#cancelling appearances because hes tired

[resilient-radical]

CNN, what the fuck is this? What insane levels of internalized misogyny and racism she must have. How can you support a man who has said horrible things about Hispanic people (which is further exacerbated by his treatment of immigrats in ICE camps)? How can you say that the man who has secually assaulted dozens of women will lead to a better future? And this article dug no deeper than this. No "What policies of his do you think will do that?" or "So, you think a future with more abortion bans and higher maternity death rates is preferable to Harris winning?"

Women, your politicians must understand you AND respect you. Don't vote for the man who is a convincted felon, who owes a woman he raped $86 million dollars, who thinks he deserves to grab women "by the pussy," who attacked the public during the BLM marches when people were saying enough to the police violence, who is endorsed by the KKK and dictators around the world. Do not vote for the man who gave corporations and billionaires tax cuts and greater leverage while leaving the working class left to pay the difference. He doesnt care about increasing minimum wage or access to abortion. He doesnt care about freedom or democracy, he cares about power. No matter the cost. We Americans will be the cost. It is our happiness, our health, and our freedom that will suffer if we do not stop it now. If you can vote and have not yet, please vote for Kamala Harris.

[naivety]

very weird to frame your abuse apologia as being aware that the writers intended to illustrate a mutually harmful dynamic and not an abusive one. when the writers in question also wrote the line 'once you put it out there, they [the audience] decide what it is' because nothing you ever create has any innate definition. when the writers in question decided to racebend major characters and then showcase them being harmed by white or nonblack characters in a repeatedly racialized pattern when they Did Not Have To Do That and then genuinely or disingenuously decide to dialogue about their directly or indirectly illustrated racialized dynamic of intimate partner violence within and outside the narrative. like to be quite honest it does not matter what they intended because this is what they made and this is how it Looks to a notably large amount of people. who just happen to be interpreting it wrong? according to what metric? the very metric they say Doesn't Work in their own fictional creation? ok

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

[likeumeanit9497]

watch | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: after hearing you confess all of your insecurities to him, matt makes it his mission to have you see yourself the way that he sees you.

warnings: established relationship smut; fluff; mentions of body insecurities; hint of disordered eating; fingering (f receiving); dirty talk; choking; 18+

notes: i dreamt up this smut last night and immediately got to writing because it felt a little too real. i also knew it was gonna be a shorter one shot (compared to all of my others) so decided to try out second person narration rather than first person. i still can't decide which is better, so pls let me know which u all prefer to read. i hope ya'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed dreaming ab it ;)))

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

With Mac Miller playing softly from Matt’s tv, you sighed to yourself as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. You took a moment to inspect your appearance in the full length mirror that you had been getting ready in front of, and felt like you didn’t recognize the girl in the reflection. For some reason, you were having a bad everything day. You had started getting ready by doing your hair, and it just wouldn’t fall right once you had finished styling it. Moving on to makeup, you had struggled with making your eyeliner match and all of your base makeup looked splotchy; it was like nothing was sitting the way it should on your skin.

Filled with frustration, you were tempted to tell Matt to cancel the dinner reservation, scrub everything off your face, and tuck yourself in his bed for the rest of the night. But you wouldn’t do that, because he had been so excited about planning your date night all by himself.

You and Matt had been dating for a few months, and had built a relationship filled with the perfect combination of comfort and excitement. Even though you both lived apart, there was rarely a day when you and him were not doing something together — whether that be just laying in his bed watching movies all day, or going on a random adventure in the middle of nowhere. You could never grow tired of being around him, but for some reason your insecurities in your appearance were so severe today that you almost felt like you wanted to hide yourself from him.

As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your creasing concealer under your eyes, Matt walked into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You look pretty,” He started, heading towards his closet to pick out an outfit. “You about ready?” You watched him through the mirror as he put on a pair of boxers, feeling a lump form in your throat at how undeniably beautiful he looked. You were hit with the realization that his looks so clearly outshined your own, and hated the idea of other people recognizing that whenever you two went out together.

Trying to get the negative thoughts out of your mind so that he wouldn’t have reason to worry, you cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah I am. I just have to get dressed.” After buttoning his jeans, he looked at you through the mirror and smiled warmly. “Everything okay baby?” He must have noticed the tension in your brow, or the slight downturn of your lips, but you nodded reassuringly. “Yeah of course, I’m just not really feeling my makeup.” You added a chuckle to the end of your sentence, hoping to make him believe that it was just a light hearted confession. He walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I think it looks perfect.” He said softly into your hair, and you forced a smile onto your lips.

You walked over to the clothing rack that Matt had put in his room for you so that you could leave a variety of your clothes at his place for when you stayed over. Scanning your options, you skipped over all of your more bold pieces — knowing your head space was far too vulnerable tonight to mess around with any of them — and decided on your favourite black Skims dress. It had never failed you in the past, and you tried to reassure yourself with this fact as you removed your oversized t-shirt and replaced it with the soft dress.

Your positive attitude was gone just as quickly as it arrived once you began to examine yourself in the mirror. From the front your body looked okay, but as soon as you turned to the side you grimaced at the sight of your bloated stomach from the massive deli sandwich Matt had bought you for lunch earlier. The thin, tight material of the dress did nothing but accentuate the swell in your lower stomach, and you wanted to scream out in frustration. Maybe if your hair and makeup had worked in your favour the bloating wouldn’t have bothered you so much, but because everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong, it was enough to cause tears to well in your eyes.

As you stood in front of the mirror fighting the tears from spilling over, Matt noticed the sheen in your eyes and your wobbly chin and raced over to you. “Hey hey hey! What’s wrong baby?” He asked, his voice laced with a hint of panic. You shook your head rapidly. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m just being stupid.” Your voice was thick with emotion, and it made you even more angry with yourself as you knew this whole thing was stupid. “It’s clearly not nothing if you’re crying, Y/n.” He turned you around so that you were face to face with him; concern evident in his furrowed brow and racing eyes. “Tell me what’s going on sweetheart.” His voice was soft, and he rubbed his hands along your bare arms reassuringly.

You sighed and brought a shaky hand to your eye; trying to dab away any fallen tears in a weak attempt to not ruin your shitty makeup. “It’s stupid Matt.” You wined, not wanting to tell him your insecurities out of fear that speaking of them might make him suddenly see them just as clearly as you did. “Y/n, please.” He begged, desperate to try and help you. Groaning, you finally obliged; your voice barely above a whisper as you confessed. “I just hate everything about the way I look today, that’s all.” Matt stared at you with a blank expression as he took in your words, and you waited in silence — nervous to hear his response.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Y/n.” He sounded almost angry in his response, and it caused you to bite your lip nervously as you shrugged. “Nothing turned out the way I wanted it to when I got ready today, plus you’ve been feeding me too much lately and it’s been making me bloated.” You explained further, and watched as his eyes travelled from your face down to your body. “Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “You have to say that, it’s one of the unwritten rules of being someone’s boyfriend.” A dry laugh escaped your lips, and Matt moved his hand to the back of your head.

“You think I’m lying?” He asked, his tone of voice mildly threatening and absolutely serious. So serious in fact, that the weak smile left your lips and you could do nothing but stare blankly at his face; unsure of how you should answer. He tilted his head quizzically, clearly still waiting for a response. Tentatively, you nodded your head yes as a singular tear fell down your cheek. Matt’s eyes softened. “Oh baby.” He breathed before pressing his lips softly against yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he began deepening the kiss — turning it into one filled with passion without losing its gentle nature. Delicately, his tongue skated across your lips; requesting access to your mouth without demanding it. You released a soft whimper from his tender movements as his hands travelled down to your ass; massaging it gently through the thin material of your dress.

“Turn around.” He ordered against your mouth, and you immediately obliged. Now facing the mirror, he stood behind you with his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. Into your ear, he spoke. “You are the most beautiful person that I have ever laid my eyes on, and I need you to know that.” His words — overflowing with emotion — caused goosebumps to cover your skin. Using both of his hands, he grabbed each thin strap of your dress and slowly peeled them off your shoulders. Not stopping there, he used his grip on the straps to pull the dress completely off your body — creating a puddle of dark material at your feet.

“Look at you, Y/n.” His hands moved across your upper body; exploring every square inch of your skin as he held you in front of the mirror. You shuddered from his touch; his hands lighting your body on fire as they glided across it. He grabbed your breasts in both hands, massaging them slowly as he planted a kiss to the top of your shoulder. “You might see flaws when you look at yourself in the mirror, but I don’t. And I never have.” His hands moved down to your hips, squeezing them slightly. “I think I just have to show you what I see, and then maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Dropping one more kiss to your flushed skin, he walked you forward a few steps towards the mirror, before using his hands to guide you to the floor. Knees tucked into your chest, he sat behind you and pulled all of your hair over to one side before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “Open your legs baby.” You gulped before obliging, sliding your legs apart but keeping your knees bent. Your bare chest rose and fell rapidly, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. You titled your head to the side out of embarrassment of having your legs spread in front of the mirror — with only your small pink thong covering you. Noticing this, Matt brought a hand to your jaw, grabbing it firmly and straightening your head back in the direction of the mirror. “You are breathtaking, Y/n. I don’t want you to look away.” As he spoke, he moved his hand from your jaw down to your breast, holding it firmly as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nipple. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” He whispered before taking his free hand and sliding your panties to the side.

Your eyes planted firmly on your glistening core as he used two fingers to spread it open. You watched as your arousal began leaking from your slit, and your jaw dropped in ecstasy as he collected the fluid on his fingers. His eyes connected to yours in the mirror as he brought his wet fingers up to your lips. Confused, you furrowed your brow. “Even your insides are beautiful. Taste yourself.” He urged, and his words stirred up something within you. Slowly, you opened your mouth and immediately felt his fingers press against your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his middle and ring fingers; sucking your own sweet juices off of them and moaning at the heat of the scenario as his eyes burned into yours through the reflection in the mirror.

“Good girl.” He praised once you released his fingers, before moving them back down to your throbbing core. As soon as his fingers connected with your clit, you released a breathy moan and screwed your eyes shut in relief. “Open your eyes sweetheart, and look at how fucking beautiful you look.” He demanded sweetly into your ear, making it impossible for you to even consider disobeying him. Through your droopy eyelids you watched, mouth agape, as his ringed fingers massaged your bundle of nerves; their circular motions hypnotizing you. You also took a moment to admire your body as it writhed in anticipatory pleasure — your sweat-coated breasts heaving as you gasped for breath. Matt rested his chin on your shoulder — his left hand still caressing your tits — as he watched in awe at your various expressions of pleasure.

“Look at your pretty pink pussy, baby. And look how unbelievably beautiful you look when you bite your lip. God, I could cum in my pants just from watching you feel good.” His words were equal parts sweet and filthy in your ears, and they added to the pleasure you felt building up within you. Suddenly, his left hand moved from your tits down your stomach and towards your core. You watched in awe as he swirled two fingers around your opening teasingly, and practically screamed out once he slammed them into you. Wasting no time, his curled fingers pumped in and out of you rapidly, hitting your spongey g-spot each time.

“F-fuck Matty, feels so good.” You managed to get out through breathless moans. “Mmm.” He purred, “Looks so good too, doesn’t it? Your pretty juices like honey dripping from my fingers. Tell me how pretty it looks.” You whined before obliging. “I-it’s so pretty.” You watched his reflection as he shook his head and smirked. “Good baby, but it’s not just your juices. It’s you that’s so pretty. Say it.” As he waited for your response, he nipped delicately at your neck. “I-I’m s-so pretty.” Your voice was shaky as your mind was overtaken by your impending orgasm that was very quickly approaching. You felt Matt’s lips turn up in a smile against your neck. “That’s right. And just wait till you cum princess, there’s nothing more beautiful than that.” His words caused your walls to flex around his pumping fingers and your stomach tensed from the familiar feeling.

“G-gonna cum baby.” You cried out, tucking your chin into your shoulder and arching your back off of his chest as your orgasm began to roll through your body. Suddenly, Matt pulled his fingers out of your core and grabbed onto your throat, gently straightening your head up once again. “Watch yourself cum, Y/n.” He rasped into your ear and you watched through blurred vision as your fucked out face contorted into one filled with pleasure as your orgasm tore through your body. Still rubbing your clit at full tilt, Matt filled the space between you both with muttered praises; his eyes firmly planted to your face as he almost fell apart himself from the view in front of him.

Once you came down from your high, Matt wrapped both of his arms tightly around you; leaving small kisses on your skin as he waited for you to catch your breath. “I don’t ever want you to have negative thoughts about yourself like that ever again.” He stated as he rubbed your soft skin gently. Still waiting for the fog around your fucked out brain to clear, you could do nothing more than hum in acknowledgment. “I mean it, Y/n. I get that having insecurities is normal, but, when I look at you, I swear to god I can’t see a single flaw.” Your eyes fluttered open and connected with his in the mirror. “You are perfect, Y/n. And I’m not just saying that.” Giving him a small smile, your heart did leaps in your chest at his heartfelt testament. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and when you took a moment to look at yourself again in the mirror, you realized that maybe he did have a point.

