#been sobbing over this event like
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Follow the leader Kalim âŞ
#been sobbing over this event like#everytime kalim shows up im reduced to a blubbering and bawling mess#!!!! my lil fella the whismy is unmatched#was so into this piece that i forgot to study for my exams so uh ahah i gotta do that now cya#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#kalim al asim#twst fanart#twst kalim#leona kingscholar#jack howl#twst leona#twst jack#playful land event#twst playful land
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i miss herâŚ
#cant believe i forgot about her till the photobook q&a im so sorry witch mona~~~~~~~#press f for honeypre atelier gachas it was gone too soonâ˘ď¸#(currently e x t r e m e l y worried and stressed for tomorrow like never before b u t i have to appear like im fine sobs save me monachann)#(can i go on a stress-prompted tangent here about something inane? no? toooo bad im gonna go off anyway~~~~)#ok so. like. since witch mona is the image i have up âere and since itâs still ä¸ć⌠todayâs tangent will be on irl spooky stories!!#s o. presenting a decently repressed memory from my childhood that resurfaced while i was hibernating at home:#anyways. well. thoughts about the afterlife can vary from person to person yes? thereâs no one true correct belief after all#but the one question that unites us all is probably the one and only âare ghosts real?â#and well. for personal reasons i think so. i mean iâve seen this one dude i hate get possessed a couple of times so welp. cant deny it ig.#wild story about that actually. back in the day my familyâs finances were allegedly doing so badly that [dude i hate] had to pick up#a *c e r t a i n* side hustle for extra cash. that side hustle? literal grave digging at the cemetary. at night no less#and *ofc* he wasnât respectful about it in the least so ofc some spirits followed him home. yay. free roommates.#one(?) of them even took residence in my room at the time and im 80% sure they ate my history textbook :( much sads#anyways well once that guy had too much to drink (which was rather often tbh) heâd get possessed. fun!#the only possession i ever saw was the n-rarity angry ghost whoâd just huff and puff in silence with unfocused eyes most of the time#heâd occasionally put on a leather jacket too. but that was like a r-rarity event that didnât happen that often#my mother had the chance to also witness the mosquito (who tried to barge into my room for fresh blood) and the ĺ§ĺ¨ (self-explanatory)#which is kinda unfair tbh. i wanted to see the ur-rarity ones too :( mostly bc itâd be funny to see a guy i hate act ooc (impure intentions)#oh right. âhow did we get the dude out of his possession? we just shook his arm really hard. prolly caused some lasting effects but who know#i think he could also just sleep off the possession but idk i was asleep for the ur-rarity incidents.#cant ask the one witness of it bc i dont want to bring back unnecessary flashbacks of [guy we hate]#anyways itâs been years since we moved out from that place and i still want my history textbook back. mostly for the principle of it butâ#and so thatâs the tangent of the day. i feel weirdly less stressed now thanks witch mona#i do wonder how my grandparents are faring on this ä¸ć thoughâŚ#b u t !!!!! tomorrowâs date on the lunar calendar says itâs an auspicious day for wishful activity and starting a new job!!! so⌠maybe~~~~?#hauauauauauauauuauaaaaaa anyways insane tangent over stream monaâs new album ok bye#oops forgor to disable rbs i hate how easy it is to forget to use this function man
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vent incoming:
got my grades back for my courses last semester and most of it was to be expected, mostly A's, maybe an A-, etc. but i honestly can't get over the fact that my independent study (the buddy cole documentary) was for some reason given a B. like sure getting a B isn't bad per se, I usually get at least one B every semester and i honestly don't really care about what my exact gpa is as long as i can graduate, but come on. this school put me through months of psychological torment over this project and didn't even have the nerve to give me a B+??? i'm still coping with the self-doubt they forced on me and this bullshit is not helping!!
#honestly it's kind of hilarious ngl. especially bc i also got my documentary work counted as an independent study the previous semester#and the previous semester even tho i barely worked on the doc itself#(mostly just planning and putting together the crowdfunding which was still a lot of work but like compare it to the past few months)#they were willing to give me an A (my school doesn't do A+ so this is the highest mark possible)#vs this semester. like i'll admit my final assignment was late and could have been more polished#but i was literally on tour in documentary-mode 24/7 for several weeks. i filmed an entire comedy special! i put together a live interview!#not to mention having to fucking negotiate with my own college censoring the footage they'd promised me of an event i put together#and play nice with a professor who literally outed me on twitter in an attempt to cancel one of my best friends#at this point the ''B'' feels more like a petty grudge than anything else#like ok we can't get away with *actually* fucking over jessamine's grades bc clearly ze did do the work. but let's just give zir a B#like i will admit the audio quality in my final isn't great. and i could have used more polished footage in some sections#but counterpoint: 100+ students were arrested at a protest while i was editing and i was having a mental breakdown#the fact that i finished *anything* is goddamn impressive especially after they essentially conditioned me to hate myself any time i was#working on a project i loved!!!#due to the aforementioned student arrests my college did put out an option where we could change any letter grade this semester to pass/fai#so anything passing wouldn't impact our gpa if we didn't want it to. so i could just change the B to a ''pass''#but really what's the point. ''B'' is still a good grade and my GPA is fine (3.65 on a 4.0 grading scale. 2.0 is required to graduate)#it just sucks that after what i went through last semester i feel like nobody takes it seriously#i was reminiscing earlier about how it's honestly kind of funny how after that professor outed me on twitter#i was at the hotel with scott like an hour later sobbing and having an existential crisis about my relationship to gender#and scott was so supportive but also awkwardly being like#''i know i should offer the crying child a tissue but where the fuck are the tissues in this room what do i do''#and he just handed me a full-on towel instead like oh my god he was trying his best but also so clearly out of his depth#but of course i then had to remember how when i told that story to a different professor to be like ''this is how much scott cares about me#this guy called me fucking UNPROFESSIONAL for crying in front of the subject of my documentary?????????#like yeah maybe so but how DARE you call me unprofessional when a different professor tweeted my full name and gender without my consent#in an attempt to fucking cancel one of my friends for ''misgendering'' me for using pronouns i'm fine with him using!!!#i don't think i'm ever going to be able to forgive my college and i don't know how i'll be able to get through one more semester#that experience genuinely changed things about my psychology that i'm not proud of and i need to work through#so if i have to miss a goddamn kids in the hall event because i have class this november i am going to set something on fire
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i finished all 6 seasons of race to the edge.. supremely upset.. feeling sick to my stomach.. feeling lightheaded.. dizzy .. nauseous even.. how am i even supposed to keep living my life as if my world hasnât been changed forever i loved every single damn minute of it
#im sad im so sad#i have a sob stuck in my throat im so#this show is something SO serious to me#what the fuck#like this has been the most eventful week and a half of my life i cant ever be normal about these guys ever again#the part where heâs like âthis is dragonâs edgeâ#FUCKKKKKKK IT WAS SOOOO OVER FOR ME#:(((((((#rtte#race to the edge#jackshiccup text#man fml#maybe ill compile a list of fave eps from each season#i love it i love this show and i love the gang so much
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not me lying wide awake at 5:30am on a sunday on my day off bc after almost a full year I finally FINALLY realized the implication of the end of remember them from the cyclops saga
#that song has one of the most powerful ending crescendo sequences ive heard in maybe all of musical theater#so it. always felt incomplete after ALL that buildup during the I AM THE INFAMOOOUS#only to just drop to SILENCE. no music. no fanfare. just ODYSSEUS!#he doesnt even really sing it he just sort of... shouts it#and then its followed by the faintest sound of ocean waves#its poseidon. listening. THATS why athena said DONT#poseidon heard that declaration and came back to get him later#đŹ#i just looked up the lyrics for ruthlessness too and poseidon basically spells it out đ#ive only listened to that song once or twice tho and i guess i wasnt too focused on the words#anyway i relistened to the songs on friday and theyve been rotating in my mind like a 7/11 hotdog#the whole cyclops saga especially is just.... so so good#they truly dont make music about bashing peoples heads in like they used to#the first 3 songs of the saga especially... oof#how they blend one into the other back to back and end up making like a 10 minute narration of events#the whole thing is so bone chilling#it gets my heartrate up lol#PLUS the theme of pain and vengeance bring more pain#EVERY time polyphemus says 'what gives you a right to deal a pain so deep'#and when odysseus says 'what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of the world could learn to use'#rocking back and forth sobbing crying#remember them the next time that you DARE choose not to spare! remember them... remember us... remember me!#cant wait for everyone to turn their back on this musical in 5 yrs#like they did with hamilto.n#hamilto.n never stopped being good actually#yall are just embarrassed about being weird fanatics over people who rly existed
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the best friends ever
#ive just been thinking alot abt their friendship recently#how much trust shigeo has in dimple#and how dimple is willing to risk his life for this kid over and over#dimple tried to manipulate shigeo a lot actually#and despite that and the events of the divine tree arc he still trusts and misses dimple#đ#i like them a normal amount#sobs#they are besties#this show is my everything#im so hyperfixated good lord#yelling abt these two so the autism can calm down (i want to sleep)#yeah#mp100#mob psycho 100#mp100 fanart#mp100 art#mob psycho fanart#mob psycho 100 fanart#mp100 mob#mp100 shigeo#kageyama shigeo#shigeo kageyama#mp100 dimple#mp100 ekubo#mob psycho dimple#mob psycho ekubo#octoxicash arts#octos shitpost art#?
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A little known fact is Kaeya usually tends to cry out of frustration. Little known, because he tends to be so good at masking it and holding back when it comes to a head, with only Adelinde having been the one he felt comfortable enough to cry around, back in his youth.
Nowadays, he will adamantly refuse to cry in front of anyone, even those heâs closest to. But if one who knows him well enough might happen to witness his lashes seemingly fluttering as he rolls his eyes after a verbal bout with Diluc, theyâll know.
Theyâll know.
#hc; kaeya#//He felt comfortable w/ Addie bc he wanted to be strong for Crepus & Luc. She was safe to confide. Nowdays; he feels ashamed to w/ her#//Back as a kid; he only (genuinely out of heavy emotion) cried in front of Crepus and Diluc ONCE; each#//Him crying crocodile tears to get something out of them is a WHOLE different story. But yeah#//Crepus; after he got scolded for going to Sumeruâbc he realized then how much the man cared. Crepus realized what it meant to him; too#//With Diluc; he never once legitimately cried in front of him up until The Confrontation#//Would make faces and almost tear up; at times yeah#//But he TRULY cried only that time; and it wasnât even BECAUSE of Diluc himself#//It was because of Kaeya's Vision#//Kaeya had already only been in a bit of a spiral over Diluc lashing out & conflict of his loyalties; of Crepus' death & guilt of mourning#//But itâd been made worse by the Vision bc how was it KAEYA got to have a Vision & thus be saved from certain death by the gods#//But CREPUS; the good; kind man whoâd taken him in and been nothing but loving to him; & courageous to the end was left to DIE?#//WHY would the gods spare a SINNER and not HIM?#//It had been too much to bear and utterly broke him in that moment; his sobs more akin to screams drowned out by the downpour#//Of others heâd cried in front of; Lisa and Rosaria are the only others. And even then; it's been AWHILE since either event#//Even with the extremely vulnerable moment he had with Jean after Diluc left; he kept it together for her#//Lisa and Rosaria both caught him while drunk and his fears and frustrations (respectively) bubbled right to the surface#//Significant others/close friends will NEVER see him actually cry unless it's MASSIVELY serious. Like; genuinely life-or-death serious#//Anywho BACK to the post's actual subject#//With Diluc; ever since he's come back; Kae gets so easily frustrated with how they can't get along; even if he gets Why it's so#//But it's much rarer for him to actually get upset enough to tear up in the moment; so unless you're LOOKING for it; it goes unnoticed#//Those times tend to coincide with when he up and decides to head out early for whatever reason#//Bc he Knows he's about to break; and thus tries to get away#//It's not really that he doesn't think Luc would care; it's that he Knows the man would be utterly Awful handling it#//And thus Kae would much rather take the L and lick his own wounds alone than let Luc's rep take a hit#//He does cry a LOT more than most people think; but Diluc actually has nothing to do with it thenâit's actually over his paperwork#//It frustrates him the most of everything; esp since he'd always struggled with writing and reading; no matter the help he recieved#//In the privacy of his office compared to his lessons as a lad; he's actually able to get his frustrations out#//Which does help LOADS bc he's forced to take a break to cry it out; then continue a lot calmer after he's gotten it out of his system#//It's one of; his not his Only; healthiest coping mechanisms
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#getting diagnosed with something in mid march and not being able to see the 'correct doctor' for it till mid April is AGONY#healthcare is a shitshow globally [ik non us countries have this issue too]#its just SO---#being told you have this scary thing but being unable to talk to a specialist about it is such an AWFUL purgatory#and all i DO have is 'doctor google' who upsets me more and more every time I try to look an answer up#and is fueling my ED in a way it hasn't been fed in YEARS#i dont like it here#i dont like stress sobbing over not being able to know the food vendors for an event I'm headed to. that's not WELL behavior#vent#personal#tw ED#ETA: everywhere is also like 'stress is really bad and makes things worse for this too#BUT HOW CAN I NOT BE STRESSED WHEN IM IN LIMBO.
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ch.1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four
read until the end for an author's note.
if there was one thing you hated more than the crime-filled streets of gotham, it would be empty promises.
when was the last time they attended your birthday? or your school ceremonies? or any special event that meant for you to be the center of attention?
plot twist, there was no last time, or a time before that or any day that they were there for you.
not your eldest brother, dick, not your dead brother, jason, of course tim wouldn't be there for you, damian's absence is a given, not even your sisters would come, and most especially not your father, bruce wayne.
you never wrote wayne as your last name. in every test, it would always be your mother's last name. in every document that you had to fill, you would violently scratch in the name of your father, wishing it wasn't required at all so you wouldn't have to hang your head in shame everytime someone looks at you incredulously for having the bruce wayne as your father but never once appearing to be with you.
you can't recall a time you had called him your dad, or even considered him as one.
if you could count the times you have seen him in person, it wouldn't even fill ten fingers. even interviewers and paparazzi have more luck in coming across him than you would, his child.
it sucks, really, how despite having nearly sharing the same age as tim, you never once saw him outside of his room. you thought you would've been the closest to him, but the most you have seen him was when you were watching the news with the "new" robin popping up, or worse; when bruce would be seen guiding tim through the paparazzi and not you. alfred had to drag you away from the tv that day because you were already suffering through a panic attack just seeing those two act so close; ripping your hair out just from watching the news wasn't a good way to cope.
you remember being so jealous of him, of how bruce would always spend time with him and not you. it made you wonder, were you special enough? tim is so brilliant, you could admit. and you were, too, having enough comprehensibility as a child to find out they were vigilantes a year or two after living in the manorâ but you weren't good enough like tim. you weren't cut out to be like a detective or a fighter.
it was no wonder why bruce chose them over you.
it came to you in the form of talking to tim that had you discovering that no one ever mentions your name inside the house, proving it to be true when tim had hesitated calling your name and even stuttered through pronouncing it. and then he left after finding you were of no use to help him. alfred had to stifle your sobbing after tim left the room, allowing you to cry on his chest whilst you sat beside him.
