your mind… Your thoughts… Your beliefs… You understand and embrace that deep down… At the core of your being… You are no longer a real person… You are the organic object I own and completely control… You exist to serve and obey…”

I took things slow of course…

Allowing her many opportunities to speak up and change her mind… Test her limits….

But with every session, she grew more and more excited by the results and the pleasure it gave her to let go and surrender to my will. So with every session, I accepted her submission by sinking my control ever deeper within her mind until one day, she realized that she no longer saw herself as an independent person, but as my helpless thrall.

It was so fascinating to watch her get so intensely aroused by the notion that when it came to my dominance and use of her, she no longer felt like she had a choice.

And by then, with the exception of her safe word, she really didn’t have a choice…

“Everything you are is mine to command and enjoy… Your mind is utterly open to my will… Easily changed and programmed for your Masters’s pleasure… Your body is a helpless tool that exists entirely to serve and please your Master…”

Up until a few weeks ago, she had been my thrall only when we met up or did online calls, but then she surprised me by asking, out of the blue, if I would consider letting her move in with me so she could be mine full time. I initially refused and told her to take the time to truly understand what she was asking. Which she supposedly did…

Her request didn’t waver one bit so I agreed to let her live with me for one week so she could really experience what it would mean to live with me. To be sure she understood, I was a lot harsher than usual with her and constantly tranced her or ordered her to do the most menial things that were clearly not erotic. I truly treated her like an object and to my surprise, the more I did the hornier she got.

“You are my hypnotic thrall… My obedient slave… You have no choice but to obey your Master… You cannot resist the words of your Owner… You are an object of pleasure… A warm enthralled sleeve for your Master’s cock… You exist to serve his pleasure whenever and however he wishes…”

I’d be lying if I said that our whole situation didn’t make me as excited and eager as her. Especially after that ‘trial week’ where I got to enjoy my very own live-in hypno-thrall and sex slave. It was clear we both wanted this so I felt bad for sticking to the high road by constantly telling her that she needed to take it slow and think about it.

As much as I insisted though, she insisted even more that she was eager to fully give herself to me and decided to prove it to me by offering me a special week living with her. Like the week before, she would live with me but unlike the previous week, I couldn’t hypnotize her or use any triggers on her. She wanted to prove to me that she was just as willing to serve me even if there was no hypnotic compulsion to force her to do so.

I obviously agreed and was just as commanding and harsh with her as I was the week before. I treated her like the slave she wanted to be and enjoyed her as much as I could without once feeling her resist or hearing her complain.

After such a wonderful show of devotion, I couldn’t keep denying her so I finally agreed to let her move in with me full time.

“Good… Very good… Now my dear… When I say the words ‘Awaken to your purpose’… Your mind will shift from deep trance to a state of waking trance… Your awareness will awaken, but you will not have the ability to think… You will stay perfectly mindless… Perfectly docile and kneel before me… You will have no other thought except your desire to serve my pleasure…”

Admittedly, her hypnotic subjugation reached new heights after that and if it wasn’t for the safe word I buried deep in her psyche, I’m pretty sure there’s no longer any tangible way for her to escape my control. I’ve given her exactly what she wished for and now, she truly believes, with all her aroused little heart, that she is nothing more than my property.

She’s allowed me to own every single inch of her and in so doing, gave me free rein on how I use her for my pleasure and service. Thanks to her daily files, she’s constantly compelled to perform her daily chores, keeping herself healthy and alluring. She has edged herself until her body could keep itself constantly aroused so that I may enjoy her pussy at a moment’s notice. She’s trained her mouth and throat every day so that she can properly suck my cock and fully deep-throat my modest girth.

Her whole life has become a carefully constructed series of trances and compelled tasks that effectively prevents her mind from thinking about anything except the moment she is in. No confusing or worrisome memories of the past to cause her stress… No anxious thoughts about what the future may or may not hold…

And since every moment of her life is filled with constant arousal and pleasure, her mind has zero desire to do anything except dive deeper into her present life of mind controlled service.

I still make a point to check in with her after she’s spent a few days free of trances or compulsion, but by now her new life has been so thoroughly conditioned into her mind by now that even awake and free from suggestions, she doesn’t want to be anything else. She’s as happy as a girl like her could possibly be and no one is able to convince otherwise.

I’m still convinced she didn’t quite understand what she was asking me to do to her, but since I gave her every opportunity and warning so she could keep her freedom, I’ve decided that I’m going to keep enjoying her until the day her safe word triggers. I’ll trust in her deep self to know when she’s had her fill of mindless servitude even though part of me thinks she never will and I’ll be able to keep this wonderful girl in a constant state of enthrallment and sexual servitude.

Or is that my own selfish hope?

[marikuchanxo]

Mistakes Are Better Fixed

Characters: Husband!Nanami Kento x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k~

CW: Angst, fluff, hurt reader, pet names.

Author's note: Hello! This is my first ever writing :). Please feel free to leave your opinion/recommendation after you read. Special thanks to @pseudowho who helped me writing it.

Fighting. A word that isn’t found in your relationship dictionary with your husband Nanami Kento. Most of the time you and him would have meaningful and calm conversations. Of course, like any couple, you would have some arguments here and there; due to different opinions or making important decisions. But this time, it isn’t like any before. 

It is Sunday afternoon, and you find yourself in an extremely heated fight with Nanami. Heck, you don’t even remember what got you both into this situation. Your heart is exhausted from all the arguing. “JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!!” 

Nanami shouts at you with such a furious face that you have never seen on him before. You, on the other hand, petrified, and trapped between him and the wall facing your back. Your eyes swell up with tears facing the floor; you just can’t keep looking at him with such frightening features. Nanami immediately snaps out of his stance, seeing tears running down your flushed face. Those tears are the result of his own actions. Since day one of your marriage, he vowed and promised you that he would never do something that won’t be in your favour. And now he broke that promise.

“Sweetheart, I…” You don’t let him continue with his words as you take your crying self away from him to the bathroom. He follows you down the hallway, so you rush and lock yourself inside.

“Love, please open the door. Let me talk to you.” 

Nanami knocks on the door softly so as not to startle you anymore. On the other side of the door, you slide your back against it and cry your heart out. Sobs and whimpers are all he can hear from you, and his heart aches for each one of them. 

“I will be waiting for you outside.” He gently whispers to you from behind the door. Nanami slips himself to the ground, his face in his palms; ashamed of what he’s done.

After an hour or so, you get calmer and collected. Shivering from the cold floor beneath you, you pick up yourself to take a quick shower and get out of the bathroom. You have decided to leave afterwards to pick a quick bite and then spend the rest of the day at Shoko’s. Your tummy is rumbling with hunger already as you didn’t get the chance to make breakfast; you started your day with that heated fight. Great. At the same time, as Nanami hears the shower turning on, he sighs gladly that you are fine. He gets up, looking forward to making it up with you. When you are done and open up the door, you find your husband standing before you. Anticipation is all over his face, replacing the horror you witnessed before. He reaches out for your hand, speaking politely.

“Please, let me fix this..”

“Nanami, I need my space for the time being. I am going to Shoko. I don’t know when I will be back.”

You leave his hand hanging in the air, looking away as you are speaking. You head to your shared bedroom to change your clothes and head outside. Nanami realises that you are still mad at him, which you have every right to be, when you called him by his last name. In better circumstances, you call him Kento or Ken. His beloved wife is the only person he allows to call him by his first name, as an element of intimacy between the both of you. He surrenders to your decision to give you some needed space. 

As you change into comfy sweatpants and jumper, you text Shoko that you’re coming to her house. She welcomes you right away. It isn’t your first time to stay over; both of you consider your homes as each other's way before meeting Nanami. You comb and braid your long hair before heading out of the bedroom. You notice Nanami sitting on the couch, hands in his lap. He gets on his feet and his eyes shift to you when he senses your presence.

“I am leaving.” As you reach the door to leave, Nanami calls for you to stay but you don’t answer him.

The moment you get inside your car, texts start flooding your phone. You know it is your husband because you set this special ringtone for him.

Kento 💙: Sweetheart, please come back. I was out of my mind when I shouted at you, I shouldn’t have done that.

Kento 💙: I deeply apologise for my awful action.

Kento 💙: Please text me when you arrive at Shoko’s.

Kento 💙: Home isn’t the same without you here.

You check these messages from the notifications bar before you start driving. You are still not ready to talk to him. 

When you arrive at Shoko’s house and sees you, she senses your gloomy vibes. Asking if something is wrong, you immediately start crying. She brings you into her soothing hug, giving you all the time you need to calm down. When you start mentioning what happened, she is shocked that Nanami is the one who hurt you. Shoko knows how special you are to him that he wouldn’t ever be on the list of people who could do you harm. She tries to calm you as much as she can when her phone rings.

“It is Nanami.” Before she responds to his call, you try to muffle your sobs.

“Hey, Nanami. Yes, she is here. She is alright, don't worry. Umm, give me a second.” She mutes the call and tells you that he wants to talk to you. Shaking your head, you reject his request.

“I am sorry, Nanami, she doesn’t want to talk right now. Sure, no problem. Okay, bye.”

After that call, you go to the bathroom to freshen up while Shoko makes some hot tea. As you settle down and check your phone, you notice more texts from Nanami.

Kento 💙: Did you arrive at Shoko’s? Please let me know.

Kento 💙: Are you okay? Did you grab something to eat on the way? I know you skipped breakfast because of me.

Kento 💙: Darling, I miss you. Alot.

Again, you ignore his texts. You wish you could reply to him, but your heart is still grieving. 

When Shoko comes back with the tea, you feel a bit soothed. As a life-long friend, she knows that tea is always the solution for any problem you have. Taking your first sip, you tell her of what had happened in more detail, you apologise for barging in suddenly, and ask her if you can spend the night here. Shoko happily welcomes you again. Giving her a small grin, you thank her, feeling blessed for having such a great friend in your life. 

The night comes in, you just had dinner with Shoko. The TV is switched on some random channel, spending some quiet time with her. You haven't heard from your husband since the last texts he sent you. You find worry starts seeping to your heart, but your mind refuses to contact him. Suddenly, the doorbell rings. You look at Shoko as if asking are you waiting for someone? She shrugs No and goes to check the door anyway. As she opens it, Shoko finds Kento in front of her. He is not in his best looks as sadness appears to take a toll on him.

“Good evening, Shoko.”

“Hey, Nanami. Please come in.”

“Thank you. I won't be here for long. I just want to check on her.”

“Definitely.”

Shoko leaves Nanami with an assuring grin. She goes back to you in the living room to inform you of the visitor. 

“Nanami is here. He wants to check on you.”

“Didn’t he call and you told him I am okay? He knows I am spending the night here.”

“Dear, Nanami is your husband and he would do his absolute best to win you back and you know that. I haven’t seen you acting like this before towards him.”

“Because he never shouted at me before! Kento knows I have a traumatic past and I don’t want to go through it again.”

Uttered faintly, you bring your knees to your chest and hug yourself.

“I am not in a good state yet to see him, Shoko. I am sorry…”

Defeated, Shoko sighs and gives your back a soft pat. She understands what you mean but she wishes this quarrel would be resolved sooner than later. 

Kento hears footsteps coming to him, hoping they are yours. To his dismay, it is Shoko empty handed.

“I am sorry, Nanami. I tried my best but she is stubborn.”

“I understand. My apologies for coming this late at night. I shall get going.”

“Thanks, Nanami. Good night.”

With a sinking heart, Nanami retreats to your shared home. He knew you wouldn’t come back with him, but the last thing he wanted to see before going to sleep is his loving wife’s face. This is the first night he spends without you safe and sound in his arms.

