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theoldsports · 8 months ago

Text

SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie

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rosyblooom · 9 months ago

Note

I just finished watching Daisy Jones and the Six and I wanted to ask if you could write a Charles SMAU where his wife passes away from illness and leaves a video behind for him to find happiness. They can have a little child together please. Thank you😊❤️

when i die, i want you to live | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: after battling illness, y/n unexpectedly succumbs to it much sooner than expected, leaving behind her husband and their daughter. 8 months later, charles is not coping very well, so your best friend hands him an envelope addressed to him from you. WARNING(S): mentions of death, sad A/N: ooh i love that show!! anyway, this is my first ever request (!!), so hope it's as u imagined 🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading!! <3

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption 1: I sure hope so!😌 ] [ caption 2: my heart is so full🥹💕 ]

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 735,290 others

charles_leclerc Today, 27 years ago, is the very special day that brought me my beautiful wife and best friend. Forever grateful for that. Happiest of birthdays to you, Mon cœur ❤️

view all 3,958 comments

username HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N WE LOVE YOU😍

username all time favourite wag ! 🥰

yourusername ❤️❤️

(liked by author)

username ly girl🫶

username oh she won😩

username **they. they're both literally perfect omg username nah u right my bad🫡

scuderiaferrari happy birthday y/n 🥳🥳

username if my man ain't like charles i don't want him

username real

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 263,719 others

yourusername had the loveliest birthday with my dearest people!💕thank you for all the birthday wishes, they've been such a joy! 🥹 here's to another beautiful year, here's to 27🥂

view all 2,483 comments

yourbestfriend ily to the moon and back ❤️❤️

yourusername love u so much🥹

username queen🫶

username 27 and still looks young af iktr! see what happens when u're unproblematic😌

username that's bc 27 IS young lol

charles_leclerc belle👸

yourusername 😘 username you guys are so cute omg username *cries in 29 and single*🤧

username girl drop the link to the dress RIGHT NOW @/yourusername

yourusername it's from my spring collection love! xx username you ate that y/n😌

iamrebeccad you look so pretty 💗

yourusername my girl 🤍

Three weeks later...

tmz_tv

liked by username, username, username and 1,005,862 others

tmz_tv Tragic news emerged in the early hours of this morning as Y/N L/N-Leclerc, a renowned fashion designer and philanthropist, passed away unexpectedly, just three weeks past her twenty-seventh birthday. Her untimely passing has left her family and friends in shock and disbelief.

In a statement released by her family, it was revealed that Y/N had been battling illness for an undisclosed duration. However, medical professionals had initially estimated a longer prognosis, making her sudden passing even more devastating.

During this profoundly sorrowful time, we extend our heartfelt condolences to Y/N's family.

views all 18,045 comments

username wow and to think she was always so smiley even with all this going on behind the scenes

username a literal ray of sunshine🥹

username I can't imagine how charles feels right now omg, please take care charlie🫶

username this doesn't feel real...

username y/n was always working with charities all across the globe, she was an absolute angel. her impact will live on 💛

username is it just me who's thinking about their little girl in all this?? she must be so heartbroken :(

username I think bc she's so young she probably doesn't even understand what's going on😭💔

username y/n, you were a great addition to the paddock, always smiling and just all around lovely to fans. we won't ever forget you!💕

username sending prayers to the family 🙏

scuderiaferrari

liked by username, username, username and 594,752 others

scuderiaferrari Due to personal matters, Charles Leclerc will not be continuing racing for the remainder of the season. Ollie Bearman, our reserve driver, will take his place instead.

This was not an easy decision, and therefore we ask that you handle this news with respect and sensitivity.

Our thoughts and support are with Charles Leclerc and his family during this challenging time. 🙏❤️

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8 months later...

Charles enters the living room, ensuring the door closes softly behind him to avoid disturbing his little girl. Running his fingers over his beard, he examines the envelope in his hand and sighs. Y/N’s best friend pressed it into his hand at a dinner party the previous evening, insisting he watch it as soon as he finds the time. And here he is now, holding the thin envelope.

If someone had told him when he was younger that he’d get emotional over something as simple as seeing his wife’s handwriting on paper, he would have scoffed in disbelief. Not him, that would have seemed absurd. Yet here he is, feeling a lump form in his throat over mere black ink on paper.

As peculiar as it seems, he brings the envelope to his nose, and memories of Y/N flood his mind. He can almost feel her soothing touch as she works the knots out of his back after a gruelling day of racing. Inhaling, he feels Y/N’s sweet scent—it is as comforting as her smile.

