#but I kind of whirlwinded it by volume….

[heynhay]

eating good with your fem kl posts 😫😫😫

that’s chef to you

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Telling Hugh Dancy about trans masc Will and more...

As some of you already know by now, I went to Boston Fanexpo this past weekend for another stop on the unofficial Hannibal 2024 Reunion Tour.

I had planned to do autographs on the Friday before the Hannibal panel and had brought some gifts for Hugh which included a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, which I compiled and edited last year. I also got him to sign my own copy (above).

It all moved quite quickly, but I did have the chance to explain that it's a volume by and about trans, non-binary, and genderqueer Fannibals that includes art, fics, essays, and personal pieces. He seemed intrigued and I said I hope he'd have the chance to read it and that the art isn't explicit/sexual but some of the fics are - he laughed and said he appreciated the warning.

It was all quite the whirlwind, especially after coming all the way from the UK, so I was absolutely mortified when I remembered the next morning that I had talked with a few trans Fannibals who had specifically asked me to let him know that he/Will is a trans icon. So I went back up to see him again on the Saturday morning when it wasn't too busy (and get more stuff signed) and this is what happened:

[I wrote notes down right after so this is as close an account I can get without having filmed it!].

Me: I saw you yesterday Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: I gave you a book Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: well, I forgot to tell you. A few trans Fannibals reached out to me to tell you that Will is a trans icon to them and we all love you for it. Hugh was surprised (in a nice way) and I was pretty much going to walk away then - job done and feeling like time for me to stop bothering Hugh lol. But before I could walk away he sort of held out his hand to stop me and said something along the lines of - I don't mean this in a disrespectful way, don't take it the wrong way... I'm genuinely curious- I get that it can be about identity- but what is the connection to Will and being trans? Luckily - my essay in the book is exactly about how Will can be read as trans, so I sort of gave him a summary of that. I explained that (obviously) both Will and Hannibal can be read as queer, and that - especially as both characters have dominant masculine and feminine traits, it's also easy to read them both as trans or in some way genderqueer. He was nodding and agreeing, so I further explained that with Hannibal, he is fully formed - he's already whatever he is - which Hugh also agreed with. But that Will is still becoming, still transitioning and therefore can be more relatable to trans fans who see that journey in themselves. So although it's not necessarily the same journey - there is enough to it that it resonates with trans people. I said that in the show there is also the added bonus of Will being seen and accepted for who he is, just as trans people wish to be. He was nodding along and agreeing with me and then he thanked me for explaining that. It was pretty quiet previously but I'd been there a few minutes so the queue was building up a little but he was so focused on me - so genuinely intent on hearing what I had to say and learning more. SO I CARRIED ON. (lols) I explained to him that it goes further than the show, that we have found a community in the fandom and that many trans people have a catalyst in their life that sparks their journey - like Will had in his friendship with Hannibal. For us it might be a person, an event, or even a TV show. I explained how the fandom are so supportive of trans people - that we are SEEN. That I for one wouldn't have been able to afford top surgery without the kind donations of Fannibals back when I was not in a good place (mentally or financially). That we all help each other and for some of us that has been life-saving. He did the hand on heart thing and said "wow" and was clearly moved. I said to him that so much of this is in the book, that I completely understand if he doesn't want to read the fanfic, but I really hope that he will at least read each of the personal pieces - that each of the fics and art also have a little write up from their creator about what the show and/or fandom has meant to them and their gender journey - how important this has been in our lives. He repeated a couple of times that he would definitely read it. I thanked him and he held out his hand and gave me the most genuine hand shake I've had in my life.

I want to really stress here how much this was instigated by Hugh. That he really wanted to know more and understand and didn't even look at the slowly growing queue but was instead intently focused on knowing more about the trans Fannibals and about why this show and the characters mean so much to us.

I then went off and spoke with a few Fannibal friends in the queue before getting around the corner to another Fannibal friend and having a bit of an emotional moment/breakdown. I can't even explain how grateful I am that he gave me the opportunity to explain all this to him. And I was especially glad I got to tell that Will is a trans icon because I'd have felt terrible if I'd have not done that after people had asked!! Thank you for trusting me to pass that message on for you!

💖

I know for many of you Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal might have gone a little under the radar. So here is some more about that >>

It was compiled last year for Trans Hanni Day, edited by Max Turner of (and in conjunction with) A Coup of Owls Press - and published under Max's ACoO imprint.

It features essays, personal pieces, fanart and fanfic by and about trans, non-binary, genderqueer and otherwise non-cis Fannibals.

IT IS FREE TO DOWNLOAD, however we ask that if you do that, please consider donating to one of the linked trans orgs if you can afford to (or a similar organisation/charity of your choice).

It can be purchased on Amazon, however, as the proceeds go to charity, and Amazon only gives royalties, more is earned/given if bought directly via Max's shop.

Dearest trans Fannibals, please know that YOU ARE SEEN!

[puppym3]

I’m kinda new to tumblr tbh but I need someone to write this so here goes lol

I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write a smut story where Chan is feeling kind of insecure about himself and the reader ends up jerking him off while like cooing to him how pretty he is

basically a fic where the reader praises the fuck out of Chan cause he deserves it 🥰

.·:*¨ insecure!bangchan x reader ¨*:·.

wc: 1.3k (the shortest i've written)

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, kinda subby chan?, established relationship, insecurities, comfort, praise, body worship, sweet, fluffy, slight oral (m. rec), handjob, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: omg. i just finished writing and i was about to go to bed and then i read this and immediately needed to write it. tysm @hyunjinx42 for this suggestion <3 i hope it lived up to what u wanted

i love getting suggestions so if anyone has anything they'd like me to write, pls lmk!!! i also have a taglist if anyone is interested!

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆�� *¨¨*:·.

You and your boyfriend were nestled comfortably on the plush, oversized couch, the soft glow of the table lamp casting a warm, inviting hue across the cozy living room. The air was filled with a serene ambiance, created by the gentle hum of the TV, which played a movie neither of you were particularly invested in. The flickering light from the screen danced across the room.

Your head rested gently on Chan’s broad shoulder, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest providing a comforting background to your quiet evening together. His arm, strong and reassuring, enveloped you in a protective embrace, pulling you close to him. The plush blanket draped over both of you felt like a cocoon, wrapping you in warmth.

Chan’s fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, his touch light and soothing. Yet, there was something different about his demeanor tonight. His usual warmth was overshadowed by a distant look in his eyes, as though his thoughts were caught in a whirlwind of uncertainties and insecurities that clouded his mind.

Sensing the shift in his mood, you shifted slightly, your instincts telling you that something was amiss. “Hey, Chan,” you said softly, your voice tender and concerned. “You okay?”

He sighed deeply, a sound laden with unspoken worries. His gaze flickered briefly to the TV screen, but it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere. The movie played on, a mere backdrop to the inner turmoil that occupied his mind. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, but his voice lacked its usual warmth, replaced by an undertone of hesitation.

With a gentle movement, you propped yourself up on one elbow, your eyes locked on his troubled expression. Your heart ached at the sight of him so distant, and you knew he was carrying a burden he wasn’t ready to share. “You don’t seem fine,” you said, your voice carrying a quiet intensity. “You’ve been distant for a while now. Talk to me, what’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, a fleeting moment of vulnerability crossing his features. He nervously bit his lower lip, a gesture that spoke volumes about the feelings he was experiencing. “It’s just… stupid thoughts,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your frown deepened, your concern growing. “Chan, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? No matter how silly it seems, I want to know what’s bothering you.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of apprehension and sadness. “It’s just… sometimes I can’t help but think you could be with someone more attractive. Someone who’s… I don’t know, more everything than me.”

The words struck you like a cold wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. It had never occurred to you that he, the sexiest man alive, might harbor such insecurities about his appearance.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Chan continued, his voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and self-doubt. “Like, I see the way other guys look at you, and they all seem to be models or something. And then there’s me. I mean, I know I can be sexy when I try, but it takes a lot of effort and makeup. Sometimes I just feel like you could do better, you know?”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you shook your head vehemently, your heart aching for him. “Chan, that’s not true,” you said firmly, your hands gently cupping his face. “You know that’s not true. You’re right about one thing—you look nothing like those other guys.”

You trailed your fingers down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate care. As you slowly opened the shirt, revealing his well-defined muscles, you couldn’t help but admire the smoothness of his skin. Your touch was tender, each movement imbued with love and reverence.

“They could never look like you,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his neck. “They could never have this sexy body, and your sexy voice, and your adorable dimple.”

As you kissed a trail down his chest, your lips lingering on his skin, you felt the tension in his body begin to dissolve. Your hands roamed over his muscles, appreciating the hard-earned contours of his physique. You adjusted your position, gracefully moving off the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

Your hands traced the lines of his toned abs, your fingers gently caressing the faint lines and bumps that spoke of countless hours in the gym. “Too sexy,” you whispered, looking up at him with a playful yet adoring smile.

His face flushed a deep crimson, and he looked down at you, his breath hitching in his throat. The vulnerability in his eyes was palpable, but there was also a flicker of desire that ignited as he watched you.

Your hands moved lower, reaching the waistband of his jeans. With a slow, deliberate motion, you unbuttoned and unzipped them, pulling them down along with his boxers. The anticipation in the air was electric as you exposed him to your view.

His half-hard cock was freed, and you wrapped your hand around it, gently stroking it.

"Nobody can have a prettier cock than you," you murmured, admiring its size and shape. "Not even a porn star."

Your hand ran slowly up and down his length, looking up at him.

He groaned, his cock twitching in your hand.

You smiled, moving closer. You pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, then licked the slit, tasting the bead of precum that had formed.

"Did I mention the sexy voice?" you asked, looking up at him again. "And the pretty face? And the way your dimple looks when you smile?"

You gave the head a kitten lick, your hand moving faster.

"So beautiful," you whispered.

He moaned, his cock throbbing in your hand.

You smirked, pressing a wet kiss to the head. "Too bad nobody else can have you, you're all for me," you murmured, your other hand giving attention to his abs.

His face was flushed as he watched you touch him.

You stroked him faster, kissing his cock again. "I bet none of those guys could make me cum like you can," you whispered, licking up the side of his cock. "No one makes me feel as good as you."

His cock twitched in your hand, and he bit his lip, stifling another moan.

"Nobody stands a chance against your hot body, your cute face, and your amazing cock," you whispered, pumping him faster. "You're so sexy, you're too much."

He gasped, his cock pulsing in your hand. He was close.

"You're mine," you whispered, stroking him faster.

"Yours," he groaned, his cock throbbing in your hand.

"So pretty honey, nobody else compares," you mumbled, stroking him harder.

You pumped him faster, eager to feel him cum.

"Come for me baby," you whispered, licking the tip of his cock.

His body tensed, his hips jerking as he came. His cock throbbed, shooting hot cum over your face and hand.

"Even pretty when you cum," you murmured, stroking him through his orgasm.

His body shuddered as he finished, his cock twitching a few more times before he relaxed, breathing heavily.

You released his cock, smiling up at him. You looked up at him through heavy eyelids. "So sexy, and all mine."

He smiled, reaching for your face, and pulling you up for a kiss.

You smiled, breaking the kiss. "Is that enough proof?" you asked, wiping his cum off of your face.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back onto the couch.

"Thank you for that, I love you," he murmured, holding you close.

"I love you, too," you said, nuzzling against him.

The two of you lay there in each other's arms, the TV still humming in the background.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

taglist for my beauties: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

[felinecyan]

Turned Tables

[Toshinori Yagi x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Although being with All Might meant you’d have to be saved twice as much as a regular civilian, it didn’t mean he was completely invincible. Sometimes, he also needed saving, and sometimes, you were the only one able to do it.

