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fangisms · 1 year ago

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lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

#he fell first AND he fell harder #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fluff #idiots in love #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader #cedric #Spotify

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

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best years * fem!driver

growing up in a predominantly male environment, she only ever had two friends she could count on. this is what it was like growing up with oscar and logan.

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: this was so hard to write for no reason

(series masterlist) | (📂 pre-formula 1)

2013

she leans against the wall behind her, fingers nervously picking at the skin around her nails. she’s the only girl in yet another karting race.

around her are countless boys excitedly greeting their friends, some of whom they have not seen in months from the long break. they would only spare her a quick glance before forming their own circles and talking amongst themselves.

she simply sighs and fishes for her phone in her back pocket. she will just pretend to text blythe, who is all the way back home, hours from where she is.

sure, she had plenty of girl friends from karting when she was growing up. but amidst puberty and coming into their own, her friends had simply moved on to other hobbies and interests — one that didn’t involve pouring your heart and soul onto the race track.

so there she stands, all by herself in the corner.

she feels a presence next to her, prompting her to lift her head. there stands a boy with sandy brown hair and his arms folded over his chest. who she will come to later know as oscar. but not just yet.

beside him is another boy, bright blue eyes with dirty blonde hair. they’re engaged in a conversation, paying no mind to the girl sending several messages to her younger sister without a response.

“okay, gather up, please!”

she would wind up making it into the top 30 that race.

“hey, you made it into top 30!” her mother engulfs her in a tight hug and sways side by side. “i’m so proud of you! you did so well!”

“thank you,” she giggles, pulling back slightly to catch some air. her hand reaches around the older woman’s body to wipe the sweat from her top lip. “are we still getting pizza after this?”

her father laughs, throwing his head back. “you never forget a promise, kid.”

“of course!” she cheers, jumping up as she claps her hands. “can i get a hawaiian pizza?”

“absolutely,” her mother beams, squeezing her on the chin followed by another hug.

she sighs and throws her head back, appreciating the sun that barely burns her skin. she scratches her head and gathers up her hair to pull it into a ponytail.

looking around, she locks eyes with somebody — the same boy from earlier with the sandy brown hair. he’s got the most charming smile, sending it her way along with a thumbs up.

blood rushes to her cheeks as she returns him a thumbs up and a courteous nod.

then he turns away, whisked away by his parents.

2014

“you’re only saying that cause i beat you on the track again,” she answers nonchalantly with an eyeroll. she folds her arms over her chest, scanning the boy head to toe. “it’s okay to lose to girls sometimes. it’s rare, i know, yet here i am.”

“an absolute fluke,” the boy scoffs at her, cheeks red in frustration and fists clenched by his side. “my dad says there’s no space for girls on the racetrack.”

“oh, really? say that to my top 10 finish and you barely making the cut,” she spits, anger lacing every word. “loser.”

his jaw drops. “hey, take that back!”

“bite me,” she grins, “you loser.”

his arm is barely able to land a hit on her shoulder when he stumbles back, a bigger figure blocking her from the frustrated kid. she barely flinched, now shocked at the something that separated her from a minor injury.

“hey, piss off, will you?”

“whatever, dude.”

her saving grace turns around, a small welcoming smile on his face. it’s someone she recognises — slowly becoming a familiar face for her every time she’s on for a karting race. “are you alright?”

she huffs, her fists now clenched by her side. “i had that covered. i didn’t need your help.”

he gives her a tired stare, obviously not biting into her words to be edged towards an apology. he just smiles again. “i know, but i thought i’d end it before a fight happened.”

“what if that’s exactly what i wanted?” she asks, an eyebrow raised as her hands rests on her hips. “you don’t know that.”

“don’t bother,” he chuckles, glancing at the ground before lifting his head to look at her again. “‘grats on the top 10 finish today.”

she narrows her eyes down. “thank you.”

“oscar, by the way,” he says again, hand stretched out toward her.

“(y/n),” she nods at him with a forced smile. she drops both of their hands. “you’re tough to race, oscar. sometimes i just wanna crash into you with my kart.”

“i get that a lot, thank you,” he grins. he points behind her, prompting her to turn around. “the blonde over there’s my friend. that’s logan.”

she nods. “i’ve seen you guys together a couple of times.”

“we go to school together.” oscar pauses. “hey, logan! come over here!”

the blonde, logan, whirls around and jogs over to them without a question. he approaches them with a grin. “oh, hey! you’re the one that passed me earlier! you’re quick.”

“thank you, i like making boys cry.”

“i never said you made me cry.”

“you may as well have.”

“maybe next race if you can do it again.”

“oh, i’ll bet on that!” she grins, giving him a knowing stare.

logan smiles down at her. “we’re going to get pizza after this. do you want to join oscar and i?”

and the rest is history, as they say.

2015

"get off your homework, man," she groans, dragging her feet to where oscar sits on her table. she shakes the boy lightly, but not enough to mess up what he's writing, and pops her head to his side. "i'm itching to go get ice cream."

"let me finish my homework. my mum will kill me," oscar sighs, attempting to wave off the girl from him. "give me like 15 more minutes."

"you said that 1 hour ago," logan says, words muffled by the pillow he's got his face smushed up against. "i'm hungry, dude."

a knock lands on the door before it creaks open, turning the heads of two of three people who rest in her bedroom.

"dalton, dude!" logan grins, patting the empty spot on the bed next to him. "you're home! how was school?"

"i learned math today," the young boy excitedly answers, running over to the american with a giddy grin on his face. he jumps onto the bed, only to be promptly pulled away by his older sister.

"i told you to learn how to knock, dalton," she says in a tired voice. "and take off your shoes before coming into my room. remember?"

dalton looks up at her, wide eyes and lips parted as he tries to remember her words. he nods, bending down to tear off the velcro from his shoes. "i'm sorry, (y/n)."

"that's okay," she smiles, patting his head. "just don't do it again, okay?"

he nods, before hurriedly jumping onto the bed. this time, logan has the blankets up before engulfing the small kid under it with a bear hug. "what kind of math did you learn today?"

"addition," dalton mutters. he turns to look at oscar, who has yet to acknowledge his presence. "oscar."

"hi, dalton," he mutters, head resting in his palm as he focuses on the paper in front of him. "give me a minute, kid. i'll talk to you later, okay?"

"not okay," dalton huffs, arms folded over his chest. he leans into logan's knees and drops his head on the mattress. "i'm hungry, (y/n)."

she grins. "we've got to wait for oscar to finish his homework before we can go get food."

oscar sighs. he drops his pen on the table, turning around to face the room. "i guess i can take a break."

he gives her a knowing grin, rolling his eyes when she proudly smiles at him. he's always had a soft spot for dalton, the small boy filling up the sibling-shaped hole in his heart. "what do you feel like having, kid? ice cream?"

the young boy jumps on logan, prompting the loudest yelp to pass his lips. his arms wrap around dalton as they roll off the bed. logan launches him in the air and catches him immediately, a loud giggle bouncing off the walls of the girl's bedroom.

"i want spaghetti!" dalton cheers. "but you have to make it for us, oscar!"

oscar sighs again. he drops his head. "okay, i'll make some spaghetti."

2016

"happy birthday, (y/n)!" the door swings open, hitting the wall with a thud.

immediately, the girl shoots up from her bed, hair a mess with both of her eyes still closed. "man, what the fuck!"

she rubs her eyes, only to be met by the smug grins of her friends as they saunter into her bedroom with cake in logan's hands and two wrapped boxes in oscar's.

"we said happy birthday," logan says through gritted teeth, "say thank you."

"what time is it?" she groans, pulling the blanket up to her stomach. "isn't it a little too early for you to be terrorising me?"

"1pm is not early," oscar shakes his head in disappointment. "i texted you to be ready by 1! we're catching a movie, remember? we're supposed to go catch mockingjay in theatres."

she frowns. "i'm sorry. i went out with my girls last night," she explains, slowly moving to the edge of her bed. "i can be ready in 15 minutes."

logan holds the cake to her face. "enough yapping. the candle's about 5 seconds from merging with the cake i spent so hard to find," he sighs. "make a wish, scrub."

she looks up at them, daggers thrown just through her glare. she blows out the flame as her two friends cheer softly for her, oscar clapping before patting her shoulder. "okay, let's go catch our movie."

she holds her hands out to the boxes in his hands. "presents first."

2017

"hey, where are you?" oscar's face fills up her phone screen, eyebrows furrowed as he navigates the crowd in the mall. "are you not coming early for the race?"

she bites down on her lip and looks down, briefly avoiding oscar's stare. "i'll still be coming. just not so soon."

"what?" oscar's voice squeaks in disbelief, truly not believing what he's hearing from his friend. "but we always get ice cream before the race. why didn't you tell us you were ditching?"

"it was last minute, i'm sorry," she frowns, glancing at the boy standing next to her. "i'll just see you guys there."

oscar's face immediately drops. "oh, you're with your boyfriend?"

she rolls her eyes. "yes, but i'll still be there for the race. what's the big deal?"

oscar shrugs. "nothing, mate. i'll just see you on the track, (y/n)."

"hey, what is your problem?" she calls out, head tilting at his sudden coldness. "i've got other people to be with besides you and logan, you know. i have other friends too."

"friends, maybe i understand. but this guy?" he chuckles, rubbing his chin as he tries to sympathise with her. he really tries, but it's difficult when the older boy has made his best friend's life miserable in the past 3 months and she's done is defend him.

"mate, come on. be serious. he won't stick around forever - he's a guy."

"you're a guy."

"and i've never ditched you for a girl, have i?"

"i'd understand if you did."

"well, i'm not flakey," oscar spits at her, glaring at her through the camera on his phone. "i'll see you later."

his face disappears, the home screen of her phone now the only thing staring at her with the silence in her living room. she sighs and drops her phone onto the couch next to her.

"you alright, babe?"

she nods weakly, but her heart races in her chest. she's always been very headstrong and stubborn with oscar, but this was the first time he's ever shown a sign of frustration with her.

as deadpan as he usually is, her chest weighs down on the implication this young relationship could have on a friendship that's been going on for years.

"yeah, i'm fine."

"it sucks, i know," logan sighs, patting her head. he's leaned back against the wall, sitting up as she cried into his chest. "we're only 16 - this won't be the last guy you'll be with."

this only made the girl cry harder into his chest. truthfully, he's got no idea what to do. comforting crying people has never been his forte; being more on the sensitive end himself.

"i'll beat him up, though, if you'd like," logan offers lightheartedly. this is progress, at least, cause it made her giggle for a second before she resumed her sobs. "i can take him in a fight."

"don't do that," she laughs through her tears, "yet."

"i'll even take oscar with me."

"no... oscar's mad at me."

"he's not mad at you, (y/n)."

"but i told you that fucker was no good," an australian accent falls upon the room, making her lift her tear-stained face up to look at him. "i hate to be the one to say that to you."

"fuck off," she sobs, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "i already feel like shit."

oscar nods, but he does sit on her other side. sandwiched by the two guys, oscar just fishes for something from his bag. presented to them, three separate pints of ice cream with spoons.

she smiles, passing down the other pint to logan. but she doesn't say anything to the australian who's already opened up his share and has started eating.

she just presses her back to the wall behind her and looks ahead. she digs her spoon into the dessert. "i saw logan with a girl in the hallway the other day."

"hey, what the hell!"

2018

she holds up her phone, grinning to herself as she takes a video. she runs over to the boy zipping up his race suit. "oh, my god! it's logan sargeant, sir! can i have a couple seconds of your time for an interview?"

"(y/n), you made it!" he laughs, wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. "oscar should be around here somewhere."

"i wouldn't miss your first race, of course," she states matter-of-factly with an eye roll. she squeezes his side and leans in as he presses his lips to her cheek. she puts her phone into her pocket. "i'm always your biggest fan."

"you're the president of my fan club, right?" his eyes light up, teasing her as he rests his arm on her shoulder. "i wouldn't accept my fan club if it wasn't you running it."

she shrugs. "maybe, but i'm gonna need you to set me up on a date with max fewtrell."

"i thought you wanted to go out with charles leclerc?"

"he's got a girlfriend."

"i think max has got a girlfriend too," logan chuckles, simply amused by her presence. "tough luck, dude."

"man, i might just die an old maid," she drops her head with a frown.

"oi, what are you doing? the race is about to start," oscar scolds, hands held out as he scolds his friends. he looks at her, eyeing her up and down once more. "you're not dressed yet! it's your first race in a car. let's go, mate!"

"i didn't wanna seem so excited," she shrugs, "i don't know."

"well, there won't be a race if you're not dressed in your race suit, idiot," oscar scolds, pushing her towards the further end of the garages. "come on, i have to beat you again today. my race won't be complete if i don't."

"absolute bitch," she mutters, glaring at the two boys as she walks away. "i'll see you guys on the track - remember to look in your rearview mirror for me."

2019

the three sit in a circle, on her carpeted floor once more. "i'm sorry you didn't get a seat in f3, (y/n)," logan sighs, dropping his head in disappointment. "i can't believe it."

"it's okay." she leans back on her bed and sighs, dropping her head as well. she lifts it up again with a forced smile. "i'll watch you guys all the time, i swear. i'll be your biggest fan."

oscar shakes his head. "you'll get a seat. the season hasn't started yet - someone will pick you up."

she frowns, putting her hand on oscar's knee. "it's okay, oscar," she says softly.

how touching is it to have friends who care about your progression in a sport where you're meant to be selfish?

"you deserve a seat more than anyone i know," he sighs, pulling his legs up into his chest. he rests his chin on his knee. "it's not fair. they're overlooking you. you're so good on the track."

"not better than you, though," she jokes.

he looks at her from the side of his eye. his disappointment never leaves, "you could wind up being better than me. come on."

"there's not a lot of space for girls like me in a sport like this," she smiles slightly, squeezing his knee. "it's okay. i'll be at every single race cheering for both of you. i promise."

oscar furrows his eyebrows, still shaking his head. he's got 3 sisters - he'd be bummed if they were to pour their heart and soul into something and not have the same opportunities.

if he could, he'd simply flip the world upside down.

"don't give up, okay?" he moves his head, now cheek on his chin as he looks at the girl with hopeful eyes. "promise me - you'll be in an f1 car someday with us on tv. racing it out in the pinnacle of motorsport."

"obviously," she grins. "i won't ever let logan beat me."

"now, this is why you didn't get a seat, dude," logan jokes, exchanging a smack on the knee with the girl. "fix your attitude."

"i bet you're glad that i didn't get a seat - i'd beat you over and over in an f3 track."

"you'd have to get a seat to prove that, (y/n)."

2020

"i got you the seat!" oscar jumps onto her bed, grinning ear to ear. he squeezes the girl on her laptop, her head craned slightly to look at him. "you're going to be in formula 3!"

"what did you say?"

"you're going to be racing in formula 3 for the 2020 season, you idiot!" he screams, taking the laptop from her thighs. he closes it gently and puts it down on the ground. "dude, catch up faster!"

her eyes widen as the gears in her head slowly process what the australian has just bestowed upon her ears. her nose scrunched as a piercing scream slowly erupts from her mouth.

she stands on her knees on her bed, holding oscar's arms. "if this is a prank, i'm going to turn you into pastry!"

"it's not, i got you the seat in formula 3!" he screams, shaking her vigorously, jumping on her bed. "dude, you're a step closer to formula 1! i told you to never give up!"

"what do you mean, i never stopped racing!" she says amidst her screams, shaking oscar back as the adrenaline starts to pump through her veins. "i cannot believe it! i'm going to be in a formula 3 car!"

"yeah!" oscar jumps off his bed. "come on, let's go get drinks with logan! he's coming over with a couple of beers!"

she hops off the bed, her body going into his. they stumble back a couple of steps, oscar's back hitting the door with a thud. "dude, we can't just celebrate with a couple of beers. let's go to the club!" she shrieks, smacking his chest.

oscar tilts his head, lips pressed together. "are you sure? you're kind of uncontrollable in the club..."

"yeah, but i have the right to be tonight!" she rolls her eyes, "i just got promoted to formula 3!"

2021

"this formula 2 crap is easy," she mutters, taking her helmet off her head. she trudges towards the two in the red race suits, her balaclava also flinging off her head. "come on, oscar."

"oh, shut up," oscar laughs, wrapping an arm around her. "good job beating me for the first time."

"i made it my life's mission, actually," she whispers, dropping her head. she smiles, throwing her head back to look up at her two friends. "god, this feels amazing!"

"oh, i owe you 50, don't i?" logan frowns at oscar, hands on his hips. "i can't believe she beat you before the season ended. you growin' soft, piastri?"