A smile tugs at Charles' lips as he pictures that infectious grin that lit up his wife’s face at the most unexpected moments. It was one of the things he loved most about her—she had a way of bringing brightness to even the darkest of days.

Shaking his head, he snaps out of the trance, shifting deeper into the living room until he sinks into the welcoming embrace of the couch. There, he retrieves the laptop resting on the coffee table, feeling the weight of the moment as he opens the envelope and extracts a flash drive from within. Rolling it between his fingers, he inserts it into the side of his laptop with a determined motion.

Once all is in place, he watches a file labelled “To my dearest Lover, brightest Heart, and deepest Soul” materialise in his list of files. The sight catches him off guard—his throat constricts, making each breath a struggle, and his eyes well up, though he fights against the tears. Not now. He can't afford it. Allowing himself to be consumed by grief would mean losing precious time, time he needs for his daughter waiting in her playroom down the hallway.

He takes a moment to regain composure, squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his breath until the tension in his chest begins to ease. With a sharp intake of air, he opens his eyes wide and taps the file, revealing a video. Running his teeth over his lower lip, he hovers the pointer over the play button, then taps the mousepad with a steady hand.

The video opens with Y/N seated on the very same pale couch he’s currently occupying. He places both hands onto the soft sofa, yearning for a connection, a way to feel her, even though he knows he can’t—touching the past is impossible.

Y/N walks toward the camera, readjusting it before taking three steps backward and retaking her seat. Inhaling deeply, she hesitates, her mouth opening, then closing again, like a fish out of water.

“Mon cœur,” Charles whispers, moving the laptop onto the coffee table.

“Hmm,” Y/N drops her hands into her lap and smooths down her flowery dress. She stares directly at the camera, tilting her head sideways with a crooked smile. “I don’t know where to start.”

Her eyes widen. “After all this planning, I still don’t know where to begin.” She lets out a few chuckles and then purses her lips. “Well, I suppose greetings are in order?”

Her expression softens as her brows furrow. “Hello, my darling, my world, my everything.”

“Hey,” Charles whispers, his throat tight with emotion, barely allowing sound to escape.

“Although I'm very happy to see you, if you’re watching this, it means you're not living as I want you to,” Y/N's voice trembles, causing her to pause and swallow. “I know it’s hard, baby. I don’t expect this to be easy on you, but I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life looking back at us in sadness, you know?”

Charles leans forward, elbows on his lap, eyes fixed on the screen, his face tinged with a faint shade of red.

“Remember our first date, when we had to cancel our reservations at that restaurant because you felt sick on the way there?” Y/N bursts into laughter but quickly stifles it, her hand covering her mouth.

“No, no,” Charles pleads softly, shaking his head, “please don’t hide your beautiful smile, my love.”

“It’s not like there was anything you could do about being sick, but I remember feeling miffed because I already had a stressful day, so for you to cancel just like that, it irritated me,” she reminisces with a nod. “But you were quite pale, so I wanted to make sure you got home alright. And we walked, barely talked,” she giggles, the joy reaching her eyes, “but then this little kid appeared, his name was…”

“Benny,” they both say simultaneously, a faint smile tugging at one corner of Charles' lips.

"Boy, was he excited to meet you, his idol. It was like seeing a completely different person. You became someone entirely new for this little boy whom you didn’t even know. Nobody forced you to take time out of your day when he came running, his arms wide open," Y/N says, extending her arms along with the words. "You could’ve just walked away. I mean, you had a reason to: you were sick."

Pausing for a moment, Y/N sits up straighter, leaning forward and shaking her head. "But you didn’t. You put on a brave face, and you turned into Benny’s hero and so much more. I think we stood there with his parents for about half an hour, and you didn’t complain once. And that’s when I knew."

Y/N nods, crossing her legs and slinging one hand behind the sofa. "That’s when I knew you could be the man I was going to marry. And turns out you were," she says, smiling sheepishly. "The love you have for people, for our daughter, it’s… it’s so profound, it’s boundless. So don’t limit it. Don’t you dare limit yourself just because I’m not around anymore."

Her expression turns serious as she exhales. “You’re such a bright light. You bring happiness and purity into people’s lives—into my life,” Y/N presses her hand against her chest. “I don’t want you to dim it. I want you to shine for as long as that candle burns. Don’t let it die prematurely because of bad happenings. There’s so much more to love, to live, to enjoy. And while you may not see me at your side anymore, holding onto D/N, I’m right here.”