(name) wayne was so, so lonely.
you would've accepted their absence long ago, but you were a stupid child who needed care and reassurance because your mother left you for good at the age of five. you were too naive into thinking you would receive the same love from your family just like the other kids in elementary would. you were a child who expected too highly of your father, thinking that he would pick you up from school with that picture perfect photographed smile of his and kiss your forehead and tell you that you did a great job at school today.
it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least.
it was long ago that you stopped praying for your family to attend at least one of your birthdays.
it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.
too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to. knowing nobody would celebrate birthdays with you, save for alfred, it was expected that you started to prefer cupcakes.
because then you wouldn't be scolded for making such a mess.
you never cooked family meals after the incident where nobody came and to not waste food, you had to bring in large containers to bring to school so you could celebrate your birthday there.
it was there that you find more solace in your small group of friends compared to the desolate rooms of the mansion. your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply). you only smiled weakly and hopelessly, sneaking into your room before the family dinner.
it was alfred again who bought you leftovers and sat on your bed for an hour to encourage you that there's still more christmas's to go.
you never believed what he said. not anymore.
there was a period of time where you hated them more than anything, blamed them for everything and became more rebellious, purposely failing tests, fighting your classmates and disrespecting teachers in hopes that for once your father would bat an eye on you. that only resulted in you being taken out of the school and being transferred into another, for a behavioral reform is what alfred stated to you when you annoyed him for answers.
damian started to bully you a bit more harder after that incident, calling you immature and childish, a weakling, an attention seeker. how someone at your age should've known better. you were convinced that he was relishing in the heartbroken glare you gave him, ignoring the way his eyes widened momentarily at your reaction before sneering and walking away.
alfred gently scolded you, but you were too choked up and instead you almost tripped running inside your bedroom, locking yourself in for what seems like hours.
you don't want to remember the immense breakdown you had that evening too, screaming on your blankets and destroying your things and hurting yourself because... because you had lost your old friends for nothing! your caring teachers, your academic progress, everything! every single thing for an ounce of attention! because he didn't have enough energy to come with you to the guidance counselor and he only had you transfer out so you wouldn't ruin the wayne's reputation!
you hate him, you hate bruce fucking wayne so much and you hate clinging onto their empty promises and sorry's to make it up for you. you hate how their promises were never even said directly to you, you hate how alfred was your only source of hope for a medium of communication.
you hate them all.
and worst of all, you hate yourself for drowning in hope. for wishing you were physically stronger so you could at least bond with them through training. for dreaming about a day where they could surprise you and told you they were just testing you and that you actually had worth inside this manor. for praying nightly that they'll smile at you like the heroes you see in tv rather than that of pity.
you wished there was a universe where gotham was safer, more protected with no criminals littering the streets. maybe then they would have more time to notice you crying every night, writing self destructive entries in your diary, sketching what would've been a happy family. they wouldn't have to wear their silly costumes to fight crime and instead would save you from your own demons.
if...
if you were brutally tortured and killed by the joker, or forced to choke on the fear toxin by the scarecrowâ hell, even beaten to near death by some random goons; would they have given you a sliver of their love? would they finally look at you and save you from yourself?
because despite your resentment, you would never lie and say you didn't feel blessed that you were thrown to a family of talented individuals.
your drawings of a complete and happy family holding hands together and a diary filled with rants and fantasies of spending time with them proved just that.
you were blessed with them yet cursed at the same time to never reach the same level to be even considered part of their lives.
you were hopeless. you never amounted to anything. you were just, you.
thirteen years have passed by then, and in those years you were proud to say your development as a person, albeit slow, transformed you from a child that succumbed to neglect to an independent person who managed to maintain a comfortable circle of friends, a scholarship for a college far away from gotham, and an apartment of your own (you were a bit in debt due to having to pay for your own because no way in hell would you ask for your father for financial support).
allowance was scarce, your food supplies weren't infinite compared to back when you were living at the wayne manor, and you weren't greeted to michelin star restaurant meals cooked by alfredâ but you were content, and that was enough.
though content translated to nightly breakdowns whilst finishing projects or writing essays, the point still stands! at least you had celebrated your eighteenth birthday with drunk smiles and your friends spoiling you to death when you had opened up about your first lonely years of life. everything was going well for you, truly.
you were so, so happy for the nice turn of events. and you wouldn't have made it so far if you hadn't slapped yourself out of the delusion that they actually cared for you.
look at you now! independent and with a life of your own! you'd give yourself a pat in the back.
you hadn't blocked them at all, but their contacts were empty (save for a few desperate messages that date back years ago) and you were fine with that. it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!
alfred communicates with you time to time, reminding you to eat a complete meal rather than those one dollar priced noodles that tasted like pure salt. he told you he misses you a lot, you and your annoying, daily rants about life and school. he misses your awkward smile and when you would help him cook whenever the others aren't around. he misses it when you imitate his posh accent when you taste test his food and give commentary about it.
you miss him, too. growing up, you realized just how much effort alfred would exert just to spend a lot of his time on you.
now, he told you that you are still welcome to the manor whenever, and how he cleans your room weekly in case you'll visit him.
whenever you audio call with him, you'd tear up just a bit at the realization that alfred was more of a father figure than your own biological father. because he at least attended your graduation to make up for the other times he was unable to join you.
what's even better was that he gifted you something you had always wanted for your birthday. despite it being delivered to your door rather than him giving it to you face to face (since you had refused to give him your location and him respecting that decision at least), the heartfelt letter he left you was more than enough to let you cling onto pieces of your past. after all, it was him who greeted you by the door when you were first introduced into the family, bruce being too busy with paperwork that day when you were a measly five year old.
you had started to teasingly call him 'alfie' and a few more nickname after that, which results with a chuckle over the phone every time you had come up with a cheesy name for him whenever you get a wee bit irritated at his own way of making fun of you.
if only this was your life years ago, then maybe you wouldn't have been jealous of all your other friends and pushed them away that day, maybe you would learn that sometimes, family comes in the form of the people outside of your house rather than inside.
that reminds you, maybe you should reconnect with your old friends back in elementary and apologized for your sudden explosive behavior.
you were laying on your bed, phone in hand and opened your inst*gram app to stalk through the names you could remember. well... that was what you should've done, if not for the fact that a notification popped up the very moment you pressed on the search bar and you had accidentally opened a chat with your oldest brother, dick.
you would've ignored the desperate messages you have sent him from the past which all varied from inviting him to eat dinner with you or to at least join you to play in an arcade or anything to convince him to talk to you, all of which were unseen, if not for the fact that it was him who sent you a sudden "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" message, alongside a few more replies that spammed through your phone...
oh!
... that was enough to make you sit up and want to hurl.
dick grayson was a man of many talents. the mature eldest child, the ideal good leader despite his anger issues from time to time, and the same guy who set the standards high for the future robins. he is bruce's greatest achievement.
it was safe to say that if not for the support of many, then he would've suffered so many falls and would've never been strong enough to stand up despite the pain and continue his fights. nightwing was what many superheroes strive to be, an image of light in a grove of darkness such as gotham.
so why was it that he felt like he has failed so deeply right now?
inside your room, dick stands with furrowed brows. it felt too clean to look used. your furniture was polished and look untouched, the lights were too bright and the windows were bolted shut. there were no signs of life other than the notebooks and sketchbooks that were neatly tucked on the middle of the bed and the trinkets that scatter through your desk.
dick stalks through the room, careful to not make a noise as he walks over to the closet, opening it and finding nothing.
he bites his lips at the implication that this was probably the second time he visited your room and how it was also the longest time he remained here. compared to his other siblings, you were the one he noticed the least and... now he feels bad for dismissing you.
didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago?
damn it, he was way too focused on his mission that night and ended up ditching and forgetting you! oh god, dick facepalmed and clenched his teeth, seething in some air because no fucking way did he actually remember to feed damian's dog, titus, the same day but forgot to take you out for an important event...
it occurred to him that that was the same day you scored a perfect on "the hardest test of my life!" you had bragged to him awkwardly when he wasn't listening nor looking and you, wanting to celebrate what was a small achievement for dick, chose him to spend time with you!
dick had to carefully breath through his mouth then gulp down the shame he feels right now. he- he has no time to focus on the past but rather the present. he has to find out why the hell is your room so lifeless, yeah... then he'll make it up to you today, definitely.
huh?
is it just him, but why does the room seem so small? it looked like it was meant to be for a kid. clearly, there wasn't enough space for a growing individual like you... did bruce not provide you with a bigger bedroom? ah, dick would definitely tell bruce to relocate you to a bigger room, the current one is too small for even a dog in a manor to sleep in.
dick doesn't want to admit it at all, but... he hasn't seen you for the past few months, or not all, really. sure, he had only recently visited the manor since he's bludhaven's vigilante now, but even through his time in gotham he had never seen you other than the times you pulled his sleeves from back when you were a child.
back when you were a child.
how old are you now? you were so small back then, innocent too. he can recall your curious eyes, your chubby cheeks and the way you stutter through your words as you try to talk to him.
you were significantly younger than jason, and was adopted a week before tim was introduced to the family. he remembers you peeking through alfred's back, gleaming with curiousity and whispering to the butler if it was really the dick grayson. he smiled fondly at your dumbfounded expression, the way your mouth shaped into an "ohh," when he was the one who answered that, yes, it was him. then you whispered again if you can take have an autograph from him, to which he chuckled and told alfred that he'll help accompany you to your room.
when your five year old body tried to waddle closer to his body for an ounce of warmth when he had been guiding you up the stairs, that was also the first time he called you baby bird, with the way you coddled him so closely. his hands find itself patting your head, ruffling your hair and grinning as you both make your path through the halls.
he comes to immediately regret leaving you alone after he had introduced you to your room, remembering his duties as a vigilante than that of a brother.
but despite his early memories of you, he wants to see his baby sibling all grown up now.
had it really been years?
when was the last time you ever had a full-on conversation with him?
was there even a time that he had approached you by himself?
he had always called you baby bird after the first time you meet because of the age gap you two shared. the rare times he acknowledges you, you gave him that look filled with such adoration, like you were proud of him for being your older brother. why did he not notice you?
oh, his baby bird...
dick gulped, trying to ease his shivering by sitting on your neatly folded blankets and taking a worn diary in his hand, one at the bottom stack of books. well, if it was a personal diary then maybe you would've hidden it better, right? he figures since it was all placed on the center of the bed like a piece of treasure that... it would be alright to take just a glimpse.
to confirm if you still see him as your favorite brother.
dick's heartbeat spiked, hoping your entries would be filled with, he doesn't know, anything that didn't implicate some sort of hatred for the family, for him. hoping that despite his lack of attention towards you, that there would still be a spark of love for him. if what he thinks was actually true then... he doesn't know what to do with himself.
he flips through the first page, noting how it was bulkier than the others. the paper was filled with glittery decorations, sequence beads and cheap stickers sparkling at every angle the light hits. it was meant to be a design for the 'front cover' of the notebook, colors blended in a cacophony of rainbows and butterflies and flowers beyond the messy calligraphy that merely states "(name)'s diary!"
dick stifles a grin just from skimming through at the amount of mistakes and erasures, clearly written by the the younger version of you; naive to the world and its cruelty. he commends your creativity, his eyes softening at the few doodles that were written on the corners of the pages.
you're just too adorable for your own good, so much so that the thumping in dick's heart beats louder and louder, ears wringing uncomfortable inside your unventilated bedroom. but he just couldn't rip his eyes away from the diary, daydreaming about how proud you must've been when designing your own diary. he could picture your wide eyes, shy and harmless, and your feet kicking back and forth whilst you decorate your stuff.
everything was what he expected it to be on the first few pages of the diary. all your little rants about your daily life, your eargerness to meet your entire family from your father's side, and the hurt you experienced from your mother's sudden abandonment.
he would've skipped through another diary, one that lacked design and color, save for the name plastered on the front, if not for the grim undertones at every end of your entries despite the child-like manner it was written in.
it all started with "i wish to see my father soon and my big brother dick again!", "alfred told me my father can't come to the parent-teacher conference, he says he's in a veryyy important meeting :( but alfred would come!", "dick told me he can't help me with my science project but he promise he'll help me with something else later!" which halfway through the diary, your style fluctuates and lesser effort was exhausted on the writing.
one entry in particular, written on the last page of your diary, shattered a sliver of hope within dick, his breathing momentarily ceased from reading through your sentences; uncharacteristic of you, too mature for someone at the age of ten to write.
"XX/XX/XXXX.
dear diary, it's my tenth birthday today. i celebrated with my friends at school. they told me i always look down whenever it's my birthday. they think that bruce would throw a fancy celebration for me. i tried to hide my laughter from them. it's a really funny joke. i haven't seen him for months. i told dick that he was invited but i don't think he remembers it's my birthday today. alfred told me to come out of my room, he said he cooked my favorite dinner, that he's sorry he got my present late, but i don't want get out of my room. i heard dick is gonna watch a movie with tim later. i don't feel so good, my chest hurts, but i don't want to get out right now.
i'll eat the cupcake tomorrow."
it had been nearly two hours since dick had sat on your bed, eyes dilating whilst reading through your first diary. the cold season had already pricked his skin, but his entire body felt so unnaturally warm, a warmth that scorches him, searing deep into flesh. a lump had form in his throat, accompanying the hellish throbbing of his heart.
"fuck..." he brought his fingers to his head, carefully massaging his forehead but it relieves nothing. he wants to see you right nowâ he needs to talk to you. god, he has to apologize, he needs to see what you look like right now, needs to know if you're alright.
you're clearly not.
he has to oppress the urge to punch the walls, reminding himself that it's your room he's in and if he damages your already delicate property, then he's proving himself worse than he already is.
he rushes to grab another diary, the one at the top of the pile, skipping to the end of the page.
nothing. all the entries were months ago, all written in vague detail like you were starting to hide secrets. his teeth grinds against each other, frustration seeping through his veins.
he needs toâ shit, he needs to find you right now. he needs to find his baby bird and make up for the all bullshit him and his family had done. if you were gone for months, even years; he doesn't even want to think about it.
but how?!
there were no signs of you. anything written your diary, your drawings, the trinkets on your bedside tableâ they signal no clues whatsoever, all dating back to months, even years. it's not possible at all, for nobody to notice your disappearance. dick would've noticed sooner. he should've noticed sooner. oh, he doesn't even want to think about the dangers that await you outside the mansion. with how naive you were about the outside world, you wouldn't last at all.
his baby bird wouldn't survive gotham's streets, especially not when winter was nearing.
think, grayson, think...
his phone!
he immediately reaches into his pockets to grab his phone, clammy fingers swifly encoding his password and opening his contacts.
your number was the quickest to find, it was the only one without an icon of you and an endearing nickname. he makes a mental note to change that soon and replaced your default name to your nickname.
then, without hesitation, he typed, "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" sending the message without rereading, foot tapping impatiently against the floor as he scrolls through all your previous messages.
messages that he should've replied to with the same level of enthusiasm as you. skimming through the past, unseen texts as your motivation began to dwindle the further he refused to reply back. he promises he'll never make you feel invisible again.
seconds feel like hours for him, as he blows raspberries to pass the time, too concentrated an ounce of a reply to even notice the entirely new presence inside the room.
it's alright to call you, yes? after all, dick just wanted to check in with his baby bird and see if you're doing swell and dandy and... safe without him...!
his thumbs pressed on the call button before he could think through his actions, his other hand runs through his hair, sweat running down his forehead as if he had ran a marathon.
he waited, and waited, and waited until the call beeped and provided its automated response. he calls you again but the line immediately cuts off, he tries to spam you with more messages but they weren't delivered.
you blocked him.
fuck, he messed up big time. he needs to get to the batcave. he needs to find your fucking location before it's too late. dick needs to see you again before he loses it.
but before he could carefully place your sketchbooks back to its rightful place, he sees a silhouette at the corner of his eyes; short figure, arms crossed, and a sneer on his eyes already tells him who it was.
damian wayne.
he forgot to train with damian today.
but it doesn't matter, damian has to see it for himselfâ what made dick so disheveled, so delirious. damian has to finally see just how much of a wonderful sibling you are.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: this was 4,600+ words and it drained the energy out of me. it was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i was too motivated !! i'm also quite proud of this chapter. it was a pain characterizing dick grayson and the reader. i really hope this is as good as the prequel because it's 3am right now and writing dick's part was a pain in the ass ^^' as always, please do comment or send asks if you like it for quicker updates!!!
taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @alishii, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @deadinside-09, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa (shoutout to her specifically because i got motivated from their comment!)
