#and THAT would be what breaks the dam

[transvampireboyfriend]

"whatever, Steve. kiss me about it."

[yurious-george]

hatchling in fanfic: constantly dying and being the only one who knows the truth is so traumatic :( angst angst

hatchling in canon: my mission parameters are “have fun out there” and ive got infinite retries baby!!!!!!!!! (slingshots themselves into the sun repeatedly)

[the-physicality]

c*thy and chr*stie are the same in that they will both get labeled "successful" for what happened under their "leadership" but at the end of the day all the good things that happened happened in spite of them.

[barkingbarghest]

Man something I have not stopped thinking about is how part of why Midst podcast is so mind bogglingly good to me is because of how Third Person makes it. The whole thing is basically them just making up a story in beats and arcs ahead of time, and then RPing individual scenes.

They thought about what kinds of narratives sounded compelling, what ideas they wanted to see in the world and/or story, and how they wanted the story to unfold… but they didn't write scripts. Instead, they rolled up with maybe like an index card of story beats and scene summaries and then started recording [tangent: they shared the outline of the first episode and it's hilarious it's like 5 bullet points very cool stuff].

WHICH MEANS that all the dialogue is improved which makes me go [cartoon foghorn mallet-bonking cockle-doodle-doo] because some of the dialogue is [cartoon cymbals crashing cat yowl stock sounds of a crowd cheering]! Like I don't know how else to say this but the words that they are saying makes me feel like my brain is getting vaporized.

[eclipseshotel]

I feel like I need to just break down and ugly cry. Sob until it aches to breathe and my eyes swell. Wail until my voice is lost and there’s nothing left…

[heirscrchd]

jet 🤝 azula

being so traumatized that your actions over time become far more radical than your friends can handle and so end up being abandoned/betrayed by them

[s0dium]

Needy

Pervert!Yuuta x Reader

Synopsis: Yuuta has avoided the touch of women for years due to having a homicidal jealous curse attached to him. Hell, he has even avoided touching himself. But something happens that makes him break

Warning: Male masturbation, pillow humping, edging, mentions of breeding, pining

Pt.2

~

Having a homicidal jealous curse attached to you 24/7 that threatens to murder any woman that comes close to you, changes a man.

In Yuuta's case that meant that sex was out of the question. In fact, everything involving the slightest bit of physical intimacy was out of the question. Handshake? Yuuta would rather not risk it. Hugging? Sure if you wanted to get your head chopped off. Even when Yuuta joined Jujutsu High and became able to control Rika better, his ways of avoiding women had already been so ingrained into him, that any kind of intimacy was just foreign to him.

This didn't mean the Yuuta didn't think about it. He even indulged in the small things, like replaying the sex scene in a movie or eying the women in Todo's magazines he would bring on occasion. But that wasn't enough to quell the thrumming in his head or the whisper in the back of his mind craving more. Yuuta truly thought he could ignore it all though, that is, until he met you.

At first, it was easy for him to treat you as nothing more than a friend, a classmate. He could ignore how peculiarly beautiful and kind you were. He could brush off how your witty remarks during tough missions always made him laugh, and how the light, airy giggles that escaped your mouth when Yuuta did something unintentionally funny made butterflies swarm in his stomach. Then summer rolled around, and you started wearing more revealing clothes—short skirts and tights instead of long pants, which were apparently "easier to train in" you told him.

And it was only when you innocently bent over to pick something up one afternoon, when Yuuta accidentally caught a glimpse of your white underwear that dug into the fat of your plump butt, that the dam finally broke. When you turned around to bashfully apologize for accidentally flashing him, Yuuta was already gone. Unbeknownst to you, he had fled to his dorm room, struggling to hide his painfully hard dick in his pants.

Yuuta barely makes it to his bed before he is pulling down his black uniform pants and wrapping a shaky hand around his thick cock. He's not an idiot, he knows how to jack off, but there is something different right now. When in the past the few times he touched himself was to quickly get rid of arousal, now Yuuta finds himself yearning for something more.

He slowly drags his hand down his shaft and the satisfaction is immediate: just one stroke sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through his entire body. The pleasure is mind-numbing, and just a taste of it has him yearning for more.

“Oh fuh-“ Yuuta's voice comes out breathless. He screws his eyes shut and darts a tongue across his lips to wet them. Almost immediately his mind wonders back to you, how delicious your ass looked, how beautiful you are, how beautiful you would be with your lips wrapped around his dick. How would your breasts feel in his palm? What would your face look like if he tweaked and sucked on your nipples? God, what would your pussy feel like.

Pap pap. Yuuta was starting to create a semi fast rhythm, white precum collecting in the spaces of his fingers as he furiously glided his tight grip up and down his dick. He doesn't just want to think about you; he wants to obsess over you. He doesn't just want to feel pleasure; he wants to drown in it. No, he wants to drown in you.

He's practically panting right now imaging himself inside you. If he felt good right now, how good would the real thing be? Oh he bet the squeeze around his dick would be delicious, he can practically hear you whining his name. Yuuta's legs trembled as his hand gilded over his overstimulated red tip and down to his heavy balls. Jesus this was good, so good, he needed more, Yuuta needed more friction because god if he couldn't have your pussy right now he at least needed to pretend.

Through heavy pleasure-filled lidded eyes, he glanced to the pillow next time him.

He was becoming greedy.

Fuck it.

Without much of a thought, Yuuta grabbed the pillow, folded it in half, laid on his side, hastily put his dick between the white cloth, and started to thrust. The friction is delicious. It makes his toes curl and desperately thrusts his hips into the soft pillow.

“Mmmm,  mmm mhm” he whimpers. Your name is on the tip of his tongue, but he can barely speak so much as think. There’s a tingly warm feeling building in his stomach, the pleasure is overtaking him. What would you think if you could see him like this? Would you call him a pervert or maybe would you help him? Oh, what a dream that would be, your soft hands wrapped around him, oh he bet that you could make him feel better than this pillow ever could.

“Ah-Ah Y/n please….” The thought of you is consuming him, you don’t know it but you are giving him the best pleasure he has ever experienced in his life. Yuutas thrusts are becoming frantic, desperate, he could taste his release on the tip of his tongue. His black hair is starting to stick to his forehead from the sweat and he realized he should have taken off his white uniform coat because it was getting so hot. He was so close, so close to cumming, he hates how this pillow isnt you, isn't your pussy, after this, he promises to himself that he won't ignore you or your beauty anymore, he’ll obsess over you, kiss the ground you walk on, he’ll take care of you so good and -and oh, oh my god, he wants to breed you, fill you with cum-

“Ah-ahhh~”

Yuuta’s hips stutter into the pillow and thick ropes of cum coat the fabric. The pleasure makes his legs and mind go numb and he’s left panting, whimpering from the after shocks.

No, after this Yuuta will never avoid you again.

[monstersflashlight]

Ohhh, maybe something with sugar daddy minotaur? Started with money end on the bed then the minotaur get so clingy with us, claim to be more then sugar daddy because our squirt 🥺

I feel so hot request something like this ahhh-

Minotaur daddy

Minotaur x fem!reader || daddy kink, squirting, praise kink, oral sex, super fluffy fluff

When he reached to you through your social media to be your daddy, you thought it was a stupid bot once again, but you answered to see what kind of crazy offer he had to give you. It was funny at first, just checking if he was a bot. But in less than thirty minutes there was an amazing sum in your bank account and you had a date and a contract set with the most handsome minotaur you’ve ever met.