Charles sniffles, folding his hands over his mouth as he swallows his sobs, while Y/N points to her heart.

“I’m with you forever and always. I’m protecting you and D/N, and I’m watching over you, making sure everything’s alright.” Y/N releases a sigh before chewing at her bottom lip with a wistful smile. “And part of that means making space for more love, for you. You have a big heart, you know? There’s enough room for you to find happiness with someone new. There’s no shame in it, and there’s no guilt in it. It’s what makes being alive such a beautiful thing: your love is yours, and it’s not confined to just one or two people. You can spread it, and still, our love will remain unchanged.”

Tears stream down the sides of Charles' cheeks as he struggles to maintain his composure, his eyes fixated on the screen as if afraid that if he peels his gaze away for one second, his wife will disappear.

Y/N briefly looks off to the side, her attention seemingly caught by something in the room, before snapping her head back to the camera with a bright smile.

“It seems I have to go,” her shoulders sink.

Charles leans forward, the screen mere inches away from his face, as he strokes the outline of Y/N’s face on the screen, whispering desperately, “Please don’t, mon cœur…”

“I love you so, so much. You and D/N are the most precious gifts, the greatest joys I have had the privilege to experience, so please, please,” she claps her hands together, moving them back and forth, “please…when I die, I want you to live.”

Y/N rises from the couch and walks towards the screen, her eyes unwavering for even a moment. “Give my little girl all my love, and kiss and hug her extra tight for as long as you can, for me.”

Offering one final smile, she blows a kiss at the screen. “I love you. Please don’t stop. Don't stop loving and don't stop living.”

The video freezes with Y/N frozen in place, a beautiful smile etched onto her lips, filled with the purest form of love.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Charles collapses, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He drops his face into his hands and releases all of it: sob after sob after sob. There’s something liberating about finally letting go; the burden pours out of him, leaving behind a fragile yet tranquil Charles as he gazes at the still shot of his beloved wife, whom he adores so deeply.

A soft click draws his attention to the door just in time for it to creak open slowly, revealing his little girl standing there, her favourite yellow teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms.

“Papa,” her voice floats like a gentle breeze.

Charles smiles, opening his arms wide as she runs towards him. He's momentarily winded as she reaches him, but he quickly regains his composure and lifts her onto his lap.

“Hello, my love,” he whispers, touching his forehead to hers.

Her tiny hand pats his cheek, her expression filled with concern. “You’re crying?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to reassure her. “Happy tears,” he explains, “look.” He points at the screen, where Y/N's serene face is frozen in time.

“Maman!” D/N exclaims, slipping from his lap and heading towards the screen. Her small hands tap the screen eagerly as she calls out, “Maman! Maman! Maman!”

“Yes,” Charles swallows, ignoring the pang in his chest as he shifts his focus to his little girl. “You want to see Maman, huh?”

He rises from the sofa and lifts D/N into the air, settling her on his hip. “How about we go take a look at the photo albums, okay? There are lots of beautiful pictures of Maman in there, alright?”

“Maman! Maman! Maman!” D/N continues to exclaim, squirming excitedly in his arms as they walk through the door and down the hallway into the living room.

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 14,296 others

f1gossipofficial Nine months after the tragic passing of his wife, Y/N, Charles Leclerc has been spotted for the first time on a beach in Spain with their shared daughter.

Witnesses who captured the photographs above mentioned that he appeared to be coping well, and fans respectfully gave them space while appreciating the sight from afar.

We're glad to see Charles out and about again, and we extend our best wishes to him and his family as they continue to navigate these changes.

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username im so glad the fans kept to themselves

username right?? so respectful🫶

username charlie🥹❤️ it's been so long but we'll always be here whenever he's ready

username tbh I was very worried during the radio silence but I think him being out there is a step in the right direction🥲

username still can't believe y/n is no longer here... i miss her sm😭

username omg there's a vid on twitter of them playing ball and u can hear their daughter giggling 💕

username I can't find it could you pls send the link?🙏 username dmed u! username me too pls

username it must be so hard to grief y/n while also trying to be strong for their daughter :( sending him all the strength!!

username 😭😭😭

4:44 ────────────ㅇ 4:44

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spikebit · 2 years ago

Text

wish i never watched strange days (1995)!

