#n i keep adding more 🤩🤩🤩

[dizzybizz]

that one cyborg cowboy from my gaym

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘪. (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦) 🍊

⤷ summary: saudi arabian and australian grands prix happen! y/n starts making vlogs for the races and it reveals more about her and a certain driver's feelings than she hoped, not that she notices. poor oscar's stuck in the middle of it all but he's trying his best!

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liked by f1, landonorris, and 55,007 others

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

mclaren saudi arabia, you were beautiful even if the results weren't! ready for what's to come

12,567 comments

user1 admin not using a single nice photo of the drivers 😭

user2 admin be honest is this your revenge era

mclaren well, yes!

user3 HELP MEEEE

user4 the way lando looks at her 😭

user5 this is a place of business

user6 oscar looks petrified 💀

mclaren dw guys we're still training him!

oscarpiastri wtf why would u say it like that, i'm not a dog

mclaren full-time team mascot, part time driver

user7 admin drop the insta your so pretty 😭😭

user8 no literally, content of her WHERE

mclaren ynusername 🤲🏼

user9 LETS FUCKING GO

user10 HER DISSING HER OWN TEAM 💀 THEY'RE GONNA FIRE YOU GIRL

mclaren they don't pay me to LIE

user11 CRAZYY

user12 LANDO IS NEVER GETTING A GOOD PIC EVER AGAIN 😭

mclaren what can i say, i am no mans peace 🥱

user13 icon

landonorris reporting you to hr

mclaren for what

landonorris idk harrassment or something

mclaren ok keyboard warrior, lets calm down 💀

user14 KEYBOARD WARRIOR HELEPSJSM

user15 i vote admin just takes over and we don't even get driver pictures

user16 real and true

user17 i fear we may have lost the plot

user18 thoughts on today's results

mclaren i'm trying to be positive in general but man

user19 LMAOOOOO

user20 ik the pr department is shaking in their boots after every post notif

mclaren probably! but unfortunately for everyone, i am going to keep doing whatever i want

user21 no more lando beef, mclaren admin?

mclaren i forget but i never forgive. i forgot why we were fighting but i stay hating bitches 🥱

landonorris literally WHAT DID I DO

mclaren IDK BUT IK U PISSED ME OFF 🫵

oscarpiastri diabolical photo choice

oscarpiastri i look like a little kid on picture day

mclaren so basically your everyday look

oscarpiastri yk what you are making this work environment very hostile

mclaren i can make it more hostile if you want 🤨

oscarpiastri nevermind!!!

maxfewtrell most flattering lando picture i've seen in years

mclaren that's saying something isn't it 🤩

user22 i went to haterville and they all knew you admin

mclaren they actually just elected me mayor there!!! 💪🏻

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liked by bsfusername, landonorris, and 17,800 others

ynusername if my admin duties don't kill me, i promise my caffeine addiction will! (:

3,422 comments

user23 be honest, how many coffees have you had today

ynusername 3!

user24 oh that's not that bad

ynusername +5

user24 JESUS CHRSUT

bsfusername at this point i think meth would be healthier

ynusername honestly yeah

ynusername thanks for the suggestion!!

user25 nooo admin don't do meth ur so sexy aha

ynusername that just made me want to do meth more

landonorris so what i'm hearing is buying you an espresso machine would get me in your good graces 😇

user26 oh brother here he goes

ynusername you must be deaf then

landonorris 😔 2 espresso machines?

ynusername i don't want ur dirty espresso machines 🙄

oscarpiastri now what car is that 🫵

ynusername SHHHHH

oscarpiastri TRAITOR

bsf2username when your not busy being super sexy on a race track, can we go thrifting and get sweetgreen and overpriced coffee 🙏🏼🙏🏼

ynusername this could've been an email, get this out of my comments 💀

ynusername but yeah obviously

user27 admin vlogs when 😔

ynusername SOON!!! very very soon

user28 mother feeding us once again

ynusername brb, adding single mom who works two jobs, loves her kids, and never stops to my resume

danielricciardo coffee recipe where?