WC: 1859

Category: Mega Fluff

My beloved 🥹🥹

『••✎••』

If your future self told you that your life would be filled with the most bizarre, unpredictable situations and involved with the number one hero in all of Japan, would you believe it? Absolutely not.

If you had asked your younger self what she imagined her future to be, you could never have come up with something so ridiculous. The mere thought of All Might being your soulmate would have sent you into hysterics.

But that was then.

And this is now.

You weren't sure how it had happened, and you called it cliche, but you swore it had been a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. I mean, he saved thousands of people on a daily basis. There was no reason he should have paid attention to you.

He was just doing his job.

It was only chance that the villain that had been terrorizing your neighborhood had targeted you. It was luck that All Might had just happened to be passing through when you found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

In the end, you were unharmed.

All Might had arrived just in time, disarming the villain and delivering him to the proper authorities.

You had thanked him, of course. Maybe it was your calm nature or perhaps the fact that you had remained surprisingly unshaken during the encounter. But somehow, fate decided that the two of you were perfect for each other.

The second All Might had turned his back to you and begun to walk away, he froze. It was as if the air had suddenly gone stale. All Might felt an overwhelming presence behind him and a voice that seemed to be calling out to him. He hadn't even known that you had followed after him.

He spun around quickly, and the next thing he knew, his vision went white.

When the world came back into focus, he saw you standing there. You were looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite understand. Then you smiled.

It was like he had been blinded.

And don’t worry, you were the same way.

Your life was a whirlwind of activity after that.

You had learned his true form, not that it mattered much. Toshinori Yagi, or All Might, was still the same man you had fallen for. He was sweet, funny, kind, and everything you could ever ask for in a soulmate.

He did tend to be loud at times, accidentally yelling when he was nervous, and sometimes the volume of his laughter was a little too much, but those were the small things.

You were sure the press would have had a field day with your story. After all, not many people got the chance to date All Might.

It had taken you a while to get used to the sudden increase in popularity. It had gotten so bad at one point that the two of you had resorted to disguises when going out on dates.

Of course, his disguise choices were less than ideal.

You had laughed when you saw the first wig and mustache; it was such a poor attempt at blending in. But you had to admit, his smile had never looked so good.

There was one thing, though. Something you both dreaded and knew was inevitable.

The villains.

All the popularity and attention was a two-way street. You had gained fans, but you had also drawn the attention of his enemies. Most of the time, you could brush it off as if you were some overzealous fan trying to get close to All Might. But every now and again, a villain would come looking for trouble.

Those were the days you worried.

It was a constant concern that plagued both of you.

What if he couldn’t make it in time? What if something happened to him? What would happen to you?

These thoughts always manage to find their way into your mind. Nightmares mostly. The thought of him not making it in time to save you was what you feared the most.

It was a terrifying thought, but that’s what it was. Just a thought. Because he was always there.

Every. Single. Time.

It really made you realize why he was picked to be the symbol of peace. He was the number-one hero for a reason.

Him saving himself, though? Yeah… that was a little harder.

He could handle civilian savings. He could handle villains, and he could handle the regular fans. But the fangirls? That was something else entirely.

One of the things he had never quite gotten used to was their obsessive behavior. They could be rather scary at times. And they were always a bit too… forward with their advances.

Most of the time, it was fine. He was polite and would smile and wave at them, as a hero does. Occasionally, though, he would get cornered.

And today was one of those days.

It had been a busy morning, as usual. There had been a bank robbery, followed by a mugging and an attempted kidnapping.

All in all, just another typical day.

Now, he was making his way back home through the streets of Musutafu. He was looking forward to relaxing, maybe having a nice bath and a nap.

He could use a break.

But just as he was beginning to think he might make it back home without incident, a group of girls spotted him.

"It's All Might!"

He knew what was coming next. He didn't have time for this.

"Please excuse me, ladies," he called out to them. "Duty calls."

But his attempts were in vain.

They weren't having it. He thought he was super speedy, but apparently, he had met his match.

The next thing he knew, a mob had formed, and he found himself surrounded by a bunch of overly excited teenage girls.

"Oh my god! It's really him!"

"He's so handsome in person."

"Can we have your autograph?"

"Hey! Hey, All Might!"

He had barely gotten the chance to say anything.

"Yes, well-" he was cut off before he could continue.

"Can I feel your muscles, please, All Might? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"I'm sorry, but-"

"My sister would be so jealous if she saw me hanging out with you. She loves you, y'know. Can I have a hug?"

He was overwhelmed.

He felt his patience waning. The more they pressed, the further his smile became.

"If you would just-"

He tried again. Useless.

"Hey, hey, All Might! Can I touch your hair? It's so big. It must be soft."

He was completely and utterly stuck. Every second that goes by was a second too long. More girls kept showing up.

It was a nightmare.

"I'm very sorry, but I have somewhere to be."

He could barely get a word out, and he was too exhausted even to move.

"Oh my god, are you blushing, All Might?"

He wasn't. But his smile was becoming increasingly strained. God, they were persistent.

Then, like a light shining from above, he heard it. His savior's voice.

"There you are," you said as you made your way through the crowd.

You pushed your way to the front and placed your hands on your hips. You looked absolutely annoyed.

"What did I tell you about wandering off? We're supposed to meet my parents in half an hour. Do you want to be late? You know how my mom gets."

His eyes went wide, and he let out a nervous laugh. That was a complete lie on your part; your parents weren't exactly expecting you anytime soon, but they didn’t need to know that.

"Right. Right, of course, my love," he said.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. It was amazing how you could find him in a crowd so easily.

He was a good head and shoulders taller than everyone around. His hair made him stand out. And, of course, his booming laughter was always a dead giveaway. But, still, he was amazed at your speed. Sometimes, it feels as though you have a secret radar that lets you know when he's having lady trouble.

You leaned into his embrace, and his strained smile relaxed.

"You’re so good to me," he whispered.

He planted a kiss on your temple. Then, a mischievous grin formed.

"Sorry, ladies, but I have a prior engagement," he said. "Maybe next time."

Since your glare was fixed on every girl that was surrounding you, they finally took in his words and backed away.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, of course," one of them said.

"I can't believe I just met him. I can't wait to tell my sister," another said.

"That was so awesome."

"See you later, All Might."

"Goodbye."

They scattered like a bunch of cockroaches, leaving the two of you alone.

The moment they were gone, All Might's demeanor changed. He let out a sigh of relief and pulled you into a proper hug.

"How do you do it? It’s been decades, and I still can't escape the fangirls."

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him.

"They're persistent; I'll give them that," you said.

He was tired, so you were careful when pulling away. You were sure his exhaustion was due to his hidden condition.

"We should probably get home," you suggested. "You could use a break… and a nap."

"Sounds perfect," he said.

You were just about to start heading home when you stopped. Something about the look on his face made you think.

"Is everything okay, my love?" he asked.

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowed in confusion. You could only smile.

"Y'know, you never did answer her question," you said.

"Huh?"

"You know, about the hair. Is it as soft as it looks? Because I've always wondered that myself. I’m always too short to reach."

Laughter flooded the air as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. The smile returned, full force.

"You’ve felt my hair before, darling; it’s all you ever do."

"Yeah, well, I was distracted."

"Distracted, huh?"

"Extremely."

"Well, here," he said. "Feel to your heart's content."

He leaned down so that you could run your fingers through his golden locks. And just as that one girl had guessed, it was incredibly soft.

“I could never grow hair this nice, no matter how hard I try," you mumbled.

"It's a burden, but someone's gotta bear it."

He stood upright and looked down at you, a smile gracing his features.

"Alright," he said. "Shall we go now?"

"Just one second."

"Huh?"

He raised a brow in confusion. But you didn't answer him. Instead, you grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him down to your level. Close enough, at least.

"Wha-"

You stopped him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It caught him off guard, but it didn't take long for him to reciprocate.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you slightly. This allowed you to reach his cheek. He was still smiling when you pulled away.

"Now," your voice was on the verge of a whisper.

"Now, we can go."

[mariclerc]

Can you do a fic where the reader works for Ferrari and has been friends with Charles for a long time, and recently Charles and the reader have a friends with benefits thing going on, but the reader is actually in love with him. Then when Lewis moves to Ferrari, he takes an interest in the reader, the reader decides to give him a shot and stops the situationship with Charles and he realises he doesn't want to let her go.

thank you for this request, this was a little bit hard to make because i was looking at how to develop the story but I really liked how it came out, I hope you like it!

Confusions at work | cl16 & lh44

Summary: when you have feelings for your situationship but a new person gets in the middle of it. Warnings: a little angst, confused reader, and fluff at the end.

The garage bustles with mechanics working on the gleaming red cars. You lean over the table to see the monitor with the different strategies for the first practice session of the day. Charles walks towards you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Looking stunning with that frowned face y/n... As always.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. You have known Charles since his great season in Formula 2 back in 2017, by then you were already working as an internal race engineer in the Haas team, you were practically like Sheldon from the big bang theory - a brainiac. Upon meeting Charles there was an instant connection, it was as if you had always known each other, eventually, you were promoted from Haas to Ferrari in 2019, just the same year that Charles was promoted to the red team too, and ever since then the easy camaraderie between you has turned into something more... A secret, friends-with-benefits situation that both sets your heart ablaze and tears it in two.

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the cameras, Perceval. You know perfectly well I can take you down with a bad strategy any day.” you chuckled.

Charles feigns offense, but his laughter betrays him. You share a comfortable silence, a familiarity that speaks volumes. The moment is shattered by the arrival of Lewis Hamilton, the new star driver at Ferrari. Arriving at that first meeting at Maranello his gaze settles on you, a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes. Fred had offered you a change of position with Adami to be Lewis' race engineer, but the comfort and confidence you already had working with Charles made you decline the offer, likewise, working with a seven-time world champion is a privilege, since you can learn a lot from him, but you and Charles had practically grown up together at Ferrari and out of loyalty to him you stayed with him.

-

The following weeks are a whirlwind. Lewis tries to get close to you, and as a result, you end up having some dates and night-outs with him. He is charismatic, attentive, you dare to say that he's a bit similar to Charles in so many ways since both of them treat you with such care and kindness. You find yourself drawn to his confidence and outgoing demeanor, a stark contrast to Charles' usual genuine and soft care towards you. Guilt gnaws at you, but the thrill of something new is intoxicating... And with a little sadness in your heart, you decide to end things with Charles... At least for a little while you try to understand what your heart wants.

One night you went to Charles' apartment, and you entered with the extra key that he had given you a long time ago. Charles' apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the usual post-race buzz. You stand awkwardly in the living room, avoiding his gaze.

You gulped. “Charles... I think we need to talk.”

He looks up, a frown creasing his forehead. The air crackles with unspoken emotions. “Y/n what's wrong sweetie? Did I do something wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “It's about this.” you sigh. “This thing between us... It can go anymore.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air, Charles' frown deepens, his eyes searching yours. “Is it Lewis? Is this about him?” he asked.

The truth hangs on your tongue, a bitter pill to swallow. “Maybe, maybe not... The point is, things need to change... We need to take a break... At least for a little while.”

Charles stands abruptly, his frustration palpable. “Just like that? We throw away everything because of... what? Because some shiny new toy showed up?” His words sting, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes - a vulnerability you haven't seen before.

“It's not that simple, Charles. You know it's... Complicated.”