#extremely graphic rape + murder scene that was profoundly upsetting #i'm normally not very affected by that kind of thing but it was incredibly voyeuristic. watching from the killer's pov #it was just too much #anyway it's fine i'm normal again. cried about it a lot though

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sleepy-fiction · 5 months ago

Text

Eleven Weeks

- sebastian solace x gn!reader

syn: Your ex-coworker, Sebastian, suddenly comes back from the dead, completely strange and anew. You go to see him and realize how different he had become since you left urbanshade. Can you accept him as he is now? Will he allow you to?

tags: predator/prey, suggestive but no actual sex, fluff, heavy comfort fic, there are no gendered terms for reader, sebby has an ex-wife (Zaara)

a/n: eleven weeks by vansire was on repeat in my mind as I wrote this! tysmm for the love on my last seb fic, my hearts really gonna burst!! but in this fic seb escaped and is now working w the FBI to build his case. Also to clarify pls this is no diss on zerum

5K WORDS

part 2 for the FREAKS below |

🛋🦈🐍🐋

You remember it.

The soft tan skin, the way his mouth would crinkle up and flash his pearly, straight teeth. You remember the barreling laughter, the prompt scolding. You remember the soggy bags under his eyes, you remember his sullen tears.

You remember it all, because he was human back then.

But now.

Your eyes shake as you stare at him now.

He's large, maybe even ten feet tall now. His large tail takes up almost the entire room; and the "men-in-black" you had to go through just to get to him was proof that this all was real. Sebastian had become something... He became something different.

His skin was no longer beautifully golden, instesd he was now blueish with scales, fins, and tails. He now has three eyes. Three eyed that are no longer those deep and black but abnormally large and blue. And his hands were now three shivering claws, claws that shook intensely, waiting for you to do something - anything.

Say something.

But you took your sweet time inhaling everything about him bit by bit at a time.

Minutes went by of you quietly staring at him, your shoulders tense, your fingers fidgeting together.

Weren't you going to scream?

Weren't you going to cry?

Weren't you going to do anything?

Please do something.

It broke him.

Sebastian abruptly squealed out an intense sob, his large hands covering his lips as he hunched over in shame. The wounded cry came straight from his belly, sounding as if the fiber of his very being was split into twos. He bowed his head more and more, trying his hardest to muffle his sprung cries. You couldn't let him be so alone like this. You, swept up by the bitter sounds, launched yourself forward, grabbing whatever you could reach: the coat sleeve on his smaller arm.

He pawed at his eyes with his large blue claws, and your lip quivered helplessly. He tried to pull away, but it was like the strength in him was gone. The spark, the everything. When you first walked in, he didn't say hello. His face, body, his soul had already lost its vigor. Simply going through the motions.

What should you say?

Your eyes flicker between the ones he covered from you. Your grip on his sleeve grew intense.

You thought he was dead. When the neww broke out of his crimes, you couldn't believe. You couldn't stick around long enough to find out because your contract ended. You couldn't tell anyone back home about anything that happened in Urbanshade at all. You alone had to bear it. Then you heard that a freak accident happened at urbanshade, and everyone died. You were alone.

But God, looking at him, he had gone through it worse. Not just physically.

You swallowed thickly, unable to keep your own tears back. But you smiled. You couldn't help this weird budding joy that sprang up in your chest, fondness that could kill even the sweetest daisies. As morbid as it is to be happy right now, you finally got your buddy back. Your annoying coworker who corrected over your work all the time. He was someone to talk to - someone you could finally console in. Your smile was profoundly big as you gripped onto him.

Sebastian Solace.

You're really back.

Your grip loosened.

"Say something, damn you -" Sebastian couldn't finish his loud, spiteful curses when his eyes finally met your gaze. Your bubbling gaze. You were amiling with glassy eyes, a quiet sort of smile, the kind that makes the air around you taste sweeter. His face twisted in horror, frustration. Why were you smiling? How could you smile at him?

His family couldn't look at him.

His wife.

His own wife shook and trembled, and she cried out in fear of him. Not only that, he had to learn that she and everyone else moved on a go time ago. Worse than that, his sweet wife told him she started a family with another man.

What the fuck was he supposed to do.

He spent all those aching years to break free, hoping for everything to return back - only for it all to be worser out here than in Urbanshade. Back then, at least he had something to hope for, to hold on to.

Here? Nothing.

Mind numbing questions seared through his mind. Why the fuck did he have to suffer like this when he was so badly hurt? Why couldn't she stay loyal? Why did he look this way? Why did they do this to him? Why.

Why is no one accepting him but you?

Why are you being so insufferable.

It made his heart burn. And your soft, secure grip on him made it even hard for him to run away. Did you not want him to leave? His heart is burning with corrupted fondness. He wants you to. To...