"i just thought i should let her have one glimpse at beating me before i proceed to do it the rest of our lives," oscar snorts with a smug grin as he looks down at her. "feel it while you can, (y/n)."

she frowns up at him. "i'll beat you for real someday, pastry. i've done it once today, and i'll do it again."

he nods with a proud smile. "don't let that fire go out, dude."

2022

"oh, hold the front door!" she screams into the phone, turning around to smack oscar's shoulder. oscar, who was sitting quietly on her dining table, eating the spaghetti he's prepared for her household. "are you joking, mate?"

logan tilts his head at oscar, only receiving a similarly confused shrug from the australian boy. they both glance at her, confused, at her sudden scream amidst their dinner debrief after having not seen each other for a couple of weeks.

"there's no way! sebastian vettel said that about me?" she screams, smacking oscar's shoulder again.

"oh, you're kidding!" oscar grunts, smacking her hand from his shoulder. she doesn't react towards him, just jumps away to her living room with the phone still on her ear.

"you reckon she's scored a dinner with sebastian vettel with that reaction?" logan teases softly, pointing at the girl rambling away on the phone. "i've got my money on that."

oscar shakes his head. "maybe lewis hamilton through sebastian vettel."

they hear her heavy footsteps approaching the dining area. she simply drops her phone to the smaller table next to her, coming in slightly paler than they'd last seen of her a few seconds prior.

her lips slowly creep and spread into a grin. "i've been promoted to formula 1," she says breathily, her hand coming up to rest on the door frame behind her. she takes another deep breath. "sebastian's going to be race engineer in the 2023 season."

and all hell broke loose in the dining area that night.

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology

#oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x you #logan sargeant x you #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 #f1 fem!driver #female driver #formula 1 female driver #formula 1 fem!driver #formula 1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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verstappensrealwife · 7 months ago

Text

My Race Winner - Lando Norris x Reader

fluff, smut.

approx. 1200 words

warnings: sex...

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Your knuckles turned bone-white as you clutched your fists tightly, the intensity of your grip a physical manifestation of the emotions churning within. From the moment Lando, your cherished boyfriend, surged into the lead, you became ensnared in a whirlwind of hope and apprehension, clinging to the edge of your seat with bated breath.

With each passing moment, the gap between Lando and his competitor, Max Verstappen, widened, a visceral testament to his dominance on the track. What began as a slender one-second advantage burgeoned into a nerve-jangling two, then three... until the chasm yawned wide, stretching to an agonizing eight seconds between Max and the man you held dear.

Every heartbeat echoed like a drumroll in your chest, each pulse a relentless reminder of the stakes riding on this race. You poured every ounce of your being into willing Lando onward, a silent prayer uttered with every fervent beat of your heart, beseeching the racing gods for his triumph.

Anticipation coiled like a serpent in your belly, mingling with the icy tendrils of fear that threatened to ensnare your thoughts. As the final lap unfurled before your eyes, you were ensconced in a maelstrom of emotions, caught in the tumultuous currents of exhilaration and trepidation.

Every turn of the track became a crucible of tension, each corner a crucible where hopes soared and fears faltered. The harsh mixture of roaring engines and screeching tires filled the air, a symphony of speed and adrenaline that reverberated through your very soul.

With every twist and bend of the circuit, you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of ecstasy and despair, the line between victory and defeat blurring in the haze of adrenaline-fueled passion. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, time stretching and warping as you clung to the edge of your seat, consumed by the drama unfolding before you.

But then, in a blaze of glory, Lando surged across the finish line, his victory a triumphant crescendo that shattered the tension like a thunderclap. HE JUST WON!

A primal roar of jubilation erupted from your lips, an explosion of unbridled joy that reverberated through the air. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the fact that the love of your life had emerged victorious, his triumph a beacon of light in the darkness.

As Lando leaped from his car, his victory celebrated by the crowd and his team, his gaze sought yours amidst the chaos. Tears of pride and elation welled in your eyes as you watched him, your heart swelling with love and admiration. Without hesitation, you rushed into his arms, the force of your embrace nearly toppling him over as you enveloped him in a fervent hug.

"You won!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion as you held him close.

"I did!" he replied, his own excitement mirroring yours as he returned your embrace with equal intensity.

A squeal of delight escaped you before you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I'll let you have your way with me later, race winner." The promise hung in the air, charged with the electricity of anticipation, before you whisked him away for further celebrations before the podium.

The adrenaline rush of victory still surged through Lando's veins as he practically bounded down the stairs after the podium ceremony, his eagerness palpable as he urged you towards the awaiting taxi with an infectious enthusiasm. The thrill of triumph painted his features with a radiant glow, his eyes alight with anticipation for the intimacy that awaited you both at home.

Efficiently dismissing and thanking everyone who congratulated him, Lando took your hand in his, leading you out of the bustling venue and into the waiting taxi. Each step seemed charged with anticipation, the air electric with the promise of the passionate reunion that awaited you both.

As the taxi pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours, the world outside transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of motion. Inside the cab, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, every moment stretching out into infinity as you both eagerly anticipated the intimate moments you would share behind closed doors.

The journey felt like an eternity, each passing second marked by the pounding of your heart and the soft hum of the taxi's engine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you stole glances at each other, the tension between you palpable as the anticipation mounted with each passing mile.

Finally, you arrived home, the key card in hand trembling with anticipation as you fumbled to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open, revealing the familiar haven of your shared sanctuary bathed in warm, welcoming light.

Stepping inside, the world outside fell away, replaced by the sanctuary of your private retreat. The air was heavy with anticipation as you found yourselves locked in a passionate embrace, the heat of your desire igniting like a flame between you.

Clothes were shed with reckless abandon, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom where you both collapsed onto the bed, consumed by the urgency of your longing. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

His touch was like a bolt of lightning, each caress sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine, igniting a symphony of sensation that reverberated through every fibre of your being. With tender reverence, he explored every inch of your body, his hands tracing a map of desire as he worshipped you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

Each kiss was a flame, fuelling the inferno of passion that blazed between you, igniting a wildfire of longing that threatened to consume you both. In the heat of the moment, time seemed to lose all meaning, the world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With deliberate slowness, he entered you, savouring the exquisite sensation of your bodies melding together in a seamless union of flesh and spirit. Each thrust was a declaration of love, a testament to the deep connection that bound you together, the rhythm building to a crescendo of ecstasy that left you both trembling with longing and breathless with desire.

You were a babbling mess, not knowing how to speak, what to say if you could, it was a lot and it was overwhelmingly sensual and passionate.

Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep you away in a sea of bliss. In that transcendent moment, there was no past, no future, only the blissful present of being together, lost in the rapture of shared passion.

As he collapsed against you, spent and breathless, you cradled him close, cherishing the weight of his body against yours. With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, gazing into his eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

"My race winner," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress as you held him close. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were home, your hearts beating as one in perfect harmony, a silent affirmation of the love and joy you shared in that tender moment of afterglow.

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anniebeemine · 4 months ago

Text

isn't that sweet?*- s.r. x fem!reader

i’m working late, 'cause i’m a singer

warnings: oral sex (fem. receiving), slight voyeurism

The studio was dimly lit, the soft glow of the mixing board casting long shadows against the walls. You stood in the recording booth, headphones snug against your ears, adjusting the mic one last time as you prepared to lay down another track. This album was different—more personal, more intimate than anything you’d ever done before. And that was because of him.

Spencer sat on the other side of the glass, his gaze fixed on you as you shifted from one foot to the other, finding your rhythm before the music began. He was seated next to your producer, who was quietly conversing with the sound engineer, but Spencer’s focus never wavered. His presence was constant, steady and comforting, as you prepared to pour your heart into the microphone.

This album was a reflection of your life over the past year—every song, every lyric, a piece of the story you shared with Spencer. From the first tentative dates where you both stumbled over your words, nervous and unsure, to the quiet nights spent curled up on the couch, watching old movies, your heads resting against each other. Those memories, those moments, were what fueled your creativity.

You’d written about the way his fingers intertwined with yours during a late-night walk, how he always made you feel like the only person in the world when he looked at you. The way his eyes would light up whenever he got lost in a ramble, explaining some obscure fact or statistic with a passion that made your heart swell.

And then there were the nights where the world outside ceased to exist—the ones where you’d stay tangled in bed long after the sun had risen, whispering secrets and sweet nothings, your bodies and souls completely intertwined. The songs that emerged from those moments were the most vulnerable, the ones that spoke of love in its rawest, most passionate form. They were the songs that made you blush when you sang them, knowing that each note and word was a reflection of the intimacy you shared with him.

As the instrumental intro played through your headphones, you closed your eyes, letting the music wash over you. The melody was soft, almost dreamy, and you knew it would resonate with Spencer. It was the same melody you had hummed absentmindedly during one of your many nights in, the sound lulling him to sleep as you played with his hair.

You started to sing, your voice soft and controlled, carrying the emotion of the lyrics. The song was about a specific night—a night where time seemed to slow, and every touch, every whisper, felt like it was magnified. You had written it as a lullaby of sorts, a tribute to the quiet, peaceful moments you’d shared, the ones that felt like a sanctuary from the world.

The song came to an end, and you let the last note linger in the air before you pulled the headphones off, stepping away from the mic. The room was silent for a moment, the weight of what you’d just recorded settling over everyone.

Your producer leaned forward, a look of approval on his face. “That was perfect. I think we’ve got it.”

You gave a small, relieved smile, but you didn’t move from where you stood. The producer and sound engineer began gathering their things, the producer casting a knowing glance between you and Spencer. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Just lock up when you’re done,” he said. “Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you and Spencer alone. The silence stretched on for a moment before Spencer pushed the button on the console to speak through the speakers into the booth.

“Is there something else you want to record?” he asked, his voice gentle but curious.

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the edge of the mic stand as you looked at him through the glass. “There is… but I’m really embarrassed to do it in front of other people,” you admitted, your voice just above a whisper, even though you knew he could hear you clearly.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly. “Embarrassed? Why?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It’s… it’s a song I wrote. It’s about… well, about us. Specifically, about our… sex life.” You could feel your face heat up as you spoke, averting your eyes to the floor. “My producer suggested adding some… um, moans in the background, but it’s really awkward to do it in front of anyone else.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly composed himself, understanding washing over his features. “So… you want me to stay and just press record and stop for you?”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief at his understanding. “Yeah. I can’t do it with them here, but… I trust you. It’s just, every time I try, it either comes out flat or too breathy. I’m too in my head.”

Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

He walked over to the console, settling into the chair that the sound engineer had vacated, his fingers hovering over the controls. You adjusted the mic, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself before you spoke again. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Spencer pressed the record button, and you began. The first few attempts were rough, your voice coming out boring and flat, lacking the emotion you wanted to convey. Each time, you stopped, shaking your head, frustration building as you couldn’t quite get it right. Spencer patiently stopped the recording each time, offering you encouraging smiles, but the tension was mounting. After a few more failed tries, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous giggle, breaking the tension in the room.

“This is so awkward,” you admitted, laughing softly as you looked at Spencer, who chuckled along with you.

“You’re overthinking it,” Spencer said, his voice warm and reassuring. “Just relax. I’ll even turn around.”

You nodded, appreciating his understanding, and tried again. But this time, the frustration only grew. The sounds were either too forced or completely flat, and each attempt left you feeling more and more tense. Finally, you let out a groan of frustration, stepping out of the booth to grab a bottle of water, trying to unwind.

Spencer watched you as you sipped the water, his eyes thoughtful. “I think I know a way to help you get authentic moans,” he said after a moment, his voice low and careful.

You blinked at him, trying to piece together what he was suggesting. At first, you were hesitant, not quite believing what he was implying. But the way he looked at you, his eyes full of that familiar warmth and affection, made it clear. He was serious.

“Spence…” you started, your voice trailing off as you considered it.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. “There are no cameras in here,” he reminded you, his voice soft. “And I’ll be very, very quiet.”

You felt your heart race as his words hung in the air, a mix of nervous excitement bubbling up inside you. Before you could respond, Spencer leaned in, his lips gently brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The heat of his touch, the familiar taste of his lips, sent a shiver down your spine.

His kisses grew deeper, more insistent as he pressed closer, his hands finding their way to your waist. You could feel his breath against your skin as he began trailing kisses down your neck, his lips soft and deliberate. Each kiss left a trail of warmth in its wake, a persuasive argument in itself.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as he reached a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. The sensation made your knees weak, and you found yourself leaning into him, craving more of his touch.

His hands moved up to cradle your face, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your neck. “Just relax,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated against your skin. “Let me help you.”

His lips continued their journey, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone and up the side of your neck, sending waves of heat through your body. With each kiss, he was chipping away at your hesitation, replacing it with something far more potent: desire.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his mouth on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It was impossible to think about anything else, the world outside the booth fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped up in this moment.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice a tender caress.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. The nervousness was still there, but it was tempered by the undeniable pull you felt toward him. “I think… I think I’m ready,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Spencer smiled, his hands gently squeezing your waist in encouragement. “Good,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. “I have an idea.”

You watched, curious, as he moved around the room, grabbing a few of the equipment boxes stacked nearby. He brought them into the recording booth, carefully setting them up beneath the microphone. You followed him inside, your heart racing as you tried to piece together what he was doing. It wasn’t until he started arranging the boxes like a makeshift seat that you began to realize his plan. Your eyes widened slightly as the realization dawned on you—he was setting up a throne for you, right beneath the microphone.

Your mouth went dry as you processed the implications, your body buzzing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Spencer was always full of surprises, but this...this was something else entirely.

He caught your expression and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Trust me,” he said, his voice low and soothing. With a practiced ease, he shrugged off his cardigan, folding it neatly before draping it over the makeshift seat. He looked at you, his gaze warm and steady, before gently guiding you to sit down.

You hesitated for a moment, the intimacy of the situation sending a flush of heat through you, ending right at your core. You clench around nothing. But the way Spencer looked at you, the quiet confidence in his eyes, made it impossible to resist. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the makeshift throne, the softness of his cardigan cushioning you.

Spencer knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you. The sight of him there, gazing at you with such intensity, made your breath hitch. He gently parted your legs, his hands warm against your skin as he settled himself between your thighs.

“I want you to focus on the sensations,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “Forget everything else. Just think about us.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your inner thigh. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, your entire body attuned to his every movement. You felt his fingers loop around the sides of your underwear, pulling them down.

“Aren’t you glad you wore a skirt?” He teased.

You nod, closing your eyes to hopefully forget the fact that you’re in your workplace and anyone could walk in at any moment. Spencer kissed your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider. You can feel the cool air run over you and your soaked core. His tongue traced a line along your folds. You gasped, writhing beneath him. Spencer wastes no time in using his hands, circling a finger around your entrance as his lips find your clit. He wraps his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking lightly.

You moan lowly, your fingers finding his hair to give him a harsh tug. He looks up at you, relishing in the way your eyes are screwed shut, little pants leaving your lips. He lets his fingers slide into your pussy, pumping slowly as he kitten licks at your clit.

“Fuck.”

He smiled against your cunt and you just know that he’s come up with some cocky comment that he’s dying to say. You finally open your eyes and almost cum at the dazed look in his eyes. The hand that was on your thigh came up to cup your breast, sliding his way under your shirt. Spencer’s eyebrows perk when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra.

You wink at him, a smug smile forming on your lips. He pushes his fingers deeper. The action makes your thighs flinch, closing in on him for a moment before you relax again. Spencer hums against you, his lips sucking generously at your clit before his tongue massaged it in teasing little circles.

Spencer continued his relentless, expert pace, every flick of his tongue and gentle suck driving you closer to the brink. The sound that escaped your lips was a soft moan, barely more than a whisper, but it filled the recording booth with a delicate echo that made Spencer smile against you.

As his tongue circled and teased, the moan grew into a breathier, more desperate sound. “Spence,” you panted, the word tumbling out in a ragged exhale. Your hands clutched at his hair, urging him on, your breath catching in your throat as he continued.

The next moan was louder, more drawn out, vibrating with the tension building inside you. It was a sound of pure need, of surrender, and Spencer relished every note of it. The intensity of what he was doing made you lose all sense of composure; your breaths came quicker, more shallow, and each exhale carried a gasp, a whimper, a plea.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he pushed you further, his name falling from your lips again and again. Every moan, every pant was a symphony of rising desperation, a crescendo of need that you couldn’t hold back.

Your back arched involuntarily, pressing yourself closer to him, and the moans turned into broken cries, the kind that left your throat raw. “Spence, I—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, the words lost in a strangled moan that was half sob, half ecstasy.