Your first date was amazing, soft and quiet and he indulged you in everything you liked. You fell a tiny bit in love with him that day, but your relationship was purely transactional. Or so you thought.

You fooled around a couple times, but he never got his pants down. He pleasured you over and over, but never taking care of himself. He insisted it was all for you, that you were the focus of that relationship, money or not. So it worked great for you, you got his soft big tongue ravishing your pussy and money for it. You were completely fine with it…

But the reality is that you weren’t. Not at all. You wanted more, so much more. He gave you the best orgasms of your life, allowed you to pay for your living and indulged on your stupid craving. He took you out, dressed you with fancy clothes and paraded you around like the most precious thing he had. And that was great. But you wanted more, so much more. You wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you into oblivion. You wanted him to want you… But you didn’t know how to tell him that. How to act on your feelings. You didn’t even know if he wanted you that way.

The only thing you knew is that he fucking loved eating you out until you were a mess.

You were whiting against the sheets of his fancy penthouse. “Please, daddy…” You came three times already, your pussy so tender and overstimulated you didn’t know if you could go more.

“One more, babe. Gimme one more and I’ll stop,” he always promised that. He always said he wanted one more and you ended up soaking his face and clenching so hard on his fingers he would whine and tell you how fucking amazing your pussy was.

“I don’t know if I can,” you told him. Someplace inside of you, you knew there was at least one more inside of you, but it felt different this time.

He always ate you out incredibly well, but for some reason the combination of his fingers and his rough tongue were hitting something different inside of you. It was like you were on the edge of the most amazing thing was at arm reach but you couldn’t get to it. Not quite. Not yet. Your need to be a good girl was above your need for him to stop.

“Of course you can, babe. Do it for me. Come for daddy one more time,” he coached. His words felt hot and bothered against your pussy, his lips engulfing half of your pussy at once, lapping and sucking as he pressed against your G-spot over and over. His clever fingers giving your insides a massage that was driving you into insanity.

But you didn’t know if you could do it. It was so close but so far away at the same time. You grabbed his horns and rose your hips to meet his eager tongue once again, trying to reach that part of you that wanted to break under him, that part of you that wanted to be pliant, perfect for him. He chuckled at your eagerness and resumed his activities, his big tongue playing with your clit softly but intently, the way you liked. His fingers inside of you rubbing circles in the most awesome way. Your eyes were closed as you panted, pulling at his horns until he whimpered against your flesh, making you feel even better.

And then you felt something inside of you break down, like he destroyed some kind of dam and you were exploding into a million pieces.

You squirted for the first time ever over his surprised face as he pulled his face back but kept rubbing over your G-spot. You came, and came, and came until you felt you were losing your mind and your brain was melting inside your head. It was the most extreme feeling you’ve ever felt and the most amazing, too.

When you came down, still panting, he pulled you to him, your body wrapped around his as he caressed your naked back. “You did amazing, pretty girl. So good for your daddy.” You blushed at his words, like you always did. There was something special about him praising you, you never thought you had a praise kink, but he helped you discover a lot of things about yourself… Like you could squirt.

“I didn’t know I could do that, daddy,” you confessed. You tried not to sound too shy, but the fact that his furry face was still damp with your release and he was smiling at you like you held the light of the universe was doing things to your insides.

“You did great, you are perfect. My perfect pretty girl,” he caressed your face and pulled you up. Your mouths collided into a frantic kiss that left you breathless. He parted ways and said: “I think I’m going to keep you,” he whispered, making you shiver and look at him confused.

“What?” That couldn’t mean what you thought it meant. Right?

“I want you to be more than my sugar baby,” he responded, your heart doing crazy shit inside your chest as the butterflies inside your stomach flew around frantically.

“What are you saying? Do you want… more?” You asked, wanting to be sure of it.

“Of course I want more. I didn’t know how to say it because I thought you wouldn’t want an old bull like me. But you coming like that, for me… That was too much, babe. I need you like I need air. And I would need a repetition of that at least once a day for the rest of our lives. I… I love you.” The softness in his tone mixed with the way he was looking at you, your heart was beating like crazy in your chest and you thought you were about to implode with happiness.

“Are you for real, don’t joke with me. Because I love being your sugar baby but I kind of… love you, too,” you confessed. The happiness in his eyes was answer enough. You launched for his mouth, and you felt like everything was right with the world again. Like there was hope in the future. “But I’m still going to want pretty dresses,” you joked when you broke apart.

“Of course, pretty girl. Everything you want.” You smiled down at him and kissed him again until your bodies were melting into one.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

[rafecameroninterlude]

what if rafe found kook!sweetheart!reader’s girl blog? omg and he see’s some nsfw reblogs…

warnings: use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (just once), reader is just a 🎀 girl 🎀, 18+ links

a/n: i think i would die if this really happened omg

“i still think i should join you in the shower..” you looked up at rafe’s reflection from your vanity, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “we both know how that’ll end.” you laughed, adjusting your robe before twisting the door knob of your bathroom. “i’ll be right out.” rafe watched as you closed the door behind you, collapsing onto your bed with a sigh. he wanted nothing more than to get you underneath your sheets and, hopefully, have his head between your thighs.

just as he felt himself growing hard at the thought of you gasping his name, he heard your phone ding!

thinking nothing of it, he glanced at the device on your nightstand, a few more notifications coming in. his eyebrows knitted in confusion. you always had your phone silenced at this time of night. fingertips itching to check what was making your phone go off, he muttered a quick ‘fuck it.’ before grabbing the dammed thing. “tumblr?” he narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar app icon.

[11:41 PM] lanasweetheart liked your post: “something about a manly man getting the bestest sleep in a pink hyperfeminine bed (he’s so babygirl 🎀)”

rafe clicked the notif, a ‘what the fuck?’ falling from his lips when a picture of him sleeping next to you lit up the screen. tapping on the profile icon, rafe was in for a surprise when all your posts were now at the tips of his fingers. “three thousand notes?” he was in disbelief that a photo of the back of his head peeking out of your pink comforter had gotten so much traction. “girls really go crazy over that shit?” he laughed, full on scrolling now.

rafe thought it was cute that all your posts consisted of photo dumps of your nights out with your girlfriends, cute selfies with freshly done makeup, nail pics, some rant posts here and there about drama he already had the full scoop on, but then he came across a tag that said ‘୨ৎ thinking thoughts’ that completely flipped his brain inside out.

bf looked so dilfy today, should i ask him for babies?

“you totally should.” he whispered to himself, tongue running across his bottom lip as he kept reading. the next post was a reblog.

gorgeous gorgeous girls pout and whine and whimper instead of using words

“yeah, you do.” rafe could feel heat starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. you were always so sweet and graceful, your boyfriend couldn’t help but feel a smidge of jealousy that an app got to see this side of you before he did.

i just want him to break me sometimes. slap me, choke me, degrade me.. rough me up a little bit that’s all :(

“holy shit.” he cleared his throat, his cock now straining against the denim material of his jeans. he would’ve happily done all of that for you if you asked, but then again maybe that was the problem. you shouldn’t have to. apart of rafe felt bad for invading your privacy like this, but man was he glad that he did.

love when daddy picks out my lingerie for the night <3

rafe’s jaw was on the ground. ‘daddy’???? oh, you were so going to get it. “what are you doing?” rafe jumped at the sound of your voice, having not heard the water to the shower stop. you were in nothing but a robe, the scent of your strawberry shampoo filling up his senses. “what am i doing?” he repeated your question, getting up as he placed your phone back on your nightstand.

