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pucksandpower · 1 day ago

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Second Heart

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Lewis Hamilton x Senna!Reader

Summary: all you’ve ever wanted was to be able to race just like your Papai … no matter the cost (or in which always going for a gap that exists runs in the Senna family)

You sit cross-legged in front of the TV, shoulders hunched, the remote clutched tight in your little hand. The screen crackles, and there he is — Ayrton. Papai. His yellow helmet blazes under the bright afternoon sun, the car flying down the straight, smooth as a bird on water.

Your eyes don’t blink. The sound of engines growls through the speakers, vibrating all the way to your heart. It’s like he’s right there. Alive.

And so fast. So, so fast. You almost feel like you’re in the car with him, that if you close your eyes, you could taste the gasoline and the rubber, the wind whipping across your face.

“Papai …” you whisper, pressing the volume button louder.

Adriane steps into the room, the clink of her bracelets soft but steady. She pauses when she sees you, arms crossed, one hip jutted out.

“I thought you were doing homework.”

You don’t answer, too lost in the footage. The video cuts to a slow-motion shot of Ayrton weaving through the rain, tires spinning in the spray like magic. They call it genius — what he did at Monaco, at Suzuka, at Donington Park. To you, it’s just your Papai being Papai.

“Turn it off.” Your mother’s voice sharpens now. She hates it when you watch these tapes. You’ve heard her say it before, more times than you can count — It’s not healthy. You shouldn’t keep living in the past. But you don’t feel like you’re living in the past. You feel like you’re meeting him for the first time, every time.

“Just five more minutes,” you plead without looking away.

“No.”

“But I-”

“I said no, agora!”

Her tone makes you flinch. The remote slips from your hand onto the floor with a dull thud. But you still can’t tear your eyes from the screen, where Ayrton’s car crosses the finish line, the Brazilian flag draped over his shoulders as the crowd roars. Your heart beats faster. There’s a strange energy in you, like the buzz before a storm. You push yourself up to your knees, your voice small but determined.

“I want to race.”

Adriane’s laugh is immediate and sharp, like glass shattering. “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not being silly!” You twist around to look at her now, the words spilling out. “I wanna race, Mãe! Like Papai!”

Her face changes. The air shifts, heavy and strange. You see it happen — the tightness in her jaw, the way her smile falls away like it was never there.

“No.”

“But-”

“No!” She snaps, louder this time, and it makes you shrink back. “Absolutely not. Never.”

You bite your lip, feeling the burn at the back of your throat. But you don’t stop. Not yet.

“Why not?” You whisper.

Your mother exhales sharply through her nose, as if the question alone is an insult. She crosses the room in two quick strides, crouching down until her face is level with yours. Her hands, delicate but strong, grip your shoulders tighter than usual.

“Because racing is dangerous,” she says, enunciating every word like she’s trying to hammer them into your skull. “Do you understand me? It’s not a game. It took your father from us.”

Her voice wavers on the last sentence, but you don’t care. There’s something stubborn growing in you, something you don’t quite recognize yet.

“Papai loved it.”

“And look where it got him,” she shoots back, her voice sharp as a knife.

You blink, stunned by the words. She’s never said it like that before. She sees your expression — hurt, confused — and her face softens, just for a second.

“Sweetheart …” She sighs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “I know you miss him. I miss him too. Every single day. But I won’t let racing take you away from me.”

“But it won’t-”

“Enough.” Her voice is final, the way grown-ups’ voices get when there’s no more room for argument. “This conversation is over.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. She’s already standing up, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. The TV hums in the background, the commentators babbling about pole positions and podiums.

Adriane snatches the remote from the floor and jabs the power button. The screen goes black, as if Papai never existed at all.

You feel hollow.

Your mother stands there for a moment, the silence thick between you. Then she crouches again, her hands cupping your face this time, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“Listen to me.” Her voice is quieter now, almost pleading. “I lost your father. I can’t-” She stops, swallows hard. “I can’t lose you too. Okay?”

You don’t nod. You don’t speak. You just stare at her, your little heart breaking in ways you don’t fully understand yet.

“I’m serious,” she whispers, her forehead resting against yours. “No racing. Not ever.”

And then she kisses the top of your head, soft and lingering, as if that alone could erase the conversation, the dream, everything. She walks out of the room, her footsteps fading down the hall.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the blank TV screen, fists clenched in your lap. Your chest feels tight, like something inside you is being squeezed too hard.

You think about Papai. About how he smiled in the cockpit, how the car seemed to dance under his hands, how the crowd chanted his name like a song. He wasn’t afraid.

And neither are you.

You pick up the remote again. Your thumb hovers over the play button, hesitant for just a moment. Then you press it.

The screen flickers back to life, and Ayrton is there, flying through the rain like a miracle.

You smile.

One day, you think.

One day, you’ll race too.

***

The front door clicks shut behind you as you step into the house, dropping your school bag with a heavy thud. You bend down to untie your sneakers, already rehearsing what you’ll tell your mom — how your science project earned a gold star, how you managed to trade a snack with João without getting caught. You have it all planned, down to the way you’ll grin when she offers you that after-school snack.

But as soon as you straighten up, the voices hit you.

Loud. Sharp. Angry.

You freeze, one hand still on your shoelace.

“You have no right — none — to tell me how to raise my daughter!” Your mother’s voice is sharp, like glass breaking. She’s in the living room. You can’t see her from the hallway, but you don’t need to. You can imagine her perfectly — the tight set of her mouth, the way her arms probably cross over her chest.

And then, another voice, familiar in a strange way. Low and hard. “I’m not telling you how to raise her, Adriane. I’m telling you what she told me — how she called me crying because you refuse to let her chase the only thing she’s ever wanted.”

Alain.

Your heart skips. You know him. Everyone knows him. Papai’s fiercest rival — and, in the end, his friend. The man from the stories, from old photographs your mother keeps locked away. Alain, who came to the funeral and cried even when the cameras weren’t on him.

Why is he here?

You step closer, drawn by their words like a thread pulling you tight. You press yourself against the wall and peek around the corner, just enough to see them.

Adriane stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed exactly like you pictured. Her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, but her face is tight, her jaw locked in anger. Alain stands across from her, looking just as frustrated. His hands move as he talks, fast and insistent, like he’s trying to grab hold of the air between them and shape it into something that makes sense.

“She’s seven!” Your mother snaps, her voice cracking at the edges. “She doesn’t understand what she’s asking for.”

“She understands better than you think,” Alain fires back. “She understands perfectly. She called me in tears — tears, Adriane — because you shut her down without even listening.”

“I listened.” Her voice drops, low and furious. “And I said no.”

Alain scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “You said no because you’re scared.”

Your mother’s eyes flash. “Of course I’m scared! She’s my daughter! You, of all people, should understand-”

“I do understand.” Alain’s voice softens, but only just. “I carried his casket. I watched you cry over him. But that’s exactly why you can’t do this to her.”

Adriane’s face crumples for a split second, so brief you might have missed it if you hadn’t been watching so closely. “He’s not here, Alain,” she whispers, and it sounds like a confession and an accusation all at once. “He’s not here to see this, to say if it’s right or wrong. And he’s not here to save her if something goes wrong.”

Alain’s voice drops, steady and determined. “And you think Ayrton would want you to stop her? You think he would want her to live her whole life wrapped in fear because of what happened to him?”

“She’s my child.” Adriane’s voice cracks like a whip, but there’s something desperate underneath it now, like she’s fighting to keep her footing in a conversation she knows she’s already losing. “And I will not lose her.”

Alain’s eyes narrow. “You’re not protecting her. You’re imprisoning her.”

Your mother stares at him, her breath coming fast and uneven. For a moment, everything goes still — so quiet you can hear the ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

Then Alain steps forward, his hands on his hips. “If you won’t help her, I will. I’ll teach her to kart myself if I have to.”

Adriane barks out a bitter laugh, but it’s laced with pain. “You can try,” she says, her voice brittle. “But don’t expect me to come watch. I refuse to set foot at a race, and I won’t look at her as long as I know there’s a chance she won’t come back.”

Her words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe. You press yourself harder against the wall, your chest tight with emotions you can’t name.

And that’s when the floor creaks.

Both of them turn at the sound.

“Meu Deus …” your mother whispers, her hands flying to her mouth. “You’re home.”

Alain’s face softens instantly. He kneels down, arms open. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then, without thinking, you bolt from your hiding spot and run straight into Alain’s arms. He catches you easily, wrapping you in a hug that feels like safety. Like warmth.

Adriane stands frozen, her hands still over her mouth. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mix of heartbreak and anger and something you don’t fully understand.

Alain pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says softly. “I’ve got a question for you.”

You blink up at him, your heart pounding.

“How would you like to come to Switzerland with me?” His voice is calm, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “You could learn to kart there. I’ll teach you myself. What do you think?”

Your heart races. Switzerland. Karting. Learning to drive. It feels like a dream, one you didn’t even know you could have.

But then you look at your mother.

Adriane’s face is pale, her hands still clutched tight over her mouth like they might stop her from saying something she’ll regret. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and there’s a kind of pain in them that makes your chest ache.

You know what this means to her. You know how much it hurts.

But you also know what it means to you.

You’ve wanted this for as long as you can remember — for as long as you’ve been able to understand what racing is. And here it is, right in front of you. A chance.

You swallow hard and look back at Alain. His expression is kind but serious, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“It’s your choice,” he says quietly. “No one can make it for you.”

You take a deep breath. Your hands shake a little, but you ball them into fists to steady yourself.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

Your mother makes a soft, choked sound — like someone punched all the air out of her.

“Minha filha …” Her voice breaks.

You look at her, and it feels like your heart is splitting in two. “I have to, Mãe.”

She closes her eyes, pressing her hands tighter to her face. For a moment, she just stands there, trembling. Then she drops her hands and wipes her eyes with quick, angry swipes.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice raw and broken. “Okay. Go, then.”

The words sting, sharper than anything you’ve ever felt. But you nod. You have to.

Alain gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “We’ll call every day,” he promises, glancing at Adriane, though she won’t look at him. “Whenever you want.”

Your mother doesn’t answer. She just turns away, her shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on her.

Your heart feels heavy, but there’s something else now too — something lighter. Hope.

You glance up at Alain, and he smiles, soft and warm.

“Switzerland, huh?” You say, trying to sound brave.

Alain chuckles. “Switzerland.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you can finally breathe.

***

Life in Switzerland feels like a dream. Every morning, the mountains rise outside your window, peaks dusted in snow even as the spring sun warms the air. The international school Alain enrolled you in is small, the kids friendly. They speak a mix of languages — French, German, Italian — and though it’s strange at first, you like how every word feels like a little puzzle to solve.

But school is just the beginning of your day. The real magic happens afterward.

Every afternoon, Alain picks you up in his car — a sleek, silver Audi with leather seats that always smell faintly like coffee — and takes you straight to the karting track just outside town. There’s a rhythm to your days now: school, then the track, where the scent of gasoline and hot rubber fills the air.

“Come on, petite championne,” Alain says every day as you hop into the kart, the nickname slipping off his tongue with an easy smile. “Let’s see if you can make me proud today.”

The kart rumbles beneath you, a buzz that shoots from your hands to your heart. The moment your foot touches the pedal, the world falls away. The wind rushes against your face, the engine purring with every twist of the wheel.

Here, in the kart, you feel free — like nothing can catch you, not even the pieces of your life that feel too big or too broken to understand.

Alain watches from the sidelines, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his face calm but focused. He takes notes every time you race, shouting tips when you pull up to the pit lane.

“Don’t wait so long to hit the brakes before that hairpin, you lose too much time,” he’ll say. Or, “You’re getting faster through the straights. Don’t get greedy on the corners, though — you’ve got to feel the grip.”

You listen to every word, hungry to learn. And when he grins after you complete a lap, clapping his hands like you just won a Grand Prix, your heart swells.

By the time you drive home, your body hums with exhaustion, but it’s the good kind — the kind that comes from chasing a dream.

And every night, after dinner, there’s dessert.

“Glace au chocolat tonight?” Alain asks one evening, pulling two tubs of chocolate ice cream from the freezer.

You grin. “With whipped cream?”

“Obviously,” Alain replies with mock seriousness. “What kind of barbarian do you take me for?”

He adds a mountain of whipped cream to both bowls, handing one to you before plopping down on the couch with his own.

As always, an old race plays on the TV. Tonight, it’s Monaco — 1988, the race your father dominated, right up until the moment he crashed into the barrier. The screen flickers as the cars glide through the tight streets, their engines howling between the stone walls.

Alain leans back against the couch cushions, spoon in hand. “See that?” He says, pointing at the screen with a mouthful of ice cream. “Your papa’s line through the Swimming Pool section — perfection. Like poetry in motion.”

You tilt your head, studying the way the yellow helmet zips through the narrow chicane. “How did he do it?”

Alain smiles, scooping another spoonful of ice cream. “He just knew. Ayrton could feel the track better than anyone else. It was like … like he was connected to the car in a way no one else could be.”

You lick your spoon thoughtfully. “Did you hate him?”

The question catches Alain off guard. He freezes, then chuckles, shaking his head. “Hate him? No.” He pauses. “Not really, anyway.”

“But you fought a lot.”

“Oh, we fought.” Alain smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye. “He drove me absolutely mad sometimes.”

You giggle. “Why?”

“Because he never gave up. Not even for a second.” Alain gestures toward the TV, where your father’s car rockets through the tunnel. “Ayrton wasn’t just racing other drivers — he was racing himself. Always trying to be faster, better. It was exhausting.”

He says it like a joke, but there’s warmth in his voice, too. You can hear it.

“And that drove you crazy?” You ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

Alain laughs, a soft, fond sound. “Completely crazy.”

You curl deeper into the couch, your ice cream bowl balanced on your lap. “But you were friends, right? In the end?”

Alain’s smile fades a little, but it stays, softer now. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “In the end.”

There’s a silence between you, filled only by the hum of the TV and the occasional scrape of your spoons against the bowls.

You glance at Alain, his expression lost somewhere between memory and regret. “Do you miss him?”

Alain looks at you, and for a moment, you’re not sure if he’ll answer. Then he gives a small nod. “Every day.”

You nod, too, even though you didn’t really know your father — at least, not in the way Alain did. But somehow, you miss him all the same.

The race continues on the screen, the cars weaving through the streets of Monaco, chasing the perfect lap.

“You’ll be just like him one day,” Alain says suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You blink, surprised. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Alain replies, nudging your shoulder with his. “You’ve got the same fire in you. The same stubbornness, too, I think.”

You laugh, and Alain grins, pleased with himself.

“You just need to tweak your braking,” he adds with a playful smirk. “You brake like me, not like him.”

“Hey!” You protest, shoving his arm lightly.

He chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “What? I’m just saying! Ayrton would fly into corners like a madman. Me? I was always a bit more … sensible.”

“Sensible is boring,” you tease, scooping up the last bit of ice cream.

Alain pretends to be offended, clutching his chest like you’ve wounded him. “Boring? Sensible is what win me four world championships, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning.

The credits for the race coverage roll, but neither of you makes a move to turn off the TV. These moments — curled up on the couch with Alain, the scent of whipped cream still in the air — feel like they could stretch forever.

And maybe, just maybe, they do.

***

Four years blur by like the laps on a familiar circuit. Days turn into months, and months into seasons. You grow taller, sharper, and faster. The kart becomes a second skin, every turn and apex something you know instinctively, like breathing. The track is your playground now — your sanctuary.

Alain teaches you everything: not just how to drive but how to think, how to be patient when you need to be and ruthless when the moment calls for it. He tells you about strategy and racecraft, how to listen for the slightest change in the engine’s pitch, how to make yourself invisible in the slipstream until the perfect moment to strike.

Some lessons come easy. Others, not so much. Like when he makes you practice for hours in the rain, your hands frozen, your kart slipping through puddles. Or when you spin out during a practice race and Alain doesn’t even flinch. He just waves his hand in the air.

“Again!” He shouts from the pit lane. “You have to get comfortable with making mistakes, petite. No champion gets there without a few bruises.”

And so you go again. And again. Because this — this dream — is the one thing you want more than anything.

Now, after all those years, the day has finally arrived. You’re old enough to compete in the FIA Karting Championship. This is what you’ve been working toward.

But Alain surprises you one quiet evening at home. No ice cream, no old races on TV — just you and him, sitting across the kitchen table with two mugs of hot tea. His face is serious, but kind.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he says, tapping his fingers lightly against the mug. “You have a choice to make.”

You lean forward. “What kind of choice?”

Alain tilts his head, his sharp hazel eyes studying you carefully. “Your name.”

You frown. “My name?”

“Yes. You’ve been racing locally for a while, but things are different now.” Alain takes a sip of tea, gathering his thoughts. “The FIA Karting Championship is international. There will be journalists, scouts, team representatives. If you race under your real name, everyone will know exactly who you are.”

You sit back, the weight of what he’s saying slowly sinking in.

“You can use a pseudonym if you want,” Alain continues. “Plenty of drivers do it, especially when they want to build their career on their own terms.”

You blink, caught off guard. You’ve thought a lot about racing — how fast you want to be, how badly you want to win. But this? The idea of hiding your name? It’s a curveball you didn’t see coming.

Alain gives you time to think, his hands wrapped loosely around his mug. “There’s no shame in it, petite,” he says gently. “It’s not about denying who you are. It’s about deciding how you want the world to see you.”

The words hang between you. He’s not pressuring you — Alain never does that — but you can feel the weight of the decision anyway.

You toy with the edge of the mug in front of you, tracing the rim with your fingertip. “Do you think … if I use my real name, people will only see Papai?”

Alain shrugs, but his expression is thoughtful. “Some will. There are people who won’t be able to separate you from Ayrton. They’ll compare you to him before you’ve even taken a proper lap.”

You nod slowly. You’ve known this would happen — how could you not? But hearing it out loud makes it more real.

“At the same time,” Alain adds, “it’s not something to be ashamed of. Ayrton was … well, he was Ayrton. If anyone has the right to be proud of their name, it’s you.”

You bite your lip, the edges of uncertainty fraying inside you. “What would you do?”

Alain smiles softly. “It’s not my decision to make, ma chérie. This is about you. Your future.”

You stare into your tea, watching the steam curl toward the ceiling like tiny ghosts. A part of you aches at the thought of hiding your father’s name — like you’d be denying him, pretending he didn’t matter. But there’s another part, quieter but insistent, that wants to know what it’s like to stand on your own. To earn your place without the shadow of a legend following you everywhere you go.

You tap your fingers against the table, the rhythm matching the beat of an engine in your mind. And then, suddenly, the answer clicks into place.

“I think …” You take a deep breath. “I think I want to use a different name. Just for now.”

Alain raises his eyebrows, curious but approving. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, more certain now. “It’s not because I’m ashamed. I’m not. I want people to know one day. Just … not yet.”

Alain leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s the plan?”

You grin, the excitement building in your chest. “I’ll race under my mother’s last name. And when the time’s right — maybe after I win a few championships — I’ll tell them.”

Alain chuckles, shaking his head. “You think they’ll like the surprise?”

You laugh, a full, bright sound that feels like relief. “Can you imagine their faces?”

Alain grins, clearly amused. “I can already hear the headlines.” He adopts an exaggerated announcer voice: “The karting prodigy who stunned the world by revealing she’s Ayrton Senna’s daughter!”

You burst out laughing, the tension from the conversation melting away. “They’ll lose their minds!”

“And you’ll love every second of it,” Alain adds with a knowing smirk.

You grin, unable to hide the spark of mischief in your eyes. “Maybe a little.”