“Rise and shine, Missy. Breakfast is ready.”

“Good morning to you too.” You reply in a raspy voice.

It is the next morning and Shoko bursts into the bedroom to wake you up. Sunshine flows through the curtains illuminating the whole area. You stretch out of the bed after a good night’s sleep; much better and recharged.

As you reach the kitchen table, you find delicious pastries from your favourite cafe. Cheddar and Turkey filled croissants, raspberry tarte and much more.

“Nanami passed by and brought them. You were still asleep and he didn’t want me to wake you up.”

Your cheeks turn pink at the mention of his name. You find yourself bashful and start missing him already.

“I think I will text him after I am done.” “You better do it, Mrs. Kento.”

“Shoko!!” She teases you with a wink.

True to your words, you grab your phone after finishing breakfast to thank Kento. Unlocking the phone, his texts are the first thing you notice.

Kento 💙: Good morning, sweetheart. I brought you your favourite breakfast. Please eat well.

Kento 💙: I miss you, so much. Home isn’t the same without you.

Kento 💙: I hope I can see you soon.

Your heart swells with love from his texts. You do miss him too, but a bit shy to tell him so. Taking a picture of the empty pastry boxes, you text him a “Thank you 💖” message. Kento immediately replies.

Kento 💙: I am glad you liked them. Have a good day, love.

Later on, you and Shoko decided to spend the day at the nearby park. The weather is warm and sunny; too good to be wasted. You pack some snacks, drinks, along with a light lunch. You also bring UNO, your favourite card game. As you both arrive at the park, you pick a good spot beside this big tree. The park is quiet today, it is Monday after all. The area surrounding you is full of greenery, pretty flowers flowing from the bushes, white butterflies dancing around them, and birds chirping on tree branches. You sigh in content, smiling at Shoko being grateful for making such a good decision. 

“I see you in a good mood.” Shoko smirks at you.

“That’s a fact, thankfully.” Grinning at Shoko, you take out the UNO pack to start playing with her. Time passes by when you are having a good time. After five matches, both of you get tired and hungry. It is almost five when you are unpacking your lunches. 

“Have you decided on anything?” Shoko asks as she takes a bite from her sandwich.

“I think I am going home tonight. I can’t leave Kento all this time by himself.”

“Ohhh, someone is homesick after all.” She teases you.

“I do miss him, Shoko. Whatever happens between us, it won’t stop me from loving him and fixing things together.”

“Alright, alright, Missy. Eat up while it is still fresh.”

You nod at her and start eating while you enjoy the scenery. After a while, your mind wanders, lost in thought about Kento. 

“Is something wrong?” Shoko asks as she is waving her hand, seeing you lost in thought.

“No, it is just that I haven’t heard from Kento since morning. I wonder if he is alright.” Worry starts showing on your face.

“Speaking of which, turn around to find out.” Shoko chuckles.

“What are you talking about, Shoko?” 

Confused, you do turn around to find your blonde husband from a distance walking towards you, in his beige suit and blue shirt, looking fine as always, hiding something behind his back. As he approaches with a soft smile, you get up on your feet to greet him. You hold your hands to your chest, your beating heart is dancing with happiness as he reaches you.

“Hello, darling.” Kento softly speaks as he caresses your cheek.

“Hello, Kento.” You reply blissfully, leaning into his touch.

“I brought you this. Please accept my apology.” 

From behind his back, he gives you a big bouquet of pretty white tulips, your favourite kind of flowers. 

“Oh my god, Kento. You really didn’t have to.” 

You joyfully receive them, holding them dearly in your embrace.

“That’s the least I can do to you, love. I would bring the whole world to you if I could.” 

He is glad that you accepted his apology. Sighing in content, as he holds your hand into his, he is sure of your answer when he asks, “Will you come home with me?” “Yes, Kento. Let’s go home together.”

Giggling to each other, you hear Shoko clapping at this happy ending.

“Well, well, well. The two love birds are finally back together.” 

Wiping her fake tears, you and Kento laugh at her sense of humour. Kento thanks her for taking care of you, and you give her a big hug for being such a great friend. You help her pack everything back, but this time, you are going back home with Kento.

[eneablack]

101 wishes technique

Time ago, I think it was in 2017, I came across this manifestation method on youtube, I just looked for it now and I can’t find any media that talks about it for some reason so I’ll just have to rely on memory and personal modifications.

edit: omg I found it but it’s in italian > video > there are some differences in the method but anyway.

1. Take whatever journal you have, or buy one

When I knew about this method I used a small sized journal so that I could take it with me everywhere and hide it easily if you’re a closeted manifestor like me. You can first type in your notes app, but then you’ll have to write down the end thing on a journal.

2. Think about 101 things you want to manifest and write them down as a list, starting the phrase with “I want”

Example: n1- I want 1.000.000€ in my credit card, n2- I want a red pony, n3- I want to have super speed, etc…

A hundred-one things may seem a lot and they probably are, but you can think about literally anything, big or small, even just a random drive in mcdonalds from mom, or a castle in transylvania, and I came across some accounts on here that made posts of “what to manifest for fun” on various topics, such as supernatural, beauty wise, academic, and so on.

3. Read it all over every morning right after you wake up, or every night right before going to sleep

I used to read it at night before falling asleep so that I could detach better from it, but you do you

4. Just wait for da magic to happen

I remember that the man in the video said that, after a thing manifests, you can substitute it with a new wish.

“Rules”

you can do whatever you want of course, loa has no limits, these are just come of the rules i found in the video

- Start each wish with “I want” (not “I wish” or “I would like”, be firm)

- Avoid negative words (no, don’t, un, less, immune, etc)

- Maximum 14 words for each wish (it’s the max time you would have to whisper something in a breath)

- Avoid diminutives (“I want a little house at the beach” > you might find a little barbie house lmao)

- GO CRAZY with the wishes, write seemingly impossible desires, write down everything you ever wished for, they will become reality even faster

Before any little kid attacks me for putting rules over manifestation I’ll clear my throat one time and say “DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT” and don’t limit yourself. Those “rules” are just the ones said in the video, and I use them basically for fun, because if you affirm anything against those “rules” you will still get your desired outcome because you’re a god and gods can do whatever the fuck they want without limit, so just sit and relax.

You can see results instantly, some people have received some of their manifestation on the same day, while others took more time, but it all comes down to your assumptions.

This is kind of a Law of Attraction thingy, because you just have to write down your desires, read them every day, and then detach. I hope you don’t hate me for speaking about something non-loassumption, I hope you still love me for who I am.

[eevees-hobbies]

Just hear me out… you already having a baby w the bofurin and shishitoren boys (loml big dick Togame) and saying “our baby is so cute, i want another one” and they’re like “yeah? you want me to give you another baby?” And then boom they’re fucking another baby into you 🤭 (nobody look at me PLS)

Author’s Note: Part of the “Let That Man Breed You 2024” campaign! 

Content Warning: TW: Pregnancy. TW: Sexualization of the Pregnant Body. TW: Body Changes As a Result of Pregnancy. Heavy breeding kink, lactation fetish, Togame likes you dependent on him while you’re pregnant. He calls you mama. Getting your brains fucked out, mention of creampie. And as always, every pregnancy is different, and your mileage may vary! Minors Do Not Interact. 

Word Count: 1.2K

Babies can be fairly precarious things. They consume your life as soon as you conceive them, taking up real estate in your womb, wreaking havoc on your senses, and using your bladder as their personal trampoline. And when they’re born? You eat, sleep, and breathe “baby” because “baby” is your new way of life.

But do you know what else babies are good at? When they look at you with big, bright eyes, squeezing your finger in their small, delicate hand, and giving you a sweet giggle, they are remarkably good at convincing you that those sleepless nights weren’t so bad. Witching hour? More like party hour! Foul-smelling diapers? You don’t need your sense of smell anyway!

Beautiful black curls, chubby cheeks, and doe-sized emerald green eyes are to blame for the position you’re in–literally and figuratively speaking, of course.

You found yourself turning to Togame after putting your little one to sleep, your mouth already moving before your brain could truly comprehend the weight of your words: “He’s so cute, Jo. I want to make another one.”

Famous last words and all that.

And that’s why you’re now bent over, face-down, and ass perched as high as a back arch will allow in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom with Togame’s cock buried so deep inside your cunt that your eyes are watering.

“Mmm, you want me to put another baby in you, mama?”

You bite your lip, hiccuping through the intensity of him stirring your guts, and give him a nod. You can see his face in the reflection of the mirror—he’s brandishing his signature lazy, half-smile, but his eyes are as if in a trance as they sweep over your body, admiring the way your juicy cunt swallows his cock with each hard backshot he delivers. His cock-head is repeatedly bullying the spot that makes you cry out with each thrust, feeling so good that your thighs have been trembling since you both started and show no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“Y-yeah, baby! W-wanna girl this time!”

He grunts, his hand grabbing a fistful of your ass and not regretting being rough in the slightest as each plea, demand, whimper, grunt, and whine he elicits from you only makes him more entranced.

He loves how you ask—and beg—for him to breed you. Togame had always considered himself a simple man. Kinks? Eh, he had preferences, sure, and certain things got him more riled up than most, but he became a changed man as soon as you became pregnant with his son.

It makes him a different, less in-control being thinking about your belly growing round again, the cute waddle that you’ll develop because you can’t see your feet, and this is one of the more critical and selfish reasons, but he loves that you’ll need him for absolutely everything.

“Togame, help me stand up.”

“Ugh, Togame, please help me tie my shoe.”

“Togame, need yoooooou.”

And while none of those reasons may be sexual in nature–maybe the desire for your dependency on him might be, but that’s an analysis for a different day–there are sexual fantasies and kinks that he is able to live out while you’re carrying his child. 

He loves having you ride him, fully pregnant, as you bounce on his dick. At first, you were hesitant to do so, scared that the added weight of the additional human housed inside you would be too much, but he simply grabbed your hand and guided your wrist to his mouth, where he placed a trail of soft, languid kisses.

“You don’t need to worry about any of that. Now, ride me, pretty girl.”

And when you finally got out of your own head? Trivial thoughts about your new body vanished because how can anyone focus with 9 inches of cock buried inside of them? Definitely not you!

Togame looked up at you and swore that if he died at that moment, he might not be too upset about it. His hands cupping your already swollen and heavy breasts as you grip and grind at his cock is the closest he’s ever felt to cumming inside of you faster than he ever thought possible.

“Baby,” he coos, “you’re doing so good bouncin’ on my dick, but say the word, and I’ll take over.”

He loves how wide your hips have gotten after carrying and birthing your first child, his hands always somehow finding a way to squeeze you there, even in public. People have to look away because when he does it, it feels so intimate and laced with a sexual undertone. 

He just can’t help it because, fuck, does motherhood look good on you. 

And Togame absolutely loses his mind when you come to him, wincing in pain because the baby didn’t drink enough of your milk, so now your breasts are rock-hard, and you need relief.

“Please help me, Togame,” you whimper, voice straining to fully verbalize what you need, so you raise your hands to your chest and gently motion to your breasts. 

And to Togame, the sight is glorious; your breasts struggling to fit in your shirt and nipples managing to leak breast milk even through your padded bra? If only you knew the unholy thoughts that flow in this man’s head when you come to him in such a vulnerable state.

He’d rest his head in your lap, looking up at your darkened nipples, surrounded by a puffy areola, the tip now flowing with droplets of thick, fresh breast milk. He’ll latch his mouth around the sensitive bud, sucking in mouthfuls while his other hand squeezes the other neglected nipple, streams of milk squirting out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, baby, that feels so good.” 