The sounds coming from you were almost primal now, a mixture of keening whimpers and breathless pants, each one more desperate than the last. You were close—so close—and it showed in every pant, every strained moan that escaped your trembling lips.

And Spencer kept going, his own breath coming in short, heated bursts as he listened to every sound you made, each one spurring him on, relishing the way he was drawing these noises from you. It was like music to his ears, a melody he never wanted to end, as your moans grew louder, more frantic, until you finally tumbled over the edge, your voice breaking in a long, shuddering cry of release.

Spencer sat back, a smug grin playing at the corners of his lips as he wiped his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. He started to rise, heading toward the control panel. “I’m going to hit record. I’ll be back in a second.”

You blinked, still catching your breath, and reached out to stop him. “Wait… you didn’t already record that?”

He turned to you, that same smug smile deepening. “Of course not,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “A good vocalist always warms up first.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re something else, Spencer Reid.”

He leaned in, his voice low and dripping with confidence. “Besides,” he added, his tone playfully serious, “I think this next take is going to be a hit.”

And he was right.

When you showed Spencer the plaque for the double platinum record, his eyes lit up with pride. “So,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “are you going to give me writing credit for this?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I think we can keep that our little secret.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic #spencer reid smut #thats that me espresso

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

JJK men after hurting (y/n)

Pairing: Choso x reader; Gojo x reader

Word Count: 4,7k (Gojo's part is huge)

Warnings: this is drama over drama so be prepared, injury in Choso's part, mentioned pregnancy and breakup in Gojo's part, also Geto is an a-hole in here and it isn't 100% accurate to the original story-timeline, it's getting veeeery heated my lovelys, but also comfort but mostly hurt

As usual, I am very thankful for every little like, comment or reblog (thank you anon hehe). Let me know what you think of this, I literally poured my heart and soul into these two parts <3

Tags: @sanicsmut I just know you'll like this girl, @chilichopsticks

Choso Kamo

„(y/n), this is nothing I will discuss with you right now. Just stay here.”

“I can’t let you kill him, this isn’t right. His death won’t bring back your brothers!”, you shout urgently, hands desperately trying to keep him from walking away.

“I always appreciate your opinion and support. But this is something I have to do for myself. Don’t get in the way.”

With one last glance back he’s gone, lost in the neon signs around you, shadow immerged into darkness.

Your brain goes into panic mode immediately, palms sweaty just by the thought of him haunting that boy down. How strange it is that you are able to call Choso your boyfriend. Choso Kamo, a reincarnated curse that is over 150 years old. Choso Kamo, who seems cold-hearted to people when he first meets them. Choso Kamo, who loves his family more than anything else.

You know this isn’t him, that killing Yuji Itadori is nothing but an act of revenge for him that he hopes will make him feel better.

“But how does killing someone else solve your problems?”

He never answered this question. He didn’t have to, given the fact that he just stared at you with furious eyes. You know all too well how it broke him to lose his brothers through the hands of some random jujutsu sorcerers. Fuck, you were just as heartbroken as he was. But if revenge is the only solution, wouldn’t this little game go on to infinity?

This isn’t the way, this isn’t the man you love. And you won’t let him go berserk only to regret what he did later on.

There is only one thing you can you now.

Your feet start moving on their own, following his shadow through the dark hallways of Shibuya’s train station. You aren’t a very gifted jujutsu sorcerer, maybe a grade 2 in sorcerer terms. But maybe your presence will be enough to stop him. Maybe his love is greater than the hatred he carries in his heart for that Idadori boy.

After all, it is a miracle in itself that he really loves you, a human being. Instead of killing you right on the spot he decided to safe you and even take care of your multiple wounds back then when you first met. You are not only hopelessly in love with him, but owe him his life. It’s time for you to give something back.

The only thing that echoes through the hallways are your very own rapid steps and sharp breaths. Please let him be okay, please let him still search for that boy. Your forehead glisters in sweat, the area only illuminated by the changing neon signs.

Finally a sound. You stop in your tracks immediately and close your eyes while holding your breath. It’s far away, but those are steps and dampened rumbling. It has to be him. And he’s definitely not alone.

You can’t waste any time. As fast as your shaky legs carry you, you run down the hallway, eyes roaming around to catch a glimpse of his dark messy hair. Did he found Yuji Itadori? From what you’ve heard, Sukuna’s vessel is a quite skilled jujutsu sorcerer himself. But despite that, you know how much power Choso holds. If they meet, there will definitely be a fierce fight and your boyfriend might get hurt in the process.

But Yuji gets killed.

Suddenly water starts to soak into your shoes, pooling the surrounding area entirely. You furrow your brows. Where the hell is that coming from? Aren’t you underground? And also, it wasn’t raining outside…

Instinctively you follow the stream, noises growing louder and louder. Your heartbeat picks up, eyes wide open in realization. They have to be in there, in that toilet. The only think you are able to do is run. Water splashes around you, completely taking your already dimmed sight under the purple neon lights.

Until you see your boyfriend. Bending over the severely injured body of what looks like Yuji Itadori, fist ready to hit him with his last shot.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Before you are able to even think about a plan you sprint forward and shield the boy’s body with your own.

Only to get hit in your stomach with full force by your own boyfriend.

For a moment you forget how to breathe, the only sound being the constant ringing in your ears along with a silent cough. Are you dead? You can’t tell with your sight completely turned black and your empty head.

“(y/n)”, is all Choso is able to breathe out.

It happened so fast he couldn’t react anymore. Within the split of a second, he was only able to direct his fist away from your head into your stomach.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A trail of blood escapes your lips along with a cough, gaze completely empty. Did he kill you? His guts turn, he feels like fainting away. Oh god, what did he do?

“(y/n).”

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. He told you to stay out of this, to leave this to him. Why on earth did you throw yourself in front of Yuji Itadori? How could you risk your life so reckless?

“(y/n)?”

You don’t react, glossy eyes wide open, directed into darkness. His shaky hands pull up your shirt, revealing a huge bruise. He broke a few of your ribs, that’s for sure.

“(y/n)!”, he begs again, repeating your name over and over like a prayer.

His hands grab your body and pull you away from Itadori while all he can do is kneeling next to you. Are you even breathing? Fuck, you are so cold and completely soaked in water that still pours down without mercy.

“(y/n)…”

His hand caresses your cheek gently. You just have to wake up. This is a bad dream, right? He didn’t just punch you with full force, he isn’t responsible for you laying here with broken bones and bruises. No, he didn’t just hurt the love of his life, his precious girlfriend.

Are those tears running down his cheeks? He can’t tell. The water pouring down on him makes it hard to see.

“Don’t…kill…him…”, you suddenly mumble.

Choso feels like flying and dying at the same time, relieved by hearing your voice while being absolutely crushed be the fact that he is responsible for your poor state.

“Why did you throw yourself in front of him, (y/n)? I never wanted to hurt you. I would have never hurt you…”, he stutters, pressing your upper body against his.

You cough violently, feeling as if your spilling your guts out every second. God, you feel terrible. If you move a single inch you’ll faint away into darkness.

But despite the pain that rolls over you like a tsunami, you force your eyes to look at him? His beautiful screwed up face, his glistening eyes. Is he crying? This might be the first time you’ve ever seen him like this.

“I know you didn’t wanted to hurt me. Did you kill him?”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, almost too distant to get under the pouring water. But the second your words reach his ears, Choso can’t hold back any longer.

He’s crumbling in front of you like a piece of paper, hands holding onto you for dear life.

Choso almost killed you. The love of his life, the only thing that’s worth living. And for what? Because he was seeking revenge.

“But how does killing someone else solve your problems?”

Your wise words repeat themselves over and over in his head. Fuck, if he only listened to you. He shouldn’t have agreed to work with Geto in the first place out of sheer rage. No, he could lay in bed with you at the moment, hearing about what is currently happening at Shibuya in the news.

Then this wouldn’t have happened. Then you wouldn’t lay in front of him severely injured.

His whole face is screwed up, trembling fingers clenched to tight that they bleed while a sob escapes his lips.

All of this is his fault.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I’m so so sorry”, he cries out, placing his head on your chest.

“Is he dead?”, you croak out, tired eyes wandering to the boy’s unconscious figure leaning against the wall.

“Yes…Yes he does…”

A weak smile forms on your lips. So this wasn’t in vain. After all, you reached your goal.

“Thank god…”, you mutter.

Choso’s guilty conscience eats him up from the inside. Why? Why the hell did he think killing Yuji Itadori is a good idea in the first place? Despite the deaths of his brothers, despite all the pain he’s been through, despite the fact that he isn’t even human.

He loves you with all his heart. Your gentle disposition that is the opposite of his cold-hearted one. Your friendly smile that outshines his emotionless expression every time. The way you love him although he didn’t even know what love is when he first met you.

You showed him so many facets of life and he tramples on all the things you taught him.

“I will get you out of here. And I promise will every fiber of my being that I will change, that something like this will never happen again”, he blurts out.

“You don’t have to change, darling. You just need to decide on your perspective of life.”

Everything hurts, you feel like dying from the inside. Although you don’t seem to bleed externally, the stinging taste of blood in your mouth tells you you are severely injured. A load moan escapes your lips when Choso gently lifts you off the ground, body screaming out in agony.

With a gentle kiss on your forehead and tears still running down his cheeks. Something like this will never happen again. Not through the hands of others and especially not his.

God, never again will he ever hurt you.

Satoru Gojo

Your fingers tremble uncontrollably as you try to figure out what you hold in your hands. Is this…positive?

Are you really pregnant?

Two lines. Two clearly visible lines. You feel like fainting and flying at the same time, your thoughts are racing.

Is this really happening? Are you dreaming?

No, the proof lies visible in your hands. You are pregnant. You are expecting a child with Satoru Gojo.

“Listen (y/n)…I’ve been thinking about this for a while now…Have you ever thought about having a baby? I mean, you’ve been my girlfriend for more than 6 years, my fiancé for half a year. I’ve never seen me as a father and I know this isn’t the best timing considering what’s going on in the word at the moment. But the thought of you with a precious baby belly, a child with your eyes…This thought filled me with so much joy recently that I wanted to talk about this with you.”

You couldn’t find words, his sudden outburst caught you off guard. But oh how much you thought about that too, how it would feel to have a child with the man you love more than anything else on this world, to start a family with Satoru. Tears started to sting your eyes, arms wrapped around him tightly.

“I would absolutely love that!”, you cried out, face buried against his broad chest while he stroked your hair just the way you like it.

“We don’t have to rush anything. Just living like usual without protection”, he mumbled against your head.

“I love you so much, Satoru. Nothing makes me happier than being with you. And maybe next year there will be three of us.”

He smiled down at you the way that always makes you see stars. God, how much you love that man. The thought alone to spend the rest of your life with him and your little family filled your heart with nothing buy warmth and joy.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything else”, he mumbled.

Satoru. What are you supposed to do? Call him, text him, drive to Jujutsu High? You’re on your day off while he told you this morning that he’ll teach the new student, Yuta. As much as you’d love to get in your car immediately and meet him in person, you shouldn’t disturb him right now. No, this is something special. This needs time, a calm evening and privacy.

A little message can’t hurt though.

Hey babe, can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve got some exciting news. Love you <3

You let out your shaky breath, eyes darting to the test again. Is this really your life? It surely can’t get any better than that.

-Satoru’s POV-

“I hate so say it, but I guess there’s no way out of this”, Shoko comments.

But there has to be. After all, he’s the strongest, he’s the only one who’s able to protect you right. This shouldn’t be the only way to save you, there has to be more.

“I will find a way around this”, Gojo hisses through gritted teeth, hands so tensed up that his veins pop out.

“You can’t. There’s absolutely no way to keep her save. She’ll insist on going with you if you tell her. And if you don’t she’ll find out and come to your place. Or worse, someone else will find her. She is the safest when she’s gone.”

Fuck. Satoru slams his fist against the table, blood squirting. He knows she’s right. Deep down, he is very aware of the fact that no matter how he twists and turns it, you’re in danger. Suguru made that very clear. He has to make a decision now, even if it breaks his own heart.

“So what’s the solution then, huh? Breaking up with her?”, he barks at Shoko.

“If you really want to make sure that she’s safe and gone, yes. Aren’t her parents living far away from here?”

That’s not what he wanted to hear. Thick rage crawls up his spine and takes his sight. He’ll kill all of them. Every single one of these curses and Suguru’s accomplices. This shouldn’t be the only way, he shouldn’t have to break the heart of the women he loves most.

Fuck, how much he hates to see you cry. Just a few days ago, he told you that he wanted to have kids with you, to start a family, he proposed to you. This will not only break your heart, but shatter you into million pieces.

“I get that it’s rough and that you don’t wanna do it. But if you want to make sure that (y/n) is safe, you have to make her believe that it’s over.”

“What if I’m hiding her somewhere at Jujutsu High? What if I’m staying by her side?”

“She’ll never allow that and you know it. (y/n) would rather die herself than letting other people suffer because you aren’t there.”

She’s right. Deep down Satoru knows that every word Shoko says is true.

- Later that evening –

You almost fall off the couch in excitement when you hear keys turning in the lock. He’s finally home! It must have been a pretty rough day if he wasn’t even able to reply to your text. Your fingers hold onto the test in your hands for dear life, heart jumping up and down in joy. How will he react? Will he laugh, will he cry? You don’t know. But he’ll surely be cheerful.

“Hey babe, I need to talk about something with you!”

The sound of your joyful voice alone makes him want to break down. Fuck, you don’t deserve this, none of this is your fault at all. So why does he have to break your heart so violently? He shakes his head, blindfold covering his already glossy eyes. There’s no way out of this. He needs to hurt you in order to save you.

“Oh, there you are”, you breathe out when you catch a glimpse of him.

Satoru looks as breathtaking as always, albeit a little drained. It must have been a rough day for him. But your news will definitely brighten up his mood.

“Babe, there’s something absolutely exciting I have to tell y-“

“(y/n)”.

The harsh tone in his voice quiets you down immediately, the grin on your face washed away in the wind.

“I have something to talk about”, he announces.

Why does he have to be so cold? What has gotten into him? Worry lines disrupt your face.

“Oh, did something happen?”

The innocent tone in your voice kills him right on the spot along with your stunning glimmering orbs…No, he needs to do this. After all it’s for your well-being. You’ll see that too, hopefully.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

You hold your breath, eyes scanning over his stunning face for any hint of sarcasm, for an emotion. But no, all he does is staring down at you with stone cold orbs, arms crossed in front of his chest.

You feel like fainting, world collapsing around you. No, this can’t be true. He can’t be serious. Not long ago, he told you he wants a child with you, he asked you to marry him. Your heart clenches, tears start glistering in your eyes. This has to be a nightmare.

“No”, you breathe out, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I’m breaking up with you, (y/n)”, he insists.

This isn’t a joke or a dream. You can tell that he’s serious, that he means every word he says.

“Why?”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

You can’t believe your ears.

“Just yesterday, you told me over and over how much you love me, you…you had sex with me, Satoru. Just a few hours ago.”

You can’t stop your tears from falling anymore, the feeling of this indescribable loss pulls the ground from under your feet.

“It meant nothing to me.”

His words hit you with full force, pushing you to sit down in order to not collapse onto the floor. Was all of this a game for him? And what about…?

Oh god, you feel like throwing up.

“I’m pregnant, Satoru.”

His heart stops. Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, almost too low for him to understand. Did you really just say that?

“What did you say?”

“I’m pregnant!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs.

Pregnant… You’re pregnant. You’re expecting his child, the child he told you he wants. You’ll be family! This is absolutely fantastic, you have to celebrate-

No. Satoru stops the seed of joy in his heart immediately. Now is not the right time for that. After all, he’s about to break up with you at the moment.

“I don’t care.”

His word cut through his very own heart like a knife, your face twisted in agony simply takes his breath away. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve any of those venomous words he spits at you. But he does it so you are safe. Yes, over and over he tells himself that this is for your best, that at least you’ll be out of the firing line. You’ll be safe and sound, you and his unborn child.

“Leave this place, stay with your parents or something. I don’t want to see you here any longer.”

In this moment, you feel like dying. Your past, present and future plays itself in front of your inner eye, reminding you of all the precious moments together. Was all of this a lie? Does he even care about you?

Like in trance you get up, grabbing nothing but your wallet and phone. You need to get away from here before you break down completely. If this is how he feels, he doesn’t deserve to see your grief.

God, he wants to break down in front of your feet, completely mesmerized by the way you carry yourself so well after his harsh words. Hopefully you will understand that he did this for you. Even though he broke your heart, you’ll live. And this is all that matters…

“Goodbye then, Gojo.”