“yeah.. did i get a text message or something?” your heart started pounding in your ears as you watched rafe’s eyes grow dark. “no. no text message. ‘was just looking through your filthy tumblr account.” you blinked, chest rising and falling as your blood ran cold. “oh?” you backed away with each step rafe took until you were finally blocked by your wall. “mhmm, turns out my sweet little girlfriend wants to be treated like a whore in bed.”

you swallowed thickly, a gasp leaving your lips when rafe’s hand wrapped around your throat. “wanna be roughed up?” he laughed, dragging you over to your bed before ripping the robe off of your body. “i’ll fuckin’ rough you up.”

[fuxuannie]

❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Love at first (club) Meeting.

Damian wants to make friends in school. He asked Colin what he should do to get this accomplishment after months of failure.

The friend recommended joining school clubs, affectionately telling him that he was in a sewing club at his own public school.

Damian didn't see how getting into an organization dedicated to some hobby was going to cause friendships, but Colin seemed to have a decent amount of friends when he wasn't running around as Abuse.

He went to check on the clubs available, but nothing really got his attention. There was the art club but only one meeting told him that it wasn't for him. The club was more for his classmates to stand around and chit chat.

None of them actually did any art, seeing as the ussually club advisor was away on maternity leave. The substitute is the baseball couch on off-season, and although he encouraged everyone to draw, it wasn't the same amount of fun as normal activities.

The other kids assured him that they would be painting and sculpting once Mrs. Flor came back, but Damian didn't want to wait.

So he leaves and tries to find a new one. The world history club bored him with useless trivia, and the chess club had no worthy challengers.

Damian decides to try one last time before giving up, when he encounters Daniel Fenton trying to get a second signature for his Ghost Hunting Club.

Fenton is from outside of Gotham. He moved here with his family after Father bought out his family business, having turned their research into defenses against aliens. Damian had seen him around school, but other than the occasional bully, no one paid too much attention to him.

Gotham Academy had four requirements for a student run club. There had to be two members to be officially started. They needed to keep a clear recap of their club minutes, a teacher had to sign as their advisor and, for the first two years, had to be without a bank account.

Fenton held up his pathetic sign-up sheet in front of passing students. He stammers, "Would like to join the Ghost hunter-um if I could bother you for a moment - are you interested in-excuse me"

Damian watches Fenton try over and over to ask for a second club memeber, but no one bothers to even hear his full question. They walk right by him as if though they could see through Fenton. He can't say why but that upsets him.

Before Damian knows what he's doing he finds his feet marching towards Fenton. The boy is staring down at his clipboard with a disheartened expression before he spots Damian.

Fenton's jaw drops, and his eyes grow impossiblely wide as Damian gets closer. He draws his clip board up to his chest, staring at the Wayne as if he was the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

Surely Damian is not that different looking than any other human. Why is he acting like that?

"Good morning," He says when he finally stands in front of Fenton. The boy's face turns s red "I am Damian Wayne."

"Hi, I'm Danny, um Fenton, I'm Danny Fenton," the other rambles while nervously tapping his fingers on the back of the clipboard.

"Well, met Fenton. I overheard you are requesting signatures for a club?"

"Oh!" Fenton turns the clipboard but in his haste it slips from his hold, landing on the ground with loud thump. Damian raises a brow while Fenton breaks out into a sweat.

Damian leans down to grab the board at the same time, Fenton throws himself forward, and he sees the collusion before it happens, but Damian knows that a regular child wouldn't be able to dodge it without raising questions. He allows Fenton's forhead to slam against his with a hiss.

"I'm sorry!" Fenton gasps out, but Damian heeds him no mind, as he signs the form with a flourish. The harsh strokes of his pen echo in the hallway, informing Damian that he needs to head to class before the second bell.

"I shall see you after school. We can see the famous haunted bathroom in the gym. " He tells the fool, slapping the clipboard into the boy's hand. Damian twists on his heel, strutting away. He throws a hand over his shoulder, calling back. "Ta"

He misses the look of utter awe adoration aimed at his back or the rapid growing infatuation in his clubmates' eyes.

It's the start of Damian's very odd club because he finds he actually enjoys walking around the school trying to find readings for ghosts. He even enjoys following Fenton to abandon buildings, dark sewers and sitting around with childish recordings asking for any signs of the afterlife.

That's mostly due to how nervous Fenton was when wandering into haunted places. He finds great joy in watching Fenton try to put a brave face on despite shaking in his boots when a ghost might be around.

It may be cruel of Damian, but it's highly entertaining.

Danny is not scared of ghosts - that would be a bit counterproductive given his Halfa status. He is crushing hard on Damian Wayne, and when he has a crush, he gets ridiculous nervous around them that it's easier to blame the shaking, the sweating and shuttering on phasmophobia.

But could anyone blame him? Damian Wayne is a walking work of art, so much that when Danny first saw him in the hallway, he was half sure, the surroundings had dimmed.

He wasn't exaggerating when Danny thought Damian had stardust and white doves floating around his head at all times. He was that stunning.

And he had walked up to Danny to join his club, the one he had been trying for almost a week to get started because he was tired of being a friendless loser and took up Sam's advice in a desperate last ditch effort. He is so glad he had that video call with her because without it, he would never have gotten to speak to Damian.

They were in different classes, had different lunch periods, and frankly, Damian was the son of the richest man in the country. Danny was the random kid on scholarship with creepy ghost powers hunting other ghosts.

He wrote poems about Damian's eyes when flying over Gotham, sighing like a pathetic school boy. He also dodges a kuni shoot at him by Robin.

Ugh, he hates that guy. He's so rude and has been trying to hunt Danny down ever sense they arrived in Gotham. He was scary good at what he did, and the only reason Danny stayed free was Robin not understanding that he was after a ghost.

Robin thought he was a meta and had attack because of that. Which, racist much? Danny openly mocked him just to get on Robin's nerves.

Batman let Robin cause after the meta because he could tell from that little smile as he raced after the glowing figure that Damian found the other attractive. It reminds him of his early years chasing Catwoman across the rooftops.

Maybe Gotham wasn't so bad a move after all.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

May I please request where I am kiaras sister and I become pregnant from rafe and my parents kick me out

I love this sm

Not under my roof

R! Is 19, mikes an asshole

The wait was suspenseful, Rafe paced the room while your leg bounced up and down, both of you staring at the test.

When the two lines appeared, Rafe threw his hands up, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes welled up.

“Rafe-“

He bit down on his lip, stopping his pacing and looking down at you and nodding, his mind running wild. He thought for a moment before speaking.

“Fuck. Alright, alright, it’s okay. We got this, we can do this shit, right?” He was mostly talking to himself, but he looked at you as he said it. Tears ran down your face and he got down to your level, sitting in front of you, cupping your face gently.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. It’s gonna be alright, okay? ‘M gonna… figure this shit out, gonna marry you, and I’ll… clean up another room at Tannyhill. It’s gonna be fine. Okay?”

You didn’t say anything or nod, he frowned. “You heard me? I’m gonna figure things out for us.”

You nodded and he sighed, standing up and leaving the bathroom.