#đˇ... yael's works#đ§... yael's misc.#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere dick grayson#yandere dick grayson x reader#yandere batboys#yandere robin#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#platonic yandere#i hope for this to blow up again like the other one#is it obvious that i like writing angst
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Baby Steps
Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader
Summary: you are barely staying afloat, desperately trying to wrap your mind around your impending motherhood while juggling being a press officer for Scuderia Ferrari ⌠Charles shows you that you donât have to do it alone
Warnings: pregnancy, family abandonment, and harassment
You grip the edges of the trash can tightly as your stomach lurches again. The half-digested remains of your breakfast spill into the plastic liner with a sickening splatter. Straightening up slowly, you take a few deep breaths and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The smell rising from the can makes your stomach roll threateningly once more.
Turning away quickly, you lean against the side of the Ferrari motorhome, eyes closed. The sun beats down relentlessly, and you can feel sweat beading at your hairline.
This âmorningâ sickness is no joke â it seems to strike at all hours of the day. You thought you had gotten away with a quick breakfast break an hour ago when Carlos was in a team briefing, but apparently not.
Footsteps on the gravel make you open your eyes. You pray itâs not a member of the press, or, god forbid, Carlos. The last thing you need is a photo of the Ferrari press officer tossing her cookies behind the paddock. But no, itâs Charles Leclerc striding towards you, his brow furrowed.
You straighten up and attempt nonchalance. âGood morning, Charles.â
He slows, glancing between you and the extremely obvious trash can of vomit. âAre you alright?â
âOh, yeah, fine,â you say breezily. âJust a bit of food poisoning, I think. Had a questionable chicken salad for dinner yesterday.â
You notice Charles is wearing a soft grey t-shirt and track pants, his hair damp from the shower. He must have just finished with physiotherapy. He looks so effortlessly handsome, itâs frankly unfair. You suddenly feel acutely aware of the sheen of sweat on your face and your limbs heavy with fatigue.
Charlesâ face remains creased in concern. âFood poisoning? Have you been to the medical center?â
You wave a hand. âOh, Iâm sure itâs nothing. Probably just 24 hours of hell before Iâm back to normal.â You attempt a smile, but have to grab the trash can again as the smell from it hits you like a wave.
Charles springs forward and grabs your arm as you retch miserably. âWhoa, take it easy,â he says, supporting you until the heaving subsides.
You stay hunched over, breathing hard. The world is spinning a little. You hear Charles say firmly, âOkay, come with me. Letâs get you sat down.â
He keeps a hand under your arm and leads you into the blessedly cool motorhome. The rich scent of coffee fills the interior, reminding you that you havenât managed to keep any food down today. You sink gratefully onto a padded bench at one of the tables.
Charles sits opposite you, his green eyes studying you intently. âWhen did the sickness start?â
You sigh, shoulders slumping. The jig is up. âAbout four weeks ago,â you mutter.
Understanding dawns on Charlesâ face. âOh. Oh!â His eyes flick down to your still-flat stomach. âSo youâre ...â
âPregnant. Yes.â You drop your head into your hands.
âWell, hey, congratulations,â says Charles gently. âThatâs really exciting.â
You huff out something between a sob and a laugh. âExciting? More like a nightmare!â You run your fingers back through your hair and look desperately at Charles. âYou canât tell anyone, okay? Not even Carlos. I canât risk anyone finding out about this. If I lose this job ...â
Charlesâ brows draw together again. âWhy would you lose your job? Youâre Carlosâ press officer. Iâm sure heâd be thrilled for you.â
You shake your head rapidly. âNo, no way. I canât take time off. The season just started! Carlos needs me, I organize everything for him. The travel, the events, the media, everything!â You bite your lip anxiously. âMaybe ⌠maybe after the baby comes, I can figure something out. But I have to keep this quiet until then. Please.â
Charles reaches over and lays a hand on your arm. His touch is gentle but firm. âY/N. Working yourself into the ground wonât be good for you or the baby. Have you thought about taking a sabbatical? Just a few months to rest, focus on yourself.â
Panic flares in your chest. âNo! No, I canât.â Your breathing quickens. âYou donât understand â I have no one else. No partner. No family. This job is everything. If I lose it ...â You trail off, trying to blink back the sting of tears.
Charles is silent for a long moment. Then he says, âOkay. I understand this is your decision. And I promise I wonât tell Carlos or anyone else.â He hesitates. âBut Y/N, please take care of yourself. Donât be afraid to ask for help.â
You nod jerkily and avoid his earnest gaze. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet. The motorhome tilts sickeningly for a second.
Charles rises too, watching you with concern. âWill you be alright?â
You nod, not trusting your voice. You start to head deeper into the motorhome, desperate to lie down before the nausea returns.
âY/N,â Charles calls after you softly. You pause, glancing back. âCongratulations again. Youâre going to be a wonderful mother.â He gives you a small, warm smile.
You swallow hard. âThank you, Charles,â you whisper. Then you turn and continue on unsteadily, one hand braced against the wall.
You make it to the small office that passes for your private quarters on race weekends. Collapsing onto the ergonomic desk chair, you stare up at the ceiling and place a hand over your still-flat belly.
A baby.
Your baby.
Fear and wonder tangle inside you.
You must have dozed off, because the next thing you know a hand is gently shaking your shoulder. You jerk awake to find Carlos standing over you, his eyebrows drawn with concern.
âY/N? Are you ill?â
You stand up too quickly and immediately regret it as the room spins. Carlos grabs your shoulder to steady you.
âIâm fine,â you say hoarsely. âJust needed a quick nap.â
Carlos frowns, clearly unconvinced. âCharles said you were throwing up outside. That you have food poisoning?â
You make a mental note to kill Charles later. âUh, yeah. Bad chicken salad, I think. But Iâll be okay.â You attempt a reassuring smile.
Carlos sits down on the edge of your desk, watching you closely. âWhy didnât you tell me you were unwell? You know you donât have to worry about me, I can look after myself for one day.â His dark brown eyes are filled with worry.
Guilt twists your gut. Carlos has always been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful, a rarity in the high stakes world of Formula 1. You hate lying to him.
âI know,â you say quietly. âI just didnât want to let you down. But youâre right, I should have said something. Iâm sorry.â
Carlos shakes his head immediately. âNo, donât be sorry. Just focus on feeling better, yes? Take tomorrow off too. I order you to rest,â he adds with a small grin.
You smile weakly back. âOkay, boss.â
Carlos stands and gestures to the tiny table bolted to the wall. âI brought you some tea and crackers. Hopefully you can keep it down.â
âThank you. I really appreciate you checking on me.â
He smiles. âOf course. Feel better, Y/N.â With a last lingering look of concern, he turns and leaves you in peace.
You look at the steaming tea and crackers and feel tears prick your eyes again. Carlos is a good man. Too good, probably, for the pragmatic demands of Formula 1. You know you should tell him about the pregnancy. But the thought of losing your place here, on this team, fills you with dread.
This high stakes world of racing is all youâve known for the past three years. You canât imagine life outside the bubble of the paddock, away from the adrenaline and pressure. Away from the team. Away from Carlos. Away from Charles.
With a deep breath, you sit up straight and tear open the crackers. You need to think about this rationally. Maybe Charles is right and you do need to slow down eventually. But for now, for the next few months at least, you have to keep going like nothing has changed.
You place a hand on your stomach as you nibble a cracker. âItâs gonna be okay, little one,â you whisper. âWeâll figure this out.â
***
The smell of coffee turns your stomach these days, but you still make your way blearily to the breakfast buffet each morning. Carlos is an early riser, and you need to be available whenever he is ready to start the day. You scan the offerings, deciding toast is the safest option, and reach for a couple of dry slices.
âOh, Y/N!â
You turn to see Charles holding out a pre-packaged parfait cup. âI grabbed an extra yogurt by mistake. Do you want it?â
You hesitate. Your first instinct is suspicion â this is the third time this week Charles has âaccidentallyâ had an extra snack to offer you. But the yogurt does look appealing ...
âSure, thanks,â you say, taking the cup from him. Charles shoots you a smile before grabbing a plate and continuing down the buffet.
You sit down next to Carlos with your toast and yogurt. He glances up from his phone. âMorning. Feeling better today?â
You nod, mouth full. In truth, the nausea has continued, but youâve gotten better at hiding it from Carlos and powered through.
Charles joins you both a few minutes later, greeted by Carlos with a fist bump. You peel open your yogurt while half-listening to the two men discuss the upcoming practices.
The sweet, fruity parfait is cool and soothing on your sensitive stomach. You find yourself polishing it off in record time. As you scrape the last bit of yogurt from the bottom, you realize Charles is watching you.
âGood?â He asks.
You lick the plastic spoon clean before answering. âYeah, really hit the spot, thanks.â
Charlesâ eyes crinkle with a smile. âNo problem. Iâll try to grab two tomorrow.â
You feel your smile grow fixed. This is getting ridiculous. Charles Leclerc does not care this much about your yogurt preferences. Heâs up to something.
Over the next week, Charlesâ thoughtfulness continues. A cold bottle of water when youâre looking hot and tired. A sandwich from a local bakery when you missed lunch. Your favorite chocolate bar when you mention a craving in passing. Always with an innocent smile, as if heâs not playing Superman to your pretend Lois Lane.
It all comes to a head on race day. Youâre in the scorching sun on the grid, already feeling the fatigue of the hectic weekend. Carlos is doing his pre-race routine, so your attention has lapsed. Suddenly a blessedly cold bottle of water appears in front of your face. You look up to see Charles grinning down at you.
âStay hydrated,â he says with a wink.
That does it. âOkay, enough!â You snap, smacking the water bottle away. It falls to the ground with a thud, water glugging out.
Charlesâ eyes go wide with shock. âY/N?â
Grabbing his arm, you pull Charles several steps away from eavesdropping mechanics. âWhy are you doing this?â You hiss. âI donât need you to baby me!â
âWhat?â Charles looks completely bewildered. âIâm just trying to help-â
âWell, stop,â you interrupt sharply. The hurt on Charlesâ face makes you falter, but you press on. âI donât need your pity. Iâm fine.â
âPity?â Charles frowns. âItâs not pity, Y/N. I care about you.â He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. âYouâre always taking care of everyone around you. Now you need someone to take care of you too.â
His kind words hit you like a gut punch. Oh God, the stupid hormones! You feel hot tears spring to your eyes.
Charlesâ alarmed expression softens. âHey, I didnât mean to upset you ...â He pulls you into a hug. One hand smoothes your hair while the other rubs comforting circles on your back.
âShh, itâs alright,â he murmurs. You cling to him, embarrassed by your raw emotional response but unable to stop the tears.
After a minute the wave passes. You pull back, wiping your eyes. âSorry. I donât know whatâs wrong with me.â
Charles smiles kindly. âNothing is wrong with you. But I understand this is a difficult time.â His expression turns serious. âIf you ever need anything, please ask me. Iâm here for you.â
Looking up into Charlesâ earnest green eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude. Whatever awkwardness lingers between you has evaporated. Charles is a true friend.
You squeeze his hand. âThank you. That means a lot.â Glancing around, you notice some odd looks from passing crew members. âWe should probably get back to work before people think thereâs a full-blown soap opera going on over here.â
Charles grins. âAgreed. But this conversation isnât over. Dinner tonight in my room?â He raises an eyebrow.
You laugh, blinking away the last dampness from your eyes. âItâs a date.â
***
You smooth your hands down your dress as you approach Charlesâ hotel suite, suddenly feeling nervous. Youâve been in driversâ rooms countless times for work, but this feels different. More intimate.
You take a steadying breath and knock. Charles opens the door, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp button down shirt.
âY/N! Come in.â He steps back to allow you inside.
The suite is spacious and modern, with floor to ceiling windows along one wall looking out over the glittering city. Charles leads you through the living area to a set of glass doors. âI thought we could eat out on the balcony,â he explains, opening the doors with a flourish. âThe fresh air will be good for you and baby.â
You step outside and have to stifle a gasp. A small table is elegantly set for two, a vase of flowers in the center. String lights twinkle overhead. âCharles, this is beautiful!â
He looks pleased. âIâm glad you like it.â Pulling out a chair, he gestures for you to sit.
As he takes the seat opposite you, you notice several covered dishes on the table. Charles sees you looking and smiles a bit sheepishly. âI, uh, called my mother earlier.â
You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Charles rubs the back of his neck. âI asked her what foods she craved when she was pregnant with me and my brother. So I ordered a bunch of that from room service, in hopes there might be something youâd like.â
A lump forms in your throat. You reach over and squeeze his hand. âCharles, that is so incredibly thoughtful.â
Pink tinges his tanned cheeks. âOf course. I want to take care of you.â
You chat comfortably over food and Charlesâ excellent choice of wine for you â sparkling grape juice. He relaxes as you praise the chicken and melon he ordered.
When you sit back contentedly, Charles fixes you with a thoughtful look. âSo, do you know how far along you are?â
You hesitate. âAbout three months now.â
He nods. âAnd have you been to a doctor yet?â
Your fingers find a groove in the wooden table to trace. âNot yet.â At his surprised look, you add defensively, âIâve just been so busy with work. But Iâm sure everything is fine.â
âStill, you should make an appointment soon. Just to be safe.â Charlesâ tone is gentle.
You nod without meeting his eye. An uncomfortable beat passes.
âDo you ...â Charles pauses delicately. âForgive me, but ⌠do you know who the father is?â
Your cheeks flame. You stand abruptly, walking over to the balcony railing. After a moment Charles joins you, leaning on the rail at your side.
âIâm sorry, that was too personal,â he says quietly.
You shake your head. âItâs okay. I just ...â You glance up at him. âHeâs no longer in my life.â You look away, a lump in your throat.
Charles doesnât ask anything more, just moves closer in a gesture of silent support. You stand together breathing in the night air. The twinkling city sprawls before you. For a moment, the future doesnât feel quite so frightening.
Eventually you stifle a yawn behind your hand. Charles glances over. âYou must be exhausted. I should let you get to bed.â
You smile gratefully. He walks you to the door of the suite. Pausing, you stand on tiptoes and kiss Charles lightly on the cheek. âThank you again for dinner. For everything.â
His eyes shine as he gazes down at you. âOf course. Sweet dreams, Y/N. And ...â He brushes a feather-light touch over your belly. âSweet dreams to you too, little one.â
You feel your heart melt just a little. With a last smile, you head down the hall to the elevators. As the doors slide closed, you catch one last glimpse of Charles watching after you.
Back in your smaller, blander room, you change for bed in a happy haze. Sliding between cool sheets, you let out a contented sigh. Tonight was lovely. Charlesâ thoughtfulness reminds you there are still good people in the world. For the first time in weeks, you feel a spark of hope.
You drift off to sleep with a hand resting gently on your belly. Everything seems less frightening now that you arenât alone. Whatever happens next, you and your baby will get through it together.
***
The buzz of the media pen is giving you a headache today. Or maybe thatâs just the pregnancy. You blink heavily, trying to focus on Carlos speaking into the microphone in front of you. You hit record on your phone as he answers the first question. Itâs your job to capture every word to ensure heâs not misrepresented later.
The reporterâs voice fades in and out. You sway slightly, shaking your head. Just need some fresh air. You take a step away from the crowd, vision blurring at the edges. Dark spots dance across your eyes. The concrete floor rushes up to meet you-
âY/N!â
Strong hands grab your shoulders, slowing your collapse. Your head spins as you try to make sense of it.
âY/N, can you hear me?â Charlesâ worried face swims into view above you. You part your lips but no words come out.
Thereâs loud commotion around you now. You feel yourself being shifted, lifted. Snatches of Charlesâ voice pierce through the fog.
âSheâs pregnant ... get help ... ambulance ...â
You try to cling to consciousness but itâs like grasping at smoke. The world goes dark.