ynusername in your dms now ‼���

danielricciardo is this flirting

ynusername no if i was flirting i would've told you to ask me in person, i'm just being charitable

landonorris can i get the coffee recipe too then 🤲🏼

ynusername wdy want next, my mugs? keep on walking charity case

user29 CHARITY CASE IS CRAZYDFHAJ

user30 she's so effortlessly funny and mean i love her

user31 i feel like this is so unprofessional /:

ynusername babe professional where, you are on??? my personal?? account???

user32 maybe she's born with it, maybe it's the fact that she's consumed enough caffeine to tranquelize a horse

user33 oh please the horse would be dead

ynusername call an ambulance, BUT NOT FOR ME ‼️💪🏻🗣️

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ynusername posted to story!

(caption: melbourne vlog out now on youtube, go watch!!)

15,221 replies

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now loading...

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"This thing better be working," could be heard slightly muffled in between vague shuffling sounds. After a second or two of incoherent noise, the camera footage finally came on. Y/N smiled at herself in the camera as the recording light blinked to life, and raised her hand victoriously. She grabbed the smile microphone in front of her and laughed, "It looks like everything is working. Thank God, I wouldn't have known how to fix it otherwise."

"Alright everybody, welcome to the first race weekend vlog hosted by me! Your favorite McLaren admin and social manager. It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to go about this, but now I think I settled on a format that will work," She explained as she walked around the small, clean kitchen that was within frame of the camera. She pulled a glass jar out of her cabinets and left it on the counter before pulling a jug of cold brew and a cartridge of milk out of her fridge.

"It is currently 7:30 A.M on March 29th, and I have a flight to Melbourne in 3 hours. I'm already packed and ready for this weekend, but I wanted to get an introduction filmed and I wanted to take a shower before I left." Y/N paused for a moment as she poured the coffee into her mason jar until she seemed satisfied and began to add some milk. "I am totally exhausted so this is probably cup one of like," she laughed, "I don't know seven probably. And this is a pretty big jar I won't lie."

"The race weekend doesn't technically start until Friday, so I'll be getting there a bit early, but I wanted to film some content before the race weekend gets really hectic, so McLaren is sending me a little bit earlier. I'm excited though! I love the heat, even if I live in London the antithesis of Australian weather," she taste-tested her coffee and hummed in delight.

"God I really never miss with this stuff," she said contently. "Anyway, it's a bit of an early start today, but I'll have plenty of time to sleep on the fight. I mean can you believe that London to Melbourne is a nearly 22 hours," she scoffed. "I vote that we start making all of the races in one place so I don't have to feel jet lag more painful than the force of 1,000 suns every other weekend. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled awkwardly, "I love my job McLaren please don't fire me."

Abruptly an orange tabby cat came into the frame of the camera, causing Y/N to abruptly grab her glass jar in the hopes of avoiding a mess. She gasped, but laughed as the cat scampered off as quickly as it had come. She shook her head fondly.

"That, ladies and gentleman, was Cali! My cat. She's literally my baby, and I love her more than anything else on this earth. However, she does have an affinity for hitting things off of counters and breaking them. She also hates men and nearly all other animals, so she's basically the world's biggest hazard to society. She's a good girl, I love her." Y/N explained between sips of coffee as she stared wistfully past the the frame of the camera, where it could be assumed Cali had gone.

Abruptly an alarm went off and Y/N threw her head back with a groan.

"That means I have to get in the shower and get ready so I can leave on time," she said, before taking a few more sips of coffee. "I'm going to go do that, and the next time you'll hear my beautiful voice will be at the Melbourne Airport! Cue the travel montage!"

An assortment of clips follow. Y/N is seen dragging her luggage through Heathrow Airport. Y/N is seen ordering another coffee at the airport, finishing the coffee, and ordering another before her flight. Y/N is seen responding to emails from her airplane seat, editing video footage, and responding to instragram and twitter comments. Footage is shown outside the plane window of a cloudy, blue sky and a time lapse is shown as the sky grows beautiful shades of pink and red before becoming a starry-night sky. Y/N is seen cozy in a throw blanket and a travel pillow, presumably asleep with headphones on. Y/N is shown pulling her luggage through the airport once again, with a brand new coffee cup in hand. She smiles, taking a sip before she is seen settled down in a seat in the bustling airport.