To touch him a bit more.

He wants you to look at him a bit more.

He wants you. If you're going to be so kind about it, look at the other weird parts of him with those sweet eyes.

Maybe the more you stare, you'll finally reject him. Confirm to him what the world has taught him. Or.

Or.

Just touch him a bit more.

Don't just stand there.

Don't just--

He suddenly remembers his voice. He croaks out the pitiful plea, "Don't... just. stand. there..."

The voice is commanding and terrifying, and it's proud and angry coming from such a large beast. His he trying to scare you off? If so, it's not working - he'll you barely register his words.

Just the sound of his voice sends your heart fluttering. Sebastian's alive.

You know he's been through so much worse, but.

Is it okay if you are a little selfish right now?

You reach forward, standing high up on your tippy toes to grab his right arm sleeve.

"What the hell are you doing!" He booms.

You pull him into you. He squeaks and cries, "Say something," He yells, loud even to shake your heartbeat. You're much weaker than him, but he falls into your shoulder so easily, like pulling a strayed kitten.

The weight of his head crashes into your shoulder harshly, the feeling a sharp thud, but you balanced it, still on your tippy toes. Your hands slip away from his arms, wrapping themselves tightly around his shoulders. While his neck brushed against your forearms.

"Hey Sebastian," his ears perk up in delight. Your voice whispers dear into his sharp fins, hushed, childishly excited, "Is your heart beating as fast as mine is?"

Yes.

It's beating fast. It's beating so much faster than you know it. His breath exhales with a shivering snap, and he gulps.

You broke him again in an instant.

Sebastian grabs you, all of his hands finding their places on you; your back, your hips, your waist. As he pulls you up high into the air into a deep embrace. You drop all your weight onto him in the hug and nuzzle your nose into his neck. You laugh brazenly. It spikes into the air as your feet swing in the wind.

"Haha! Sebastian! We're so high," You squeaked, holding onto him like some sort of giddy child. Even he can't help but share the giddiness and giggle. You can feel his ears flick against your head.

"And look at you now, you're so big." You tease him, and his face crinkles up in a grin. You pull up to gaze at his face, drumming your fingers against his shoulder. You stare at his face, beaming. Your hands are moving to touch his face, "Three eyed freak," you snicker, "You weren't taller than me before."

His grin bursts onto a beaming smile through his face. "Wow... Wow. Look at you," The tone of his voice is partionizing, enoigh to make you already start laughing. "No class, per usual. I'm not sure as to why I even invited you to see me," he said. His were eyes lidded, his voice freed of any bite. The was hushed and sweet.

Your eyes lidded, too.

He looked sort of...

Handsome, in a way. Right now.

It was weird. Not too shabby for a... mermaid?

You looked away with a gulp. It's just hard not to feel something for someone when they're holding you like this. Like you're some sort of treasure. At least, that's what you told yourself.

"Don't you agree," he purrs. His voice is teasingly delightful. Embarrassment springs up as you back your palms back onto his shoulders. You try to hide your head back onto his shoulder, but he rejects you, pulling you back out to keep you. You swallow. Blood rushes deep to your face, your embarrassed hands playing with the ends of his hair.

"You're flushed," he whispers curtly. You suck in a breath.

"You're holding me like this... Anyone would be," you said.

His third eye twitches.

He grabbed his wife like this, and she screamed. The sound rings deep into his ears. Ah- ex-wife. His face fell bittersweetly, unable to succumb fully to sadness when you're so full of joy.

You're so special.

He smiles brightly again.

Your heart flutters, but it's a weird stutter.

"Ah! Alright, alright, put me down," you yell, beginning to squirm to no avail. "Damn you!" You bang harshly on his shoulders.

"I'm not sure I wanna," he laughed heartily.

"I mean it!" You screech.

🐋🦈🐍🛋

"This your place? The federation hooked you up," you said. When you finally got away, you could finally take a look at his home. It was on a military base, deep underground, behind many iron doors and pass codes. They even gave you a CAT to come on base to schedule visits with him. It took almost about a year to get clearance to see Sebastian.

Did everyone who wanted to see him have to wait this long? Go through so many briefings, sign so many contracts, just to spend 5 alotted hours? You couldn't imagine being him, living like this so alone for so long. Was he just counting down the days until he saw you, just like he did back when you two were teens?

Why did that idea make you feel so content?

"Mmhm. They're spoiling me," he grimaces, and you're pulled from your thoughts.

"What? Don't like feeling like a princess?" you asked.