When you resurface, itâs to antiseptic white walls and a steady beeping. Hospital. An IV pulls at your arm as you shift.
âY/N?â Charles appears at your side, relief breaking across his face. âThank God. Youâre awake.â
Before you can respond, heâs disappeared again, calling for a doctor. You try to push yourself more upright but your limbs feel like lead.
A brisk older woman in a white coat enters, glancing at the monitor beside your bed. âGood to see you awake, Miss Y/L/N. You gave us quite a scare.â
âWhat happened?â Your voice comes out hoarse.
âYou fainted from low blood pressure. A common issue in pregnancy, but yours seems to be more severe.â The doctor flips through your chart with a frown.
Charles stands anxiously at the foot of the bed. âBut sheâll be alright now?â
The doctor hesitates. âIâm recommending complete pelvic rest and limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. Strictly no standing or walking for prolonged periods.â She pins you with a sharp look. âAnd if your blood pressure drops again, weâll have no choice but to put you on full bed rest.â
Your stomach drops through the floor. âWhat? No, I canât! I have to keep working, I-â
âY/N.â Charlesâ voice stops your panicked rambling. His face is lined with concern as he takes your hand. âYour health is what matters most.â
The doctor nods briskly. âPrecisely. No job is worth risking your or your babyâs safety.â With a final warning look, she departs.
The moment she leaves, you burst into tears. Harsh, gasping sobs wrack your frame. This is a disaster. Without being able to stand or walk for long stretches, youâre useless to the team. Youâll be fired for sure. And then what will you do? You have no one, no other skills-
Warm, strong arms wrap around you as you weep. Charles cradles you against his chest, making low soothing sounds.
âShh, itâs going to be alright,â he murmurs, stroking your hair. âWeâll figure this out.â
You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, burying your face in the soft cotton. The steady thump of his heartbeat slowly calms your hysteria.
When the tears finally subside, Charles eases you gently back against the pillows. His thumbs brush away the moisture from your cheeks.
âI know youâre scared,â he says quietly. âBut I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. We are in this together now.â
His green eyes radiate such sincerity, you feel some of the panic and despair lift. You cling tightly to his hand, anchoring yourself to him like heâs a rock in a stormy sea.
***
You pick listlessly at the greyish meat and mushy vegetables on your hospital dinner tray. At least Charles had the foresight to sneak in some contraband snacks earlier â you polish off the last crumbs of the cookies he brought, wishing futilely for something more appetizing.
A knock at the door precedes Charles peeking in. âHungry for something better than hospital food?â He holds up a paper takeout bag and shakes it enticingly.
You brighten immediately. âCharles, youâre my hero.â
He laughs and enters, pulling a table over your lap to serve as a makeshift dining surface. Soon plastic containers of pasta, salad, and fresh bread are opened, the savory scents making your mouth water.
Charles watches fondly as you tuck in. âI wasnât sure what youâd feel up to eating. But who doesnât like Italian food?â
You make a noise of emphatic agreement through your full mouth. Charles chuckles.
When you finally surface for air, he clears his throat. âSo I was thinking ...â Charles busies himself folding and refolding your napkin. âMy apartment in Monaco is pretty big for just me. And it has a guest room thatâs just sitting empty.â
You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.
âWell ...â Charles rubs the back of his neck. âI thought maybe when youâre discharged, you could come stay with me for a while. So I can make sure youâre not overexerting yourself.â
You frown slightly. âOh. Thatâs really kind, but Iâll be fine once Iâm out of here.â
âWill you?â Charles levels you with a knowing look. âNo offense, but youâre not exactly the best at asking for help when you need it.â
You open your mouth to protest, but canât really argue with that.
âLet me do this for you. For my own peace of mind too,â Charles implores gently. He takes your hand, blue eyes full of sincerity. âPlease?â
Looking into his earnest face, you feel your weak resistance faltering. Still ... âI donât want to be a burden,â you mumble half-heartedly.
Charles squeezes your hand. âYou could never be. I care about you, Y/N.â His thumb brushes over your knuckles. âI want to take care of you and the baby.â
The warmth in his voice melts away the last of your reluctance. And honestly, the prospect of having Charles doting on you is far preferable to being alone in your small, dreary apartment.
You meet his hopeful gaze. âOkay. If youâre sure you donât mind, then ⌠I accept your kind offer.â
Charlesâ answering smile rivals the sun. âYeah? Oh, thatâs fantastic!â He sweeps you into an enthusiastic but gentle hug. You cling to him, feeling the nervous knot thatâs been your constant companion for weeks finally start to loosen. Everything will work out.
That night as Charles is leaving, you call his name softly. He pauses, one hand on the door.
You twist your fingers in the blanket, suddenly shy. âI just wanted to say ⌠thank you. For everything. Iâll find a way to repay you someday, I promise.â
Charlesâ expression softens. He comes back and squeezes your hand. âYou donât owe me anything. Just focus on yourself and that little one.â He strokes a finger over your belly. âThatâs all the repayment I need.â
With a last smile, he slips out, leaving you to fall asleep with a heart full of gratitude and growing affection for your kind rescuer.
***
You smooth your hands nervously over your dress as you approach Fred Vasseurâs office. This is it. Time to tell your boss that youâll be leaving him in the lurch smack dab in the middle of the season.
Charles gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. âIt will be okay. Just explain the situation.â
You take a deep breath and nod. Charles opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.
Fred rises from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his face. âY/N, Charles. What can I do for you?â His gaze darts between you curiously.
Your mouth goes dry. Charles gently guides you to sit in one of the chairs facing Fred, taking the other himself.
âY/N has something she needs to discuss with you,â Charles begins calmly. âIâm here for moral support.â
Fredâs eyebrows raise but he nods for you to go on. Your hands twist together in your lap.
âWell, I ...â You have to pause and swallow hard. âI recently learned that Iâm pregnant. And Iâve developed some, uh, complications that mean I canât travel or be on my feet much.â
Fredâs eyebrows climb higher. âI ⌠see. Congratulations?â He still looks perplexed.
Charles jumps in. âWhat sheâs trying to say is, she needs to take a leave of absence. Doctorâs orders.â
âAh.â Understanding settles on Fredâs face. He turns back to you. âIâm very sorry to hear youâre unwell. Of course health must come first.â
You feel yourself relax slightly. âSo I can take a sabbatical? My job will still be here when Iâm able to return?â
âAbsolutely.â Fred nods. âYouâve been invaluable to our team. Your role will be waiting whenever youâre ready.â
You could cry with relief. âOh, thank you! That means the world.â
Fred smiles kindly. âThink nothing of it. Focus on your health and that baby. Weâll manage in the meantime.â
Charles reaches over to clasp your hand supportively. âIs there anything else she needs to know before starting her leave?â
Fred considers this. âY/N will have full pay during sabbatical, of course. And keep me posted on any support you require â medical, household, anything at all.â
You clutch Charlesâ hand, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiles. âVery generous. We appreciate that greatly.â
After finalizing a few details, you both stand. Fred comes around the desk to shake your hand. âBest of luck with everything. Let me know if you need absolutely anything.â
You whisper a heartfelt thank you before allowing Charles to guide you out. Safely in the hallway, you turn and fling your arms around him.
âCharles, thank you,â you murmur into his shoulder. âI couldnât have done this without you.â
His strong arms come around you, cradling you close. âOf course, Y/N. I meant what I said â Iâll be by your side every step of the way.â
You cling to each other for a long moment, his steadfast support washing away your lingering fears. As long as Charles is with you, you know everything will work out just fine.
***
You fidget in the generic mint-colored exam room, paper crinkling beneath you as you perch on the edge of the table. Charles sits in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone, the picture of calm. You wish you shared his zen attitude.
A brisk knock precedes the door swinging open. A smiling older woman enters, glancing down at her chart.
âY/N? Iâm Dr. Boucher, nice to meet you.â Her smile widens as she looks between you and Charles. âAnd you must be the dad! Wonderful.â
Your mouth drops open to correct her, but Charles beats you to it. âThatâs right, thank you,â he says easily, standing to shake the doctorâs hand.
You snap your mouth shut, eyes widening. But the doctor has already moved on, washing her hands at the sink.
âNow then, letâs take a look at this baby, shall we?â She pats the exam table.
You lie back, hiking up your shirt to expose your belly. The cool gel makes you shiver as the doctor smears it over your skin. She places the ultrasound wand low on your abdomen and moves it slowly.
The screen blooms to life, blurred black and white shifting until a shape emerges â a tiny profile, curled arms and legs distinct. You gasp softly. Thereâs your baby.
Dr. Boucher smiles. âThere we are. Looks to be about 16 weeks along. Growing beautifully.â
You canât tear your eyes away from the screen. Your throat feels tight. After so many weeks of secrecy and fear, this precious little life finally seems real.
âAnd thereâs the heartbeat.â The doctor turns up the volume, and a rapid thumping fills the room. âNice and strong.â
Tears spill over your cheeks before you can stop them. A glance over shows Charles watching the monitor intently, green eyes shiny with emotion. He reaches for your hand, gripping tightly.
When the appointment ends, you both exit the office in a daze. As you walk down the street to Charlesâ car, he turns to you.
âThat was ⌠incredible,â he says softly. âSeeing your baby for the first time ...â He trails off, at a loss for words.
You lift his hand and press a kiss to the back, hoping he understands the depth of your gratitude. Charles smiles tenderly in return.
Safely home in Charlesâ plush apartment, you curl up together on the sofa with mugs of tea to continue gazing at the ultrasound photos. Charles slips an arm around your shoulders, his thumb idly stroking your arm as you chatter excitedly about preparing a nursery.
This moment, here with Charles, your childâs heartbeat still echoing in your ears ⌠itâs the closest thing to pure joy youâve ever known. The future finally feels bright with hope. You lean into Charlesâ warmth and send up a silent prayer of thanks for this man and the new life heâs given back to you.
***
You curl deeper into the plush couch in Charlesâ apartment, cradling your mug of tea. Rain patters against the windows overlooking Monacoâs glittering harbor. The cozy scene makes you feel safe enough to finally open up.
âCharles?â
He glances over from where heâs poking at the fire. âHmm?â
You twist your fingers together nervously. âThereâs more I should tell you. About how I got pregnant.â
Charles rises and comes to sit beside you, face open and attentive. Taking a deep breath, you begin.
âIt happened last winter, during the off-season. I went back home to Italy for a while, to the little town outside Milan where my family lives.â
You stare into your tea, remembering. âThere was a man vacationing there, from Rome. Dario. We met in a cafe and just ⌠clicked. He was handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman.â Your lips twist wryly. âOr so I thought.â
Charles remains quiet, letting you gather the words.
âWe spent every day together for two weeks. Took long walks, went on romantic dinners. When it was time for him to leave, we ...â You trail off, face warming.
âYou made love,â Charles supplies gently. You nod, still not meeting his eyes.
âI thought it meant as much to him as to me. But after he went back to Rome, his texts and calls slowly stopped. And then I found out why.â
Your voice drops to a pained whisper. âHe was married. His âbusiness tripâ was just a chance to fool around. When his wife saw my texts on his phone ⌠it exploded. And then my family found out about the affair.â
Finally you lift your head. Charlesâ face is lined with compassion. âThey disowned me. Called me a fool and a harlot. It didnât matter that I was lied to â as far as theyâre concerned, I brought shame upon our family.â
Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Charles immediately pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back.
âIâm so sorry,â he murmurs. âYou did nothing wrong. This Dario took advantage of you, and your family should have supported you.â
Charles holds you until the storm of tears passes. When you finally pull back, he cups your face in both hands, brushing away the lingering moisture with his thumbs.
âThank you for telling me,â he says softly. âI know that wasnât easy. Youâre so incredibly strong.â
Leaning forward, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. Then his palms slide down to cradle your rounded belly.
âIâve got you now,â Charles murmurs. âBoth of you. Youâll never be alone again.â
Nestled in his lap, you close your eyes and just breathe. The remnants of hurt and betrayal wash away, replaced by the safety of Charlesâ embrace. Whatever comes next, you have found your sanctuary here, with him.
***
You wander through the apartment looking for Charles, one hand braced on your lower back. Your belly has popped noticeably in the last couple weeks, throwing your balance off.
Not finding Charles in any of the usual spots, you head down the hall towards the spare bedroom. When you push open the door, your jaw drops.
The room has been completely transformed. Bright sunshine spills through the windows onto whitewashed walls. A plush rug covers the hardwood floor. In one corner sits a fully assembled crib, stuffed animals piled inside.
Charles stands back to admire his work, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair adorably mussed. He turns when you gasp softly.
âY/N! I wanted to surprise you.â His grin falters. âDo you like it?â
âLike it? Charles, I love it!â You blink back happy tears, wandering further inside. Charlesâ face lights up.
âI wasnât sure what color to paint, so I left the walls white for now,â he explains, coming over to slip an arm around you.
You lean into him, gazing around. âItâs perfect. Our baby is so lucky to have you.â
Pink tinges Charlesâ cheeks. He kisses the top of your head. âIâm the lucky one.â
You decide on a pale green for the walls. Charles immediately fetches paint supplies, but hovers anxiously as you start rolling color onto the first wall.
âAre you sure you should be doing this?â He eyes your protruding stomach. âThe fumes canât be good ...â
You wave off his concern. âIâll be fine! Here-â You dip a roller in paint and offer it out. âMake yourself useful instead of worrying.â
Charles accepts the roller reluctantly. Soon youâre both working side by side. Charles takes on the higher parts of the walls that you canât comfortably reach anymore.
Humming under your breath, you step back to critique your work so far. As you do, your foot catches on the paint tray and you stumble. Charles reaches out to steady you, but not before a fat drop of paint lands on his cheek.
âOops!â You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh at the green splotch on his tanned skin.
Charles narrows his eyes in mock indignation. âYou think thatâs funny, do you?â Before you can react, he flicks his loaded paintbrush at you, spattering your shirt.
You gasp in delighted outrage. âOh, it is on!â Grabbing your roller, you swipe it down his arm.
Charles lets out a laugh of surprise. Soon paint is flying from both directions. You run around each other, giggling and slipping on the drops coating the floor.
Finally Charles catches you gently by the waist. Youâre both absolutely covered in pale green, sides aching from laughter. Your faces are inches apart, smiles fading into something more tender.
Slowly, Charles leans in and presses his lips to yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. You melt against him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.
When you finally part, Charles rests his forehead against yours. âIâve wanted to do that for a while,â he confesses, a little breathless.
You smile, heart soaring. âWhat took you so long?â
His answering grin outshines the sun. There, surrounded by dreams of the future, you share another lingering kiss.
***
You settle back against the mountain of pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for your unwieldy body. At nearly 8 months along now, your belly feels impossibly huge. Luckily Charlesâ plush bed offers plenty of space to sprawl.
Speaking of Charles, he appears in the doorway holding a bottle. âReady for your massage?â
You eye the bottle of oil eagerly. The stretch marks crisscrossing your stomach have been itchy and tight. âYes please.â
Charles props up pillows behind you so youâre half-reclining. Then he drizzles some of the oil into his palms, warming it up before smoothing his hands over your bump.
You sigh in bliss at his gentle but firm touch. The fragrant oil soothes and softens your irritated skin. Under Charlesâ ministrations, the discomfort slowly ebbs away.
His strong hands glide over every inch, easing out the aches and pains. As Charles works, he murmurs to your belly. âThere you go, little one. Weâre going to make your home nice and cozy.â
Your heart clenches at the tender scene. Even after all these months of living together, it still sometimes hits you how domestic this is. Sharing a home, sharing a bed ⌠itâs everything you secretly longed for but never expected to have. A real family.
You trail your fingers through Charlesâ soft waves. His eyes lift to meet yours, soft with affection. The look on his face steals your breath â pure adoration, like youâre the most precious thing in his world.