Tears well up in your eyes, this isn't how you imagined this conversation going. You practically run out of Charles' apartment, frustrated because you don't know if you did the right thing and at the same time you don't know if being with Lewis is the same as being with Charles... Because at the end of the day, he somehow manages to see through you and understand you on a level that Lewis cannot.

-

Days turn into weeks, you and Charles avoid each other. The only words that come out of your mouth are simply a "hello" and a "see you later", occasionally long sentences when you're giving him directions during the race or at the team debrief, the air is thick with unspoken tension. The joy has gone out of working at Ferrari... You see the way Lewis looks at you, but a hollow ache fills your chest. At night you constantly think about what you would be doing with Charles at that exact moment, perhaps cuddling up watching a movie, or a normal date at his house eating pizza, wearing matching socks and playing Mario kart... And even though Lewis takes you to glamorous galas, lavish dinners and so on, you don't complain about it, on the contrary, you're grateful for it, but, there's nothing like that instant connection with Charles.

One afternoon, Charles corners you near his car. His eyes are stormy, a mix of anger and something else you can't decipher.

You hear him sigh. “I miss you y/n... Like hell.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You miss him too, the easy banter, the way he understood you without words, the way his eyes spark every single time he was next to you.

“Charles... I...” you say shyly but he cuts you off, his voice rough.

“Don't... Don't tell me you miss Lewis...because if you do, I'll understand. But at least know this – this thing we have, it's real, at least for me. It's more than just crazy strategies and stolen kisses after victories. Maybe I haven't said it, haven't shown it the way you deserve, but I care about you, y/n... A lot.”

His confession hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable, you've never seen him that way. You can see the years of unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface. Tears prick your eyes, blurring the image of Charles in front of you.

A million things fight for dominance in your mind: the thrill of the new with Lewis, the comfortable companionship with Charles, the undeniable spark you share with him.

Taking a shaky breath, you meet his gaze.

”Charles, I... I don't know what I want... I mean, Lewis is exciting, a new challenge. But with you... it's different, it's easy, familiar, it's warm. But it's also... frustrating you know? You never give anything away, never let anyone in all the way.”

A flicker of pain crosses Charles' features. He reaches out, hesitantly placing a hand on your arm. “I'm scared y/n... Scared of losing you, scared of letting myself feel something this real. But if you're willing to take a chance, maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out together.” he says softly.

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken emotions. You look into Charles' eyes, searching for a glimpse of the future you both could have. The weight of the decision settles on your shoulders. You glance around the garage, the familiar red of the Ferraris a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. Lewis' confident smile flashes in your mind, but it's quickly replaced by the image of Charles' vulnerability, a side you've never seen before.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Charles' gaze, a flicker of determination replacing your earlier uncertainty.

“Okay Charles, let's figure this out... Together.” you say softly.

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him. He pulls you into a tight embrace, the scent of his familiar cologne grounding you, it feels like coming home.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for taking a chance on us.” he whispers in your ear.

You pull back slightly, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “Just don't expect me to lose in the strategy game anytime soon, Leclerc... This isn't over yet.”

Charles throws his head back and laughs, the tension finally breaking. He ruffles your hair affectionately.

“I wouldn't have it any other way amour... Wouldn't have it any other way.” he smiles. (love)

-

The garage and the pit wall is mostly deserted, the day's work winding down. You're packing up some of your things when Lewis approaches, a determined look in his eyes.

“Hey, y/n! Can I talk to you?” he asked with a friendly smile on his face.

You hesitate, then nod, gesturing towards a quiet corner. Lewis leans against a wall, his voice gets a little serious.

“I saw you and Charles... And I get it now, there's something there, a history I can't compete with.” There's a hint of disappointment in his voice, but mostly understanding.

“Lewis, I... I'm really sorry. Things just moved too fast too soon, and I realized what I was risking.” you say softly but Lewis offers a shy smile.

“No need to apologize, but follow your heart, y/n! That's all any of us can do... Besides, maybe next time on the track, I can finally knock your team off that top spot in the strategy battle.”

A genuine smile graces your lips. “Don't count on it, Hamilton. But hey, maybe we can grab a coffee sometime and hash out some friendly competition strategies. No promises on who'll win, though.”

Lewis chuckles, the tension dissipating. He extends his hand for a handshake. “Deal! And good luck with Charles. He's a lucky guy!”

You shake his hand, a newfound sense of clarity settling within you, he gives you a warm smile and a friendly hug. As Lewis walks away, you glance towards Charles, who's watching the exchange with a hint of possessiveness in his eyes. You catch his gaze and he winks at you, a silent promise hanging between you.

He walks towards you with a little smile on his face and takes you in his arms.

“So... How about we get out of here? I could use a real shower you know?” you say and Charles' smile widens, genuine relief washing over his features.

“Sounds like a plan. My place, or yours?” he asks softly.

The air hangs heavy with unspoken possibilities. You know this is a turning point in your relationship, a chance to rebuild something stronger.

“Your place only if you promise to make that killer pasta dish you always brag about.” you say teasingly.

Charles lets out a mock groan, but there's a twinkle in his eye. “Fine, fine. But you have to help me chop the vegetables! No bystanders in my kitchen, okay?” You laugh, the tension finally breaking. As you finally grab all of your things, Charles slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Come on, sweetcheeks. Let's get out of here before someone challenges me to another mario kart race.” he smiles softly. “You know I can't resist a good challenge, especially when you're involved.”

You nudge him playfully, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest.

”Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, Leclerc. But just you wait, next time I'm schooling you.”

Together you walk out of the garage, the setting sun casting an orange glow across the racetrack. The future is uncertain, but with a newfound commitment to each other, you're ready to face it head-on. You and Charles head towards his car, the promise of a home-cooked meal and a chance to reconnect hanging heavy in the air.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Love ur cillian fics!! Especially the singer ones!! Could you do cillian x younger singer reader inspired by Barry appearing in Sabrina’s please please music video!! Or just Barry and Sabrina in general…

Or

Cillian x younger singer reader inspired by how Taylor changes the lyric to “the guy on the chiefs…” when travis is watching

🌸🌸🌸

Lights, Camera, Cillian

(41)Cillian Murphy x (25)F! Singer Reader

Summary: Cillian gets to be apart of a music video.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: you're 4'11

soft! Cillian, cocky! Cillian, lovey dovey Cillian, kissing, lap sitting, age gap by 16 years.

Inspiration: Please Please Please - Sabrina Carpenter

The set was alive with the hum of activity, a symphony of controlled chaos, a hive of activity as crew members darted about, adjusting lights and setting up equipment. A controlled chaos that always came with the territory of shooting a music video.

The lights cast a warm glow, creating an ambiance that matched the mood of the song they were filming for: 'Please Please Please.' Crew members moved with purpose, adjusting cameras, perfecting lighting, and setting up props. The director's voice cut through the noise, orchestrating the myriad tasks with the precision of a maestro conducting an orchestra. The air was filled with a mixture of anticipation and the faint scent of coffee, the lifeblood of early morning shoots.

She stood inside the makeup trailer next to the love of her life; Cillian sat in the makeup chair, his posture relaxed yet his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thrived in front of the camera, but this was different. A music video required a different kind of performance, one that was more abstract and emotive. The makeup artist's brush moved expertly across his skin, adding subtle touches to enhance his natural features. The bright, overhead lights cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the deep blue of his eyes.

He glanced her way, who was standing a few feet away, talking animatedly with one of the crew members. She was a vision of grace and beauty, her petite yet chubby frame exuding an aura of confidence and poise. Her chubby cheeks, which he found irresistibly cute, were flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with creative fervor. She turned to look at him and her eyes met his, and she smiled, a gesture that always had a calming effect on him. He returned the smile, though it was tinged with a hint of nervousness.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched her, the corners of his lips twitching upward. Turning his attention back to the mirror in front of him, he quipped, "Haven't been in handcuffs in a while..." His witty remark was accompanied by a playful glint in his eye. Her response was immediate, her expression shifting to one of mock annoyance mixed with embarrassment. "Cill-...hush ..before I duck-tape your mouth shut." Cillian chuckled softly, the sound a deep, rich timbre that resonated in his chest. He met her gaze in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe...I'll hush if you give me a kiss, eh'?"

Her reaction was swift, the playful banter eliciting a smile that lit up her face. She crossed the short distance between them, her movements graceful and assured. The makeup artist, sensing the intimate moment, finished her work and discreetly moved to the other side of the room, leaving them in a bubble of privacy amidst the chaos. She reached out, her fingers gently lifting his chin, forcing him to look at her. The touch was soft, yet it held a firmness that brooked no argument. As she leaned in, her lips parting slightly, Cillian felt his heartbeat quicken, the anticipation building between them. He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a tender caress.

When their lips met, the world around them seemed to blur, fading into insignificance. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a melding of mouths that spoke volumes in its simplicity. Her lips were soft and warm, moving against his with a sweetness that belied the fiery passion lurking just beneath the surface. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth, seeking hers in a dance as old as time. Their tongues met, tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness. The kiss grew more intense, more fervent, as they lost themselves in the moment. Cillian's hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her close, while her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper into the embrace. The connection between them was palpable, a living, breathing thing that seemed to pulse with its own rhythm.

As they kissed, Cillian's mind wandered to the many moments they'd shared, the highs and lows of their relationship. This was just one more layer to their ever-evolving story, a testament to the love and trust that bound them together. The sound of the director's voice calling out that it's time barely registered with the both of them, their focus entirely on each other. Finally, they pulled away, breathless and flushed, their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding. Cillian smiled, a soft, affectionate curve of his lips that spoke volumes. "That was some kiss," he murmured, his Irish lilt adding a melodic quality to his words.

She laughed, a light, musical sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Well, I had to shut you up somehow," she teased, her eyes dancing with mirth.

He grinned, his heart swelling with love for the woman before him. "I'm not complaining, love. Not one bit."

The whole crew and everyone else involved were taking a lunch break. She sat comfortably in his lap, her petite frame fitting perfectly against him, her presence a soothing balm to the frenzy of the day. Cillian's phone was resting on her lap, allowing her to read along as he typed. It was a simple gesture of inclusion, a silent communication that spoke volumes about their closeness. Its screen lighting up occasionally with messages. He was responding to texts, but his attention was divided, his focus constantly drifting back to her. Her hand moved gracefully, picking up a plump, red strawberry from a bowl that was on a table next to them and brought it to her lips. She took a delicate bite, the juice staining her lips a deep crimson. The sight was mesmerizing, a small, intimate moment that felt like it was just for them.

She shifted slightly, her gaze catching his. A playful smile curved her lips as she picked up a strawberry from the bowl beside them. "Strawberry?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur as she held the ripe fruit up, turning her head to look at him fully.

Cillian's eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned her smile, a subtle warmth in his expression. He reached up, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the strawberry. The contact was brief but intimate, a silent acknowledgment of their bond. He brought the fruit to his lips, taking a delicate bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a delightful contrast to the faint tang of the earlier scene still lingering in his mind.

"Delicious," he murmured, his accent giving the word a soft, lilting quality. His fingertips lingered against her hand for a moment longer, tracing the delicate lines of her skin. There was something profoundly grounding about these small touches, a reminder of the simple pleasures that made life meaningful.

She giggled, a sound that seemed to lift the weight from his shoulders. "I'm glad you like it," she replied, her tone light and teasing. She leaned back against him, her head resting comfortably against his chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, a soothing counterpoint to the frenetic energy around them. He continued to text, his thumb moving deftly over the screen, but his focus was divided. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the scent of her hair mingling with the strawberries, created a cocoon of intimacy that made it hard to concentrate fully. He didn't mind; these moments were precious, a respite from the relentless demands of his career.