"It's only because of a case we're building against Urbanshade. That's all." He hums. "I'm not planning on getting used to it."

His home itself and everything within it was large. With high ceiling arches, high doorways with large door handles. Everything is his size, even the chairs and couches. It must've been expensive to make this whole thing. He truly was heavily pampered in here.

"Make us tea," you bark.

"Alright," he said.

You looked back at his tail as he guided you into the kitchen. The slithering thing echoes a low humming sound. It moved so rhytmically, it was so odd. He truly was a snake.

This wasn't your first time seeing him either. In the hundreds of briefings the FBI and the base itself gave you, they got to tell you all about his anatomy, photographs, and health scans. They really wanted you to be comfortable with him, and you can't help but be happy about it. It was hard to fully believe until now. It still was a fresh shock just as the day they tried to make you believe this is what he really looked like now. You wondered if he had met with his family by now. If it went well...

They really took him and his case just as serious as he deserved it to be. These things are typically kept top secret, so maybe they allowed you to see him simply because...

Your think back to his soulless greeting.

Time to step up and be a good friend.

"Hang in there, buddy." You cheer, patting his shoulder with a knowing gaze towards the horizon.

"That's embarrassing," He snips.

Ah.

Typical Sebastian Solace, you comfort him, and he immediately corrects you. You sigh.

You look up at him, finally noticing the way his large little claw was holding your small one. Your face heated again. You look away quickly, gazing throughout his kitchen. Everything was so large, even the counter meets your chin.

"Why don't you go sit on the couch," Sebastian hums. He had a new air around him now, one that was sure and soft. You heard as he shuffled through cabinets the sounds of cups and things clattering around.

"How can I? I have so many questions. Sebastian, how'd you do it? God, you're big now! And, uh... What'd you all day? Was it dangerous?" You asked, your hands finding the whale tail. You stroked your fingers along the scales, stroking it dearly. You felt him shiver, but selfishly, you slid your hands up his dorsal fin and into the beginning of his snake-ish body.

"Well... A lot of it is classified but. I can tell you that I read a lot during my time at Urbanshade," he snickered.

"Well, that's obvious," you muttered as you looked back to his tail, "Hey, is this heavy?" You pressed all your weight against it and then sat down on him.

"Excuse me? What the hell are you doing?" He asks, but the tone is a soft bite. "I'm not a jungle gym," he sighs.

"Yeah, but... Isn't it so cool," you asked.

"So cool?" He grunts.

"A-Ah I'm -"

"No-no. Uh... Hmm... I suppose, after the rage wore off, my body became sort of... Interesting. But still, I'd rather be something a bit more like you... At least... I kind of miss being back shorter than you." He mumbles, sentimental fondness brimming in his voice.

You grin, "Hehe, you used to say a centimeter didn't count."

"It really does now." His tail wraps around you, grabbing you by your hips in a vice. They hold you suspended in the air, your hair hanging down as you face the ground. You squeaked, but he continued, "Come now. Tea's done."

He slithers away with you, not that you care. You giggle and laugh all the way to the couch, suspended in his tail. He plops you down onto the large plush couch and your cheek smush against the cushions in awe. It's so comfortable!

You turn back to him. He laid against the couch long ways, with his tail all perfectly held up by the large couch. All while he rests his elbow against the cushion, peering down at you with relaxed but incredibly intimate eyes. His tea is being held by his mini-hand, and the smoke of it rises to face.

He takes a long, slow sip, his lidded gaze never once breaking from you. You sucked in a harsh breath. He shouldn't look at you like that.

You couldn't help the way your palms got sweaty. The way your heart longed to touch him.

He's so different now. His whale tail pokes your back, almost annoyingly so. You grimance in distaste.

"Hey. Your tea's on the coffee table. Are you even paying attention? Or do you just like looking at me," he says, his voice fluctuating teasingly. But even you took notice of the interest gleaming in his blue orbs.

Your face heats up in both anger and embarrassment, two emotions you've grown incredibly fond of because of him. You "hmph," grabbing your cup and muttering something along the lines of, "you were oogling me too," that falls on authoritarian ears.

But God, you're so aware of his presence that it makes you hard to even take a sip, even though the aroma of chamomile was incredibly fragrant. It has a brilliant color too. Sebastian always had a brilliant eye for tea. "You know," you mumbled as you leaned back against the couch - as well as his tail, "I only started getting into tea after I heard you passed... C-Cause. Cause you'd drink it so much. You always thought you were too posh for us drinking coffee in the morning."