The venomous sound of his last name out of your mouth makes him collapse onto the couch the second you close the door behind your back, tears glistening in his eyes.

Why? Why on earth did this just happen? Why did he have to hurt you like this? God, please let you understand it when all of this madness is over. Please let you be okay…

- Day of the night parade –

“Oh dear, look at this”, your mother breathes out while turning up the TV volume.

You gaze at the flickering pictures without any emotions, dark circles surrounding your eyes from all the nights without any sleep.

Satoru? You haven’t heard a word from him since that evening. That evening that altered your brain chemistry forever. That evening that showed you his real face. Since you’ve had nowhere else to go and wanted to be as far away from him as possible, you stayed with your parents ever since.

“What is going on at Tokyo?”, your father mutters.

Huh, looks like absolute chaos. Your eyes widen at the sheer amount of destruction, the reporter whose head gets ripped away by…

Your heart sinks.

This was a curse, without any doubt. What about Satoru?

No. You shake your head vehemently. This isn’t about him. What about your students, Nanami, Shoko, all the others? Are they okay? What is going on there? Suddenly you feel like standing up, too excited to sit.

You swore to never step a foot into Jujutsu High again, to start over somewhere else. But this…You can’t just sit here in silence with all your powers while your friends might die through the hands of curses.

“I need to leave”, you announce.

“What? But you said you want to stay here. (y/n), if this is about him…-“

“It’s not”, you interrupt your mother immediately.

“I need to watch after my friends.”

Yes. Screw Satoru and whatever he’s up to. Mindlessly your hands caress your little bump. This is your responsibly, the least you can do.

- At Toyko –

“Gojo-sensei, (y/n) is here”, Maki announces through her communicator as you walk through the barrier with ease.

Impossible.

His eyes widen in pure horror. All this pain and grieving over the last few weeks, all the nights he cried himself to sleep because he missed you, the countless thinking about your precious little baby.

And now you’re right here where you shouldn’t be, running into the arms of Suguru without even knowing it.

“Oh, I didn’t expect he’d be so dumb”, a painful familiar voice behind you suddenly speaks out.

You turn around, taking in the appearance of none other than Suguru Geto.

“Are you responsible for this whole mess?”, you question.

He steps forward, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. Fuck, this isn’t good. Suguru is a special grade, he could kill you without even trying. Are your students around? Maybe they are at Tokyo, maybe they are safe.

“Did Satoru send you here? Apparently he doesn’t care about you”, Suguru’s voice comments dryly.

Your heart immediately stings in agony, fingertips trembling. Just a few innocent words that break you completely after weeks of pretending you’re okay.

“He broke up with me a few weeks ago”, you clarify.

Suguru breaks out in hysteric laughter while all you can do is stare at him and hold back your tears. How is he able to laugh about your feelings? Before he went berserk, you and Suguru got along pretty well. What happened to him?

“3 weeks ago, maybe?”

You tilt your head. Why that question? And why…why is he so accurate?

“Yeah”, you mutter.

“How ironic.”

“What’s so funny about that, asshole”, you bite back.

His figure comes to a stand so close to you that you can feel his breath creeping across your face.

“It’s funny that he tried to save you and now you’re standing right in front of me, (y/n).”

His words pull the ground from beneath your feet, thoughts racing so violently that you feel like throwing up. What did he say about Satoru trying to save you? What is all of this about? You lose your cool completely.

“What the hell are you talking about?”, you yell into his stupid smirk.

“I gave him an ultimatum. But now that you’re here already…Let’s get this over with.”

You aren’t able to properly understand a single word as he hounds a curse your direction.

“Why are you even here?”

Where is Satoru? What is going on here? Where are your students? So many unknown variables, so much pressure. You need answers.

“I’m here to kill Yuta Okkotsu.”

Your heart sinks immediately. Yuta? Suguru is probably on the hunt for Rika. No, you can’t let him get away with this.

“Over. My. Corpse.”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Oh dear (y/n). I always liked your charm, but nothing better than that.”

It’s hard to keep up with him without any weapon. Where is your dagger when you need it? You only have your powers and your combat skills to attack him. But Suguru isn’t dumb. It’s almost frightening, the way he keeps distance between both of you.

Your baby. Fuck, you need to be careful. After all, stress isn’t beneficial for your pregnancy.

And dying too.

-Satoru’s POV-

He runs as fast as his feet carry him, vision clouded by thick fear. He did all of this for you, to keep you out of grip for Suguru. And now you’re facing him alone, his students not able to help you. What about the baby? He needs to hurry. If Suguru harms one single hair on your head…

“Get away from her. Now”, he barks at his former best friend, positioning himself in front of you just in time before one of Suguru’s curses hits you.

“Ironic, isn’t it? That you even scarified your relationship only for her to run into my open arms.”

“I never thought you would go this far. She’s not only a jujutsu sorcerer, but my girlfriend. I thought you are better than that. Keep your hands off her or you’ll regret it.”

All you can do is stare at his broad back with tears glistening in your eyes. Is this why he broke up with you three weeks ago and left you alone pregnant? To keep you out of sight from Geto?

“Leave this place, stay with your parents or something.”

These three weeks of torture, of asking yourself over and over why you weren’t good enough and where you went wrong…because he was worried?

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”, you cry out, slamming your fists against his back over and over.

“Why did you just leave me like that? Why did you not leave me any choice? Why would you leave me standing in the rain pregnant? Why did you do this to me-“

“(y/n)”, he interrupts you, glossy eyes darted at you in a way you’ve never seen before.

Satoru grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him.

“Because I couldn’t stand you getting hurt”, he breathes out.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t watch out for yourself. Because I knew this was the only way to keep you safe, even though it meant breaking both of his into pieces. Trust me, I hated myself every single day over the last three weeks, wondering every miserable second how you’re doing. It made me lose my mind, (y/n). And now you’re here, right here where you shouldn’t be.”

“I’ve got hurt the second you broke up with me just after I’ve told you that I’m expecting your child!”, you scream into his face.

All the pain, the grief, the longing, the waiting. Everything crushes down at you and swallow you whole. All of this was in vain.

“I never stopped loving you, (y/n). On the contrary, my love for you is greater than my longing after you.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, you can see him cry. Tears roll down his face uncontrollably, the ocean blue of his eyes disrupted by rough red.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your little moment here, but now that you’re already here, I can kill you, right?”

As if in slow motion Satoru turns around to his former best friends, hands clenched into fists so tightly that blood spills.

“I will make you pay for every tear (y/n) spilled, for these weeks of torture. You will regret your threat for every single fucking day.”

“Let’s get it on, then”, Geto remarks dryly.

...

Hope you're doing fine. If you're still able to, feel free to tell me whenever you want a part ll of this and with you. Thank youu <3

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bigglywiggly · 3 months ago

Text

How had you ended up here? Nothing more than a microbe, a speck smaller than dust, standing atop the vast, mountainous flesh of your father's mistress? All around you, pale, pliant flesh as far as the eye could see, a veritable planet of flesh, housing an immeasurable ocean of thick, frothy sea. Rumblings surrounded you, rhythmic in its sound as the very "ground" beneath your feet shook with the force of an earthquake. The baying of a godlike being, of deep, bassy sound resonating from the very environment. You couldn't understand it, but you knew it was laughing.

Your father had met her not long after your mother's unfortunate passing. She clung to him like a parasite, speaking sweet nothing's to him under her breath every time you saw them together. Wherever your father went, there she was, stuck to him like glue, making him hang on every word that escaped her mouth.

He would shower her in niceties and gifts, whatever she wanted. Cars, jewelry, lavish trips, whatever she desired, and in return, he received arm candy. She was draining his bank account before my very eyes. I tried to tell him on multiple occasions she was manipulating him, that she didn't care about him and would leave once he had nothing left to offer, but he ignored me. Accusing me of not wanting him to find happiness, yelling that he deserved to be happy after Mom passed. She had poisoned his mind, and the only way I would ever convince him of it, was with proof.

When the 2 of them left the house on one of their extravagant nights out, I snuck into her room to find anything I could to incriminate her. Thinking I had all the time in the world and would never get caught, but it seemed she was always 2 steps ahead.

I heard the door click behind me, as I turned around, there she was. Standing before me, a malevolent look in her eyes, dangerous yet somehow...sexual? As she approached me, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, sharpening her gaze as she closed the distance. With each button, a small tidal wave of creamy flesh poured out of her top, until she undid the final button and allowed the silken shirt to fall from her frame, flaccidly.

"I-"

"Shhhh..."

She spoke to me, putting a finger to my lips, she took the back of my head, and glared into my eyes. It was as if she was piercing my soul. The room started to haze around me and all I could see was her. Lost in her eyes, I lost all track of time and actions, lost control of myself as she slowly coaxed my head down, lowering me to my knees until I was face to face with her otherworldly bosom. She traced a finger around my mouth, opening it slightly with the tip before carefully inserting into my gaping maw. I suckled in supplication at her finger as I felt a great hunger within me arise.

"Shhhh..."

She spoke again, removing her finger.

"You shouldn't be in here, sweetie. This is Mommy's room, and mommy doesn't like naughty little boys poking their noses where they don't belong. But mommy is understanding and knows when a little boy is just looking for comforting. Mommy understands and is gonna make it all better."

As the words left her most, she took her left breast in hand, feeling it's incredible mass and hefted it up, guiding a rigid pink nipple to my mouth. As it approached, I lapped at the air, begging for the nipple. This brought a crooked smirk to her face as she inserted the nub.

Like clockwork, I began to suck at it, drawing anything from the breast I could. A faint moan escaped her lips as I suckled and nibbled on the tip, hoping for something, anything to come out.

"There's a good boy. You're hungry? Well don't you worry, mommy has lots and lots for hungry little boys. Indulge to your hearts content."

In the instant she finishes that sentence, it was like the turning of a faucet. Sweet, warm milk gushed forth, filling my mouth in a second. Torrents of her sugary nectar filled my mouth over and over again, filling faster than I could gulp. At this rate, I thought the mighty breast would be empty in a matter of seconds, but something started to feel off. No matter how much I swallowed and sucked up, more and more kept coming. Filling my mouth even faster each time.

Something clicked and you finally opened your eyes. You collected your surroundings and that's when a horrifying sight came into view. Her breast. Her titanic breast was all you could see, filling your entire vision. Her nipple wasn't even in your mouth anymore, you were just sucking from one of the individual ducts. You tried to look up to meet her eyes, but you could no longer see her face past the hemisphere of her brobdingnagian tit.

In an attempt to struggle, I tried to pull back but I wouldn't budge. I felt like something was pushing my back preventing me from moving. Angling myself sideways, I could barely make out the tip of a gigantic finger, it's first knuckle looked to be 2 stories below me. Just how small had I become?! This realization made you panic, was the milk doing this? I tried to stop swallowing but the torrents were so strong they fired into the back of my throat and poured down my throat.

After a few more seconds of this, the force at my back had loosened and I felt myself being drawn from her breast. As she pried me away, I could still see the geyser of her teat blasting out milk like a broken dam. As she pried me away, I felt I was stuck, my limbs wouldn't move, and I could tell I was stuck tight to her finger. Being drawn further and further back, my surroundings slowly became more clear. Everything moved incredibly slowly as her celestial body of a breast got further and further away. Roughly 6 inches from her breast looked to be over a mile from my perspective. Then there was a bassy rumble all around, as if the heavens had opened and thunder came raining down from all around me. She was speaking to me. I had no idea what she was saying, but it was clearly her. She raised me up, above her breast towards her face and spoke again, the rumbling rattled my very bones as I felt like my ear drums were going to shatter, I couldn't understand a word she said. She shot me a snarky grin then proceeded to lower me back to her breast, pressing me into her heavy, pillowy flesh. It felt like her breast was consuming me, I was pushed so deep and so surrounded, I thought I was going to be splattered, but no, she had other plans for me, clearly.

I felt her finger leave my back and found myself stuck to her skin, miles of dark, bumpy flesh as far as the eye could see. I was nothing more than a speck of dust, hell, smaller than dust, clinging to her areola. I clung as hard as I could, in fear of falling, but I found myself standing vertically on her, as if my feet adhered to her. It was as if this planetoid of a woman had her own gravitational pull.

Rumbling again surrounded me as the world moved, but I couldn't feel the motions. I could just see the world around her, the world I was no longer part of, move in the distance, slowly. I saw her reach for her shirt, casually placed her arms through the sleeves, then slowly buttoned it back up. I watched my new world becoming dark, almost as if it was indicating nighttime. A last sliver of light filled my vision as she sealed the final button.

-Time passes-

You're not sure how long you've been here at this point, you've been surviving off of her skin cells and any moisture that appears around you. She has become your world, even when bathing, you don't seem to be at risk, almost as if some otherworldly force is keeping you safe from the pouring water or a washcloth. Nothing seems to be able to remove you from your new home.

You wonder how this truly all came to be. If your dad missed you or even cared at this point. You see them together and hear the other world you left, but it's all alien at this point. You just wish you had someone to talk to, someone to cut through the loneliness. As you pondered these things, you saw the sky above slowly begin to illuminate, she was undoing her shirt. Was it shower time?

As she removed her shirt, your sky was filled with another person. A familiar person, someone you'd been missing all this time: Dad. He looked ragged, dark rings under his eyes, the whites bloodshot, what had happened? You felt the rumblings around you as she spoke, and something in the terrain began to change. You heard what sounded like surging beneath you, almost as if the sound of an ocean lapping against a shore. Was she... producing? A pit began to form in your stomach, as you looked up at captors nipple starting to slowly leak.

You screamed as loud as your lungs allowed, yelling at your father, jumping and waving your arms, but it was no use. At your size, no naked eye could ever make you out.

You sat there, defeated and thought to yourself, "Maybe it won't be so bad. At least I won't be alone anymore."

#giantess #breastfeed #demora avarice

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princessmaybank · 3 months ago

Text

Hearts At War : Part 1

Pairings: Dark!Rude!JJ x Kook!Fem!Reader, Enemies to Lovers

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, Weed, etc.

Summary: Sarah drags you to a kegger, where you see your old pal JJ.

Author's Note: My first series!!!

"Of course I'm sure! They'll love you!" Sarah exclaimed. She was dragging me to a kegger held by her pogue friends. I only knew a handful of pogues and they were all rude to me when I tried my hardest to be nice. Going into this I told her it's not a good idea but you can't really argue with Sarah Cameron.

We finally reached the boneyard and it was packed. I saw a bunch of people I knew. Friends would try to stop me to talk but Sarah kept pulling me until we reached a fire pit. I only knew one person at that fire.

"C'mon Sarah why'd you bring her?!" The hard-headed boy with blonde tousled hair complained. That was JJ Maybank, my sworn enemy since 5th grade when he pushed me on the playground. JJ has made every moment we spent together a living nightmare from then on. He was a little asshole then and an even bigger one now. "Get the fuck over it JJ! She's a nice girl!" Sarah stood up for me before introducing me to John B, Kie, Cleo, and Pope. None of them had a problem with me, we even had some great conversations so far, but the entire time someone kept quiet while their eyes dug into my soul.

"I'm gonna grab another drink." I whisper to Sarah before standing. "Oh no...leaving us so soon?" JJ's face and tone was covered in fake sadness. He pretended to pout when I stood. "Don't you worry Maybank, I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too much." I give him a fake smile and head to the keg to grab another beer. When I get there I notice the operator was even more intoxicated than most of the people here. I tried to pour it myself but he fought with me until he accidentally sprayed me with the booze. I had no choice but to walk back to Sarah and her friends. Hopefully someone had a spare shirt or something.

When I got back everyone looked at me concerned while JJ cackled at my appearance. "You're supposed to put the drink in your mouth." He continued laughing. At this point I was extremely annoyed and snapped. "You would know about shoving things in your mouth wouldn't you?" I practically shut him up and caused everyone around us to laugh. Sarah turned to me and asked what happened. Of course I explained what happened to everyone and they felt bad. I got a bunch of 'sorry's' and 'i don't have a spare shirt' comments. "Hey I think there might be a shirt in the Twinkie." John B announced. "Why would a shirt be in a dessert?" I asked confused and everyone laughed at me. "That's what he calls his van." Kie giggled. "Oh, well if you're okay with it-" I was cut off. "Wait- that's my shirt in there. Hell no!" JJ protested. "It's the property of the Twinkie now." Pope shrugs causing everyone to let out a small laugh. JJ looked like he was going to argue some more so I stopped him in his tracks. "I don't want your damn shirt Maybank. I'd rather reek of alcohol for the rest of my life." My eyes rolled as I crossed my arms. I meant what I said, I don't need his shirt.