He shakes his head fondly, ruffling your hair as he stands up from the table. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Comes with the territory,” you say, beaming.

Alain gathers the empty mugs and places them in the sink, still chuckling to himself. “Well, I think it’s a smart choice. Gives you time to find your own rhythm.”

You nod, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Yeah. It feels right.”

Alain leans against the counter, crossing his arms as he looks at you. There’s pride in his eyes — quiet, steady, and unmistakable. “Your papa would’ve been proud of you, too,” he says softly.

Your throat tightens, but you smile through it. “Thanks, Alain.”

He nods once, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on,” he says, nudging his head toward the living room. “Let’s celebrate with some dessert. I think we’ve got tarte au citron in the fridge.”

You follow him, your heart light and your steps easy. The road ahead is still long — there will be races, wins, and losses. But for the first time, it feels like it’s yours to drive.

And that? That’s the best feeling in the world.

***

The drive from Switzerland to Imola is quiet. You sit with your thoughts, the hum of the engine beneath you and the road stretching endlessly ahead. Alain offered to come with you, but you declined. This is something you need to do alone.

It’s not that you didn’t want his company, it’s just … how do you explain to someone — even someone who knew your father so well — that you need to meet this place on your own terms?

For eighteen years, you told yourself you weren’t ready. Maybe you never would be. But here you are, taking deep breaths as you steer your way closer to the circuit where it all ended. Where everything about your life changed before it even really began.

When you finally arrive, the gates to the Imola track feel strangely peaceful, nestled under a canopy of autumn leaves. The air is crisp, and the sky is that soft, pale blue you only get in early fall. You park the car and head toward the Ayrton Senna memorial, your footsteps crunching through the leaves littering the path.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your pulse loud in your ears. You try to steel yourself — this is just a monument, just a place. You’ve been to a thousand race tracks in your life. But this one is different. This one holds pieces of someone you never got the chance to know.

As you approach the monument, you expect silence. You expect to be alone. But then you notice someone sitting there — another figure crouched near the bronze statue of your father.

The man shifts, startled by the sound of your footsteps on the gravel. His head turns, and you recognize him almost immediately.

It’s Lewis Hamilton.

He blinks up at you, clearly not expecting company either. There’s a moment of awkwardness, both of you standing there, caught off guard in a place meant for solitude.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry,” you say softly. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Lewis waves off the apology, his face softening. “No, no. You’re not bothering me.” He pulls himself up a little straighter, brushing leaves from his jacket. “I always stop by here before Monza. Helps me … I don’t know. Reset.”

You nod, unsure what else to say. There’s something strange about seeing him here — Lewis Hamilton, one of the biggest names in motorsport, sitting quietly in front of your father’s monument like he’s just another fan.

“I came for the same reason,” you admit. “I’m Brazilian. Wanted to pay my respects.”

At that, something shifts in Lewis’ expression — understanding, maybe. “You’re Brazilian?” He repeats, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That explains it. Every Brazilian racer I know carries Senna with them like … well, like a second heart.”

You laugh softly, kicking a stray leaf with your shoe. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Lewis shifts, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks back at the monument. The wind stirs the leaves around your feet, scattering them across the ground.

“He’s always been my hero,” Lewis murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “Even before I really understood what racing was, I just … knew he was special.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze fixed on the familiar features of the bronze effigy — your father’s intense, focused expression captured in metal. It’s strange, standing here with someone who feels the same reverence you’ve always felt but never quite known how to express.

Lewis glances at you again. “What do you race?” He asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

You tuck your hands into your jacket pockets. “Formula Renault 3.5.”

His eyebrows lift, clearly impressed. “That’s a serious series.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool, though there’s a flicker of pride in your chest. “Yeah, it’s been good so far.”

“Good enough to think about Formula 1 one day?” Lewis asks, a knowing smile on his face.

You grin. “That’s the plan.”

He chuckles, the sound warm in the cool air. “Well, I’ll keep an eye out for you. What’s your name?”

For a split second, you hesitate. But you remind yourself — he doesn’t need to know everything. Not yet. “Just … Y/N,” you say casually. “For now.”

Lewis tilts his head, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but he doesn’t press. “Y/N. Got it.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to fill the silence. But it’s not uncomfortable — just … quiet.

“You said you come here every year?” You ask after a moment.

“Before Monza, yeah,” Lewis confirms. “It’s become sort of a ritual. Helps me feel grounded, I guess. Reminds me why I do this.”

You nod, understanding more than you expected to. There’s something about this place — this simple, quiet memorial — that strips everything else away. The politics, the pressure, the noise. It leaves only the pure love of racing behind.

Lewis stands then, brushing dirt from his pants. “Well,” he says, “I should probably get going. Got a long weekend ahead.”

You nod, though part of you wishes you had a little more time to talk to him. There’s something easy about the way he carries himself — no arrogance, no pretense. Just a racer who loves what he does.

Lewis glances at the monument one last time, his gaze lingering on your father’s face. “He would’ve loved to see how many of us still race because of him,” he says quietly.

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small smile. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

He gives you a nod, something warm and reassuring in his expression. “Take care, Y/N. I’ll be watching.”

With that, he turns and walks down the path, his footsteps crunching through the leaves. You watch him go, the wind stirring around you again, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and autumn.

For a long moment, you stay there, standing in front of the monument, just you and the bronze figure of your father. You don’t say anything — there’s nothing that needs to be said. But in the quiet, you feel a strange sense of peace.

Maybe it’s the years of racing, the laps you’ve turned, the lessons you’ve learned. Or maybe it’s just knowing that people like Lewis exist — people who carry your father’s spirit with them, even though they never knew him.

You brush a hand over the cool surface of the monument, tracing the edge of the plaque with your fingers. “I’m gonna make you proud,” you whisper.

And this time, you believe it.

The wind picks up again as you turn away from the monument, heading back toward the car. Monza is waiting. And so is the rest of your story.

***

The paddock feels like a world unto itself — buzzing with life, engines roaring in the distance, team personnel hurrying from garages to pit walls.

You’re barely a day into your first GP2 weekend with DAMS, and it’s already overwhelming. The DAMS crew is friendly but businesslike, and the constant stream of engineers, mechanics, and journalists passing by your garage is a reminder that you’ve officially stepped onto the big stage.

Your heart pounds as you adjust the collar of your race suit, nerves crawling under your skin. You spent the morning doing seat fittings, debriefs, and media duties, but now you’re finally free for a few minutes before the next round of meetings.

Alain walks beside you, calm and collected as ever, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He’s been like a steady lighthouse in the chaos of this new chapter, guiding you through the storm with quiet assurance.

“Remember,” Alain says as you both weave through the paddock, “it’s just another race. Keep your focus. Don’t let the noise get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” you mutter, scanning the sea of faces for anyone familiar — or anyone dangerous, like a journalist with too many questions.

Alain smirks knowingly. “That’s why you have me.”

You can’t help but grin, a flicker of relief easing the tension in your chest. Alain’s been by your side for so long now that the idea of navigating a race weekend without him feels unthinkable.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot someone you weren’t expecting: Lewis.

He’s walking toward the McLaren motorhome, surrounded by team personnel and a PR officer trailing closely behind, clipboard in hand. You see the moment recognition flickers in his eyes — he stops mid-step, gaze locking on you like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“Y/N?” He calls, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Alain glances sideways at you, bemused, but you can’t help the small, slightly guilty smile tugging at your lips. You wave at Lewis, feeling a little awkward but genuinely happy to see him.

Lewis strides over, his PR officer groaning softly but trailing after him anyway. “I thought I’d see you around here eventually,” Lewis says with a grin. “Didn’t think it would be so soon.”

You shrug, playing it casual. “Surprise.”

His eyes flick to Alain, standing quietly beside you. “And you … know Alain Prost?”

Alain raises a polite eyebrow, but there’s an amused glint in his eye, as if waiting to see how you’ll answer this one.

You shift on your feet, aware of Lewis’ confusion. “Yeah, he’s … been my mentor for years.” You keep your explanation vague, not ready to drop the full truth just yet.

Lewis frowns slightly, processing the unexpected connection. “You’ve been working with Alain Prost?”

You nod. “Since I was a kid.”

Lewis lets out a low whistle, looking between the two of you with new appreciation. “Wow. That explains a lot.”

Before you can respond, his PR officer steps in, clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. “Lewis, we really need to-”

Lewis waves her off without breaking eye contact with you. “Five more minutes. It’s fine.”

The woman hesitates, then sighs in frustration and backs away to give him space. Lewis turns his full attention back to you, his easy grin returning.

“So, GP2, huh?” He asks, hands on his hips. “How’s it feel to finally be here?”

“Terrifying,” you admit with a laugh. “But also kind of amazing.”

“That’s how you know you’re in the right place,” Lewis says, his tone encouraging. “The nerves mean you care.”

Alain watches the exchange quietly, and you can tell he’s measuring Lewis, sizing him up — not in a competitive way, but in that protective way he’s always had with you. It’s subtle, but you know Alain well enough to see it.

“I’ll make sure to catch the feature race,” Lewis promises, his grin widening. “I’ll be cheering you on.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to show how much that means to you. “Oh yeah? You sure you have time to slum it with us junior drivers?”

Lewis laughs, genuinely amused. “Come on, now. I started in GP2, remember? I know exactly how tough it is.”

“Guess I’ll have to put on a good show, then.”

“You better,” Lewis says, mock-serious. “Otherwise I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

The two of you share a quick, easy laugh, and for a moment the chaos of the paddock fades into the background. It’s just two drivers, standing in the middle of it all, sharing a moment of understanding.

“You’re going to crush it,” Lewis adds, his voice low and certain.

Something in his tone makes you believe it — makes the nerves that have been simmering all day settle, if only for a moment.

Alain clears his throat softly, a reminder that time is ticking. “We need to get back to the team,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

Lewis nods, taking the hint but not before offering you one last smile. “Good luck, Y/N. I’ll see you out there.”

You return the smile, feeling lighter than you have all day. “Thanks, Lewis.”

He gives Alain a respectful nod before turning to leave, his McLaren team falling into step around him as he disappears into the paddock.

As you watch him go, Alain leans in slightly, his voice quiet but laced with amusement. “Friend of yours?”

You smirk, still watching Lewis disappear into the crowd. “Something like that.”

Alain chuckles, and the sound is warm, familiar — like the engine note of a car you’ve driven a thousand times.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your shoulder gently. “We have work to do.”

You follow Alain back toward the DAMS garage, the nerves still there but tempered now with something else — excitement, anticipation, maybe even a little confidence.

Because this is your moment. Your chance to show the world what you can do. And with people like Alain and Lewis in your corner, you know you’re not facing it alone.

***

The Bahrain sun beats down relentlessly, the heat pressing against your skin even through your race suit. Sweat clings to your brow, mixing with the overwhelming, heady cocktail of fuel, rubber, and victory. You’re breathless, exhausted — but none of that matters.

You did it. You won.

The feature race trophy feels almost weightless in your hands as you stand on the podium, the sound of the Brazilian anthem thundering in your ears. The cameras flash, the crowd cheers, and for the first time since you entered GP2, you allow yourself to savor the moment. You close your eyes for a second, letting the anthem sink deep into your bones, and think of your father.

When the rose water sprays, it feels like you’ve broken through a barrier — proof to yourself and to the world that you belong here. That you’re not just someone chasing the shadow of a name, but a racer in your own right.

The post-race chaos is a blur — interviews, debriefs, more interviews. It’s not until you’re finally allowed to step away from the DAMS garage, damp with sweat and floral liquid, that the realization hits you again: you won your first GP2 race. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but beneath it, there’s a quiet hum of contentment.

You round the corner of the paddock, searching for a quiet moment to collect yourself — when a familiar voice calls your name.

“Y/N!”

You turn, and there he is: Lewis, dressed casually in his McLaren team kit, that signature grin stretched across his face. His eyes are bright under the paddock lights, and his presence feels like a cool breeze against the heat of Bahrain.

Before you can say anything, he’s already jogging up to you, wrapping you in a quick, spontaneous hug. The smell of his cologne lingers in the air between you — spicy and warm, like cedar and citrus.

“That was incredible!” Lewis says, pulling back to look at you. “Seriously, you drove like a pro out there.”

You grin, still catching your breath. “You saw the whole race?”

“Of course I did.” He says it like it’s obvious, as if there was no way he could have missed it. “I told you I’d be cheering you on, didn’t I?”

“Guess I didn’t disappoint, then,” you say, teasing.

“Not even a little.” His grin softens into something warmer, more personal.

The way he looks at you — like he’s genuinely proud — makes your chest tighten, but not in a bad way. It’s strange, but comforting, the way he’s here, grounding you in the whirlwind of it all.

“Come on,” Lewis says, gesturing toward the paddock hospitality area. “You deserve a proper celebration. We’ll grab something to drink, at least — water, preferably, because you look like you’re about to melt.”

You laugh. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m not passing out just yet.”

“Still,” he insists, walking beside you. “Gotta take care of the winner, right?”

You follow him, your steps lighter than they’ve felt all weekend. It’s easy with Lewis — talking, walking, just existing in the same space. You can’t tell if it’s the lingering buzz of the win or something else entirely, but there’s a sense of ease between you that you haven’t felt with anyone in a long time.

He leads you to one of the quieter corners of the paddock, where a small group of McLaren personnel are relaxing. Lewis grabs two water bottles from a nearby cooler and tosses one your way.

“Catch.”

You catch it easily, the cool plastic a relief against your palm. “Thanks.”

Lewis leans against the back of a chair, his posture relaxed, but there’s a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “So … how does it feel?”

“To win?” You twist the cap off your bottle and take a sip. “Like … I don’t know. Like I can finally breathe again.”

He nods, like he knows exactly what you mean. “First win’s always special. But there’ll be more. I can feel it.”

You tilt your head, amused. “You think you’re a psychic now?”

Lewis chuckles. “Nope. Just good at spotting talent.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no denying the warmth his words spark inside you. You glance away for a moment, trying to shake the strange flutter in your chest.

“So,” he says after a beat, “what’s next? A second win in Spain?”

“I mean, that’d be nice,” you say, grinning. “But I’ll settle for finishing with all my wheels intact.”

“Good plan,” Lewis agrees, laughing. “That track’s a nightmare.”

The conversation drifts easily from there, flowing from racing to random paddock gossip to stories from his early days in GP2. You’re both standing close — closer than two people probably need to stand. But it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, it feels … nice.

He pauses for a second, watching you with that thoughtful expression he gets sometimes, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on beneath the surface.

“You’re really something, you know that?” He says softly, almost like it’s just for you to hear.

The words catch you off guard, and you feel your cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze.

“Just doing my best,” you say, trying to play it off, but your voice sounds quieter than you intended.

Lewis’ eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and there’s a flicker of something between you — something unspoken, but not unwelcome.

Before either of you can say anything more, a loud cheer erupts from a nearby group of mechanics, jolting you both back to the present. You laugh, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“Guess the celebration’s already started,” you say, motioning toward the rowdy crowd.

Lewis grins. “Looks like it. You coming?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want to celebrate, but because part of you likes this quiet bubble you and Lewis have found.

“I think I might stay here for a bit,” you say, leaning against the wall and taking another sip of water.

Lewis doesn’t move to leave. Instead, he stays where he is, like maybe he feels the same pull to stay in this moment, too.

“You know,” he says after a beat, his voice low and a little more serious, “I meant what I said earlier. About you being something special.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s no teasing in his expression now — just quiet sincerity.

“Thanks,” you say softly, the word not nearly enough to convey what you’re feeling.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, then gives you a small, crooked smile. “Guess I’ll just have to keep watching and see what you do next.”

“Guess so.”

And just like that, the air shifts between you — charged with possibility, like the moment before a green flag drops.

You don’t know what’s coming next, but for the first time in a long time, you’re not afraid of it. Not when Lewis is standing here, smiling at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

And somehow, you think, this might just be the start of something worth chasing.

***

It’s late in the evening, and the Monaco paddock has fallen into a rare lull. The energy of race day — mechanics scrambling, journalists hounding drivers, engines screaming — has settled into a quiet hum. Most people have retreated to their yachts or hotel rooms by now, leaving only the occasional team member wandering through the maze of garages and hospitality areas.

You sit with Lewis on the edge of the harbor, the two of you tucked away from prying eyes. The water laps gently against the docks, and the principality’s golden lights reflect across the surface like scattered coins. Neither of you say anything for a while, content to let the quiet fill the spaces between you.

It’s been like this more often lately — stolen moments between races, conversations that drift into the small hours of the morning, and the unspoken pull that keeps you near each other, even when there’s no real reason to be.

Lewis shifts beside you, resting his forearms on his knees. “You ever just sit somewhere and wonder how the hell you got here?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You glance at him, the glow of the streetlights catching the sharp angles of his face. “All the time.”

He gives a small laugh, running a hand over his braids. “Monaco’s something else, isn’t it?”

You nod, hugging your knees to your chest. “Feels like the kind of place people dream about … like it’s not even real.”

He looks over at you then, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Not sure what’s real sometimes.”

There’s something heavy in his voice, something unspoken. And for the first time tonight, the quiet between you doesn’t feel as comfortable. It feels loaded, like you’re both waiting for the other to say something neither of you know how to say.

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You okay?”

Lewis exhales slowly, glancing out over the water. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

He hesitates, like he’s not sure how to begin. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately … about the future. About what I want, and where I want to be.”

You shift closer to him, sensing that this isn’t just idle talk. “What do you mean?”

He leans back on his hands, staring at the water like it might hold the answer. “I’ve been with McLaren my whole career. Since I was a kid. But … I don’t know. Lately, it feels like I’m stuck. Like I’ve hit a wall.”

You frown. “What are you saying?”

He looks at you then, and there’s something raw in his expression — something vulnerable. “I’ve decided to leave McLaren at the end of the season. I’m signing with Mercedes.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unexpected. You blink, trying to process what he just said. “Mercedes?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“But … McLaren’s your home.”

Lewis shrugs, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. “It was. But things change. And if I don’t take this chance now … I think I’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

You stare at him, your mind spinning. “Do people know yet?”

He shakes his head. “Not many. Just a few people on the team. I wanted to tell you before it got out, though.”

You chew on your bottom lip, absorbing the weight of his words. “That’s a big decision, Lewis.”

“I know.” He looks at you, his gaze steady. “But it feels like the right one. Even if it’s scary as hell.”

You let out a breath, feeling a strange mix of emotions — pride, worry, something you can’t quite name. “Well … if it’s what you want, I guess it’s the right move.”

He smiles, but it’s a small, almost hesitant thing. “Thanks.”

The silence stretches between you again, but this time it feels different. Like something has shifted — not just because of what he said, but because of the way he’s looking at you now.

“You’ve been there for me a lot lately,” he says softly. “I don’t think I’ve said how much that means to me.”

Your heart beats a little faster. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me.” His voice is low, and there’s something in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

He shifts slightly closer, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look up at him, and the world seems to narrow down to just this — just the two of you, sitting on the edge of the harbor, the night air thick with something electric.

And then, slowly — almost hesitantly — he leans in.

For a split second, you think about pulling away, about the million reasons why this might not be a good idea. But before you can overthink it, his lips brush against yours.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

It’s not the kind of kiss that demands anything — it’s the kind that promises everything.

When you finally pull back, your heart is racing, and your mind feels like it’s spinning in a thousand different directions.

Lewis looks at you, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admits, his breath warm against your skin.

You smile, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief. “Yeah?”

He nods, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the quiet aftermath of the kiss. The world around you feels distant, like it’s just the two of you, floating in your own little bubble.