And he loves the way people ogle your big belly in public as they can’t help but stare because even in the womb, Togame gives you big babies. He loves knowing that they’re thinking about him stuffing you full of his seed, creampieing you an insurmountable amount of times to get you so round, so big, so sexy. 

“Don’t worry, mama. I got ya’ I know exactly what you need.”

He delivers hard smacks to your ass, making the fat of it ripple and bounce against him as he presses his palm on your shoulder and pushes you down, your cheek now buried in the plush rug on your floor as Togame bends a long leg at your side to give him better leverage.

As your mind goes blank, and a sliver of drool escapes the corner of your mouth because god, he’s so deep, and even as you try and shift under him, the hand on your shoulder is unwavering.

“Now, now, mama. This is what you wanted, right? What you asked for? Just relax for me, and I’ll do allllll the work.”

Everything about him is just so big, his frame, his 9 inches of thick cock, and his heavy balls. It’s just so much! But you have to take it all if you want him to give you another baby. 

And to Togame, you look so good like this—ethereal even—fucked out on his cock that’s drilling into you, heavy tits squished against the floor, and so willing to take everything he has to offer you.

“Mmm, here it comes, mama. Ya ready for your first load of the night?” 

“Gonna give you that baby girl I promised.” 

“You lookin’ at yourself in the mirror, baby? Get a good look cuz you’ll be knocked up and swollen in a few months.”

@taytebby Delivery!

[honestlyvan]

ALAN WAKE 2 ANNOTATED: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WEIRD FINNISH GUY SAYING

(This post is also available on Dreamwidth)

Preamble: What is this?

There’s a lot of Finnish shit in Alan Wake 2. I speak Finnish. I’m really annoyed about how wrong about some of the things that are in Finnish in the game people actually are. @drdarling is an Ahti fan. We’re mutually annoyed about how wrong about Ahti people are, because in general the trend is people thinking Ahti is spooky and mysterious because they don’t know what he’s saying, rather than thinking he’s spooky and mysterious because of the things he’s saying.

So Autumn went through the entire game, transcribing Ahti’s dialogue, and I went through the transcript, translating everything untranslated in the game, and providing cultural context for the rest of it (with some saves from @saikkunen, @rhpurasu-blog, and my mum), because truly this dude is not nearly as cryptic as people make him out to be, and is actually twice as weird as people think he is as a result.

Disclaimer: Finnish is very regional, and even with people from all over pitching in, some of the shit Ahti says might still be idioms we’re not familiar with. If you’re a Finnish person reading this going “HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”, trust me that I had many moments like that while putting this together, and please leave a comment so I can add your insight :D

This post is going to go through all of Initiation, followed by all of Return. There's unmarked spoilers past the cut -- enter at your own risk.

INITIATION 1: LATE NIGHT

First meeting with Ahti as Alan:

Ah, (no niin) there you are, Tom. Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well. Not one without the other. Good to see you.

“No niin” -- utterance, roughly the same as “alright” or “now then”. “No” is a common filler word like “well.”

“Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well.” – “ei niin paljon pahaa ettei jotain hyvääkin”, a common Finnish turn of phrase. Broadly has the same meaning as “silver linings.”

Alan asks Ahti to point him towards the exit:

(No totta helvetissä.) Of course, Tom. The work will instruct its maker. I was gonna get something from the basement for you, but you can get it yourself now. The more cooks the worse the soup.

“No totta helvetissä” – “(in Hell), of course”, a variation on the phrase “totta kai”, meaning “certainly” or “of course”

“The work will instructs its maker” – “työ tekijäänsä opettaa”, common proverb. “You learn things by doing them.”

“The more cooks the worse the soup” – “mitä useampi kokki, sitä huonompi soppa”, common proverb, same as “too many cooks spoils the broth”

Alan asks Ahti what Ahti wants him to get from the basement and clarifies that his name is Alan, not Tom:

(No joo, mutta katopa kun) a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two, Tom. (Eikö niin?) And a man with a tool can build his own exit. It’s in a shoebox in the basement where you left it. Safe as in the Lord’s purse. Here’s the key.

“No joo, mutta katopa kun” – “see, here’s the thing (with that) is”

“a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two” – this may be an obscure saying, my whole gaggle of Finnish friends were equally stumped by it. Entirely possible it’s just those little shits from Espoo fucking with us, entirely possible that it’s a variation on a saying that we’re just not picking up on.

“Eikö niin?” – “isn’t it so?”/”Right?” a filler phrase. (It is very common for people to say this right after saying something that makes no fucking sense.)

“Safe as in the Lord’s purse.” – idiomatic, comes from the Bible (1 Samuel 25:29)

Alan asks Ahti if they have met before:

You remember Ahti. The janitor. You can’t be lost if you don’t worry about where you are headed. So don’t worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs. Just remember to turn on the lights. It won’t take long when you get to work.

“You remember Ahti. The janitor.” – the intonation of this line implies to me that in Finnish he’d be using emphatic -han/-hän for it

“You can’t be lost if you don’t worry about where you are headed.” – may be an obscure saying, none of us recognised it.

“the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs” – “paistaa se päivä risukasaankin”, everyone has their little successes, “every dog has its day”

“It won’t take long when you get to work” – “ei mene kauaa kunhan pääsee alkuun”, “as long as you get started it won’t take long (for the matter to resolve)”

Alan asks Ahti if he knows a way to escape The Dark Place:

He who moans about his troubles, is the prisoner of his troubles. It’s not easy to get out. But don’t you worry, Tom, the home is still there, where the heart is. I often think about it when I mop the floor and look into the puddle. Water is the memory of the world. Water finds its way.

“He who moans about his troubles, is the prisoner of his troubles.“ – “Joka murheistaan valittaa, on murheidensa vanki”, common proverb. Finnish people love telling other people to stop complaining.

INITIATION 4: WE SING

After the musical sequence, when you walk past Ahti in the studio:

My Swedish brothers, (perkele). (Ai että nyt on kyllä joo). (Lattoi pojat jenkkakoneet soimaan, saatana).

“Perkele” – “(by) the Devil”, one of the most common Finnish swear words.

“Ai että nyt on kyllä joo” – Untranslatable, can be approximated as “now we’re talking”, “that’s more like it”, or “a hell of a thing”. I love this phrase because it means fuck-all even in Finnish, and conveys a sense of deep appreciation regardless.

“Lattoi pojat jenkkakoneet soimaan, saatana” – literally “Those boys really made the jenkka machine ring, (by) Satan.” “Jenkkakone” refers to the band, playing a song for people to dance “jenkka”, a fast-paced folk dance to. (Addition from @sluiba: jenkkakone is a colloquial term for a jukebox, nowadays more commonly used to refer to audio equipment more broadly e.g. speakers; so he's basically saying, "those boys really turned it up to eleven".)

INITIATION 7: MASKS

When Alan runs into the janitor’s closet:

Hurry, Tom! Here is the light at the end of the tunnel. (Jumalauta), that held you close, Tom. (Ei muuta kun) onwards, said the granny in the snow. When the panic is biggest, the help is also near.

“Jumalauta” – “god help us/you”, a common swear word

“that held you close” – “otti läheltä”, meaning about the same as “a close call”. A more literal translation would be “that took close”.

“Ei muuta kun” – “nothing else to do about it, but”

“onwards, said the granny in the snow.” – “eteenpäin, sanoi mummo lumessa”, a common turn of phrase, an motivational expression of perseverance and sisu

“When the panic is biggest, the help is also near” – “kun hätä on suurin, on apukin lähellä”, a common turn of phrase, broadly means the same thing as “there is light at the end of the tunnel”, can be thought of as a more optimistic companion to “things will get worse before they get better”

(I like this block of dialogue a lot because it demonstrates that a lot of Ahti’s Finnish is just filler words and a tonal component to what he is actually saying.)

Alan mentions that Door didn’t seem happy to see him this time:

Fearing the master is the root of wisdom. But don’t let the game get you down. He is playing his role. Maybe put him in your films, Tom, like you have put me. (Perkele! Sehän olisikin).

“Fearing the master is the root of wisdom.” – “herran pelko on viisauden alku”, the fear of the lord (or rather, The Lord) is the beginning of wisdom. It’s an interesting choice to omit the reference to the Christian god, because it’s preserved in other phrases.

“Perkele! Sehän olisikin” – “(by) the Devil! Wouldn’t that be something.”

Alan asks what films Ahti is talking about:

I’m a fan of your masterworks. There is “Tom the Poet”, my favorite. And “Yötön Yö” is the most famous one, of course. And is it true what I hear, that it’s coming back to cinemas soon? Is there a bottom to this rumor?

“Is there a bottom to this rumor?” – “olla pohjaa”, to have a bottom, means “to have a factual basis”.

Alan says he needs to get back to his apartment, asks if Ahti can help:

Well-planned is half-done. You asked me to make sure you won’t forget the… (mikä se valokuva oli) light pictures, the photos that your artist wife took. They are waiting in the shoebox in the basement. What you leave behind, you find in front of you.

“Well-planned is half-done” – “hyvin suunniteltu on puoliksi tehty”, a common turn of phrase. What it says on the tin.

“mikä se valokuva oli” – “what was the word for ‘valokuva’ again”, a relatable bilingual moment. The Finnish word for photograph is literally just a compound word that directly translates to “light picture”.

“What you leave behind, you find in front of you.” – “minkä taakseen jättää, sen edestään löytää”, what goes around comes around.

He also has incidental dialogue, if you hang around after the conversation

I am looking forward to seeing “Yötön Yö” in the cinema, but first I work. And the work won’t end even when you do it (perkele). (No ei siinä), one potato at a time. Just remember, Tom - the brave will eat the pea soup.

“No ei siinä” – “well, nothing else to it”

“the work won’t end even when you do it” – “ei työ tekemällä lopu”, common proverb, warning against rushing and working too hard (because you won’t run out of work through hard work)

“one potato at a time” – “yksi peruna kerrallaan”. This one is so funny to me because he could have just said “one thing at a time”, since that phrase translates literally, and instead he says this just so sound slightly more Finnish.

“the brave will eat the pea soup” – “rohkea rokan syö”, a common proverb, used the same way as “fortune favours the bold”

RETURN 5: OLD GODS

At Valhalla Nursing Home, after Rose tells Ahti that he doesn’t need to clean, this is his home, and threatens to take his mop away even though she knows he would just find it again:

(Kyllä, kyllä mutta) once after being told no. Why rest, when you are born to work. (Eikö niin?)

“Kyllä, kyllä mutta” – “yeah, yeah, but”, exactly as “yeah yeah whatever” as you’d think it is.

“once after being told no.” – “kerta kiellon päälle”, a common idiom, to do something one last time before stopping for good. “One for the road”

“Why rest, when you are born to work” – possibly an obscure saying, the version I grew up with is “why rest when you are born to work hard (like a farmhand)”.

Rose tells Ahti to go pick a song from the jukebox, as a treat:

Yes box, holiday. Just thinking about it makes my dance foot waggle. (Kyllä näin on).

“Yes box, holiday” – This is a reference to Pirkka-Pekka Petelius, a Finnish sketch comedian from the Eighties. “Jees” is a loanword from the English “yes”, meaning “good, decent, alright”. The original append was far more vulgar, translating more properly to “yes box, dick face”

“makes my dance foot waggle” – “tanssijalka vipattamaan”, a common turn of phrase, means “makes you want to dance/makes you start dancing” depending on the context.

“Kyllä näin on.” – “That’s the way it is”, common filler phrase.