Even through your makeup, your cheeks were filled with a lively glow that wasn’t there before. Your eyes seemed to glisten in the light, and your lips were swollen and pink. You would have expected your hair to be messed up, but Matt’s hands running through it had actually made it fall exactly they way you had hoped it would when you were styling it. You still struggled with your bloating, but flashbacks of your body squirming sensually under Matt’s touch — and the residual satisfaction of your orgasm a reminder of just how good your body could feel — allowed you to find a new appreciation for it. Feeling a lump form in your throat just as it had when you tried on your black dress — this time for an entirely different reason — you gazed adoringly at Matt. “Thank you baby.” You whispered before turning around and planting a deep kiss to his lips.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart.” He responded, both of his hands on either side of your face so he could stare at it up close. “You think you’re up for dinner still? Because let me tell you, you’re on a whole other level of sexy when you’re shovelling steak into your mouth.” You erupted into giggles at this, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m serious.” He continued, his voice filled with laughter. “You think I have blue balls now, just wait until after dinner. They might explode.” You shoved his shoulders playfully at this, and hoisted yourself up to your feet to find your discarded dress. “You add a lobster to my dinner plate, and I might just be able to help you out with that on our way back.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[letsnotperceive]

Okay, I just can’t stop thinking about John Price honestly. Especiallyyy after he’s *retired*!!

Here is a little drabble (is that the right word? Can’t remember, I’m new here). It gets a little 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (18+) towards the bottom but nothing crazy. F!Reader

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ୨ᰔ୧ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

✧.* Because sure, big buff military man who’s puffin’ more smoke than a chimney is cool and all. But give me sleepy, squishy, human teddy bear Price. Give me Price who’s perpetually exhausted after carrying the weight of the world on his back. Price that just wants to hibernate for a while with his luv.

✧.*Im thinking he’s all softened up around the edges. All that muscle mass doesn’t disappear over night, but as time passes and he’s no longer on an extensive workout routine, it ain’t sticking around forever. Big ol’ pecs that you can squish your face against, a little padding to his stomach. Hold on, stay with me now 🤤

✧.* Of course, he’s still got that grizzly sort of appearance. All mapped in scars and maybe the occasional burn from those late nights spent at his desk with a cigar between his fingers while he’s drifting in and out of consciousness with exhaustion. The damn workaholic! Hairy too; least we forget—that beard and those arms. Oh lord.

✧.*Maybe one day you realize in that post retirement laze of his (which is well deserved, mind you. Don’t give him a hard time now) that he’s looking a lil’ extra scraggly. You sit on the bathroom counter, and with a delicate hand and a very distracted focus, you give his beard a shave. All cute and romantic, the room still steamy from your shared shower…

BAD. Mistake. You both agree to never let it happen again. An angel just lost its wings!! Leave his beard alone 😭

✧.*Treat this man so good, he deserves it. Whether you like to cook or not, you find yourself gravitating to the kitchen on occasion to make sure he’s eating well at least some of the time. Some home-cooked meals to cancel out all those shitty MREs he’s consumed in his lifetime.

✧.*Bet he will reward you for it too; he’s got a soft spot for good girls. He is tired of yelling commands and barking out orders, he’s too worn out to deal with a brat. Be a sweet little thing now and show him some love. Offer to climb into his lap and take over when his bad leg starts acting up, see where it gets you.

✧.*Rolling your hips to a steady rhythm only you hear, he lets you have your fun until he’s ready to set the pace. Big hands pawing at your waist, clutching at you just tight enough his fingers are going to leave red marks for him to soothe away after. He doesn’t even have to roll his hips up against you, he can just move you as he pleases with his strength.

✧.*You don’t even have to try to give him a show—he drinks in every little reaction you give him. His heart skips a beat when you mewl, your eyes threatening to roll back in sheer bliss. The sticky sound of your thighs, drenched in arousal, meeting his skin. The way your lips meet his neck and shoulders, kissing and nipping love bites against his body. The mattress springs squeaking from underneath you two. It’s a performance, and he’s dedicated to appreciating every moment.

✧.*He’ll send you melting with his words, too—

“Mmm, is that good, little luv’?”

“You like that, baby? My darlin’?”

“Such a good girl—doing so well f’me.”

“F-fuck lovie, do that thing with your hips again~”

✧.* Aftercare is top-tier with him too, no questions asked. He may have gotten a little lazy in his retirement, but never when it comes to you. Water, a snack, a quick clean up. Him putting his entire weight over you like a human weighted blanket. Whatever you need, Lovie.

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

Wrote this quickly after doing an online job interview, I don’t think it went very well bc I have awful RBF but wish me luck :,)

Should I do a full fledged fic about this? Anyone interested? Okay, bye <3

[lilasamaaa]

Who says "I love you" first? Part Two | F1 grid x Reader

Click here to read the first part!

Genre | Fluff

Featuring | Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, George Russell, Carlos Sainz, Yuki Tsunoda, Max Verstappen.

Word count | 1.8K

Warnings | None! Enjoy the ride!

Author's note | Coming up with original ideas for this was so painful lmao, I'm sorry it took so long!

Oscar Piastri

He says it first.

Today marks four months since you and Oscar have been together. The Australian texted you a few hours ago, telling you to wear a nice dress and meet him in front of your building at 8.

The two of you had met four months ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. You had heard of love at first sight, but had never experienced it before him. Before your eyes met his. As you had moved to Australia a few weeks before meeting him, and with English not being your first language, it had taken a bit of time to get comfortable with each other and juggle between your respective languages, but today, you two were inseparable... To the point where you'd already canceled the plane ticket that was supposed to take you back home at the end of the year.

The restaurant where you're dining is splendid. The candles on your table cast a soft light on his face, the atmosphere is incredibly romantic, and the dishes are delicious. But above all, it's the looks Oscar has been giving you all evening that make your heart beat. A mixture of tenderness, passion, and admiration.

"I hope you don't mind, but I ordered dessert," your boyfriend announces, looking at you fondly.

As soon as the sentence is uttered, a waiter places a plate in front of you, and you let out a gasp of surprise as you discover the letters traced in chocolate. "I love you". In your native tongue. Your eyes start to water as you meet Oscar's gaze, visibly nervous. For a minute, you're speechless. Equally surprised by the kind attention than by the admission from the Australian.

"Please tell me they spelled it right," the driver says as you burst into laughter.

"They did," you reply, reaching for his hand. "And I don't have any dessert to prove it, but just so you know, I love you too."

Daniel Ricciardo

He says it first.

Daniel and you are lying on the couch in his living room, watching a replay of last weekend's race on TV. You love it when your boyfriend comments on every move, explains the strategies, and tells you about his feelings in the car. Even though you attended the race live in Singapore, it's definitely different to look back at the race with the insight of a real pilot. As Daniel explains to you the choice of his medium tires, the image from the replay suddenly changes from the track and zooms in on you, wearing a headset, in the garage.

"What?" you yelp, standing up on your elbows. "I didn't know they were filming me!"

Under your face, a small banner appears, and you feel your heart tighten. "Daniel Ricciardo's friend".

"Oh," you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from the tv screen.

"Wow," Daniel says. "So they really have no idea that we're together."

The camera dives back onto the track, and Daniel starts commenting on every moment again, before realizing that you've been silent for a while.

"Hey," your boyfriend says, nudging your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just..." you start, feeling your throat tighten. "We've been dating for a few months now, and it's... It's weird to be called your friend. I don't know. It's making me feel insecure."

"Well, you shouldn't," the Australian says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "Because I love you. Way more than a friend."

George Russell

You say it first.

At work, George is methodical. Organized. At home, however, you've come to learn that your boyfriend is a real scatterbrain and forgets everything. All the time. To the point that since you started seeing each other more regularly and you began sleeping over at his place, you've gotten into the habit of leaving notes for him all over the apartment before going to work.

"Your brother is coming over tonight"

"DO NOT order food. There are leftovers in the fridge!"

"Your fave sweater is in the dryer"

Each note is always signed the same way. A double x (you two live in England, after all) and a smiley face. If you're the one writing the small notes, George is the one collecting them and throwing them away everyday. So tonight, as you close the door to his apartment behind you, you're surprised to find your boyfriend on the couch, holding one of the bright yellow squares in his hand.

"Hi babe," you say, coming closer to him. "What's this?"

"Your note," George replies, looking at you. "From this morning."

"What about it?" you ask, furrowing your brow as George hands it to you.

"Don't wait for me for dinner tonight, I'm going out with the girls. Love you."

Oh. You're still looking at the note with wide eyes when your boyfriend speaks again.

"Did you mean it?"

"I'm... kinda surprised I wrote it, but yes, of course, George. I mean it."

Your boyfriend gets up from the couch, coming towards you before planting his lips passionately on yours.

"Well, I love you too," George says, making your heart skip a beat. "And I'm keeping this one," your boyfriend laughs before pocketing the note.

Carlos Sainz

He says it first.

Carlos and you have made it a habit to call each other as much as possible when the driver is away. The distance is already hard enough to manage for the both of you as it is, so there's no need to torture yourselves even more with radio silence. Sitting in the hotel lobby, the only place where he managed to get enough network for a high-quality call, your boyfriend is telling you all about this morning's free practice session when the phone shakes, and you see his eyes hovering above the screen.

"Wait, hermosa, just a second."

The microphone cuts out, and you see your boyfriend's lips moving without sound. You furrow your brow, thinking that someone from the hotel staff might be scolding him for speaking aloud in a public area, when Charles appears in the corner of the screen, the sound coming back.

"Charles wants to say hi," Carlos says, playfully rolling his eyes. "Please find a girlfriend and stop annoying mine."

"How are you?" Charles asks, smiling at you, ignoring Carlos' whines.

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking!" you reply, smiling back at the driver.

"Now, move," Carlos says, "I'd rather talk to her than to you. You'll understand that when you're in love again."

A laughing Charles waves at you a final time before disappearing from your screen. Your attention shifts back to Carlos.

"So..." you say playfully. "You're in love?"

Realizing the slip-up, Carlos' eyes widen.

"I didn't mean to say it like that. Or over the phone. But yes, I am," your boyfriend says, smiling proudly.

"Good thing I am too, then," you reply winking.

Yuki Tsunoda

You say it first.

Yuki is naturally shy. You noticed it from your first meeting, and you've never been afraid to take the lead. You've been the initiator of all your firsts : first conversation, first date, first kiss. This dynamic works well for both of you. You suggest, and Yuki always happily follows.

However... there's something you've been afraid of initiating. It's been several months since you started seeing each other, and you're truly on cloud nine. Everything is going well between you, the chemistry is perfect, and the slightest glance from the Japanese makes you absolutely melt. You know the signs. You're in love. But how do you tell him without scaring him off?

The answer comes naturally as you watch your boyfriend exchange words with his Team Principal in the Racing Bulls garage, his helmet in his hands. As Yuki finishes zipping up his suit, his back to you, you kindly offer to hold his helmet and take the opportunity to pull out a marker from your pocket, discreetly scribbling on the plastic shell before handing the object to your boyfriend.

The race goes incredibly well, and Yuki finishes in the points, creating euphoria in the garage. When your boyfriend gets out of the car, his first instinct is to take off his helmet and steal a kiss from you as you laugh.

"What's making you laugh?" Yuki asks, looking at you fondly.

"I put a little encouragement on your helmet, and it looks like it worked," you whisper, pointing to the three hastily written words. I love you.

Yuki is naturally shy, yes. Yet, the kiss he gives you after your revelation is the only confirmation you needed.

Max Verstappen

He says it first.

It's been ten days since Max flew several hours away from you for his next race, suggesting you stay at his place until his return. The initial idea was for you to look after his cats, but the driver would never admit that what he wanted above all else was for you to put your intoxicating scent all over his sheets... Creating a sense of domesticity that he wasn't so sure you were ready for yet.

Keys turn in the lock, and Max appears at the end of the hallway, suitcase in hand. It's safe to say that he didn't expect to find you curled up on the couch, asleep, his two cats nestled in your arms.

The sight is enough to make him want to call your landlord and tell them you' won't be needing your apartment anymore. To give you the keys to his place, and never take them back. But for now, abandoning his suitcase in the hallway, Max sits on the couch gently, making sure not to wake you before softly stroking your hair. You whine softly in your sleep, opening an eye.

"You're back," you mumble weakly.

"I am, and it looks like nobody missed me that much," Max says, pretending to be hurt.

"What?" you say, sitting up. "I missed you! Every day!"

"And yet, you wasted no time replacing me," your boyfriend laughs, petting his sleepy cats.

"I had to adapt," you reply with a smirk. "They confessed before you. There was nothing I could do."

"Do you want me to confess?" Max says, bending over to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your heart flutter. "You have my love. All of it."

[no-144444]

dangerous media- o.piastri

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pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: things go downhill fast as you fall, and he has to catch you. what makes it worse is what he says after…

part one | part two

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You sat in the media pen, an exhausted look on your face. It had been an awful 36 hour day, you were tired, sick, and you just wanted to crash in your hotel room. But, you couldn’t do that, because you still had interviews left.

Jenson stood beside you, already practically asleep. You’d had 4 flights cancel, and then the next flight got delayed, and so on and so forth. You two were not in the mood for a self-deprecating Lando Norris, nor an arrogant Lance Stroll, or god forbid, an angry Kevin Magnussen.

“Can I take Oscar?” you asked, just wanting a calm and collected person to deal with.

Jenson sighed but nodded. “Then I get first dibs at quali,” he bargained. You agreed.

Oscar came walking out, calm as ever. He was P2 in FP2, not bad considering last year, finishing in 8th. You stood up, but too quickly. Immediately, you knew you’d made a grave mistake, Jenson tried to grab you,but it was much too late, and it all went black.