I needed to get away from them for a little bit, so I went through the crowd and mingled with a few guys. Every one of them even more boring than the last. Even when I did find someone I was interested in, I got shot down. I wanna blame it on my alcohol stained clothes but I'm not sure. When I started walking back to the fire pit, I heard the most annoying voice call out to me. "Striking out?" JJ chuckled as he took a hit from his joint. He was leaned up against a tree, really trying his best to look like a bad boy. "You're stalking me now Maybank? Don't know if I should be scared or flattered." I cross my arms and give attitude. He rolls his eyes and takes another hit. "Oh shut up, why would I stalk you of all people?" He questioned. "You tell me. Why did you know I was 'striking out'?" I say with air quotes. "Oh you were? Lucky fuckin' guess." JJ took another hit then blew his smoke in my face.

"You're such a fucking dickhead!" I huff. JJ simply smiles at me. His fingers slowly brought the joint to his lips and before he could inhale, I stole it from his hand. It met my lips before he could complain and I walked away.

I found myself back at that fire pit where Sarah was now sitting on John B's lap with her tongue down his throat. Pope and Cleo were talking so I turned to Kie. "What is his problem?" I ask her while staring at the blonde who is currently shotgunning a beer with another Pogue. "Honestly? You. I don't know what you did to the boy, but he hates your guts. Always has." Kie spoke as she took the joint from my fingers.

"I didn't do anything. He's been a little dickhead for years and it just keeps getting worse." I say resting my elbows on my knees. "Maybe you should ask him why he acts like that." Kie shrugs. "He would rather spit in my face and toss me in the ocean." She laughed which caused my own to creep up on me. I look back over to the blonde who was already looking at me.

That's weird...

I could've sworn I just saw JJ Maybank staring at me..

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx fic #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #smut prompts

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81folklore · 1 year ago

Text

older - LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x male!singer!reader (fc: luke hemmings)

summary: singer yn ln releases a love song with his boyfriend, and the public are not prepared for who it is about

authors note: this has been on my mind for SO LONG. i honestly dont like how many fics ive been doing on the same people (charles, lando etc) but whenever i go to start a new one on my list for someone else i think of something that i have to do😭 also in this reader is not a part of 5sos but close friends with the 3, wfttwtaf is readers album and older is exclusivly the readers song

authors note 2: i wanted to quickly clarify i am NOT speculating that charles or luke are gay/queer and this is not my intentions. luke obviously sings older and i find it easier to visualise it this way, while the reader in this is male, this could also be read as gn!reader. this is FICTION please do not tkae this as me speculating anything

authors note 3: i didnt really know what i was doing with this so its kind of all over the place and very rushed :/ but then again when arent my smau all over the place?? also can you tell i hate writing comments by the way i just dont😭

masterlist

yourusername

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we started this song together back in 2020 and picked it back up at the end of 2022

'Older' was originally a voice memo of a 50’s-style love song that we wrote together, then forgot about. when thinking of concepts for my debut album i stumbled across the memo and fell in love with it all over again, but i put it aside yet again as to me, it deserved more than the album

the song has changed a lot from the original voice memo, but the meaning has stayed the same throughout. despite all the beauty, the ups and downs of a long-term relationship over many years, there’s inevitably going to be the worst moment of your love because one of you is going to lose each other

capturing those feelings in a song was tricky but ultimately we wrote from the heart and i think it shows in the song itself

this has always been a song between us, so having him play on this song was very importnt to me and im glad he said yes

older is now yours

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im very pleased to announce a very special one off show at the Royal Albert Hall in London this November 18th. I will be playing a bunch of tracks from my debut album and may be joined to play some others aswell! Tickets on sale this monday at 10 am BST. Lots of love always, yn x

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yourusername

liked by 5sos, charles_leclerc and 2,719,936 others

thank you for an incredible night at the royal albert hall

looking back at the best night of my life, i need to thank each and every one of you who allowed this dream to come true, i will never be able to thank you guys enough

performing in my dream venue, with my favorite people in the world was something i never thought was possible and yet here i am, writing this still on my high from last night

thank you to my friends; michael, ashton and calum who took the time to come to london and perform their songs with me, thank you for always loving me and agreeing to my crazy ideas

to my team and everyone who worked to make this night as special as it could be, thank you. thank you for making my htoughts a reality and making this night as wonderful as possible

thank you to the staff who worked throughout the show to make sure everyone was safe, well and looked after. you truly do not get as much credit as you deserve and i apreciate the hard work you put in to keep everyone happy

thank you to those who joined me, i wish each and every one of you who wanted to could have been there. thank you for singing along and listening to me pour my heart and soul into my music

thank you for letting me do this x

view comments

user55: not the pcd hitting already☹️

user1: and im supposed to pretend i didnt see yn and 5sos perform os/co??

user89: CHARLES?? YN IS DATING CHARLES??

user91: AND HE CAME ON STAGE?? AND THEY PERFORMED OLDER??

user50: i cant believe i saw this all happen live

user47: THANK YOU TO WHOEVER WAS RUNING THE GRAINY LIVESTREAM I OWE YOU MY LIFE🧎🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

ashtonirwin: thank you for everything yn. youre a real life angel

user16: NO CHARLES MENTION??

user9: BESTIE HE HAS A WHOLE POST

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liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, michaelclifford and 3,619,273 others

after having time to process this show, I feel so overcome with gratefulness. my music means so much to me and seeing so many people resonate with it in a live space was so special for me.

charlie, my life would literally fall apart without you and this would have never happened without you giving me the confidence to do so, i hold so much love and admiration for you

thank you for joining me on such a special night and performing our song with me, thank you for sticking with me through it all and thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life with you

i sometimes wonder where i would be if i didnt find you, if i wasnt blessed with your love. i try to think about the times before you, before us, but both feel impossible to do after feeling your love

life with you is so special and i promise to always cherish and love you

merci de m'avoir laissé vieillir avec toi, merci de m'avoir laissé t'adorer, merci de m'avoir choisi (thank you for letting me get old with you, thank you for letting me adore you, thank you for choosing me)

yn x

tagged: charles_leclerc

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc: mon ange, je t'aimerai toujours (my angel, I will always love you)

charles_leclerc: je suis tellement privilégiée d'être celle que tu aimes🤍🤍 (I'm so privileged to be the one you love)

yourusername: vieillir avec toi ne semble pas si effrayant🖤🖤 (growing old with you doesn't seem so scary)

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc insta au #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc #formula one x reader #x male reader #f1 x male reader #f1 insta au

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katsukikitten · 7 months ago

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angst

He runs into you the next day after his dream. Of fucking course he does.

Two whole years of no contact with you, your wishes not his, and he sees you.

His eyes red rimmed, he won't explain why, and truly he hopes his usual black out glare reducing paint hides it.

It does, it always does.

It's chance, the same way the two of you met in the first place.

All by chance.

Back then you called it fate.

He can't even remember what the reporter asked him as he rolled his eyes by the tracks of the station. Just knew that his annoyance led to you.

Standing there but he's too focused on your face to notice anything else, giving him your profile as you stand yards away from him. A thick mass of bodies rushing to the express train that could come in thanks to Bakugou's hero work.

But that's all lost to him.

There is no sound, no bodies obstructing his view, no smell of his burning caramel quirk lingering in the air.

There is just you and only you.

The now still world swatched in sun bleached greys and you are the only color in his life, as beautiful as the day you left him.

He thinks he can smell your spicy perfume, hear your sweet giggle as he presses his cold nose into your warm skin, and somehow he knows the two of you will still fit perfectly together. Like you were made for each other, like soul mates that he never cared too much for before but now

Now with these few yards he wishes it were true.

Wishes beyond a doubt the world worked like one of the stories you've written, that a mark would sear into his skin that would match yours. But there is no such thing as fairy tales.

That's why you stopped writing, isn't it?

Again be it chance or by Bakugou's hopeless heart fate

Let it be fucking fate

You look up at him, right at him. As if you felt the weight of his gaze, straight through the throngs of people just to land on him.

He expects you to look away but you were never the one to break eye contact, never one to avoid it even when you were beyond angry.

His brows furrow as the world becomes impossibly quiet as his ears strain for any sound you could make. Heart racing in his chest the only thing tethering him to this Earth as he looks at your ethereal form with fingers twitching to move. To take the first step that will lead him back to you.

The train rushes by making your dress billow around your body and that's the first time he even registers what you're wearing. Your left hand with what looks like a shiny gem on your ring finger moves to smooth down the patterned fabric over the bump of your stomach.

And that is when the world comes rushing back to him.

The burning smell of the brakes from the train, a child screaming in a tantrum, the reporter's body pressed against his arm where his torn sleeve is already agitating his skin.

He breathes in deeply, tries to drown it all out again, tries to remember the sound of your voice guiding him to count down from ten, tries to think of your loud laugh, your soft soothing hands. Tries to pour every ounce of focus back on to you so that he can once more fall into the tunnel vision of his dream.

You stand still as stone in a river of bodies switching currents push against one another to flood on or off of the train. Parting around you even in your stillness with your hot gaze glued to him.

Standing still all the way until the doors threaten to close, only looking away to watch your step, hand still to your stomach as you cross the threshold from what feels like Bakugou's living world into the veil beyond.

As if stepping on to that train you would be spirited away.

You are in a sense, the train slowly building speed and if Bakugou acted now he could catch it, could slam his hot palm through the glass of the conductor's car and push his way to you.

But he isn't fast enough, the seconds tick along and suddenly there is only a silver blur reflecting the evening sun on the horizon before it disappears all together.

Taking with it the moment where you were his one last time. Suspended in that bleakness and you in vivid color, staring back at him in the seconds before the train made him notice the rest of you. Notice the life that swells and grows inside of you.

The life he didn't help create.

There will be no giggles, no watery whispers from his ma about how proud and happy she is. o cooing baby girl or "hellion twins."

There would be no warmth in the Bakugou residence, not anymore.

Not ever again.

Now he would only have the lukewarm dream version of you that he doesn't have but he did not lose.

Because in the end Bakugou knew that any lasting love he could ever have was

Once Upon a Dream.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #this was the option that won the poll

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feelinmatcha · 3 months ago

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❛ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 ❜

DESCRIPTION: hcs on having an unreciprocated crush on your best friend, sanji A/N: told my best friend of 8 years who is taken that im in love with them and its the reason why im no longer gonna contact them until i get over this silly lil feeling (i think shes it for me tbh). but!! im writing this because i miss them so much and breaking no contact with them is wrong!!! 🎵: i love you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams

just the way life goes I like to slam doors closed

when he's hurt or in trouble, you're the first to offer help or a comforting hand on his shoulder

on special occasions, like his or his mothers birthday, you'll anonymously leave a letter on the kitchen counter that would leave him tearing up in the most embarrassing way possible

you write letters filled with your true feelings, incorporating one for every other day. you label the dates, of course, in case you lose track of how many months its been since you've starting having such feelings for him

during late-night conversations, you find yourself pouring out your heart, sharing your dreams and fears. he listens with a cigarette pinched between his fingers, eyes sparkling with genuine interest, unaware that these moments are your way of expressing your hidden feelings

Trust me, I know it's always about me I love you, I'm sorry

you dream about him on the daily to the point where you're waking up to feel the space next to you cold

even with the subtle playful flirting, he doesn't see it as anything more than just friendly banter

when you're around him, it's like everything pales in comparison. you steal glances over the fire, the crowd, luffy's head in the mornings, and even early in the mornings when he's prepping for breakfast

when he gets upset over another failed pursuit of a relationship, you offer the same advice all while sharing some of your own romantic desires

'Cause that's just the way life goes I push my luck, it shows

you insinuate your feelings at one point, since its been almost a year

it was on a particular evening when the rest of the straw hat pirates were out on the deck, watching the swirls of blue and pink in the sky, while your loverboy sulked over nami for the millionth time this month

"you could always just ask her, sanji. it's just nami."

"yes, that's exactly why i shouldn't say anything. it's her!"

"we've been sailing together for how many years, you know her just like you know me and usopp, she's--"

"she's not like you, or usopp!" he groans, ignorant of the way your lips turn downward into a frown at the tone of his voice

"anyone would love you." you say softly

"you're just saying that," he runs a hand down his face. the tears threatening to spill over and his unkempt hair makes this situation so much worse than all of the other times he's cried over a woman. "you're part of the crew, of course you'd think that."

even through the threads of countless lives, your soul would search for his in order to endlessly love him through every echo of existence

a pang blooms in your chest

Thankful you don't send someone to kill me I love you, I'm sorry

it's been a year and a half since you've got feelings for the cook

nothing got better, but at least you're semi thankful for sanji not having the balls to confess yet

even if he did, nami knew of your feelings

she would spend at least one hour a day pestering you about your feelings for him and you didn't have the heart to tell her that he was in love with her instead

because he might just cut contact with you for that

You were the best but you were the worst As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

"why do you love him anyway?"

zoro asks you this one night when he catches you slaving over the counter, trying to prep the dishes and ingredients sanji will need for the next morning

you're rearranging your plans to accommodate sanji's needs when you stop on an island

you decorated the kitchen space with little touches that cater to his tastes-- framed recipes, kitchen gadgets, and cozy blankets draped over the usually chilly kitchen chairs

once every other month, you collaborate on ship projects like redecorating a space or choosing what else to grow up behind the main mast next to nami's mandarins

you don't know when it started but you started to express your affection through gestures like tucking his shirt in for him or fixing his collar from across the table, usually in a more private setting

most mornings he meets you in the kitchen at 4 and getting greeted with a steaming cup of his favorite tea

I was a dick, it is what it is A habit to kick, the age-old curse

"you're going to spend the night at hers?" with a sparkling drink cupped in her hand, you look up at him, a furrow in your brow. "sanji, we're leaving tomorrow morning. why do you think we're not drin--"

"why are you so insistent that i stay?" he rebutted. the girl that was gonna take him home shied away, like you were his mother berating him for something like swinging too high up on a swing

because i love you and i hate seeing you love everyone back but me, you hoped to say

"everyone said it was fine, so i'm going."

when he left, nami consoled you as you tried your best not to burst into hot tears

and when you saw zoro across from you, looking slightly hurt for you, you knew it was time to bury these feelings in the ground

I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad Stare at the crash, it actually works

after you avoided him for a week, which he thought couldn't be possible because they were on a ship, he begins to realize that a chunk of his life quite literally washed away like a plank in the ocean

the frame of you two sat would sit on the dining table after everybody had left, having been previously used for a recipe until you decided to change things up a bit one day

and when sanji saw it that day, he was glad and pointed out that its a nice picture and a good reminder of how fun that day was

to you, the photo was once a symbol of hope and affection but now it felt like a reminder of the emotional distance between the two of you

you threw it away the night you returned back to the ship, knowing he was in bed with another girl

Making amends, this shit never ends I'm wrong again, wrong again

NOTES: plsplspls ignore the errors im writing this at 12am ^^

#sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #hate using his last name but its to get more attention booooo #sanji black leg #opla sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke #one piece live action #one piece #opla sanji #one piece x reader #opla x reader #taz skylar x reader #taz skylar

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lecsainz · 11 months ago

Note

Hi can you do some charles headcanons dating a emo girl (and she plays bass in a emo band)

SHE MAKES SONGS

˒ ⌕ masterlist . . .

parings: charles leclerc x emo!reader

an: I loved writing that! I was a bit scared of getting something wrong, so I didn't delve too deep into it.

summary: the one where you are a bassist in an emo band and date charles.

Charles loves when you play the bass. He finds the emo tunes you create both fascinating and alluring. The way your fingers dance over the strings makes him appreciate your talent even more.

You both complement each other in a unique way. Charles with his racing attire and you with your emo style; it's an unexpected but intriguing contrast that draws attention and makes people curious about your relationship.

Charles adores calling you by sweet nicknames in French, like "Mon Trésor" my treasure, "Ma Belle" my beauty, or "Mon Coeur" my heart . Hearing these terms of endearment from him makes your heart flutter every time.

Despite being at your gigs, you always manage to keep tabs on Charles's races. During breaks between songs, you discreetly ask someone from your band's crew for updates on your boyfriend's race position. Charles finds it adorable and loves that you're always keeping track, no matter where you are.

Charles loves brainstorming with you for new songs. He's always there to bounce ideas off, offering a fresh perspective and helping you fine-tune your creations.

Sometimes, during interviews or public appearances, Charles subtly mentions your band or a particular song, expressing his admiration for your talent.