Saga introduces herself:

(No eipä siinä). Name won’t make the man worse, even a Swedish name. I’m Ahti.

“No eipä siinä” – filler phrase, same as “No ei siinä”

“Name won’t make the man worse” – “ei nimi miestä pahenna”, a common proverb, similar in meaning as “don’t judge a book by its cover”

Saga asks if there’s anything good on the jukebox:

We try to do good, but only prime comes out. Music from my Swedish brothers, Old Gods of Asgard. My pals, the (perkeleen) vikings, (perkele).

“We try to do good, but only prime comes out.” – “Hyvää koitetaan tehä mut priimaa tuloo”. This is a very specifically Bothnian turn of phrase, he’s just bragging about the Old Gods making good music.

“(perkeleen) vikings” – “Perkele” being used as an adjective for emphasis.

Saga asks where to find the Andersons:

You can never know where. Only a seaman can know that, but even the seaman can’t know everything.

“Only a seaman can know that” – this is also an honest to god pop culture reference, to a song called “Vain merimies voi tietää” (“Only the sailor knows”) by Tapio Rautavaara.

Saga asks if Ahti was in the band:

(Minäkö?) No no. (Perkele, saatana, en ollu en). Not so much sweet that it fills the whole stomach. But we have shared a stage or two.

“Minäkö? Perkele, saatana, en ollu en.” – “Me? (Perkele, saatana), absolutely not.” “Me” in the interrogative has a slightly dismissive/diminutive vibe in Finnish.

“Not so much sweet that it fills the whole stomach.” – “ei makiaa mahan täydeltä”, a classic turn of phrase about not overindulging.

Ahti’s incidental dialogue, hanging out by the jukebox as Saga:

Rain is coming down like from the ass of Esteri. (Vaikka vettähän ne kyllä lupasikin, että…)

“Rain is coming down like from the ass of Esteri” – “vettä tulee kuin Esterin perseestä”, same as “raining cats and dogs”

“Vaikka vettähän ne kyllä lupasikin, että…” – “Although (they, the weather forecast) did promise it would rain, so…”

Rushing is not good for you and hurry is not an honor. (Lietkö olet tämmöistä kuullut.)

“Rushing is not good for you and hurry is not an honor” – “ei ole hoppu hyväksi eikä kiire kunniaksi”, a very common idiom. What it says on the tin.

“Lietkö olet tämmöistä kuullut” – “I wonder if you’ve heard (of) such a thing”, he’s just making fun of Saga for being “hasty.”

(Joo näinhän se menee, että…) the lazy man gets sweaty when he eats and gets chilly when he works. (Se oli kyllä hyvin sanottu.) The song revives the soul.

“Joo näinhän se menee, että” – a filler phrase, similar meaning as saying “as they say”.

“the lazy man gets sweaty when he eats and gets chilly when he works” – “hiki laiskan syödessä, vilu työtä tehdessä”, a common proverb excoriating people for laziness.

“Se oli kyllä hyvin sanottu” – “That was well said”. This whole exchange comes across as Ahti trying to impart some words of wisdom to Saga.

After the power goes out, Ahti has dialogue upstairs:

No use crying in the dark place. What has been, has gone. But trouble doesn’t look like this! You can go to the basement and check the generator. But look out - you can never know in which tree the devil sits.

“No use crying in the dark place.” – This is most likely a deliberate play on words from Ahti. The relevant Finnish proverb is “ei auta itku markkinoilla” (there’s no use crying at the marketplace) which means it’s pointless to waste time feeling sorry for yourself.

“What has been, has gone.” – “ollutta ja mennyttä”, usually this phrase is used the same way as “water under the bridge”

“But trouble doesn’t look like this!” – “ei hätä ole tämän näköinen”, common turn of phrase communicating that the situation is not as bad as it seems.

“you can never know in which tree the devil sits.” – “ei sitä koskaan tiedä missä puussa piru istuu”, common proverb. The word used for devil, “piru”, refers to a folk devil or an evil spirit rather than a capital-letter Devil the way “Saatana” and “Perkele” do.

Ahti jumpscare at the Spiral door:

Getting in is forbidden, for your own safety. Time is long for those who wait. But in the end, stand the thanks.

“Time is long for those who wait” – “odottavan aika on pitkä”, common turn of phrase. Same meaning as “time is slow for those who wait”.

“in the end, stand the thanks.” – “lopussa kiitos seisoo”, common turn of phrase. Similar meaning as “good things come to those who wait.” The word for “thanks” can also be used to mean “reward”.

Saga asks Ahti is he knows anything about the Cult of the Tree:

Yes, yes! He who reaches for a spruce tree will stumble into a juniper. Blum was one of them. He has kicked empty. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. But I like his shoes.

“He who reaches for a spruce tree will stumble into a juniper.” – “joka kuuseen kurkottaa se katajaan kapsahtaa”, a common proverb about (edited by suggestion from Sluiba again) the dangers of excessive ambition and greed.

“He has kicked empty.” – “potkaissut tyhjää”, common idiom, "kicked the bucket"

Saga asks Ahti how he knows Blum was in the Cult:

A fox never runs out of tricks. Tease a crazy man and he will show his ways. Blum liked to talk.

“A fox never runs out of tricks “ – “ei ketulta keinot lopu”, proverb. Foxes are traditionally tricksters in Finnish folklore.

“Tease a crazy man and he will show his ways “ – “härnää hullua, saat tapansa tietää”, proverb. In essence, “fuck around and find out.”

Saga asks Ahti if he knows where Anger’s Remorse is, after finding the empty record sleeve:

The matter is not my business, (mutta niin, sanotaanko vaikka, että) but she who steals a needle, steals a nail. Wonders of the modern world - music captured on vinyl, on tape. What will they come up with next? (Mitähän ne vielä keksii) I’m a man of the old union.

“mutta niin, sanotaanko vaikka, että” – “but, yeah, let’s just say”

“but she who steals a needle, steals a nail.” – “Joka varastaa neulan, varastaa naulan”, an old proverb. I’d like to note that Finnish does not have gendered pronouns, so Ahti is deliberately giving a hint here. (Addition from @sluiba: "[the proverb] suggests that someone unscrupulous enough to steal small things will likely also steal something bigger.")

“Mitähän ne vielä keksii” – “what (else) are they going to come up with”

“I’m a man of the old union.” – “Vanhan liiton mies”, a biblical reference to the covenant in the Old Testament. He’s basically calling himself older than Christ. The phrase itself is used to mean "old-fashioned" in a positive sense.

Weird idle dialogue in Ahti’s room after this:

There are pieces of george on the floor everywhere. The black stuff. Shitty thing. Very bad. I need to clean it all away. (Perkele, kun sotketaan joka paikka)!

“pieces of george” – very sneaky, he’s saying it look like someone threw up (yrjötä, the name “Yrjö” being a Finnish form of George) on the floor.

“Perkele, kun sotketaan joka paikka” – “(Perkele), what a mess they’ve made of everything!”

(Kulkaapa nyt, mikä…) (Mitäs, mikä paikka tämä on?) (Voi helvetti soikoon). Where am I? (Tämä ei ole minun koti). This is not my home. (Minä haluan…) I want to go home now. What is this place? (Ei saatana. Ei saatana!) How did I get here? I’m lost… lost at sea. No lighthouse anywhere, and a storm is coming. (Voi jumalauta).

“Kulkaapa nyt, mikä… Mitäs, mikä paikka tämä on?” – “listen here, what… Where, what is this place?”

“Voi helvetti soikoon” – cursing, literally translates to “oh, how Hell rings (like a bell)”

“Tämä ei ole minun koti. Minä haluan…” – “This is not my home. I want…”

RETURN 8: DEERFEST

Alan goes to the Spiral Door in the Dark Place and sees Ahti there:

We loop around, and come together, Tom. I have put everything ready for the visitors. I’ll come to wash the floor of your room next. All you need is water and Vileda. Water is the oldest balm. Water finds its way. What water brings, it takes away. It can be clean or dirty, it can give life or drown it.

“We loop around, and come together” – “ympäri käydään, yhteen tullaan”, a common turn of phrase. “What goes around comes around.”

“All you need is water and Vileda.” – Vileda is a popular cleaning supplies brand. He’s quoting an advertisement.

“Water is the oldest balm.” – “vesi vanhin voitehista”, from Kalevala. What it says on the tin.

Alan asks if Ahti can help him find his way one last time:

Now there’s a devil in the fish trap. Don’t be spooked by it so that shit won’t start beating your underpants. Okay, I’ll get the door open for you, Tom. There you go. The matter is a steak. Now comes the end of the rhyme.”

“there’s a devil in the fish trap” – “olla piru merrassa”, an idiom. It means that there’s unfortunate consequences for something you did, similar to “a devil to pay”

“Don’t be spooked by it so that shit won’t start beating your underpants” – “älä säiky ettei lyö paskat housuihin”, would be more properly translated as “so that shit doesn’t drop hard into your pants”. Means the same thing as it does in English.

“The matter is a steak.” – “asia on pihvi”, idiom meaning that something has been exhaustively dealt with, the way you make steak out of a cow.

“Now comes the end of the rhyme” – “tuli lorun loppu”, idiom with a similar meaning and implication as “end of the line”, the expected end of the current circumstances.

And that’s a wrap! If there’s interest, and if I can get an assist from Autumn again, I might go back to Control and do the same thing for Ahti there. The point is to do justice to our collective weird uncle from the Remedy Connected Universe. Hope you had fun and learned something new :D

[wareagleofthemountain]

Here’s a compilation of all my behind the scenes HCs that I imagine Thranduil and his queen shared in their domestic lives

Being that they often stayed up late working on paperwork, battle strategies, and other royal duties, Thranduil and his wife had a mental cookbook of DIY recipes. This came from the countless times they’ve whipped up a last minute dish made from leftovers at 2 AM. Including desserts and, as a law, they feed each other a spoonful of whipped cream whenever one of them takes the container out.

Thranduil’s wife loves to tease him for having a “Doriath accent” whenever he speaks in Elvish. Which he of course passes on to Legolas. Sometimes, when he’s pronounced a word particularly heavy in his Doriath inflection, she’ll chuckle and repeat it back to him just as he said it so he can’t deny his accent as he always does. But, for all her teasing, she thinks his speech is adorable.

Thranduil has a slightly lopsided smirk due to the burn scars on the right side of his face. Even with his masking spell, the right half of his lip droops down when he smiles.

Thranduil’s wife always takes care when approaching him on his blind side, touching his shoulder and gently brushing her body against his side to make him known of her presence before she speaks lest she startle him.

Thranduil wears low cut v-necks at his wife’s request. She loved to brush her fingers over his collarbone whenever she passed him as a sign of affection so he made it a point to keep that area accessible to her.

No personal space for the queen. Although she had her own throne, Thranduil much preferred to hold her in his lap with his chin atop her head during meetings.

Every night before bed and every morning before breakfast, Thranduil rests his head in his wife’s lap and holds her free hand as the other works healing salve into his scars. She’s the only one, besides his healers when he’d first been burned, that he allows himself to drop his protective shield around. He was fearful at first that she may be put off by what she saw, but she only loved that part of him fiercely and shamelessly.

Thranduil’s elk and the queen are very close. He often follows her around whenever she goes for a walk, and he’ll still try to follow her even when Thranduil is trying to ride him in a different direction. The king will have to tug on his reigns and put in a good deal of effort to get his mount on a different path.

The white gems were a just because gift for his wife, as Thranduil was so thankful to be married to her that he often surprised her with gifts.