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You woke up in the med tent with a pounding headache and someone’s hand in yours. “Jen, I’m fine-” you started sitting up, but it was Oscar who pushed you back down, he was holding your hand.

“Don’t get up too fast,” he instructed, making you lie back down. “We don’t want you fainting again.”

“Oscar?” You questioned.

“Hey,” he smiled, happy that you were awake.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You fainted in the media pen, I brought you here about 30 minutes ago,” he explained. “You’re dehydrated.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine,” you scoffed, trying to get up again. Again, he pushed you back down.

“You’re not. You’ll stay here until you have a clean bill of health,” he said, stricter and more serious than you’d ever seen him. “I have to go do some media, but I’ll be back in a half an hour, and I’ll bring you back to your hotel, yeah?”

You nodded, accepting your fate. “Whatever you say, doc.”

He smiled. “Good. See you then.”

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Usually, you would’ve told him to go fuck himself (you weren’t one to be told what to do), but considering how weak you felt and how little you wanted to go out there and ask more questions, you stayed put.

You thought about him, though. Oscar. After looking it up online, you did find out that your fainting was filmed. You watched in embarrassment as you went to the ground, Jenson yelping. What came next shocked you. Oscar quite literally jumped over the barrier, almost knocking over an entire camera, and ran over to you, cradling your head as he got others to step back and instructed Jenson to go get a medic. Then he turned to the cameras, and actually shouted at them to ‘fuck off’. Oscar Piastri showing emotion in 4K.

What was he, superman? Was he trying to make the dating rumours worse?

Either way, you appreciated the fact that he saved you, and the fact that he turned the cameras away from you too. You were also subject to the online conversations surrounding you and Oscar’s relationship. You rolled your eyes as every second comment was some variation on “oh my god the way he looks at her!!!”

Couldn’t people be friends anymore? Couldn’t people be nice anymore?

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You watched Oscar’s interviews from your laptop, then after 10 minutes from when his interviews ended, he appeared in front of you.

“My knight in shining armour,” you teased.

“You watched the interviews?” He sighed.

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. Half of the interviews were about what had happened earlier and how Oscar had reacted. Jenson had called him your ‘knight in shining armour’ and now it would be his new nickname. “But seriously, thank you for everything, I’m feeling much better now.”

He nodded. “Anyone would do it.”

You shook your head. “You jumped over a barrier, almost knocked over a camera, made Jenson run, and told about 60 people to fuck off and stop filming me. That’s no small feat. Thank you Oscar.”

He blushed slightly. “You’re welcome.”

“I’d better head to my hotel, thank you again Oscar-”

“Let me drive you,” he offered.

“Oscar, you’ve done enough for me today-” “Please let me-”

“I don’t think it comes into the job of being a knight in shining armour-” “Please let me-” “Oscar seriously, I’m alright-”

“Let me drive you!” He finally raised his voice, speaking over you. “It’s ok to rely on people! You don’t need to be so stubborn!”

You silenced, your ego slightly bruised. “Fine,” you murmured, grabbing your things and getting up.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-”

“I know what you meant,” you gritted out. “I’m letting you drive me, come on.”

He followed behind you, upset about how he’d handled the situation. He just wanted to take care of you. He wanted you to notice how much he cared.

He sat in the driver's seat and looked over at you. You stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You don’t need to be sorry Oscar,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands.

“I do,” he shook his head. “I should be, I’m sorry. I love that you’re stubborn. You’re so smart, and independant and I understand that. I know you can take care of yourself, I just wanted to remind you that you don’t always have to.”

You sighed and took his hand, looking at him. “Thank you for today Oscar, but please just drive me to my hotel.”

He nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you, and off he went. He walked you up to your hotel room, helped you into bed and promised to pick you up in the morning, and you were much too pissed off and tired to disagree.

He had a lot more than just qualifying on his mind went he went to bed.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

part one | part two

[rninies]

Favoritism

synopsis: Itoshi Rin hates people, but maybe not you.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, thats it tbh idk what else to add lmao — wc: 645

note: back to my bllk era because i miss him

Itoshi Rin dislikes hanging out with people. Call him anti-social, introverted, anything you want, really, but he just hates being around people. It annoys and tires him out.

When you first met him, you didn’t think too much about the glare he sent you when you politely introduced yourself to him. You thought that maybe he was just having a bad day, so you continued to approach him, constantly sitting next to him, asking him how he was doing, basically just pestering him — but it’s not like he has the heart to snap at you. You’ve been nothing but kind to him.

That’s why you are a bit shocked when Rin suddenly asks you to come and hang out with him on a Saturday morning. Sure you wanted him to ask you to hang out sometimes, but you didn’t expect him to do that. 

Since this was your first time out with Rin, it took you almost an hour to choose your outfit, constantly changing outfits when one looks weird on you. As soon as you finished getting ready, you rushed out the door, called a taxi, and rushed to the cafe you promised to meet up in.

When you arrive at the cafe, you see Rin sitting at one of the tables, scrolling through his phone with a cup of coffee in front of him. You smiled to yourself, finally sinking in that Itoshi Rin asked you out. “Rin!” 

His head shoots up, almost dropping his phone. “Y/N.”

You held in a laugh, seeing how you scared him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” you sat down across from him. “Did you wait long?”

“No, just got here,” Rin replies, suddenly feeling awkward. “Can we stay here for a while? I want to finish my coffee.”

“Oh sure! Go ahead. I might order a drink myself.” you say, standing up to go order a drink. “Do you want a snack?”

Rin shakes his head, taking a sip from his coffee. You nod, walking up to the cashier to order yourself a drink and a croissant. Walking back with your drink and croissant in hand, you sat down, taking a bite out of your croissant. “Why do you seem so awkward right now? We talk to each other every day at school.”

“I don’t know.” Rin mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s weird talking to you outside of school.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I only a person you talk to during school? Am I just a school friend to you? Do you dislike me outside of school?” You couldn’t help teasing Rin a bit.

“I don’t like most people, but you’re an exception,” Rin replies. The hand that is holding your croissant stops just below your mouth when Rin finishes speaking.

As soon as you process what he just said, a smile immediately appears on your face. “Aw, I didn’t know you liked me that much!”

“Huh? No, I don’t.” Rin denies it, but you can see his ears turning red. Your smile widens, and Rin knows you’re about to say something cheesy. “Shut up. If you say one word I’m canceling this date- hangout.”

“Huh?” Unfortunately for you, you had quite poor hearing so you didn’t manage to catch on to the word ‘date’ that slipped his lips. “What did you say?”

Rin clears his throat, suddenly looking shy. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” He suddenly stands up, going to throw his cup. “You coming?”

“Oh!” you quickly finished your drink, standing up to follow Rin out of the cafe. “What do you have planned for us today?”

“It’s a surprise,” Rin says with a small smile on his face.

You are curious, but you decide to stay silent to not ruin the surprise he has prepared. You just know that it’s going to be a great day today.

[eloquentlytired]

hi!! could you pls write a fic of nomad!steve rogers x reader where they discuss that one day steve can surprise reader with sex while she’s sleeping? like completely consensual! and a couple nights later, reader is like on her side, her back facing him while she sleeps and he’s pulling her panties to the side and going to pound town 🫡

18+ mdni

sweet sleep

pairing: nomad!steve rogers x fem reader

word count: a lot ?!

warnings: (consensual) s0mno — choking — just tons of sex once again — fingering — wet wet wet

summary: it takes a while for you to open up about your biggest desire to steve but when he finds out what you want, he doesn't disappoint.

steve is observant and also knows you like the palm of his hand so it doesn't help your case when you always appear so nervous or cancel your words every time you talk about things you enjoy in bed. it's a sensitive topic for you, not because you've been rejected in the past, but it simply had never come up and you'd never had a deep connection with someone else before — not like the one you have with steve. he doesn't pressure you but he mentions it occasionally, “you know you can tell me anything. I'd never judge.” and then he presses a reassuring kiss on your lips.

it should be fine, you tell yourself, because steve and you are so so close that it feels foreign to hide a part of yourself from him. when you feel courageous enough to tell him your biggest desire, with your hands literally shaking, steve accepts it without any judgement and suggests something before you do. “you don't work this week,do you?” you shake your head and steve’s smile widens. when you realize why he's asking you this, you blush and wrap your arms around him as a silent thank you. steve plants a kiss on your forehead and before he walks away he's sure to whisper against your skin. “I guess I should tire you out till nightfall?”

you spend another day discussing the basics such as what he is allowed to do and what he isn't; and of course to guarantee a final confirmation that you're both ready to do this. “I just want you to use me.” something flickers within steve’s eyes but he says nothing, except he uses one of his hands to give your thigh a rough squeeze. you gasp but no words are exchanged after. all you find yourself doing is wait.

and you do wait because steve doesn't act immediately. two days pass then three and by the time you know it, it's thursday. your day had been full since steve insisted on waking up for an early hike, then breakfast and then hitting the beach. you returned home at a late hour and you were completely exhausted, only mastering some strength to hit the shower and change into your favourite pajamas. steve bid you goodnight with a gentle kiss on your lips and you were absolutely gone, sleeping soundly.

steve knew that you were a light sleeper so for this to work,he only had one option and that was indeed to tire you out like he'd done tonight. it was almost cute how confused and unsuspected you looked when he prepared so many activities for today — but your naive mind didn't figure it out. it worked wonders for steve's plans regardless.

he took his time showering after you had fallen asleep and went for his sleepwear. steve pulled on some gray sweatpants, completely disregarding the choice of underwear, and walked into your shared bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. his little angel. you looked like you were having a good dream judging by your body language and the way you were nearly smiling. steve climbed on the bed behind you with your back facing him as you laid on your side. he scooted over carefully and his bare chest brushed against your back gently while his hand disappeared between your bodies. he grabbed the elastic band of your night shorts and pulled it down to your ankles, exposing the white panties underneath them. steve had to suck in his breath at how tight they looked against your cunt, expressing every outline of it against the fabric. it was almost see through too which left little to imagination.

steve’s fingers carefully traced your panties, pausing at the side of your body to pull them down as well and leave your pussy exposed to the cool temperature. it was good that you seemed unaware so far, still very much asleep and nuzzling against your pillow while steve undressed the lower half of you. with your cunt finally free of any confinements, steve moved slowly and used his hand to lift your leg slightly and push it forward so that your cunt was completely exposed to his eyes. two of his fingers slid against your folds like a teasing caress and steve noticed your body shuddering but whether it was from the cold or his actions he could not tell. he poked at your entrance experimentally but your reaction was faint. he had really managed to tire you out for tonight and by confirming this he became bolder and a little rougher.

“there we go.” he muttered to himself while sliding his finger down to his knuckle, stuffing your cunt with it. a whimper escaped your lips but you had still not awakened although your reactions to his touches were multiplying. steve began pumping his finger in and out of you and when he added a second one without waking you up still, his eagerness just kept growing.

he was knuckles deep inside your pussy and three of his fingers were currently being pumped into you, your walls swallowing them hungrily. there was a wet mess pooling in steve’s palm and he was laying there, observing your sleepy figure while your face formed countless expressions. at some point the back of your head was pressing against his shoulder as your mouth fell agape and small tears gathered in your eyelashes. the way you were whining in your sleep and with how your pebbled nipples brushed against your pajama shirt spoke many volumes about whatever you were dreaming.

steve eventually retracted his fingers from you but didn't bother wiping the juices that coated his entire palm. he shrugged off his sweatpants to his ankles and grabbed onto his own cock instead, pumping it to its full hardness and coating it with your wetness purposely. he guided the tip of his cock between your thighs then and offered an experimental grind of his hips, his body buzzing with excitement when his cock brushed against your wet folds. “shit.” he had done a good job prepping you surely and although the slide had been so smooth at first, your pussy entangled around his cock and suffocated it as you woke up with a startle.

your body jolted in both surprise and fear as you were absurdly woken up by something entering you. you could feel a pair of strong arms wrapping around you and holding you against a body so much larger than your own. when you registered what was really happening, your pussy clenched around steve’s cock and your mouth fell agape again. “steve—” both of you moaned at the same time when he began thrusting into you, pounding your cunt mercilessly to your waking point, and it was a surprise for the both of you at just how wet a situation like this had made you be. the sounds that emitted from steve fucking your weeping pussy were loud and extremely wet — and you couldn't recall a time when you were this turned on with another.

his arms surprised you by sliding underneath your armpits and his palms reached for your hair, pulling them on each side. in this current position you were completely under his mercy with his hips slamming against yours from behind and his strong arms forcing you into being just a helpless body. your hands could barely hold onto his elbows, scratching the skin there in response of his rough hair pulling. you cried out when steve slid his cock out of you and forced it back inside, stretching you into oblivion. “so soft,so pliant.” he rasped into your ear as you pressed your hips together, feeling yourself soaking around him even more because of his filthy words. steve fucked into you hard, his skin slapping against yours loudly. “so fucking unaware.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as a particular thrust had your entire body trembling.

steve grinned and pulled you back by your hair just so he could see your fucked out expression similar to his own. it did something to him when you, usually so sweet and shy and quiet, had expressed your heavy interest in experiencing something like this. and his cock twitched with delight when his usually reserved angel acted so inappropriately just because he had been fucking her in her sleep. “stevie!” you mewled as he offered a particularly hard thrust straight to your sweet spot, your pussy tightening around him again. he could tell you're close ,he was too, but he didn't want to let go just yet.

a string of whines and gasps suddenly left your mouth as steve slid one of his hands between your thighs and reached for your clit, pinching the swollen bud between his digits. the arm that was once placed underneath your armpit had disappeared as steve moved it around your chest instead, squeezing it until his elbow was resting underneath your chin. your mouth formed a faint ‘o’ as steve picked up the pace and offered you overwhelming sensations. it was impossible to focus on one — be it the fat head of his cock assaulting your sensitive bulge of nerves, his thickness stretching out your hole, his hand on your clit or simply his entire arm wrapped around your throat and putting it into a literal headlock.

your fingers scratched against his bare arm weakly as he choked you, his lips brushing against the side of your head. “you wanted me to use you so I am.” he growled and one more pinch of your clit had you trembling against him, your orgasm washing over you like an endless steam. steve tightened his arm around your throat and you gasped for air, your mouth gaping as your voice refused to work. his hand didn't halt even after you came, his fingers caressing your oversensitive clit as he continued pumping his cock into you. he refused to cum — not fucking yet.

it was impossible to keep your eyes open and although he loosened the grip of his arm around your throat, the rest of his motions did not cease. the restless pounding of his hips against yours and his hand toying with your spent clit were amazing but nothing could’ve prepared you for whatever words he would speak next, as sleepiness drowned you.