The one thing you were worried about? How the hell were you gonna tell your parents?

You took a deep breath, fumbling with the key in your hand and opening the front door.

“Mom? Dad?” You called out, shutting the door behind you.

“In here!” Your mom shouted from the dining room. Your heart racing as you walked over to them, plastering a fake smile on your face when you saw them.

Kiara sat, looking miserable at the edge of the table, watching as you entered. Sarah was next to her. Great.

“Sit,” your dad motioned to a plate on the other end of the table. You gave Sarah a small smile and she gave one back.

“What’s this?” You asked when you sat down, pointing to the meat on your plate.

“Swordfish.” Your mom spoke, your face fell and your heart sunk. You couldn’t eat high-mercury fish.

“Is something wrong?” Your dad asked, you swallowed and looked at them.

“Uh... No. It’s just… I can’t eat swordfish.” You said, you should have known they would pester you about why.

“Why?” Kiara asked with an attitude, everyone now staring at you.

“I… my doctor told me not to eat meat for a few days.”

“What? Why? Is something wro-“ your mom immediately started.

“Everything’s fine.” You lied with a small smile, taking a sip of the water next to the plate.

“Then why can’t you eat meat, y/n?” Your mom kept going, a warning in her tone now. She knew something was up.

“I- not here.” You told her, glancing around the table.

“Y/n, tell me right n-“

You uttered the words quietly, 'I'm... I'm pregnant.' The room fell silent as your mom's fork clattered onto her plate, your dad's knife froze in the air above the fish, and my sister's eyes widened in shock as she stared.

Her words stumbled out in disbelief. "W- you’re- what?" she stuttered. "Whose... whose is it?

You looked at Sarah, closing your eyes and sighing as you muttered Rafes name.

Sarah’s face turned into one of shock. Kiara’s one of disgust.

“You had sex with Rafe? Are you kidding me right now?!” Kiara shouted, standing up.

“Kiara! Go to your room!” Your dad shouted back, standing up as well, pointing in the direction of her room. Your sister stormed off, Sarah stumbled behind her, still in shock.

Your dad sighed heavily as he sat back down.

“What are you gonna do with it?” He asked quietly.

“I’m… keeping it.”

“Do you really want to raise a child? You’re 19.”

“I- I mean, I want this. Can’t you just be happy for me, for fucking once?”

“Do not use that language with me, young lady.” He sneered. “I can’t have this shit happening under my roof. Under my watch.”

"You only care about your reputation!" You shouted at him, the words bursting like a dam breaking after years of pent-up anger. It felt terrifying to finally release all that had been bottled up inside you for so long.

“Y/n-“ your mom started, trying her best to stop the both of you.

“Don’t ever fucking say that, I’m just trying to help you! You can’t raise a baby! Not alone-“

“I won’t be alone!”

He scoffed, “you really expect me to believe that Rafe Cameron is going to stay with you after this baby?”

“You don’t know anything about him! Dad-“

“Sweetie, I think you should just lis-“ your mom started.

“No! It is my baby and my life, and if you don’t want to be involved in their life, then so fucking be it!”

“That’s not what he mea-“

“Get out.” He said, breathing heavily as he stared at you.

“W-what?” Your mom asked, looking at him now.

“Get the fuck out of my house, y/n.” He pointed to the front door.

“What? Are you serious right now?!” You exclaimed. “You’re kicking me out?!”

He wordlessly stormed to your room, going through all your drawers and grabbing everything, ignoring your mom’s protests as you shouted at him. He went outside, throwing all your clothes outside. He saw Rafe in the car, and stormed over to the car, Rafe getting out the car and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Dad? What are you doing?!” Kiara asked, coming outside now as well. While she was mad, she still had her love for her sister.

“What the fuck, man?” Rafe pointed to the clothes on the floor and your sobbing figure at the doorway.

“I am not having this shit-“ he pointed to you and Rafe. “-Happen under my roof.”

“Seriously? You know, we shouldn’t have even told you.” Rafe scoffed, watching you gather your clothes from the ground and go into passenger seat of his car.

Mike scoffed. “Can’t believe this shit.”

“She’s an adult!”

“I fuckin’ told her time and time again to stay away from guys like you-“

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Mike?” He sneered, already rolling up his long sleeves before you got out the car and sniffled at him.

“C’mon, please. Don’t.” You told him, not even looking at your parents. Your eyes were pleading and he just scoffed, motioning for you to get back in the car and getting back in the drivers seat.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“How’d Ward and rose take it?” You asked him quietly, interrupting the silence.

“Better than your parents.” He scoffed, making you look down in your lap.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled to him.

“For what?” He questioned, genuinely confused as he glanced at you.

“Making you see that.”

“Hey, what did I tell you? I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. I meant that shit, kid.“

It was silent for a little until he spoke up again.

“But, expect to be asked a million questions by Wheeze when we get back.” He said with a small smile playing on his lips.

[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[ariaxmu]

cancellations

summary: theo keeps cancelling your dates, and you think it's because he isn't interested anymore. however..

warning: anxious!theo, theo has a mini panic attack, reader helps calm him down.

a month. that is how long it's been. an entire month.

a month ago, theo and i both desperately, and drunkenly, confessed our feelings for each other, after months of pining and flirting. it was truly the best night of my life. he asked me on a date, it was all planned perfectly, but it never happened.

he cancelled the first one, saying he was sick and couldn't make it. i saw him the following morning with his friends, looking perfectly fine, but i thought maybe he just took some potions and was feeling better. he apologized profusely, and we rescheduled. so i did not see this as a red flag, but now i'm not so sure.

the second time, the week after, he cancelled again. blamed it on the boys had thrown some impromptu party for blaise as his birthday was a couple of days after and they didn't realize. so i told him it was okay, we could reschedule, and that was that. he didn't even invite me to the party. and then, reluctantly we rescheduled again.

then he started ignoring me more around the school, and in classes. it's like he was avoiding me like the plague. everyday, i just prayed he would come up to me, apologize for everything and make time for me. but that day never came.

which leads us up to today. our date was supposed to be tonight, but as i stare down at the letter in my hands with watery eyes, i'm let down... again. i glance over at the slytherin table, i notice him almost hiding from me as his friends look over apologetically.

''hi, need to reschedule again. something came up - t.n <3''

i feel frustration bubble up in my chest as i read the pathetic note. i'm not one to usually get angry, but this is beyond hurtful and embarrassing. i'm tired of defending him to my friends, i'm tired of having my hopes crushed. i'm just tired.

i wipe a stray tear from my eye as my friends look at me, sympathetically. i sniffle, why can't i just be the girl someone chooses for once.

i grab my quill, quickly writing a response to his note, scoffing because he couldn't even tell me in person.

''don't reschedule this time. tired of being let down. thanks for wasting my time. - y/n.''

i stand up, hot tears still in my eyes as i walk over to the slytherin table, theo's eyes widening and cheeks bright red as i walk over. i put the note down in front of him, angrily, before walking away and out of the great hall. the dam breaks as i sob into my hands, rushing back to my dorm room to hide.

--third person--

theo quickly grabs the note, his heart and stomach dropping as he reads the words. ''shit... shit!'' he exclaimed, worriedly rubbing a hand over his face. he throws the note to his friends, as they all read it and cringe.

''damn.. you really messed this up, huh?'' mattheo mumbles out.