"Ah, well, you know, I've got to say, my girlfriend is an incredible musician. She plays bass in her band, and honestly, she's amazing. The way she pours her heart and soul into her music—it's something else. I'm really proud of her. I mean, I know I'm probably going on about her, but it's hard not to when you're so impressed by someone's talent, you know?" smirks "She's got this way of captivating the audience with her passion for music that's just... it's something special. And yeah, I think I'm a pretty lucky guy to have her in my life, both as an incredibly talented musician and as my partner." grins "Sorry, got a bit carried away there, but I can't help it. She's just that good."

He absolutely adores it when you pick up your bass and play just for him. Your private jam sessions, where you perform songs specially dedicated to him, become treasured moments between you both.

Charles loves it when you share your new compositions with him first, feeling honored to be the primary listener and your biggest supporter.

There have been a few secret moments where Charles has joined you on stage, playing a simple melody on the piano while you perform. It's a beautiful surprise for the audience.

Charles is your biggest fan at your band's performance. He proudly attends your shows and, to your surprise and delight, wears a shirt emblazoned with "My Hot Bassist Girlfriend" in the front row. His unwavering support and cheering from the crowd make your performances even more special.

He frequently plays your band's songs in the Ferrari garage, showing immense pride in your musical talent.

One day, Charles surprises you by gifting one of his favorite bracelets, a piece he hardly takes off. He expresses that he wants you to have something of his close to you, a sign of his deep affection and trust.

On race days, you proudly wear Ferrari-themed outfits but add your personal touch, incorporating elements that reflect your own style. Charles appreciates the gesture, feeling a sense of unity when he sees you in his team's colors.

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caramelt4me · 22 days ago

Text

Secret. - Prologue

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

𝕋he crowd roared, voices blending into a deafening wave of cheers as the members of Twilight Dreamers, the hottest K-pop boy group of their generation, stepped onto the stage for their closing act. The stadium was electric with anticipation, and when the opening notes of their iconic song, "Endless Echo," filled the air, the energy reached a fever pitch. The song was more than just a track; it was an ode to their devoted fans, Moonbeams, an anthem of eternal connection that tied the fans and idols together in an unbreakable bond.

Asher, the main vocalist, took center stage, his sapphire-blue eyes sweeping over the adoring crowd, each face lit with joy and tears. His voice rang out, pure and emotive, pouring out the heartache and passion of the lyrics, which spoke of unending love and loyalty. Every note resonated with raw emotion, drawing tears from fans who clung to each word, each line of "Endless Echo" reverberating through the stadium like a heartbeat. Damian and Theo stood by his side, hands stretched out to the crowd, their harmonies blending perfectly with Asher's voice. They swayed, matching the rhythm, while fans waved back, each hand reaching for the connection they felt with their idols. In the back, Clade and Nex held their ground, hyping up the crowd with smooth, effortless dance moves and infectious smiles, their playful interactions adding a layer of excitement to the heartfelt moment.

However, unlike their other performances, each time this song would play – it would be Asher who captivated them all: His eyes closed as he sang the final high note with a soulfulness that held the power to break million hearts in a blink.

When his voice faded, he opened his eyes, and the stadium erupted. He looked at his bandmates with a warm, grateful smile, and together they side-hugged, bowing to their fans. The roar of the crowd echoed like a euphoric pulse that had yet to settle. As they exchanged looks with wide grins, their hearts raced, riding on the thrill of their last performance for the year.

All the members would be focusing on their respective solo projects and taking much needed rest until their comeback scheduled after six to seven months. Thus, this performance meant a temporary farewell gift to their fans – who would eagerly await their return. They shared a final wave with the fans, relishing every cheer and lightstick that illuminated the stadium like a sea of stars.

But as they left the stage and stepped behind the curtain, the lights dimmed and the magic faded.

By the time they climbed into the van, a sense of quiet had already settled over them. They slipped into their usual seats, the atmosphere inside shifting from celebratory to subdued.

The contrast was stark: only moments ago, they were flawless idols, bathed in adoration, embodying the unreachable ideal their fans cherished. Now, they were just five young men, caught in the strange in-between of fame and reality.

Theo chuckled at something on his phone, while Nex's face creased with a deep frown as he scrolled through messages. Clade peered over Nex’s shoulder, momentarily concerned before his lips curved into an amused smirk - entertained by the maknae’s frustration, while Damian lay back with his arms crossed, eyes shut, brows knit as if blocking out the exhaustion that lingered beneath the night’s high. The thrill of the stage had drained away, leaving a quiet, almost hollow void in its wake.

Everyone knew that being an idol demanded a crafted image, a painstakingly curated persona. The industry sold a dream, one that promised perfection, a fantasy that kept fans enthralled with illusions of beauty and personality, setting a standard almost impossible to live up to. And yet, some fans blurred reality with their fantasies, forming attachments that were built on half-truths and well-practiced smiles, all too easily crossing lines in their devotion. But it wasn’t just the fans who played with fire; each of the members had their own way of dealing with fame’s side effects.

Damian and Theo, frequently spotted with vape pens or packs of cigarettes during livestreams, leaned into the group’s "bad boy" reputation, a rebellious streak that only made them more beloved among their fans. Clade and Nex, on the other hand, had their fair share of dating scandals, but were skillful enough to dodge serious trouble each time. The four had also earned the title of being quite the party animals - although, that was given due to the industry they were in. Their agency of course, was more than willing to cover for them, knowing that Twilight Dreamers was a lucrative powerhouse, their pristine image essential to the label’s success. Even when the recent shocking rumors of the youngest member's ties to an underground drug lord surfaced, their devoted Moonbeams stood by the boy-group, fierce in their loyalty, ready to defend their idols at any cost.

And then there was Asher.

Though Damian was the official leader, Asher was the group’s true center of gravity. Scandal-free, disciplined, and with an almost untouchable demeanor, he had become a paragon across fandoms, adored as much for his mystery as for his charm. The "Ice Prince," as he was fondly dubbed, seemed almost otherworldly in his restraint, his reputation unblemished by any hint of controversy. Fans clung to every word he wrote, especially the lyrics of Endless Echo, the song that dripped with romance and longing, exposing a softer, almost vulnerable side that surprised everyone. His fans dreamed of a partner like him, someone both devoted and complex, whose quiet allure only made him seem more perfect—and entirely out of reach.

But that too of course, was far from the truth.

The van came to a halt, and Damian, now awake, pushed the door open without a word. Theo and Clade scrambled after him, the former calling out to their leader, “Wait up, Daim! Don’t leave us behind!”

Damian strode off with his jacket thrown back on his shoulder, not looking back.

"Let him go, Theo," Clade chuckled, eyeing the red-haired male's frustration. He slipped an arm around the youngest’s waist, leaning close with a teasing glint in his eye. "We all know the real party doesn’t start until our maknae decides it’s time. Isn’t that right, Nexie?~"

Nex flinched, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly masked it with a smirk. “Yeah, why the rush? The night’s still young,” he shot back, brushing off Clade’s arm with an annoyed look. Clade chuckled, his amber eyes catching the faint blush creeping onto Nex's cheeks.

As the maknae moved to step out, Asher’s hand shot out, gripping his arm and pulling him back. His face was calm, but his icy-blue eyes held a warning that sent a chill down Nex’s spine. “Don’t overdo it,” Asher said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t cover for you this time.”

The pink-haired male swallowed hard, caught off guard by the eldest member’s intensity. “W-What do you mean, hyung? You said it’s ok to party once in a while. Our tour just ended so—”

“You know what I mean,” Asher cut in, his voice like steel. “You’re walking a thin line. Next time, it won’t just be a hiatus. Try jail time. No career to come back to.”

“Hey, back off,” Theo spoke up, frowning. “It’s not like you’re someone to talk—”

“Theo.” Damian’s voice sliced through the tension, as the three younger idols turned to see that their leader had retraced his steps. The raven-haired male gave Theo a look, a silent command to drop it, an unexpected lifeline from Asher’s icy scrutiny.

Asher raised an eyebrow, glancing at Damian, before his gaze stiffened upon realization.

– they knew his secret.

His jaw clenched as he waited for the raven-haired male to make a move – his icy gaze a sliver away from insanity. Instead, Damian chose to play dumb and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Can we go already? My head’s killing me.”

The others gratefully took the cue. “Y-Yeah,” Theo muttered, nudging Nex and Clade, who quickly fell in line, all of them carefully avoiding Asher’s unyielding gaze as they filed out of the van.

Asher’s cold blue eyes followed their retreat toward the party, just another in the countless string they’d gone to since turning legal. His expression remained unreadable as they disappeared from view.

The low hum of the streetlights cast a dim glow around them as the van sat idling in a quiet backlot. Asher leaned against the open door, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, unaffected by the nervously fidgeting manager who had just stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“Mr. Baek,” Asher said coolly, still not turning his head. “Were you just admiring the view, or did you manage to handle the situation at the club?”

Baek’s hands fumbled as he clasped them together, his laugh a little too forced. “Y-Yes, it’s all done, just as you asked,” he replied, clearing his throat. “The laced drinks have been swapped for regular ones, and by morning, the supplier will be…handled. I’ll have Nex’s phone bugged again after he crashes. Just like last time.” He chuckled nervously. “I thought the little rascal had learned his lesson, but old habits, huh? Still, um...” He hesitated, glancing at Asher’s unreadable expression. “...won’t the boys eventually catch on? I mean, they might suspect you’re involved.”

Asher let out a low laugh, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why? Do you plan to snitch on me to our Dear Leader-nim just like the way you did about the Cabin.”

Baek’s face drained of color, his breath catching as he grasped Asher’s arm in panic. “N-No! I’d never! Did…Did Damian say something? That—” His words faltered as Asher’s gaze turned ice-cold, and he pulled his hand back as if burned. “Please, Asher, believe me! I didn’t tell him anything. That day, he must’ve overheard us on his own—I swear, I didn’t—”

“Relax, Mr. Baek,” Asher said smoothly, clamping a firm hand on the manager’s shoulder. "I was just kidding."

He smiled, although that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “You have been dedicated to our group since its inception for several years now. Moreover, I’ve known you since I was a kid; you’re like an older brother to me. I trust you wouldn’t betray that.”

Baek’s face broke into a hesitant smile, relief flooding his features—until Asher tightened his grip on his shoulder, the smile widening ever so slightly. “At least, not intentionally,” he added, voice laced with something unspoken. “And it seems our Leader-nim is is content to stay out of this, so it’s all good.”

The manager seemed to regain life as he sighed in relief, but that only lasted for a solid second before Asher yanked him forward by the back of his head, their faces mere inches apart. His voice dropped to a whisper, sharp enough to slice through the tension. “Consider yourself lucky no one else overheard. If this ever leaked to the media… let’s just say I’d have my own way of ‘handling’ it. You might not come out so lucky, Baek.”

Baek fell to his knees, his voice shaking as he begged for forgiveness. Amusement flickered in Asher’s eyes as he watched Baek ramble on, looking hauntingly beautiful and distant, like some vengeful angel. After a moment, he placed a patronizing hand on Baek’s head, gently patting it as if he were a loyal pet.

“It’s alright, Mr. Baek,” he murmured, a twisted gentleness in his tone. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. Mistakes happen.” He ran his fingers through the manager’s hair before gripping a handful tightly, making Baek wince. “But surely you understand that we learn from our mistakes, don’t we?”

“Ah! Y-Yes, absolutely, Asher! I’ll never slip up again—”

“I wasn’t finished.” Asher’s voice turned frosty, pulling Baek’s head up so they were face-to-face, blue eyes gleaming with a hard edge. “When I said I wanted surveillance, I meant complete surveillance. Not just Nex—I want full access to all their chats and calls. Nex may have messed up, but the others aren’t far behind. They’re all barely holding it together.”

He paused, something shifting in his gaze, a flicker of wistfulness. “I get it,” he murmured. “I was worse than them. I gave you quite the hard time, didn't I ? You must be glad when it all ended. When I met… her.”

At the mention, Asher’s usual composure softened, his face momentarily flushed.

Baek, still held firmly by the hair, nodded quickly, swallowing his discomfort. He knew Asher’s past all too well—the meltdowns, the outbursts. The scars on his body were hidden now, erased by the country’s top surgeons, except for the one on his cheek, left as a reminder.

“Perhaps it’s a good thing they know my secret,” Asher mused aloud. “Maybe they’d stop running from their own shadows and find someone to call only theirs.” His grip relaxed, and Baek exhaled in relief, nodding along. “So long as it’s nothing worse than a dating scandal or some partying,” Asher added, shrugging. “Anything else is too risky. Am I clear?”

Baek gulped, scrambling to his feet. “Crystal clear, Asher. I’ll bug their devices after the party—and I’ll make sure to answer your calls in private from now on.”

The blue-eyed idol smirked, letting him go and stepping back, while Baek slumped, catching his breath. “That’s more like it,” he said with a hint of satisfaction. “I expect no next time. Don’t let me down, alright?”

Baek straightened, nodding furiously as he fixed his disheveled clothes.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Asher’s voice was casual again as he reached into his pocket. “Leave me the keys to the other car. I’ll be heading to the cabin tonight—I have no reason to stay in the city with the tour done.”

“Yes, of course. I moved your brand shoots and interviews to later in the month, as requested. I did my best to buy you time, but Mr. CEO insisted—”

“Spare me the details, Mr. Baek,” Asher waved it off, holding out his hand. “I know you must have tried to handle the old man. It's fine. As long as he protects what’s mine, I’ll be nice and keeping being his ‘golden goose.’"

The manager handed over the keys, nodding obediently. Asher’s gaze thawed as his fingers tenderly felt the familiar bad-crocheted bunny key chain attached to it. “Also, don’t disturb me unless it’s urgent,” he added softly.

Baek bowed his head, backing away, leaving the two-faced idol to his thoughts as the van finally disappeared into the night.

Asher threw his bag onto the passenger seat of his car, and started the engine. He sighed, impatient to drive off into the night – to the place he always retreated to when he got a moment to breath from his hectic schedule as an idol.

The Cabin.—a place he considered more of a home than his luxurious studio apartment in the same celebrity neighbourhood as all the rich and famous A-listers.

A place that held his kryptonite.

His everything.

You.

#soft yandere #male yandere x reader #stockholm syndrome #yandere male #prologue #first draft #original fiction #yandere idol #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #test

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brain-rot-central · 9 months ago

Text

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 3

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. She's finally here.

Word count: 3.5k Rating: M (nothing sexual; mostly topics that may be uncomfortable) Pairing: Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav Warnings: 18+; Mentions of murder, violence, death, blood, gore (very minor), blood drinking, sexual acts. Angst, alcohol consumption.

Summary: Tav and Shadowheart finally reunite for a simple lunch date. Their discussion turns toward Astarion, and a particularly unsettling event.

Chapter track: Cry - Cigarettes After Sex

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

Dawn breaks over the horizon. The subtle stirrings of a city coming to life once more fill the streets. Maids and matrons pat down their mats just beyond their front doors. Street vendors begin setting up their carts. A young boy with a satchel carrying copies of the Gazette goes from home to home delivering the day’s latest print.

Tav kneels before her front window, watching the street below. A few days have passed since her meeting with Jaheira. Astarion hasn't been to see her; the longest stretch of time between visits since they began their ordeal. She fully expected a visit last night. However, he never came. She hates admitting it to herself, but she feels a shallow pit in her stomach beginning to form having gone without him for so long.

Standing up, Tav closes the window and brings herself into the washroom to prepare for the day ahead. An old friend has requested a lunch date; she hasn’t seen Shadowheart for many months, and owes her dearest friend an audience.

Tav pours the carafe of water into the wash basin, dipping a cloth into the water before bringing it to her face. Studying the various soaps and creams she has lined along the shelf, she chooses one of nettlebark, smelling of citrus and pine forests. This scent is one of her favorites, and she’s relieved she can still find comfort within the smell. Scents are still a trigger for her nausea at this stage in her pregnancy. The usually tempting smell of breakfast wafting about the air of the city turns her stomach upright, now. Tav has found that if she holds off eating until mid-morning, she's in the clear.

Yet… odd cravings have begun.

For instance, she's since gone back to the butcher's, profusely apologetic to poor Gideon. Of course, the kind soul that he is, he was nothing but understanding and even offered her a few rations free of charge. Tav politely declined his offer, yet as she stared into the display cases full of various raw meats, she found herself practically bewitched by the sight. Rich, bloody beef; cut straight from the animal. She recalls how intensely saliva pooled within her mouth staring at the provisions. Tasting the metallic twang of the blood on her tongue, swallowing thickly as Gideon returned with her order.