Finally, Lewis pulls back slightly, though his hand lingers on your face. “So … what now?”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound light and easy. “I have no idea.”

He grins, and it’s the kind of smile that makes your chest feel warm. “Guess we’ll figure it out, then.”

You nod, your heart still racing. “Yeah. I guess we will.”

And somehow, even though nothing feels certain — his future, your career, whatever this thing is between you — there’s a strange sense of peace in the not knowing.

Because whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it together.

***

The air in the McLaren garage is thick with anticipation. Cameras are set up, media personnel are adjusting their equipment, and there’s a palpable buzz in the air as the press conference prepares to start. You stand just behind the curtain, your heart racing. You can hear the hum of voices in the room beyond, reporters murmuring to one another, waiting for the big reveal.

The past few months have felt like a whirlwind — a blur of contract negotiations, meetings with McLaren’s team principal, and the quiet, creeping excitement of finally getting the chance to do what you’ve always dreamed of. But now that the moment is here, the weight of it is settling in. You’re not just about to become the first woman in F1 in decades, you’re about to step into the spotlight as Ayrton Senna’s daughter.

You take a deep breath, glancing down at the McLaren-branded polo shirt you’re wearing, the crisp fabric somehow making everything feel more real. This is happening. After all the years of hard work, all the sacrifices, you’re about to make history.

Alain stands beside you, his face calm, but his hand on your shoulder is firm and reassuring. “You ready?” He asks, his voice low, but steady.

You nod, swallowing down the nerves. “I think so.”

“Just remember why you’re doing this,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. “This is about you. Not your father. Not anyone else. You.”

You offer him a small smile. Alain’s always been good at grounding you, at reminding you that you’ve earned this, regardless of who your father was. He’s been there through it all — your highs and lows, your victories and failures. And now, here he is, standing beside you as you take this monumental step.

The curtains part, and the team principal, Martin Whitmarsh, steps onto the stage. The room quiets as he approaches the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today,” he begins, his voice carrying through the room. “It’s not often we get to announce something of this magnitude. Today, McLaren is proud to welcome a new driver to our team for the 2013 season. Not only will she be the first woman to compete in Formula 1 in over 20 years, but she’s also someone with a legacy that speaks for itself.”

There’s a murmur of curiosity from the crowd, and you know the moment is coming. The reveal. The truth that you’ve kept hidden, even from the people closest to you.

“Please join me in welcoming, Y/N Senna.”

The sound of your name, followed by your father’s, echoes through the room like a ripple of shock. For a brief moment, there’s stunned silence. Then, the cameras start flashing, the murmurs turn into a roar, and all eyes are on you.

You step onto the stage, trying to steady your breath. The weight of the announcement, of who you are, feels heavier than you expected. But you push through, meeting the gaze of the journalists, the photographers, the team members standing off to the side. You can’t see him from here, but you know Alain is watching from the wings, his quiet support steadying you.

Whitmarsh continues speaking, but the words blur together as your mind races. It’s not until you hear the murmured whispers in the back of the room that your attention snaps back.

“Senna?”

“Ayrton’s daughter?”

“Why didn’t anyone know?”

As the press conference wraps up, and you’re led off stage, the questions start flooding in. Journalists swarm, desperate for a quote, for more insight into the mystery that you’ve kept hidden for so long.

But before you can respond to any of them, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“Y/N.”

You freeze, your heart dropping. You know that voice. You turn slowly, and there he is — Lewis, standing just a few feet away, his face unreadable.

The PR team tries to shuffle you away, but you shake them off, making your way over to him. “Lewis …”

He cuts you off, his expression dark. “You’ve been racing for all these years, and you never thought to tell me? Not once?”

The sting of his words catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond, but he continues, his voice low but sharp. “I thought we were close. I thought we were-” He stops, running a hand over his face. “You let me fall for you, and you didn’t even tell me who you really are.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “Lewis, it wasn’t like that-”

“Wasn’t it?” He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours, hurt and confusion written all over his face. “I get it, okay? You didn’t want people to treat you differently because of your name. But me? I thought we were past that.”

“I didn’t want to use my father’s name to get ahead,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I wanted to make a name for myself, first. And I didn’t tell you because … because I didn’t want it to change how you saw me.”

“Well, it’s changed everything now,” he snaps, his voice tight with anger. “I thought I knew you, but clearly, I didn’t.”

You take a step back, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. “Lewis, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t mean to hurt me? You’re Ayrton Senna’s daughter, and you never even mentioned it once. How could you keep something like that from me?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “I didn’t want it to come between us.”

“Well, it has,” he says, his voice quieter now, but still laced with pain. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening. The distance between you feels insurmountable now, like a chasm that you don’t know how to cross.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Lewis looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening slightly, but the hurt still lingers in his eyes. “I need some time,” he says finally, his voice rough. “I just … I need to figure this out.”

You nod, the tears finally spilling over. “Okay.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart heavy and your world spinning.

As you watch him go, you can’t help but wonder if things will ever be the same between you.

***

The air at Imola is still. The late-summer heat clings to your skin, and the only sounds around you are the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You stare at the stone memorial, the bronze relief of your father’s face, the flowers people have left here over the years. Some are wilted, some fresh. There’s even a small Brazilian flag tucked against the base.

You exhale slowly, your hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your jacket. It’s been exactly a year since you first stood here, heart in your throat, hoping to find some kind of connection, some kind of clarity. The weight of the past year presses down on you now — signing with McLaren, the media frenzy, the fallout with Lewis.

And Papai. Always Papai.

You kneel, brushing a hand over the smooth stone, fingers tracing the engraved letters. “I made it,” you whisper. “I’m almost there.” Your voice catches on the words, a lump forming in your throat. “I wish you were here to see it.”

You close your eyes, trying to imagine what he’d say if he were standing beside you. Maybe he’d be proud. Maybe he’d tell you to push harder, go faster, never settle. Or maybe he’d tell you to slow down, to find a way to reconnect with your mother before it’s too late. But he’s not here. That’s the problem, isn’t it?

A soft rustling sound pulls you from your thoughts. Footsteps, deliberate but hesitant, approach from behind, crunching through the dry leaves scattered on the ground. You turn, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s Lewis.

He’s wearing a hoodie, hands tucked into the front pocket, his brows peeking out from beneath a baseball cap. He stops a few feet away, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. There’s something guarded in his expression, but there’s warmth there, too.

You straighten slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. “What are you doing here?”

Lewis shrugs, his gaze flickering to the memorial and back to you. “Monza’s coming up. Thought I’d stop by first … like I always do.”

The tension between you feels like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence stretching out like a canyon.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” you finally say, your voice quieter than you intended.

He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, either.”

You bite your lip, looking away toward the memorial. “I needed to. Before the race. I … I haven’t been here since last year.”

Lewis shifts, the soft scrape of his shoes against the ground. “I remember.”

The air feels heavy between you, thick with all the things you haven’t said to each other. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, but they feel tangled, impossible to untangle without breaking.

Lewis is the first to speak again, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what happened. About everything.”

You swallow hard, your hands clenching into fists in your pockets. “Me too.”

“I was angry,” Lewis admits. “Hurt, too. But … I get it now. Why you didn’t tell me.”

His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him, surprised. “You do?”

He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to prove yourself, like the world’s already decided who you are before you even get a chance to show them. I just … I wish you’d trusted me with it.”

“I wanted to,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “I did. But … it’s complicated.” You look down, kicking at a stray leaf with your shoe. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out how to be his daughter without being defined by it. And now … now it’s all out there.”

Lewis steps closer, closing the gap between you. “You’re not just his daughter, Y/N. You’re you. And that’s who I fell for.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten. You blink quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. They spill over anyway, and you wipe at them angrily with the sleeve of your jacket.

“It’s not just about the name,” you whisper. “Racing … it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But it’s also what took me away from my mom.” You take a shaky breath, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “She can’t even look at me without seeing him. I haven’t had a real conversation with her in years. The last time we talked was my birthday. And it was just a two-minute call.”

Lewis’ face softens, and he reaches out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, sniffing quietly. “It’s not your fault. It’s just … hard, you know? I love racing, but it feels like it’s cost me everything else.”

He takes another step closer, his hand lingering on your cheek. “You’ve got me,” he murmurs.

You look up at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Do I?”

He smiles softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Yeah. You do.”

The world feels like it tilts for a moment, everything narrowing down to just the two of you standing here, beneath the shadow of your father’s memory. And before you can think too hard about it, before the doubts can creep in, you lean in, closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft at first — tentative, like neither of you wants to break the fragile peace that’s settled between you. But then his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens, the weight of everything unsaid dissolving in the warmth of his touch.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other.

“I missed you,” Lewis whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I missed you, too,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away.

Eventually, Lewis pulls back slightly, his hand still cradling the back of your neck. “So … what now?”

You smile, a small, genuine smile that feels like the first one in a long time. “Now … we go win at Monza.”

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Damn right we will.”

You laugh softly, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts.

As you stand there, hand in hand with Lewis, you glance back at the memorial one last time. “I think he’d be happy,” you say quietly.

Lewis squeezes your hand gently. “I know he would.”

And just like that, the knot in your chest loosens. You’re still Ayrton Senna’s daughter. But you’re also yourself. And that? That feels like enough.

***

The crowd roars so loudly that it feels like the earth itself is shaking. São Paulo is electric, the grandstands packed with people draped in green and yellow, waving flags, and chanting. You’ve been in big races before, stood on podiums, and tasted victory. But this … this is different.

This is Interlagos. This is home. And for the first time in your career, you’re leading an F1 race in front of your people.

“Alright, Y/N,” your engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “Five laps to go. Everything looks good on the telemetry. Just bring her home.”

Your heart pounds against your chest as you navigate the tight curves of the circuit. Every bump, every rise, every dip feels familiar. You’ve studied this track since you were a child. This is where your father was a legend — and now, it’s where you can make your own history.

The tires hum beneath you, vibrations pulsing through your hands and feet. The sky is dark with heavy clouds threatening rain, but the track is still dry, for now. Behind you, Sebastian Vettel is chasing hard in second place, his Red Bull a glimmer in your mirrors, but you don’t think about him. Not now. This is about you. About crossing that finish line first.

Four laps. Then three. Every second feels like an eternity. You can hear the crowd over the sound of the engine, their voices rising every time you fly past the grandstands. “SENNA! SENNA!” they chant, over and over, as if your name — your real name — was always meant to be called alongside your father’s.

“Two laps, Y/N. Gap to Vettel is two seconds. Stay focused.”

Your grip tightens on the wheel. You shift gears, your mind and body moving in perfect sync with the machine around you. The wind whistles past your helmet as you race up the hill toward the final turn.

On the final lap, it starts to drizzle — just enough to slick the track and make things dangerous. Your car twitches as the tires search for grip.

“Be careful, Y/N,” your engineer warns. “You’ve got this. Just stay calm.”

You breathe in. Breathe out. And then the chequered flag waves ahead of you, and the world explodes into color and sound.

“P1, Y/N! P1! You’ve won the Brazilian Grand Prix!” Your engineer’s voice is hoarse with excitement. “That was incredible — you just won at home!”

Your heart leaps as tears spring to your eyes. You punch the air, screaming into the radio, not caring who hears. “YES! YES! WE DID IT!”

The car coasts into parc fermé, the engine humming its final notes as you switch it off. You rip off your gloves and helmet, letting the cool air hit your damp face. The grandstands are still shaking with the cheers of thousands. Your name — Senna — is on every banner, every poster, and every fan’s lips.

You climb out of the car, adrenaline still surging through your veins, and jump onto the chassis. The crowd roars even louder as you throw your fists into the air, pointing toward the sky. The thought flashes through your mind: This one’s for you, Papai.

You jump down and make your way to the barriers where your team waits, already celebrating with hugs, fist bumps, and slaps on the back. You push through the throng of mechanics, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. And that’s when you see her.

Among the sea of McLaren team uniforms, standing stiffly with her arms wrapped around herself, is your mother.

Your steps falter for a moment, shock flooding through you. She’s here. She’s really here. You blink, wondering if the tears in your eyes are playing tricks on you, but no — there she is. Adriane.

She’s thinner than you remember, her hair streaked with more silver now. She looks out of place among the mechanics, but she’s here. Her eyes, so much like your own, are filled with something you haven’t seen in years — pride. And something more. Regret.

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or run the other way. Then her face crumples, and she takes a tentative step forward, her arms reaching for you like she used to when you were small.

That’s all it takes. You close the distance in an instant, throwing yourself into her arms.

“Mãe!” The word leaves your mouth in a sob, and before you know it, you’re both crying, clutching each other like you’re afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into your hair, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, minha filha. I was wrong. I should’ve-”

You shake your head against her shoulder, holding her tighter. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

She pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands like she used to when you were little. “I didn’t think I could do it,” she admits, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was so afraid I’d lose you too. But then … then I watched you out there today.” Her voice cracks, and she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “And I saw him. I saw Ayrton. But more than that, I saw you. My daughter.”

You can’t speak — your throat feels too tight, and the tears won’t stop. So you just nod, leaning into her touch as the noise of the paddock fades into the background.

Adriane pulls you back into a hug, and for the first time in years, you let yourself feel it — the warmth, the love, the mother you thought you’d lost. And somehow, standing here with her in your arms, it feels like you’ve come full circle.

After a long moment, she pulls back and wipes her tears, a shaky laugh escaping her. “Look at us. Crying like fools.”

You laugh too, sniffling as you wipe your own face. “It’s okay. It’s a good day to cry.”

A voice cuts through the noise — your team calling you for the podium ceremony. You glance over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the moment settle on you. You turn back to your mother, hesitant. “Will you stay?”

She smiles, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You nod, squeezing her hand one last time before you let go and jog toward the podium. The crowd’s roar is deafening as you step up to the top step, your name flashing on the giant screens around the circuit. The Brazilian flag rises slowly, and as the national anthem plays, you close your eyes and let the moment wash over you.

It feels like home. It feels like peace. It feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Later, after the champagne has been sprayed and the trophies have been handed out, you find Lewis waiting for you in the paddock, a grin stretching across his face.

“Not bad, Senna,” he teases, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “Not bad yourself, Hamilton.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, the chaos of the paddock swirling around you, but all you can feel is the steady beat of his heart against yours.

“Your dad would be proud,” Lewis murmurs, his voice soft in your ear.

You smile, closing your eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think he would be.”

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, casting the apartment in soft golds and pinks. You let yourself in quietly, the cool metal of the front door clicking shut behind you. Training was brutal today — your arms ache, and every muscle feels like it’s been wrung out. All you want is to find Lewis, maybe curl up on the couch together and recover with some takeaway.

You kick off your sneakers, already untying the knot in your ponytail, when you hear voices from the living room. You pause mid-step.

Lewis is talking to someone — no, two people. You creep forward on silent feet, heart quickening as the voices grow clearer.

“-I love her more than anything,” Lewis says, his voice low but certain. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Your breath catches. You flatten yourself against the wall, just out of sight. It feels like you’ve stepped into some kind of dream, one where the pieces of your life are rearranging themselves into something both surreal and perfect.

Then you hear your mother’s voice — gentler than it used to be, softened by time and the walls you’ve slowly chipped away.

“You want my blessing?” Adriane says, her words slow, as if she’s tasting them, feeling their weight.

“I do,” Lewis replies. “I wanted to ask both of you. It felt right.”

Both of them? You inch closer, daring to peek around the corner. And there they are — Lewis, sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him. Across from him sit your mother and Alain, side by side like a pair of mismatched bookends.

Alain leans back, arms folded, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s trying not to smile. “You realize what you’re getting into?” He asks dryly. “She’s more stubborn than Ayrton ever was.”

Lewis chuckles, but it’s a little nervous. “Yeah, I know.”

Adriane tilts her head, studying him like she’s trying to see through to his soul. “And if she says no?”

Lewis’ face softens, a quiet kind of love settling into his expression. “Then I’ll still be with her. Because I don’t need her to marry me to know she’s it for me.”

Something cracks open inside you. It feels like standing on the podium in Brazil all over again — overwhelming and humbling and impossibly full. You press a hand to your mouth, as if that will steady the emotion threatening to spill over.

Your mother leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. There’s a moment of silence so thick it hums.

“When Y/N was seven,” she begins slowly, “she told me she wanted to race. I told her no. I thought if I kept her away from the track, I could protect her from the same thing that took Ayrton from me.” She sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands. “But all I did was push her away.”

Alain clears his throat, glancing sideways at her. “It’s not easy,” he murmurs, more to Adriane than to Lewis. “Loving someone who belongs to the track.”

Your mother nods, her eyes glassy. “But you’ve made her happy. You’ve given her the space to be who she’s always wanted to be.” She pauses, blinking quickly. “And I see Ayrton in that. In you.”

Lewis rubs the back of his neck, clearly moved but trying not to show it. “That means more than you know.”

“And you promise me something,” Adriane says, her voice gaining strength, as if she’s gathering all her fears into this one request. “That you’ll never try to stop her. Not when things get hard. Not when it scares you.”

Lewis leans forward, looking her dead in the eye. “I swear. I’d never take that from her.”

Your mother exhales, like a weight she’s carried for years is finally lifting off her shoulders. “Then you have my blessing,” she says quietly.

Alain smirks, slapping Lewis on the back. “Looks like you’re in for the ride of your life.”

They laugh softly, the kind of laugh that comes with hard-won understanding.

And that’s when the floorboard under your foot creaks.

All three heads whip toward the sound, and you’re caught, frozen halfway between hiding and stepping forward.

Lewis’ eyes widen, and then a slow, guilty smile spreads across his face. “How long have you been standing there?”

You step fully into the room, arms crossed but fighting back a grin. “Long enough to hear that you’re plotting something.”

Alain chuckles, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I think that’s my cue to leave.” He winks at you, patting Lewis on the shoulder as he makes his way toward the door. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Alain,” Lewis mutters, rubbing his palms against his thighs, clearly nervous now.

Your mother rises as well, hesitating for a moment. She looks at you, her eyes soft. “I’ll call you later,” she murmurs, reaching out to squeeze your hand briefly before following Alain out the door.

And then it’s just you and Lewis, standing in the golden light of your apartment, the door clicking shut behind your mother and Alain.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice light. “So … what was all that about?”

Lewis steps closer, and suddenly the nervous energy from earlier melts away. He takes your hand, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your palm.

“Y/N …” he begins, and there’s something so tender in the way he says your name that it makes your heart skip a beat. “I wanted to do this the right way. To ask the people who mean the mos to you.”

Your breath catches as he drops to one knee, right there in the middle of your living room.

He pulls a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that catches the light like starlight on water. It’s simple, elegant, and perfect.

Lewis looks up at you, his dark eyes filled with love, nerves, and hope. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you at Imola. And I want to spend every day from now on making you as happy as you’ve made me.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, tears already welling up in your eyes.

“So,” he says with a smile that’s both warm and a little crooked. “What do you say? Will you marry me?”

For a moment, all you can do is nod, words caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. Then you finally find your voice.

“Yes,” you whisper, your smile breaking wide and free. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Lewis’ grin lights up the room, and he stands, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. You kiss him, slow and deep, and in that moment, it feels like everything — the years of struggle, of loss, of love — has brought you to exactly where you’re supposed to be.

When you finally pull away, breathless and giddy, Lewis leans his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face.

“Guess Alain was right,” he murmurs, grinning. “This really is the ride of my life.”

You laugh, pure and full, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “Buckle up, Hamilton,” you tease. “It’s only just getting started.”