''yeah no shit'' theo groans.

''man you should have just told her from the start, she is kind, she would have understood'' draco says, patting theo's back.

''and what would i say? oh hi love of my life, i'm going to cancel on every one of our dates because i'm too anxious and shy?'' he scoffs.

''not exactly, but essentially yeah. she would've helped you'' draco says with a soft sigh.

''what am i supposed to do now? i can't lose her, you all know how i feel about her'' theo sighs.

''you need to explain to her why you cancelled so many times. just be honest, tell her you have anxiety and this stuff makes you freak out.'' enzo says, ''if you don't you're going to lose her.''

''what if it's too late?'' theo gulps.

''go there now. only one way to find out'' mattheo nods. theo takes a deep breath in, standing up and rushing out of the great hall. his hands shaking, palms sweating as he tried to keep himself calm.

this is what happens every time he is near y/n. he stumbles on his words, feels light headed, sweats and shakes. it's not something he has truly ever experienced before, having feelings this strong for someone. but he knows it's something he can't let his anxiety get in the way of.

--back to normal--

i cry into my pillow, feeling utterly humiliated. i have never liked someone as much as i like him, and i thought he felt the same. but clearly not.

my head snaps up as i hear a knock on my door, and i quickly hop up thinking it would be one of my friends coming to comfort me. i wipe my eyes, opening the door, heart dropping when i see theo there.

''h-hi'' he stutters out. he looks flushed, breathing ragged as he stands there.

''hi..'' i sniffle. ''what do you want?''

''i came here to uh, explain myself. can i c-come in?'' he gulped.

i nod once, feeling defeated. he walks in, sitting on the end of my bed. ''sit with me'' he takes in a deep breath.

''look, if you're just here to tell me that you don't like me anymore, or that you found someone else then just leave. i don't need to hear it'' i say, tears welling up in my eyes again just at the thought.

''n-no! it's neither of those things. my feelings for you haven't changed from the moment i met you'' he says, a little on edge but softly.

''then what is it?'' i say, confused as i sit beside him.

he shakes his head for a moment, his face going more red, breathing sounding shaky and irregular, body shaking slightly. i furrow my brows, becoming a little worred.

''are you okay? theo?'' i say, grabbing one of his hands with mine gently.

''i-i just get like this sometimes, no big deal'' he gulps, barely getting his words out through his fast breathing.

''no big deal? theo i think you're having a panic attack'' i say, standing up so i can kneel in front of him, grabbing both of his hands in mine.

''i-i can't breathe'' he choked out, breathing getting faster by the minute.

''you need to take slower breaths, theo. look at me, breathe with me'' i say as gently and as calm as i could.

''n-no i can't'' he coughs, only making the breathing worse. i look into his eyes, noticing them watering with tears, one trickling down his red cheek. hair sticking to his forehead, i am frantic as i try to think of something to help because the breathing exercises aren't.

i furrow my eyebrows, thinking of anyway i can stall his breathing without making him worse. then i get an idea.

''forgive me for this, theo, just trust me'' i say softly, before i lean up and press my lips onto his. his eyes widen for a moment, my kiss stopping his frantic breathing as he looks at me extremely shocked.

and after a moment, i feel him breathing softly through his nose, watching his eyes flutter and close, and he kisses me back. i keep my hands locked with his as we kiss, the shaking stopping as they grip mine.

and after a while, he pulls back, taking one deep breath in, and out. he locks eyes with me as i look at him with rosy cheeks.

''are you feeling okay?'' i say softly.

''yeah... thankyou'' he gulps. ''how'd you do that?'' he breathes out.

''well.. i know to help a panic attack you need to slow the breathing so um.. when i kissed you, it slowed it down'' i say, nervously.

''woah. like magic..'' he says, nodding his head as his body finally relaxes.

''this is why i have been cancelling on you. because- i have been terrified that if we go somewhere or- if i'm just with you then i'll get like this, and i didn't want to embarrass you or make you like me less..'' he explains.

''theo.. that would never happen. i've been crazy about you for ages now, your anxiety will never change that. a-and if we went somewhere and you felt this way then i'd take you somewhere quiet and try to help you. you know that'' i whisper, moving his hair from his forehead. ''i just want to be with you, is all. i want to be the person you do come to about these things'' i explain softly.

he nods his head, smiling softly. 'i'm so sorry about the past month, it's been tough. i want to make it up to you'' he says, pulling me back up to sit beside him. ''i was so anxious but- now i'm here with you i have no idea why i was...'' he mumbles, pressing his lips onto mine for a split second, a gently peck ghosting my lips.

''date is back on for tonight. i'll meet you by the great hall at 7, okay?'' he says, smiling at me as my face lights up. i nod quickly.

''and if you feel anxious before then, come here and i can use my magic powers again'' i giggle, as he walks towards the door.

''even if i don't i will still be coming back here for that'' he winks as he leaves the room.

[felixknow]

Bang Chan: Worshipper

sorry, I had to repost this. the last one wasn't showing up in search results.

Smut!!! MDNI, NSFW!!!!! Established relationship w/ plus size c!sfem reader; body image issues and breakdown; d@ddy k!nk, bbygirl said a lot, praise during intimacy, Chris being a soft dom basically <3

Chris opens the door and frowns.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you ask quietly, dropping your bag from your shoulder.

“Don’t even get me started. You’re not looking at me for one, and you knocked on my door. Since when do you knock?”

You shrug halfheartedly, kicking your feet a little, nervously shuffling back and forth.

“Can I come in, or…?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, opening the door wider and taking your hand as you step inside. You take off your shoes and sit your purse down, then pass him, letting go of his hand. He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Y/N.”

You shuffle into the living room and drop down onto the couch, curling into yourself against the arm, resting your cheek against the backrest.

“What happened, baby?” Chris asks, sitting behind you and gently trying to pull you toward him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, letting him turn you at least a little so you’re sitting facing forward. “I’m just… pathetic,” you whine, turning your face away from him so he can’t see the heavy tears welling up in your eyes.

“Baby, no you’re not.” He tries to pull you in for a hug, but you panic and thrash, throwing his arms away from you. His mouth falls open in shock, his eyes looking betrayed and hurt, and finally the dam inside of you bursts.

“I’m upset because I saw this beautiful, skinny girl and I saw her beautiful, skinny friends and I just started to feel so disgusting and huge and it didn’t matter how much progress I’ve made loving myself lately because when I saw them I just wanted to cry. I feel so disgusting, Chris. I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone so huge and blobby. You should be with someone hot and pretty and skinny and beautiful like those girls.”

You can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m disgusting,” you mumble.

You can barely move out of an irrational fear that he’ll suddenly see you as terribly as you suddenly began to see yourself.

“You shouldn’t be with me,” you whimper.

You just want so desperately to shrivel up and disappear.

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks, hurt and empathy dripping from his voice. “Babygirl, you are beautiful. Do you hear me?” He holds your arm and tries yet again to turn you toward him, but you shake your head and keep your head turned away.

“Y/N, I don’t care what other girls look like. ‘Thin’ doesn’t mean ‘beautiful,’ the same way ‘fat’ doesn’t mean ‘ugly.’ It’s okay to have bad days, but you can’t genuinely think that those girls were better or more attractive than you just because something bad happened in your head. This isn’t my baby. Where’s my baby?”

He tries again to turn you toward him, and finally you let him, but you snap.