Patting her face dry with a small towel, Tav returns into the main room and begins rummaging through her dresser for the day's outfit. The midnight blue bottle Jaheira gave her sits atop the dresser. Tav considers the potion every morning, but quickly declines as her heart aches at the thought.

She believes the weather to be rather warm today, so she settles on an airy, light blue sundress and a wide brimmed hat. The gray scarf she recently bought matches perfectly as she stands before her mirror, assembling the ensemble.

The ghost of scars catches her eyes as she adjusts the scarf around her neck. They're light enough; most wouldn't notice, though to her, they blare. Permanent gifts from her months-long affair with Astarion during their journey to defeat the Absolute. His bite was always a clean one, never marring her tanned skin. Two faint fang marks are all that remain, Tav taking the index and middle fingers of one hand to press lightly over the imprinted flesh as she lifts her chin.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

The rhythmic beating of her heart can be felt beneath her fingertips as she pushes slightly into the artery. Accurate, Tav notes, a shiver running down her spine. She makes quick adjustments to the scarf and grabs her hat off the edge of her bed, placing it atop her head.

Returning to the mirror, Tav smiles approvingly at her reflection as she gives herself a final glance over. The dress is loose enough that it hides the new softness of her body, something she's thankful for. Curiously, she places her hands over her stomach, pushing the fabric of the dress down and under the small swell of her lower abdomen. A pleased laugh escapes her lips while admiring the sight.

Tav turns her body from side to side, tracing the movement with her eyes. Her breasts now fill the top of the garment. The deep plunge of the dress’s neckline displays her new cleavage in a flattering manner. Feeling suddenly bare, Tav unwraps the scarf from around her neck, repositioning it lays across her chest like a bandana. Better. A bit more modest.

The satisfaction doesn’t last very long as she thinks of Shadowheart. How can she tell her? Will she tell her? While Shadowheart has never been anything but supportive, Tav worries how she may respond to news of her pregnancy. Tav is not ready for the backlash and potential lecture her best friend would give her, hearing Shadowheart's scolding voice echo within her mind.

You cried over him for months! Tav envisions clearly, sour facial expressions and all. How many times did you come to me distraught in the middle of the night? Only to end up like this?

If the conversation doesn’t occur naturally, Tav decides on not discussing it. Not yet.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Tav grabs her satchel from behind her main door, throwing it over her shoulder and across her chest. She inspects the contents quickly to ensure everything is present. Slipping her feet into brown sandals, she makes her way down the stairs to face the day ahead.

----------------------------------------------------

The morning is spent strolling around the park not far from her apartment. Tav recalls an altercation with Bhaal’s followers in this very park so many months ago. Today though, people are enjoying the sun and the company of one another. Lovers lay out on the grass, hands interlaced as they speak freely of their devotion to one another. A book club gathers in the middle of the park to discuss their latest obsession. Tav overhears bits and pieces of mixed conversations, finding comfort in the fact that life is slowly returning to normal for the citizens of Baldur's Gate.

The midmorning quickly slips into afternoon, and Tav begins her trek over toward the Elfsong to meet with Shadowheart. A few people nod in recognition as she passes by. “That's our hero!” they shout. “The savior of the city!” Tav smiles and bows graciously toward them, never quite comfortable with everyone suddenly knowing of her existence. Still, she is thankful for their praise and support.

Upon entering the Elfsong, Tav scans the tavern and quickly finds Shadowheart seated at a booth along the wall. Their eyes meet, Shadowheart waving her over with a warm smile on her face. “There you are!” she exclaims as Tav draws closer. “My goodness, I feel as if it's been ages!” The two women exchange a quick embrace, planting chaste kisses upon eachother's cheek.

“Good to see you again, Shadowheart,” Tav says as she settles into the booth. She removes her hat and scarf, placing both items on the cushion to her left.

Shadowheart soon joins her, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “Shall I ask for another glass?” she proposes, nodding to hers. “We could just order a bottle,” she quickly adds with a smirk.

“Oh, no, I'm quite fine,” Tav declines, a sharp twist in her abdomen forms at the thought. “Truth be told, I haven't had the best stomach, as of late.” Bile begins to rise in the back of her throat as a quick wave of nausea passes over her. She quickly swallows it back down.

Taking another sip from her glass, Shadowheart cocks her head to the side. “Truly? Why haven't you been to see me yet?”

“Not to worry,” waving a hand in reassurance. “I've been to a healer. All is well,” Tav replies with a liar’s smile.

All is not well. None of this is well.

Fortunately, Shadowheart takes the bait and quickly switches subjects. Waiting for service, they begin a pleasant conversation about resettling back into their lives. They speak of their new jobs and all other mundane activities of day-to-day life, sharing a few laughs between remarks as they pursue the menus in front of them.

The waitress takes their orders – Shadowheart keeps it light, ordering salad with grilled chicken; Tav orders a rare steak with potatoes and a side of vegetables. “Rare?” Shadowheart comments as soon as the waitress is out of earshot. “You hate all meat, unless it’s well done.”

She's right. Any hint of pink in Tav’s portion would go right back into the fire. “I-I've been trying new things lately,” Tav explains, rubbing her neck coyly. The cravings only seem to grow as the days pass, and she briefly wonders if it's a consequence of having a half-vampiric pregnancy.

Shadowheart raises a brow again, but fortunately does not pry further. The women then delve into a discussion regarding their old companions as they wait for their meals. Tav talks of her efforts to bolster the city watch with Wyll, now the Duke after his father's unfortunate death. Shadowheart speaks of Gale, who she notes has since opened a school of wizardry back in Waterdeep. Neither has heard much regarding the others, though they agree that they're most likely doing well.

Shadowheart wastes little time once their meals arrive, forking salad into her mouth. “So, have you heard from Astarion at all?” she asks casually after swallowing.

A shudder passes over Tav as she begins slicing into her steak. “No,” she feigns with eyes cast downward, “I-I have not.”

Gesturing toward Tav with her fork as she chews, Shadowheart swallows. “I read something interesting in the Gazette a few days ago,” she suggests.

“About him?” Tav questions, bringing a potato wedge to her mouth.

Shadowheart shakes her head in disapproval around a sip of wine. “Not in particular,” she clarifies. “They don't name him explicitly, though it made me think of him.”

Silence befalls the table as Tav awaits her companion to continue. She doesn't trust her voice enough at this point to offer more to their conversation now that Astarion is the topic at hand. Playing idly with the vegetables on her plate, she chooses a small piece of broccoli to bring up to her mouth. The heavy pull of dread is beginning to creep in, her chest tightening.

“They… mentioned an incident that occurred in the sewers but a tenday ago,” explains Shadowheart, a sour expression befitting her face. “Some sort of deal gone wrong.”

Tav looks up to meet Shadowheart's gaze, puzzled. “How exactly does that involve him?” she inquires.

“Well, that's just the thing,” Shadowheart continues, “those first on the scene mentioned five victims in total, all young males.” She interrupts herself to feed another forkful of salad into her mouth, swallowing before resuming, “They were all reported as being exsanguinated, though only three had their throats slashed.”

Tav swallows hard around another piece of steak, silently savoring the rare flavor washing over her tongue as she focuses her attention on Shadowheart. “And the other two?”

Shadowheart looks sheepishly around the bar, discomfort evident. She dips her head. “Tav, I know of your history with Astarion. I don't wish to speak ill of him out of respect for you.”

Tav's fist tightens around the knife in her left hand. The tightness in her chest has traveled up to her throat. Her heart pounds rapidly as she drinks from the glass of water within her right hand. “What of the others?” Tav insists, placing the glass back down on the table with force.

Eyes falling closed, Shadowheart sighs heavily. “The other two…” she begins, voice trailing off. She pulls in a deep breath. “Well, they're reported as having two pin marks on their necks.” She gestures to Tav's throat with a soft nod of her head. “...Not unlike the scars you bear.”

A prickling heat spreads across Tav’s face. A tenday ago? she speaks within her mind. Rather close to when she'd last seen Astarion. Tav recalls again how miffed he'd been that night; impatient and direct, wasting little time coaxing her down onto the bed.

She pushes around a chunk of potato on her plate, anxiety mounting. “What makes you think it was Astarion? It could have been a kobold, or a spider, or-”

“They were gone the next day,” interrupts Shadowheart, bluntly.

Tav’s heart nearly freezes. She locks eyes with Shadowheart. “Gone? What do you mean gone?” she asks frantically, furrowing her brow.

“Gone,” Shadowheart reiterates, raising the wine glass to her lips again. “When the investigators returned the following day alongside the medical examiner, only the three with the knife wounds remained.” She pulls a long drink from the glass. “The other two were nowhere to be found. As if they'd simply gotten up and walked away.”

Tav shivers, entire body twitching with the thought. “T-that doesn't mean it's Astarion, Shadowheart. It could be-”

“Could be what? Another vampire?” suggests Shadowheart, sarcastically. “I don't think Astarion would take kindly to someone else moving into his territory.” She sighs, clicking her tongue. “I'm sorry to say it, Tav, but it sounds an awful lot like him.”

The sounds of the tavern flood Tav’s ears. Her vision narrows to a single pinpoint, the edges of her vision growing fuzzy. She leans back in her seat and closes her eyes. “We don't know that,” Tav states, trying desperately to calm the wild beating of her heart. “We don't know what happened.” She shakes her head, slowly opening her eyes. “We won't know until the case is settled.”

“Why do you still defend him?” asks Shadowheart bluntly, mouth pulling into a displeased pout. “Surely you remember how badly he hurt you. Why continue to defend him at all?”

The question echoes in her mind. Why does she defend him? The man is a monster; an abomination, as Jaheira had called his child. Tav knows not who he’s become. Small glimpses of the man he once was shine through now and again, mostly when they argue. The stubborn selfishness of him reveals itself, inevitably bleeding into raw passion once she works at him enough. It almost makes her feel at home in his arms, albeit for a few hours.

“He wouldn't, Shadowheart. It's not like him…” Tav says, quietly. She's unsure if she believes it or if she's lying in an effort to convince herself that it's true. She's suddenly lost her appetite, pushing the plate of food away from her.

Shadowheart is quiet for some time, eyes cast down at the table. “Well,” she says, cutting through the silence, “let's hope he's as innocent as you say.”

Silence stretches across the table before the two women agree to shift the conversation elsewhere. They inevitably tie up their gathering, sharing an embrace and chaste kisses to the cheeks once again. They vow to meet the following week, and head out on their way.

Walking back toward her apartment, Tav's stomach begins to sour as she thinks over her conversation with Shadowheart. Vivid images of Astarion sinking his fangs into the necks of the alleged victims flood her mind's eye. She feels a tingling sensation over her own scars as she imagined how they must have felt. Could he have really done such a thing? The sounds of the city are almost absent from her ears as she ponders the question.

“Wait a minute,” she speaks aloud, freezing in place. Her eyes are cast down to the cobblestone street below as her heart fills with horror. Her mouth dries quickly, choking as she tries to breathe.

The last night she'd seen Astarion coincides almost exactly with the timeline of the murders within the sewers. If the report is true, then Astarion's enthusiasm that night wasn't solely due to want, necessarily. Tav dips into a small alley between two buildings, leaning against the brick wall as her knees grow weak.

No, his insistence was not due to missing her. It was attributed to blood-fueled lust, a state Tav has seen him in a number of times. She clasps a hand over her mouth as a sob suddenly racks her chest. Her whole body shakes as the horrific realization sinks deep into her bones. The puzzle aligns near perfectly as the thought continues to blossom.

Astarion had come to her bed after draining two people dry. He didn't spend time on their typical foreplay because he couldn't. Tav knows the power mortal blood has over him, and she doubts the ascension has changed that. She recalls how it all but possesses his thoughts, his feelings, and his body, enslaved by the sheer power of unbridled desire running through him.

Lurching forward, she begins to dry heave; a million thoughts race across her mind. He couldn't have done this on purpose, could he? He wouldn't. There's simply no way he would. Denial clouds her thoughts as saliva drips freely from her open mouth, gathering it together to spit upon the floor. Holding a hand to her stomach she rises, leaning her temple against the cool brick of the wall next to her. She closes her eyes, trying to calm her excitement with slow, deep breaths.

“No innocents; you have my word.”

Astarion's past promise to her rings loudly in her ears. It was from this promise their almost nightly affair to keep him well-fed began. Tav tries desperately to block out the memories of what would transpire after their sessions; how could she have not noticed? All the signs were there.

Because he didn't drink from me.

Her stomach churns again and she rubs her hand in a circular motion above her navel. Her chest burns as she chokes back tears. What to do, now? Does she wait until his next visit to confront him? When will that be? The anticipation will burn a hole through her soul, she knows. But, what other option does she have?

A small voice wrestles from within as she wipes her mouth with the back of a hand.

…Do I go to him?

The decision is made before the logical side of her mind can argue a rational point, her feet carrying her toward the Crimson Palace. She second guesses the choice; from some place within, a voice yells for her to reconsider.

He'll tell me the truth, surely, she argues against her doubt.

Right?

Aware that she's potentially putting herself in a grave position, Tav cannot rest until he tells her otherwise. She needs to hear from Astarion's own mouth that he didn't murder five people only to share her bed mere hours later. She needs to hear from him that he wouldn't do this, that he still abides by his promise to her, that her blood is all he's ever known.

“Why do I care so much?” Tav questions aloud to herself, practically running now toward the monastery. She shakes her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts; he will eventually drink the blood of others. If he is to create an army of spawn as he'd so claimed after the ritual, that would be the only way to do so.

They're no longer lovers; no longer deeply acquainted. They just sleep together, and she fell pregnant as a result.

Why does she care so much?

Before long, Tav stands before the immaculate palace. Grand mahogany doors stand proudly at the building's entrance, adorned with intricate carvings along the wood. Black metal knockers depicting the faces of gargoyles signal a way in. Tav’s hand reaches instinctively around the bell of one, pulling up.

Before she can complete the knock, the door creaks open. A faint glow from a distant light source cracks through the opening of the door and Tav releases the handle, stepping back. She freezes in place, fully expecting the door to continue opening. Yet, it halts, remaining only slightly ajar. Stale air greets her nostrils and a shiver passes through her.

Silence suddenly engulfs her, the sounds of the city falling dormant. As she surveys the area around her, Tav notes no other presence out on the street for as far as the eye can see. Her ears pick up the soft sound of someone humming, and she determines its origin lies within the palace.

An assimon carved into the middle of the marble trim along the heavy doors catches her attention as she looks up. Tav turns her head as she studies the figure; a young woman with long hair, eyes closed and wings outstretched as she holds a lance within one hand.

The humming from within the building turns into a tune and cuts through Tav’s daydream. She shakes her head briefly, regrouping. She can turn away now and forget this entire thing. Forget that this was even a thought that crossed her mind, leave, and no one would ever know she was here.

A quick flash of Astarion’s fangs piercing into skin flits across Tav’s vision. She winces. I simply must know, she reassures herself. Drawing in a deep breath, she steps forward.

Resting the flat of her palm against the door, Tav slowly pushes it open. The old metal and wood fuss loudly as the door gives way under the force of her hand. The faint glow of the light from within now pours out, illuminating the street behind her. With some hesitation, Tav steps over the threshold, disappearing into the palace.

#astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #bg3

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wisterialagoon · 9 months ago

Note

Heey I saw a post you made a while ago asking us to send you requests for Joker from windbreaker and im so happy that there is sb to write about him so can you write how him and the reader meet and then fast forward to how their relationship goes (preferably sfw)

Thank youuu for the request! Sorry this took forever, I've been busy lately!

Dating Joker Headcanons

Warnings: None, just fluff, reader owns a cafe!

I think Joker probably wouldn't date someone that runs in the same circles as him, he doesn't need someone else like that in his life and especially around his brothers.

You probably meet somewhere like a cafe. Just picture it, you've worked so hard to open your own cafe, pouring your heart and soul into it.

You have this regular customer, Hajun, he's real quiet and scary looking, but whenever he comes in he's just soooo polite and soft-spoken, you become quickly smitten!

One day, just before closing he stumbles in all bloody and bruised. In a panic you rush over to him scrambling to sit him down. He just grumbles out that he's fine, he just needs a coffee.

Obviously you're not having any of that! shushing him as you run to get your first aid kit. You patch him up and send him off with his coffee and a free cookie.

He insists on helping clean the little droplets of blood he tracked in but you refuse and tell him he can pay you back if he buys you a drink sometime. After that you two hit it off and the rest is history.