"Who are you texting?" she asked, her curiosity evident as she glanced down at the screen.

"Just checking in with my agent," he replied, his voice a low murmur against her ear. "Making sure everything's set for next week's shoot."

She nodded, her fingers idly playing with the hem of his shirt. "You work so hard, Cill." He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "And you don't? Look at you, running this whole show," he gestured around the set with a tilt of his head, his admiration clear in his voice. She blushed, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink. "It's different. This is just one video. You do this all the time." He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against her temple in a tender kiss. "Doesn't make it any less impressive. I'm proud of you."

Her eyes softened, and she shifted to look at him more directly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the background noise. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that tugged at his heartstrings, a reminder of how much she valued his support. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sounds their breathing and the distant clatter of dishes as the crew finished their lunch. Cillian continued to text, his free hand resting on her thigh, the simple contact grounding him in the moment.

"_______! _______! Over here!" A voice suddenly called out, breaking their serene bubble. Both of them turned toward the source of the voice, their expressions curious. It was one of the directors of her music video, a broad grin on his face as he waved enthusiastically. He held up his phone, capturing a quick photo before turning back to his work.

She wasn't upset by the intrusion; she merely shrugged, a resigned smile on her lips. Their relationship hadn't been officially confirmed to the public yet, and moments like these, while slightly invasive, were to be expected. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Guess our secret is gonna be out," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a musical lilt to his words.

She giggled, popping another strawberry into her mouth. "Oh well, it's not like we were hiding it very well," she replied, her voice light and teasing. "After all you are in this music video..."

Cillian sat in a cold, metal chair, his body tense with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He was clad in dark jeans and a simple white tank top; that contrasted sharply with the white dress she wore. She lay languidly on the worn couch, the white dress clinging to her curves, the slit in the stomach teasing a glimpse of her soft skin. Her eyes, full of intent and unspoken emotions, locked onto Cillian's. He mirrored her gaze, his hands resting on his head, fingers threading through his hair. His blue eyes held a mix of intensity and seduction, and as he bit his bottom lip, he projected an air of smoldering confidence.

The director called for silence, and the set fell into a hushed anticipation. The music began to play, its melancholic melody filling the air. She started to sing, her voice a sultry, captivating whisper. "If you wanna go and be stupid," she sang, her eyes never leaving Cillian's. The words dripped with a mix of challenge and allure, drawing him in. As she stood up and began to walk toward him, her movements were deliberate, each step echoing with purpose. She held up a pair of handcuffs, the metal glinting in the light, and dangled them in front of his face as she sang, "Don't do it in front of me." There was a playful defiance in her tone, a daring edge that sent a shiver down his spine.

Cillian’s mind raced, thoughts intertwining with the rhythm of the music. He knew his role, every action and reaction meticulously rehearsed, yet the raw energy of the moment made it feel new, almost dangerous. He kept his eyes on her, his breath shallow as she moved behind him, continuing her song. "If you don't wanna cry to my music," she sang, her voice wrapping around him like a silk rope. He dropped his arms as rehearsed, feeling the cold steel of the handcuffs snap around his wrists. Her touch was both gentle and firm, and he exhaled sharply, memories of more intimate settings flashing through his mind. There was a vulnerability in his position, a surrender that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

She picked up a roll of duct tape, and began to walk back to the front of him; her eyes flicking up to meet his as she bent down to meet his eye level. The air between them was electric, charged with the tension of the scene. She tore off a piece of tape; the proximity making his heart race. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the intensity of her gaze, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hands. As she placed the tape over his mouth, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. She cupped his face gently, pressing a kiss to the tape, a gesture that was both tender and taunting. His eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the sensation, the softness of her touch contrasting sharply with the roughness of the scene. She pulled away from his face leaving a big red kiss mark in the center of the tape.

She walked off camera, her figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the frame. The director’s voice broke the silence, "...AND THAT'S A WRAP!" The declaration echoed through the garage, and the crew erupted into applause, the tension of the shoot dissolving into relief and satisfaction. Cillian remained seated, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The handcuffs were quickly removed, and he rubbed his wrists, feeling the slight indentations left by the metal. She rushed back to him, her eyes sparkling with excitement and pride. The both of them went to hug each other. The crew bustled around, dismantling equipment and discussing the day's shoot, but for Cillian everything else seemed to blur into insignificance. All he could focus on was the woman in his arms, her petite frame fitting perfectly against him, her warmth and presence a soothing balm to his earlier nerves. He cupped her face gently, his fingers grazing the soft, delicate skin of her cheeks. His thumbs traced the gentle curve of her jaw, his touch tender and reverent. Her eyes, wide and filled with emotion, locked onto his, a mixture of relief, pride, and love shining within their depths. She was beautiful, radiating a glow that seemed to light up the entire room.

"Baby, I'm so proud of you," he murmured, his Irish accent giving his words a lyrical, intimate quality. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, each word imbued with the depth of his feelings. His eyes, a striking blue, bore into hers, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her breathe catch in her throat.

As he leaned in, time seemed to slow. The noise and movement around them faded into a distant hum, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. His lips met hers with a slow, deliberate tenderness that quickly blossomed into something more powerful, more urgent. The kiss was intense, a mingling of breath and emotion that spoke of their deep connection, their shared passion. In that moment, it was as if nothing else existed. The warmth of her body against his, the taste of her lips, the soft sigh that escaped her as they kissed—all of it combined to create a cocoon of intimacy that shut out the rest of the world. He could feel her heartbeat, quick and steady, mirroring his own, a rhythmic reminder of their bond. When he finally broke the kiss, they remained close, their foreheads touching, breathing in sync. Silence enveloped them, a comfortable, shared silence that spoke volumes. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. His eyes never left hers, filled with a mixture of admiration and adoration.

"You were incredible out there," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have no idea how proud I am of you."

She smiled, a shy, almost bashful smile that made his heart swell with affection. "I couldn't have done it without you, Cillian. You being here means everything to me."

Author's Notes:

I think I’m getting burnt out guys..ahhh; please forgive me if this is ass.

The other asks are being worked on, I just need to recoup.

I hope I did this right, either I'm dumb which is a really good option; which...yeah that's probably it. But yeah its like a behind the scenes of the music video lolz, I'd had to watch; but I do like the song; 100% helps is she has a behind the scenes video for it so yeahhhh.

[lieutenant-mcmuffin]

FUCKING BLOWN AWAY BY THIS WEEKEND

I have a photo-op with Misha tomorrow and I'm so nervous. This has been a whirlwind of amazing and insane experiences.

It almost felt hollow to meet Jensen because it went by so fast, and part of you wants to feel like you mattered to someone you've watched on TV for so long, and I know the fans matter to the guys of course, but on an individual level it's almost impossible because of the sheer volume of people they meet. It was amazing, though. Jensen made prolonged eye contact with me and Misha, Mark, and Ruth said my artwork was amazing, and DJ told me my name was beautiful 🥹 Sam was so kind and she is so so so gorgeous, Richard Speight had an entire conversation with me about my city and Billy Moran congratulated me on this being my first convention 😭

[jgoddesstarot]

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

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🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, King of Cups, Strength, 6 of Pentacles, The Devil

My charming Pile 1's, your first encounter with your future spouse will be nothing short of a magical whirlwind.

The 3 of Pentacles opens your reading, a sign of mutual effort and collaboration. Upon meeting your spouse, you'll quickly notice their dedication and commitment not just to their work, but to their relationships. You'll be drawn to their ability to harmonize, to create beautiful things from raw materials. They'll be a listener, a collaborator, a willing partner in the dance of life.

However, the 9 of Swords indicates an element of worry or fear. This may stem from past experiences or uncertainties about the future. My dear Pile 1's, remember that it's normal to feel a degree of anxiety when meeting someone who strikes your very soul with such impact. Take this as a sign of the depth of the connection you're about to form.

The King of Cups, combined with the Strength card, speaks volumes about their emotional maturity and strength of character. They'll approach you with compassion, kindness, and an emotional depth that you may find incredibly appealing. Their strength will not be the loud, brash kind, but the quiet resilience that comes from a deep emotional understanding and control of their feelings.

Next, the 6 of Pentacles suggests a person of generosity, someone who believes in sharing their wealth—be it material or emotional—with those around them. You'll be touched by their willingness to offer support and kindness without expecting anything in return.

Lastly, The Devil card may appear ominous, but in this context, it signals a strong physical attraction and passion between you and your future spouse. There's a magnetic pull that you can't ignore, a raw, all-encompassing desire that will both scare and excite you.

In conclusion, Pile 1's, your tarot spread paints a picture of a first meeting that is both emotionally profound and physically intense. You'll encounter someone who's emotionally mature, supportive, passionate, and a little bit intimidating. However, remember that the butterflies in your stomach are merely signs of the deep connection you are about to form. Embrace this moment, my dears. After all, love is all about taking the leap into the great unknown.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 2 of Wands, Ace of Cups, Knight of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Pentacles

Hello, my Pile 2's. Your tarot spread starts with the 2 of Wands, signaling that your first reaction to your future spouse will be one of intrigue and fascination. This card suggests a world of possibilities, hinting at the adventure that your relationship will become. There will be this undeniable urge to know more, to explore the depths of this individual and the potential of your union.

The Ace of Cups following indicates that this curiosity will soon blossom into profound emotional affection. It promises a rush of emotions, a surge of feelings that may feel overwhelming, but in the best possible way. This person will trigger a depth of emotion within you that you may not even know you were capable of experiencing, but you'll adore every moment of this whirlwind.

The Knight of Wands further suggests an exciting, passionate energy. This person will ignite a fiery spark within you, one that fuels your spirit and drives you forward. Your future spouse's charisma and zest for life will both inspire and thrill you. They'll be someone whose enthusiasm is infectious and whose spirit is impossible to resist.

The King of Swords, however, brings a note of caution. This person will challenge you intellectually, forcing you to question and push your boundaries. They'll be sharp-tongued, cunning, and wise beyond their years. At times, you may feel slightly intimidated by their intelligence and their ability to cut through to the heart of matters, but remember, this intellectual stimulation is a vital part of your connection.

Finally, the Queen of Pentacles ensures that alongside this intellectual challenge, there's also a deep-rooted stability. Your future spouse will be grounded, dependable, and nurturing, providing a firm foundation for your relationship. They'll care for you in a way that is both practical and loving, making you feel cherished and valued.

In conclusion, my beautiful Pile 2's, your future spouse will be an intoxicating blend of intellectual stimulation, emotional depth, and passionate fire. They will be both your safe harbor and your grand adventure, a person who will make your heart flutter and your mind whirr. Though it may feel like a roller coaster at times, remember to embrace the ride. After all, isn't that what makes life—and love—so thrilling?

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: 4 of Swords, 5 of Swords, Justice, The Lovers, Knight of Swords

Welcome, my beautiful Pile 3's. Let's delve into the magic that lies within the cards and recognize what they hold for your first impression upon meeting your future spouse.

The 4 of Swords greets us first, denoting a sense of calm and tranquility. Your initial encounter with your future spouse will likely be one of peace and stillness. They may not be the loudest in the room, but there's a quiet strength about them that will draw you in, a serene confidence that speaks volumes.

Next, we have the 5 of Swords, a card that often symbolizes conflict or tension. But don't be alarmed, dear Pile 3's! This tension isn't a harbinger of distress but rather an intriguing spark, a stirring frisson that piques your interest. There's a healthy intellectual debate, a spirited exchange of views that will leave you both exhilarated and intrigued.