“This is your baby. Your huge, fat girlfriend who’s twice your size and probably is so fucking ugly when you try to lay her down to make love--”

Your voice cracks.

“How could you even want me? I’m disgusting.”

Finally you break, sobbing and letting him pull you into his open and waiting arms. He holds you tightly, shushing you and rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“No, no, no, don’t ever say that. Don’t do that, Y/N. I love every single bit of you. I think you’re beautiful. I love your body. I love your mind. I love the way you look, in your clothes and out of them. I don’t want a different girl. I want you and all your lovely curves and rolls. Don’t cringe right now, don’t you do that,” he says, scolding you when you flinch at his words. “You say all the time that I looove your curves and your rolls, and you’re right. But for some reason you can’t say it today, so I’m saying it for you. It’s not a bad thing to be big, Y/N. I love you.”

Your cries subside slowly as Chris talks, and finally you settle down to lip wobbles and quiet sniffles.

“I love you,” he says again, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“Can I see that pretty smile?” He pokes your side, making you turn away from him slightly. You know the barrage of tickles is coming before he even starts.

“Noo,” you whine, trying to scoot away from him, but he locks one arm around you and starts his tickle attack with the other, targeting your sides and your belly. Your laughs come loud and hard. Your lungs are sore almost immediately, and he doesn’t stop despite your desperate gasps of his name amongst your giggles and squeals as you squirm and push against his strong arms.

“You need Daddy to show you how perfect you are, huh?” he asks through gritted teeth despite his smile. His voice is a mix of teasing and stern, ready to slip into his dom role with you at your signal. You can’t respond properly through your laughter despite the slowing of his prodding fingers into your sensitive side.

“I think you need me to worship this beautiful body of yours, yeah?” he asks, urging you to respond. He finally stops tickling you and instead grabs onto one of your thick thighs with one hand while his other hand finds its way around the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me, Princess, or Daddy’s gonna answer for ya.”

Words still won’t come out between your panting breaths and still-negative thoughts swirling in your head. So you moan in response, staring into Chris’s eyes with your mouth held shut by his grip.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“That’s how it is, eh?” He lets go of your face and leg at the same time and climbs to his feet. “I know just what you need, then. Come with me.” He takes your hands and pulls you up and along behind him, down the hall and into his bedroom. He makes a point of dramatically locking the door behind the two of you before turning toward you with a serious look on his face.

“You’re gonna take what I give you, understand?” he asks before pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor, leaving his impeccably sculpted torso on display for you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly, nodding.

“Good girl. Now I want you to take everything off.” Your face falls. “Ah, ah, don’t argue with me. I said everything.”

Tears involuntarily spring to the corner of your eyes.

“But, Chris--”

“--Who?”

“Daddy…”

“Do as I say. Now.”

“But I’d be more comfortable if we went slow…” Your fingers play with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“I said you’re going to take what I give you, Princess,” he says dangerously and slowly. “Did you misunderstand? I’m not asking. Take it all off. Now. I won’t tell you again.”

You have no choice but to comply. With shaking hands you take off your shirt and bra, then your pants, underwear, and socks until you’re standing in your boyfriend’s room wearing nothing but your own embarrassment.

Chris either doesn't notice or doesn’t care. He hisses as he palms himself and groans when your last shred of clothing hits the floor.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” You shake your head slightly and cross your arms, holding yourself tightly, trying to cover yourself. “Mm, obviously you don’t or we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Chris crosses the empty space between you and grabs your arms, forcing them down to your sides. He shamelessly pets and squeezes your arms, your chest, your belly, your sides, your back, your hips-- everything he can get his hands on despite your wriggling and whining as you try to turn away from him.

“I love this body,” he mumbles against your neck as he holds your body against his with his hands grabbing two handfuls of your ass. “I love your soft arms and your big stomach and your cute little rolls. You’re so warm and sweet, I could just eat you up.” His lips brush up and down your neck, presses kisses between his praise of you, sucks love bites into the column of your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck the sense back into you,” he says, voice dipping lower, growing closer to a growl. His grip tightens almost painfully on your ass before he massages the force of his grip back out. That’s the kind of night it’s going to be. He’s going to make you take it no matter how hard he gives it, but he’ll always be sure to make it better once he’s satisfied.

“There’s no reason my girl should be doubting me, or herself.” He holds your face in place again, making you look him in the eye. His other hand sweetly pulls your hair to one side and brushes it out neatly before grabbing it in a tight grip. “You think I want a skinny girlfriend? You think I want someone who doesn’t look like you?”

You nod slightly, but his stern look and annoyed tilt of his head makes you quickly correct and shake your head.

“No, no,” you say, trying to correct yourself. “You want me.”

“That’s right,” he says, holding your hair tighter. “If I wanted a skinny girl I’d be with a skinny girl, wouldn’t I? As if I even care about someone’s size. You know, it’s not nice to try to put words into my mouth. Who I ‘should’ date, who I’d ‘look better’ with. It’s insulting, Princess. Are you gonna say sorry for insulting me?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, trying your best to pout.

“How sorry?” he lets go of your face but not your hair.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I shouldn’t have said those stupid things. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You gonna be a good girl now and apologize properly?”

You nod frantically.

“Yes. Yes, Daddy. Whatever you want.”

“Lay down on the edge of the bed and let me fuck your throat then.” He finally lets go of your hair and almost shoves you toward the bed by the force of his hand leaving you. Reflexively his other hand catches you and makes sure you’re steady before you get into position.

Rough but sweet.

You climb onto his bed and lay on your back, scooting up until your head and hair hangs off the edge. Chris takes his time removing his pants and underwear, watching you spread yourself out for him despite your deep instinct to cover yourself and hide.

“Good girl,” he praises when you part your lips and hold your mouth open and waiting for him. He sighs and bites back a moan as he strokes himself, slowly shuffling closer and closer to you until he can prod his tip against your lip. You stick your tongue out and try to get a taste of him, but he steps back.

“Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?”

“No,” you say quietly.

“So behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Chris comes closer again and rubs his tip against your lips, tracing them and circling them until he finally decides to push into your mouth. He moans and greedily keeps pushing and pushing until his cock is buried to the hilt and your throat is full of him.

“That’s my good girl,” he says in a low groan. “Ahh, yeah. Such a good fucking girl, hmm?” He slowly pulls back and starts rocking forward again, and all you can do is hum around him to agree and try your best not to gag.

“Fuck. Yeahh,” he hisses, thrusting faster as he reaches out to grab and squeeze your tits. Tears start to roll down your cheeks just from the pressure and the half-gags you have to keep choking down. 

“Mmm, my pretty girl. So good for me. Yeahh, just for me, baby. Such a good girl. I love the way you look like this. I love seeing your whole body while I fuck that pretty face.”

He babbles on, praising you while leaning forward to touch your body. He plays with your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. He runs his hands across your stomach, grabbing the rolls at your sides and sweetly rubbing his thumbs against them. His hands wander higher, petting your arms and your chest and finally he caresses your face and notices the tears streaming out of your eyes.

“Oh, babygirl,” he coos, backing up and taking his cock out of your mouth.

“No,” you whine as soon as your mouth is free. “Daddy, noo, come back. Don’t stop, please.”

“Why are you crying, Princess?” he asks, kneeling down and kissing one of the tear trails on the side of your face.

“Just because I was gagging. I’m not crying anymore.”