He laughs, a howling sound filled with nostalgia, "Haha! I did, I really did!" He clasped his larger two hands together, rubbing them in an automated smooth motion. Was that a new habit of his?

You couldn't help but beam a joyful smile. "You really haven't changed." You sighed.

An annoyingly dead pant takes his face, but you close to ignore his teasing. It's obvious he's sort of... "new" now. But still damn it! He's the same.

"I- I... You know what I mean."

"Really? Telling the clearly mutated guy th--"

"Shush."

"That you feel--"

"Shut up, god damn you!"

You look away with a huff, turning your whole body to the side to display your protest of his treatment. But he doesn't let you, and his whale tail curls around you. It's big fins redirecting you to face him with a jaunty push. You squeaked, trying to keep your tea from spilling. A ripple goes up his tail, bumping against your body contiously, forcing you to shoot straight up, or else you'll really spill tea all over you.

"What's your deal!" You yell, now on your feet. You don't look at his face, but you can feel the sadistic amusement in his eyes and hear the quiet, humored chuckles mixed into his breath.

"You... You were really thinking about me like that?" He mumbles. "Honoring me in your tea..." He can't spare your gaze, so he flees onto his tea cup.

God, your heart's beating so strongly.

"Of course. Everyone was. Like our section manager, and then Zaara," don't say that name, "your mother, hell even our high-school math teacher... I went by your wife's and mom's homes on occasion- just to see something of you." You mumbled, not noticing the way he tensed at the mention of his wife.

"No one believed you'd do something like that... Even Zaara... She took it hardest out of everyone," You mumbled. He stopped his snakish ripple, but you still took the chance to sit closer to his main, humanoid body, as you sat 2 feet away from it. Still, it felt too far, but you wanted to respect his space.

He looked down at the floor, trying to find something funny to say, but it all failed him.

"Did you hear... About... Zaara?" You whispered, treading softly on sensitive ground.

"Yeah... I heard. She uh... Gave me a picture of her daughter when she... visited me last year," his voice was weak.

"Yeah, little Selena... She's three years old now. Such a big girl," You whispered, staring down at the reflection of yourself in your teacup.

"You know... She couldn't e-even look at me," his voice cracked and groaned out, the sound still like a fresh wound to him.

"Oh god," was all you could manage out. You hunched over to your cup, shutting your eyes deeply. "And your mom?" You whispered, begging for it not to be true.

"It took her a bit, but... She writes me letters. I don't think she can visit me anymore either... It's hard seeing your baby boy so... S-So..." He pauses for a long time before the words finally come out, "C-Changed," he gasps.

Changed.

Change is good.

That's such a selfish thing to say. But.

You'll say it anyways.

"Change can be good. Change can be... H-Handsome," You chuckle, not sure if it was a mixture of your fear, embarrassment, or whatever else.

"You say whatever you want, you know. Don't you care about my feelings? Be gentler, what if you hurt me," his snakish tail pumps you roughly again, direction you to look at him. And you do, but it's filled with a burning, unadulterated fire straight your heart.

You flip your head towards him, leaning in, your hands keeping your tea steady underneath your zeal, "You don't want me to be gentle. Ypu want me to be rough. You want me to treat you like a human, so I will." Your voice is intense. The shiver it produces from him is proof of that.

The silence gives you confidence. You scoot closer, a hand fleeing from your tea to cup the side of his round blue face - he gasps. "You are still incredibly human. And you're still incredibly the same rude, pompous, annoying coworker, Sebastian Solace..." Your words are too intimate, and you know that. Your heart's about to burst, but you know that. You like it, even. You catch yourself, blinking away from him, "T-To me... To me, you're--"

Your face is grabbed harshly, your teacup falls and slips onto the floor, it splatters on your shoes, and it's the first thing you worry about. Not the fact that the new, monstrous frightening Sebastian is pulling you rapidly towards him. Not the fact that four intense claws have you by the face that could crush your entire skull between his palms. Not the face that you were being pulled by your face toward his lips-- No you were worried about wasting his tea, breaking his cup, or if the drink mingles with his carpet.

He pauses right before his lips meet yours, what's the point if within this rapid milisecond, you're not looking at him. He tosses his teacup to the side, the tea within it all gone, and so the clamor of the empty cup finally snaps your eyes towards his, not in fear, but in worry about him- of him.

And so, within the milisecond your eyes meet, He sinks his hands around your tiny body and kisses your lips deeply. You moan and shudder at the feeling, grabbing chunks of his button up, chunks of his collar as you climb greedily into his lap. The feeling of his lips, his mouth, is almost erotically different than kissing a human.