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endereies · 2 days ago

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JUST NEED YOU - CS

No Nut November - Day 3

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort

Being awake late into the night repeatedly created such a messed-up sleep schedule and it was taking its toll. Ever since the triplets made a new schedule to fit around meetings and events, they found themselves filming into the dark hours of the day so that they could publish a higher quality video.

Chris was always energetic, and he portrayed that during every free opportunity. However, today was slightly different. Him and his brothers planned a stream about midday, along with a late filming session. Nothing he couldn’t handle until his team wanted to have a sudden meeting about his upcoming Fresh Love merch drop. It was early in the day compared to what he was used to.

The meeting wasn’t anything special, but it cut into the hours of rest he hoped would get him through the day. He wasn’t even sure of the meeting wasn’t necessary or a topic that couldn’t be discussed over a few strings of emails.

Then the streaming session followed. So many interactive tasks messed with his brain. Reading out the subs, communicating with the chat, following the requests, playing games while having to make the content engaging with commentary, it was becoming too much. Everything started to blur together, and his brothers could see that. They picked up on the subtle changes of their brother and brought the stream to a close.

“You going to be okay for filming dude?” Matt’s voice caught his attention and dragged it away from the day dream he didn’t even know he was having,

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just a little tired but I’m fine. I’ll grab an energy drink or something.” He shrugs, hiding the mental exhaustion on his face behind a meek smile. His brothers chose not to bring it up again and trust Chris with his words.

“Alright then, see you later.” Chris mumbled a goodbye to Nick, leaving the room to grab a drink from their fridge. The crack of the can giving him some hope that he’d feel more awake. But that’s the opposite of what happened.

The triplets had scheduled a car video for this Friday and if Nick wanted to have it edited by then, they had to film tonight. He was sat in the passenger seat, his third drink laying in the centre console. The filming started promising. Even with no topic, they each found small topics of conversation to entertain. He felt the drinks start to wear off and he couldn’t help but feel more agitated. Bantar turned into insults and left his mouth before he could process. Guilt filled his stomach as more words came out, eventually falling to silence.

When the camera finally stopped showing the red light, Chris sunk into his seat. Overstimulation ran through him by now and he hated it. Every cell in his body practically vibrated and he didn’t feel okay.

“Matt?” He offered a sincere tone to his brother, not opening his eyes while he leant back.

Matt glanced over to his body, evidently full of fatigue. “Yeah buddy?”

“Could you drop me at y/n’s house, please.” His brain felt fuzzy, he needed to just take his mind off his life for a moment. With his own home full of cameras, social media plans and reminders of what he had to do next, he needed a secondary. Your place held sanction to everything that made Chris feel calmer, safer. Away from cameras, away from his job and into your arms. When Matt hummed in response the car grew silent once more. Relief flooded him and a gracious smile twitched at his lips.

Neither Nick nor Matt uttered a word about the situation to Chris. They understood. There had been times where both of them had been in the same boat. The weren’t about to ridicule and tease Chris for that. Chris was just staring out the window at this point, falling silent which allowed the aux’s music to be heard. His eyes traced the painted lines on the road awaiting the moment those lines turned into the gravel of your drive way.

Chris knew you were home, he had been on and off messaging all day. Every few hours he’d receive a text from you just asking about his day. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to seek your attention after a harsh day, today was no different.

He found himself stood in front of your door for mere moments before pushing the door open. His breathes instantly levelled and a feeling of relief filled his body as he took in the familiar surroundings. “Baby?”

“I’m in my room, Chris!” It didn’t take him long before he wondered into your bedroom.

When he pushed the door open, the scent of your vanilla candles breezed past him, the light casting a soft glow against your skin. You were stood by your closet, organising out piles of clothes freshly washed and dried. He couldn’t help but admire the way the flickered candle lights lit up the room. You feel his eyes baring into yours.

“What’s s’matter babe?” You don’t lock eyes with him briefly as you stretch your body to place a t-shirt away. Chris dawdled towards you, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Too fucking much, m’exhausted and stressed.” His arms easily wrapped your waist, the feel of your skin making him sigh softly. You felt the pressure of his face, buried into your neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Would you want to lie down for a bit?” A small giggle passes your lips when Chris’s grip on your waist gets tighter. “Thought you’d never ask…”

Reluctantly, he let go of your body only for his hands to find yours, dragging you both towards your bed. Your bodies align so easily so that you were lying on his chest. Peppered kisses trace your features gently. Chris loves these moments more than anything, the times of the day where he could just be him with no camera or responsibility pushed into his face.

You settle your body in his arms, his heartbeat prominent when you placed your head flat on his chest. Chris’s hand finds his way to your scalp, running his fingers back and forth.

“You want to talk about your day?” You whisper softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze once more. Something in the way you look at him makes his body relax further.

He is quick to shake his head, planting a kiss on your lips. “ Jus’ need you…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa23 @emilyfaith2003 @zariyam @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone

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ot3 · 1 day ago

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top 10 pokemon that are girls

'gender'.... much like 'animals' this is a concept from our world that has made itself present in the pokemon franchise. all pokemon began having genders (except for the ones that don't) in the second generation of games, in order to facilitate the pokemon breeding mechanic which has become a staple of the main series

you may think this means the issue of which pokemon are girls and which ones aren't is already settled. but do we really trust game freak to be the deciding voices on this one? i certainly don't. so here's a nonexhaustive look at some pokemon that are doing their best to be role models for young women everywhere who have been picking up and enjoying these games for decades.

#10 - NIDORAN♀

Not only is Nidoran♀ canonically a girl, she is the first pokemon to be canonically a girl as the gender distinction between Nidoran types predates the introduction of gen 2's breeding system that gendered all pokemon. she broke the glass ceiling, and for this we salute her.

#9 - KANGASKHAN

Both culturally and in media single mothers are subject to a lot of scrutiny and scorn, but kangaskhan breaks the mold. powerful, responsible, yet loving and joy-filled. the look on her baby's face tells us all we need to know; she holds on tight to the pouch, clinging to the safety she knows her mother can give her, but gazes awestruck and wide-eyed at the world around her, knowing its wonders will be there waiting for her as soon as she feels ready for it.

#8 - CELESTEELA

Technically, celesteela's gender is 'unknown', but it's obvious that celesteela represents what life can look like for a woman who truly has it all. As one of the largest and heaviest pokemon ever discovered, she's not afraid to take up space. she doesn't feel the need to soften herself to be more accepted by the world around her, but she's also comfortable enough with her feminine side to let it shine through where and when she wants. nobody tells her how to live her life but her and also she has big lazers

#7 - MISMAGIUS

Well she's not called MISTER magius now, is she?

#6 - LYCANROC

Perfect embodiment of the wolfgirl you knew (or, perhaps were?) in middleschool. There are many doglike/canine pokemon in the dex, but something about lycanroc's exaggerated unkempt mane and lanky, awkward posture evokes the physicality of a teenager who exists as a beast beyond the boundaries of her own body.

#5 - CHIKORITA

This saultry little binch...

#4 - RAYQUAZA

It's an uncomfortable truth in life that many women find themselves in the position of needing to play the mediator in order to stop the people around them from acting in destructive or harmful ways. But just because mediating conflict can be a difficult and unfair position to be put into, that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Rayquaza just goes to show us all everywhere how a real woman can still thrive under these circumstances, doing her best to build a more peaceful world while not letting that push her into the shadows or make her take a back seat in her own life. she is a community leader and an innovator.

#3 - SALAZZLE

She's the archetypal femme fatale. A dominatrix. A baddie. Does she make me uncomfortable? Yes, absolutely. But I'm not a furry so I'm not really the target audience of what's happening here.

#2 - SLAKING

I know so many butches who look exactly like her. you love to see it.

#1 - MEWTWO

as one feminist philosopher has said: "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth is irrelevant, it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

I think any woman living in a patriarchal society can sympathize with mewtwo's story. enraged at being treated like the property of the people who created her rather than her own fully realized person, she goes on a rampage where it quickly becomes obvious that she is even more powerful than that what she was originally created in the image of. Although this takes her down a dark path, she eventually learns to self-actualize by working on herself rather than pointlessly lashing out at people who had nothing to do with hurting her. it's empowering stuff. doubly empowering because she killed all those clowns who DID hurt her

now, of course, there are plenty more pokemon that are girls than just what i've listed here today. but i hope youve learned a little something from this.

#pokemon

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luckykiwiii101 · 3 days ago

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FAV SUCCESS STORY QUOTES

ィ⠀Imagination, life is your creation⠀࿐

✰ “I've manifested so much physical changes when i stopped thinking about how the 3d needs to change. i focused on how i feel (state of already having your desires) and sustained that feeling.”

✰“I did absolutely nothing but focus on my desires/the 4D. I was delusional, I was detached from whatever bullshit was happening in my 3D and I was basically in love with my 4D.”

✰“the only reason why you fail, is because you haven’t accepted that imagination is the only reality, everything stems from imagination. the longer you focus on getting it in the physical world, the more stress you’ll have. you only want the feeling such desire brings you, so give it to your inner man.”

✰ “All i did was fulfill myself in my imagination, and stopped looking for confirmation in the outer world, whenever i felt the urge to “look for it in the 3D” i would close my eyes and see it in my imagination. That’s all i did, the first days i felt a little anxious but then everything was okay, and i was EXTREMELY calm.”

✰ “I started focusing on the feeling of having everything I wanted, without being specific because my subconscious/ god knows what it is, it’s when things started happening, and let me tell you it’s was so quick.”

✰“I didn’t work on my self concept, I didn’t do methods (however I tried SATs and it did work for me once but I stopped since I got lazy) I didn’t focus on time or logic, I didn’t do anything but focus on what was happening in my imagination.”

✰ “your only job in here is to think from the perspective that you already have it baby. don't stress yourself, everything will change because if it is in your imagination and you accept that it will reflect in the 3d, thats literally everything everything and everything . you don't need to change your thoughts, only your state, you want to get into the void this night? imagine however you want that you are waking up with everything you wanted, it is not a desire, it is the reality. you want proof? go to your imagination. everything is there.”

✰ All success stories are on @loasuccessarchive

✰ More coming soon!!! XOXO

- gossip girl

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wileys-russo · 1 day ago

Note

Mai i request a blurb or fic with Alexia or leah in their home with

"Oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch."

the collection II l.williamson

"babe!" you faintly heard your girlfriend call from downstairs, attention diverted from the laptop in front of you in the home office you and leah had turned your second bedroom into.

"yeah?" you called back, unable to hear her response. "babe? oi did you hear me?" leah yelled again as you sighed, closing your laptop and pushing away from the desk.

"lee, baby we've discussed this so many times that i cannot hear you unless you're in the same room or not-" you began to tell her off as you jogged downstairs but stopped as you saw the likely reason for her yelling.

"my package!" you squealed happily, almost bowling leah to the floor with the speed in which you zoomed past her and plucked the box from her hands, the blonde scoffing as you sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"this is what i was yelling about." you made an indignant noise as before you could even rip the box open leah appeared in front of you and snatched it from your hands, promptly pushing you back down onto the couch with her foot to your chest as you tried to stand.

"leah!" you huffed, smacking her sock covered foot away with a grimance as she tucked the box under her arm. "you, my girl, have a problem." leah began sternly, finger wagging at you as your eyes rolled.

"oh and do tell what is this so called problem i have?" you sighed, settling back into the couch with arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked in challenge toward the defender in front of you.

"you're addicted to online shopping." leah claimed boldly as you made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a choke as you shook your head. "i am not! leah this is ridiculous, give me my package." you demanded, wiggling your fingers at her expectantly as she firmly shook her head.

"this, is the fifth box to arrive on the doorstep addressed to you this week, and thats just whats arrived while i've been at home!" leah warned raising an eyebrow right back at you as you both stared one another down, unwavering.

"it is not the-" you were silenced by a fierce look from your girlfriend who suddenly went marching out of the room as you hurried to follow her, fingers itching to get a hand back on your package still tucked away in her arms.

"leah where on earth are we going?" you groaned in annoyance as again you tried to reach for the box and she darted out of your reach, marching through the house and right out the back doors as you sighed heavily and followed.

"exhibit a!" the english woman announced, having lead you around the side of the house and gesturing wildly to the near overflowing recycling bin hidden from public view.

it was due to go out tomorrow night as you made a mental note to remember to do that since leah was renowned for forgetting which is how the bin had ended up so full in the first place.

"what are you on about williamson?" you sighed deeply, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out to the side as you stared her down with pursed lips.

"evidence babe, cold hard undeniable evidence." leah held up a finger as if to pause whatever strange investigation she seemed to think was going on.

you groaned quietly as she placed your package down on the pavers, behind her and still out of your reach as, dramatically, she flung open the lid of the recycling bin and gave you an accusatory look.

"lee this is ridiculous just give me my package and-" "see!" leah interrupted, grabbing out an amazon box from the win and waving it about.

"a box? groundbreaking investigatory skills babe, consider me thoroughly impressed!" you clapped slowly, voice dripping with sarcasm as leahs eyes narrowed.

"you will see, exhibit b, the name on said box!" leah spun it around and tapped the label aggressively as you snickered and she glanced down, quickly flipping it around the right way and repeating the action.

"you mean to tell me a box was delivered to our home addressed to someone who lives here? scandalous!" you gasped, voice still alight with sarcasm as leah rolled her eyes and tossed the box onto the ground.

"exhibit c, d, e, f, g-" leah listed off, grabbing boxes of various shapes and sizes out of the bin, flashing your name on each one and tossing them into the growing pile on the ground as you watched on unamused.

"okay yeah leah alright you've made your point!" you finally snapped, stepping forward and promptly slamming the recycling bin lid closed, narrowly missing your girlfriends fingers as she whistled.

"touchy at the truth are we babe? ready to admit you've got a problem?" leah grinned happily as you shook your head and stepped forward.

"okay love you were right. i do have a problem-" you started with a small pout, hands coming to rest on leahs hips as she nodded in agreement. "-and that would be you." you promptly pushed her out of the way, snatching your package off the ground and striding away.

"don't forget to put those boxes back in the bin williamson!" you yelled over your shoulder, hurrying inside and ignoring the swearing and grumbling of the disgruntled blonde you left behind as you rummaged through the drawers for some scissors.

slicing down the tape you wrestled with the box for a moment before the flaps opened and you gasped, clapping happily and pulling its contents out, holding it at arms length with delight written clear on your face.

"oh you are fucking joking me! another one?" leah appeared at the back door, clearly nowhere near as impressed with your latest purchase as you were as you ignored her.

"you have about ten of those already! you do have a fucking shopping problem, i'm blocking your cards." leah huffed, attempting to snatch the plush pumpkin from your grip as you held it protectively to your chest.

"i do not! honestly and you say i'm dramatic leah?" you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. "and good luck considering i'm the one who deals with our finances." you blew her a kiss and ducked past her, only as you did she managed a hand on your latest stuffed friend and snatched it from you.

"leah! give it back-" you grunted, trying to wrestle it back but it was a fruitless task as she easily held you off with her other hand. "come." the defender barked, pushing you away again and headed for the bedroom as you scrambled to follow.

"exhibit...whatever bloody letter i was up to." leah waved it off, again shoving you away as you reached for the pumpkin she had in her grip. "babe, look! one, two, three, four, five, six-" your girlfriend began to count the series of jellycats sat on the bed.

"you have a problem!" leah poked at your chest as your eyes rolled and you mocked her under your breath. "say it, go on then." the girl demanded clapping expectantly as she tossed the pumpkin on the bed.

"no baby i can't, because we promised we wouldn't lie to one another." you pouted sarcastically, trying to reach past her to grab the pumpkin and squealing in shock as you were tackled to the bed.

"admit it! say you have an online shopping problem!" leah grunted, moving to sit on top of you as you wheezed and fought to throw her off.

"get off you haven't showered since training and you'll ruin them!" you whined, leah's eyes narrowing as she managed to pin your hands beneath her knees, not much taller than you but most certainly the stronger considering she was a professional athlete.

"oh? ruin these?" leah grabbed another jellycat in hand, this one a lime as you'd been on a bit of a food related kick with your purchases lately, and holding it up with a smirk.

"leah. put. it. down." you warned seriously, her smirk only growing. "i wonder what would happen if bella got a hold of one of these?" leah pondered, the two of you dogsitting for the week as amanda was away on a girls holiday.

"you do that, you'll be single faster than you can say north london forever williamson. put it down!" you growled as your girlfriend rolled her eyes, moving as if to place it down before she tossed it over her shoulder and you gasped.

"say you have an online shopping problem." "no!" this time it was a bright green frog which hit the bedroom floor and you gasped again. "say it babe."

"i do not have a problem. this is a hobby! like you collect vintage arsenal kits!" you accused, wriggling beneath her and groaning as you had no luck at all in throwing her off or getting a hand free.

"a hobby! please." leah scoffed. "i wear the kits, they have a purpose. these stupid little mounds of feathers or cotton or whatever the fuck they're made of just sit here all day. absolutely useless waste of money!" leah huffed as you inhaled sharply.

"they are not! they're loveable plush characters who have been around since the 90's with names and backstories and-" "oh my god if you buy one more stupid little plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch!"

"oh you'll kick me out will you miss needy?" you scoffed, raising an eyebrow in challenge, your girlfriend at her most clingy when the two of you were wrapped up in bed together of a night.

"if i need to. but these are just the tip of the iceberg of your online shopping problem! before this there was the stupid rocks-" "crystals." "then it was the stupid little action figures-" "pop vinyls." "then it was the fridge magnets-" "hey you said you liked that our fridge has personality now!" "and lets not forget the knitting, the colouring in, the necklace making kits, the paint by numbers-" leah listed off on her finger the countless hobbies you admittedly had invested quite a lot of money into before growing bored and moving onto something else.

"fine fine fine! i may have....some ever so slight difficulties with online shopping." you begrudgingly admitted, puffing our air with a scowl as leahs face softened.

"thank you. now was that so hard to admit?" your girlfriend smiled as your scowl only deepened. "get off me leah, right now."

leah rolled off of you as you couldn't wait and practically shoved her to the point she nearly fell off the bed as you stomped out of the room.

"babe! come on its out of love, i want to help you cure this problem." leah yelled out after you, hearing your footsteps thump back upstairs where the office was and sighing, already preparing her apology in her head before they sounded coming back downstairs and she paused.

"what are you-" she frowned seeing the odd assortment of objects in your hand, clearly looking as if you were struggling not to drop them as you carefully placed them down on the edge of the bed and leah scooted out of the way leaning back against the headboard.

"the hoverboard, the laptop dj set, the VR gaming headset, the rollerskates, the indoor golf set, the dartboard, the-" you listed off, pulling more things from under the bed or the back of the cupboard as leah suddenly seemed to run out of things to say, falling silent and blushing.

"now tell me, what are these leah?" you questioned the now quite large pile of leahs own dead hobbies on the bed as your girlfriend winced, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

"um...presents?" "oh? and who bought you these then? were they for your birthday? christmas?" you asked, hands on hips and staring her down as leah cleared her throat and chuckled uncomfortably.

"um. presents to me...from me?" "mmm, so...you bought them online. correct?" "...not all of them." leah clarified as you scoffed.

"right, right. so..." you trailed off, raising your eyebrows expectantly as the blonde let out a deep sigh and slowly crawled forward so she was sat at the end of the bed on her knees.

"my beautiful, smart, gorgeous, sexy-" "not the time for flattery williamson." "i am very very sorry for-"

however before she could finish the front doorbell rang diverting both of your attentions, right as your phone dinged and leahs once sorrowful eyes narrowed, the two of you locked eye to eye.

you began to slowly back out of the room, hearing the doorbell go again as your phone started to ring and leah hopped to her feet, stalking after you with a knowing look as you chuckled nervously.