âI love you.â The words slip out unbidden. Charlesâ hands still. For a heartbeat, youâre afraid youâve said too much.
But then he surges up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. âI love you too,â Charles whispers fiercely when you finally break apart, both panting. âSo much.â
He seals his words with another drugging kiss. Your hands clutch him close, heart near bursting with joy.
Suddenly Charles breaks the kiss with a gasp. His wide eyes dart down. âDid you feel that?â
You start to shake your head no, distracted by the sensation of his calloused hands massaging your belly, but then you feel it â a distinct thump against your insides. Your baby shifting and kicking.
Charlesâ face lights up. âThere it is again!â He laughs in wonder. âThe little one is saying hello.â
Happy tears blur your vision. Charles presses a delighted kiss to your stomach. âI canât wait to meet you,â he whispers tenderly.
Through your tears, you smile at the man you love. The one who gave you and your child a home when you had nothing. However you got here, this is exactly where youâre meant to be.
***
A dull ache starts low in your back as you crawl into bed. You shift and stretch, trying to get comfortable, but canât seem to. Charles notices your restlessness.
âAlright?â He murmurs sleepily, rolling over to rub your back.
You nod. âYeah, just some back pain today.â Probably from lugging around this massive belly.
Charles makes soothing noises and continues massaging you until he drifts off. You finally manage to doze too.
Sometime in the night, you jerk awake. The sheets under you are soaked. For one confused moment you think you wet the bed. But then it hits you.
Your water broke.
âCharles!â You shake his shoulder urgently.
He comes awake with a snort. âHuh? Whatâs wrong?â
âItâs time! The baby-â You break off with a hiss as the first real contraction clenches your belly.
That wakes Charles up fully. âThe baby? Itâs coming?â He practically falls out of bed, all long limbs flailing.
You have to stifle an inappropriate giggle at his panic. âYes, so we should-â Your instructions die as Charles sprints from the room. Alright then.
You shake your head in amusement and heave yourself to your feet, one hand braced on your lower back. Waddling slowly after Charles, you find him hyperactively rushing around the living room, tossing items randomly into your hospital bag.
âOkay, letâs go!â He grabs the overflowing bag and dashes out the front door. You stare after him in disbelief then lower yourself carefully onto the couch to wait.
Not thirty seconds later, Charles comes barreling back inside. âOh God, I forgot you!â
You have to laugh at the panic on his face. âItâs okay. Just breathe.â
Looking marginally calmer, he helps you up, frantically gathering your bag in one hand while keeping the other wrapped around you.
You lean your weight on him during the next contraction, breathing through it. âItâs okay. But we should really go now.â
Charles practically carries you down to the garage and bundles you into his Ferrari in record time. He drives well over the speed limit, one hand clutching yours the whole way.
At the hospital, Charles refuses to leave your side even for a second. He holds the gas and air for you to breathe during contractions, whispering how strong and amazing you are.
When the time comes to push, the pain is unimaginable. You nearly give up, sobbing that you canât do this. But Charles is there, guiding you through it, telling you that you absolutely can. And with one final scream, your son enters the world.
The shrill cry is the most beautiful sound youâve ever heard. Charles cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then the nurse lays your wailing, squirmy son on your chest.
You press kisses to his downy head, tears of joy streaming down your face. Charles gazes at you both with pure reverence.
âHis name is Matteo Charles,â you whisper. Charles lets out a choked sob at the middle name.
Too soon, the nurses take Matteo for cleaning and checks. One asks Charles if heâd like to hold him. Charles looks to you questioningly, and you nod through your exhaustion.
Charles settles into a chair, shirtless, and Matteo is laid on his bare chest. Charles strokes a gentle finger over Matteoâs cheek, seemingly enraptured.
âThank you,â he rasps to you. âFor our beautiful boy. Thank you, mon amour.â
This is everything you never knew you needed â a family, a home, and an overflowing love you once thought would forever be lost to you. But youâve found it now, here in this room, together.
***
The sharp cries jolt you from sleep. With a groan, you roll out of the warm circle of Charlesâ arms. Your body still aches and protests as you make your way to the nursery in the dark.
Picking up little Matteo, you carry him to the rocker and situate him at your breast. He latches on eagerly, cries fading to soft snuffles.
Charles appears in the doorway, hair adorably mussed. âEverything okay?â He asks through a yawn.
âWeâre good now.â You smile tiredly down at your nursing son. His downy hair and scrunched features are all you â you find yourself thankful that there is barely any indication that his biological father even participated in making him.
Charles comes to perch on the ottoman, watching Matteo. âI canât believe heâs really here,â he murmurs. âOur son.â
Pride swells in your chest. Charles has fully embraced his role as Matteoâs father, as naturally as breathing.
When Matteo finishes eating, Charles takes him to gently pat his back while you right your nightgown. He kisses your sonâs head when Matteo lets out a tiny burp.
Back in bed, you curl into Charles with Matteo nestled safely between you. Charles has a race this weekend, his first since the birth. The thought of him leaving fills you with anxiety.
In the morning, Charles confirms your fears. âIâll just tell Fred Iâm not coming this weekend,â he says casually over breakfast. âThe team will manage without me. One of the reserve drivers can take over for a few days.â
Your head jerks up. âWhat? No, Charles, you have to race.â
âBut I donât want to leave you two!â Charles gestures helplessly to where Matteo snoozes in a bouncer.
You catch Charlesâ hand. âThis is your dream. Matteo and I will be right here cheering you on when you get back.â
Charles wavers. You soften your voice. âItâs only for a little while. Weâll be okay.â
Finally he nods reluctantly. You know how hard this is for him â but Charles was born to race. You wonât let him give that up.
The morning Charles is set to fly out, he clings to you and Matteo like a second skin. You practically have to peel him off at airport security.
âIâll be back so soon,â he whispers fiercely. One last kiss, and then heâs gone.
The apartment feels empty and too quiet. But you fill the time singing and playing with Matteo, keeping yourself busy until the race.
You and Matteo cuddle close on the couch to watch Charles zoom around the track. Your heart swells with love and pride seeing your man do what he was meant to.
When Charles wins, he shouts his ecstatic thanks to you and Matteo over the team radio. The podium champagne gets sprayed directly into the camera for you.
Finally Charles is home, sweeping you and Matteo into his arms. âI love you both so much,â he murmurs in wonder. You whisper it right back, nestled safe in the arms of your little family.
***
The energy in the Albert Park paddock is electric as teams prepare for the first race of the 2025 season. You feel a thrill just being back, Matteo cooing happily in your arms. At nearly six months old now, heâs ready for his first race.
Charles bounces on his toes, unable to contain his excitement. âAre you ready to see Papa race, Matteo?â He tickles Matteoâs belly, eliciting bubbly giggles.
You head first to the Ferrari garage, where the mechanics crowd around eagerly to fawn over Matteo. Lewis gives you a careful hug, peering curiously at the baby.
âLewis, meet Matteo,â Charles says proudly. At Lewisâ questioning look, he adds âMy son.â The way he says it brooks no argument.
Lewisâ eyes widen slightly but he just smiles. âHi Matteo!â He offers a finger for Matteo to grip.
Fred comes over next, cooing over how much Matteo has grown. You enjoy the familial atmosphere, everyone fussing over your boy. Matteo basks in the attention.
Charles takes him down to the front of the garage to watch the crews work on the cars. He points out parts of the sleek machines, explaining them seriously to Matteo as if he understands. Matteo just gazes adoringly up at his Papa.
When Charles finally straps into the car for practice, you have ear muffs ready for Matteoâs sensitive ears. Charles blows kisses to you both before pulling on his helmet. Matteo squeals and waves his little fist as the car roars out.
In the hotel that night, you set Matteo on the bed while Charles showers. Stripped down to his diaper, your son kicks his chubby legs excitedly.
Charles emerges in comfy clothes, his hair still damp, and laughs at Matteoâs antics. âAlright, my little race car driver, time for bed.â
He tickles Matteoâs tummy as he puts on a fresh diaper and snaps up his pajamas. Then Charles cradles Matteo close, humming softly as he sways back and forth to soothe him. Your heart clenches at the tender scene.
Once Matteo is deeply asleep, Charles lays him gently in the travel crib. He turns to you with a soft smile. âI canât imagine life without him now.â
You slip your arms around Charles from behind. âHe loves his Papa so much already. Your biggest fan.â
Charles covers your hands with his, gazing at Matteo. âIâm going to win tomorrow for him.â
And he does. On the podium, Charles looks down to where you cradle Matteo in one arm, and gently showers you with champagne. Matteoâs delighted laughter is the sweetest sound.
This is everything youâve ever wanted.
***
The energetic buzz of the Italian Grand Prix washes over you as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles, your son cradled safely in his arms. At nearly a year old now, Matteo is fascinated by the vivid colors and cacophony of sounds surrounding him.
Charles playfully bounces Matteo as you weave through the crowded walkways, pointing out the sights and sounds. âLook Matteo, thereâs the cars! Vroom vroom!â Charles mimics the roar of an engine. Matteoâs delighted giggle melts your heart. You canât help but grin, chest swelling with love and pride for your little family.
Youâve just about reached the looming Ferrari motorhome when an absolutely venomous female voice shrieks out, âYou!â
Every muscle in your body instantly tenses. You freeze mid-step, heart lurching into your throat. Whipping your head around, you see an immaculately dressed woman barreling directly towards you, her face mottled an ugly shade of rage-induced crimson.
âYou disgusting harlot!â The woman spits with unrestrained fury. âYou filthy whore!â
Stunned, you instinctively take a faltering step backwards, nearly stumbling. Charlesâ strong arm immediately wraps protectively around you and Matteo, steadying you. His body angles partly in front of yours and Matteoâs smaller form, shielding you both on pure instinct.
The deranged woman continues her tirade, advancing until sheâs nearly screaming in your face. âOh, I know exactly who you are, you reprehensible little homewrecker!â
Before you can even begin to formulate a response, a ghost from your past suddenly materializes behind the enraged woman. A man you hoped to never lay eyes on again.
His eyes blow wide at the sight of you, Charles, and the infant cradled against Charlesâ chest.
The woman â his wife, you realize with dawning horror â grabs viciously onto his arm, her razor-sharp nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped gouges. âJust look at her!â She shrieks, spit flying from her mouth. âParading that little bastard child around like itâs something to be proud of!â She violently thrusts her finger towards Matteo, still safely ensconced in Charlesâ embrace.
Your son, sensing the onslaught of hostile energy, immediately begins wailing in distress. You instinctively reach out to take him from Charles, desperate to comfort your frightened boy. But Charles subtly shifts his stance, moving further out of her reach, as he focuses intently on gently bouncing and shushing Matteo in an attempt to calm him.
Matteoâs biological father simply stares, slack-jawed, at the sobbing infant. The gears visibly turn in his head. âIs that ...â he chokes out, âIs he ⌠mine?â
âNo.â Charlesâ immediate response is biting and unequivocal. He clutches Matteo tighter to his chest. âMatteo is my son.â Though his voice remains steady, you can see a muscle in his jaw ticking from the effort of holding back more heated words.
But Dario clearly does not accept this response. His eyes narrow calculatingly as he continues scrutinizing the wailing baby. Behind him, his unhinged wife keeps up her tirade of slurs and accusations, whipping the gathering crowd into greater frenzy.
You feel lightheaded, paralyzed. This is a living nightmare. Distantly you are aware of camera phones pointed your way, capturing every wretched moment. Charles seems to realize the same, his handsome face darkening with rage.
With frightening efficiency, Charles strides directly over to the nearest paddock security officers and has a brief, terse exchange. Moments later, two bulky guards firmly take hold of the still-screaming woman and shellshocked man, forcefully escorting them away. The crowd reluctantly disperses, murmuring.
Charles immediately returns to envelope you and Matteo in a fiercely protective embrace. âItâs alright now, youâre both safe,â he soothes, though his rapid heartbeat belies his calm words. Matteoâs panicked sobs have faded to tiny hiccups against Charlesâ neck.
The rest of the chaotic day passes in a blur. Much later, in the privacy of your hotel room, Charles reveals that he pulled every string and called in every favor necessary to have Dario and his deranged wife permanently blacklisted from all Formula 1 events.
His voice shakes with quiet rage as he describes how close security came to needing to restrain him physically.
Finally he takes your face so very gently in his hands. âI promise you, I will do anything and everything to protect our family. You and Matteo are my entire world. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as Iâm breathing.â
Overwhelmed with gratitude, you collapse against his solid chest. Charlesâ strong arms anchor you in place as you cling to him. He continues murmuring fervent assurances, pressing kisses to your hair.
Despite the ugliness of the day, you know with utter certainty Charles will shield you and Matteo from the darkness of your past. Your family is still perfection in your eyes.
***
âPapa, I wanna be a race car driver like you when I grow up!â
Your five-year-old son looks up at Charles with big, adoring eyes as he makes this pronouncement over breakfast one morning.
Charles freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He slowly sets it down, gazing at Matteo with surprise and pride. âYou do?â
Matteo bobs his curly head eagerly. âYeah! I wanna drive fast cars and win like you! Can you teach me?â
Charles melts, ruffling Matteoâs hair. âOf course, buddy. Weâll have to convince your maman first though.â He shoots you a meaningful look.
You shift uncertainly. Of course you want to encourage Matteoâs interests, but motorsport is dangerous ...
Charles seems to sense your hesitation. âWhy donât you think about it, mon amour? No need to decide yet.â He winks at Matteo, who grins in excitement.
Over the next few days, your two boys put on a full court press to sway you. Charles points out safety advances in karting and helps Matteo make adorable PowerPoint slides with photos of your son in race helmets. They both unleash heartbreaking puppy dog eyes.
Finally you cave. âAlright!â You laugh, holding up your hands in surrender. âYou can start teaching him the basics.â
Matteo and Charles high-five so hard it makes a cracking sound. âYesss!â Charles pumps his fists while Matteo dances in glee. Seeing their matching enthusiasm melts away the last of your reluctance. Your little daredevil was born for this.
The next weekend, Charles takes Matteo to a racetrack an hour outside the city. Itâs just a small circuit, but Matteo gazes around with wide eyes, gripping Charlesâ hand tightly.
Charles shows him the karts and safety gear, patiently explaining how everything works. Then itâs time. Charles helps strap Matteo into a kart made for kids, snugging his helmet gently under the chin.
âReady, mon petit champion?â
Matteo gives him a thumbs up, practically vibrating with excitement. Charles grins and drops the visor down. âAlright! Letâs do this!â
He gives Matteo a little push to get the kart rolling onto the track. Your son quickly gets the hang of working the gas and brakes. Charles jogs alongside, gesturing and calling out instructions.
Gradually he lets Matteo take full control. Your little boy zips around the course, hair blowing out the back of his helmet. His delighted laughter echoes around the circuit.
Watching from the sidelines, Charles records it all on his phone, face alight with joy and pride. âThatâs it Matteo, youâre doing amazing!â He cheers.
This is only the beginning. But seeing the utter bliss on both their faces, you know Matteo has chosen the right path. The Leclerc legacy will live on.
***
âIâm here in the pit lane with Charles Leclerc on the momentous day his son, Matteo Leclerc, makes his highly anticipated debut with Scuderia Ferrari. Charles, you must be incredibly proud right now.â
The Sky Sports reporter holds her mic out to Charles as he stands, beaming, in front of the scarlet Ferrari garage. Charles nods, looking slightly choked up.
âIncredibly proud doesnât even begin to cover it,â he replies earnestly. âThis has been Matteoâs dream since he was just a little boy. To see him achieve it, to be standing here watching him drive for the team I devoted my life to ⌠itâs indescribable.â
Charles pauses, glancing over fondly at where you stand with Matteo, straightening your sonâs helmet and race suit.