"For the love of GOD, if you touch the cookie dough again I'm going to beat your ass into the ground, Hajun, I swear!" you yell, slapping your boyfriends hand away, once again.

"I'd love to see you try, plus, you made plenty," he chuckles, reaching for the cookie dough again.

You swifly grab the bowl and run to the opposite side of the kitchen island, glaring at him. "I made plenty to bake and sell! This is my livelihood, If you eat all the dough then I'll have nothing to sell. I'll have to close the cafe and live on the streets. I'll have to find a cardboard box to sleep in!" you ramble, pacing around the kitchen like a mad woman.

Hajun just watches you with a quirked brow, "If ya want I can grab a box on the way outta work tomorrow, think I saw some boxes in the storage cupboard in the club," he smirks.

Your mouth gapes open as you stare at your boyfriend. "How COULD you? You'd let the love of your life, adorable, sweet, lovely girlfriend, live in a cardboard box?!"

"Oh sure, I'll leave the box outside my place and I'll come to feed ya every now and again." Hajun gives you a mischievous grin.

You slam the bowl of cookie dough down on the counter dramatically, "oh I'm SO breaking up with you!" you exclaim, flopping the top half of your body over the counter.

"Mhm, sure, I bet you are," Hajun teases as he walks around to you, planting a soft kiss to your head and walking away.

When you stand back up pouting, you notice a significant chunk of the cookie dough missing.

"Oh I'm gonna kill him."

#windbreaker joker x reader #Hajun windbreaker #Joker windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #Windbreaker #Jay jo #Vinny hong #Wooin #Sabbath crew #Sangho choi

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authorxxxxxx · 1 year ago

Text

Legends Are Made | Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Summary : 9 months after Ayrton Senna's fatal crash , Y/N Senna Da Silva was born in Rome , Italy and was defined by destiny carrying the same talent as her father's . At the very young age of 2 Y/N developed an interest upon her father's job and then entered the fascinating world of F1 . Growing up and moving from F3 to F2 her dream to bring back her father's legacy seemed to finally come true , when she joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team , becoming the first woman on the F1 grid . What she did not expect was that she would fall in love with an 5 times world time F1 champion , Lewis Hamilton .

TW : Mentions and descriptions of Ayrton Senna's fatal crash from the autopsy , Max is super mean upon the reader ( Red Bull is an absolute shit in this ) , anxiety and panick attacks , a lot of angst(y feeling's ) , tears ( both of sadness and happiness ) , Ayrton visit's the reader ( I was crying when I wrote this ) , but extreme fluff towards the end .

This idea came up to me back in May 1 of this year , and while I was listening to the song above Legends Are Made by Sam Tinnesz , I could not help myself and think of all the things that could have happened if Ayrton had a daughter with the same talent . After 3 months working on this I finally finished it .

Just remember that English is not my first language , so if you spot any mistakes just bare with me . ( It is a tw on it's own ) .

PS : I do not usually pour my entire heart and soul on every imagine that I write , but I actually did in this one - and I am proud of it - I hope you like it . I was literally crying the whole time .

Edit : Still crying .

19k words - i got reallyy away with this one

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May , 1 1994 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

Lap 7 . . . the car left the racing line at Tamburello and ran in a straight line off the track and struck an unprotected concrete barrier .

He tried to brake down .

He really did .

The car hit the wall at a shallow angle, tearing off the right front wheel and nose cone with 211 km/h .

" Ayrton Senna crashed after the Tamburello corner and smashed with the barrier . Red Flag . The safety car is on it's way . We may need an ambulance for this . " The presenter said with an anxious tone in his voice .

Ayrton tried moving his head but the pain was insufferable .

After that he lost his vision and everything turned black .

" Ayrton Senna Da Silva , a truly staggering talent is dead at the age of 34 years old , after crashing his W16 on the concrete barrier . We lost without any doubt one of the best or maybe the best F1 racing driver." The same presenter said after a couple of hours after the incident .

Ayrton Senna Da Silva - your father - was dead .

_____

January 8th 1995 , Rome , Italy

It was a sunny but cold day when your mother gave birth to you .

Y/N Senna Da Silva . . . the one and only daughter of the F1 champion Ayrton Senna .

You did not know it yet but you would grow up without your dad .

Although you carried something very special within your heart .

His talent was passed over to you , something that your mother tried desperately to avoid .

At the young age of 2 , after watching for the first time a F1 race , one of your dad's , you could not help but wonder about all these fast cars that were racing in big circles .

You were amazed by the colors and the sounds of the engine's .

Your mother did everything in her power to keep you away from F1 and she thought she had succeeded , until one day when she picked you up from the Kindergarten you were crying and sniffling your nose.

When she asked you what happened the only answer you could give was more tears and the phrase " The other kids say that I don't have a dad , because he left me . "

That phrase still keeps you and your mother awake at night .

After that incident she decided to show you one of your father's races.

You loved it .

Little did she know that you had the same talent as your father and she could not keep you away from it .

After a couple of months , you entered the F1 worlds by going into karting .

_____

By the time you were 15 years old , you were able to perfectly drive a F3 car . Your coach said that it would be too easy for you to move from karting to F3 and then F2 .

" You are just like your father . " Your mother said to you on your first big crash .

You had a few big scratches but nothing that could stop you from raicing .

" What do you mean ? " You asked her back trying to convince your mother on telling you more .

After a few hours of you talking you found out more information about your father's tragic death .

" I saw it live on the TV . He was motionless . He had so many injuries ih his head . There was so much blood . You could see it from afar . Thereafter he did not move again . He called me before the race saying that he had a feeling , that something bad will happen to him."

" How ironic " She thought .

__________

' The resemblance is almost scary . ' You thought while you were looking at your debut photo , that the Mercedes AMG Petronas team had published .

It was 100 % sure that you were your father's daughter .

You had the exact same curls at the end of your hair , big honey color doe eyes , that cute little nose and those same full dark pink lips .

You even had the same stance .

Same fashion style . Heck even some clothes of his where now on your closet .

You were practically the same .

But you were not on the same F1 team .

While your father had the best time in McLaren , you joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team in 2015 .

Being 25 years old you became the youngest amongst everyone , but what made it even worse is that you were the first woman on the F1 grid .

The night before your first public appearance you couldn't sleep .

You were worried and anxious .

Thinking about people's opinions made it even worse that it already was .

Getting up you decided to go to the kitchen at take those sleeping pills your doctor prescribed for you .

And before you knew it you entered the dream space - or so you thought .

" You know that you can not go on like this for long right ? " A man's voice spoke from your left side of the bed .

A voice you have heard before but can not pinpoint exactly where .

" This is not a dream Y/N you can answer me . "

Y/N .

He knows my name .

' I know his voice . ' You thought .

And then it hit you right in the face .

" Dad ? " You asked tears on your face while you where slowly turning to his direction .

He smiled .

He smiled to you .

Your dad smiled to you .

Suddenly you felt someone embracing you - a soft kiss on your forehead .

You hugged him back .

Your dad was here - hugging you and telling you he loves you .

" I am always with you , you are safe . " He told you .

By now you were crying uncontrollably .

" I love you so much Y/N . "

" Do not leave me alone dad . Please . " You begged him through sobs.

" Never Y/N . I love you ." He said to you one last time before you fell asleep .

And he was right .

He never left your side .

You woke up after 8 hours of sleeping , with his cross on your nightstand beside the photo you had of him .

You were safe .

__________

One year had passed since you first saw your father for the first time .

Everything was going great with the team - almost .

You and Lewis Hamilton were practically best friends by now .

' The best duo on the whole grid ' . Everyone said .

Fans going crazy on Twitter shiping both of you .

You had become great friends with Daniel Riccardo and Carlos Sainz.

You had a good relationship with Fernando Alonso and Perez although you did not talk much , but you respected each other .

You and Valtteri Bottas became buddy's through Tiffany and you had the best time pranking Lewis .

Sebastian Vettel was something else entirely .

He respected you and helped you in any way possible . Being the oldest one in the grid helping others with his own ways , made him the father of the grid .

The only one who did not speak to you was Verstappen .

Max Verstappen .

He looked at you with such hate .

Did not talk at you .

Even when you had to sit net to him in interviews he always switched seats with somebody else .

Atleast you were thankful that nothing ever happened .

__________

Two years had passed by .

The best two years of your life .

Your relationship with Lewis was stronger than before .

At least that's what you thought from your part .

You liked him .

Actually you liked him even more than a friend .

God you even loved him at this point .

But you desided to keep it to yourself , not wanting to mess up your frienship or even worse jeopardize your partnership .

Valtteri joined Mercedes and for once you though that they would ask you to transfer , but Toto Wolff would never do it . Especially after watching you getting close to Susie an having the best time babysitting their kids .

In the Brazilian GP of 2017 you finished first place earning the respect of Kimi Raikkonen and becoming close buddy's .

You were always sending food posts and memes in each other and you even died from laughter when you first watched Jackass while babysitting his kids .

Everything was going great until the Abu Dhabi GP .

Valtteri finished first , Lewis second , Sebastian third , Kimi fourth , you fifth and in the sixth place Max .

You had overtake him in last possible minute earning your place in your father's hometown - something that Max did not like at all and decided to make it show in the press conference later .

__________

" My name is Joseph from the F1 Magazine and my question is for Miss Y/N Senna . Y/N you were so good today and I am a 100 % that next year you will win the Championship . I can not help but wonder though and it is something that a lot of people are asking - today you came in the grid with some of your father's clothes . Is there a particular reason ? " He asked you .

" I actually do it all the time since some of his clothes fit me and I believe that he had the best style back then and since now Lewis has stolen that place I need to bring it back . " You answered smiling and making a little joke about Lewis that alot of people loved .

Especially him .

" That is great . My next question is for everyone and it is about what cars do you drive . Can we start with Mr . Vettel . " The interviewer asked with a smile .

" Well I have a Golf . " Carlos said and everybody laughed .

" And you Max ? " The guy asked him .

" I drive a Ferrari , not like someone else that drives a Golf or an almost 30 year old car . " Max said hating on Carlos and you .

You drove your father's famous red Honda NSX and actually own a really big percentage of the Honda NSX cars and you were extremely proud about it .

" Okay . See you on Twitter . " Carlos said know full well that Max is going to get so many new haters .

Sebastian was not proud , Kimi was laughing at Max's stupidity , Daniel was embarrassed and Lewis was furious .

" Y/N what do you have to say about this ? " The guy named Joseph asked you .

" First of all I agree with Carlos and second I am proud of driving such a car . Actually you can ask Mr. Mibe the CEO of Honda and he can assure you that my 30 year old Honda's are far more better that just a plain Ferrari . Thank you . " You answered making everyone in the room speechless .

" Well I totally agree . " Sebastian said laughing .

" She owns the division of the Honda Acura , she can buy all the Ferrari's he owns and plenty more . " Kimi said making everyone speechless again .

Carlos was right , because Twitter was going wild after the press conference was published .

__________

To say that you were mentally drained was a statement .

You were currently crying your eyes out .

Lewis and his dog Roscoe were on your side .

" I just wished the season didn't end like this . " You said while Lewis was hugging you .

" It's okay silly , everyone is on your side . Look even Kimi talked after a really long time . " Lewis said and you both laughed .

Suddenly you were both looking at each other in the eyes and before you noticed it Lewis had capped your face in his palms and pressed his lips at you .

You were so shocked that you did not realize that you had not kissed him back .

Your unresponsiveness made him believe that he was getting wrong .

'' I am so sorry Y/N I kno that you did- " Lewis said but you interupted him .

" Why did you stop ? " You asked him making him froze in his tracks .

It is safe to say that he kissed you back again something that went on about hours and hours on end until Roscoe got jealous of it and started to bark in your faces .

You stayed in Lewis hands for a while , until a scared Toto stormed inside the room .

" Next GP ? Imola , San Marino circuit . " He announced for both of you to hear , but was looking directly at you .

Imola , San Marino - where your father had lost his life .

__________

May , 1 2018 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

"Today's atmosphere is heavy . We are in San Marino , Imola circuit where Ayrton Senna lost his life . Now we are waiting for the race to start as we have Y/N Senna Da Silva driving for the Mercedes AMG Petronas team . Toto Wolff specifically asked for the press to not be outside of the Mercedes pit . Y/N is already anxious and worried enough . We hope and pray for the best . In my opinion she is the best driver of this generation . " The same presenter that witnessed your father's death , spoke about you .

' 5 minutes till the race start's ' . You said to yourself .

You were inside your car , wearing your father's famous yellow helmet, his cross on your neck inside of your clothes .

Lewis had begged you not to do it .

Daniel and Carlos were totally afraid .

Kimi had retired .

Sebastian knew that it was dangerous but you wouldn't badge .

Your boyfriend - Lewis - was looking at you , pleading you with his eyes from his car to not do it .

Valtteri did not intervene .

You started from P4 , Sebastian in P3 , Valtteri in P2 and Lewis in P1 .

And the race started .

__________

You don't know how many laps you had done , you weren't counting them .

Everytime you approached the Tamburello racing line until you pass it , your heart was dropping on your stomach , you had trouble breathing .

You were thinking of him .

You thinking about your father .

Your mind was your enemy at this point telling you to 'look at the corner' .

You heart your companion was telling you 'do not look at the corner' .

'What if I lose control of the car and smash into the barier ? '

' What if I die ? '

' Mom is going to be devastated . '

'Lewis . . . oh my Lewis . . . '

' What if ? '

But despite your heart telling you to not look at the corner near the racin line in Tamburello , you did it and what you saw made everything stop .

__________

It is like you were watching the scene unfold it's self from afar .

You were back in 1994 .

Your car was on the other side of the road parked - you standing at the side of it .

Suddenly your father's car ran off the track and was struck an unprotected concrete barrier at 211km/h .

You could hear everything .

You could see everything .

You could smell everything .

Blood -

Your father's blood -

Tears streamed on your face like falls , your hands trembling while you were running to your father to save him .

But Death was far more powerful .

Before you could go and grab him , a hand engulfed your right wrist .

Your dad was standing besides you - his unconscious body still inside the car .

You started panicking , blindness covering your eyes - head dizzy .

" Y/N breath for me come on honey listen to me . " Your dad instructed you .

Trying to concentrate on your father's voice , you did not see his body getting lift out ofthe car , bones broken , blood everywhere .

After a while your father took you back to the side of your car , watching himself being lifted into a helicopter .

" What was the last thing you felt ? " You asked him .

" The taste of blood in my mouth and pain . " He answered calmly .

" I love you dad . " You said to him and hugged him again searching for his embrace .

You cried again .

" I love you too . Stop unsettling your mind with uneasy thoughts and go finish that race . Okay champion ? " Your father said to you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead .

Suddenly you were inside you car racing at 211km/h passing the Tamburello racing line - with your father's voice saying that he loves you watching him with tears in your eyes waiving at you from the corner .

__________

" AND Y/N SENNA DA SILVA IS THE WINNER OF THE IMOLA GRAND PRIX AND THE F1 WORLD CHAMPION OF 2018 " . The presenter scream in his microphone when your car overtook Sebastian's and finished in 1st place .

Your team was screaming , but all you could see and hear was your father saying ' I love you ' and ' I am so proud of you ' .

Only when Lewis hand landed on your shoulder you looked up - at him with tears in your red eyed from crying .

He helped you to get out of your car , took of your helmet and your balaclava , staring at you .

He grabbed your face - " What happened love ? " He asked you .

" I saw everything Lewis . I saw my dad . "

__________

You were currently standing with the Brazilisn flag on your shoulders , trophy on your hands , closed eys and head looking up , while everyone - even the fans - were all silent .

After you rised for your national anthem you asked for a minute of silence for your father .

The wind was blowing - and when something made you shiver but feel safe at the same time - you knew that your father was sitting besides you .

After one minute tears of happiness fell from your eyes .

__________

2023

You are now 28 years old , married with Lewis from 2019 with one beautiful baby boy .

You were still racing .

But today was a special day .

It was your son's birtand he was turning 3 years old .

You've desided with Lewis to go and wake him up , since you've prepared his favourite breakfast and after you would let him open his gifts .

" Goodmorning Ayrton Happy Birthday honey " You both said to your son to wake him up .

Mom's and Dad's and Thank you's could be heard all over the apartment as your son was driving his toy car around the house while holding a cookie .

Chocolate was plastered all over his face .

You were both happy smiling at him .

And then suddenly you heard your son screaming in the leaving room-

" I woak up in a new Ferrari . "

" I swear I am going to kill Carlos and Charles the moment I see them." Lewis said to you while you were uncontrollably laughing .

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@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@k----a27s

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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