“fall back asleep, sweetheart. i’m not stopping.” and then your eyes fell shut.

author’s note: HI DEAR ANON!! I hope this met ur expectations, I did my best. this was my first request so I'm rlly nervous. Thank you sm for trusting me with it 🩷🥹🌸 ILY ALL!!!

[adragonprinceswhore]

The Way I Feel Under Your Command

Chapter I: Red Lake I Next I Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: After being forced to spend his summer at Red Lake Resort, a drunk Aemond meets a pitiful dance instructor at a party he did not want to attend.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, alcohol consumption, intoxication, classism, Aemond thinks he’s better than everyone, Aegon is an awful older brother

A/N: Enjoy 🫶

The lush greenery of the Reach would still be beautiful even if the mid-summer sun didn’t illuminate it. 

Despite the modernisations of Old Town, Ashford and Tumbleton, the southwest region of the Seven Kingdoms still feels reminiscent of a time when Westeros was ruled by noble families. Fields of wildflowers and ruins of ancient castles lay scattered across the vast landscape, instilling a false sense of serenity inside Aemond Targaryen as he steers his fathers car towards Red Lake. 

He had mistakenly assumed he’d successfully dodged his mother’s pleading; begging him to join the family’s yearly resort get-away. Besides his siblings, the only other guests seem to be his father and grandfather's old business associates, making the holiday he’d grown tired of appear even more unappealing. 

Embarking on his final year of university, Aemond had gotten used to the solitude of one-man study sessions and spending his weekends working with his grandfather. It was all worth it in his eyes; the tireless preparation for the position he’s been working towards since he was old enough to walk. 

He’d planned on using the summer holidays to fully submerge himself into the mechanics behind the almighty machinery that was Targaryen Holdings. Unsurprisingly, his father had barely responded when he told him about his desire to spend the summer working, but his grandfather had offered him a nod of approval and a comforting pat on the back. 

The fleeting moment of validation had provided Aemond with enough fuel to cancel all other summer plans in favour of spending his last weeks of freedom soaking up as much knowledge as possible inside the glass-covered skyscraper Targaryen Holdings called their HQ. 

Yet he found himself driving his parents to their usual summer retreat, only two weeks after finishing his last seminar for the semester. 

When Aemond had ignored his mother’s countless requests begging him to join the family one last summer before being completely engulfed by the corporate world, she’d changed tactics and instead reasoned with her father, convincing him that for Aemond to successfully integrate with the top of the company, he needs to familiarise himself not only with the business side of being a Targaryen, but the private expectations as well. 

That entails rubbing elbows and making contacts at exclusive holiday resorts. 

His grandfather and siblings had arrived a week prior, but because of his father’s deteriorating health, hospital appointments and check-ups had held him and his wife back, giving Alicent the perfect opportunity to push her third child into complicity and ask him to join them by acting as a chauffeur. 

After enough nagging, Aemond often gave in to his mother’s wishes simply because he couldn’t stand to disagree with her for long. 

Pulling up to the luxuriously restored ruins of House Crane’s seat, he recognises every detail from his previous summers there; the multicoloured flowers abundantly hanging over the sand-coloured balconies, the brightly yellow lemons ripening in the citrus trees decorating the sides of the villas, the variegating shimmer dancing in the water of Red Lake. 

He hands the keys to the valet diligently standing by the driver’s side of his father’s favourite vehicle as his mother helps the withering elderly man out of the sleek, black car. She offers him a hand to hold and another to steady his trembling body. 

“Mr. Targaryen, what a pleasure to see you again”, a middle-aged man clad in an impeccably tailored suit exclaims enthusiastically to Viserys, white teeth on full display as he quickly signals for two bellboys to grab the esteemed guests' baggage. 

Feeling like he’s gotten his fill of mandated family time for one day, Aemond quietly retreats to the usual villa where the Targaryen’s stay. He slips inside undetected, heads to his usual room, and promptly locks the door behind him. 

It is easy for Aemond to get lost in his thoughts whenever he’s around his family. 

Either it’s his older brother retelling a ���funny’ anecdote that he doesn’t feel sad to miss out on. Or it’s his younger brother and mother discussing plans for the summer, a topic he knows he doesn’t have much say in anyway, consequently choosing to remain silent. 

As long as he remembers to hum in reply whenever addressed, he can comfortably sink into the depths of work or school related pondering; laying out a plan for when he’s allowed to get back to being productive and useful instead of wasting his time drinking overpriced wine. 

The unbearable sensation of his older brother's wine-soaked breath next to his ear pulls Aemond out of his thoughts, “I’ve been told there’s a staff party happening tonight”

“Have fun” 

Aegon snorts and then smiles at his brother’s instant dismissal and the predictability of it, 

“Oh, come on! I can’t go alone” 

“Ask Daeron” 

Aegon leans in even closer, causing Aemond to recoil further away from his brother as he clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Daeron and I had a little disagreement this morning, he won’t talk to me” 

He hadn’t even noticed the strained tension between his brothers during dinner, the uncomfortable aura seemed to be a permanent companion to the Targaryen-Hightower family. And Aegon angering one of his siblings didn’t come as a surprise to him. 

Aemond’s momentary silence is wishfully mistaken as compliance by his brother, who finishes his glass of wine instantly before standing and thanking his family for the “lovely dinner”. He gestures for his brother to stand as well, flashing a victorious smile at his table-companions before he informs them, 

“Mondo and I have a party to attend” 

Aegon's rough hands shove Aemond into the packed room, following so closely behind that the younger brother has no choice but to walk further into the room.

Rarely in his life had he witnessed such an over-crowded space, sweat flying from intertwined bodies, the heat of the room causing the air to almost taste salty. 

He wrinkles his nose at the scenery in front of him, shoulders stiffening as he feels embarrassed by how utterly out-of-place he is. Afraid that his uncomfortable state will soon become prevalent on his features, Aemond shifts to the side, moving away from his older brother in an attempt to slink off as quickly as he’d been forced inside. 

Before he has a chance to retreat, he feels Aegon’s arm tighten around his shoulder in an aggressive, false sign of brotherly affection. 

“Don’t you fucking dare”, he leans in to scold his younger brother, steering them both towards the wonky fold-up table filled with colourful bottles of alcohol. 

The music’s loud enough to drown out all other noise, and Aemond has to duck his head to speak directly into his brother’s ear, “You really should have brought Daeron”

“He’s not the one who needs to relax”, Aegon replies matter-of-factly. He grabs two clear plastic cups from the table and fills them with what looks like vodka and some type of red soda. Shoving one cup into Aemond’s chest, he swallows half of his own’s content in one gulp. 

Aegon watches how his brother eyes the cup suspiciously, gaze trained on the fingerprints sporadically decorating the clear plastic, evidently reluctant to bring the stained cup to his lips. 

“Oh come on, princess!”, Aegon shouts, catching Aemond off-guard as he grabs his hand to forcefully move the cup towards his lips, “It won’t kill you!”

Aemond slaps his brother’s hand away before reluctantly taking a sip. The drink is sickly sweet, nothing but sugar and food colouring, but with a sharp, bitter aftertaste of cheap alcohol. Quite the contrast to the aged Dornish Red they’d had with dinner. 

The neutral expression he’d schooled his face into falters as the revolting taste of the concoction prompts him to involuntarily grimace. Aegon’s obnoxious cackle follows, face beaming at his younger brother's misery, “So I take it you don’t party at uni then?”

“Not like this”, Aemond admits, once again letting his eyes wander across the room. The space reminds him of the utility room at the Sept he visited as a child, old and worn down without anyone ever bothering to fix the dilapidated space. 

Some effort had been done to zhuzh up the place; hanging thin, blinking strings against the walls in lieu of using the cool-toned fluorescent lamps, and placing a mirror ball by the oversized speakers shoved into the corner. Still, the obscuring lightning couldn’t hide how foul Aemond found his surroundings. 

For their entire lives, his older brother must’ve downplayed his ability to read his younger sibling’s mood, because as soon as Aemond attempts to place the nauseating drink back on the table and leave, he feels Aegon’s alcohol-infused breath warm his ear, 

“It’s your last summer before graduating uni and officially taking up residence in Grandfather’s arse”

Despite his clear intoxication and the playful jab, Aegon sounds uncharacteristically serious as he adds, “Have some fucking fun”

The filthy floor sticks to the soles of Aemond’s shoes, forcing him to aggressively pull up his feet with each step. He doesn’t recognise any of the music playing, and the people surrounding the Targaryen brothers grind on each other in the most depraved excuse for a dance he’s ever witnessed. 

Still, he stays, bracing himself as he downs the rest of his cup, reluctantly readying himself to learn what Aegon’s idea of ‘fun’ entails. 

Despite continuously finishing cup after cup of the sickly sweet concoction Aegon’s forcing down his throat, Aemond fails to see what it is about parties like this that his brother finds so much enjoyment in. 

The crowded room still feels suffocating, the smell of sweat is pungent, and the young staff members Aegon’s been chatting up provide little in terms of being interesting conversation partners. 

“You’ve never had a girlfriend, right?”, Aegon half-shouts into his ear as yet another girl escapes Aemond’s one-word replies to her intrusive question, “You still a virgin?” 

He stares blankly in reply to his older brother’s question. Like he’d tell him of all people about that. 

Before being forced to answer, he’s saved by an excited shriek, 

“Oh Aegon, you made it!”

A clearly drunk young woman appears behind the duo, wobbling a bit to the side as she tries to find a comfortable stance. Aegon flashes her one of his insufferable smirks, surely thinking it’ll impress her. 

He introduces her to his brother, explaining that she’s the sad thing working as the resort’s dance instructor, and thereby spends most days in the arms of soggy, old pensioners. 

She rolls her eyes at his comment, gaze melancholically drifting away as she states, “Hopefully this’ll be my last summer here. If all goes well, I’m enrolling in dance school” 

Aegon’s barely listening to what she’s saying, instead he giggles over how she slurs when she says ‘enrolling’. 

Guess she’s not the only drunk one here. 

“So we’re celebrating tonight!”, his brother happily says before filling another cup to the brim and offering it to the dance instructor. 

“More like grieving”, she mumbles, bringing the cup to her lips to take a large sip, “Just found out I’ll need to bring a dance partner to the entrance exam in three weeks” 

Her unfocused gaze again drifts across the room, to a lean, mousy-haired guy grinding on one of the restaurant’s busboys, “I’ve asked Greyjoy to help me out but he’s not strong enough” 

The older Targaryen’s eyes light up at her comment, leaning in closer to her ear, “You know, I’ve got some experience” 

Her eyes widen in hopeful excitement, “You do? What kind of dance?” 

“Well-“, he licks his lips as he locks eyes with her, “Most of my practising has been horizontally. I’m very skilled with my hips” 

She instantly pulls back, expression thoroughly unimpressed, “I’m fine, thanks” 

Turning around to leave, she’s stopped in her tracks as Aegon grabs her elbow, 

“Oi, what about Aemond here? He works out like a maniac, I’m sure he’s got the stamina”

Aemond hadn’t really been paying attention to the conversation, finally feeling the effect of the alcohol heating up his face and causing his hands to tingle. 

She turns around, eyeing him up and down, “Have you ever danced?”

“No”, he answers truthfully. 

“He used to do horseback riding”, Aegon chimes in, “That’s kinda the same thing, right? Like, girly sports” 

Her eyes stay trained on the statuesque man before her, “I need someone who’s strong enough to lift me over their head”

“I’m not interested”, he curtly replies. 

Her gaze travels between the two brothers, once again rolling her eyes and shaking her head before mumbling something and walking off on unstable legs. 

Unpredictable as always, Aegon releases a roaring fit of laughter, “You’re so fucking dumb, Mondo” 

“Shut up”

“She’s out of your league anyway”, he breathes out between cackles, “You’d probably cum just from touching her” 

Aemond clumsily places his cup on the table, drunken haze elevating the irritation his brother instils in him, “I’m leaving” 

Shoving Aegon out of his way, he hears his brother’s laughter grow louder as he shouts, “You’re so fucking boring Aemond! Live a little!” 

When he’s finally free from the musky prison of the party, he takes a deep breath of fresh summer air and sets sight for the family villa. 