âHis mother and I, weâve worried and experienced every up and down along the way with him. But Matteo has worked so hard for this, never gave up even when it seemed impossible. He more than deserves today.â
The reporter smiles. âAnd his last name isnât the only way he takes after you. Matteo is widely considered your protĂŠgĂŠ after you mentored him through the junior ranks.â
âI taught him everything I could,â Charles acknowledges. âBut his talent and dedication are all his own. Matteo is his own man now. I canât wait to see how high he continues to climb.â
âAny advice youâve given him before his first race with Ferrari?â
Charles chuckles. âJust to enjoy every second. This only comes around once.â He looks off into the distance, eyes crinkling nostalgically.
âStill seems like yesterday I was in his shoes for my own Ferrari debut. Iâll never forget that feeling.â
The reporter wraps up the interview and Charles makes his way over to where you and 21-year-old Matteo are embracing. Charlesâ eyes shine with unshed tears as he clasps arms with his son.
âIâm so proud of you,â Charles says hoarsely. âYour mother and I both. Now go show the world what you can do.â
Matteoâs answering smile is blinding. âIâll make you proud, Papa.â
He hugs you tight, then pulls on his helmet and strides confidently to his waiting Ferrari. The mechanics cheer as the car roars to life and Matteo peels out onto the track, on the cusp of achieving his lifelong dream.
You cling to Charlesâ side, waving tearfully. âOur little boy,â you whisper in awe.
Charles wraps an arm around you, never taking his eyes off the bright red car. âHeâs all grown up. But heâll always be our son.â
No matter how high Matteo climbs, Charles knows he will always remain his sweet little boy â the bright-eyed child you and Charles raised with love.
His greatest source of pride and joy as the future beckons brightly, another generation of Leclercs carrying the hopes of Ferrari forward.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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i wonât let you go â satoru gojo
contains â
satoru x gn!reader, established relationship, angst to fluff, petnames (baby, love, babe, etc.), 1k wc. ďž requested for my milestone event.
event m.list â
jjk m.list
ever since you and satoru have started dating, you heard a lot of gossip and side talks from people around you about how he's never been faithful to any of his past lovers, how he lets them go after less than six months, saying that he no longer finds them interesting, that he's done being with them, how he's never truly loved and probably never will be able to love anyone. that he's a selfish man who's nothing but a player who toys with people's hearts then tosses them away when it's all over. and youâre no exception, as itâs only a matter of time before you meet the same fate as them.
he'll let you go and forget about you as if you two have never met, because satoru gojo is incapable of loving anyone.
however, you pay no attention to these words. and even if what they say is true, you still refuse to believe that it's anything but mere nonsense. and decide to fully trust satoru like you always do.
because the satoru you know and love, the man you're dating right now, your loving boyfriend, is deeply and madly in love with you. the way he kisses you ever so passionately, how he whispers the sweetest of love words to you all the time, and how he holds you in his arms tightly every night as you doze off to sleep listening to his heartbeat. no way he's leaving you, is it? you're certain of that. after all, he's promised that he'll always love you, that he'll never leave your side no matter what, that he'll never let you be alone without him. because he can't live without you.
he finds comfort in you, you're his home as he claims. and you feel the same way about him, you can't live without him either.
although, you try your best to brush these thoughts off. you can't help but wonder if it's true that he'll let you go the same way he did with the ones before you, that he'll break all these promises about being together forever.
unaware, you let these thoughts consume you as you slowly drown in sorrow.
your head starts spinning as you begin imagining the moment he breaks it down for you that he's leaving, that he no longer wants to be with you, that he's done with you. and your stomach is instantly clenched in a knot. you feel a painful pang in your heart as it gets heavier and heavier by the second.
just when youâre about to get completely lost in your thoughts, you feel a soft touch on your shoulder. you turn around and itâs none other than satoru. he cheekily smiles at you, but his cheerful expression quickly changes into a concerned, panicked one the second you start crying.
ââŚtoru.â you sniffle as you start sobbing uncontrollably, hot tears begin to overflow out of your now red eyes like how water flows from an overfilled cup. he rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb caresses your skin delicately as he leans in. he presses feather like kisses on your face and eyes, gently kissing your salty tears away.
âwhyâs my baby cryinâ? whatâs wrong, love?â he questions, his tone is a mix of tenderness and concern. a worried look is shown in his ocean blue eyes, it pains him tremendously seeing your teary eyes and sad face, he simply canât stand it.
you blink, eyelashes wet from crying so much. and you pause momentarily, hesitant to let the words come out of your mouth.
âi just⌠thought about you possibly.. leaving me alone and..â you utter in between your sniffles, lips slightly twitching. satoru doesnât let you continue and cuts you off mid sentence.
what you donât know is, satoru needs you far more than you need him. you're the only one who loves him for who he is as just an ordinary human and not the strongest, you allow him to be himself freely without any restrictions, he doesn't have to fake anything around you. and most importantly, youâre the one whoâs introduced him to love, youâve shown him what itâs like to truly love someone. so leaving you has never been an option to him. the thought has never crossed his mind, not even once.
"babe listen, âkay?â he speaks tenderly as he rests his other hand on your cheek, cupping your face in his big hands as he brings you closer to him. eyes pierced on one another, locked in an unwavering gaze, as if you're staring into one another's soul.
âno way iâm leavinâ you, not now, not ever. so don't think about that anymore, 'kay? weâre stuck together for life." he reassures you, the tone of his voice is so soft and sweet, yet affirmative and serious. he then slightly brushes his nose against yours and it tickles you a little before his hands let go of your face, only to pull you in his arms instead. your eyes widen for a split second before you rest your head gently against his broad, well toned chest. your hands grip the back of his shirt tightly, holding onto him for dear life as you steady yourself listening to his calming heartbeat. his slender fingers delicately run through your hair while pressing a series of quick, loving pecks on the top of your head.
he smiles the moment he feels you relax in his embrace. to satoru, you being in his arms as he feels your warmth against his skin is everything heâs ever needed. as long as youâre here with him, thatâs more than enough for him, he doesnât need anything or anyone else.
âi wonât let you go.â he whispers ever so softly against your ear, his voice rings in your ears like a sweet melody. and you hum quietly, smiling against his chest as your eyes slowly shut in relief. you let yourself trust him once more as his earnest words wash over the little doubts that have been there.
đđ taglist: @sylusdoll @stunies @itoshivy @hanaeriin @spkyssn @17020 @kalsplace
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo angst#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x you#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo satoru#satoru gojo
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TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, step cest, none of reader's holes are safe
fem reader
Thinking about step-daddy who only married your mom to get closer to you... who thinks an unruly brat like yourself needs his firm hands and teachings to set you on the right course.
You can't believe whatâs happening â canât believe his words.
Your mind is caught in a frenzied state of denial and panic as he forces you down on your bed after you'd told him to get the fuck out of your room when he walked in on you getting dressed to go out, standing there in only a dainty set of panties.
You brace your hands against his broad chest as he bears down on you â trying to create space for you to breathe but achieving little else than if youâd been trying to lift a mountain.
Heâs too big and too heavy â too strong.
He doesnât even bother restraining your fists â not even when you start banging them against him. Itâs as if he doesnât even recognize the assault â busy burying his face in your cute cleavage, nuzzling the soft mounds with sloppy kisses and his bearded chin.
âStop it!â You hic through tears â sobbing now that the pursuing events dawn on you, coming crashing down, wreaking through your brittle head at the feeling of your panties being tugged down your thighs â flimsy lace splintering before getting ripped off.
He disrupts your cry with a firm hand, taking hold of your chin â and you fall still in wait.Â
âYou' gonna let Daddy eat your pretty pussy out if you know what's good for youâŚâ His lips brush yours with the vile threat while his other hand cups your bare cunt â whispering ruggedly, âOr I might just have to put you over my knee.â
Youâre frozen beneath him â eyes shimmering with gloss, staring up into his impossibly dark stare â feeling leveled under the burden of his threat.
âWhatâs it gonna be, sweetpea? Yâgonna behave for Daddy? Or am I gonna have to use my belt on you?â
You stay still, and he takes it as your answer â smiling at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek.Â
âThatâs Daddyâs good girl~â
Leaning back, he wrings his shirt off over his shoulders, revealing his bulky chest of curls and worn skin before throwing the article aside and looking back down at you with drunken eyes that give you shivers. His old muscles are flecked with age but no less brutal to behold â all intimidating enough to make you swallow thickly.
âYou can cry out all you like, pretty girl~â He grins as he takes your thighs in his hands â lifting them, spreading them, then pushing them flat down against your chest â tipping your cunt up to his mouth. "A good girl knows how to scream." His breath is ticklish on your exposed sex. âBut the only words I wanna hear come out of your mouth is â yes please, daddy â more please, daddy â and pretty please, daddy, can I cum?â
You whine when he licks a stripe through your folds â dark eyes glinting at the sound, chuckling hotly under his breath.
âWalkinâ âround my house dressed up like a little slut â teasinâ me all day long.â He gruffs. âTch â this pretty cuntâs gonna get what youâve been begginâ for, and youâre gonna take it with a smile â understand that, little lady?â
Your toes are immediately curled, gripping the air for purchase as he buries his face in your muff. And heâs messy with it â spitting, then slurping it up again â splitting the lips to suck your clit, then pressing a deep kiss into it â tongue flatly running over the pearl, lapping at it like a dog. All with a heated glare â hungry like a starved animal â eagerly set on your face.
You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it, lip caught between teeth â trying to stifle all moans.
But the folded position he has you in presses you free of air â soon leaving you to pant out like a silly bitch in heat â thighs wanting to squeeze shut but kept pinned and trembling in the harsh grip he has on them.
âOh~ look at yah~ my little slut~â He hums between licks, a grin still slickly plastered on his face â mustache glistening with drool and arousal. âMust feel good to make you tremble like that â does my little girl wanna cum?â
You whine, trying to shake your head in denial â but the pressure builds whether you want it to or not â squeezing tight like a fist in your gut, desperate to unknot.
âBetter ask for Daddyâs permission, or I won't be happy.â He adds, giving your thighs a pinch â hard enough to make you yelp â sure to leave bruises.
âAh â no.â
You donât want it â you curl your head to the side with a grimace.
You feel gross â reeling as his tongue circles your hotspot, unable to deny the tickle in your gut â recognizing the blossoming, knowing youâd soon bloom.
âMgh," You whine. "Yes, please! I need â can I please cum?!â
âCall me Daddy.â He demands, talking into your cunt while nuzzling his nose against your clit.
âPlease, Daddy â please, can I cum!â
Another chuckle makes you shake â almost impatiently â before he purrs, âSure, baby â go ahead â make a mess~âÂ
He gives your clit one last harsh suck before sticking his tongue inside you, deep with a grin, while feeling you tremor on it, tasting your sweet release like it was a victory.
You throw your head back and your chest up â whole body quaking â trembling at the thrill pulsing from your core, zipping along each limb â leaving you feeling cottony and numb from the pleasure.
You pant with softer moans when it dissipates â still feeling twitchy.
Hooded eyes with teary lashes fall from the ceiling to his face â then regret it.
The shame washes away all pleasure â making your sweat go cold.
But if he sees it, he doesnât care. âThat was beautiful, baby girl~â He moans instead, eyes still keenly set on you.
You cringe, chagrined as he kisses your slit once more â tonguing the slick opening and humming at the sweet taste.
He finishes you with a sharp kitten lick flicking off at your clit â then releases your thighs. Pulling you with him as he got up on his feet by the edge of your bed.
âCâmere â on your knees.â His fist wraps your hair â tugging your head back. âOpen wide and tongue out foâme. It's my turn.â
Your brows cinch, feeling your scalp sting from the grip, making you timidly obey.
He groans at the pretty sight â looking so cute with that dewy glow on your cheeks â plush lips wet and welcoming â pink tongue trembling in eager wait of him.
Sighing with a leer, âSuch a pretty little thing~â His other hand zips down his fly, pinched free the button, and let the baggy slacks drop to the floor.
Thicker tears pool in your eyes â a horrid burn of humiliation making your tongue feel heavy, kneeling beneath him with your mouth gaping â knowing what was coming.
âThis is what you wanted, right â why you've been acting like such a brat?â He pulls your face against the pudgy bulge in his boxer â warm and thick beneath the black fabric with a ripe smell of musk. âYou wanna be Daddyâs big fat cock to satisfy all your greedy little holes, hm?â
You donât close your mouth â the fist ripping your strands from their roots was warning enough to keep you pliant.
âCome on then, little slut~â He started cooing, nudging the sack against your tongue, dipping inside the warm opening. âShow me how much you want it â and donât look away.â The smile on his face made your guts fold. âI wanna see those pretty eyes beg for it.â
He gives your hair a sharper tug, forcing out a whine from your throat. It spurs him on, making him chuckle â watching your eyes tremble up at him â struggling against his bulbous crotch, cuddling it so cutely, making him twitch.
Rasping out, âSuch a needy little whore~â while his other hand dragged the band down.
Your mouth sealed closed on instinct â eyes too â shutting tightly once his cock sprung free. Whimpering when feeling it slug on your face â you tried to turn your head away â but was kept close by the hand fisting your hair.
âBad girl, I told you to keep your mouth open and your eyes on me.â He sneered, pinching your cheeks open with the other hand â hard enough to make you wince.
You peeled your eyes open again â with tears slipping down your face as you dropped your jaw for him again.
âPlaying games like a snotty brat.â He hissed, rubbing his leaky cockhead over your parted lips â smearing his pre on them like lipstick while you shuddered. âLook at you now, mmh~ such a good girl for Daddy~ taking it on your knees.â
He dabbed himself on your tongue, and you had to keep yourself from retching â tasting the bitter salt.
âMmh~ begging for it like an eager little cum-junkie~â He groaned, lolling forward, cock sliding over the bed of your tongue and hitting the back of your throat in a soft kiss â only with half his veiny shaft in your mouth.
He licked his lips and threw his head back.
âI knew you just needed a firm grip â knew youâd make the most perfect little slut foâme~â
You gagged when he started thrusting, hands positioning themselves on his sturdy thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he stuffed your mouth full of his length â weighty balls clapping against your chin where spit started frothing.
He held your jaw in guidance â keeping you steady to receive him.
Throaty moans grated your ears as he abused the wet warmth â looking down at you and how you struggled, unable to take all of him. It didnât bother him, though â the tight ring of your lips sucking along his veins was enough to make him go crazy.
It felt so right to be throat-fucking your pretty little face; he couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner â creating such a cute mess all over you â looking so hot on your knees for him like this, with spit and pre cum slicking your face like a young prostitute in the making.
You obeyed as best you could â not used to the size or tempo. You'd given few blowjobs before and never been facefucked. But you figured the sooner you could make him cum, the sooner all this would be over.
He thought about it, too. He could cum down your throat like this, make you swallow â drink his seed like a good whore should.
But the idea is soon replaced by the thought of stuffing your sweet cunt instead â feed your womb his hot load â wear your tight pussy like it was tailored just for him.
He popped out of your mouth, and you coughed before heaving for air â panting â nearly barreling over if it hadnât been for the grip he still had around your hair.Â
Pulling you up by it â his other hand found your throat, and your mouth was taken by his â kissed hungrily with teeth pulling at your lip while tickled by his facial hair.
âMh- câmere,â He groaned into your mouth â plopping himself down on the mattress while pulling you along by the neck. âUp on my Daddyâs lap, baby.â
He continues kissing you, with both hands slipping down to squeeze each asscheek, rolling your hips back and forth on him, making your wet cunt grind against the stiff underside of his cock.
You canât help but make a noise as it licks your sensitive clit, rubbing over it in wet warm strokes. You balance yourself against his chest â hands placed on his muscles â pushing yourself up from slacking against him.
Youâre still breathless, left gasping â too weak to fight it when he leans after you, mouth on your tits, sucking your nipples into hardened little peaks.
Your hands go to the hair atop his head, gripping the locks to steady yourself.