His mouth is colder, bigger, his lips a ragged shape. You'd be lying if the friction didn't send primal shivers down your back. Your human instinct tells you that the mouth of such a large and tenacious predator shouldn't be so near, but God, the friction felt so good.

The shivers were intense, as his pointed teeth poked you carelessly at times. Or when you'd feel the breath from his silt nostrils, the intense feeling of his sharp claws on your body. Primordial fear, nipping at your brain, and you shut it all off, letting the overwhelming situation pool as passionate fire into your suddenly peckish organs below.

Two sensitive people, slurping, lapping, mewling, and huffing into eachothers lips. The sight and sound of it was dirty, sloppy. But you drunk up the sounds of his hungry pants, growls, shivers. Sebastian cracks open his mouth to feed you his gloriously thick and intense tongue.

You slurp it up, welcoming the colder muscle into your hot, moist cavern. The large presence of him inside you is dominating as your fingers twitched against his button-up. He was so needy, was he like you in a way? Unable to get it off since the horrors of Urbanshade? No-- you can't forget. He's gone through it worse, so his need.

You pull back in an anxious shudder. He truly growls then. The sound so animalistic you body gave out, but he held you dear as he pulled you back into the kiss that you know you shouldn't be enjoying so pervertedly.

To him, all of this was your fault.

Saying such pretty words, out of such pretty lips, with such a pleasant voice. Surely, you're aware of how catty you are. Sebastian can't help but think that as he overwhelms your tiny tongue.

He's aware of how beautiful you became over the years. Somethinf he never took noticebto at Urbanshade. He's never been so aware of you. He's aware of you as his arms grab your hips and waist. He's aware of you as his right arm trails up your back to cup your tiny little head. He's aware that your head didn't used to be tiny before his transformation, but he's also aware of how good it is to have so much control over you.

To him, you were being so demanding and selfish and bratty this entire time. His predatory desire to bite you grows as you part for a breath. Sweat beads begin to bubble up on your forehead as you pant at the space between your lips. "Sebastian..." You mewl, he grips your hair and tilts your head back to flash your tantalizing neck muscles.

"You know," he says comanding, "I'm not that same little teen you met when transferred into our school year," you giggled at his words, but he continued, "I'm a man. I'm not only a man. I'm not that same man you went to Urbanshade with - I've evolved. I'm a beast, too. And we beasts have our desires." He growls a bit, the trilling sound mingles with his breath against your revealed neck. You whimper.

"And your breath, your... loud little heart beat. Your lips... Your voice... Your size... It provokes me to sink my teeth in and tear your neck open." He hushes dangerously. God his flirts were getting to you.

"T-The feds are right outside Sebastian," you mewl. "Think you can take them?" You whisper, drawing your hand up and tucking his hair away from his blue-ish face. It's then that you really register how mermaid-ish he had become. You cupped his face again, drawing circles under his under eyes, smoothing out the feeling beneath your thumb pad.

He was cold to the touch, his nose now two little slits. His eyes big big blue orbs, that trailing light bub attached to his head like an angular fish. You had to ask, you couldn't hold it back anymore, not in this moment.

"What are you," you whispered. "I know I read your briefing, but still... How'd they..." You grip chunks of his cheeks.

"I'm uh..." His grip droops as he awkwardly looked to the left. "You want to know now?" He quirks.

"Huh oh uh... I mean. I kinda wanna know." You stutter.

"Well? I-I guess. A little bit of everything. Angular fish, sea snake, whale, shark..." he looked away.

You rose up in his lap, pulling his attention back on you. "That's so p--"

"Are you going to keep killing the mood or... Do you just not want me to fuck you?" He suddenly smirks, and you gasp in horror. He pulls you close to him, purring in your ears, "What? Scared you won't be able to take all of it..." Sultry and slow, teasing.

"W-What... What did... What does that mean..." You don't want to entertain the idea, the possibility.

But his angular mouth creaks open to an even more dangerous grin.

One of his large claws flashes in your face, as he puts two large fingers on your belly button. He presses them there.

You legs almost give out. "Huh?" You stutter.

He looks at you, unwavering, he presses his two fingers against you rougher.

"To here?" You mumble.

"Two what?" He giggles.

"Two- To? Here... O-Oh god."

🐍🐋🦈🛋

#roblox sebastian solace #sebastian pressure #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x reader #roblox pressure #pressure roblox #pressure #sebastian solace #sebastian solace roblox #urbanshade

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