Our third card, Justice, appears to tell us that your future spouse will strike you as fair and balanced. They have a strong moral compass and a deep commitment to truth and integrity. This sense of justice will manifest as a refreshing honesty and transparency that will resonate deeply with you.

The Lovers card then presents itself, signifying deep affection, romantic love, and unification. This speaks to the instant emotional connection you will feel with your future spouse. They will engage your heart in a way that feels both magical and incredibly real, sparking a connection that feels as if it was written in the stars.

Finally, we come to the Knight of Swords, a card that embodies determination, action, and intellectual prowess. This suggests that your future spouse will impress you with their ambition and drive. They'll have a clear vision of what they want in life and the determination to achieve it, which will inspire you to pursue your own goals with renewed vigor.

In conclusion, my captivating Pile 3's, meeting your future spouse will be a profound experience that will stir your soul. They will be a quiet storm of tranquility, intellectual stimulation, integrity, deep affection, and ambition. Embrace this journey, for it leads to a love that’s both exhilarating and deeply grounding. After all, your future spouse isn't just anyone—they're the person with whom you're destined to share a love written in the stars.

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[tokkiwrites]

in which kraven gets very jealous and needs to remind y/n that she's his. this is a continuation to another one-shot i wrote (check pinned 📌)

tags: keaven x fem!reader, afab!reader, use of y/n because yes, dom!kraven, kind of dark kraven of you squint, sub!reader, degradation, deah (mentioned like twice), pet names (kraven calls reader doll, bun, bunny, pet), kraven likes to be called master (ik right?!?!?), p in v sex unprotected (don't be whimpy, wrap that pp), lmk if i missed anything !!!

it was O8:O4 PM, where was she? she'd been such a good obedient pet up until now. Is this the moment she wanted to slip? as those thoughts fill kraven's mind, the sound of keys jangling at the door snaps him awake.

she's here.

y/n timidly pushed open the door to her cozy apartment. A faint blush graced her cheeks as she entered, her sparkling eyes revealing a hint of embarrassment.

she knows she's late.

Carrying her books and course materials, y/n's steps were light, almost as if she tiptoed through the space. Her frame was adorned in a pastel sundress that swayed with every movement. A subtle floral fragrance trailed behind her, making kraven visibility hard.

As she walked further into the apartment, she set her books down onto the couch before stopping in front of kraven, who was sat in the doorway to her room.

" 'm sorry for being late. "

"care to explain why you're late, bunny?"

" had to stay a bit more at uniㅡ teacher said he needed my help with something."

he...

HE?!

"what did he need that was so important, bunny, hm?" kraven stepped closer to y/n, dragging his calloused finger over her rosy cheek.

moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a cold glow on them. It was evident that kraven wasn't going to let her off with just a warning, no matter what the motive for her being late is.

With a sigh that ragged through her throat, y/n looked up at kraven through her lashes, hoping he'd at least be a bit more endearing this time.

"answer me, doll. y'know i hate when you make me ask twice, yeah?" y/n swallows thick, nodding her head in response. "heㅡ um, he wanted me to ask where i got my p-perfume fromㅡ he wants to get it for his, uh.. girlfriend..."

kraven's gaze sharpened, turning into a piercing stare that seemed to bore into her soul. His jaw clenched. "that so?"

his silent but intense gaze spoke volumes, conveying the deep displeasure with the situation. "p-please don't do anythingㅡ he was only being nice-"

But her words were abruptly silenced by her boyfriend's stern command, "quiet."

A shiver ran down y/n's spine as she felt a mix of fear and anticipation. She knew she should run, remove herself from the brewing storm, but something inside her hesitated. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins or the thrill of the forbidden, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

Her heart raced, and a warm, tingling sensation spread through her belly. It was a confusing mix of emotions - fear, desire, and a hint of excitement. She wanted to reach out to him, to ease his worries, but the intensity of his gaze had her frozen in place.

In that charged moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and she couldn't deny the want of the storm that threatened to consume them bothㅡ her even more.

As the tension hung heavily in the room, kraven took a slow, deliberate step towards her, his eyes still locked onto hers. His earlier anger seemed to have evolved into a complex whirlwind of emotions, making his intentions unclear.

y/n's heart pounded louder in her chest, her breaths shallow as she watched him approach. She couldn't decipher what he was thinking, but a part of her yearned for his touch, even in this moment of uncertainty.

His other hand, which had been clenched tightly at his side, slowly reached out, hesitatingly brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "beg."

"s-sorryㅡ?" she stammered, her voice trembling. "i said beg. beg if you don't want me to take you to his house, fuck you in front of him then rip apart his body right after."

"k-kraven Iㅡ"

"so you want that."

"god, no! 'course i don't i justㅡ he was just being friendly, you know..." she whispered, her voice quivering. "you know I'm only yours."

kraven's face contorted with a mixture of anger and jealously, eyes glinting gold. y/n's words hung in the air. His grip on her hair tightened slightly, causing a sharp pain that made her wince.

"think that's enough, bunny?" he hissed. " think you can just say those words and everything will be fine? you are mine and that's why I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take you away from me."

kraven's words were laced with possessiveness, and y/n could see the turmoil within him. she struggled to find the right words to soothe his anger, but at the same time she wanted to let her mind go blank. in this moment ㅡ his idea sounded kind of good.

for a long, tense moment, kraven didn't speak. The room felt suffocating.

"on your knees."

"whㅡ" taken by surprize, she's pushes down, making a loud thud as she hit the cold floor.

"c'mon, bunny...you know what i want." he smiles darkly, hand still tangled in y/n's hair. "make that pretty head of yours think and tell me what i want to hear, yeah?"

kraven's smile sent a shiver down her spine. she knew what he wanted from her. Her mind raced, struggling to find the wordsㅡ her heard pounding in her chest, the loud thumps echoing in her head, nothing was accepting to leave her lips, it was all getting stuck.

"c'mon, doll. don't make me wait." he growls menacingly.

"p-pleaseㅡ" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "please, i know I've been bad. and iㅡ i need to be punished for what i did, i shouldn't have worn that perfume to his class."

"yeah.." he hums reaching for her chin and making y/n loon up "but you were a little whore who wanted to get attention, yeah?"

"y-yes.."

"guess i should fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?"

the room seemed to close in on her, the tension and lust between them so palpable. "gotta hear you beg more, though. gotta hear you cry before i fuck you stupid."

fear gripped her heart, the intensity of his demands and his dark demeanor filled her with a deep sense of the situation. Simultaneously, desire smoldered within her. His possessiveness, his filthy wordsㅡ the raw power he exuded ignited something in her she couldn't explain. the intensity of his words, though tinged with danger, had a mesmerizing effect on her.

towering above her, in the night's veil, kraven was shrouded in darkness, his presence like a labyrinth and his power over y/n like an unsolved puzzleㅡ an unspoken rule.

she should be more scared of him, yet she sits there and takes it, each of his commands, she obeys and does as she's told. his strength was evident in every moveㅡ he didn't need to say a word. he's a silent tempest that leaves an indelible mark.

y/n leans in forward, palms flush to the floor "please show meㅡ show me how to be good, please... i don't wanna think, jus' want to be you dumb bunnyㅡ"

"you're so pathetic, doll. even from the first day i saw you, i could smell it on you... could smell you were made for taking this cockㅡㅡ made for me to break and use."

y/n presses her thighs together, her panties now wet with her slick, sticking to the fold of her pussy. "k-kravenㅡ"

slap.

"wrong." he chuckles murkily "try it again, pet."

y/n sniffles, her cheeks stinging from the harsh slap delivered to it. "master."

"see, that wasn't so hard, huh? now...you gonna be a good girl and listen to me?"

"y-yes, master."

kraven hums, rubbing his finger onto the cheek he slapped, smiling contently as the skin flushed a bright red.

"get undressed and bend over the counter. now."

y/n swiftly compiles, scrambling to her feet and discarding the frilly dress she had on. her skin tightened as the cold air hit it. even so, she still removed her panties that had accumulated a big wet splotch in the middle of them.

obliging kraven's orders, she bends over the counter, her bare ass and cunt on full display. "mm.." kraven licks his lips before palming the small of her back "so pretty for me, bunny."

she completely shattered under his touch, his fingertips drawing small fires that spread through her in clusters, a desperate whine escaping past her lips.

"master, pleaseㅡ" kraven strongly grabs her by the hair, pulling her in a way that makes y/n arch her back. he leans into her ear, his enormous bulge pressing firmly against y/n's ass.

"did i say you can talk yet? are you so dumb, bun?"

y/n shakes her head, mewling at the sensation of kraven's facial hair against her skin.

"wanted to fuck you stupid, but since you're such a dumb whore already ㅡ maybe if i fuck you hard enough ... I'll bring some sense in that pretty brain of yours, yeah?"

y/n bites back another moan, succumbing to kravens touch, his palms making their way up her torso and to her breasts, kneading them roughly.

pushing back her hips in gripe, she manages to gets her face unwaveringly pressed to the countertop "don't be greedy now, doll. gotta see you work for it..." with that he nimbly plunged two fingers into y/n's mouth, making her gasp.

"suck if you want this cock inside of you, pet."

that's all she needed to hear, fleetly wrapping her lips around his thick fingers, sucking and swirling her tongue around them like there was no tomorrow. drool started to drip down her chin, her moans vibrating vigorously onto kravens skin.

pushing the fingers deeper, he wins a muffled gag, her tongue pressed flush against them. "yeah, good fucking pet." her walls were twitching around nothing, her warm wetness spreading between her thighs that were parted by kraven's knee.

he retrieves his fingers from her mouth, y/n starting to pule at their sudden lack. kravens laughs, as if mocking her at the same time pulling his sweatpants down only a bit, letting his dripping cock spring free and slap against his abdomen.

"want me to prep you, doll?"

"n-no, masterㅡ please..."

"fuck, bunny, ill rip right through you." he smiles somberly "you're such a filthy, filthy girl."

inhaling a sharp breath, her muscles tense up as kraven plunges inside of her wetness all at once, with no warning. she writhes in pain, tears already welling at the corner of her glossy eyes.

"fuck, look at that tight pussy swallowing me all in." he groans, sinking his fingernails into the plush of her skin "c'mon, doll, show me you're sorry for being such an attention whore. show me you're sorry so i don't kill that bitch and fuck you over his dead body."

it was all so wrong, so dirty and vile, but it was making her tummy churn and blood pulse through her veins like nothing else. she felt so insane for liking the ideas kraven put into her head, she loved feeling insane as long as he was with her.

her head now filled with murky thoughts, vision hazy, y/n feels her body being plunged further into the kitchen surface, hips violently crashing agains the hard material. "you take this cock so well, bunnyㅡ fuck!"

his movements become so fast, it sends y/n practically into another dimensionㅡ at least that's how she feels. her eyes roll back, and for a second, she's pretty sure she can see into the future.

"gonna come, bunny? huh? you gonna come around my cock?"

"yes, m-aster!" her body feels warm and fuzzy as she senses her orgasm approaching. "p-leaseㅡ!"

"go ahead, doll." kraven grunts, hitting that spot perfectly. he feels himself close too, brows furrowed as he pushes inside deeper and harder. "shitㅡ bunny, I'm gonna fill you up so good. gonna make you keep this cum inside of you all day."

with a loud plead, y/n releases, her walls tightening around kravens shaft, causing him to growl. she starts shaking, her thighs uncontrollably wriggling, barely holding herself up if it wasn't for the counter.

kraven pumps himself a few more times, at last releasing and painting y/n's insides with warm, white ribbons. they're both left panting, y/n babbling incoherently.