He chuckles at the pull, looking up at you while rasping out a filthy âIs my little girl excited to get her little pussy stuffed by Daddyâs cock?â with a lazy grin carved on his face.
And before you can deny it, heâs already confirming the statement.
âYou must be â your little cunt is so fucking wet for it.â He cheered. Hand slipping between you to slap his thickness against your slit â rubbing himself between the lips with a mocking pout on his lips. âThis poor little pussy, cock-starved and empty~ I know, I know, you want to cum on Daddyâs cock, donât you?â
He lifts your ass up so that youâre hovering over the tip â using the other hand to angle it against your entrance.
Purring, âDonât worry, baby~ finally gonna stretch you out nice and tight~ fuck you into size like a proper cock-toy~Â fill you up with my hot cum~â
You shake your head and squirm when he begins to nudge the head inside â but both hands place themselves back on your hips, gripping them firmly enough for it to find purchase.
âThere we go, ease on down it, baby~ get comfortable~â He coos, even though youâre sinking your nails into the tough muscles of his chest â gasping at the ill sting of the stretch as he pushes you down despite the tight resistance. âOh, fuuuck â so wet and snug on me~â He sucks his teeth, snapping his hips up to bottom out deeply. âTake all of me, now~ let Daddy bottom out~â
His head hangs back â Adamâs apple bobbing up with his mouth hung wide in a silent moan while you wince â desperately wanting to lift off.Â
But he keeps you seated â tensely made to cock-warm him while slowly adjusting to the size â taunt walls rippling along his veins, sucking on it as it settles inside you, molding you to accept its shape.
He squares his jaw, then gives a breathy hum that makes his beard dance â lifting his head to look at where heâs got himself sheathed to the hilt â his eyes lost in it as he sets a slow pace â using both hands to steer your hips, rocking you back and forth with barely any lift to relieve you â keeping himself lodged just as deep â cozily kneading your cervix.
âThatâs a good pussy right there â wet and tight and all mine.â He groans, lolling you on him sweetly. âIsn't that right, baby? This pretty pussy belongs to Daddy, doesnât it?â
He watches your perky tits jiggle for him. Leaning forward, he gives it a suckling wet pop.
âEvery inch of this slutâs body belongs to Daddy, isnât that right, little one?â He demands a little harsher, threatening the nipple between his teeth.
âYe-yesâŚâ You whimper.Â
Itâs been a while since youâve been stretched like that â itâs been a while since your insides have been given any attention at all. When you do it for yourself, you mostly just settle for playing with your clit â happy with one orgasm to take the edge off.
This is touching on more nerves â lighting other fires â different wells â tapping all sources â youâre leaking juices all over him, practically sopping, sucking him in â all but your head overly ecstatic for the attention.
âYou wanna cum again â donât you, my little slut?â He murmurs knowingly, giving your ass a harsh slap while pressing his forehead against yours.
He groans as he picks up the pace â dragging a moan out from your chest.
You want to deny it again like before â but the pleasure allows little else than to be appreciated with heavy shuddering breaths.
âRemember the rules, sweetie. Better beg permission, or youâll be punished.â He warns.
You spot a grin forming on his lips â sharp like a knife â before uttering the next words.
âBetter say, please let me cum on your big fat cock, Daddy~â
You scowl, trying to sneer, âFuh-fuck youâŚâ but your voice weakens to a whine.
Still, itâs unacceptable.
âThatâs not how you speak to your Daddy. Bad slut.â A harder slap cracks across your ass â this time, making you yelp.
Your hair is pulled before you recover â and youâre thrown off his lap. Placed with your knees on the floor and your face in the warm and sweaty seat heâd just been sitting.
He stands above you â using a hand to pin your wrists to the small of your back while another hard smack is given to your already throbbing rear.
âIf your pussy wonât follow the rulesâŚâ He licks his lips, looking down at the sight of you bent over beneath him, sobbing fat tears from the abuse. âThen this ass is next in line.â
You flinch with the words, eyes going wide. âWhat?â Already shuffling uneasily, gasping once his heavy hand came back to pet the welted cheek, branded with his handprint, giving it a firm squeeze that had you wince.
âIt seems you donât understand whoâs in charge hereâŚâ He chided, with a coarse finger settling on the untouched rosebud slicked in pussy-juice, rubbing it slow and steady. âBut I bet fucking your tight virgin ass is gonna make that crystal clear.â
âNo â please no-â You plead, jostling weakly with your remaining strength â but the digit enters you anyway.
âOh, Iâm sorry, sweetheart, but itâs too late to beg now â you gotta take your punishment,â He dismisses, digging knuckle-deep inside your butthole. âBut to be honest with youâŚÂ I was hoping youâd bite back like that.â He gruffs eerily at your ear. âI dream about putting your bratty ass in its proper place every night.âÂ
His finger twists and curls inside the hole, loosening it a little before skewering another two in.Â
âMake you cry as I turn you into a good little butt-slut for me â get this sweet hole to gape for my cock to fill it up.â
He puts you in a headlock after pulling his three fingers out of your stretched opening â letting go of your wrists in favor of reaching under you to play with your pussy as he bullies his bulbous cockhead into the tight ring while you cry. With nails biting into your palms and your poor gushing cunt clenching around nothing.
He enters slowly, giving it shallow thrusts to fuck it open before feeding it another fat inch. Rubbing your clit between gritty fingers as he sinks inside you â burying his shaft within the snug walls of your tight ass as your hole gives in to his size, swallowing him up until heâs kissing your stomach with his heavy balls squeezed flush against your cunt.
âThere you go, my little anal slut~ Thatâs Daddyâs brat getting taught her place!â He gives your butt another firm slap as he starts dragging out and stuffing you right back up again. âGetting her naughty ass spanked and propped with cock like a little whore~â
The fat arm squeezing your neck and the fingers swirling your clit make your head cloudy â even as your ass screams from the pounding, your cunt begs for the attention â milking nothing as it weeps with slick, running down your thighs into a little pool where you kneel.
âAah- DaddyâŚâ You moan through a sob. âPleaseâŚâ Whimpering while you throttle his cock with your taunt ass, all but fucking yourself back on his shaft as he keeps rubbing your clit in steady patterns that have your cunt kissing the air. âDaddy, please â please let me cumâŚâ
His chuckle is lazy and grating, feeling your cute ass swallow his cock all on its own.
âYâknow, only a real whore cums from having her ass fucked, right?â
You canât help but buck your hips, shaking your ass like a slut as his fingers pick up the pace and rub your bundle of nerves in quicker circles. Begging, âPleaseâŚâÂ
âOh, what a filthy little girl~ bent over like a mindless animal, fucked in her tight ass.â He patronizes. âOkay, my sweet little slut~ Iâll let you cum â but only after I hear you Say, please, Daddy, can I cum on your big fat cock~â
Youâre too close to refuse. Desperation lacing your cute moans, âAh â Daddy, please â mh-please can I cum on your big- ah â fat cock, please, Daddy please~â
He shoves three fingers in your cunt at that, curling them into your soft spot each time he pumps them inside, finger-fucking the sloppy hole until it spurts, making you scream while you squirt, drooling on your sheets like a mind-broken mess as your thighs and ass shake from the release.
âGood whore~ Remember to say thank you.â He mocks.
âTh-thank you â thank you, Daddy~â You mewl out cutely before he sticks all three slick-glossed fingers inside your mouth â fucking the tired opening as you pant out dewy moans around them, sucking them clean of your mess.
He keeps a steady rhythm, continuing to ream your poor butt until it's his turn to cum.
âSuch a good slut~â He slinks out of your pummeled ass and slaps his wet cock against your face where you rest against the bed, all sweaty and dumb from your orgasm. âComeâere, cum-baby, tongue out as you look up at Daddy~â
He smiles, smothering you between his fat thighs while his balls cover your face, pulling back to tap the tip on your lips.
âHere it comes!â
White ropes lash your tongue, leaving a bitter taste â bejewelling your face with pretty pearls that melt down your smooth skin like drying paint on a canvas.
He groans as he tugs the last few spurts out of his balls, wiping the messy cockhead on your tongue.
âAw, I gotta have a picture of that. Daddyâs little cum covered whore on her first day of training~â
He holds your chin, rough-handling your jaw between strong fingers as he angles your face to meet the flash of his phone.
Grinning as he sing-songs, âSay, all my holes belong to Daddy~â
Your expression is still dumb, softly blinking up at him with one eye weighed down with his cum, simply mouthing the words back to him. âAll my holes belong to Daddy~â
⥠BNHA â Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ⥠JJK â Nanami, Geto, Toji, Kusakabe, Shiu ⥠HQ â Daichi, Kuro, Ukai
âĄÂ FEM x M INSERT masterlist âĄÂ GN x M INSERT masterlist
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jjk smut#bnha smut#yandere bnha#mha smut#my hero smut#yandere demon slayer#yandere aot#yandere bllk#yandere blue lock#yandere attack on titan#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia
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hey, I love your writings. Can you please do a Lando x reader, where the reader is lilyâs best friend and often hangs out with Alex and Lando with lily. And Lando is constantly flirting but the reader is clueless and one time she says âare you trying to flirt with me?â And he replies âfor a year now, thank you for finally noticing!â
flirting?
summary in which he's in love and she's clueless
pairing lando norris x fem!reader
genre fluff, smau mix
warning cussing maybe?
a/n IN LOVE WITH THIS SO MUCH i've been thinking of doing something like this for a while. ps idk how to flirt
yourusername posted!
liked by lilymhe, alexalbon, landonorris and 12,345 others
yourusername i'm literally just here to look pretty.
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lilymunihe you're getting better tho! -> alexalbon don't lie to her like that.
user pls alex said 'no liars in my house'
user alex looks very unhappy in the last pic -> yourusername i forced him to sit in the back so i could have aux.
landonorris at least you did something well today -> yourusername literally shut up -> user oh he's flirting...
user you've been best friend with lily for so long and still can't golf?! -> yourusername in my defense...
lilymunhe posted!
liked by yourusername, alexalbon and 123,456 others
lilymunihe eventful weekend
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user1 the teddy bear!
yourusername saved the best pic for last eh? -> lilymunihe always
alexalbon eventful indeed... -> liked by lilymunihe -> user2 oh????
user3 you and yn are too cute im sobbing
user4 literally in love with u
landonorris why am i not in any of these -> yourusername don't worry i have a few to post -> landonorris should i be worried?
landonorris posted!
liked by yourusername and 2,493,604
landonorris what a weekendddd
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mclaren we love to see it
yourusername winner winner chicken dinner!!! -> landonorris i can take u out to dinner if u would like? -> yourusername awwwee
user1 P1 P1 P1
alexalbon congrats mate! -> liked by landonorris
user2 yn being clueless to the flirting -> user3 that or she's just turning him down nicely? -> user4 either way it's funny!
yourusername posted!
liked by lilymunihe and 432,309 others
yourusername i was in the winners garage for once
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alexalbon HEY! -> liked by yourusername and lilymunihe
landonorris would u like to keep it that way? -> yourusername are u trying to flirt with me? -> landonorris for a year now! thank you for finally noticing!!
lilymunihe oh lord.
user1 partied hard eh?
user2 oh this eats
user3 oh shit he is hammering that flirting in
yourusername posted!
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yourusername date night :)
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lilymunihe sosososo happy for u â¤ď¸
user1 oh lando is fighting the air right now
user2 someone check on lando!!
user3 oh my gosh
landonorris just posted
liked by yourusername and 2,030,305 others
landnorris date night was a success in case u were wondering
view all 34,229 comments
yourusername 𧥠-> landonorris đ¤
alexalbon finally.
user1 OH MY GOD WAIT
user2 i will never get over her beauty -> landonorris me either
user3 oh we are dumb.
taglist: @enhacolor @bibissparkles @blueanfield @peachiicherries @i-love-scott-mccall @hockeyboysarehot @cha-hot
#f1#formula 1#f1 fanfic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris mclaren#lando x reader#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#f1 grid#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 smau#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula one
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Had this idea about Rafeâs best friend! Reader who hasnât been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and sheâs yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does
rafe x bsf!reader
a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !
cw: smut, swearing, drool.
rafe knew you havenât had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either oneâs rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help youâŚ
you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.
whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.
you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.
so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.
you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.
rafe knew something was up.
âsomething wrong bunny?â he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.
âno,â you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.
rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.
a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft âoh fuckâ, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.
when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.
âwoah woah- hey bun!â he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.
rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.
âshh calm down baby,â he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.
he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.
âiâm here, iâm here.â he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.
in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.
âwhat dâyou need bunny?â
âneed you rafey,â you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.
rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.
you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you havenât experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafeâs broad figure.
he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafeâs hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.
âletâs be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairsâ he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.
fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.
âyou can cum baby, go âhead,â he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.
as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.
âsorry,â you squeaked. he didnât mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.
it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldnât be the last time it happens, you could tell.
âthank you rafey.â you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didnât say anything, just kissed your forehead.
âare we late to dinner?â you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.
âi drive fast, weâll make it,â he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.
dinner could wait.
likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.
#scarlet writes ๨ŕ§#new tag !#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#drew starkey#best friend!rafe#best friend!reader#kook reader#rafe cameron prompt#drew x reader#rafe cameron p links#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron thoughts#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron outer banks#obx#rafe obx#rafe one shot
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toddler - Matt Sturniolo
summary: having 2 toddlers isn't the easiest, espically when you're currently pissed at your husband matt after an argument. one night you get pushed to the point of a breakdown when the kids won't behave and matt's there to help you.
contains: dad!matt, fluff, slightly suggestive , crying, slight mental breakdown, comforting, angst?
a/n: this was loosely based off of how daddy matt was in today's vid.
----âââ--------------..â˘â˘Â°Â°Â°Â°â˘â˘..------------ââââ
7:38pm
matt and i had an argument last night leaving me in tears, heâs been in his bedroom this whole day leaving me to deal with our two twins which are both 3 and a half.
i attempt to cook up something that somewhat resembles a dinner for our girls but the only thing occupying my mind is the events of what happened last night.
yesterday
âwhy is this house always so fucking messy!â mattâs voice booms throughout the living room as he abruptly stands up
âshit, i donât know maybe because you got me pregnant at 18 and iâm the only one who does anything for the kids our this house!â i raise my voice back at him
matt lets out a shocked laugh âsorry that some people have fucking jobs and donât lay on their ass with the kids all day and call it tiring?â
âlay on my ass? i clean, i cook, i take the girls to daycare and i bring them home, i do everythingâ
âif everything includes not having a fucking job and using up my money that i earn then sure, you do a whole lotâ matt says with a slight attitude.
âall you fucking do is act like you have it hard when you donât! get a fucking gripâ he yells
the whole room goes silent, i erupt into tears and walk out of the room to our spare bedroom
âand always fucking crying.â i hear him scoff, only making my state worse.
â
my thoughts are cut off by a wail coming from behind me, my head spins back to see millie with a fistful of claireâs hair, yanking.
i instantly drop the wooden spoon into the pot before speed walking towards the twins
âstop it!â i yell, grabbing millie from under her arms and staring into her eyes angrily âgo find daddy, not acceptable millie.â i raise my voice, placing her down.
she folds her arms with a huff, stomping her little legs down the corridor to matt and iâs shared room.