Aegon’s mocking echo in his head, much harder to shake off when he’s not in his usual, sober state. 

Just as he hears Aegon calling him boring for what feels like the 100th time in his mind, he spots her outside one of the more modest-looking cabins on the outskirts of the resort. 

Fuck it. 

Stomping towards her, he blurts out, “I’ll do it!”, a bit too loudly, causing her to jump from the sudden noise, eyes darkening as she recognises who’s approaching her. 

“It’s fine, I’ll find someone else”

Aemond huffs impatiently at her unwillingness to cooperate, “I said I’ll do it”

Her eyes narrow, taking in the stern look on the strange man suddenly insisting he wants to help her out, 

“Fine. Tomorrow morning at 07.00. Meet me by the boathouse” 

She’s by the boathouse almost every morning, thoroughly enjoying the fleeting moments of solitude she’s allowed at the resort. 

None of the residents were ever out and about at this hour, which means no distractions or expectations of politeness on her part. 

Taking a large gulp of water, she’s still feeling the taste of yesterday's cheap cocktail on her tongue. 

Drinking your problems away never works, stupid. 

Like most days here, there’s not a cloud in the sky. 

Early mornings were really the ideal time to practise; the sun’s still hanging low and the air is still chill enough to remind its surroundings of the night that had just passed. 

Starting with stretches, she stands wide while altering between preparing the muscles in her legs. 

Being granted a reserve spot at the school meant she had to perform an original routine, which was clearly instructed to showcase her creativity, as well as taking a written examination, testing her knowledge of dance theory. So, she’d made it a habit to spend the limited leisure time she had before work practising physically, and the evenings in her dorm reciting theory.  

The grass under her feet might not be the optimal choice for stability, but it allows her to take risks, the green softness cushioning her failed attempts. 

Just as she’s about to put on her headphones and begin, she spots a figure emerging from the other side of the large field overlooking Red Lake. 

He walks with pride, broad shoulders pushed back and head held high; a clear contrast to his slightly unstable steps outside of her cabin last night. 

Despite the time it takes his non-rushed movements to reach her, his eyes stay on her, locking her in place with his gaze. She’s almost overwhelmed by his presence; shock, intrigue and fatigue from yesterday's partying swirling in her gut. 

He came. 

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ wing damage, chapter one (mv1)

Eldest of the Halliwell girls, Y/n (or Nadine) gets her heart broken by the man she’s supposed to wed in six months. Four years of love slipping down the drain faster than she can try and grasp at the remaining water droplets.

But... not all hope is lost as far as the f1 community is concerned and they might be right, since Max seems to be trying to get a little closer to his team owners eldest daughter.

max verstappen x influencer!halliwell!reader / fc: sophia la corte (and various ginger women on pinterest.)

warnings & notes: cheating, mentions of alcohol, small age gap (24-27), strong language, probably inaccurate f1 information, using a name as a placeholder for y/n bc i’m not typing that every time, dates are off by two days in the beginning. deal.

EDIT: I love nadine too much to scrap her story even tho christians a BITCH, so for all intents and purposes in this fic, congrats! a spice girl now owns oracle red bull racing 😭

(part two!)

“Do you want me to confront him?” Max asks, sitting down next to me in the paddock. His hand comes to squeeze my knee, my father rubbing my back as he deletes every photo—every memory of Jacob Taylor from my phone.

Four years down the drain.

My friends back home at my apartment are currently bagging up his stuff. Both Mona and Ally will move in with me, just like college again, once his stuff is empty. My bare apartment will soon be filled with our old nick nacks but i can hardly be happy about it.

Cheated.

The man who spent 50k on an emerald cut four karat ring with a real gold band, cheated? The man who cried when his mom told him she loved me, cheated? The man who cancelled an entire film set because it conflicted with my schedule, cheated? The man who won over the hearts of not only Geri Horner, but Christian Horner? He was the one who cheated?

Jacob was (strong emphasis on the was) the highest standard I ever held. Now, I didn’t even know what standards to have anymore. Anyone could be a cheater. I never stood a chance.

“It’s fine, Max.” I say softly, wiping at my face again to try and make it look less like I’ve been sobbing since I found out as soon as the plane touched down two days ago. The paddock is buzzing, qualifiers getting ready to start for the first GP. The warm Bahraini sun beats down on the track and I can see the heat wiggling above it. Even in March it’s as hot as summer over here, and part of me misses the gloomy, smoggy streets of London right now.

“It’s not fine!” Max groans at me, throwing his head back in exclamation. I know he’s sick and tired of hearing me say it for the thousandth time, but if I say it’s not fine, I’ll break down. And we can’t have that.

“Max,” GP's voice calls before Max can go on another tirade about killing Jacob. Max turns and I can see the hesitance in him to leave my side. He’s been like this since I met him the first day he raced with Red Bull years back—instantly the two of us clicked. When the days got hard, or his dad got on his back a bit too much, I would appear by his side and with a tiny smile somehow I'd fix everything. After I became his sort of 'chauffeur' when one of our drivers got sick in Abu Dhabi his first year, and we got stuck in an hour of traffic with nothing to do but talk, we became basically glued to each others sides.

I think having my unwavering support made a lot of the transition into Red Bull easier for him. And in moments like these, where he's watching me with a keen eye, I don’t know how I lived so long without his calm presence at my side. I was only a five years old when my Mom bought Red Bull Racing, it’s been my entire life, and every racer who has passed through our team has never stuck to my side like Max Verstappen has.

“Go.” I nudge his knee when I see his hand twitch and hover by his helmet, eyes darting to me and then GP who waits in the doorway, so I supply, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Max nods, giving me a departing hug before he gets up and starts tugging his racing suit on. Immediately my mother replaces him, turning my head to card his hands through my hair.

“Oh, honey.” Geri coos, squeezing my arms as she lets me lean into her, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong, Mama.” I sigh, leaning into him and letting his wrap his arms tight around me.

“No, I trusted that boy. That’s what I did wrong.” She says back, before handing me back my phone. We sit like that for a long time, people passing us without asking. Everyone knew. I had found out the same way they all did—on social media. Jacob didn’t even have the balls to tell me himself. Fucking coward.

Eventually someone calls my mother away for some celebrity, sp I force myself to sulk off to a hidden corner where I can munch on chocolates and watch Max from a little tv. Not as good as my usual perch next to my Mom, but I don’t need the public seeing me the day I find out my fiancé of several years had been cheating almost the whole time. With his co-star.

Fucking hell.

nadinehalliwell

liked by maxverstappen, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, and 124k others...

nadinehalliwell: before and after max won

tagged: bbhalliwell

gerihalliwell: love u lots mini ginger spice!!!!

⤷ nadinehalliwell: mama ill cry </3

charlesleclerc: maman says hello and that she will have wine for you when you come to monaco

⤷ arthurleclec: nadine you are very beautiful do not let a man win -- maman

⤷ thenadinehorner: OMGGGG <3<3<3 XOXO MAMAN JE VOUS AIME TELLEMENT

bbhalliwell: bahrain was NOT ready for the halliwell girls !!

maxverstappen: you and your sister together is recipe for disaster

⤷ danielricciardo: bet they're planning ur downfall.

⤷ nadinehalliwell: beware both of u 🔪

I knew returning home to my apartment was going to be hard. I had spent a few days with my mom and Bluebell home in Nottingham.

Being in my mothers had been refreshing enough to start and heal my heart. I also learned that my mom was really fucking good at healing, it involved a lot of wine and a lot of cursing.

My apartment in Monaco had been a home full of happy memories of moving in with Jacob, and our time living together everyday I wasn’t at grand prixs and he wasn’t on set. Memories of our families and friends together with us, and now it would be just me.

So empty. Alone. White walls with no decorations anymore. Just staring at me, closing in slowly.

Opening the door I sucked in a breath of pure agony. My mother's warm hand around my shoulder a soft reminder that even if I felt abandoned, I wasn’t alone. Not by a long shot. And as the door clicks open, my hand finds the lights instinctually, and my eyes widen to dinner plates.

“Welcome home!” a chorus cheers and I laugh, all my of old friends circled around the end of the foyers hallway, wine glasses and soju bottles in hand. I can’t even speak as tears fill my eyes and the girls run to me, waving my mother off. She kisses my hairline, tells me she'll text me when she gets home, and shuts the door as my friends cart me into the kitchen and wipe my tears and fix up my messy hair with giggles.

“Tonight!” One of my friends—eventually I source the drunken giggles to Ally, “we will make you so hot and sexy, he will regret it.”

“And if he comes crawling back!” It’s Mona now.

“We will rip his dick off!” Marija shouts and the girls raise shots to me.

“Guys—what is all of this?” I can’t help but laugh, and then the three look at each other and smile.

“So… you’ve heard of a revenge dress, right?” Ally says slowly, and it all clicks.

nadinehalliwell

liked by maxverstappen, charlesleclerc, christianhorner and 976k others..

nadinehalliwell: ‘little black dress, who you doin it for?’ 🖤

tagged: monanotlisa, allycameragirl, marijaswrld

maxverstappen: Is this that ‘hot girl era’ thing?

⤷ charlesleclerc: i think so.

monanotlisa: absolutely sexy. as per usual.

allycameragirl: FUCKKK UR HOT 🖤🖤

landonorris: one direction???

⤷ nadinehalliwell: ofc you know it’s one direction.

⤷ landonorris: cannot tell if this is a compliment or not but thanks ?

marijaswrld: 🧎‍♀️ < me

[rubyclover]

I said I can’t write but if felt nice getting that other idea out of my head. So I wrote this and will post. Technically I started trying to write this like a month ago… Please ignore the constant switching between past and present tense. It’s something I never seem to notice until someone else points out where it is.

Prompt: Professionals hate him but he was right! [Adam] Heaven and Hell come to the realization that The First Man played a larger part in the three realms’ political/social ecosystem than they thought. His absence leaves a vacuum that Lute is unable to fill but she may not need to because Hell is solving the problem themselves… The Morningstar Family can’t run from this.

No ABetaO we expire like Adam~

Imagine that Adam dies, the hotel has never looked better, the residents have healed up and Charlie gets another TV appearance. Lucifer is even more depressed than before but hides it. Adam is gone She’s going to reveal Sir Pentious’ redemption with evidence that is NOT childishly scribbled on key cards. Instead of the interview taking place in the 666News studio it’s held outside the hotel. She will take questions, live, right after the interview. Katie Killjoy wants to give the public a chance to cause chaos for ratings, so she puts Charlie in a vulnerable position.

Things go great… for the first 20 minutes. The interview isn’t even half way done when someone from the crowd interjects after Charlie says ‘The Sinners have a better life now that the Exterminations are permanently canceled.’

That person’s voice is calm but still pissed as Hell. They fire back that no, Sinners don’t have an easier life now that the Exterminations are over. It’s worse! Charlie and the crowd perk up.

The voice moves to the front. They’re short with plain street clothes, hood up. It’s obvious they’re poor and at the bottom of Hell’s pecking order. A couple of Imps are with them equally disheveled and tired looking. The man goes on to point out some rather hard truths.

Thanks to the last Extermination, angelic steel has become a hot commodity. While uncommon right now, there’s a pipeline to obtain an angelic weapon. All you need is enough money. Carmilla Carmine doesn’t care about how her product is used after purchase.

‘Permanent Murder’ is a new trend on HellTube netting ridiculous profits. The main targets are vulnerable Sinners, usually the scared and alone new arrivals, Imps and Hellhounds. All killed by beautifully glowing angelic weapons.

Overlords are more formidable with these weapons so the chance of contractees escaping, like Angeldust, has become damn near impossible even if they destroyed their contract. Some desperate souls were happy with their messed up immortality. It gave them some hope, ‘at least I have a chance to turn things around eventually,’ but that pathetic security is gone.

The Exterminations kept said Overlords in check to a degree. They were more inclined to take care of their underlings because that guaranteed their safety. Now? Just get an angelic gun for all your troubles. Valentino is having a fucking field day.

The ‘permadeath’ toll for one year will be ten times the amount of one Extermination Day considering how much Hell’s citizens like to kill Sinners…

Not to mention, whole industries in Hell, from top to bottom, are starting to crash. Their purpose or sales revolved around the Exterminations. Some workers cannot afford to lose their job and have to sell their soul against their will.

Etcetcetc

As the man speaks Charlie is surprised to see heads nodding in agreement! Someone comments that they hadn’t seen their Sinner friend in a few days and tries not to panic while another face falls in the crowd and wrings their hands together. An Imp with curved horns standing beside a young Hellhound sweats profusely and starts to leave. Tension moves through the public. Not just the ones in front of the stage but also those watching TV.

Despite her best efforts Charlie cannot lift the crowd’s mood. She realizes prematurely revealing Sir Pentious’ redemption is the only way to salvage this growing disaster. Unfortunately the man’s timing is perfect because the second she opens her mouth he turns his anger on the Morningstars.

He calls out how much her family misrepresents themselves as rulers. They don’t do anything for Hell anymore. They spend most of their time fucking around while the Sinners suffer. The other Sins manage their rings and hellborn, not Lucifer or Lilith. All three of the Morningstars can’t truly understand human suffering yet they profess to know how to best handle it. With no idea what it means to be human yet they pass judgement on them.

The crowd becomes agitated and the Imps beside the man move closer to him. They aren’t trying to draw safety from the Sinner but are taking defensive positions. Charlie realizes this isn’t someone speaking up in the heat of the moment. This is a planned speech. He’s highjacking her broadcast!