“You’re not? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl.” He once again grips your chin and turns your head to him. He kisses you deeply, giving a long pause for this gentle intimacy before he gets back to his ultimate goal: fucking every single shred of self-doubt out of you.

“You know I hate when you cry, babygirl,” he says, kneeling on the bed and sitting in the middle. “Come here.”

You take his hands for support and he helps you sit up. He guides you closer and closer, and finally has you sit straddling his lap. He places your arms around his neck, then his hands wander, slowly caressing your arms, your shoulders, down your back and every inch of your sides and hips. He pets your thighs and brushes the back of his fingers against your stomach and across your breasts before he finally palms them and squeezes gently.

“You’re so beautiful to me. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” he says softly. “I’ve never once looked at you and thought you were anything less than stunning. I’ve never thought you were any of the negative things you’ve thought about yourself.”

“Really?” you ask breathily, trying to focus on three things at once-- stopping yourself from crying again, hesitating to put your full weight on his lap, and the way his touching your body and now your chest is making you as flustered as the first time you had sex with him when every touch he gifted you felt feather-light and exciting.

“Really,” he insists, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck where he already left love bites. His hands move again, reaching down to your hips and your thighs once again. “I’ll sit here and tell you over and over and over again until you believe me.” One hand stills on your hip but the other caresses closer to your inner thigh. “I’ll tell you a million times how attractive you are and how addicted I am to your body.” You involuntarily jump, just slightly, when his gentle fingers brush against your cunt. “And if it doesn’t make you feel any better, I’ll tell you a million more.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He lifts his head again and meets your eyes.

“Look at me,” he whispers as his fingers spread your lips and slip against your skin thanks to the wetness he’s already caused.

“My sweet girl.” He traces your labia lazily for a few seconds, staring deep into your eyes. You squirm in his lap and your hips involuntarily buck down against his hand when his finger swipes across your clit.

“My pretty girl,” he says, circling your clit slowly. “Don’t you agree? You’re my pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you sigh out.

His hand stops.

“Say it.”

“I’m your pretty girl.”

His fingers start moving again, a little faster than before.

“Good girl. My beautiful girl.”

You moan and roll your head back, but Chris immediately stops his hand.

“Baby,” he warns. “Eyes on me.”

Oh.

You tilt your head back up slowly and make eye contact again, no doubt with lust-clouded eyes. Chris’s eyes are dark but shiny and playful as always, and he looks at you in a way that makes your head spin. His gaze is a mix of stern command and lovelorn fawning.

“Repeat what I said,” he says after a moment of silence, flicking a finger across your clit, making you hiss and suck in a breath. 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to remember what he even said ten seconds ago. “I'm sorry, I don't remember.”

“You don't remember? My fingers make you lose your head that much? I haven't even let you ride them yet.”

You whine and roll your hips as if you were riding them already.

“I want to,” you whine, but he tsks.

“You're so beautiful, babygirl. I want to make you feel good because you're the most beautiful when you're cumming because of me, but I need you to love yourself again before the end of this. My beautiful girl.”

He slides his middle finger into you, lazily curling the end of it so you can feel him press against your walls. Your instinct tells you to close your eyes or look away, but you know by now that if you take your eyes off him he'll stop. 

“Your beautiful girl,” you force out, trying to keep your breathing steady despite the way your heart pounds in your chest. There's something so overwhelming about this intimacy-- not just the sex, not his finger inside you, but the combination of his eyes locked on yours while doing it and making you say his possessive affirmations��

“It's too much,” you whine. “I’m overwhelmed,” you mumble, looking away from him and putting on your best pout so maybe he won’t punish you too harshly.

His finger slides out of you and he tilts his head to try to look at you.

“Too much? You don’t know what too much is. I haven’t given you enough yet.” He puts two of his wet fingers against your clit and starts frantically rubbing, letting your sensitive bud bounce between the cleft of his two slippery fingers. You immediately jump and whine, squirming and moaning, hips rolling and twitching.

“Ahhhh, mmm, Chris, ahhh!”

His fingers stop abruptly.

“Who?”

“Daddyyyy.”

“Look at me while I make you cum,” he demands, moving his two fingers in their frantic rhythm again. Your head doesn’t move, so he grabs you by the throat, squeezing at the outer edges just slightly. You gasp and grab his wrist with both hands, finally looking at him again.

You can’t make out any words, only gradually louder whines and pathetic moans as he works you closer and closer to your climax. No one has ever been able to make you cum so quickly from their fingers alone, but Chris has always had a special way of winding you up so tightly that you feel like you’ll burst before he even gets his hands on you.

Now he’s got you on the brink, one hand on your throat while the other works your clit. He lavishes you with his words.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. I love your body. I know every inch of this beautiful, big body. Wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that? Wouldn’t change a thing about your body, Princess. I love you.”

“I love you,” you gasp out. The way you’re sitting on his lap won’t let you close your legs, but your thighs tremble and try to work shut anyway. The cocky smile on Chris’s mouth while he waits for you to reach your climax is too good. He knows you too well. He knows.

“I love youuu,” he says again, sickeningly sweet, right as it finally hits you. You throw your head back as much as you’re able with his hand holding your throat in place. You grind down on his hand, groaning and moaning, incoherently trying to call out his name in a desperate attempt to connect to him further.

“My sexy girl,” he chuckles. “God, I love the way you look when you cum.” He releases your neck and tilts your head forward to press your lips against his. While he kisses you, his fingers gradually stop and finally still, then his damp hand rests against your waist. 

He kisses you languidly, swallowing the rest of your whimpers as the overwhelming warmth and pleasure works its way through your system and you slowly calm down.

Finally when you’ve been quiet for a few moments, he pulls away.

“I should have done that in front of a mirror--” he says in a low voice. “--or recorded it. You need to see how pretty you are when you cum.”

“Maybe next time…?”

“That’s a wonderful idea, babygirl. Next time. But for now…” He reaches down and pulls on your calf, making you swing your leg to the side and then wrap it around him. He guides you to do the same on the other side until you’re no longer sitting on your knees straddling his lap. Instead you’re sitting in his lap properly with your legs locked behind him.

“Now I need to fuck that pretty pussy, and we’re gonna do it together, yeah?” Chris takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding you to start stroking him. “You’re gonna-- ahh-- You’re gonna ride me and I’m gonna fuck you, and you have to keep looking at me, got it?”

You nod quickly but don’t verbally respond. You really wanna look down at his cock, especially as he helps you tilt it toward your cunt while pulling you forward until you’re close enough to feel the tip hitting heavily against your clit.

But you can’t look away from his soft eyes.

His persona is slipping. The bite has been falling out of his voice. The intimacy of having you in his lap, reacting so strongly to every little touch he gives you, has filled him with love more than pride; confidence in your relationship, more than smugness for his ego.

And you can see it all betrayed in his eyes.

“Closer,” he mumbles, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist. He holds you impossibly close to his body, your stomach squishing against his toned abs and your soft breasts flattening against his chest. The soft love-struck look in his eyes never falters, not even as you shift to the side a little so you can still help guide his dick into you despite your stomach being in the way.

He moans happily when you finally start sinking down on him, and you moan right back, whining needily as he fills you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, briefly tilting your head down as if you’re gonna lay it on his shoulder, but you remember his one rule and sit back up.