When meetings become long and dull without any important topics being discussed, Thranduil and his wife will entertain themselves by passing a paper back and forth. The rest assume that they are just taking notes, but really they’re drawing. Someone starts on the picture and they pass it around, adding on to it until the meeting is over. The end result is always interesting and Thranduil has a locked drawer in his office where he keeps them.

The queen and baby Legolas often drop by the king’s throne room and bring him flowers they’ve picked while out on a walk.

The night Thranduil was crowned king, before his official ceremony, his wife and son crowned him in their bedchamber after everyone had finished getting dressed. They didn’t have a silken red carpet so the queen rolled out a long red bath towel. They didn’t have a royal scepter so toddler Legolas fetched a branch he’d brought inside. But they did have the crown, so Thranduil took a knee before his wife and she said, “by the power vested in me by Prince Legolas Greenleaf of the woodland realm, I name you king Thranduil Oropherion. Leader, protector, and defender of our land.” She placed the crown atop his head, Legolas tapped his shoulders with the stick, and Thranduil tackle hugged them both. He’d never felt more like a king than in that moment, and he always considered this his true right to rule.

The king and queen dislike being apart longer than absolutely necessary, and never tire of each other’s company. The queen considers their marriage as having an eternal sleepover with her best friend. Which is accurate as I think they have been close since childhood.

They made a game of hiding one of Legolas’s stuffed toys in various places around the palace. Once it’s found, it’s the other’s turn to hide it.

They can’t sleep unless they’re cuddling.

Whenever someone new moves into their kingdom, Thranduil and his wife make them a welcome gift basket filled with local plants and foods, as well as a few household staples.

The couple are good friends with Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian. However, the Queen and Celebrian are on another level. They’re practically sisters and declare a “no boys allowed” hang out session whenever they visit. They just wanna drink wine, try on dresses, and plot to take over the world (but you didn’t hear that from me).

When they were pregnant, the ladies took turns hosting vacation weekends at their estates.

Thranduil gets rather possessive of his wife when around human men, keeping his arm wrapped around her at all times and glaring if someone stares at her a moment too long. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, it’s just that he knows human males aren’t as well mannered as elven men. Plus they tend to stare more and he hates that. Same for dwarves.

They rarely ever argue as the couple has always made it a point in their relationship to be open with one another. There is truly nothing that can’t be discussed between them.

The first time the queen saw how terrifying and brutal Thranduil could be in a battle, she was actually quite scared and it took him a few days to ease her back into feeling comfortable around him.

Whenever they go out for a ride in winter, Thranduil always seats her on the saddle in front of him and hides her in his cloak with her back pressed against his warm chest.

He’s definitely the type to shamelessly check out his wife from atop his throne as she walks by. They also playfully flirt with one another whenever they can.

Thranduil loves to nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist.

Sad, but the Queen’s body had been so brutalized by orcs that there was not enough of it to bring back for a proper burial, so Thranduil ordered the statue be built in place of a grave. On his worst nights, when he’s absolutely sure no one is around and fails to drink himself to sleep, he’ll curl up on the forest floor at the foot of the statue for some sort of comfort in order to close his eyes. He also sometimes pays it a visit just to plant more flowers and tell it about his day or how much Legolas has grown. Obviously he knows it’s an inanimate object, but he misses her so much.

He and the Queen have an inside joke involving Elros. Thranduil had hired the guard himself without the presence of his wife, so it wasn’t until the next day that Elros encountered the Queen while standing watch at Thranduil’s side during a public audience. The Queen was never one for formality so she was easily mistaken by him as a commoner due to her simple attire. When she’d attempted to step out onto the stage beside her husband as he spoke, Elros drew his blade and told her that she was standing too close to the king. Now, sometimes when she’s standing near Thranduil, she’ll take a few steps back and say “wouldn’t want to stand too close to his Majesty” with a wink. It makes Thranduil grin in amusement and Elros blush terribly.

Thranduil is constantly holding his wife’s hand.

During holidays, the queen sees to decorating the palace herself and always comes up with at least one fun craft for her and Thranduil to try each season.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Nilou x Veteran!Warrior!Male!Reader

A/N: Here's something light and hopefully fun to read. Enjoy! CW: None.

When Nilou’s fans come up to her for autographs, they can’t help but cast worried glances at the man next to her. Despite officially being only a bodyguard, the warm smiles and kind looks you exchange with each other have made your love obvious to the people of Sumeru. Nobody mentions it in her, let alone your presence though - they know you’re not someone to be messed with. 

Nobody really knows where you fought, but your more-than-professional demeanor, your grizzled eyes, speaking of experience, make it more than obvious that you’ve seen your share. Your handling of weapons makes you a commanding presence - you hardly ever have to speak to make sure Nilou has as much space as she needs to feel comfortable. 

For your adorable lover, however, your presence is quite the opposite - you’re a guarantee of comfort and safety, and such a cute one at that! She finds it positively heartwarming how you compare to her. You’re a big, strong and scary guy while she’s a tiny and innocent girl. 

Nilou: Hey sweetie, can you… pick me up, please? Y/N: Hm? Oh, of course.  Nilou: W-whoah! Hehe~ It’s like in those fairytales, isn’t it?

You’re her knight in shining armor, and she’s your princess in need of keeping safe and sound. It always gets her heart racing when you remind her just how fragile and gentle she is - as a flower, needing strong hands to protect her from the cold winds. 

Speaking of digits, she really enjoys holding hands with you. Your hands, just like your whole person, are the precise opposites of her. They are big, rough, full of little scratches, scars and other wear-and-tear from your days of campaigns and fighting. They were and still are capable of feats of great strength and violence - she saw how tightly you grip the sword, just as she saw your enemies staggering under your blows. And yet, despite that, you are as gentle with her as can be when you stroke her hair or touch her cheek. 

With your body being as it is, you make for a very safe shelter for her. Nilou would like nothing else than to curl up in your strong, masculine arms, safely away from the threats and dangers of the world. Your body is also very good at heating her up on cold days with how big it is. A perfect pillow, a perfect ladder, a perfect vehicle, a perfect jar opener - she enjoys it thoroughly, and isn’t afraid to show her appreciation of you. 

Whenever you’re shirtless, expect Nilou to always show respect to your scars. They are marks of a warrior, a courageous man who endured wounds and stood tall through adversity. She’ll kiss them gently, and if you allow her, trace her fingers along them with featherlight touches. Nilou would love to learn their stories, but will understand when you don’t want to share them. She knows that these particular ones might have scarred more than your body. 

Nilou enjoys taking care of her big, strong man. She will cook for you whenever there’s a chance, even if you insist otherwise. 

Nilou: Here you go honey! Enjoy~ Y/N: This is wonderful… But you didn’t have to go all this way, you know? I have a pair of hands… Nilou: Hey, don’t mention it. It’s my obligation and my pleasure as your woman to keep you just as healthy and happy as you keep me, right? I think it's just fair, sweetie.

Nilou is very aware that her anxiety regarding leaving Sumeru City is a result of her sheltered life. She’s never really left it - the wilderness is teeming with bandits, Fatui and monsters who would all gladly have a piece of her if the opportunity came. She might have a Vision, but Nilou’s no warrior - she never practiced using it for combat, never had the need to fight, nor is she a very strong girl. With you by her side, however, she feels safe. She knows you’ll keep her way out of danger - she saw you fight, so trust isn’t the sole thing backing up her belief in your capabilities. Nilou truly enjoys walks out in the forest without a care in the world as well as picnics with you. Still, she insists on getting back before it gets dark, and if evening catches you by surprise, you’ll find her gripping your hand and sticking very close to you. 

Kindness speaks through your eyes, but they also betray years of experience and proficiency at fighting. This is the exact reason that Nilou’s manager decided that you’d make a perfect bodyguard for Nilou. Sure, Sumeru wasn’t really known for violent incidents, but you never know. The simple fact that you happen to be her husband is an added benefit as well. Nilou is more motivated, feels safer and is generally happier when you’re nearby. Besides, she only agrees to leave for Port Ormos if you accompany her, which by itself is a big step up from before when she was confined to Sumeru City. Still, other locations are for the future only for the time being.

Y/N: I’m sorry miss, but this is a staff only area. Woman: I am allowed to pass. Nilou: Is everything alright?  Y/N: Yes, Nilou. Turns back May I see proof of this then? Woman: I don’t need to show a grunt like you anything. Do you know who I am? Y/N: No and, frankly, I do not care. Please step back. Woman: I have my methods for types like you! Y/N: leans in And I have my methods of making you into a headstone or a vegetable. You may take your pick.

Due to the nature of your past job, some may see a killer in you, but Nilou doesn’t share their outlook. She might be young, optimistic and innocent by nature, but it doesn’t mean she’s oblivious to what war is. Your stories, as dark and upsetting as they are, only furthered her disdain towards conflict, but not towards you. 

Nilou knows that you cannot expect someone to act humane in an inhuman situation. She knows that the people and creatures you had killed were not killed for your own amusement, but because it was a simple choice between you and them. She does not hate you - she never will. You are just like the thousands of other young men, sent to the frontlines and made to kill monsters or their fellow man without much choice in the matter. 

She does appreciate that the war made you the man of today - a rugged, attractive beast of a fearless man - but she won't ever as much as think of suggesting that the war had a positive effect on you. Saying this wouldn't only be insensitive, but also, sadly, untrue. 

Your experiences left a permanent mark on you. They scarred both your body and your mind. She can see it in your eyes. You haven't fully left the battlefield, left the army, and it is plain to see. You have a set daily schedule, for example. You also keep a sword by your bedside and a dagger under your pillow. “Just in case” you promise, but she knows better than that. 

You have dreams about your past that might come and go, as you reassure her, but seeing you in distress breaks her heart. Nilou was always waking you up whenever a nightmare haunted you, calmly reassuring you that it's okay, that it's all a dream. She grounds you with gentle touches and soft words, expertly bringing you back to reality. At home, you dislike talking about the war, just as you dislike noise, especially metallic in nature. Nilou understands that, and makes sure to avoid rattling kitchen equipment and the like when she's preparing you food, for example. 

Speaking of cooking, and taking care of you in general, it doesn’t bother her at all, partly because of what you experienced. In the last, you have been forced out of your home and into a life of violence and approved murder where every day could be your last. But now you're home - with her. She is your wife, your home, your safe refuge. It's only natural for her to find fulfillment and pleasure in creating a loving retreat for you to rest your weary soul in. 

She is thrilled to help you and care for you, for just one, simple reason. She loves you. 

Thanks for reading!

[heliads]

You Agreed to This

Pierre Gasly has a reputation for flirting with anything that breathes. You have a reputation for being scarily focused on racing. When Charles, Lando, and Esteban get it into their heads to dare Pierre to get you to fall in love with him, the results can only be tragic.

a/n: i was frustrated when i couldn't find fics with this vague plotline like two months ago and then i remembered that i can simply make them myself. anyway this is my longest fic to date (6k+ words), enjoy!

masterlist

The whole affair started in the recesses of the Alpine motorhome, too far from prying eyes and chances to stop before it got bad. Miami is boiling hot as per usual, it gets to Pierre just like it always does. He’s trying to fend off the heat by hiding somewhere deep within his team’s complex, team jacket stripped off somewhere on a nearby sofa and fans cranked on high. 

It was just Pierre at the beginning, but drivers tend to flock together in times of heat related stress, and now there are four of them sprawled across floors and furniture in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. Charles found Pierre first, just like he usually does, then Lando followed after media duties were over, and Esteban was last, claiming that if this many rival drivers were there he had a right to die in his own motorhome too, god damn it.