"leah no!" you squealed as within seconds she was sprinting past you, holding you off with one arm and a leg as she cracked open the door, the poor delivery man jolting in shock as just leahs head appeared and her hand came to cover your mouth, keeping you at bay with her foot pressed to your stomach.

"delivery for a-" "oh no i'm sorry for the mix up mate but nobody by that name lives here, better return to sender if you would!" "leah catherine williamson!"

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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giannaln4 · 1 day ago

Text

For you? Anything.

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Even during the worst week of you life, and no matter how tired he is, Lando would do anything to make you feel better. (2.6k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, language.

a/n: And we are back to our regular schedule! Kinktober is officially over (kinda, more context here) so it's time to post regular fics. So, I wrote this sometime last week before the shit show of yesterday's race so that's why there are no mentions of it, but I do have some planned about that so we'll see when I can work on them. Anyway, this is for me and all the girlies who have been feeling stressed about work, let me know what you think!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

What a week it has been for you. You had done nothing but work on a stupid project your boss put you in charge of. It was very short notice, and the due date was creeping up on you faster than you would’ve liked.

The good thing is Lando had been away for weeks due to his job; not that you didn’t want to see him or that he was a distraction, nothing like that, but you always preferred to be with him instead of working, which isn’t something you would be able to do this time due to the amount of things you had to go over, but with the house all to yourself, you had the chance to get tons of work done.

It was finally the day of the presentation; you were supposed to pitch the finished project to management and honestly, you weren’t 100% confident in the job you had done. Usually, you were never too harsh on yourself, but with so little time to work on it, you knew there were some parts here and there that could’ve used a little more of your attention, but it was either use what you already have or show up with an unfinished project, so that would have to do. It wasn’t terrible; you were sure of that, but these people always found something to complain about.

You were there for only a few minutes before you were dismissed. What a fucking joke, you thought.

You didn’t even get half the presentation done, and the old dudes sitting across from you were already attacking you with questions, questions that didn’t even make sense or barely fit the theme of what you were trying to talk about.

Your boss was the one to send you out, saying something like “You have another week; we hope you’ll be more prepared next time,” before standing up and leaving the cold conference room, followed by the rest of the men that were surrounding him.

Only minutes after going back to your office you saw him come in, giving you notes on the things he thought you should work on. As the polite girl that you are, you just nodded and wrote down whatever he was saying, apologising for not turning it up on time, but as soon as he left, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face, ruining your make-up in the process. You still had half of your day ahead of you, so you calmed down, washed your face, and went back to work like nothing happened.

At the end of the day, however, that’s a different story. You went back home completely devastated. All those sleepless nights you spent with your nose buried in your laptop felt like a total waste.

As you drove back home, you tried your best to hold the tears, but it was getting harder by the second, especially with each step you took down the hall that led to the door of your apartment, and when you made it there, you started crying as soon as you closed the door behind you.

You instantly got rid of your uncomfortable clothes and got into one of Lando’s shirts, curling up in your bed and letting all that consuming and irrational feeling of failure sink in. You knew you weren’t a failure; you were well aware of your worth, but you couldn’t help but feel like that after miserably failing the presentation you worked so hard on.

Suddenly, the front door opening pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud sigh as you left the bed. You knew it was Lando coming back from his last race, and any other day you would’ve been happy to see him, running to the door to greet him with a hug like he deserved, but right now, you didn't want him to have to see you in that pathetic state.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, sighing again when you realised how obvious it was that you had been crying, so you’d just have to avoid eye contact.

“Hi baby,” Lando greeted you with his usual pretty smile as he entered your room.

"Hey,” you replied, immediately turning around and walking towards your desk, sitting facing away from Lando as you opened your laptop.

“Did you sleep okay last night? How did your presentation go?” He walked closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, kissing your temple.

“It was okay.” He stopped when he noticed your heavy mood.

"You alright, love? You seem down." His brows were slightly furrowed as he tried to make eye contact.

"Yeah, fine. I think I’m just gonna work on it a little more; there were some things missing that I need to include," you replied, clearly lacking energy.

“Hey now, let’s not do that." Lando turned the chair over to make you face him. He looked down and noticed your glossy eyes, a worried feeling growing inside him. “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”

You just shook her head briefly, a lip-tight smile covering your face. “Everything’s fine.”

“Y/N…” The slip of your name past his lips made you want to cry again. Of course you wanted to be comforted by your boyfriend, but you didn’t like the thought of him having to pick up the pieces anytime you messed up. As a tear rolled down your face, you realised that you didn't have the energy or even the desire to push him away “Oh baby, come here.”

Lando took your hand as he sat on the floor next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Your face was now buried in his black hoodie, the tears wetting it instantly as he brushed a hand softly up and down your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you." He would understand if you didn’t want to talk about it but would still like to know what was happening. If there was anything he could do to help, he would gladly do it. “Do you wanna talk?”

“I just-” A sob cut you off, “I- I couldn’t do it, even after everything I did, it wasn’t enough.”

“Is this about your presentation?” He asked, his voice softer than ever, and you simply nodded. “It’s alright-”

“No, Lando, it’s not alright. I worked hard to get it together, to get it ready for days and nights and I still failed, I’m so stupid-”

“Hey, baby, look at me," he interrupted you, pulling back a bit and gently lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “You know that’s not true; you’re so smart, and I've always admired your beautiful mind. You gave it your best, like you said, you worked really hard, and even if you didn’t get the reaction you deserved, you know I’m right here.” You simply nodded at his words as the back of your hand wiped some of the tears. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?”

"Because I don't want you to be disappointed in me like I am right now." You looked down to your lap as more tears fell from your tired eyes.

“You should know that I could never be disappointed in you, Y/N. You are so intelligent and kind; I’ve never met anyone with such a beautiful soul, so I don't ever want you to feel down about yourself because you are perfect." You felt both of Lando’s large hands caress either side of your face, bringing it up so he could look into your eyes again as he swiped at the tears that had managed to escape from your eyes.

The slight smile that had formed on your tear-stained face told Lando that his words meant something to you, and they did. “You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend for all those reasons." You giggled slightly. “And I’m sure that no one would disagree with me.”

“My boss would.”

“What does he know?” That made you laugh again, making Lando smile, a smile so sincere that told you he believed everything he just said.

"Thank you, baby, even though you’re being a little biased." You sniffled as you gently stroked the hand that was still on your cheek, keeping your eyes locked with his “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. You took a deep breath, feeling a lot calmer than you did five minutes ago as you looked at your laptop briefly.

“I should probably get back to work, though; I have to basically remake the whole thing and meet with them again next week.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to bed? You look pretty tired. We can cuddle, I know we both need it.”

“I would love to,” your gaze fell on your bed momentarily; it looked so comfortable, and it was literally calling your name, “but I really need to get this done, and I have to do it right this time. I don’t wanna be embarrassed again in front of a bunch of old dudes.”

You stood up from his lap and sat back on your desk, focusing on the screen in front of you as you began to analyse what you should take out and what you needed to add.

Lando just sighed. He knew there was no way he would get you to stop working if you already set your mind to it, but honestly, he thought he would get to spend every second with you once he got back home, so needless to say, he was a little disappointed that wasn’t the case.

He got it though; your job was important for you, and you would never settle for anything unless it was perfect. What made his blood boil was the fact that your boss had the nerve to make you feel like you weren't worth it.

“Did you eat something already?” He asked you, getting up from the floor and wrapping his arms around you once again.

“Uh- I’m not really hungry.”

“Why don’t I cook something for us? What do you say?”

“It’s okay, baby, you should go to bed.” You tilted your head to look at him and give him a quick kiss. “I know you are tired, the triple header couldn’t have been easy.”

You started collecting your things so you could take over a different part of the apartment. He had been travelling for weeks; it wouldn’t be fair to keep him up just because you needed to get work done.

“Where are you going?”

“To your office, if that’s okay. I really don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not-”

“Lan, I’ll be okay, I promise. Just go to bed, don’t worry about me.” Taking a few steps closer to him, you gave him a loving hug, “I love you.”

You left the room, holding everything in your hands as Lando just stood in the same spot. There was no way he would go to bed without you, not when you were feeling so down and it was clear you just needed to take a break.

Taking a deep breath, he started to make a plan in his head. He took the quickest shower of his life and got into something comfy, praying there was food, or more specifically, ingredients to cook you something that he wouldn’t mess up and that you would enjoy.

Everything seemed to be on his side when he found everything he needed to make some Alfredo. Everything was pretty much premade, so he knew he wouldn’t ruin it. He happily got to work, setting up a nice dinner as he hummed one of the songs that had been stuck in his head for who knows how long.

In the office, you were nearly breaking your head as you read the information you had over and over again. You kind of knew what it needed to be since your boss gave you a few specific notes, but then again, you weren’t feeling completely confident in your own ideas.

You didn’t realise you had been locked away for over an hour, your eyes getting insanely tired as you typed away. A break was needed and well deserved, and you were aware of this, but somehow it didn’t feel like you were making any progress, even though you had been working non-stop and you had already readjusted about half of the project.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you abruptly closed your laptop, your face falling to your hands as your eyes felt wet yet again. That was it; there was no way you could keep going. You needed to grab a quick snack and head straight to bed. You did have an early morning the next day after all.

Just as you were gathering all your strength to get up, you heard the door open, making you jump a bit.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” You laughed as your hand fell on your heart.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggled, walking towards you.

“What are you doing still awake? I thought you went to bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep without you. Are you almost done here?” He looked at your closed laptop, celebrating internally as he assumed you were done working for the night.

“Yeah, I guess. My brain stopped working, so I thought my future self can worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Good. Come here.” He extended his hand out to you, which you happily took. “Please stop overworking yourself, you know this isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” you let out a sigh as you accepted his embrace. “I’m seriously thinking about quitting. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something that doesn’t make me feel this stressed all the time.”

His hand was caressing your back softly as he pulled away to look down at you. “You know you can, right? And I really think you should. I make enough to support the both of us and even a family in the future... Baby, you don’t have to keep working there if you don’t want to.”

His words made a smile appear on your face. Not because he was offering to basically support you for the rest of your life, but because he brought having a family with you. “You know I’d never let you do that-”

“But if you do want to quit and just take a break, you can do that too,” he interrupted you. You nodded, seriously considering it, but that was something you would have to think about and have a serious conversation in the future if you ever did decide to do it.

“We’ll see. Right now, I just need something to eat and some sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Speaking about dinner, I made something for you.”

He took your hand and guided you to the dining room, a big smile on his face as he proudly showed off the beautiful set-up and the (hopefully) delicious dinner he managed to cook. He looked back at you expectantly, but his happiness quickly turned into a worried look when he noticed tears falling from your eyes again.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, a hand softly falling on your cheek as he leaned down.

You were out of words; you truly didn’t know what to say. This is just what you needed, and the fact that he went out of his way to do it for you meant a lot more than he could ever imagine.

“I- Lando, this is-” you cut yourself off when you couldn’t find the right thing to say, so you just jumped in his arms and gave him the tightest hug ever. “Thank you for everything. And I mean everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugging you back as he buried his head on the crook of your neck. “For you, my love, I’d do anything.”

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris one shot #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #giannaln4 writes

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ak4e7a · 3 days ago

Text

daddy's sorry – enha hyung line (nonspecific)

a/n: nsfw, obviously. 18+ only, mdni. for my daddy kink lovers @karinasbaby @heeslomll and @naomiarai HEHEHEHE <3

cw: 0.9k words; husband!hyung line, daddy kink, spit kink, breeding kink, brat tamer, use of "slut"

“princess, i’m home!”

he kicks his shoes off at the door and pauses. “baby?” he hesitates again. “maybe she’s in our room…” he mumbles to himself.

his footsteps echo through the house before they come to an abrupt stop in the open doorway to your shared bedroom. he gazes at you lovingly before approaching the bed.

“aww, she’s asleep. did my pretty girl get tired waiting for daddy to come home, hm? i missed you today.” he kisses your forehead, stroking your hair away from your face and noticing the dried up tears on your cheekbones. “have you been crying, my love? did i make you cry?”

his eyes briefly flick downward at your body. “… wait a minute… what’s this?”

he sits on the edge of your bed, pulling down the covers so he can take a better look at you. “you wore this to bed… for me? oh, my poor baby. my sweet little wife. you wanted to have some fun tonight, huh? wanted to get my attention with this? daddy’s sorry he was so busy at work recently, my love. i wish i came home sooner—i know i’ve been neglecting you for so long… barely get to spend time with you, only get to kiss you and hold you when you’re sleeping… you deserve a reward for being so good for daddy, even when i’m not so good to you. my patient princess.”

he slides down the bed, parting your legs, playing with the soft lace of your lingerie “gonna eat this cute little pussy ‘n stuff you full of my big cock real nice, yeah? i’ll make it up to you, baby. daddy will show you how sorry he is. daddy’s sorry, princess.” he places a kiss right over your lace-covered mound, letting out a shaky breath. “so sorry. daddy will fix it. daddy will make it better.”

he teases your folds, feeling the slick collect on his fingertips. “wet already. i bet you were playing with yourself before you fell asleep, huh? my needy little brat. you think you can replace daddy with your stupid toys?”

he tugs your panties to the side, parting your lips open with his other hand and placing another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your clit. “never.”

he sucks it into his mouth hard, groaning at the taste of you. “mhmm… that’s what i thought. there’s my good little girl, spreading her legs for me even in her sleep… fuck, i love you. can’t believe i haven’t eaten you in weeks… gonna show you how sorry daddy is, and how much daddy missed your perfect, pretty pussy.”

“fuck, i wish you were awake so you can watch daddy play with you.” his voice is muffled as he tongue-fucks your hole, his fingers digging into your thighs. “mmmmh, fuck. daddy loves you so much, sweetheart.”

he kisses your clit again, tenderly this time. “daddy’s sorry he hasn’t given you some quality time in a while. i’ll make it better, baby. i’ll be the husband you deserve, my love.”

he continues to eat you out, pulling you deeper and deeper from the clutches of your sleep.

“fuck…” he groans breathlessly, spitting on your swollen cunt. “sorry, princess. daddy can’t take it… have to be inside you now.”

he does nothing more than unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down just enough to get his cock out. “fuck, baby. you’re still so tight even after i’ve opened you up… god… this pussy’s mine, isn’t it? that's why you let me fuck you in your sleep, huh, sweetie? you’ve always been daddy’s little slut, haven’t you? obsessed over my cock like you can’t go a day without it.”

your eyes finally flutter open, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you see your husband hovering over you, his black necktie dangling in your face, the luxurious silk brushing against your cheeks.

“feels good, huh, brat? is that why you couldn’t stay asleep? daddy’s fucking you too good huh?” in your dazed state, all you can do is stare up at him, admiring his dark eyes and pretty, parted lips. “answer me, brat. no, not ‘mhmm,’ baby, i know i trained you better than that. use your words.”

“y-yes!” you cry out, not even sure about what he’s asking you.

“what? did i fuck you stupid already? my smart little wife already dumb on daddy’s cock? open your mouth.”

obediently, you open, and he drops a gob of spit on your tongue, grinning down at you devilishly as he does.

“swallow… show me. yeah, that’s a good girl. good fucking girl. you want daddy to breed your tight little cunt? yeah? is that what you want? say it.”

“yes, please!”

“no, no, no, darling, only good girls get to go to bed with a pussy full of daddy’s cum. c’mon, words, baby. you wanna be a mommy? wanna have my baby and be my cute little housewife?” he kisses you so tenderly on the cheek, unlike the nasty words he’s been spewing all night. “good girl. tell me you love me, baby. tell daddy you love him.”

“i-i love you, daddy!” you cry out as his cock batters against your g-spot.

his eyes crinkle up with a genuine smile. “awww, i love you, too, princess. love you more than anything. you’re so good to daddy, yeah? it’s only right that i breed you so you never forget you’re mine and only mine.”

–––

“you alright, sweetie? come here, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he kisses your forehead.

you pout, giving him a pointed look. he chuckles. “another one? you can have as many as you like, baby. sit tight for one second though, i’m gonna get a warm towel and some water for you, okay?”

#🀄️drabbles #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #jay smut #enha jay smut #enha jake smut #jake sim smut #enhypen x reader #enha hard hours

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witchesverse · 3 days ago

Text

life & death

pairing: agathario x reader

summary/request: the oldest deities, life and death, fall in love with a human but everything falls apart when her child dies. centuries later, you meet your past lovers on the witches' road.

content: angst without a happy ending, mention of death, crying, agatha being angry and hurt.

masterlist

You have been around since the start of life and since then, you have only managed to fall in love with two witches.

One of the witches was your complete opposite and not in a personality or aesthetic way, but in a way that she took life whilst you gave life. She was Death and you were Life. You would think that Death and Life would not be able to stand each other, but you craved each other.

For a very, very long time, she and you were each other's only lovers. Until you met Agatha Harkness. It was unbelievable that two of the oldest deities fell in love with a human, but it had happened.

Alas, it fell apart.

You had breathed life into the child growing in Agatha's stomach and all was good. His heartbeat was strong and you could feel his life churning through his body. Then, you felt nothing.

For the first time in existence, Life had fought Death.

It was wrong. It went against the natural order of life and death. But you could not bear to watch Death take away one of your most precious creations.

So, the boy lived for six years.

When Death came back for a second time, you couldn't fight her. It broke both of your hearts to watch Agatha cry and beg.

But even love cannot stop the natural order.

Once he was taken by Death, your relationship with the witches' was killed.

There was deep hatred in Agatha's heart for Life and Death. She hated how you did not keep the life in him and she hated how Death took the life. After that, everyone went their separate ways. The only connection you had with Death was feeling her take the life from your creations.

But centuries later, you met your lovers on The Witches' Road.

A grin was plastered across Rio's face as Agatha clawed at her and screamed in anguish.

"I hate you!" Agatha practically growled.

Rio turned to you with a dramatic surprised look on her face. "Do you hear that, my love? Agatha hates me! That's news I haven't heard before."

You stared at her, unsure of how to reply. Rio had always been the more sarcastic and cruel one, but her sarcasm seemed too cruel.

Agatha grunted, turned away and walked hastily down the Road.

Her coven glanced between the three of you with a look of confusion on their face.

You sighed. This was going to be horrible.

And so it was.

Rio continued to make comments towards Agatha, which only angered her. There were a few times you thought Agatha was going to slap her across the face.

You hadn't said much. Being Life, you preferred to watch people interact. You have done your job by breathing life into them, and now you can watch them use that life to their own liking.

It was as you all sat around a campfire you found yourself talking.

"I have a scar." Rio abruptly spoke.

Agatha laughed. "No, you don't."

Yes, I do." She insisted, glancing over at you and locked eyes. You shifted awkwardly under her gaze.

"A long time ago, Y/n and I had to do something we really didn't want to do, but it was my job and I had to do it."

Agatha stiffened.

"And in the process, we deeply hurt someone who we both love." You continued as you understood who she was talking about.

"And she is my scar," Rio concluded.

You wanted to say more, but Agatha stood and muttered something about needing fresh air. Naturally, Rio and you followed her.

Agatha stood in the middle of a deeper part of the forest. Now, that you were further away from the coven, you could feel how strong her life was and that made you smile.

You brushed your hand against Agatha's arm but she pulled away. "Don't."

"Agatha, you know we couldn't control it."

Wrong words. There were unshed tears in Agatha's eyes and her brow furrowed. You watched as pure anger filled her eyes before sadness washed over.