"thank y-ou, kraven.."

"you liked it?" he asked, amused. "so that's why you keep on misbehaving, bun. "

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎  토끼's NOTE : hi guys!!! this might have some grammar mistakes, oh WELL. its 2.1k words so kind of short SORRAYYY, wrote this for a special someone u know who u are wink wink ;) but thank you all for supporting me, i know im at the beginning of my journey, but I've already grown so much. hope you enjoyed day 7 of tokki's kinktober <3 (now proofread !!)

[ghuleh-recs]

Hey did you know one of my favorite people was born today?! It's @ramblingoak's birthday and it feels very fitting to me that she gets the first mixtape: volume two (you can find vol. 1 here)! As per usual, I have compiled a list of some of my favorite fics to celebrate Oak Day.

Where to even begin with Oakie? Well you'd be hard-pressed to find a more supportive person in this entire fandom. She's an incredible friend who always ALWAYS has a kind word to add in the tags and/or a sexy photo of papa to brighten your day when you need it most. If that weren't enough, Oak is a truly wonderful writer. I dare you to find a collection of works that feel more cinematic. I reread her writing whenever I need to feel something™—which is to say: often.

All that to say: Oakie I adore you and hope you have a fantastic birthday. Everyone go leave some kudos and comments as a lil gift. Or maybe even a birthday tip!!

recs under the cut.

Clockwork Hearts - Copia x Reader T, 3.7k

The Ghost universe set in a world of machines and magic. This takes place in a new alternate universe series I'm working on, Clockwork Hearts. Eventually there will be a Copia x Reader main story but for now I've been working on small little fics that take place in that world and I'll be adding them here.

Wholesome Headcanons - Primo Thinking About His Brothers - Primo G, 1.3k

Someone on Tumblr asked for any wholesome Papa headcanons I had and I rambled about how Primo felt about his younger brothers. Perhaps a spiritual sequel to Dumbasses.

Naps With Copia - Copia x Reader G, 8.9k

Just a series of drabbles/ficlets featuring you napping with Copia throughout the abbey.

The Repugnant - Mary Goore x Reader E, 4.6k

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Tales From Lucifer's Hollow - everybody x everybody E, 15.6k

Short snippets of what life is like for the ghouls and humans that live in the picturesque (and Satanic!) town of Lucifer's Hollow. This is an alternate universe series I'm working on that will feature lots of drabbles and one-shots here as well as longer fics focused on particular pairings in the future. To begin with most of these will be based on the prompts for Mushy May on Tumblr.

Another Round - Secondo x Reader E, <1k

Just some all night worship with your Papa…

To Tease A Cardinal - Copia x Reader E, 3k

While your Cardinal is away on tour you can't help but tease him from the comforts of his own bed…

Shooting His Shot - Terzo x Omega E, <1k

It's the Winter Olympics and Omega gets distracted hearing his favorite ABBA song playing nearby…

Copia on ICE! - Copia x Reader E, 14.8k

At what would probably be your final Winter Olympics you needed to focus on realizing your dream of winning gold. You definitely didn't need to start a whirlwind romance with world famous speed skater Copia Emeritus…

Suggestions - Copia x Swiss T, 1k

From a prompt list on Tumblr, an Anon wanted Papa x Swiss with a kiss "as a suggestion"! a very thorough kiss with some suggestive stuff after hehe

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

You've always got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[vernons-girl]

Hi hii, i'm here to request another comfort Jun fic. He deserves more fics written about him he's such a healing soul :(( maybe something about Jun being down or insecure and reader just comforting him? Honestly you can choose plot just put some heavy angst and hurt/comfort into it please. You're amazing, keep writing <33

( also i might be a regular anon so is it okay if i be your 🥯 anon )

a glimmer of hope | wen junhui

angst,hurt to comfort,w.c:0.4k a/n: thank you for your request, this is really short i'm sorry :( but i hope you'll like it!! and ofc you can be my🥯 anon! this is so cute kfjvdkjvj (you're my first anon omg)

Jun sat on the edge of your shared bed, his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly together. The weight of insecurity bore down on his shoulders like a heavy burden, pressing him deeper into the abyss of self-doubt. His thoughts were a whirlwind of negativity, each one a sharp blade tearing away at his fragile confidence.

He had always struggled with feeling inadequate, never quite measuring up to the expectations he imagined others had of him. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed like he was always falling short, always disappointing those around him. His mind echoed with voices of criticism, both real and imagined, each one chipping away at his sense of self-worth.

In the dimly lit room, he felt utterly alone, suffocated by the darkness that seemed to seep into every corner of his being. He longed for someone to understand, someone to reach out and pull him from the depths of his despair.

And then you appeared, he suddenly saw light in the darkness, was it the light from the living room or your presence ? It didn't matter to him, because you were here.

Sensing something was off, you approached him cautiously, your steps soft against the floorboards as you made your way to his side. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a silent gesture of support.

Jun flinched at your touch, his muscles tensing beneath your gentle grip. He felt unworthy of your kindness, undeserving of your compassion. But still, he couldn't bring himself to push youaway.

"What's wrong, Jun?" you asked softly.

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat like shards of glass. How could he possibly articulate the storm raging inside him, the crippling fear that threatened to consume him whole?

"I... I just feel like I'm not good enough," he finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his words, the pain etched into every syllable. You knelt beside him, your eyes meeting his with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes.

"You are more than enough, Jun," you said firmly, voice tinged with conviction. "You are strong, and capable, and worthy of love and acceptance. Don't let anyone, not even yourself, convince you otherwise." you declared.

Tears welled up in Jun's eyes, his defenses crumbling in the face of your unwavering support. He leaned into your touch, seeking solace in the warmth of your embrace.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to believe your words, to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was deserving of happiness after all.

And in that fleeting moment of vulnerability, surrounded by the darkness and the pain, he found a glimmer of hope—a fragment of strength to carry him through the darkest of nights : you.

[leejenowrld]

ghostin’ na jaem, teaser 1

comment to be added to the tag list

synopsis after being brutally dumped by your ex hyunjin, you’re living a broken life, lost in the consumption of getting high and heartbreak. then you meet na jaemin, a one-night stand transforms into a bond. he becomes the catalyst for your healing. but can you genuinely break free from the attachment to your toxic ex? between newfound connection and lingering attachments, will you move on or hold on?

genre big angst, fluff

teaser word count 1.2k

current word count for part 1 - 12k

author note the first of three sneak peaks and teasers for my new three part series, ghostin’ want more information about the series? read the masterlist here. thank you for your patience, this is something to look forward to whilst i finish off the first part :)

author note this series takes major inspiration from the ariana grande song ‘ghostin’ and also the prettymuch song ‘phases’ please listen to both while reading this, you can by clicking on the links above. the teaser below is teaser scenes from the series which are inspired from lyrics of each song :)

“i realised you are destined and meant to be mine”

“till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases”

“even though you ain’t mine it’s the fact that i’m yours”

Arguing with Jaemin had become the worst thing in the world. In the midst of the heated exchange, Jaemin stands before you with a demeanour untouched by the storm around. His expression, as steady as ever, portrays an unwavering calm. As your emotions spill over, he absorbs the turmoil with the patience of someone who understands your vulnerability and the fragility. He knows you well, he knows how he should react.

While you unleash a torrent of words, Jaemin remains silent, a stoic figure in the face of emotional chaos. His stillness is a counterpoint to your passionate outburst. Tears stream down your face, and the intensity of the moment becomes palpable. You're caught in the whirlwind of emotions, uncertain of the origin of these words and unsure if regret will follow.

You yell and yell until your voice stops. "We're only fucking, this is only sex. You're not my boyfriend, and I never, ever said that this was more. I never gave you the fucking impression, so you are not allowed to stand there and tell me that — you are not — for fuck sake, Jaemin! I am not yours!!!!!"

The room absorbs the weight of your words, each syllable hanging in the air. Your outburst lays bare the complexities of your connection, an unspoken tension finally breaking free. Jaemin, still and silent, absorbs the storm, his expression a canvas of unreadable emotions.

"Stop trying to push me away because I'm not going anywhere. I'm not. You may not be mine, but I'm always gonna be yours."

Finally breaking his silence, Jaemin's words resonate with a softness that mirrors his calm demeanour and is a contrast to your outburst. His tone remains a gentle stream, never rising in volume. His consistent kindness, a pillar of your relationship, manifests in this moment, leaving you pondering what you've done to deserve such understanding.

"And what the fuck do you mean you're not mine? You're my girl. You're mine. You have been mine, and you're always going to be mine. I don't know if you're in denial or if you're just being delusional, but you know it. We're each other's; we belong together. So stop trying to fucking push me away. The more you push me away, the more I'm gonna need you.”

His words, delivered with unwavering calmness, echo through the room, emphasizing not just his assertion of your connection but also the depth of his patience and understanding. The room echoes with your cries until your voice fades into an uneasy silence.

Finally breaking, you melt into his arms, your grip tight as if afraid he might slip away. He holds you even closer. His lips brush against your forehead in a sweet and tender kiss, a gesture that echoes the gentleness of his soul. The way he cradles you, patient and understanding, contrasts the storm within you.

His chest offers a soft and broad expanse that feels like a safe haven. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing beneath your touch becomes a soothing lullaby, grounding you in the present moment. His arms, strong and reassuring, encircle you in a protective hold. The gentle pressure of his grip is a silent promise that he won't let go, that he'll weather the storm with you.

“you’ve been so understanding, you’ve been so good, and i’m putting you through more than one ever should”

Tears well up, distorting your vision into a blurry haze. The world around you dissolves into indistinct shapes and dark color as the weight of self-loathing and disappointment descends upon you. In this moment, you can't escape the haunting realisation that you've inflicted this pain upon yourself.

You're too out of it to even notice what's going on around you—scared and worried looks from all your friends circling around, creating a protective barrier. The air is tense with arguing and back-and-forth discussions as it's happened again; you've relapsed.

Amidst the chaos, Jaemin is the one you focus on, your eyes are always on him. Though you can't hear what he's saying, the determination in his eyes speaks volumes. He defends you and fights for you in a way no one ever has, a way you're not accustomed to. Jaemin knows what's best for you; he understands you more than anyone else ever could. Having seen you in your most vulnerable and broken state, he remains the only one who doesn't look at you with disappointment, even you look at yourself with such self loathing.

Jaemin's unconditional support shines as a testament to his understanding and kindness, a stark contrast to the judgement you feel, even from yourself. His role is clear—to be the anchor in the storm, standing by your side with a love that sees past the brokenness, reminding you that you are more than your struggles.

Kneeling down, Jaemin locks eyes with you, holding your hands firmly in his. In this moment, it's just you and him. Suddenly, you're transported to a safer place where the stares from all around dissipate. His soft smile reassures you as he gently takes away the bottle in your hand, screwing it shut and tossing it aside. He replaces it with his own bottle, opening your mouth with his gentle fingertips and feeding you water with unwavering attention.

Amidst the tearful haze, you can't break away from his gentle gaze. Surprisingly, there's no anger, only a calm and collected demeanour. You’re not used to someone looking at you like this. Tears stream down your face, and you feel guilt, but he remains unfazed. His voice is calm yet firm as he assures you, "You did nothing wrong?”

Shaking your head frantically, he’s not right, you fucked up again, like always. However you're met with his continued calmness. "Baby, you did nothing wrong. You made a mistake. So what? You can learn from it. I'm always here for you; I'm not going anywhere. I'll hold your hand through every second of this."