Pierre has mixed thoughts on that. He has mixed thoughts on quite a lot, actually– the blistering temperatures are getting to him, swirling memories into fact into fiction. He’ll get his head in order when it comes time to race, but that won’t happen until tomorrow, once qualis are in order and they’ve all been shunted around for the grid lineup.

Across the room, Lando groans from the shadows of a functionally decorated armchair. “This is miserable.”

Pierre gives him a look. “Your complaining is miserable.” 

Undeterred, Lando keeps up his protests. “We should do something fun. Pierre, don’t you know like a thousand people here? Invite someone over.”

Pierre snorts. “I don’t know all of Miami, Lando. Go to sleep or something.”

Esteban chuckles. “Could have fooled me. Didn’t you tag, like, a hundred people in your latest Instagram story?”

Pierre turns his head to glare at his teammate. They’re still supposed to be friends as of three or so months of being racing partners, but apparently that association doesn’t go so far as requiring Esteban to defend him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Charles shakes his head, grinning. “It’s the truth, let him speak. You have connections.”

Lando flings a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight pouring in through the windows. They’ve all been shut with the blinds pulled down, of course, but some warmth has a way of coming in regardless of what anyone wants. “Pierre’s just sociable like that. He could win over anybody. Or flirt with anybody.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Norris.”

Charles arches a brow. “What would he be jealous of, your losing streak? I saw you strike out trying to talk up Margot Robbie last time we were in Monaco, don’t lie to me.”

“That was different,” Pierre protests, “she’se literally married, what did you expect?”

Charles coughs pointedly. “Yet you flirted with her anyway. Anyways, don’t argue. You can’t flirt with everybody. Not successfully, at least.”

Pierre leans forward cautiously. “What does that mean?”

Charles laughs. “There’s one person you could never charm in a thousand years.”

Pierre sighs, answers Charles’ unspoken question in time with his friend. “Y/N L/N?”

“Y/N L/N,” Charles confirms, and the other three drivers break into identical grins.

Pierre can accept defeat on that front. Y/N L/N is the only female driver on the grid at the moment, and anyone can tell why she made it despite the odds mere moments after meeting her. She’s crazy intense, more dedicated to racing than even Max or Lewis. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if she could win a driver’s championship in the next year or two. Talk to her once and you’ll be stunned that she hasn’t done it yet.

Every time Pierre, or any other driver or spectator for that matter, has tried to chat her up, they always end up shut down faster than you can spin out on a slick track with the wrong tires. She doesn’t have time for any of them. The girl lives and breathes and dies for racing, she’s not going to let something like a boy get in her way.

This only makes Pierre more tempted to keep up with her, of course, but he learned a long time ago that was a lost cause. The only reason Y/N would ever look twice at him is if he was a place ahead of her during a race, and given her knack for overtakes, that doesn’t happen all that often.

Lando sits forward, and Pierre decides that he doesn’t like the gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. “Say, I’ve got a great idea to stave off boredom. Pierre, go date Y/N.”

Pierre almost chokes. “Are you insane? Just like that, go date her? How would that help you in any way?”

Lando spreads his hands. “If it would be so easy for you to flirt with anybody, how about you prove it? Surely Y/N isn’t so far out of your league. You’re both in the same line of work, at least you’ve got that going for you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to fight this. He may have a bit of a cocky streak, sure, but he’s a driver, who amongst them doesn’t? Just as he starts to get himself out of this, though, Esteban speaks up instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pierre couldn’t even come close. None of us can.” Esteban says it like a fact, and that’s all it takes for Pierre to change his tune.

“You know what?” He says, feeling his adrenaline start to kick in, “Sure I can.”

Charles’ eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious about girls,” Pierre says, causing a ripple of groans to cascade around the room, “This time I am, at least. I’ll win her over, no problem.”

Lando sits up. “If you’re really doing this, we’ve got to set some rules.”

“Such as?” Pierre dares him to continue.

Charles taps a thoughtful hand on his leg. “It has to be more than a one time thing. Just a single conversation could be a fluke or her feeling bad for you.”

Outraged, Pierre starts to fight that, but Lando picks up the thread of the conversation before he can cut it short. “That makes sense. We have to be sure that she’s actually in love with you. Like, get her to kiss you or something? And pics or it didn’t happen. We need proof.”

Pierre snickers, trying not to feel like control is slipping out of his hands with each passing second. “Anything else? Want me to name our firstborn child after you?”

That makes Esteban crack up. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? We’ll settle for being named godfather. All three of us collectively.”

Pierre shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Charles slaps him on the back. “You have to believe in yourself, Pierre. If you don’t, she’ll never fall for it.”

And so Pierre Gasly gets himself stuck in the con of a lifetime. Is it going to work? The odds are abysmal. Will he make it, though? Well, Pierre never likes to back down from a challenge. He’s not going to let this one get away from him so easily.

The sun is bright and the morning is tense in the paddock. You arrived early, earlier than most of the drivers, all so you could get a taste of what the track was like without anyone breathing down your neck. Some would call you a little too eager, others would say you’re plain stressed out and nothing more to it.

You’d give yourself a little more credit than that, though. You know exactly who you are and what you have to prove. The more time you give yourself to plan and acclimate, the less time there is for mistakes.

That isn’t to say that you ignore all the comments on your pre-race habits. You are well aware of your reputation, even proud of it. You wear it as a second skin, a racing suit, a livery specially designed to flaunt your own achievement. The whispers of those out and about in the world of motorsport follow you wherever you go, dogging your footsteps until you half expect to leave streams of words behind you instead of burned rubber.

That’s Y/N L/N. The one who only cares about the track? The one who lives and dies for racing? That’s the one. That’s the one.

There’s not much else to it. So what if you tend to be a little more intense than most? Being serious is the only method of survival available to you. You can be sweet and fun, play yourself off as the ditzy girl who only got in so her team could capitalize on brand deals, or you can be a woman without a feminine bone in her body, so far from girlish she chokes whenever she sees the color pink. Both are awful alternatives, so you choose the only one you can:  ignore every box they try to push you in until everyone else gives up. Let them whisper. At least they aren’t trying to change you anymore.

That’s how you’ve navigated the paddock up until now, the entirety of racing life as you know it. It’s worked out in your favor, or so you’d say, at least. You push yourself on and off track. You answer the unfair questions they throw at you. You solve the mysteries of why someone is taking an involvement in your affairs and come out on top of any possible rumors.

There are mysteries, though, and then there’s the latest one, which is why on Earth Pierre Gasly has taken to following you around the paddock. They all did, at the start; the drivers, the fans, the interviewers, even the team bosses, all staring at you like you were in a circus exhibition. A girl in motorsport? Couldn’t be. Yet it is. 

That’s mostly drifted off, though, the attention gone once they realized you weren’t interested in belonging to any of them. Most of them did it unintentionally, of course, and the few who got too close on purpose quickly learned they would get nothing from you. Pierre learned that himself, or so you thought. That doesn’t stop his attention from surging up again all of a sudden.

It’s been a solid few weeks of this behavior, and you’re still no closer to understanding it than you were at the start. If you were to put an initial date on this whole affair, you’d maybe say everything began back in Miami. All of a sudden, Pierre, who up until now had accepted that you weren’t interested in him even if he didn’t like that all too much, had decided to renew his affections once more. 

Where you had been content to walk briskly through the paddock by yourself, Pierre is suddenly a few feet behind you, always ready to offer a bottle of water when you need it or issue a joking comment when you seem in need of a laugh. He’s playing his cards carefully, always disappearing the moment you start to take his presence for granted, but why, you cannot tell. Everyone here has a motive. Surely Pierre Gasly has one as well.

You weren’t willing to trust him at first, ignoring him throughout the Miami race and all sessions at Imola. The only angle worth your while is your own, and maybe your constructor’s, too. Still, he stayed. That has to count for something.

And, when the end of a race finds you absolutely desolate after an engine failure, that starts to count a little more than it would have before. This race is early enough in the year that the DNF doesn’t have to sting too much, but all you can think about is how you just gave Max, Charles, and the rest of the title competitors the leg up they need to beat you out.

It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. You find some empty corner of the paddock where you can be alone and let your emptiness consume you. That was your plan, at least, but you’ve only been able to wallow in your own misery for about ten minutes or so before someone else joins you. The only other driver to fail to complete the necessary laps:  Pierre.

Pierre may not have had engine problems like you, but that doesn’t make him any luckier. George Russell spun wide on a turn and took out Pierre before righting himself again. George got off relatively easy for a crash, only needed to swap out some tires and his front wing, but Pierre took the brunt of it and ended up in the barriers. You heard him swearing, frustrated, on the radio after the race; the commentators loved that one, even if he didn’t.

That leaves both of you in the same undesirable position. Pierre arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you:  legs pulled up to your chest where you sit slumped against the wall, expression hopeless and all ambition gone for the moment.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, “I’m trying to hide from Sky Sports.”

You gesture vaguely at the open floor next to you. “Feel free. I'm not too thrilled about hearing from them, either.”

Pierre collapses in an untidy heap of limbs by your side, pulling at the collar of his race suit so he can unzip it down to his waist, leaving only the long sleeved shirt clinging to his skin. “At least engine failure is something you can’t control. Everyone’s been all over me trying to get me to admit that I should have seen George coming.”

You wrinkle your brow. “That wasn’t your fault. He braked late, it was obvious.”

Pierre glances over at you, clearly fighting a laugh. “Obvious, huh?”

You look away, wondering why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden. You don’t lie when it comes to racing, why bother? Thanks to the vast supplies of driver cameras and radio clips, there’s no point in glossing over what everyone knows to be true. Still, Pierre has a way of making that feel like something you should think twice about, like maybe not all of your attitudes towards drivers and their habits are things you should speak freely on. Maybe some things can be kept just to yourself. Maybe some drivers are beginning to verge beyond mere functionality as competitors.

“Everyone saw it,” you justify, “bad timing, that’s all. Not something you could control no matter how much space you gave him.”

Pierre nods solemnly. “The engine wasn’t your fault either, by the way. There was nothing you could have done to make it work again. You can’t limp through a problem like that.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you. “I tried, though.”

“I know,” Pierre says. They’re only two words, but for some reason they make you feel better than any of the minutes spent listening to your engineers’ speeches on how they would fix that issue by the next race.

Judging by the slight smile on Pierre’s face, he must know that too. When the seconds stretch into minutes and you never tell Pierre to go, that smile only deepens. The conversation leaves the race eventually, and you end up talking about silly things like movies you’d like to see or places you want to go but never have. You don’t know that you’ve ever spoken to another driver like this before. You don’t know that you could with anyone else.

You have to leave that corner eventually, called away by a team principal with apologies in order. Pierre departs around the same time, claiming that he can’t run from the interviewers forever. You steal one last glance at him over your shoulder as you go, and can’t help but notice the grin on his face. It’s broader than before, proud of something; what, you can’t tell. Despite the fact that both of you have failed out of the race, you still get the feeling that Pierre has won at something more than you today. 

Charles releases an Instagram post later that day of him, Pierre, and a few other drivers out at a club. You see it, and spend too much time wondering how long you have to wait after a photo is posted to like it so it’s not weird. What you don’t see is the conversation that happened later, how Pierre triumphantly told the rest that he was closer than they’d ever believe. You don’t see it, and the next time you see him, you stop to talk with a ready smile.

So it goes the next race, and the next one, and the next. Pierre is there. So are you. You end up finding him eventually; as time goes on, it’s not just Pierre seeking you out but the other way around, too. It’s even, both of you wanting each other just as often as the other. Eventually, you have to admit defeat to the voice in the back of your head telling you that you might have misread Pierre after all. Maybe he’s not just a horrific flirt. Maybe he can be a friend.