“This pussy always takes me so well,” Chris sighs happily. “I love this fucking body. I love it,” he groans, bucking up into you while his second arm joins his first locked around your waist.

“I love you,” you gasp, grinding down against him.

“I love you. I need you to love yourself like I love you.”

“I’ll try,” you stutter, nodding. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

You move your hips together continuously, Chris bucking upward and you grinding down. You have more freedom of movement being on top, so you take it upon yourself to circle or slide your hips back and forth depending on what feels best.

Chris’s hands grip your squishy hips and love handles tightly when you move in a way that feels really good for him, and when you get him really worked up he can’t help but to reel you in by a gentle hand on the back of your head. He moans into your mouth and kisses you with more tongue than lip, trying to lick every moan and whine out of our mouth before it can fall.

Your moans grow more frantic once one of his hands reaches down to rub his thumb against your clit lazily while you continue to fuck each other. Chris swallows all your sounds down, refusing to let you break the kiss to warn him that you’re so so so close.

He can tell, though. Of course he can. He knows your body and its reactions better than you know it yourself.

He keeps working you from both angles-- his hips bucking up and his thumb brushing your already-oversensitive clit, until you break.

Your body shakes, starting in your legs and working all the way up as a delicious orgasm rolls through your entire body. You chant his name against his mouth, and he smirks and almost chuckles at first, until the fluttering of your walls as you keep riding through your orgasm sends him hurtling past the point of no return as well.

He cums hot, silky shots into your pussy with no concern for the consequences.

“Oh, fuck,” he barks when the sudden orgasm takes him, having turned his head away from you just quick enough to not shout in your face. 

“Daddy,” you sigh blissfully, running your hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Chris. That was… That was so much.”

He chuckles softly and pecks small kisses across your cheek and jaw.

“I’m at a loss for words as well,” he says quietly. Both of you are still now, no more bucking hips and rolling waves. You’re left with only the heaving of your chests as your breathing steadies in tandem.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“I don’t expect this to have made everything better,” he admits, once again meeting your eye. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and traces his finger down the edge of your face. “Sometimes I’m just so baffled that you can’t see how beautiful you are. To me you’re like a goddess-- literally, like those Greek statues. I’m so in love with you and how you look. I wanted you to feel that.”

“I did. I really did, I promise.”

“Good. Though I’m not opposed to showing you again if you need me to,” he says cheekily, and you giggle, shaking your head.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind for the future, but I understand you perfectly tonight.”

[pucksandpower]

Mad World

Logan Sargeant x Vowles!Reader

Summary: no matter how cruel the rest of the world may seem, Logan will always have a home with you

Logan stares blankly at James Vowles, unable to process the words coming out of his team principal’s mouth.

“I’m … I’m sorry, what?” Logan stammers, his heart pounding. This can’t be happening.

James looks immensely uncomfortable but pushes on. “Alex needs your chassis since his is too damaged and the team does not have a spare. You’ll have to withdraw from the race weekend.”

The room falls into an oppressive silence as the words sink in. Logan can feel his chance at remaining in Formula 1 next year slipping away with each agonizing second. Why is he being punished for a crash that wasn’t his fault? The questions swirl dizzily in his mind.

James regards him with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry, Logan. There’s no other way ...”

The words hit Logan like a punch to the gut. He stares at James, numb, his mind spinning. After a long silence, he nods mutely and forces out, “I … I need a minute.” His feet move without conscious thought, carrying him blindly down the corridors as burning tears blur his vision.

Logan’s heart pounds in his chest as he rushes through the hallway, tears streaming down his face. He can barely see where he’s going as he barrels toward his driver’s room. His breaths come in ragged gasps, the weight of James’ words crushing him.

How could they do this to him? After everything?

He fumbles with the handle, finally wrenching the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Logan leans back against it, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. Sobs wrack his body as the reality sinks in — he’s out for the weekend because of someone else’s mistake.

It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

His career, his dreams, his entire future flashing before his eyes, slipping away because Williams can’t get their act together. Why did they even re-sign him if they have so little faith? The questions swirl in his mind, only compounded by the hurt and anger burning in his chest.

Logan stays like that for who knows how long, gasping for air between cries that feel like they’re literally tearing him apart from the inside.

He’s so consumed by emotion that he doesn’t hear the tentative knock at first. When it comes again, louder this time, he jolts slightly, raising a hand to wipe uselessly at his tear-streaked face.

With trembling fingers, he pulls open the door, and you’re standing there. The mere sight of you breaks through the haze of devastation, if only for a moment.

You step inside without a word, wrapping your arms around him, and the dam breaks again. Fresh sobs spill out as Logan crumples against your chest, clinging to you like a lifeline while you softly hush him, guiding the two of you to the couch.

You maneuver him gently until his head is cradled in your lap, your fingers combing soothingly through his hair. “I came as soon as I heard,” you murmur, voice thick with shared pain. “I can’t believe they would do this to you because of their own mistakes. It’s not right.”

Logan tries to speak, to voice the turmoil inside him, but all that comes out is a strangled, “Why? I don’t … I don’t understand. It’s not my fault, so why am I being punished?” His words dissolve into hiccuping gasps. “They must not have faith in me at all. This … this is it, isn’t it? The end.”

You shush him again, cupping his face to brush the tears away with your thumbs. “Don’t think like that. The team is the one in the wrong here, not you.”

But the storm won’t be quelled so easily. Logan sits up abruptly, putting distance between you despite how his heart aches at the loss of your touch. “But soon I won’t even be a driver anymore,” he chokes out, meeting your eyes with his own reddened, devastated gaze. “You shouldn’t … you deserve so much better than me, Y/N. Better than someone whose career is over before it even started.”

“Logan Sargeant, don’t you dare say that.” You’re on your feet in an instant, hands on your hips in a stance he knows all too well — the fierce protectiveness that still makes his heart flutter, even now. “I am with you because I love you, every amazing, incredible part of you. Not because you’re an F1 driver, but because of the person you are.”

He can only gape at you, stunned into silence by the intensity of your words, the unwavering certainty in your tone. You step closer, cupping his face again, making him meet the blazing love and conviction in your eyes.

“I don’t care if you never race again, though you know I believe in you with everything I have. I’m not going anywhere, do you understand me? We’re in this together, always, no matter what.” You press your lips to his brow, his cheeks, finally claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that leaves him dizzy. “I love you,” you breathe against his lips. “I love you so much, Logan.”

He’s dumbstruck, overwhelmed by the ferocity of your devotion, even in the face of his lowest moment. How did he get so lucky as to have you in his life? In a heartbeat, Logan is kissing you again, tears of a different kind streaking his cheeks as he murmurs the words over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you ...”

Eventually, you guide him back until he’s lying down on the couch once more, placing a small pillow under his head. “Get some rest, babe. You’ve been through the ringer today.”

He catches your hand before you can move away fully. “Where are you going?”

The fiery look in your eye makes his stomach flip. “I need to go have a … conversation … with my father.”

Logan lets out a teary laugh at your protective fierceness — one of the many things he loves most about you. “Yes ma’am.”

Leaning down, you brush one last lingering kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

As you turn and head for the door, Logan feels his heart swell watching your receding form. For all the hurt today has brought, he knows more than ever that he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side.

As Logan drifts into an exhausted doze, his last conscious thoughts are of you — his forever, his everything — and how lucky he is to have such an amazing love in his life.

No matter what happens next.