In that tender moment, Jaemin's gentle voice becomes a soothing melody, instructing you to take slow, deep breaths. His hand rests softly on your back, the rhythmic rise and fall a reassuring cadence. With each inhale, he encourages you to let go of the tension, and with every exhale, the weight of the world seems to lift.

His words are a lifeline, grounding you in the present, steering your focus away from the turmoil within. Jaemin's fingers provide a subtle rhythm, a tactile reminder that you are not alone in this struggle. As you follow his lead, the air transforms into a calming force, diluting the anxiety that had gripped you.

“i’m hating myself because you don’t want to admit that it hurts you”

“i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, instead of ghosting him”

Your face reveals it all – guilt and sadness etched into every expression. A simple look into your eyes is enough for him to understand, and you know that he knows. He's dressed up and you’re not sure why, he hides something behind his back, leaving you curious about what he had planned. He asks, soft spoken. "You went back to him, didn't you?"

comment to be added to tag list for the upcoming fic and future teasers

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl

[onboardsorasora]

My brain hurts and I'm watching Project Runway. Please do not perceive me lmao

Fashion designer Daniel who has to dress new IT model/entrepreneur Max for a big fashion event. Daniel is well known for his volume and prints and structure and Max is a minimalist who wants none of that. He would much rather wear a vneck and jeans than half the things he wears for photoshoots.

When Daniel asks him what he wants him to design, Max jokes and says just that, a vneck and jeans. Daniel is floored and thinks he’s taking the piss. Why was he hired, if Max didn’t want anything he could produce.

“Honestly, my manager chose you.” Max shrugs and leans against a bare wall. Daniel is flabbergasted maybe. “I agreed because I thought you were cute.”

“What?” Daniel didn’t think he was serious. But Max didn’t laugh.

Max spends the entire consultation time flirting with Daniel who literally couldn’t help himself. Max goes home with Daniel and they spend the two weeks leading up to the event together in a sort of whirlwind romance. He’s in Daniel’s studio and watches him work on other commissions from the bed they fuck and cuddle in. He admires how massive Daniel’s personality is and how he uses that to transform his pieces. Because Daniel– the person is smaller, lithe and compact in his body. But his smile is wide and his character is larger than life.

He tells Daniel this, wooing him with his truth and Daniel can’t help but fall in love with Max. He’s magnetic. Straightforward and kind. Daniel watches Max sleep in, watches him be confident in his skin, in his looks. His laugh and smile make him completely different from ‘model’ Max. Max is a total babe and a boy next door and Daniel thinks he’s the sexiest when his hair is messy from his hands running through it all the time. Or when he’s complaining that someone is cheating in FIFA online. Daniel loves his lisp and how his face scrunches when he’s truly happy.

Max goes on the red carpet for his event in the world's most perfect white v neck tshirt, that emphasizes his broad shoulders and perfect chest, and blue jeans that hug his thighs and ass.

Daniel’s love letter to him.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Strokes of Fate | pt. 1

paring: Feyre x Rhysand | type: angst | words: 3,4k words | warnings: none | masterlist

"You see what the painting looks like, right?" Rhys huffs loudly, flashing his best friends an incredulous look over his shoulder. The CEO's stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands in the pockets of his pants, shoulders slightly slouched, expression incredulous. 

Rain drops cascade down the glass, the coming storm mirroring the whirlwind brewing inside of him. The painting was a present, but—

"It reminds me of a pile of trash," Cassian, his best friend, hollers and tilts his head to the side to examine the painting again. His eyes narrow and he brings up a hand, folding three fingers over his mouth. 

"It could also be two plastic bags…filled with trash," Azriel adds, fighting the urge to laugh. 

Rhysand flips both of them off when he finally fully turns to them. "Idiots," he grumbles but when his eyes land upon the painting he has to agree with their descriptions. The figures on the painting could truly be mistaken for trash. He has absolutely no idea what the three objects should even display, but he truly hopes his friend didn't try to paint him, Az and Cass and rather aimed for something abstract. 

Cassian lounges comfortably on the plush couch, legs crossed at the ankles, Azriel next to him in an armchair, both chuckling at the awfulness that graces the wall behind Rhysand's desk. 

"You know, I truly appreciate all kind of art, " Rhysand says, turning slightly to look at the painting once again, then back to his friends. His voice carries a tone of bemusement, tinged with a hint of annoyance. "But this... piece of art looks like someone let loose a child with a crayon and then called it a masterpiece."

Cassian chuckles, the sound a welcome relief in the otherwise gloomy atmosphere. "Well, she isn't the tallest…one could sometimes mistake her for a child. I am sure her pants are child-sized."

Azriel cackles, but the CEO only rolls his eyes at his two idiotic friends. 

"What do I do now?" Rhysand turns away from them again, looking at the rain-covered window once more. "How do I get rid of it? And how do I get a good painting for my office instead?"

"What? You don't like the painting Amren made for you?" Morrigan, his cousin, appears on the threshold, red heels eliciting a clicking sound with every step she takes into the office. "I warned you about her artistic talent, but you wouldn't listen." 

If someone looked close enough they would have seen that Azriel's breath caught for a small second, a flicker of a moment, but the man quickly turns his attention back to Rhys, waiting for him to answer.

The blond female tosses a pile of papers onto her cousin's desk and grins at him. "It truly looks like a tornado broke loose and whooshed all over the canvas."

"That's also a great description," Cassian quips, air-high-fiving Morrigan who winks at him. 

"You need to give her more work to do. She has too much free time and gets bored easily. I am scared she picks up knitting —or worse sewing— next and makes clothes for all of us."

Rhysand throws his cousin a look over his shoulder that speaks volumes. "She has enough work to do…but I assume she gets bored when she is done working, Maybe you should spend more time with her." A gleeful smile graces his handsome face and now Morrigan is the one to flip him off. 

"I live with her, Rhys, I already spend all my time with her." Lifting one hand, the female brushes a strand of blond hair over her shoulder, braces her other hand on her hip and then turns to the other two men. She gives them a once over, thinking, and then turns back to Rhys. "I might know someone who could help you."

But Rhysand doesn't deign her a look anymore, eyes focused on a distant point outside. His gaze wanders beyond the droplets, into the city itself. Not much can be seen from up here, but movement still catches his eye.

"She's wonderful, just finished her degree, aiming to become a big artist. She is not new to the branch and has lot of talent, her pieces are wonderful, almost outstanding, and—"

"I doubt she can create a painting for my office. She's probably a street artist doing portraits of people who pass by. I need a real artist. A good one."

"Like Amren," Azriel throws in and earns himself a round of laughter. Not from Rhys. He isn't laughing, his face stays stern, annoyed. "Very funny," he comments. 

"You are impossible!" Mor huffs dramatically. "She is amazing, Rhys," she insists, "not a street artist, well she might be now, but she will be great and well-known in a few years. She has a certain way with the brush, creating magnificent pieces of—"

"Alright, invite her here and we will see about it." Rhys leans forward, eyes furrowed, transfixed on a female figure rushing through the rain towards a narrow alley. It's a deadlock and someone—

"She can't be worse than Amren, can she?" he mumbles, suddenly very unfocused on the conversation. 

Someone is following the female figure outside. The rain distorts his sight, his office, elevated and the city below shrouded in darkness, adds to the difficulty of seeing the scene properly. And even though, he doesn't know the figure outside a feeling of unease fills his entire being. It's like an unfamiliar sensation he can't shake off, a pit of unease forming in his stomach. 

"You are rude, Rhys," his cousin comments, but he ignores her.

 All his attention is on the rushing female outside. And the men following her. 

She darts into the alley, disappearing momentarily from view. Rhys's mind races, assessing the situation, the potential risks. His heartbeat quickens, and he himself is surprised about this reaction. 

The city outside his window is drenched in rain, no people are around who can help her. 

His gaze moves to the watch on his wrist - 7:07. It is already dark outside, one of the wonders of autumn. 

He hesitates for a moment, torn between staying in the warm confines of his office and the prospect of later climbing into his car, now parked in the carpark of his company, and then safely and soundly driving home, or— 

Something about the situation gnaws at him, urging him to take action, urging him to move. 

He turns from the window, quickly, and with a swift movement, grabs his coat. "One second," he tells his best friends, his cousin, not giving them room to ask for where he is going. 

He dashes out of his office, ditching the elevator that would take too long to arrive, taking the stairs instead, two steps at a time.

Outside, the rain pours down on him, soaking through his clothes within seconds. But he covers his face with his hand, shielding his vision from the rain. Rhys hurdles towards the alleyway, his heart pounding in his chest, rapidly. 

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"You know how he is." Feyre slumps against the door with a loud and terribly annoyed sigh. "He won't ever let go. He is so persistent and he can't accept that I moved on."

"Classic Tamlin, I would say," Ressian chuckles and tosses her damp brush, the one she had just washed out and cleaned of colour, at Feyre. "I never understood why you got with him in the first place. He always seemed a little…strange." Ressina presses her lips in a thin line, watching Feyre closely. 

Feyre shrugs a shoulder, after having casually dodged the brush that came flying at her. "He was nice at the beginning," she says matter-of-factly. 

Ressian fights the urge to roll her eyes because she never liked Tamlin that much. 

Feyre shrugs again. "Whatever, I'll juts turn my phone off until tomorrow morning…maybe he'll get the memo. "Grabbing her bag, Feyre swings it over her shoulder, then shoves her phone into the outer pocket and grabs her pencil case (the one that does not fit into the bag) and a few spare sketch books (that also don't fit into her bag). 

But Ressina stops her, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare turn off your phone until you are home! It's dark outside already. New York City is dangerous, baby."

"Danger means nothing to me," Feyre says with a chuckle, but there is gratitude in her eyes. 

Ressina cares about her, and the young artist knows this. She will keep her phone on, and also close to her so in case of an emergency she can reach for it. But she doubts she will need it. She has walked the way home to her flat many times - also at night. 

A frown appears on her friend's face and she lifts her hand, to show Feyre a vulgar gesture for so bluntly ignoring her worry. 

"I will be safe, Sina. Thank you for caring and worrying about me." Feyre smiles. And reluctantly, Ressian returns the smile. "That's what friends are for, right?" She grabs her own coat of the hanger. "Text me when you get home, so I can sleep in peace."

Feyre bows her head and with her heart warming at the wonderful friend she has found leaves the studio.

The art gallery's doors close behind her with a creak, and the young artist is immediately enveloped in the damp, and cool evening air of New York City. Cars honk everywhere, streetlights draw shadows across the large building and despite the smell of fuel in the air, Feyre draws in a deep inhale. 

The rain leaves a soft sheen of water on the streets and Feyre groans audibly - she is wearing her new Converse after all and they are not made for wet streets. The weather forecast didn't tell her about rain, but then…she hadn't checked it so she couldn't have known.

 It is just bad luck, she concludes. Just like her failed relationship with Tamlin, heir to the Springer company and now her ex-boyfriend. That was also a whole lot of bad luck. 

Feyre, holding her sketchbooks as tightly and closely as possible, hoping to shield them from the drizzle, takes one small step after the other, her feet still somehow walking fast. 

Her hair is dampened by the rain, and she clutches the sketchbooks even tighter when a car drives past her. She hurries through the dimly lit alleys, her shoes sounding against the wet pavement. 

She just wants to get home. As quick as possible. And…only to go out again. 