And, leaning over the railing of Pierre’s room in the Alpine motorhome so you can feel the gentle wind on your face while you stare out at the paddock, you think you would be alright if there was something more, too. You swore to yourself you’d never even think about another driver in that way, too scared of all your efforts to distinguish yourself from everyone’s expectations for female drivers being for naught, but it might be okay if it was Pierre. Pierre is different, nothing like the rest. It would be alright if it was him.

Pierre stands by your side, back straight and posture perfect as he surveys the mess of people milling about some floors below. “Nervous for the race?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering the question. “As much as anyone, I guess. I like this track, though. Should be good.”

Pierre nods, smiling at that. “And what about me? Am I going to be good, too?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need me to tell you that.” 

He doesn’t; this is one of Pierre’s best tracks. He should be up for a podium or at least high in the points if everything goes according to plan.

He just grins. “Indulge me.”

You give him a pointed stare, then head back into the room. “You’re an ass.”

Pierre follows. “You love me, though.”

A pause. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He asks, unable to disguise a slight shine of surprise from entering his eyes, like despite all the luck he’d had recently, Pierre still didn’t think he would get this far.

You lift your shoulder in a half-shrug, unwilling to commit to anything further. You feel as if you’re standing on a lake frozen over, aware that any wrong move could shatter the ice beneath your feet.

Pierre moves towards the door, and for one horrified moment you think he’s actually going to leave right then and there before you realize he’s closing it instead. He turns back once he’s sure no passersby can see you, and then he’s kissing you and you can’t worry about anything else. Not even the race. Not even the threat that this might send you spiraling until you’re so lost on him that you won’t be able to think straight for the rest of your life.

He leans back at last, smiling at you with the same smile you think you saw on a podium on Monza when he first won a race in F1. “We could have done that earlier,” he whispers, not daring to disturb the quiet victory of the room.

“We could have,” you answer him. Every driver hates losing time. This is no exception.

Your head is light with the most wonderful feeling, and then over Pierre’s shoulder you see something strange. He left the door open. Cracked halfway, even though this door is notorious for never staying open right. He would have had to try to keep it like this. He would have wanted it to be that way for a reason.

Pierre’s phone vibrates and he grimaces, murmuring something about having to talk to one of his engineers before slipping out of the room. He kisses you one last time before he leaves, a quiet touch pressed to your cheek. He takes great care to ensure that you do not see the message blinking up from his screen, and when he goes, you notice that he does not have to turn the knob, only pull open an already ajar door.

Something is wrong. The longer you stand there, alone in Pierre’s room, the more you start to think, and what you think about is not good at all. The timing of the text message. The look on his face when he left. Nothing is adding up.

Voices drift to you down the hall as you stand there wondering, Pierre’s among them. You walk slowly forward, unable to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach like something is about to go very, very poorly. You usually trust your instincts. As it turns out, they won’t be wrong now.

Pierre is standing in a meeting room down the hall, talking in hushed voices to a few other drivers. As you draw closer, you recognize them. Charles, closest; Lando, eyes wide; Esteban, even, staring in disbelief. All three are telling Pierre replications of the same sentiment, which is that they cannot believe he actually managed to do it.

Get you to fall in love with him, they mean. Fulfill the dare, they explain. Like they all agreed a few months ago. Back in Miami, the three of them dared Pierre to get you to fall for him, and like the overconfident, thrill seeking diehard flirt that he is, Pierre agreed.

Worse:  he did it successfully. You know, you had been wondering if this was too good to be true. Looks like it was. All that time you were letting Pierre into your heart, and he was manipulating you into falling in love. How pathetic. How incredibly soul-destroying.

The four drivers look up when you shut the door to the meeting room behind you. Pierre is the first one to notice it’s you, and you don’t ever think you’ll forget the look on his face when he realizes that you know the truth. His entire expression contorts with horror and his hands rise by his sides, trying to force your heart to stay unbroken. Pity it’s too late for that.

“Y/N–” he begins, a little too loud, a little too desperate, “wait– it’s not what it sounds like–”

“Actually,” you say coolly, “I believe that it is. You three dared Pierre to get me to fall in love with him? That’s exactly what it is, right?”

It’s not a question. Charles, Lando, and Esteban have realized you’re here, too, and they wear similar shades of Pierre’s alarm. Charles opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to explain himself, but you cut him off.

“Don’t even try. I know what you did, I don’t want to hear your terrible reasoning for why you thought this was okay. I’m going to go back to my motorhome and we are never going to speak of this again. Don’t talk to me in the paddock. Don’t talk to me at all unless we’re in a media event and you have to. I never want to speak to any of you.”

Lando interrupts, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Y/N, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? It was just a prank, that’s all. Just a laugh.”

Pierre looks like he’s fighting back deep irritation at that. You just arch one brow. “Just a prank to humiliate me? You disgust me. All of you.”

You let that silence their arguments and leave the room. You think Pierre might have tried to follow you out, but Charles blocks him. You hear the Monegasque’s voice spilling out into the hall as you leave, telling Pierre not to try it. She obviously doesn’t want to see any of us anymore, mate. Best to leave it be.

You wish it was that easy for you. It takes everything in you to make it to your private room in your team’s motorhome and lock the door behind you before the tears finally come flooding out. You’d like nothing more than to fly home and spend the next several days and nights comatose in your bed, but, as if things weren’t bad as is, there’s still a race tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours.

The lights go out, the chequered flag waves some time later. You’re not entirely aware of what happened in that race, nor of how you were able to drag yourself out of your room and back to the starting grid, but you blink once and you’re on the podium, so evidently everything worked out. You watch the clips later, the commentators are all in shock. They haven’t seen you race so aggressively in years. It bordered on cruelty.

Pierre, by contrast, had his worst race in months. It seemed like he was hardly in charge at all, more like the car was controlling him. He wasn’t even in the points. No one can understand it. You refuse to think about it any longer.

Another race weekend comes and goes. The interviewers are confused– wasn’t it just last week that you seemed so much happier than you are now? You’re surly in press conferences, answering questions in a clipped and emotionless tone. They’d say you were totally checked out were it not for the fact that you’re still getting good results.

They don’t know everything, of course, but some of the more eagle-eyed reporters are starting to put the pieces together. What’s up with you and Pierre Gasly? Someone asks one day, Weren’t you two good friends recently?

We’re drivers, you reply, Aren’t we all used to pretending things are better than they are?

When you see Pierre after that press conference, he looks dizzy, totally unsteady on his own feet. You don’t meet his eyes. You’re not sure that it’s guilt, but it feels something like that anyway. Everything is wrong.

Pierre is asked about it later, of course, and he’s a little more candid than you were. He never names names, just says that things happen sometimes, things he wishes he could take back. Pierre has to take a moment to get himself together after that to answer the next question, a fantastic display of emotion. How charming of him to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s just ripped yours out of your chest.

The pattern repeats the next few weeks. Pierre, Charles, Lando, and Esteban try to talk to you on multiple occasions, but you brush them off with nothing more than a well-placed glare and some good avoidance tactics. Even then, you should have known that your cold shoulder couldn’t last forever.

Of course it would be Charles who gets you at last– if there’s anyone on this entire damned grid who could get why you are the way you are, it would be him. Il Predestinato knows what it’s like to have the entire world expecting something of you, and he doesn’t lie easy because of it. Charles finds you late as the sun is setting and won’t let you avoid him forever, even though you try.

At last, you give up and stop making him chase you around the paddock. You’re sitting at a table outside your motorhome, shaded by a sunbleached umbrella and sipping at a bottle of ice water long since turned lukewarm.

“He regrets it, you know,” Charles says by way of introduction.

You refuse to raise your eyes from your intense study of the bottle’s printed plastic label. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than sending his best friend to talk for him, then.”

Charles scoffs. “Oh, come on. You know you haven’t let him get close enough for that.”

Your water bottle receives a very irate glare. “Wonder why that would be.”

Charles sighs. “We were wrong, we all know that. It was a stupid thing to suggest and even more stupid to keep it up that long.”

You look at him at last, anger gone and replaced by mere disappointment. From the way Charles shifts in his seat opposite you, you think that might be an even worse threat for him to face. “Then why did you keep it going? If you knew it was so wrong? Pierre was committed to your prank for weeks. Why didn’t any of you call it quits?”

“He didn’t want to,” Charles admits, “not because of the dare, because he liked being around you. Did you know he was mad at us the day you caught us? He didn’t want us anywhere near that room. Told me privately it’s because he wanted the first kiss for himself, not for anything related to the dare.”

That makes you go silent. The fan whirs overhead, pushing your thoughts around in slow circles somewhere above you. “That makes no sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Charles grumbles, “Happened, though. Regardless of what he thought at the start, Pierre doesn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.”

You turn towards him. “Is that supposed to make how he felt at the start okay somehow?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, but it makes the ending better, I think.”

He’s right. You lean back against your seat, contemplative. Charles takes this as his cue to leave. He pauses once before he’s out of range, then calls something else back to you. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you that, by the way.”

You can’t fight a laugh. “I won’t tell a soul you’re on my side.”

He smiles at that. You’ve missed him, you realize, him and the rest. You thought distance would save you from feeling quite so badly about all of this, but it just cut you off from your best support. Charles disappears into the crowd, a bright flare of red in a multitude of shifting shades, and for the first time since that treacherous discovery, you start to wonder what it would feel like to forgive.

Pierre is in an awful state. So Esteban has told him about a thousand and one times, at least, each utterance delivered with the same derisive snort. Pierre knows he’s supposed to bounce back from this, pretend it was all just a prank, but he’s known better for months now. It might have been a prank the first day, even the first week, but not after that.

Here is the problem:  Pierre, in all his cocky eagerness to show his friends up, failed to consider that Y/N might be able to charm him as well. He might have gone a little overboard in his attempts to make her fall in love with him, perhaps even to the point where he fell in love instead. He isn’t sure when he first realized he had feelings for her, but Pierre is more than certain it was before Y/N discovered she felt the same way.

What a ruin to his reputation. Pierre hadn’t minded, though, not when they were still on speaking terms. He liked the way they could talk for hours, how Y/N’s guard slipped when she started to trust him. She had a way of smiling when she was sure no one was about to stab her in the back. Pierre misses that. He’s sure he’ll never see it again.

Unable to stand Esteban’s dismissive attitude anymore, Pierre picks himself up from where he’d been wallowing in misery on the floor of the Alpine motorhome. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, only that it needs to be somewhere without a single soul in sight. Still, when he passes aimlessly through the halls and almost runs into another driver, he supposes he should take it as a testament to his distracted mind that he doesn’t realize it’s Y/N until they’re already standing still and staring at each other.

Too late, Pierre remembers she hates him. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles an apology, ready to keep moving. She told him not to speak to her anymore; Pierre can hardly fault her for that, and he won’t use his presence as a weapon if that’s the one that will cut her the deepest.

He is surprised, then, when Y/N reaches out to stop him before he can get too much farther. Pierre looks at her hand locked around his, then back up at her.

“Wait,” she says, “I want to talk to you.”

“I thought that wasn’t happening anymore,” Pierre says. It occurs to him that it probably sounds cold, but she speaks before he can try to explain what he meant.

“Things have changed,” she says.

That’s enough to convince him to stay, if not for the feeling of her fingers still on his than anything else. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting from him to the occasional Alpine aide walking down the halls, and to save her, Pierre jerks his head towards a door down the hall.

“There’s an empty room to the left, we can talk there.”

A brief flash of relief crosses her face, and Y/N lets Pierre lead her over to the room. He leaves the door open to give her an easy escape, but she closes it after her anyway. No onlookers. Maybe that’s for the best.