"Couldn't control it?" Her voice wavered with emotion. "You are Life and she is Death. What the hell do you mean you couldn't control it?"

She dug her finger accusingly into your chest.

Rio grabbed her finger and stepped into her personal space. Agatha tried to pull away but Rio kept a tight grip on her.

"I understand you are angry, but-"

"Angry? Are you fucking serious, right now?" Agatha made a noise of disbelief. "I feel furious, hurt, abandoned, heartbroken, and lost. You both took my boy away from me and expect me to just be angry? You are unbelievable."

You swallowed roughly. You had imagined this exact situation millions of times in your head, but now that it was actually happening, you didn't know how to react.

"Agatha, I loved Nicky dearly and taking his soul was the last thing I wanted to do. I gave you something that has never been given in all existence because I love you and him." Rio spoke calmly and sincerely, completely different from how she spoke sarcastically earlier.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have taken his life away." Her eyes flicked over to you. "And if you really loved me, you would've kept feeding him life."

"You're both monsters."

Those words stung. You bit your lip and held back tears from forming in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, not in front of them.

Being Life, you weren't used to being called cruel names. People praised and worshipped you. But being called such a cruel name by a person you loved broke your heart.

Agatha scoffed at the silence and walked back to the coven, leaving Rio and you alone.

Rio didn't seem as bothered by Agatha's words. Being Death, she was constantly called cruel names, therefore, she was used to it.

"It's okay to cry."

"I'm not going to cry." Your voice broke with emotion as you said that.

Rio sighed, pulling you into her embrace. You buried your face in the crook of her neck and you cried softly.

"Why can't she understand that we couldn't stop it?"

"Nobody will ever understand it. Humans think life and death are simple but don't realise how complicated it is."

Rio kissed your neck before pulling your face out of her neck and cupping it lovingly. She wiped your tears away with her thumb and sadly smiled.

It broke her heart that you were upset.

"I miss her." You sniffled. "I miss us."

Rio's brows furrowed and she wiped her own tears away. "I know."

You wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her softly. Your heart fluttered and you relaxed in her hold. Kissing Rio was one of the most magical feelings.

When you broke apart, you rested your forehead against hers.

"Do you think she will ever forgive us?"

"No, I don't," Rio answered honestly.

You sniffled. Her answer broke you but it was the truth.

No matter what, Agatha would never forgive you for what you did. You will always be considered a monster to her.

#agathario x you #agathario x y/n #agathario x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #bluewrites #agathario

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alvojake · 2 days ago

Text

Just You | C.SN

「pairing」 : san x fem!reader 「word count」 : 7.3k

「synopsis」 : he was just your annoying roommate that you just couldn't wait to get away from. all of his late night rendezvous started to get under your skin so you just avoided him like the plague. that was until you needed his help getting to class and of course he wanted something in return.

「genre」 : smut, fluff, roommate!san, roommate au, enemies to lovers(ish)

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, teasing, san acts like a doucebag but is actually pretty sweet, kinda mixed signals, kissing, rough and messy makeout, manhandling, petnames (princess, baby, darling, sweetheart...), dom!san x sub!reader, big dick!san, kinda inexperienced reader, praising, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting/marking, breast play, dirty talk, hickies, creampie, slight dumbification, rough sex, sickly sweet aftercare, mentions of a sex tape at the end, lmk if I missed anything!

A chill ran down your spine as you followed your best friend, Harper, into the school’s main building. The storm from the night before brought a cold front along with it, making the air even more chilly than it’s normally been since fall started. Shaking off the chill, you looked around the hall, noticing that there were fewer people than usual.

“Oh yeah, y/n, did you hear about the science wing?” Harper asked as she fastened the strap around her umbrella after closing it.

You rubbed your hands together, trying to gain some warmth back into them before looking over at her confused, “I haven’t heard anything; what happened?”

“The whole building flooded, apparently, so they moved most of the classes to different buildings.” She explained as the two of you maneuvered your way down the hallway. However, she could tell by the panic in your eyes that you hadn’t heard anything. Stopping, she turned to look at you with a hint of worry: " Didn’t you get the email this morning?”

“No, the storm knocked the power out in the entire apartment complex, so my phone didn’t charge,” You started to panic a little as you pulled the device from your back pocket, and just as you thought the screen would turn on, meaning that it was dead, “it also reset my alarm clock when it came back on this morning so I woke up late and rushed to even get here on time and—”

“Y/n. Girl, please take a breath,” Harper grabbed your arm softly, making you look over at her, “Why didn’t San wake you up? You guys have chem together.” Her question was innocent, but the mention of your douchebag roommate made your mood sour so much more.

“San, wake me up? That’s funny, actually.” You scoffed, shoving your phone back into your pocket and running your fingers through your hair, “No, he was out late at night, probably getting his dick wet per usual.”

Harper couldn’t help but grimace at your vulgar words, but she knew you were right. San was the residential fuck boy, after all.

“I’m sure there’s someone from your class here, just ask them.” She asked as she looked around the hall, trying to stop a familiar face, but came up blank, and so had you.

“Son of a bitch.” You cursed lowly, looking around the hall once more, hoping by some miracle that you would see someone, but again, you couldn’t find a single familiar face. Then, an idea popped into your head, causing you to look back at Harper with wide eyes, “Harp, can I use your phone?”

Harper looked at the time before turning to look at you with a solemn look, “Sorry, babes, I’ve gotta get to class.” She patted your arm before a familiar face caught her eye, “isn’t that San? Why don’t you ask him?” She asked, pointing over your shoulder, and when you turned, sure enough, standing there on the other side of the hall was none other than Choi San, your douchebag roommate.

Watching him chat and laugh with his friends like he didn’t have class in twenty minutes made your blood boil, it pissed you off. However, it pisses you off even more that you care enough to get upset. His carefree attitude and his self-righteousness were probably some of his more annoying traits, yet… it was also insanely attractive to you, and you hated it.

“Hey, earth to y/n.” Harper waved her hand in front of your face, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, “Go ask him.”

“Fuck me.” You groaned, and Harper patted your shoulder with an apologetic smile. After a few moments of contemplating if you really wanted to ask San for help, you just let out a sigh, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Harper. That is if I don’t get arrested for attempted murder.”

Harper laughed softly with a shake of her head, “Good luck, girl.” Then she made her way down the hall towards her classroom, leaving you standing there.

Mustering up enough willpower to ask your attractive annoying roommate where your class had moved to. Hiking your bag higher up your shoulder, you turned and made your way over to where he was still talking to two of his friends. Once you were within eyesight, a smirk tugged on the male’s lips, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his letterman jacket. Your mind then started to wonder if it smelled like his cologne that you had grown attached to or how warm it was.

“What brings you here, roomie?” San asked, pulling you from your thoughts. Heat rushed up your neck, warming your cheeks. His feline-like eyes trailed the length of your body, which only irritated you further, seeing as you thought it was a bright idea to wear a skirt.

“San.” Your tone was curt as you looked at him, arms crossed over your chest as you tried with all your might to keep your voice steady despite the heat from his gaze. “Do you know where they moved chem?” The sas in your tone caused both of San’s buddies to laugh; one, who you recognized as Song Mingi, hit San’s arm as they looked down at you.

“Yeah, I do, why? Need help getting there?” He asked smugly, a knowing gleam in his eyes that told you that he was already sure that you did, in fact, need his help.

You inhaled sharply, trying to fight the urge to tell him no and walk away just so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing that you needed his help. However, you knew that if you did that, you would just end up being late to your class or missing it altogether. So you licked your lips before rolling your eyes and nodding.

“Yes, I do. My phone is dead, and there’s no one else from our class here," you told him, a small glare adorning your features, causing San to chuckle. The sound alone was enough to make you weak in your knees, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“All you have to do is ask princess.” San’s lip quirked into a sly smirk as he pushed himself off of the wall, taking a step towards you. His teasing tone made you wanna punch him in his stupidly attractive face because you would rather be caught dead than ask him straightforwardly.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you glared up at him, “Fine, I’ll just figure it out myself.” With that, you turned and started walking down the hall, trying to ignore the fit of laughter behind you.

San shook his head before looking back at his friends with a dimpled smile, “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You grumbled angrily to yourself as you made your way back out of the building, head on a swivel, hoping to spot anyone from your chem class to ask for the whereabouts of the building. The cold, harsh wind swept across your body, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

“You sure today was a good day to wear a skirt?” San teased as he stopped right next to you, his voice making you jump slightly. His eyes trailed along the length of your body once more, noticing the layer of goosebumps that covered your legs and how you were starting to shake.

You crossed your arms over your chest once more, trying to warm yourself up, “what do you want, San?”

“I'm taking you to class, of course.” He flashed you his signature dimpled smile, and you had to turn away as heat rushed to your cheek, turning your face red. For once, you were thankful for the chilly wind. “Come on, my car is this way.” San motioned over to the parking lot before he walked off.

You wanted to just tell him to screw off, but you couldn’t not unless you wanted to freeze out in the cold while you tried to find your class that you would inevitably be late for. So, swallowing your pride, you made sure no cars were driving by before jogging across the street and to San’s side.

San glanced over at you as you walked next to him, the small pout that was on your lip made his hands itch, wanting nothing more than to kiss it off. But he decided against it and just reached over, poking your cheek, causing you to swat his hand away and glare up at him.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, turning back to face away from him, causing him to chuckle.

“You’re cute when you’re all pouty.” He teases, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and unlocking his car.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his remark, trying to ease the swarm of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Once you got to his car, you didn’t say a word as you walked over to the passenger side, but San was quicker and opened the door for you. You looked over at him skeptically and he just smiled at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

“Ladies first.” He mocked a bow as he gestured to the open door, and your eyes narrowed, trying to read him but to no avail, so you just let out a huff before stepping into the car.

San shut the door after making sure you were in completely before rounding the car and climbing into the driver's seat. He started the car and turned the heat on, making sure some of the vents were facing you before putting the car in reverse.

Your heart nearly stopped when he put his hand on the back of your headrest, turning his head to look behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but stare as he did so, and noticing your gaze, he turned back around and winked at you in the process. Heat rushed to your face making your ears ring in embarrassment from being caught. San chuckled softly as he threw the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive over to the new building was filled with the hum of San’s car engine and the quiet music that spilled from the radio. Your leg bounced as you stared out the window, the little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of who you were sitting in the car with.

“Did you not check your email this morning?” San asked, glancing over at you just as you turned your head to look at him with a deadpan expression.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you shook your head, “No, the power went out. Which you would have known if you weren’t so busy sticking your dick in some random bitch.”

Your snarky response made San smirk, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he turned into a parking lot. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

A scoff escaped your lips as you looked at him in disgust despite the rapid beating of your heart. There was no way in hell that you would be jealous that he was fucking some random girl almost every week. Rolling your eyes, “Why would I be jealous? Who knows what you have.”

Parking the car, San looked over at you with a smug smirk, leaning over the center console until he was inches away from you. Your breath hitched in your throat when you turned to find him so close, wide eyes staring into his eyes.

“Who said I was talking about me?” He quipped, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes once more.

Your face felt as if it were on fire as you stumbled over your words, none of which made any sense the moment they fell from your lips. San, of course, was enjoying every second of it as he continued to lean closer to you, watching in amusement as you backed away until you couldn’t anymore.

“S-San.” Your tone held a warning as you got ready to push him away, but he reached over to the door, pulling his student ID out of the compartment.

“What’s wrong, princess? You didn’t think I was gonna kiss you, did you?” He raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat back down in his seat.

Annoyance flowed through your veins as he continued to stare at you with that stupid smirk. Your jaw tightens as you unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag from the floorboard. Just as you were about to open the door, San locked them, causing you to look at him with a glare.

“What the hell San?”

“I’m going to be out late with the guys, so make sure to leave some dinner for me," he told you before turning the car off and unlocking the doors.

You just stared at him in disbelief, trying to find where the hell he got the audacity to try to order you around. Running your tongue over your teeth, you pushed the car door open, “You’re such an ass.”

San watched as you got out of the car, slamming the door behind you before storming off to the building, not even giving him a chance to catch up. He sighed before getting out of the car and following after you.

During class, no matter how many times San tried to grab your attention or even talk to you, you would just ignore him. Once the professor was done lecturing and left you to do your class work, you quickly pulled out your headphones, hoping to drown out any and all of San’s attempts with music. This worked until class was over.

“Hey, y/n, did you need—”

“No.” Your response was curt as you pushed past San and right out of the classroom because you weren’t about to be stuck in the car with him once again, not after the stunt he pulled before.

San had to bite back the smirk that was fighting to spread across his lips as he watched the tips of your ears turn red any time he got even remotely close to you. Though he knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when the two of you lived together.

You did owe him, after all.

—

Later that night, you found yourself standing in the kitchen waiting for the last of dinner to finish up. Watching with tired eyes as the time counted down before finally going off, you pulled the food out of the oven before plating everything on two separate plates and cleaning off all of the dishes that you had used to cook dinner.

Just as you stuck your own plate of food into the fridge, you heard the front door open, and your eyebrows furrowed. San wasn’t supposed to be back for at least another hour or so, you thought. Shrugging, you just grabbed his plate and sat it down on the table before making your way to the hallway, only to run right into San.

“Fancy meeting you here,” San teased, grabbing your arms softly as you pulled away from him. You looked up at him with a half-tired, half-annoyed expression before you noticed that he was alone, which was a surprise.

“We live together, San,” you said before moving to step around him. "Your food is on the table.”

Noticing that you didn’t have a plate or anything with you, he quickly reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him. A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips as you stumbled back into him once more.

“Where’s your food?” He asked softly as you started rubbing your temples, just ready to escape back into your bedroom, not wanting to deal with any more of his mixed signal bullshit.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat, y/n," San said before moving down to grab your wrist and pulling you into the dining room, ignoring all of your protests.

“San, seriously, I can eat later.” You groaned, trying to slip out of his grip, but his hold was far too strong.

He ignored you as he pushed you to sit down in the chair with his food in front of it. You opened your mouth to say something, but he fixed you with a stern gaze, and you quickly shut your mouth. Sighing, you grabbed the chopsticks and started eating slowly as San watched you for a moment before turning and going into the kitchen to grab the other plate.

When he sat back down, the two of you ate in silence, and you weren’t sure how much more awkward silence you could take before you went insane. So you finished your bite and went to push away from the table, but San’s voice stopped you.

“So, about what you owe me.” He started, setting his chopsticks down to look over at you, finding your confused expression. “Don’t tell me you already forgot about me helping you get to class.” He smirked, intertwining his fingers together to rest his chin on top of them.

You inhaled sharply as you figured out what he meant. Of course, he wanted something in return. Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in your chair, ready to hear whatever it was that he wanted in return. “What do you want, San?”

“You.” His response was curt, and you almost choked on the air as you looked at him with wide eyes. After a few moments, the shock wore off, replaced by annoyance.

Standing from your seat, you shoved the chair back under the table, “Yeah, no.” You huffed as you went to grab your plate, but San grabbed your wrist, tugging until you were standing next to him.

“I’m serious, y/n.” He looked up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he really was being serious or not. The last thing that you wanted was to become another notch on his belt.

“So am I San. I’m not becoming another one of your little playthings.” You stated, pulling your arm from his grasp and grabbing your plate.

You walked into the kitchen, narrowly missing his attempt to grab you once more, and rinsed your plate off. Annoyance radiated off of you in waves as you scrubbed the plate in your hands; you knew that being anywhere near San would only piss you off. Now, with his outrageous proposition, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset by it.

Sure, San was hot and was almost everything a girl looked for when looking for a boyfriend, but the only downside is that he never settles. You’re pretty sure that’s what bugs you the most because even if you said yes in hopes of something more happening, the chances were slim to none. So you just put your pride first and decided that you wouldn’t let it happen despite the growing heat that pooled in your core at the thought of San actually wanting you like that.

You had become so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed that San walked into the room until the water was turned off and hands were placed on either side of your body.

“San—” Your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to find him merely inches away. His grip on the counter was tight enough to let you know that you wouldn’t be going anywhere until he moved.

Looking up at him you scanned his face as his eyes flickered down to your lips once again. Dipping his head down, he moved until he was a breath away from your lips, and you were sure that your heart was in your throat at this point.

“San…” Your voice shook as you tried to back away, but the counter behind you left you little to no room to do so.

“I want you y/n. Just you.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your face causing your eyes to flutter, but you fought against the urge to give into him. Placing your hands on his shoulders to push away but he moved closer to you, his lips ghosting over your cheek. “Let me prove it to you, please.”

A whine fell from your lips when his breath blew over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The small noise was enough to drive San insane as he pressed against your body and moved to look down at you.

“Fine,” You released a breath as you looked up at him with a hooded gaze, “but I swear to go if you’re lying to me.”

San didn’t need to hear anymore before he reached up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “I’m not.”

Then his lips were on your with an almost bruising force, stealing all of the air from your lungs. A meek whimper fell from your lips as you tried your best to keep up with his pace, but it was impossible. San’s other hand moved from the counter to grab your waist, pulling you even closer, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies.

“San.” You let out a breathy moan as his lips trailed down your jaw before latching onto the burning skin of your neck. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders tightly, trying to ground yourself, but your mind was slowly slipping as San left dark purple and red marks along your jugular.

“Don’t slip away from me yet, darling; we’re nowhere near started.” His voice was husky as his lips grazed over your ear before nipping at the shell, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His hands trailed down the length of your body as he captured your lips once more, finding the back of your thighs and hoisting you onto the countertop. A gasp fell from your lips, muffled by his as your hands clutched onto his shoulders.

Slotting his body between your thighs, he grabbed the back of your neck once more, pulling you down to kiss him once more. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you obey, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to explore every inch of your warm cavern.

He soaked in all of the little sounds that you made as he continued to play with your body until you were shaking in his hold from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His fingers danced along the hem of your sleep shorts, igniting a fire in the pit of your gut, and a whine fell from your swollen lips when he moved away.

“As hot as it would be, I’m not gonna fuck you in the kitchen. Not this time, at least.” He chuckled, watching the way your doe eyes stared up at him, a silent plea gleaming in your orbs. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of your thighs once more before hoisting you onto his waist.

“Shit.” You groaned when you felt his hands cup your ass after your legs wrapped around him. The way his scent was surrounding you like this was making you dizzy, your nose buried in his neck as he carried you out of the kitchen. “You smell so good, Sannie…”

A chill ran down San’s spine when he felt your lips press against the sensitive skin right under his ear. He tried to keep his composure as you left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. There were sure to be marks in the morning.

“Princess…” San warned as you snaked your hand under the collar of his shirt, raking your nails down the taunt skin of his back. A loud gasp fell from your lips when his hand made contact with your ass, the skin stinging from the force, “don’t be a brat now.” He growled, but you only responded by latching onto his neck, biting down harshly, threatening to break the skin. “Fuckkk.”

San was losing his composure by the minute, and the moment he finally made it to his bedroom, he was on his last strand of sanity. Throwing you onto his bed, he quickly crawled over you, trapping your body underneath his once more.

You looked up at him, focusing on how his eyes trailed all over your face before settling on your lips. His hips were pressed firmly against yours, and you could feel his bulge pressing right against your clothed core. You rolled your hips in search of some kind of friction, but San was quick to halt your movements, his grip tight on your hip as he moved a breath away from your face.

“Such a needy little thing. Weren’t you just saying today that you didn’t want me?” He teased, and your face grew warm as you recalled your conversation in the car, “but don’t worry, sweetheart, as long as you’re a good girl, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.” San smirked as he took in your lust-filled expression, your hips trying to move despite his firm grip.