âyouâre okay claireâ i coo, fixing her pigtail which sits on the very top of her head
i pick her up and place her down on the couch with one of her stuffed animals before making my way back towards the kitchen.
i turn down the heat on the stovetop slightly with an exhausted sigh
suddenly i hear small giggles coming from behind me followed by the backs of my knees being pushed
âfuck!â i yell, stumbling over and grabbing the handle to the pot, spilling boiling spaghetti onto the floor, also splashing up onto my sweater.
millie goes silent before sprinting in the other direction with claire
as of things couldnât get any worse right now i hear mattâs voice start something
âwhat are you actually fucking doin-â he cuts himself off when he sees the state iâm in
i burst into sobs, matt looks down at me with concern painted across his face
âhey- shh sh youâre okay, youâre okay.â he says frantically, walking over to me and kneeling on the floor
âmatt i canât do this the kids arenât behaving and i canât fucking make them something theyâll like-â i start, saying in between shaking breaths
he carefully picks me up from under my arms before switching his grip to the back of my thighs, i bury my face into his shoulders and feel matt take in panicked breaths
he speed walks us down into our bedroom at the end of the corridor, âare you hurt sweetheart?â he says, placing me down on the bed and peeling my sweatshirt off of me
âdid the hot water soak through? shit.â matt says trying to stay calm.
âno-â i sniff, rubbing my eyes. matt yanks his sweatshirt off his body and lays it across me like a blanket.
âstay right here okay? iâm gonna sort the kids out then put them to bed, then iâll come back to talk, try get some sleep for me gorgeous.â
matt presses a kiss to my nose before rushing out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
i have a clear view of kitchen from where iâm laying so i see matt walk into the kitchen before kneeling down
âcâmere.â he demands, sticking out his arms. millie and claire toddle over to him with a guilty expression across their face.
âtell me whatâs happened.â matt says sternly, maintaining eye contact with both of them.
millie bursts into tears almost immediately as she looks at matt
matt runs his hand up and down her arm as he waits for a response
âwe- we pushed mommy and she fell and spilt hot water on her and hurt herâ she sniffs
âa-and.. and youâre mad at meâ she continues.
âdo i look mad sweetheart?â matt says softly, claire shrugs along with millie
âiâm really really sad that you werenât behaving for mommy, and i know you know better than that right?â matt speaks
millie nods, wiping her nose with the backs of her hand
âand now iâm gonna ask you to go clean up the spill with claire and then weâre gonna go say sorry to mom okay?â he says gently, pressing two kisses to the girls forehead
they nod in unison before going into the kitchen, matt hands them the paper towels and they instantly drop down to there knees and attempt to clean the mess.
matt watches while biting his nails âwhy do you think you made mommy cry though?â he says, claire looks up at him with a heaped pile of paper towels in her hands
âbecause we were naughty.â claire sighs, matt nods while gathering the piles of drenched paper towels and throwing them away.
âwhat iâm âgonna ask you to do is sit down at the kitchen table and think about how you will say sorry to mommy tomorrow while i make you dinner okay girls?â
claire and millie run over to the dining table, more than hungry and tired now.
matt sorts through the pantry before settling on mac and cheese which i wasnât even sure we had.
after a good 10 minutes matt brings over the two small bowls to the twins, who have been silent ever since they sat down.
âyou have to eat all of this okay?â matt says while placing the bowls down. claire and millie nod
â-
8:56pm
matt finishes up the last dishes in the sink before walking over to the girls âyou alright?â he asks softy before picking both of them up, one in each arm.
matt walks down the corridor, flashing me a quick smile as both the girls bury their head in his shoulders.
âtheyâre very tiredâ he mouths to me with a small laugh while walking into their shared bedroom.
i hear the door shut followed by matt walking into our bedroom. âyou feeing better gorgeous?â he asks calmly as he flops down in bed beside me.
âthank you for doing that.â i sigh, rubbing my eyes with my palms.
âdonât thank me? iâm their dad and i realise that after yesterdayâs.. argument that youâre right and i do need to start caring more.â matt looks over at me.
âyou donât have to just say thatâ i whisper
âiâm not just saying that, i actually mean it.â matt responds with an unreadable expression
âthe shit you said last night..â i start, my voice wobbling âiâm gonna find it hard to forget, because i know that in that moment you meant it.â
matt goes silent,
âand i know that youâre busy but i try, so hard to make you and the girls happy, meaning that i donât have free time to work because everything i do is for you?â i keep going, several tears now rolling down my cheeks
âso you saying that you should help our more around the house and pretending like everythingâs perfect between us isnât gonna fix shit.â
i physically canât keep speaking unless i want to start sobbing so i stop, taking in a shaky breath.
matt doesnât say anything back, instead sitting up and grabbing me and pulling me into a deathly tight hug.
the few tears that fell dampen the shoulder of his shirt as he rubs my back.
âi donât even know how to apologise.â matt says, his voice trembling.
âplease- donât cry.â he whispers, âiâm just really tiredâ i squeeze out
âi know iâve been a shit.. person for the past year or so and trust me, you and the girls are on my mind every single minute of every day and- and thereâs no excuse for what i said yesterday except for the fact i wasnât thinking straight.â
matt rambles
âi shouldnât have yelled, or said anything. i know, i know you have it way harder than me, and iâm not just saying that itâs true.â
âyou donât have to forgive me at all today, tomorrow or in general for this but i love you and iâm so sorry.â
matt finishes by pulling away to look at my face, which he cups in both his hands.
âthank you.â is the only thing i reply with, somewhat shocked by that 2 minute long tangent.
matt lays back down on the matress, pulling me towards him. i lay my head down on his chest with a deep breath in, instantly falling asleep
ââââ
9:56am the next day
the morning sun burns into the side of my face as i roll over in bed,
my eyebrows knit together when i realise mattâs not next to me like normal.
i sit up in bed, wiping my eyes as i attempt to run my fingers through my tangled hair.
i stumble out of bed towards the door of our bedroom, gripping the handle lazily and swinging it open.
the whole house is perfectly clean âwhat the fuck..â i mumble to myself as i walk into the living room where my eyes lay on my favourite sight
my 3 favourite people, matt claire and millie are sat on the sofa, mattâs in the middle and the girls are cuddled up to his side while matt holds open a picture book which he stops reading when i walk in.
âgood morning prettyâ matt smiles stupidly, i grow a small smile on my face.
âi think that someone has something to say to mom?â matt says, looking down at each of the girls.
they run up to me and wrap their arms around each of my legs âwere really sorryâ claire says, i bend down to their height and give them a smile
millie follows up with a âand iâm sorry for hurting you a- and i love you a lot!â she says with a cute smile.
âitâs okay sweetheart, i love you.â i grin, wrapping my arms around them before standing back up.
âand iâm gonna make it up to you tonightâ matt says quietly while walking over to me
âmatthew bernard! you horny mother fuckerâ i whisper.
ââââ
@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209
#sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut
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queen shit | max verstappen
pairing: max verstappen x pageant queen! reader
summary: max verstappen mets you, his long term celebrity crush at a charity event.
notes; someone request this but i accidentally posted it before i finished and had to delete itâŚi hope this finds you anon
liked by rupaulofficial, maxverstappen, mclaren, and 913,047 others!
yoursername: very successful event tonight, many thank you's to all those who attended and donated, much love đ
view comments below!
user1: by very successful she means that she just raised over 20 million dollars for family's in need. 20 million dollars. TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS.
user2: QUEEN. SHIT.
user3: i love rich people actually putting their money and status to work
user4: my goat đŞđŞ
user5: there were SO MANY different celebrities there
user6: and she definitely did NOT know all of them!
user7: probably just invited them so more money could be donated đ
user8: was the most random people too, like kim kardiashian?? mitski??? f1 drivers??? hockey players??
user9: no seriously. because why was i watching the livestream only to see george russell dancing in the background. very horribly may i add
georegrussel|63: thank you for the invite! i had the time of my life!
yoursername: of course george! thank you for the donating :) <3
user10: theyâre friends???
user11: some of yall are FAKE FANS. yn and george have been friends for YEARS. he even posted her when she won miss universe and many times after
user12: i wasn't even alive when she won miss universe...
user13: PAUSE.
user14: WHAT ARE YOU ON SOCIAL MEDIA? THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU
user15: YOURE SIX?? AND CAN SPELL??
user16: are we all going to pretend like max didn't just meet his celebrity crush?
user17: most people here don't know who he is đ
user18: "meet" is a STRETCH, he stood behind her all night just staring...
user19: yeah it was actually kinda sad
user20: f1twt is CLOWNING HIM SO HARD RN
user23: 3x world champion and he's too scared to go up to his celebrity crush
user24: OKAY GUYYYSSS BUTTT this is his first time seeing her in person! ofc he was shocked, maybe next time he'll actually go up to her?
landonorris: thanks for the invite!
georgerussell63: you were my plus one?
landonorris: SHHHH
georgerussell63: in fact, everyone on the grid got personally invited, except you?
landonorris: STOP AIRING OUT MY BUSINESS
user27: yn definitely didn't invite him directly just so lando could be embarrassed like this
alex_albon: best thai food ever (other then my moms) thank you for the invite!
user25: yeah we saw they way your scarfed that shit down
user26: acting like it was the last fucking supper
yourusername: thank you for coming alex! (and for taking home the leftovers)
user28: HE TOOK HOME THE LEFT OVERS?
maxverstappen1: hi
georgerussell63: oh no
landonorris: no way he does it
charles_leclerc: i believe in you max
carlossainz55: don't hype him up! max don't do it. don't embarrass yourself like this
oscarpiastri: i say go for it max
yourusername: hi max :)
georgerussell63: omg omg OMG
maxverstappen1: would you like to go on a date with me?
landonorris: oh he did it...
carlossainz55: NOOO
charles_leclerc: yay max!
user29: it's been 10 hours and still no response...
liked by georgerussell63, and 762,091 others!
yourusername: pretty sunset đ
view comments below!
user30: is thatâŚa man?
user31: this makes max being rejected so much more humiliating
user32: SHE HAS A WHOLE BOYFRIEND?? đ
user33: max found sobbing into his pillow
user34: *not clickbait*
georgerussell63: i laughed
user35: GEORGE???
user36: heâs funny for this
user37: max most definitely doesnât think itâs funny
user38: yns first time soft launching and itâs right after max publicly asks her outâŚhm!
user39: she was waiting for the funniest moment to do this
user40: QUEEN SHIT
user41: ok but who is this man đ¤¨
user42: donât call me delusionalâŚbut that hand kinda looks like max
user43: okay granny letâs get you back to the nursing homeâŚ
user44: thankful iâm not this delusional
user45: free yn from the max fansâŚ
user46: @/user42 DONT LET THEM SILENCE YOU
landonorris: he cried
yourusername: i cried
landonorris; we crode
user47: okay itâs definitely max
user48: lando knows something
user49: MAX ISNT IN THE LIKES??
user50: it really isnât himâŚhes been flirting with her through the likes for years
user51: rip max being the first to like yns post..gone but never forgotten đď¸
charles_leclerc: heheheâŚheheheâŚhehe
user52: WHAT DO TOU KNOW CHARLES
user53: donât fuck with me charles. i am not in the mood.
user54: you canât convince me that man is not max when all his friends are in the comments section like this
user55: charles istg
alex_albon: i know something đ
user56: ok. itâs definitely max.
user57: i still donât think it isâŚwe canât see his face
user58: but what are the chances she soft launches after max asks her out
user59: she probably did it to be funny?
user60: and it worked! sheâs too funny
liked by alex_albon, carlossainz, and 914,058 others!
maxverstappen1: matching sunglasses đśď¸
view comments below!
user61: QUICK, WHOS FEET DO THOSE LOOK LIKE
user62: oh maxâŚ
user63: okay so! itâs either max and yn DID go on that date, or yn has a bf and max posted this to save himself
user64: i realllyyy hope max and yn did go on that date because if max posted this just to save himself the embarrassmentâŚ.
user65: what if this isnât even a girl, and itâs one of maxâs friend pretending to be a girl đ
user66: i can see charles pretending to be the girl
user67: HE SO WOULD
charles_leclerc: those are NOT my toes đ¤
user68: okay but no one on the grid has skinny little girl hands like this
user68: logan does
logansargent: ?
user68: well this is awkward
georgerussell63: well well well
user69: THIS CAN MEAN MANY THINGS GEORGE!! IS THIS YN OR NOT
user70: i donât think itâs yn. sheâs too pretty for max.
comment liked by georgerussell63
user70: GEORGE LIKED??
user71: so itâs NOT yn?
user72: but he could mean it in a âthey are dating but sheâs too pretty for himâ way
user73: GRRRR
carlossainz55: i canât believe it
user74: WHAT. WHAT CANT YOU BELIVE CARLOS
user75: you canât believe that yn and max actually went out?? or you canât believe max got a another girl after being publicly rejected??
user76: theyâre like giving us hints but at the same time theyâre not??
user77: THEYRE PLAYING WITH US
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 802,520 others!
maxverstappen1: iâm dating a pageant queen and youâre not! ďżź
view comments below!
user78: FINALLY!
user79: couldâve just said this earlier..
user80: couldâve saved us the trouble đ
carlossainz55: i still canât believe it
user81: SO HE DID MEAN IT IN A âcanât believe you actually got herâ WAY
maxverstappen1: you have no faith in me :(
carlossainz55: correct!
charles_leclerc: i believed in you max!
maxverstappen1: thank you charles đ
carlossainz55: heâs lying, he bet âŹ50 you wouldnât get a text back
maxverstappen1: THAT BASTARD
charles_leclerc: IT DIDNT SEEM LIKE YOU WERE GOING TO GET A REPLY! I THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD TIME TO WIN âŹ50 AND I WOULDâVE GIVEN YOU HALF?
user83: i could be dating a pageant queen, you donât know me
user84: are you?
user83: am i what?
user84: dating a pageant queen?
user83: no
user84: what is wrong with you
user85: i love how nobody was hating, we all just wanted to know if max x yn was happening
user86: max has gotten his dream girlâŚWE CHEERED
user87: years later and lot of instagram likes, we DID IT đ
user88: we?
user89: i was there almost 8 years ago when max put his first like on yns post, so yes! WE
user90: thank god for that charity event
liked by maxverstappen1
yourusername: former pageant queen
maxverstappen1: youâll always be a pageant queen in my eyes đĽ°
landonorris; simp
maxverstappen1: mad you donât have a girlfriend?
user91: WOAH GIRLFRIEND?
user92: girl what did you think was going on here
user91: I DIDDNT KNOW THEY MADE IT OFFICIAL
liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 715,047 others!
yourusername: iâm dating a 3x wdc and youâre not!
view comments below!
user92: please donât rub it in
user93: iâm soooo happy for you guys (sarcasm)
user93: yes iâm jealous
danielricciardo: actually i am dating a 3x wdc and his name is max verstappen
yourusername; really? because max verstappen is is laying on me right now
danielricciardo: thatâs a clone. the REAL max verstappen is laying to my right.
yourusername: this is what we call schizophrenia đĽ°ďżź
user94: you guys are so cute! (iâm jealous, iâm so fucking jealous)
user95: max started dating his celebrity crush of 8 years in 8 days! we did it joe! we did it
user96: they wonât last. theyâre moving to fast.
user97: theyâre both grown adults who know what they want đ¤ˇââď¸
maxverstappen1: thatâs me!
yourusername; thatâs you!
georgerussell63: yeah max we have EYES.
maxverstappen1: donât be pissy because yn likes me more now
georgerussell63: she does NOT
maxverstappen1: you keep thinking that đ
charles_leclerc: i always knew he could do it!
maxverstappen1: no you didnât. stop lying to me.
charles_leclerc: IM SORRY. I WAS GOING TO SHARE THE âŹ50 WITH YOUUU.
maxverstappen1: I DONT CARE @/oscarpiastri is the ONLY know who truly believed in me
oscarpiastri: i bet âŹ100 against you
maxverstappen1: I CANT TRUST ANYONE
alex_albon: does this mean weâll be invited to more charity events?
user98: youâre just thinking of the food đ
alex_albon: âŚyeah
maxverstappen1: đđĽ°đđđĽđđ¤
user99: bro starts dating his celebrity crush and forgets how to act
user100: me if i was dating oscar
. . .
notes: thank you for the request! (even though i accidentally deleted it)
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen smau#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#f1 social media au#f1#f1 fluff#formula one smau#formula one x you#formula one x reader
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