Y/N sits down in one of the chairs, legs crossed, arms folded. She may be here with him after so long, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing up all her walls, even the physical ones. It hurts to remember how easy it had been to be with her that last day. Pierre plays those moments on repeat in his head– the balcony, the breeze, the words, the kiss. He can never stop the later scene from following, how her demeanor had changed when she realized the truth. He didn’t think he could hurt one person that badly. He was wrong.

She’s still silent, so Pierre assumes it’s on him to start talking. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I know that’s not enough, but it’s true. I was stupid. I should have told you before–”

Regret clogs up his throat and he can’t choke out a single syllable more. Y/N looks suspicious. “Before the kiss?”

“Before anything,” Pierre clarifies, “when we were talking at the beginning. I never should have let it get so far. Doesn’t mean I minded when it did,” he remarks half to himself, “but I should have done it on my own terms.”

When he dares look up at Y/N again, he swears she seems slightly more open, but that could just be his wishful thinking. “Do you mean what you said in the interview?” She asks suddenly, “Do you wish you could take it back?”

“Yes,” Pierre says in a rush, “I want a do over. I want to do it right. I would have done all of it without ever talking to Lando or Esteban or Charles first. I would have done it for me.” His voice is quiet. “I would have loved you without making it a lie.”

Y/N’s eyes are wide, but she isn’t afraid or angry. “Second chances come around more often than you’d think,” she whispers.

“Even for me?” Pierre asks.

She nods once. “Even for you.”

They’re both on the podium that day. His race engineers can’t explain why Pierre’s luck has suddenly had this tremendous turnaround. He can. She can, too. Sometimes your heart likes getting in the way if it knows you’re doing something wrong. It’s a good thing, then, that he’s finally doing something right.

She’s waiting for him once the interviews are over. They’re both exhausted, half drunk on the champagne in the air and wholly pleased with themselves. The sun goes down, and Pierre is happy. It is just as easy as that.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[sminiac]

⋆ Kim Jongseob + Reader

💌 — Guess who still hasn’t slept, and who is also thinking about how sweet Bf!Jongseob would be because I am SICK. ILL. from the lack of Jseob content.

Bf!Jongseob who never fails to capture the most precious moments with his camera: where you had your first kiss, first date, first sleepover, first meal together, everything. He’d make a scrapbook for said photos, even sneaking in receipts from the places you two have visited, he’d write the cutest little notes beside the tangible memories that made it all the more visceral for him, and he’d only address them to himself so he wouldn’t hold back on his thoughts about how cute you are, how nice you smelled that day, how pretty your outfit was, if he noticed other guys looking at you, a funny joke you told, ugh he’s so🫠 he’d tell you that the added depth to the seemingly uninteresting pictures was what made it worthy of owning a spot in the book, and although you can’t quite seem to grasp the emotional connection he has to a picture of Soul captured jumping mid air, you agree anyways.

Bf!Jongseob who is absolutely the type to have you posted on every social media account he owns, and it’s not just one or two you make an appearance in, no. It’s pretty much every post, profile picture, anything, because he’s also so mygirlfriendmygirlfriend!! Since we’re on the topic of social media let me just say he’d always come in clutch for your birthday, like he’s pulling out the cutest most flattering pictures to ever exist of you:,) the sweetest paragraph written too. He’s so adorable my chest is going to collapse.

Bf!Jongseob who often looks to you if he’s worried his stage makeup is smudged or if his hair is out of place, he’d be so still while asking you to fix something, his hands steady at your hips, letting you do your thing, he’d also keep your brain busy with his opinions about their setlist, or a place he wants to check out before the two of you return to the hotel for the night, or a snack he’s seen that recently became popular online that he’s been wanting to try, his hand placement is just so boyfriend😞 he’s so boyfriend, speaks so calmly to you despite you trying to work with him as quick as possible so that he can return to the stage, although most of the time it’s just an excuse to see you, to get a quick kiss and to hear the comforting sound of your voice 🫠🫠

Bf!Jongseob who never forgets your good luck handshake before he’s being sent out to perform, “But just one more,” he’d rush, trying to steal another kiss before you have the chance to refuse, which is exactly why you didn’t want to have a kiss seal off the pre-show ritual, because it’s never just ‘one more’ which results in him being unprepared and rushing off at the last second. “Seob anymore and I’ll mess up your face.” “Good. Just one. Please! And I’ll go.” “This is your job??? you have to go anyway.”

Bf!Jongseob who often has you sat comfortably between his legs, back against his chest as he plays whatever video game he’s been fixated on recently, sooooo boyfriend I’m telling you!!!! If you aren’t familiar with the game he’s offering to show you the basics, if you end up getting frustrated he’ll laugh, of course, but he’ll always kiss the side of your head as his hands slip over yours to guide you through the process, “Yeah, like that, see you’re getting it, don’t be so hard on yourself, dummy.”

Bf!Jongseob who personally had a photocard of you made just so he can hang the small picture of you off of his bag beside his own!

Bf!Jongseob who swears you’ve had him retell every detail possible about ‘Harry Potter’ more than enough times, yet whenever he’s in another country you’re always: “Seob, what happens next?” over the phone and he can’t stand how cutely you ask, so his sworn resolve to not staying up all night diving deep into canon events quickly crumbles like compact sand hitting water, it slips through his fingers as if it never existed, but Jiung’s starting to get a little tired of it, especially being Seob’s roommate for this stop.

RRRRRRR bf!Jseob bf!Jseob bf!Jseob thank yew🙏❕❕❕

[penkura]

I feel like I annoy you. I am so sorry if i do and feel free to ignore it.

After you wrote feverdream so beautifully I was so overwhelmed. (Ofc i do love all of your work)

Tbh Penguin with a dominant side lives free in my head. Especially if he maybe isnt too fond of reader during a miscommunication (or other scenarios). I am weak for an enemy to lover trope. Even so we know that our boy is mostly totally sweet and most likely to become friends with everyone in an instant.

So if you are interested in it or find inspiration I would love to see the result.

Otherwise if you prefer pure fluff. It would surely be funny for either Penguin or Law tonget hit by a truth fruit kinda power. So they have to be completely honest for a short period of time and i can totally see them going to hide so they cant spell their true feelings towards you.

Either way have a fantastic day and i sure hope work will treat you good and you can take a break soon ❤️

Since you've been doing the Truth Truth Fruit posts, I'll do the first prompt! 👀 I got an idea that I hope is to your liking, and everyone else's of course!

More Penguin prompts please I love him sm

Penguin doesn’t get you at all.

He’s tried, every day since you joined, to be nice and accommodating, he tries to include you in group card games, attempts to help you with whatever chores you’re assigned, and stays up to sit with you on night watches. The problem, though, is you, how you don’t even talk to him when he tries to speak to you or anything really. If he calls for you, you stare at him with your eyes slightly wide, which confuses him greatly. If he has something for you or Law needs you, all you do is nod in response and leave, not even thanking him.

What the hell is your problem, what could he have done to make you act so coldly towards him? He just wants to be your friend, even when Shachi tries to suggest it’s more than that is what Penguin wants, but he just rolls his eyes at his lifelong friend. There are zero ulterior motives, he’s just trying to be nice and a good crewmate, that’s all it is.

If only you would talk to him, let him prove he’s not a bad person, but he’s just so frustrated at this point that he’s given up, Penguin has started to ignore you just the same as you’ve done to him. He only speaks to you now if Law needs something from you, he doesn’t even ask you to join in cards night or to go with him and Shachi into towns anymore. If you do hang out with everyone on game nights, you’re more inclined to sit off to the side with Law and watch everyone, mostly talking to your captain.

Penguin has mostly given up, you won’t talk to him or anything. You must dislike him, that’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it? Yeah, that’s it. You don’t like him. He can’t make you like him, so he won’t try anymore, he won’t bother. He stops talking to you entirely, even if someone else needs you. He just gets Shachi or Ikkaku to talk to you.

It does annoy your crewmates, to see the two of you at odds and not wanting to talk to each other for…what was the reason again? Shachi isn’t sure, but he’s tired of it just like the rest of them.

It's why he brings up the idea of leading you and Penguin into one of the supply closets, separately, before locking you both in and setting someone as guard to prevent anyone from letting you out until you’ve talked about things. He’s lucky that your crewmates are willing to help, Clione easily leads you in and the makes an excuse that he needs to ask Law something. In reality he went to get Penguin with the same excuse of needing to look for something, pushing the older man into the closet and causing him to nearly knock you over, before the door is pulled closed and locked from the outside. Penguin really tried to open it, for several minutes, before he sighed and gave up. You’d already decided to sit in a corner and let him be, even while he kicks an empty bucket out of frustration.

“Stupid, all of them.” Penguin sighs and sits across from you the best he can, though it’s still close enough that your shoes are touching.

You don’t say anything, you’re confused why you and Penguin have been locked in the supply closet. You know he doesn’t like you, you’ve known from the start, believing he’s always pretending to be nice when he invites you for games and the like. You were used to that, from men and women, but you’d come to trust Ikkaku and Clione more than anyone. Shachi was working his way into your circle, but you felt like Penguin was just messing with you all the time, even when your crewmates swore he wasn’t like that and he really did want to be your friend. It’s hard for you to believe that, even harder to accept it despite your growing feelings for Penguin.

Part of you wonders what you did to develop a crush on someone who doesn’t even talk to you anymore.

“…any idea why they locked us in here?”

Penguin shrugs, ignoring the fact this is the first time he’s heard your voice in the last few months you’ve been with them.

“Probably trying to make us talk or something. Bet Shachi came up with it.” Another sigh whole he takes off his hat for a moment to brush his hair back, barely taking note of how your eyes widen a little and you look more nervous, “Just cause we’re on the same crew doesn’t me have to like each other…”

“Oh,” your shoulders drop a bit but you nod, you figured he didn’t like you after all, “Yeah…I guess so…”

Odd, he didn’t think you’d sound so disappointed. If you two are locked in here though, he might as well try some small talk. There’s nothing else to do unless you want to make a supplies list.

“Can I ask you something?” Penguin has to think of how to word it when you nod, even as you keep your eyes off him, “Why don’t you talk to me?”

It takes you a few minutes to come up with a response, Penguin thinks you’re not to answer so he doesn’t hold his breath for one. It stands to reason, you don’t talk to him normally anyway.

“My last crew, well, just a couple of them, they’d invite me to do stuff then go without me or tell me it was a joke,” you sigh a little while Penguin watches you, seeming to understand a little more, “I guess I just let that get to me when you started being so friendly, I was expecting the same things. I should—”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I wanted to be friends with you.”

“Shachi told me that but I didn’t believe him…I’m sorry, I should’ve trusted that you weren’t like them.”

“…I probably should’ve taken things slow, sorry.”

You both stay quiet for a bit after that, not sure what else to say or talk about. It feels so awkward, you hate this kind of forced small talk. Penguin eventually stands up, holding his hand out to help you up, and not letting go after you’re on your feet, giving you a slight smile.

“Let’s start over, yeah? We’ll pretend the last few months didn’t happen, and work out a friendship together.”

“I think I’d like that, Penguin.”

You two will move past this, you’ll become real friends and spend more time together, especially after Shachi lets you out of the closet and Penguin chases him down for it, threatening to lock his friend in their next. The next time Penguin invites you to play cards with everyone, you join and end up beating him during a far too long game of poker. He’s shocked but the grin on your face makes his heart feel weird, and he can’t help the smile that comes across his own face.

Man…maybe Shachi was right and there is more here…