“I’ll be good, Sannie, please.” You begged, hands grabbing at his shirt, causing him to chuckle darkly.

He then moved his hand from your hip, fingers hooking around the band of your shorts, tugging the fabric down your legs harshly, leaving your bottom half completely bare.

As soon as the cool air hit your heated center a whine fell from your lips, tears already pricking at your eyes. San watched you intently as he moved his fingers down your navel, slipping between your folds, collecting some of your slick on his digits before pressing down on your clit. A choked moan tore through your lips, back arching off of the bed.

“So wet and so sensitive, aren’t you, princess.” San chuckled as he slowly circled your clit, watching your jaw fall slack. Moving from your clit he traced along your slit before plunging one of his fingers into your warm heat.

“San!” You cried out at the sudden intrusion, tears already spilling from the corner of your eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight, fuck when was the last time you got laid?” San groaned, not missing the way you covered your lower face, and turned away from his gaze. Chuckling, he bent down, peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone, “No need to get shy on me now, darling, plus you won’t have to worry about that after today.”

Heat rushed up your neck at what his words implied, but any thoughts were wiped away the moment he interested a second digit, his thumb pressing down on your clit. Your back arched off of the bed, pressing your chest against his when he brushed over that spongy spot deep inside of your cunt. Taking note of your reaction, San continued to abuse that spot, relishing in all of the lewd, wet noises that were coming from your cunt the wetter you got.

“San– fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, eyes squeezing shut as your legs started to tremble, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening by the second, threatening to snap any moment.

“Go ahead, baby, make a mess of my fingers.” San cooed, nipping at your jaw as your high came crashing down, your whole body trembling in his hold while he worked you through your orgasm. Once the high faded, it was replaced with oversensitivity, making you whine, grabbing at his wrist.

“San–” You choked on a moan as he curled his fingers in you once more, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips.

He so desperately wanted to absolutely demolish you, leave you ruined for any other man, so you had no choice but to come back to him. But he didn’t want to scare you away when he finally had you right where he wanted you. So he decided to leave his more sadistic tendencies for another time.

With one last stroke of his finger, he pulled them from your soaping cunt, causing you to whine from the empty feeling. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, making your body turn into putty in his hands.

“Don’t worry, princess, I won’t leave you empty for too long.” He slurred, lips trailing down your jaw once more before he pulled away to discard his clothes.

Your eyes were glued to his body, watching as he stripped himself. The sight left your mouth watering the more skin he showed. His perfectly chiseled abs were covered in a thin layer of sweat making his honey skin glow under the dim lighting. Noticing your gaze, he smirked, tugging his sweats off of his legs and letting his cock spring free.

The sight of his angry red tip made you swallow hard. Sure, you have been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. Sensing your unease, San shot you a reassuring smile before climbing onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard. He then motioned you over, and you slowly climbed onto your shaky knees, making your way over to him.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. We’ll go slow.” His voice was soft as you climbed into his lap, hands tight on his shoulders as you leaned against him. "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, we can stop, okay?” he asked, fingers rubbing your thighs soothingly. You nodded, but San wasn’t satisfied with just that. He grabbed your jaw gently to pull your attention to his face. “Words, princess.”

“O-Okay.” You stumbled over your words when you felt him press against your bare heat, making your whole body shiver.

“Good girl.” He praised you, hands finding the ends of your t-shirt and pulling it swiftly over your head, leaving you in your bra. You started to rock your hips against his, dragging your soaping cunt along his dick, making him hiss through his teeth. His hands trailed from your thighs up your back until he reached the clasp of your bra, quickly undoing it and throwing it away, letting your breast pop free. “So pretty.” San groaned, hands moving up to cup your soft mounds while you continued to rock against him.

“Sannie…” You whined when he started to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples, another high already close.

“Fuck you’re so hot like this.” San groaned as he watched you grind against him with fever, chasing another high, your hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly. He then slapped your ass once more, causing you to yelp and your movements to falter.

He then grabbed both of your ass cheeks and pulled you flush against him, another choked moan tearing from your lungs when your clit pressed against his pelvic bone. Using his strength, he guided your hips against his until you were a whining, trembling mess as another orgasm washed over you.

“F-Fuck San.” You choked out another moan as he continued to rock your hips, prolonging your orgasm. Your nails dug into his skin, threatening to break it as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

After a few more moments, he let up on his grip, allowing you to just lay against him, but the feeling of his throbbing cock under you made your mind reel, wondering what it would feel like to be stuffed full.

“Come on, princess, ride me.” He nipped at your shoulder, causing you to shudder, but you lifted yourself from his neck nonetheless.

San leaned back, watching as you rose on shaky legs and reached behind you to grab his cock. Swallowing thickly, you started to jerk him off, earning yourself a low groan from the male, watching the translucent precum spill from the slit before you moved to slide the head between your slick folds.

You whimpered as you slowly started to sink down on his length, head becoming fuzzy from the stretch while San bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pulling you down all of the way. He didn’t want to hurt you, so he let you take your time, for now, watching with hooded eyes as you let yourself sink deeper and deeper on his cock.

You both moaned simultaneously, him from the way your tight cunt squeezed around him and you from the way he stretched you wide open. Tears dripped from your eyelashes as you tried your best to sit down fully, but you were starting to think you couldn’t fit him, making you whine. San chuckled, his hands squeezing your hips gently.

“Come on, princess," he cooed at you, watching you intently as you continued to try and sink deeper. "You’re almost there; you can do it, can’t you?”

You nodded vigorously, eye meeting his with a pleading look, and he tightened his grip on your hips, helping you sink down his length until he was fully bottomed out. He hissed through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut from how tight you were, and you let out a loud whine before your head dropped down into the crook of his neck.

You could feel him in all of the right places making your brain turn into mush, even more tears spilling from your eyes. It took you a few moments to get used to the new stretch before you even attempted to roll your hips against his. San groaned at the way your cunt continued to squeeze around him, your pace almost painfully slow, and he had to steel himself so he wouldn’t take over, but his sanity was hanging on by a thin string.

All of your sweet sounds were muffled by his neck as you continued to rock against him. The feeling of his tip brushing over your sweet spot with every roll of your hips made stars dance along your vision. San let you continue your treacherous pace while his hands continued to roam your body, squeezing at every inch of skin he could reach, soaking in all of the soft noises you were making.

Soon enough you were able to lift yourself up before dropping back down, all of your slick making it easier to glide along his length. San groaned as you kept your slow pace, his grip tight on your hip, trying his best to keep up, but he was slowly slipping away.

“Sannie.” You whined as he pulled your face out of his neck, crashing his lips into yours, swallowing all of your noises as you continued to ride him. His hands guided your hips, positioning you into a new angle that left you gasping for air, your pace faltering altogether.

San groaned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, “Fuck princess, I’m sorry.” He apologized, and before you could even ask what he meant, he planted his feet behind you and stilled your hips before bucking his hips up into you.

A choked moan tore from your lungs as he set a brutal pace, his tip hitting all of the right places to leave you seeing stars. Incoherent moans and cries of his name fell from your lips as your back arched against him. San took the chance to latch his lip onto your chest, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving behind dark marks, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand flew to his head, fingers combing through his hair as he continued to suck on your breast.

White spots started to cloud your vision as you felt your high creep up on you, a loud whine was pulled from you as San bit down on your nipple. You couldn’t even warn him as your body tipped over the edge, your body convulsing in his hold, broken and incoherent babbles being the only thing that came from your mouth as San continued to fuck into you.

“Fuck baby,” He groaned loudly from how tightly you were squeezing around him, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer, not with the way your sweet little cunt was sucking him in, “‘M close– fuck, where do you want me to cum princess?”

You whined as your head fell back from the overstimulation, your thighs burning, begging to relax. You didn’t even register his question until he nipped at your collarbone.

“Inside.” You whined, and San could have sworn he died and gone to heaven, “I’m on the pill, inside, please, Sannie.” Your begging only brought San even closer to his end, and with a few more thrusts, he brought your hips flush against his, spilling deep into your womb.

The warmth was a new feeling making you squirm in San’s lap, your walls spazzing around him as you came once again, milking his cock for all that he was worth. Your body shook in his hold as you buried your face in his shoulder once more, a strangled whine muffled by his skin.

San wrapped his arms around your body as you both came down from your highs, his fingers tracing shapes on your skin to help soothe you. After a few moments, he pulled your face from his neck, making you look up at him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, princess, and then we can sleep," he whispered as he peppered your face with soft kisses, causing you to giggle.

So he slipped out of your spent cunt before helping you clean up and handing you one of his shirts to slip on, even if your room was just across the hall. Then, once you were both back in the bed with the lights out, he pulled you close to him, his face buried in your neck, pressing gentle kisses all along your skin.

“God, I love you.” He spoke quietly, unsure if you had even heard him until you shifted around to face him.

Your hand cupped his face gently as you pulled him down for a kiss, this one completely different from the ones before. It was sweet, gentle, and filled with longing like the both of you had waited an eternity to share it.

“I love you too, even if you get on my last nerve.” You smiled as he chuckled and nuzzled his head into your chest. And that’s how the two of you fell asleep, content and happy in one another's arms.

–

The next morning, you woke up to the sun shining on your face. Groaning, you moved your arm to cover your face. The sun never came through your window this early in the morning, so confused, you cracked your eyes open and looked around.

Your heart then dropped when you realized that this wasn’t your room but San’s. Swallowing thickly, you looked down, seeing that you were wearing his shirt. All of the events from the night before flashed in your mind, making your face heat up.

Looking over, you found the spot next to you empty, making your heart sink. You couldn’t help but think of the worst: that he had been lying to you the entire time, and you felt stupid for even thinking that he was being genuine.

“Stupid.” You grumbled as you caught sight of your phone plugged in by his bed. Reaching over, you grabbed it and turned the screen on. Seeing the time, you almost had a heart attack until you saw the date, seeing that you didn’t have any classes today.

Then, your attention was brought to the few messages you had: one from Harper, one from a project partner, and one from San. You debated opening the one from San, but despite your better judgment, you clicked on it.

‘Had to get to class this morning, but there’s breakfast in the fridge. I’ll see you after class, princess.’

Your cheeks flushed red as you reread the message multiple times, hoping that you weren’t just hallucinating. Biting back a smile you typed a quick message saying that you’ll see him after class and thank you for the breakfast before backing out of his message.

Throwing the blankets off your body, you moved to stand, only to have to sit right back down as your legs shook. The tips of your ears turned red as you remembered how rough San had been the night before, and butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach.

Once you were able to stand on your wobbly legs, you made your way out of the room and towards the kitchen, messaging Harper. She then called you so you propped your phone up on the counter so she could still see you as you grabbed your food.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty– are those hickeys?!” She exclaimed, nearly making you drop your plate as you quickly turned to look at her like a deer caught in headlights. “Wait… is that San’s shirt?”

Swallowing thickly, you closed the fridge before walking over to the counter. "Maybe… " you trailed on nervously, and Harper just fell silent for a few moments.

“Wooyoung owes me twenty bucks.” She cheered, and you couldn’t help but look at her with a raised eyebrow, “We bet on how soon you two would just fuck it out.”

“You– what?” You choked on the air as you looked at her with wide eyes causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles, wiping fake tears from the corner of her eyes after she calmed down.

“Girl, please. We all could sense the sexual tension between you two.” She shook her head as you just looked at her dumbfounded. “So… how was it? Pretty good if those hickeys are anything to go by.”

Your face started to burn once more as you shoved your mouth full of food to avoid the conversation. Grabbing your phone, you walked into the dining room and sat down at the table. Harper watched you with a smirk getting a kick out of how flustered you were.

Swallowing the food, you opened your mouth to start talking, but thankfully, you heard the sound of the front door opening and let out a relieved sigh.

“San’s back. I’ll talk to you later.” You quickly told Harper, getting ready to hang up the call.

“Okay, okay, but I want the deets later!” She said hurriedly before you ended the call just as San rounded the corner.

Seeing him made you shift in your seat a little, and when he flashed you his signature dimpled smile, you were sure you would melt in the very chair you sat in.

“Morning, beautiful.” He walked over, pressing a light kiss on your cheek before making his way into the kitchen, your eyes never leaving his form. “I have another class but needed to grab a snack," he told you as he walked back into the room.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, knowing that he had plenty of snack options on campus and only came back to see you. Chuckling at your reaction, he made his way to the door once more.

“I’ll see you tonight, princess," he told you as you walked out of the dining room to watch him slip his shoes back on. "Maybe we can watch a movie?” He suggested, and you nodded softly, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Sure,” You smiled at him as you walked over, and he grabbed his school bag from the coat rack.

Turning, he grabbed your waist, pulled you flush against him, and kissed you deeply, “or maybe we can make our own.” He teased, his feline-like eyes narrowing as he watched red dust your cheeks, and you slapped his shoulder.

“Weirdo, go to class.” You pouted, trying to hide your embarrassment, but more so how much his words turned you on.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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hoshifighting · 1 day ago

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can u do svt reaction with no nut november😋 love ur writing!!!!

seungcheol: he starts off strong, “this is easy, i’m basically a monk.” but makes it to day three, tops, before he’s in your DMs, like, “okay, you win, come over.” literally holding his head in his hands before fisting his hard cock.

jeonghan: jeonghan only joins no nut november to annoy you, trying to show off his self-control. “oh, it’s nothing. i can do this easily.” but when you start teasing him day after day, sending him nudes and flirty messages, he’s practically boiling. but he holds out until the end of the month, when December 1st 00h comes, this man is slutting you out.

joshua: tells you he’s “doing great” and that the challenge is “actually easy.” but secretly, he’s sneaking off every day, trying to relieve himself without you finding out. when you catch him, all flushed and a mess, and he’s stuttering like, “uh, i… didn’t know you’d see that.”

junhui: bro is all talk, boasting that he can last the whole month, but he’s the first one to start slipping. he tries to distract himself by going out, playing games, whatever he can, blows his cover, blow his load, by day five.

hoshi: this poor dude loses on day one. you know it, and he knows it. he tries to act tough, but if you cross from the bathroom to the bedroom only in a towel, he’s done for. he sulks the rest of the day, throwing a mini tantrum after fucking you and losing it, and when you tease him about it, he’s all pouty. “you did this to me!”

wonwoo: he thinks he can outsmart everyone, claiming he’s going to meditate his way through november. when you sleep with him in your babydoll or tiny shorts, he’s all softening up, biting his lip and fighting his instincts. he tries to be stoic, he’s grumbling under his breath, and it’s hilarious to watch. “this is unfair. can you at least stop wearing those?”

woozi: he’s stressed from the get-go. the man is rolling his eyes at everyone, snapping at the members over the tiniest things, all because he’s with a throbbing erection in his pants. you’re just fanning the flames, sending him ALL the nudes you can, and he’s getting more and more drained. “why are you like this?” he hisses, but he secretly loves the attention. by week two, he’s a complete mess, desperately trying to hide it, but he’s too transparent. every time you catch him zoning out, you know exactly where his mind is.

minghao: iron will. he goes through the whole month with a straight face, the second december hits, he’s on you. he’s using every spare second to make up for lost ground. by week’s end, he’s practically cock-sore from going at it so much, and you’re laughing, asking him if all that was worth it.

mingyu: he’s so sure he can trick his way through it, asking you to dry hump him because, technically, it’s not breaking the rules, right? but the second you start grinding down, he keeps trying to pull you off before he cums, soon, he’s begging you to stop, whispering about how he can’t take it anymore, so.. just another way losing the NNN.

seokmin: determined to stick to the rules, but struggling hard. he’ll pull you in for heated makeouts, his hands squeezing and holding you tight as he tries to discount on something. flushed and breathing hard, whispering apologies for pulling away clearly fighting himself every step of the way. he’s convinced he can make it to the end “it’s fine, i got this,” he’d insist, though his grip on you says contrary.

seungkwan: “oh my god, don’t come near me!” gets whiny about how hard he is. he’ll throw little tantrums, pouting and going on about how it’s torture whenever you tease him. by the end of the month, he’s practically begging, dropping hints that he’d break if you just said the word, making it clear he’s only “doing this for you” while clearly waiting for the green light to give in.

vernon: he's “nah, i’m good” from the start. “you’re trying too hard.” but little by little, he catches himself glancing your way, biting his lip, feeling the itch just a bit more every time you walk by. he won’t admit it, but by week four, he’s giving you these longing looks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

chan: determined, but let’s be real, he’s also a bit naive about how tough it’ll be. if you teasw him, he’s practically falling apart every time you’re around. by the middle of the month, he’s so worked up he’s stammering just being near you, you catch him blushing like crazy when you touch him, and by the end of it, he’s practically begging you to let him break the rules.

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m-neuvillette · 1 day ago

Text

Star Rail Men - letting go of their hand prank

Characters: Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Luka, Moze, Mr Reca, Sunday, Welt Yang, Yanqing

Notes: fem reader, implied to be shorter than him

Authors note: anddddd we’re back!! This one really made us giggle when writing it. Hope you all enjoy it. Feel free to like, comment, and follow :)

Argenti

Doesn’t stop him, he just wraps an arm around your waist and keeps walking. And you just keep walking shocked but happy because you’re even closer to him which makes you smile. He looks at you with an even bigger smile and goes to claim that this way of walking together is “even more beautiful than holding hands.”

Aventurine

Raises his eyebrow and asks “did you get tired of me already? Guess the tab will be on you this time then?” Your jaw drops and you look at him like “do you think I have that kind of money??” And then he chuckles and says “looks like you’re stuck with me then, so try not to let go again, alright?” Let’s just say you never let go of his hand first from then on.

Blade

Not even a millisecond after you let go he is giving you the biggest death glare ever. He would say “just what do you think you’re doing?” He would also just keep glaring at you until you give him a satisfactory response to his question, and let’s just say he is not amused when you say it’s a prank. From that point on you made sure never to prank him again because that was a scary experience.

Boothill

Teases you beyond belief. Once you let go he just looks at you and asks “whatcha doin’ darling?” While you shrug and walk a little ahead of him while he laughs and jogs a little to catch up with you but suddenly your world turns upside down because he threw you over his shoulder. You realize what he did and say “Boothill put me down, I’m wearing a skirt!” And he just laughs and shakes his head “well you didn’t wanna hold my hand, so this is the next option. Plus don’t worry I won’t let anyone see what’s mine” and puts a hand protectively over the back of your thighs.

Caelus

Stops everything and looks at you like you just murdered his entire family. Because why would you let go of his hand?? He would look at you and say “I’ll just have to tape our hands together so you don’t get lost, like always”. Because after all he is THE Galatic Baseballer, you can’t just let go of his hand. You narrowed you eyes at him and say “aren’t you the one who always gets lost?!” He looks away and says “well we’ll get lost together then” then grabs your hand and starts walking again.

Dan Heng

You two are walking around Paperfold University so he can see what classes he wants to sit in on to add more to his data bank. Once you let go he’s curious to see if you found something interesting to go look at but once you tell him it’s a prank expect his side eye. He will give you a side eye then shake his head asking “really?” Then continues his walk forward once you realize he is leaving you, you run after him and give him a big hug around his back apologizing. He turns his head to softly smile at you and grabs your hand to continue.

Dr Ratio

He literally does not care at all and just continues on with whatever you two were doing. You just stare at him for a solid couple minutes and he asks “what’s with the glare?” And you say how you were trying to prank him by letting go of his hand to see his reaction. He looks at you with a look of disgust saying “that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard of.” Then again proceeds to carry on with whatever he was doing. But out of the corner of his eye he sees you upset and leaving, he reaches out to grab your arm and pulls you into him while he continues his work.