She has to go out again later. She needs to get groceries. For her ill father. And probably also Elain, her older sister, who looks after their father. With Nesta at the dance academy four hours away, the two of them are left with dealing with their ill father. Feyre is incredibly happy that Elain does all the taking care of him, and she only has to go shopping for their food, but right now she just wants to fall into bed and zone out for the day. The day has been stressful enough. 

"No way," Feyre huffs under her breath when she feels how the rain intensifies, tiny droplets falling onto her head and running down her face. She pulls her coat tighter, over her sketchbooks, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air. 

The sounds of shuffling from other pedestrians heading to their homes or wherever they are going, is only interrupted by her ragged breaths and the occasional honk of a car. Soon, Feyre thinks. Soon I am in my home. And soon I will leave it again…What a mess.

She doesn't allow herself to think further about it. To think about leaving her cosy home again. 

The rain-slicked streets of New York reflect the glow of the city and under different circumstances Feyre would marvel at them, try to remember them so she could paint them later. Not today. Not when the sky is emptying itself on top of her. She hurries along, her steps quickening with every passing block. Her arms strain under the weight of all her stuff, hoping not too much water will get on it. But since the raindrops already soak through her coat, her hope that her sketches will be safe is slowly fading. 

Out of the blue, Feyre catches movement in the corner of her eye. It is different to the other people passing by (the few who also have no other choice than walking in the rain) or the cars driving by. 

A prickling sensation skitters down her spine, her instincts suddenly on high alert. Something is amiss. 

Brave as she is, Feyre casts a glance over her shoulder, squinting through the watery veil that restricts her vision. Her breath catches in her throat - amidst the raindrops she makes out three shadowy figures. They are too close and don't look like they mean well. 

Her heart beats faster, the rush of blood pounding in her ears louder than the drumming rain. But her vision doesn't fool her. She can see what is behind her: three men. And they are coming her way.

Panic surges within her, and she forces herself to move faster, the urgency to escape propelling her over the sidewalk, away from the danger. She quickens her pace, the echoes of her steps ricocheting off the walls of the looming buildings. 

But the men stay behind her, close to her. They’re gaining on her. She doesn't even allow herself to think about what they could possibly want from her. 

Everything about this situation is unnerving. These men following her. And running in the rain - she has to be careful, she can't be too fast, it could be dangerous. She doesn't see quite well with the sheet of rain covering her vision. She might collide with something which would not be beneficial for her escape either. 

And then. "Fuck!" Feyre shudders. The alleyway ahead is a dead end. 

She halts, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with terror as the footsteps behind her draw nearer. Her thoughts race, heart beating in her throat. She clutches her things tightly, fighting the urge to scream. It would be useless anyway. No one would hear her. And even if someone did, she doubts anyone would help. That's how people are, she has come to learn. 

Three figures emerge from the mist, bodies and faces drenched in rain. 

"Stay away from me!" Feyre snaps, her voice not half as steady and strong as she hoped it would be. 

They ignore her. “If you have any money on you, hand it over,” one of them demands. 

She trembles, her breath hitching. She would give them all her money only for them to leave her alone. With trembling hands, she moves her stuff under her arm, trying to open her bag and fish for her purse. 

The rain continues to fall, getting stronger by the minute, drowning out all the other noises. She occasionally lifts her gaze, making sure they don't move closer. 

"Faster!" one man shouts. "Or should we make you?" He looks almost nervous. 

Feyre's heart is racing. She can't find her purse. She simply can't find. Did she forget it in the studio? It wouldn't be the first time. They ordered food and— 

Panic gnaws on her, terror making the contents of her stomach sour. She has no idea what these men are capable of. How much they need the money. To what lengths they would go to get it. The damn purse must be somewhere, Feyre thinks, but it—

"There you are. I've been looking for you." The sudden, deep, sensual male voice startles her. She whips her head up, blinking her eyes rapidly against the rain wetting her face. 

A tall man, drenched in rain, steps out of the shadows of the entry to the alley, having surprised not only Feyre but also the three men. "I hope these men are not causing you any trouble, my darling?"

He casually moves past the men, the downpour of rain drenching him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He slips a casual arm around her shoulders and even through the rain Feyre can see how the three men pale. 

"I was waiting for you at the car." He turns his attention to the men then. "Thank you for finding her for me," her saviour says to them, smooth and polished. "I mean, that is what you have been doing right?" His voice is so terribly calm. "You may leave now, unless there's anything you want to say."

There is enough of a bite in his last words that the men stiffen. 

Silent threats, Feyre thinks, the worst kind of threats. But the men are foolish, don't leave straight away and suddenly the anger is not so silent anymore.

"Get out of here! Now. And if one of you ever dares to follow and scare my wife ever again, I will personally send you to hell."

Without further comment, they scuttle back into the rain, outside the alley. 

Feyre, her heart pounding against her ribcage, steps out of the shelter of her saviour's arm and turns to thank him, but she stops dead in her tracks. 

Standing before her the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. "Are you alright?" he asks, voice much softer now. Gentler. 

He brushes his broad hand over his head, smoothing his wet strands of hair out of his face. 

Feyre is too stunned to speak. Too shocked about the situation. Too careful to yet fully trust the man. Her saviour.

"I—I." Feyre struggles to find her voice. Normally men don’t evoke this sort of reaction in her, but his presence, what he has done for her, and his scent of sea salt and citrus that even reaches her through the rain, render her speechless.

"I—"

She is about to open her mouth to thank him when he beats her to it. "You're welcome," he says. "For saving you."

Saviour or not, she bristles at his arrogance and retreats another step. Tendrils of breath are visible in front of her face when she clears her throat. "I was about to thank you."

The man inclines his head, a small smile on his in raindrops-covered face. "Allow me to give you a ride home."

"Thank you but no." Feyre grabs her things tighter and makes to move past him. She wants to go home now. She only wants to fall into her bed. This days has been too much. He saved her, and she is grateful, but their ways are parting here. 

"Please, allow me to take you home. Just a ride, I don’t expect anything—"

"Oh, I will hope so. I should have known that you are just like every men. Pretty face, old money clothes, and—whatever." If she had a free hand she would wave him off. Her words don't even make sense, but probably he just like any other man. Now offering to take her home and when they arrive at her place he expects her to take him upstairs and thank him for saving her.

She shoves past him. "Thank you, really, but I am a big girl, I can take care of myself. Good night, stranger."

It’s not in her nature to be mean, but the day has drained her. She is not in the mood to talk to him any longer. Yes, he saved her and with his violet eyes and the dark hair, he is very easy on the eyes. But Feyre is not in the mood. To talk. To have him drive her home. To spend time with a man. She is tired of men. Especially after her last relationship. 

She wants to sleep and that is it. And that is the only thing she wants to do this evening. No talking. No thinking. No being in a stranger's car. She only wants to be in her bed, warm and cosy. 

She doesn’t even give the stranger a chance to ask her again, the last please muffled due to the heavy rain, the next one not audible any more because she is already out of ear-shot, heart still racing inside her chest. 

tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop@honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone

[its-avalon-08]

lando norrix x reader part4

part 4 guys <;3 themes- enemies to lovers flirty interactions female Formula1 driver

Chapter 4 - Laughter and Shadows

The post-race interviews buzzed with the usual whirlwind of questions and soundbites. Max, ever the stoic champion, dispensed his answers with practiced ease. Y/N, however, was a different story. Her playful banter with the reporters had the room in stitches, her genuine humor and quick wit disarming even the most jaded journalists.

"And Y/N," a reporter chimed, "that overtake on Leclerc for P2, absolutely textbook! Were you nervous at all?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, you know, just the usual pre-overtake existential crisis – should I go inside, outside, fake a pit stop? But then I remembered Charles probably wouldn't appreciate the pit maneuver in Monaco traffic, so inside it was!"

The room erupted in laughter, even Red Bull's resident stoic, Sergio Perez, cracking a smile. Y/N, unable to contain herself, burst into a fit of giggles, grabbing Checo's shoulder for balance. The gesture was casual, friendly, but to Lando, watching from the corner of the media pen, it felt like a branding iron searing his insides.

His jaw clenched, his fists bunched up under the interview table. The playful camaraderie between Y/N and Checo, the ease with which she touched him – it ignited a jealous rage within him that he couldn't explain. He knew Y/N and Checo were just teammates, colleagues, but the sight of them together twisted his gut with an emotion he couldn't name.

Max, meanwhile, watched the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. He'd noticed Lando's simmering jealousy before, but this… this was a different kind of anger, darker, more possessive. It sent a shiver down his spine, a disquieting premonition of the chaos that might ensue.

"Next question, please?" Y/N's voice cut through the silence, her smile back in place, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in Lando's heart.

The interviews resumed, a seemingly innocuous exchange of soundbites and predictions. But beneath the surface, a tension crackled, a silent battle being waged in the shadows of the paddock. Lando's eyes burned with a dark fire, his focus shifting from the interviewer to Y/N and Checo, his smile becoming a strained mask.

Max, sensing the growing animosity, exchanged a wary glance with Y/N. They both knew the season was far from over, and the battle on the track was only a part of the story. The real challenge, the true test, would be navigating the treacherous landscape of jealousy, ambition, and the simmering darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the media scrum dispersed, Max found Y/N alone, a thoughtful frown etched on her face. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile fading. "I don't know, Maxy," she admitted. "There's something about Lando… it's different this time. I feel like he's changed. And holy fuck, its a little hot, but I/m just confused, what did i do?"

Max nodded, a sudden understanding in his eyes. "He's jealous, Y/N," he said bluntly. "Jealous of Checo stealing your laughs, maybe even something more."

Y/N shivered, a cold unease settling in her stomach. "More?" she echoed.

Max didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. The laughter and lightheartedness of the interviews felt miles away, replaced by a chilling premonition of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. The battle for victory had just begun, and in this game, the stakes were higher than ever.

[nylpad]

BEAUTY IS FOUND WITHIN

Warnings: none except for Felix being overly cute and thoughtful then yeah

Author: it may not always seem like it but remember that you're beautiful no matter what.

In a world painted in hues of judgment and beauty standards, there was you, caught in the relentless pursuit of perfection. The mirror became both a sanctuary and a battlefield, reflecting a version of yourself that seemed never quite enough. It was in this whirlwind of self-imposed starvation for beauty that Felix found you, a beacon of genuine concern in the chaos of your thoughts.

Felix, with his warm smile and kind eyes, had always seen the beauty that lay beyond the surface. He noticed the little things—the way your laughter could light up a room, how your eyes sparkled with passion when you spoke about the things you loved. To him, you were perfect, but he could see the struggle that you tried so hard to hide.

It was a quiet evening when he finally addressed the elephant in the room. You were both sitting on the couch, a movie playing in the background, forgotten. "Love, why do you do this to yourself?" he asked gently, his voice a soft caress against the turmoil in your mind.

You looked away, the shame a bitter pill to swallow. "I just... I want to be beautiful," you whispered, the words barely a breath.

Felix's hand found yours, his thumb tracing circles on your skin—a silent promise of support. "You are beautiful," he said firmly, "You don't need to change a thing."

"But the world expects—" you started, only to be interrupted by his finger pressing softly against your lips.

"The world is blind then," Felix's voice was resolute, his eyes holding yours in a gaze that spoke volumes. "They don't see the incredible person I see every day. The one I fell in love with."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of relief and love washing over you. Felix pulled you into his embrace, a safe haven from all your fears. "You're not just beautiful, you're you, and that's more than enough."

In that moment, with Felix's arms around you, the world's expectations faded into insignificance. You were loved, cherished for who you were, and that was the truest form of beauty.