She sees the Sinner clench his fists and feels herself start to sweat. Why was he saying any of that? Yes, life will be a bit hard at first but now everyone can come together and rebuild! There are so many possibilities available to The Pride Ring. It would improve lives. Change was always good they just had to be careful. Yet the stranger goes on.

He claims that Lucifer is a washed up angel that can’t comprehend mortality because of his maladaptive dreaming and pride, Lilith is apathetic to Sinners and wishes to aggravate Heaven no matter how much Hell will suffer and Charlie is so sheltered that she thinks PTSD can be solved by clapping and saying positive affirmations.

Little is known about the royal family but the stranger’s comments sway the crowd. The hotel’s original commercials got the time of day because of Charlie’s status, not because the facility had managed to accomplish anything. Lucifer barely appears at all even when large fights break out leveling half of Pentagram City. And Lilith? Missing for 7 years after riling up all of Hell multiple times, causing Heaven to start the Exterminations.

The stranger calls the hotel a disgusting joke. Calls out how Charlie is trying to ‘pass the buck’ over to Heaven. The Pride Ring’s actual rulers are Overlords and they make sure Sinners suffer and continue to act depraved whether they like it or not. Her family has the power to take control and lessen the city’s suffering but they don’t. Instead they play with their little pet project .

Why are they focusing on shipping problems elsewhere? There’s a better way to solve the pain and suffering at the source than waiting! Fix Pentagram City! Show Heaven that the current number of Sinners isn’t a threat!

‘For all the crying and sniveling you do Princess Charlotte, you sure don’t actually help where it counts! I’m sure you care about Sinners but only on the same level as someone cares about cute public park ducks.’

Vaggie, who had been standing to the side of the stage leaps forward, places herself in between the stranger and her girlfriend. Everyone’s raised emotions have put her on edge. She ignores the harsh gasps when her angelic spear slides free and into her hands. ‘Back up! Now!’

Charlie’s heart sank at the escalation. She understood her girlfriend was still tense from the extermination but all their hard work was starting to fray around the edges! She just hoped her dad didn’t-

The King of Hell himself appears through a portal shortly after gathering himself together. The opening looked angrier in color, matching his mood. Sickly green lines run throughout the glow, radiating blistering heat. Parts of the stage began to melt and the forgotten camera crew swivel to their ruler. Lucifer’s face is set in stone but his bright flickering eyes give him away.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He snarls, apple topped cane slamming onto the stage causing some of it to splatter. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter that way.’ Lucifer’s face morphs into a more demonic grimace. Katie Killjoy scrambles from her chair and off the stage at the same time as Charlie vaulting up to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder whispering ‘dad no!’ She doesn’t want the hotel’s improved reputation to evaporate. A confrontation with someone on live TV would scare people away!

Lucifer growls in the back of his throat, looking at where he assumes the bastard’s eyes are under his hood. Smoke and embers sizzle out from the corner of his mouth and inbetween teeth. He hated acting this way but he had an image to uphold. ‘Answer your King you wretch. Don’t confuse my inaction with benevolence. You’re testing my patience!’

After a beat or two of staring each other down the stranger has the gall to ‘tsk’ off to the side as if spitting. ‘As you with your majesty. It’s all fine by me.’ A small, scared hand reaches up and whips off the dirty hood exposing his face to all of Hell.

People instantly whip out their phones. His face is shockingly similar to Lucifer’s, in fact a basic carbon copy sans a few attributes.

Cameras catch alabaster skin and soft, blond, curly hair, short, wiry build, vivid green eyes, pale coral cheek markings, pointed ears and four demon wings the same color as his skin.

Leaf green eyes stair directly into Charlie’s while electing to ignore both fallen angels. He stands ramrod straight. Cutting a regal silhouette despite the filth on his body and clothes.

‘My name is Cain Adamson, The Wandering Star.’ He bows in a fashion Charlie hadn’t seen in all her galas. ‘Lucifer Morningstar’s first born and bastard son. It’s nice to finally meet you sister mine… I’ll be taking your family’s crown for my father.’

[So in this AU Cain rescued Adam’s body and resuscitated it. They had a familial bond even when Cain got banished for murdering Able and found out his bio dad was Lucifer. Eve didn’t pay much attention to her first born out of guilt so Adam stepped up. No one shamed her. Adam never felt like Cain was separate from his other kids even though he looked nothing like him. Now Cain wants to provide for his father who’s trapped in hell and in really bad condition by booting the Morningstars out of power in the Pride Ring.] Dunno about pairing but Adamsapple or Guitarhero would be a safe bet. Either way Lucifer will suffer lol

[wtf do I call this? Family Feud AU? Chessboard AU? Secret Brother AU? Idk h e l p ]

[zhounauts]

CHASING ──── pairing f1 driver!lhs x fmr warnings breakup, cursing, x proofread wc 1.3k currently listening to lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.

the first time you meet lee heeseung he’s 21, fast, on his third year with red bull, and chasing.

and you’re just you: looking for a job with college coming to a close, wanting to settle down, and here at this fancy monaco club by chance.

the dim, flashing lights, and the pounding bass of the music fill your senses as you sip slowly on your drink that’s far too expensive for someone like you. “could i get another?” you turn to the voice that appears from next to you.

he’s handsome, his hair slicked up, with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. you rip your eyes off of him , drinking what little remains of your drink. “could i also get another of what she’s got?” you snap your head towards him. he smiles. “you’re here alone?”

“yeah,” you answer. he grins, as the bartender slides over the two drinks. he grabs his before sliding over the second one to you.

“oh you didn’t—“

“take it, i wanted to,” he echoes. red rushes up your already rosy cheeks, and you’re insanely glad for the dim lights that previously hurt your head.

“thanks,” you mumble.

“i’m lee heeseung, and you?”

with that night, your life changes.

you go from boring college student, to traveling the world, grand prix after grand prix, sitting in the red bull garage to watch heeseung.

it’s thrilling, every single time you arrive at the bustling paddock with heeseung by your side. you feel on top of the world when heeseung pulls you in for a quick kiss before hopping into his car, the goofy smile on your face seemingly lasting till the the checkered flag.

your heart bursts with pride when he finishes on the podium, cheering in the crowd with his team and when he pulls you in for a hug even thought he’s sweaty and tired.

heeseung is the definition of high speed and you become apart of it.

but just as quickly it all happens, it all can quickly fall apart.

heeseung is chasing.

chasing to be the fastest, chasing to be on the podium, chasing for that world champion title, chasing to be the best, the top of formula 1.

he isn’t chasing to settle down, not even in the near future, because then he’ll be chasing for his second world championship,his third, fourth, and whatever else he can get his hands on.

he’s reaching for things thousands of miles ahead of you, and where he wants go simply doesn’t fit you.

you know the initial thrill of your relationship is fading, heeseung is training, he is always training.

even during the longer breaks between race weeks, he’s out, chasing things that don’t include you. but you don’t want to let go, so you keep trying to keep up.

but he’s too fast, and you’re running out of fuel.

you don’t even flinch anymore when heeseung sends you a message, cancelling a date again because he’s held up at the sims training again. you simply close your phone, setting it down and order when the waitress comes up to you again for the third time.

her face is sympathetic and she’s kind to you, but despite that you wish you could slap that look off her face. you’re angrier than ever this time, all these missed dates, and the lack communication finally catching up. when the food comes, you barely touch it, furiously sending it to heeseung’s tab before storming out of the restaurant.

“yn?”

it’s twelve at midnight when heeseung reaches your hotel room. you put your phone down, and stare at him. “i’m really sorry i—”

”shut it heeseung,” you snap, “i don’t want to hear the same shit coming out of your mouth again,”

“no yn this time i’m—”

“save it, you were busy training or whatever you do, i don’t care,” this time, heeseung narrows his eyes.

“seriously?” heeseung demands, “are you joking?”

“i get you’re training! i get you want to win the world championship because the last race is this weekend and you and Jake are tied for points, but don’t you ever think about us? do you ever think about me? cause it really seems to me, that i’m just—”

“well then you clearly don’t understand,” heeseung snaps, and you inhale sharply. “listen, we’re both tired right now, let’s just go to bed alright? i don’t want to fight with you,” you watch as he hangs his jacket up, and goes to the bathroom. “we can talk when we’re both not yelling,” he slams the door. he shuts you out.

but for some reason, you still don’t want to let go.

you wake up the next morning to the rustling of bed sheets from heeseung’s side.

you groggily watch as he shuffles around the room, going to the bathroom to get ready to leave already. it stings, as you sit up yourself and rub your tired eyes, that this is happening. when he comes out of the bathroom, his eyes meet with yours.

“are you coming to watch qualifying?” he asks, breaking the silence. you look away from him. “okay,” he inhales sharply, “take your time. we’ll talk another time,” and he leaves, shutting the door, shutting you out for the second time again.

the sheer volume of the red bull garage is enough to make anyone go deaf, but despite your anger at him you're still jumping for joy up and down with the members in the garage as heeseung passes the finish line, in first place, as champion of the world.

an engineer grabs your wrist, pulling you out to run with the team so that they can greet heeseung and you laugh, following.

when heeseung jumps out of his car, he sprints, throwing himself over the gate and into the team, where he’s met with slaps on his helmet and screams of pure joy. he makes his rounds around the team, and when he gets to you he stops.

the adrenaline you previously had from his win comes to a slow, as you stare at him. you can’t see what he’s thinking, with the helmet covering his eyes, but you still give him a small smile. that’s enough for him apparently, because he pulls you in for a hug, but you know it's different from the usual ones you two share.

the next time you see heeseung, is at the afterparty, in another one of those fancy clubs that you had grown used to, but had never grown to truly love. afterall, the drinks were still much too expensive for someone like you.

now heeseung is 22, faster than ever, world champion, and still restless for more.

and you’re 22 now as well, slowing down, and settling. when you look over at the center of the club, heeseung’s surrounded by his team, who are still parading him around and cheering. from your spot at the bar, you watch, observe, and when you see heeseung’s face you let go of all your anger, because it all just clicks.

his eyes meet yours and you watch as he stops. you sip on your drink, turning away from him. you feel someone approach from behind, “could i get a refill? and one for her to,” the familiar scene sends shivers down your back, as heeseung slides into the seat next to you just like he did on that one unforgettable monaco night.

“you did great,” heeseung laughs.

“thank you," he grins, "i feel on top of the world,"

“plotting for your second championship already?”

“you bet,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling. you sip on your drink silently.

“i think we should end things here,” you say quietly. you watch as he falters slightly.

“i’m sorry,”

“no, don’t be,” you tell him, “i’m sorry to. i knew this whole time,”

“it wasn’t you,”

“i know,” you tell him, slinging your purse onto your shoulder. “we're at different points in life,"

"thank you," heeseung whispers.

"no heeseung," you smile, "thank you for giving me an unforgettable year, i'll be cheering for your second world championship,"

and for the first time in a while, you leave the club with your side empty.

© zhounauts 2024

networks @a-dream-bookmark

[staytiny-dreams]

dating streamer! beomgyu (c.bg x reader)

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn! reader

genre: streamer! au, fluff, tiny bit of angst but not really

warnings: some parts focus on covid-19 pandemic if that's a trigger for you, i think that's all but lemme know if you think i missed anything

wc: 3.4k

note: so tired at 3am i accidentally hit the post button when it wasn't ready so if you've already seen this, no you haven't. i'm unsure how it turned out so let me know, i've also never formatted it like this before so any feedback on that lemme know too, and... look forward to the other members versions <33

squeals leave beomgyu as the tension rises, the anticipation of the jumpscare he knows is coming getting the better of him

the chat speeds by

“i thought you were supposed to be good at horror games”

“what happened to beomgyu has no fear”

“we told you you should play fnaf beomie!”

“took you this long to play fnaf?”

beomgyu whines at all the ‘i told you so’ comments

“come on guyssss im so late to this how am i supposed to know you’d be interest-” he cuts himself off with a guttural scream as freddy finally makes his long awaited appearance

seeing the bamtoris laughing at him in the comments he pouts at them

“chat you distracted me okay, i let my guard down because of you!”

his pc pings with a notification and the text to speech reads out “themarcotoyourpolo says ‘HAH you are such a liar beom you would’ve screamed either way’”

when beomgyu was seventeen, he spent his time like every other teenage boy did

playing video games

but sometimes his best friend would come over and he’d pull himself away for a few hours

only to sit with you and watch streamers play other games

honestly you didn't mind when beomgyu played games when you were over

he was entertaining to watch

really entertaining actually

“hey gyu, don't you think you’d be a good streamer?” you suggested one day jokingly.

you both giggled at the little game of ‘yes and’ that followed, planning out an entire future together where beomgyu was rich and famous, and you lived in a mansion together that was just a haven for video games and your friends, but after your little tangent, the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came.

or so you had thought.

a week later, sitting across from each other at the cheapest your favourite restaurant in town, beomgyu brought it back up again.

“do you really think i’d make a good streamer?”

“why are you actually thinking about it?” you snorted, taking a sip of your water thinking he was joking again, but when beomgyu didn't say anything you tilted your head up at him.

“oh shit are you actually thinking about it?” beomgyu gave a noncommittal shrug and picked at his food, staring down at his plate. he refused to look at you until you knocked the table in front of his plate lightly.