Gallagher

You guys are walking around after his shift wondering if you guys should go to the bar so he could make some drinks. Once you guys decide to go to the bar on your walk there you guys are stopped by one of the hounds asking him a question. The conversation ends up taking much longer than you two expected, so you let go of his hand to go to the bar and let Siobhan know he wants to make some drinks. But before you even turn around to walk away Gallagher reaches and grabs your hand again telling the hound he’ll figure it out tomorrow because right now he’s gotta spend time with his girl.

Gepard

Doesn’t realize because he’s so busy looking around making sure everything is safe and okay. Yeah it’s his day off but he is still so focused on his job. So once you let you of his hand and he keeps walking you stand in place for a couple seconds before calling his name. Then he whips his head around to see you’re not by him now and jogs back to you asking what’s wrong. You explain to him that it was a prank but he should relax and enjoy the time you two have together. He nods and grabs your hand right away but still is occasionally looking around. You can’t won’t ever fight but at least you are holding hands again.

Jiaoqiu

His is not a prank because I feel so bad for him being blind. But he is confused when you let go. You’re holding his hand to help guide him around the market to get some things for a party you guys are hosting, but you just let go?? So he thinks you found something but still tries to reach out and find you. When he can’t reach out and grab you, he calls out your name to try and get your attention. Once you realize what you did you apologize to him an infinite amount of times. After this happened you never let go of his hand unless you tell him, you also still apologize to this day.

Jing Yuan

Plays along and essentially pranks you. He just keeps walking like nothing happened and it shocks you, like did he not care??? So you try to hold his hand again and he doesn’t let you and says “thought you didn’t want to hold my hand?” While you stand there baffled but then get sad because you realize he won’t hold your hand again because he’s joking around. But he sees you get sad and then goes back to holding your hand and has a tight grip on it.

Luka

As soon as you let go of his hand he’s whipping his head around and looking at you incredulously. He immediately faces you and grabs both of your hands in a death grip. He then starts walking backwards with his eyes glued to your guys’ interlocked hands and you ask “Luka what the heck are you doing??” He responds with “I’m making sure you don’t let go again, and if that means walking backwards then I’ll do it for the rest of our lives”. You immediately soften at his response and vow to never let go of his hand again (that may or may not be because he fell backwards right after he said that).

Moze

Knows what you’re doing before you even try it, he just says “don’t” while still looking ahead while walking. Don’t even try to act like you weren’t going to do anything because he will call you out on that too. He basically knows your every movement and idea before you do. So you relent and continue on with your walk. But he kind of feels bad ruining your fun so he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand while dragging you to a sweets stand to get a treat.

Mr Reca

Gives you a little side eye and says “Oh, what’s this? Going off script are we?” He then grabs your hand again and continues to follow his script as always while telling you to “make sure you stay to the script, please and thank you”.

Sunday

IS STRESSED OUT. Asking so many questions “are you okay?” “Did you see something? “Are you mad at me?” Please apologize to him, he’s been through enough. Once you explain and apologize to him he goes in for a big hug no matter where you guys are, once you both let go of the hug you guys continue walking hand in hand while he brings your knuckle up to his lips to give it a little kiss.

Welt Yang

He honestly is old school and just honestly thinks you don’t want to hold hands anymore. But once he realizes you’re silent after that happens he asks what is wrong and you begin to tell him it’s a prank, and he kinda just stares at you and asks “is that what young people consider a prank now?” You end up just laughing and shaking your head but he is genuinely serious about his question and wants to know the answer.

Yanqing

His first thought when you let go would be that you got kidnapped. He would whip his head around like a maniac looking for you. He would then see you giggling behind him and let out a sigh of relief before interrogating you and saying “why did you let go? I thought you got taken. Please never do that again”. You instantly felt bad and then made sure to never let go of his hand ever again. Jing Yuan did make sure to tease you guys about always holding hands though.

#argenti x reader #aventurine x reader #blade x reader #boothill x reader #caelus x reader #dan heng x reader #dr ratio x reader #gepard x reader #gallagher x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #luka x reader #moze x reader #mr reca x reader #sunday x reader #welt yang x reader #yanqing x reader #star rail x reader

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skyrigel · 1 day ago

Text

“Does that feel good…huh ?”

Simon pulled you back by your neck, his breath piping down your spine in blazing hot rings. “I bet it does.” He growled maniacally, chuckling as you whimpered against his chokehold.

He pulled out his cock just until it breached against your used wasted hole before slamming back in all over, arching your back further as your orgasm came in waves — there was no point holding back as your thighs shaked, still the constant pouncing didn't stop, the back of your thigh met his hips in every jiff, while hot cum leaked down and coaxed his big cock and he groaned at the heat of your pussy, me, only letting him rattle your insides while your toes curled from overstimulation.

“Did Daddy say you could cum, huh ?” Simon didn't wait for an answer, and as came his hand pinching hard on your bud, and after were two consecutive hard spanks that stirred another heated arousal, “ya’ being bratty today, is that what'll do ?”

Your vision blurred, tears brimmed and fell down and you shaked your head, it felt good to be pounded down after moaning and writhing over dildos that were nothing compared to your man's veiny cock, but even so you lost count how many times you came and how many times Simon punished you by going harder once again.

“C’mon you promised to be daddy's good girl, no ?” He leaned down over you, enveloping your bare back with his hot body, his heat pulsing like a drum through you and not to mention the bulge that twitched as you moaned like a whore against his arm.

All your thoughts were mussy except how good his big dick felt inside you, how obsence it must look — on your fours getting pounded from behind like cock slut, being forced to take it after third or maybe fourth orgasm.

“Daddy didn't say you could cum whore ?”

Simon kneaded your tits that jangled with every thrust, and you couldn't take it anymore, feeling your nerves numb in your body as you thought to utter your safeword with no success, finally remembering to shake your head as Simon always told you.

Simon couldn't understand until thrusting three more times then he pulled himself out, his hold of your throat came undone as you trembled all over against the emptiness of your pussy when he pulled out with wet pop, swollen and hard.

“Lovie.” He cooed, all the hardness left somewhere as his soft voice hummed — you fell face down on the pillow, tears soaking against it. “Hey, hey…love ?”

Simon's deft finger pushed away your hair that sticked up through sweat and tears, his eyes were sweet and loving.

“Did I hurt you ? Tell—”

“No.” You croaked, feeling your thigh numb all over, his weight shifted beside you until you scrambled over and laid your head on his chest, his heart beating melodiously enough to lull you in some heavenly sleep.

“I was too hard on my princess, wasn't I ?”

You looked up, knowing how heavy your eyes were and no doubt your lips were swollen from the intense make out session earlier, and cum drying over like frost on dew.

He loved you like this, all fucked up, all marked up — just for him, only by him.

Simon smiled shyly, then leaned to kiss your forehead — “I should get us a bath—”

You didn't want him to go anywhere, “Stay ere’ with me.”

“Mmm.” Simon pulled you closer to his chest, wrapping his safe arms around you while you relished in the sillage of sex and euphoria of it all, finally breathing Simon's sharp cologne.

“Would you like water baby, huh ?” But you didn't, you only wanted Simon to cradle you in his arms and sway you gently.

“Alright lovie, sleep.” He whispered, carding through your hair and soothing your scalp, knowing he'd pulled too hard, just how his nasty girl liked, “I love you.”

“Love ya too.” You inhaled, feeling so good.

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cllightning81 · 2 days ago

Text

Red Bull? Really?

Summary : You're dating the three time world champion that's in a championship battle with your twin brother. However, you haven't told him about the relationship

Pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Norris!Reader

Word Count :

Masterlist Max Verstappen Masterlist Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

You and Lando always had a good relationship. You didn’t have any twin telepathy, but that didn’t mean that neither of you couldn’t tell what was going on with the other. That was why Lando now knew that you were hiding something from him just by your body language.

You were in a serious relationship with his on track rival where the rivalry was just heating up second by second. How could you come clean about that? It was bound to break your relationship with Lando and Lando’s relationship with Max.

While all the commentators assumed the races would be what broke their relationship off track, it was about to be you. You had spoken to Max before the summer holidays and decided that before you left to go on holiday with him, you’d confess to Lando.

Your original idea was just to text Lando from another room in his house while he was streaming so that his reaction couldn’t be too extreme but Max told you not to do that and that he was your brother. He wasn’t going to be too extreme.

How wrong Max was about to be. Another debate you’d win.

Lando had just finished streaming and was now coming downstairs to get some food that you’d cooked – in hopes to butter him up – you smiled over at him as you answered a text from Max F about a project you had coming up together.

“So” Lando said, sitting down on the couch opposite you. You could feel your heart rate starting to rise knowing that you actually had to tell him now. Having previously told him, you needed to talk.

“You can’t lash out” You started, and he raised his eyes. You really wish you had done it your way and just locked yourself in the bathroom so he couldn’t get near you.

“That’s not a good start Y/N” You bit your lip, looking over at him briefly

“So I’m dating someone” You whispered as Lando sat forward a little with a smirk crossing his face

“Do I know them?” He asked, and you nodded slightly as he raised his eyebrows, getting a little more suspicious now.

“Look, it was never my intention to hurt you. When we first started seeing each other, it was before anything ever happened. You’ll always be my brother before anything else. Please don’t do anything harsh” You rambled, stopping due to the knock on the door. You quickly took it as your chance to leave the conversation, hoping that Lando and yourself could forget about it.

Except when you answered the door, your problem was, stood at the other side of the door. You let out a long breath, letting him into the house.

“Max! I was just about to find out who Y/N is dating. You can join me” Lando hummed as you closed the door, taking a deep breath. You could see the smirk crossing Max’s face

“Erm yeah Lan I think I’ll finish this conversation when we’re alone” You wandered off to your bedroom despite Lando’s complaints.

You hadn’t brought up the conversation again to Lando and had quickly avoided any conversation he brought up.

That was until you were, stood in your own house, Max was, sat on your couch scrolling through the TV, trying to find something for you both to watch.

“Kindje” (Baby) Max called as you poked your head through from the kitchen with a smile

“Yeah?” You asked, walking over to him standing between his legs.

“Movie or TV show?” He asked, looking up at you as his arms wrapped around your waist

“Let’s go TV show. Movies are long and boring” You answered, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, and he nodded, pressing a kiss back to your lips. Pulling you on top of his body so that you were straddling his lap. Your head resting in the crook of his neck breathing in his scent as one of his hands rubbed circles on your back

“Still avoiding the conversation with Lando?” He asked, and you nodded

“You and him keep getting your elbows out on track. I think that would make it worse” You sighed. It would make it worse. Lando and Max were violent on track enough as it was. You couldn’t imagine Lando’s violence if he found out about you and Max.

“How about we abandon the TV show, go to bed, and just cuddle?” He suggested, and you nodded.

“That sounds like a plan,” you hummed. Max stood up within one move, one of his hands hooked under you to carry you to the bedroom. Normally, you stayed at Max’s house however, Max decided to come over to your house tonight to surprise you.

Max settled you on the bed before getting settled in next to you. Your body curling into his as he wrapped his arms around you. The silence was nice. Max’s hand under his shirt that you were now wearing drawing, comforting shapes on your back.

You were both getting comfortable and about to fall asleep when there was a loud bang followed by someone shouting your name however, it didn’t compute who it was.

“Y/N. Where are you?” Lando shouted, and that’s when it hit. Lando. You and Max both quickly jumped up as you glanced at Max, shutting the bedroom door as you walked to the living room to avoid Lando walking into the bedroom.

“Lando it’s late” You complained, and he just shrugged.

“And? I’ve got exciting news” He shrugged as your rolled your eyes. Lando’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at you from his spot on the couch.

“What? Is that a red bull shirt?” He asked loudly as you glanced down at the top you were wearing. Shit. Fuck Max for not owning any other shirts.

“I erm. I borrowed it from Checo and just never gave it back when I spilt coffee down myself that one time” You lied. It was a really obvious lie. The massive 33 on the top gave that away. Lando started to take a couple steps away from you, falling over the couch as he did. You couldn’t help but laugh a little after all he was your brother. Lando glared at you

“Look Lando. I’ve been trying to tell you. I just didn’t know how. Please don’t be mad” You whispered

“How long?” He asked quietly

“About five months” You whispered, looking down as he continued walking towards the door, not saying anything loudly, just shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Lando please” you looked over, and he quickly opened the door and left slamming the door behind himself.

You sat on the couch, dropping your head into your hands as a pair of hands wrapped around your body. The tears slowly falling down your face as Max’s hand rubbed your arm softly, pulling your body into his

“It’s okay kindje” He whispered, holding you close despite you trying to push him away “Hey don’t fight me. I’m not going anywhere no matter how much you fight me” You were too distressed to understand what Max was saying.

You’d hurt your brother. That’s the worst feeling that you’d ever felt in your life. What hurt more is the fact he didn’t even say a word to you. You never expected him to be happy about it, but you expected him to maybe say something to you.

You didn’t want Max’s comfort. You felt like you didn’t deserve Max’s comfort, not after the harm you just caused your brother. You deserved to feel the harm as well. Siblings never mind twins were meant to harm each other.

A couple weeks later, at the next Grand Prix, Lando still wasn’t talking to you. You’d phoned him a couple times a day, texted him multiple times a day, and even attempted to show up at his house. Max stepped in after a week also trying to speak to Lando. You’d even went through your family to try and speak to Lando, but he wasn’t having it.

Now Max had convinced you to come to the Grand Prix just so that you wouldn’t be in the house moping as he had said. And well, in all honesty, his cats were little devils, and they could manage a week or two with a cat sitter.

Max’s hand rested on the small of your back as he spoke to the driver thanking them for driving you to the hotel. As you were about to walk in Max spotted a guy standing just off the side to all the team members and other people turning to you with a sly smile before his hand dropped and he walked over to the guy. Who clearly backed out of just asking Max to sign something, but you liked how even though he was prepared, he still respected the privacy.

Max soon walked back over his hand, going back to resting on the small of your back as you smiled up at him

“Ready kindje?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile

“Think so” You hummed, walking into the hotel with him and up to the room he had been assigned. You were hoping that Lando was going to be here, but deep down, you knew that they had their own hotel sponsor and would probably be staying there, but one could wish.

Max had also been invited to an event with sponsors, and after a lot of convincing, you decided to go with him. It was better than being stuck in a hotel room alone and there was free food which did work out as a bonus because those savings don’t last long when you refuse to let your boyfriend pay for your things wanting to be independent.

Now, getting ready in the hotel room for the event, deciding on just a simple dress that matched Max’s suit. Your hair, in the simplest style you could do and make up just simple as well. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to put effort in and more that you just didn’t have any effort.

Trying to get Lando to talk to you had taken up most of your energy and effort. There was nothing else for you to give, and you needed a break to reset that. Max walked up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist with a smile

“You look beautiful” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your neck. You turned around in his arms, wrapping your own arms around his neck

“And you look very handsome” You smiled, looking up at him.

“Are you almost ready to go? The car is downstairs waiting” He smiled, and you nodded

“I just need some help putting this necklace on, then I’m all finished” You smiled, holding up the necklace that you were planning on wearing. Lando had bought you it when you both turned 21. It was a matching one with one of his bracelets.

Max carefully took the necklace out of your hands, and you lifted your hair up. Gently resting the necklace upon your chest before tying the clasp at the back of your neck. You smiled at Max through the mirror, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

You were still in pain, but you couldn’t deny that Max was making that pain go away day by day.

A short drive later, you and Max were not at the large ballroom for the event. Filled with sponsors for all ten teams, drivers from all ten teams, along with team principles and other important members of the teams.

You weren’t even looking for Lando knowing that he’d just ignore you. Instead, you found yourself talking to his teammate and his girlfriend. You and Lily had always gotten along from the second Oscar joined the team, having many things in common.

“How was your summer break?” You asked Oscar, knowing his plan was to go back to England however you hadn’t seen him since

“It was nice. Typical British weather, but you know. Couldn’t have asked for a better time” He smiled, turning to look at Lily, who could only smile at her boyfriend “How was yours?” He asked, and you took a deep breath

“It could have been a lot better” You replied

You had thought Max was away talking to Cristian and Checo until there was a large hand settling on the small of your back. When you turned your head, Max was smiling down at you

“You couldn’t have saved me?” He asked, and you shook your head slightly

“No, unfortunately, I couldn’t have. I thought you were with Checo and Horner” You shrugged, and he shook his head.

“No. I got dragged into a conversation with the Pirelli guy and some other sponsor” He replied, and you giggled. Leaning back into his warm touch. Max finally looked up to see who you were talking with “Oh hey Oscar” He smiled, and Oscar only nodded his mouth slightly ajar. Lily had a sly smirk on her face that only you picked up on.

“Are we still on for padel?” Oscar finally asked, allowing the boys to get into their own conversation so Lily could drag you away to the bar.

“Oh my god! What’s that?” She exclaimed, and you bit your lip

“The reason Lando’s being such an ass to me” You replied before ordering a drink for both you and Max

“Ah so that’s what his mood is all about” Lily nodded, understandingly as you nodded turning to look at her. She still had that smirk on her face “So” She dragged out as you raised your eyebrows at her

“So what?” You asked

“So what’s he actually like behind closed doors?” She asked as you leaned your back against the bar with a small smile

“Lils he’s perfect. Like honestly so perfect” You sighed, looking over to him. It didn’t help that he currently looked very good. Although he always did, that suit was just doing something for him.

“Wanna share more?” She asked, and you hummed tapping your nose

“Nope that’s all the information I shall share” You smiled, picking up your drinks before walking back over to Max and Oscar. You spotted Lando talking with a sponsor as you handed Max his gin and tonic. His arm wrapped around you as you leaned into him with a slight smile.

“Enjoying yourself?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you

“Better than your cats” You shrugged, and he faked offence, holding his chest as you giggled

“They’re menices!” You exclaimed, and he shrugged a little

“Yeah, I guess that’s true” He smiled, leading you back to the table you were due to be sat at. Pulling out your chair allows you to sit down before sitting down. You turned your head to look at Max as you placed your drink on the table

“Is he still ignoring you?” He asked, and you nodded slightly, looking over to where Lando was now sitting “Shit. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that” He sighed, resting his hand over yours as you shrugged a little

“It’s fine. I just wish he’d get over it even just to say hello. He’s still my brother” You sighed, looking up to thank the waitress as she brought over the food for the table you were sitting at.

Back at the hotel room the alcohol in your system had made you forget about the whole situation with Lando and Max had taken your phone so that you wouldn’t answer any of Lando’s texts now that the alcohol had made him realise what was going on.

Max had helped you get ready for bed before getting in next to you. Your head rested on his chest as he wrapped one arm around you, the other resting on your waist as he drew shapes on it.

“It doesn’t matter what Lando thinks as long as you're happy. Please never forget that Schat (darling)” He explained. You nodded along with his words

“I’d be happier if Lando had anything nice to say” You looked up at him from his chest as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your own

“He’s been texting you but I think you should look at them when you’re a little more sober as much as I know you’d sleep better reading them but I’d rather you have a clear mind reading them” He explained as you looked up at him pulling away from his lips

“Have you read them?” You asked, and he nodded

“I did. I figured reading them before you would help me comfort you if needed” He explained

“You don’t need to explain love. I just wanted to know” You replied, pressing your lips against his. Moving so that you were laying between his legs, your head still on his chest as both his arms wrapped around you, sliding under your shirt, allowing him to draw shapes on your bare back.

No matter what, Lando ended up saying you were more than happy being wrapped in Max’s arms. Maybe it’s time for Lando to feel what you had felt.

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