“beomie,” you started as he stared at you with wide eyes, “i could watch you play for hours.” you don't think you could ever forget the way his smile took over his face at your words.

and that led to the next few months spent with you and beomgyu on call for hours a day

playing mostly minecraft together although occasionally he’d branch out to other games

you hit all his milestones together

he still remembers the day you first got a double digit view count

excitement flooded through the both of you as the kind soul who raided you spams your comment section

the same day, beomgyu also hit ten followers, prompting you two to make his discord server

whenever you were too busy to join him on stream beomgyu would whine and complain like his life depended on it

more often than not he’d actually end up cancelling the stream for that day

one day you didn't feel well but you decided to sit on call with beomgyu while he streams so that he wouldn't cancel

beomgyu chattered on as he normally does, yelling about how, “beomgyu never dies,” but he noticed that today you were not reciprocating that same energy.

in fact you had been so quiet that he wasn't even sure you were still alive on the other side.

“(y/n)ie are you alive over there? (y/n)? marco?” he asked and ever so faintly he heard a weak ‘polo’ sound throughout his headphones.

“one moment, chat,” he said to his 20 something viewers before deafening on discord and muting his mic.

he wriggled his phone out from where it hid in his pocket, opened your contact and called you. it dialled almost four times before you picked up.

“i’m so sorry, beomie i fell asleep. i really didn't mean to but i-” he cut you off before you could go on.

“are you okay (y/n)ie?”

“to be honest beom, i don't feel very well i-” cutting you off again, beomgyu announced that he would be coming over to cure you before promptly hanging up and ending stream leaving both you and his chatters confused.

turns out, curing you meant bringing you his mothers soup and watching youtube in bed with you until you fell asleep. your burning forehead left patches of sweat on his chest, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

from then on you had a system in place where you would check if the other was still there by calling out “marco”

and if the other person was okay they’d call back “polo”

sometimes you regretted this system on days beomgyu decided you were too quiet and abused the marco-polo system by continually calling out marco like a broken record

a little while after beomgyu turned eighteen, the pandemic started and so followed lockdown

it was a really hard time for beomgyu

you were supposed to be starting college together that year, along with your close friends from high school soobin and taehyun

but now all classes were online and he wasn't allowed to see any of his friends

going from seeing you everyday to never took a toll on beomgyu that he didn't expect

he just hated knowing you were only a few streets away and he couldn't just walk over to you whenever he felt like it

beomie :>: are you looking at the moon rn and wondering if i’m also looking at the moon rn?

ynnie <3: beom we called for six hours today

beomie :>: i know right, i miss you too :((

ynnie <3: omg fine get back on disc lets watch a movie

but with his ray of sunshine by his side, he eventually found his footing in this apocalypse

a lot of his time was spent on call with you

working on your respective assignments

watching your online lectures on 2x speed

any other free time was spent streaming

since everyone was stuck at home, due to his frequent streaming schedule

and infectious energy

beomgyu’s audience quickly grew

going from 1000 followers when lockdown had started to hitting 3000 followers within a few months

taking your advice, he also became more active on his other social medias

even posting clips of his streams on tiktok

a few of which went viral causing his channel to grow substantially again

he also started a youtube channel for those shorter games

or ideas that required more editing to execute than a stream would allow

one day, while checking his twitter dms his eyes almost fell out of his skull

he dialled you immediately

“(y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n)!”

you took a deep breath in, prepared to repeat his name back to him in the same tone, but you didn't get the chance.

“do not copy me, we do not have time for that, this is a code blue, (y/n), code blue!”

“what on earth is a code blue?”

“big creator dmed me (y/n), come on, we’ve discussed this!”

“we’ve never discussed a code system in our entire life.”

“what that is such a lie, you just never listen to a word i say!”

“well sorry beomgyu if you talk so much nonsense that it's hard to keep up,”

“nonsense? you take that back!” he screeched, but you could only giggle at him.

“i will literally never do that. come on gyu, what’s the code blue?”

“oh, yeah! j-hope messaged me (y/n). he asked if i wanted to join his friends' discord and play among us with them.” you squealed for him, excitement rushing through you.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! beomgyu, what did you say?” suddenly beomgyu felt sheepish, realising he’d just been sitting there with the message open, too busy bickering with you to have responded.

“oh um… well, nothing yet i called you first…” now this time you screeched.

“you left 20 million youtube subscribers, 1.5 million twitch followers jung ho-seok on seen? beomgyu!” you scolded. beomgyu didn't know whether to be afraid or laugh, but his endearment got the better of him and he burst into giggles at your tone.

“don't laugh at me mister, text him back right now and tell him you’d be honoured to play with them!” and as he began to type out a reply to his senior, all beomgyu could think about was how he couldn't wait to have you in his arms again.

joining such big creators in playing among us put beomgyu in contact with even more big creators and had his channel blowing up

he met many new friends including someone who would become one of his closest friends

huening kai

as covid restrictions were eased and tightened again, beomgyu made sure to see you any time he could

but due to social distancing laws, he wasn't able to tackle you in his affection the way he wished

at the end of 2020 the second wave of covid set in

your anxious mother decided that you were not allowed to leave the house until the pandemic was over

beomgyu struggled with this news

his weekly outings walking six feet away from you - but still with you - were helping him hold on to his ray of sunshine

but with your assurance that you'd spend even more time on call with him and watch all his streams, he was able to keep his mood-maker demeanour in front of his fans

“so what are your plans for valentine’s day, (y/n)?” beomgyu asked, already knowing your answer.

with february 14th approaching, beomgyu was kicking himself for not having said anything sooner because your mother still wasn't letting you out of the house and beomgyu wanted to say what he had to say in person

“what do you mean gyu? you know i’ll still be stuck at home.”

“hm… well, maybe we could do a minecraft date, like a valentine's day special.” he suggested tentatively.

“like for your stream?” you asked and he shrugged.

“we don't have to stream.”

“but beom, aren't our friends all having dinner at soobin’s that day? don't you want to join them?” you reminded him and he simply shrugged again.

“don’t want to leave you all alone on valentines day (y/n)ie.” your face felt hot. you loved your mother to pieces, but sometimes her self imposed covid restrictions really got on your nerves.

and then march came, and for the first time in twelve years you feared you wouldn't be able to spend beomgyu’s birthday with him

“mum please, i’ll do anything,” you begged, “legally four people are allowed at an indoor private gathering.”

“and what if someone there has covid (y/n)? you have asthma it could really affect you!”

“it’s only going to be gyu, soobin and taehyun. you know all of them, you trust them! plus we’re all going to test before we go!”

“and what about transport, (y/n), what if you catch it on the bus?”

“i’ll take a taxi.”

“and what if the taxi driver has it? or what if you get in the car with a bad driver or a kidnapper?”

“mum! where is all this coming from? please. it’s beomgyu’s birthday, i can't miss beomgyu’s birthday. i swear i will never ask to go out again. just please let me go see him tomorrow.” tears welled up in your eyes. you hated fighting with your mother, but you couldn't let beomgyu down like that.

but the fight was all worth it when you knocked on soobin’s door the next night and beomgyu opened it.

he pulled you inside and slammed the door shut before squeezing you tight to his chest.

“you're here?” he asked, voice muffled as it was buried in your shoulder.

“happy birthday beom,” you smiled, arms tight around his stomach.

he pulled away from your hug and before you could joke about how your mother would never let you see the light of day again, beomgyu pulled down your mask and pressed his lips to yours.

two seconds passed where you stood still, wide eyed in shock before you registered what was happening and jumped into action.

one of his hands still held your mask, and the other came down to your cheek which you’re sure must’ve been burning him from how hot your face felt. you followed his lead, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and pushing your other through the hair at the bottom of his neck.

too soon, beomgyu pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry (y/n). i wanted to wait, until after lockdown, i wanted to talk to you first but i saw you and i just-”

“i love you beomgyu.” you cut off his rambling and he let out a flustered laugh.

“i love you too (y/n), i love you so much.”

due to covid still ongoing and your mother’s strict rules, you and beomgyu decided to take things slow after that night

there were no more meetings in person as you kept your promise to your mother

nothing much in your relationship with beomgyu changed due to your agreement to take things slow

he flirted a little here and there but there were no new pet names or anything of the sort

beomgyu continued to focus his energy on streaming and you continued to focus on your studies

beomgyu’s streams always providing the perfect background noise

but don't tell him that you don't devote a thousand percent of your attention to him at all times

luckily as 2022 approached, your mother began to let beomgyu visit your home provided he wore a mask in common places and if he had any symptoms he did not come over

and in april 2022 most legal restrictions were lifted

with your second booster vaccination, your mother lifted your house arrest

it had been over a year since you confessed your feelings to each other and your 20th birthday approached

you both had a big discussion about giving your relationship a real try

beomgyu now had almost half a million followers on twitch

after grinding for two years, he now had a rather large fan base

you expressed that you were a bit worried about having your relationship public to them

beomgyu didn't quite understand your concern as you had been participating in his streams and been a prevalent figure on his social media since the beginning

however, respecting your wishes, you both worked to keep the romantic nature of your relationship between yourselves and your close friends.

while beomgyu seemed to have found his schtick after 3 years of streaming

playing horror games on stream and co-op games with you for his youtube channel

and the occasional vlog

the friends he had made playing among us, huening kai, ho-seok and jungkook had begged him to join a minecraft server and stream with them

so with your encouragement

and his conditions that his partner and best friends also join the server

beomgyu joined the bighit smp started by kim namjoon

it was only a few months after you officially started dating

just before his 21st birthday and both of your fourth and final years in college

when beomgyu came to you with his proposition

“move in together?”

“is it too soon? i know we've only technically been dating a few months, but-” you cut beomgyu off with a hand on his mouth.

he stared at you wide eyed for a split second before his expression changed. luckily, you recognised the suspicious sparkle in his eye and removed your hand from his face before he could lick it, leaving him pouting at you.

“don’t look at me like that,” you giggled but his pout only deepened and he reached over to grab the hand that was previously on his face.

“so? what do you think? you wanna live with me?”

“hmm… i think…”

“(y/n)…” he whined, dragging out your name.

“i think we’ll need to find a place with an extra bedroom, so you can stream in there and not in our room.”

living with a horror streamer

most days of the week it's fun

a substantial income

your boyfriend’s always home

your boyfriend is practically fearless… in theory

okay maybe he’s only fearless when it’s fictional media

even a little bit of clout, not that it matters to you

as you always have, you tend to join beomgyu and your other friends when they play minecraft in the bighit smp

as well as being in all of beomgyu’s vlogs

since you moved in together, you decided it was best to come clean to bamtoris (his fans) about your relationship

they were very supportive

due to your presence in his channel from the beginning, there were some long time shippers who were more than pleased to hear this news

and maybe a little cocky, plastering ‘i told you’ so posts all over their socials

yes, the beomy/n truthers were very pleased

of course there were those who were convinced he was dating other streamers

or those who shipped him with his other friends, soobin and taehyun

and just general psychos who simply hated you because he wasn't dating them

nevertheless you both saw the relationship reveal as a success

so sometimes you go and sit with beomgyu while he streams, just as you used to sit on call with him

but this particular wednesday night was a tough one

you’d been up late the night before working on your final project for college

then worked from 7 to 5 even though you were originally rostered for only 7 to 12

your head was pounding

and tonight, despite the soundproofing you had installed on the walls of the office

his shouts still reached your tired ears and made your head ache

you tossed and turned for a while, not wanting to ask beomgyu to quiet down as he was clearly having fun

but, after an hour of not being able to sleep you decided you were being stupid

beomgyu would never be upset with you for not feeling well

so you rolled out of bed, padded over to his door and knocked lightly, then cracked the door open

the light from the hall spilled into the room and caused beomgyu to look over at you with a smile

his hair was fluffy and his face was lit up by his screen and his purple leds and he just looked so soft

and before you could say anything, your face crumpled

and a few tears slipped down your cheeks

immediately muting his mic, beomgyu threw his headphones off and ran over to you at the door.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you into his arms and you laughed at yourself.

“sorry, this is so stupid, i dont even know why im crying.” you mumble into his chest.

that night beomgyu ended his stream early and laid in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, whispering how much he loves you

and how whenever you wanted him to be quiet or even end stream he’d do it in a heartbeat

but, if you're not sick, busy or streaming with beomgyu, you're still watching his streams

and sending silly comments

you are simultaneously his favourite and least favourite chatter

your comments always make him laugh but are often at his expense

“themarcotoyourpolo says ‘poor baby, so scared of a big teddy bear’”

“you know what (y/n), get your ass in here, we'll put the headphones on you and see how confident you are then!”

but knowing you're in his chat has always given him comfort

and made him a smidge happier to be there

if beomgyu ever had zero viewers it'd be because you died and he knew that

even then if you ever wanted him to turn his computer off and hang out with you, he’d come running

at the end of the day, whether beomgyu’s screaming at his computer screen or peacefully cooking dinner with you, he is the love of your life and you wouldnt change a thing

[scaralvr]

hello! i would like to request prompt #15 with haypasia and scaras dynamic and him trying to get you jealous but you take it the wrong way + hurt/comfort, thank you!

only you — TRIAL FOR YOUR HEART EVENT scaramouche x gn!reader (possessiveness, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort)

☆ prompt(s) used : are you jealous yet?

note(s) : thank you for requesting, traveler! i really like the idea of this concept so i hope you like how i wrote it (o´▽`o)

one tiny mistake caused your lover to completely lose his trust in you. after being so careful, you just had to slip up. the fatigue was getting to you, and you know how scaramouche gets when he sees even the slightest hint of an illness. he's so careful with you, handling you like a porcelain doll and that if he isn't considerate, you'll break.

you did break, you shattered right in front of his eyes. you passed out mid-conversation and scaramouche's distress was at high. you didn't see how his hands trembled as he held you, you didn't see how his gaze flitted from the slow rising of your chest to your closed eyes. you didn't see how visibly worried he was.

scaramouche wasn't going to let anyone betray him again, even you, his (s/o). he didn't care whether he was going to have to use force to teach you a lesson. he's grown tired of your petty little lies just so he doesn't have to worry about you.

"a devout follower of yours? i see," you say with a calm tone, but scaramouche doesn't fail to notice the way your gaze slightly darkens. he continues, "yes, isn't it great? the first step to the birth of my becoming of a God begins with her." scaramouche can hardly contain an evil cackle from slipping from his lips, but he'll save that for later.

your hands are behind your back as you fidget with your thumbs, "that's good, kuni. um, listen, i was wondering if-" you stop short when you notice the way he seems to be enraptured in his deep thoughts. probably thinking of haypasia again, huh? you look to the side and almost anyone would feel bad at the way you frown, "nevermind."

scaramouche smirks and he holds onto the rim of his hat, the trinkets clinking with each step he takes towards you. "what? do you have something to tell me?" he queries with a condescending tone, taking pride in the way you appear like a poor lamb being hunted as prey.

you shake your head, "no, it's nothing. you should get going, no time to waste on that plan of yours, right?" you shrug it off with your signature chuckle that you forced to release from your throat. scaramouche's lips curl upwards, "correct." and with that, he walks away, no greet goodbye, not a single word did he utter that acknowledged you were still his lover. his only.

lately, you noticed his visits with haypasia frequently taking up more and more of his schedule. he doesn't even hesitate to cancel out on dates he had previously planned with you and instead, wastes away at the day with a woman he just met. your insecurities begin to gnaw at you with each second that passes by.

it never leaves your mind how sometimes, scaramouche wouldn't even return for days and when he comes back, he claims it doesn't have anything to do with haypasia at all. but you do see him during your daily check-in at his office to see how he's doing. though, he seems to pay less attention to it recently. then you realize, this must all be because you showed the smallest indication of an illness.

you tuck your knees up to your chest and it looks like you're spending another day alone in bed without the presence of your lover, who's busy with his own things to do. or people to meet. the moonlight that peeks through the window's translucent curtains adorns your features. suddenly, you feel a dripping from your nose.

you touch it and look at your fingerpad to find a crimson red. you panic and get out of bed to wash up in the bathroom. blood continues to pour from your nose and your head begins to feel light. when you finish up, you make a discovery. mortal. you're a mortal. scaramouche surely doesn't seek that if he wants someone to be by his side forever.

time would take you sooner or later, and right now, your body wasn't in its best condition. tears grow at the corners of your eyes as you realize that you weren't even the one he was even looking for in the first place, because you're a mortal. your presence is temporary; no wonder he's been so off as of late.

scaramouche is exhausted. despite being a puppet, he felt his knees about to give way beneath him because of how hard he's been working lately. and the past few days, he noticed you hadn't visited him at his office so it added to his sour mood. scaramouche wonders whether he should continue to dangle countless summaries of what he and haypasia did, but he supposes you've learnt your lesson by now.

a small smile is atop his lips as he puts his things aside for the day. during his walk back to the house he shares with you, he replays your amusing reactions in his head whenever he told you about haypasia. you really are pathetic aren't you? well, all is fine. you're going to come running back to him no matter what so...

scaramouche ought to apologize as well. his behaviour was uncalled for, at least he'd agree to that. he wonders how you're doing physically too. that little incident of you passing out that began this whole ordeal still hasn't passed his mind just yet. scaramouche will check in on you when he gets home.

he arrives and peers into the rooms, searching for your whereabouts. scaramouche put his hat onto the dining room table and sighs. maybe you're out getting groceries. maybe you're visiting a friend and lost track of time. though he'd prefer the first option. scaramouche wanted nothing more than to get in bed with you after a long week of working and being separated from his lover.

his plan to become a God would be set into motion soon, and he wanted you by his side by that time. he figures he'd apologize now if he were to get back to work the next day, so he waits. scaramouche sits at one of the chairs at the dining table and waits for your arrival.

as he's only four minutes into waiting, he notices an envelope on the ground that must have fell from the table after he placed his hat on it. scaramouche picks it up and examines it before peeling it open. he takes out a paper with beautiful ink words across it, which he can come to recognize is your penmanship. hesitant at first, he reads nonetheless.

dear kunikuzushi,

i hope this letter finds you well. i, however, am not myself as of late. surely, you've noticed, but i've come to realize that you're meant for bigger things, kunikuzushi. i'm just a mortal who's living in your world and when all is said and done, time will reach me as well. at the moment, i'm recovering my state in liyue at bubu pharmacy, where a close friend will tend to me, so please, don't worry and focus on what it is you truly wish to achieve rather than allowing me to burden you. i hope everything will go well with your plan, along with haypasia. farewell, kunikuzushi.

yours truly, (y/n).

scaramouche has a blank expression when he finishes reading it. his thumb smoothes over the corner and it slightly crumples. "farewell?" he mumbles, eyes darkening. scaramouche rips the letter apart without another second of waiting. pieces of the page drift to the ground and he grits his teeth. "i'm not going to let you leave me."

had scaramouche known you were hurting that bad because of his antics of teasing you, he would've dropped the act immediately. his pride got the best of him and made yet another one of his loved ones leave him. but he'll have time to dwell on that later. his top priority right now, is getting you back.

he sets a course for liyue, not caring whether it'll interfere with his current plan of becoming a God. what use would it be without his lover by his side as you always were? it was originally his plan; to have you there the whole time, and to cut you off was out of the question.

"qiqi, would you indulge in helping me pick more herbs for our friend, (y/n), here?" baizhu asks with a smile as the little zombie looks up at him. she nods, "yes, baizhu. would (y/n) like to come along?" qiqi queries as she looks at you. baizhu places a hand on her shoulder, "it's alright, qiqi. they'll be needing their rest."

you smile, "thank you for asking, qiqi." qiqi nods again and waves, "qiqi and baizhu will be back... with (y/n)'s herbs." baizhu winks at qiqi and qiqi hums. that causes you to blink for a few moments. these two...

"we'll be off. anything you need, you can find in the cabinets over there," baizhu says before leaving with qiqi in tow. as they exit, your mind can't help but linger upon scaramouche. you wonder how his plan is going with haypasia. you sigh and shake your head. it was your fault to begin with, for not noticing the signs sooner, right?

you stand up and decide to take a walk for fresh air. you feel bad for not coming along to pick herbs with the sweet girl and your friend, but you want some time alone. but as soon as you leave the pharmacy, you meet a familiar fatui harbinger.

"scaramouche!" you say in surprise, your eyes wide as you look left and right. said man suddenly grabs you by the wrist and pulls you behind the building. "don't 'scaramouche' me," he seethes, eyes narrowing with anger. scaramouche roughly pushes you against the wall and keeps you there with just his menacing glare.

you fight back the urge to look away, but you can't bring yourself to do so when tears are helplessly flowing down his face. "why would you leave? actually, no, that doesn't matter," he murmurs, looking down to refrain you from seeing the way he cries. "can you come back? i-i promise i won't do anything like that again, so..."

scaramouche slowly lets go of your wrist to wipe at his tears. you solemnly say, "kunikuzushi." in a tender motion, you hold both his hands in yours and he looks up, eyes baring more tears to release. "it's not your fault," you say with the softest voice he's ever heard.

you lift one hand to cup his cheek, "it's okay. if my presence with you is what you truly wish for... i'll do it for you." you smile and scaramouche couldn't contain himself from holding you close and pressing his lips against yours. you clutch at his shoulder and your tears mix with his.

even if it isn't forever, he has you right now. so please, don't leave, as you're the only one he has.

© scaralvr.

[kxttqi]

christmas sickness 。

↪︎ fluff, established relationship

↪︎ gojo satoru x f!reader

↪︎ getting sick on christmas sucks…but not with your loving boyfriend around.

↪︎ a/n: merry early christmas ! i was lowk giggling the entire time i was writing this i love gojo sm

Weeks of anticipation for your favorite holiday had finally come to an end. Snow was softly falling outside of your window adorned with sparkling tinsel. The Christmas tree you had decorated with your boyfriend stood grandly in the corner of the room, the shiny glass ornaments reflecting the twinkling lights situated around the room. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ruin the festive spirit. 

Right? Wrong. 

You woke up to a stuffy nose, sore throat, and a dull headache. Groaning softly, you turned to your side, hoping that the discomfort would magically disappear. But as you attempted to sit up, the ache in your body intensified, making it clear that this was no ordinary morning grogginess. Of course, the universe had chosen this particular day to unleash a relentless cold upon you. You felt a sharp pang of disappointment; all those days of excitement leading up to this moment, and now you were confined to the bed, wrapped in layers of blankets. You grabbed your phone from the table to dial Gojo’s number. He picked up almost immediately.

“Good morning, baby! I’m coming over soon, just need to pack those gingerbread cookies I baked yesterday.”

“Satoru, I’m sick,” you said hoarsely.

There was a moment’s silence, interrupted by a rather violent sneeze on your end. 

“...Screw the cookies, then. I’ll be over in five.”

He cut the call, leaving you to bury your face in your soft pillow. All the decorations seemed to lose their glow; even the elegant angel tree topper appeared to be staring mockingly at you. Five minutes felt like hours, and your spirits were drastically low by the time Gojo came bursting into your room. He looked at you, clad in your reindeer pajamas and surrounded by used tissues.

“You look terrible.”

The remark earned him an angry glare from you. Gojo giggled, throwing himself onto your bed. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead. “You still look adorable. Come on, quit sulking. Christmas isn't cancelled just because you're feeling under the weather."

"That's easy for you to say," you pouted, blowing your nose into a tissue.

Gojo's expression softened as he rubbed your back soothingly. "What can I do?"

You looked at him doubtfully, then shook your head. There was no point asking him; even if there was something he could do, you didn't want to burden him. You weren't going to let his Christmas get ruined just because of you.

"Nothing. I'll be fine."

Your voice was faint, and the way your fingers fidgeted around the tissue only highlighted your unease. A deep sigh left you before you could stop yourself, and when Gojo didn't seem satisfied with your answer, you gave him a tired smile.

"Really. I'm fine," you insisted.

Gojo reached out and gently stroked your cheek. Your eyes lowered, too overwhelmed to face the intense blue stare which was fixed upon you.

"It's Christmas. It's not fair if I have fun and you don't," he said. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Your gaze flitted back to his, and for a while, his eyes studied yours with a searching glint. His mouth broke into a dazzling smile, and the sight made your lips quirk upwards, even though the corners were trembling. His arms slipped around your shoulders. In an instant, you were enveloped by his warmth, and his familiar scent sent a wave of comfort washing over you. Despite everything, the mere sound of his voice had always managed to make you feel safe, and as his arm tightened around you, you nestled deeper into his embrace, resting against his chest.

"Sleep," you answered, closing your eyes. "For about twenty hours."

A loud laugh rang by your ear. You felt him shift beside you. When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of him rummaging through a bag by the side of the bed. He pulled out a box, adorned with shimmering silver wrapping paper and a bright red bow.

"What's this?" you asked, your voice still raspy.

Gojo's smile grew wider as he handed you the gift. 

"Open it and find out."

You carefully tore away the paper, revealing a small white box underneath. Your heart fluttered with anticipation as you lifted the lid, revealing a beautifully crafted snowglobe inside. The glass orb was filled with swirling flakes of snow, creating a mesmerizing winter scene. But what caught your attention was the tiny figure in the center of the snowglobe. It was a miniature replica of Gojo, dressed in a winter jacket and his silver hair perfectly tousled. And right beside him, frozen in a moment of pure joy, was a tiny version of you. Every detail, from the intricate embroidery on your dress to the in gleam in Gojo's eyes, was painstakingly crafted.

"Satoru, this is... amazing," you breathed, your voice filled with awe.

He chuckled, his voice filled with pride. 

"I had it custom-made just for you. And for the record, this was entirely my idea."

“Does it kill you to be humble for once?” you sighed, but couldn’t help the smile making its way onto your lips.

You couldn't contain your excitement as you shook the snowglobe gently, watching the delicate flakes twirl and dance around the figures inside. 

"It's perfect," you whispered. 

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours with an intense urgency that leaves you breathless. The fiery passion in his kiss burned through you, consuming every inch of your body as if he had been waiting for this moment since he stepped foot into your room. His hands gripped your waist with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, his lips moving against yours with a desperate need. You pushed him away softly.

“Satoru, I’m sick, you shouldn’t-”

He cut you off with another kiss, more gentle this time. 

“I couldn’t care less. Let me have this.”

Your protest died in your throat as you melted into his embrace, your hands finding their way to his hair. Despite the lingering discomfort, his touch seemed to numb all your senses, leaving you wanting nothing more than to lose yourself in him. He broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your waist.

"I bet you're feeling better already," he teased, his eyes sparkling.

You rolled your eyes, but the slight blush creeping onto your cheeks betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. He chuckled, his fingers gently brushing away a stray lock of hair from your face.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.