"Twenty-two or so hours later and I have finally landed in Melbourne. I'm waiting for my Uber to get here so I can finally be taken to my hotel to drop my stuff off. I have a meeting with the McLaren drivers in two hours, but luckily I slept really well on the plane. I don't know how else I would be able to deal with Lando Norris. I'm going to finish this coffee in order to maximize my tolerance for the next few hours, but I suspect I'll be getting a new coffee before I reach that meeting. My addiction truly knows no bounds," she laughs, trying to ignore the people vaguely shown within frame that are staring at her speaking to a camera.

The camera cuts abruptly and the waiting screen from SpongeBob flashes on the screen, including the narrator's voice reading "2 hours later."

Y/N is shown once again in new clothes, a new coffee cup in hand, and luggage replaced by a small canvas bag. Her comfortable plane clothes have been swapped out for jean shorts and a plain white tank-top. Her hair is clipped back out of her face, and she is adorned with simple gold jewelry and light makeup.

Y/N smiles at the camera as she walks, bustling and talking heard around her, before whispering into the small microphone, "I have arrived at the McLaren garage. It is now time to meet with Lord Lando and workplace mascot Oscar Piastri," the titles slip off her tongue sarcastically and she doesn't bother suppressing an eye-roll.

In the next clip, Oscar and Lando are seen seated on either side of her as they sit in what seems like a board-room. Lando leans over and whispers something that the camera doesn't pick up and Oscar laughs while Y/N grimaces and reaches forward to readjust the camera. When the camera comes back on, Lando and Oscar are seated together on the left of Y/N as she faces on angle toward both them and the camera.

"Don't just sit there and look pretty, say hello to the camera boys," Y/N says and Oscar cackles at the disgruntled look on Lando's face.

"Is that your way of calling me pretty Y/N," Lando chokes out between laughs, and Y/N scoffs with an eye-roll.

"I was actually talking about Oscar, but whatever floats your little papaya boat Norris," Y/N deadpans and Oscar doubles over from the force of his laughter at the pout on Lando's face.

"That's not nice at all, I hope you know that. I think I am sitting here very prettily, thank you very much," Lando says, leaning into the girl next to him to speak into her microphone.

Y/N draws the microphone back, swatting him away, "Yes, yes quite prettily," Y/N mocks in a British accent.

Oscar, still trying to recover, joins in, "Pretty little Lando Norris," and Y/N laughs jovially, reaching across Lando as if the boy weren't there to high-five the Austrialian driver.

"Bullies, the lot of you," Lando mumbles and Y/N brushes off his comment without response before finally facing the camera.

"Anyway, welcome to the first McLaren race weekend vlog. I'm Y/N L/N, the best media manager in the whole god damn world, and this is Lando Norris, the biggest pain in my ass, and Oscar Piastri, the second biggest pain in my ass. How are you feeling about Melbourne boys?" Y/N questions, transitioning smoothly much to the British driver's chagrin.

"Feeling proud to be the second biggest pain in the ass and not the first. Probably the only time i've been glad to get second actually," Oscar comments and Y/N laughs as Lando shakes his head in disappointment.

"But in all seriousness it is good to be home, this is easily my favorite race of the year seeing as it's my home race and i'm looking forward to, hopefully, good results from our team," Oscar supplies and Y/N nods along to his words.

"Yes, Australia, we are in you and we are happy about it," both boys choked out a laugh at the manager's sexual innuendo and Oscar quickly covered his mouth with his hand so as not to react too much. "What about you Lando what are you feeling," Y/N questioned, leaning the small microphone to the boy.

"Feeling like that was a stupid joke. And also like I am going to be getting P1 this weekend. I can feel it in my bones."

"Leave my jokes alone Lando, you're not being paid to be a critic," she scoffed, "and if I recall, you said the same thing in Saudi Arabia not that long ago. What's changed now?"

Lando rolled his eyes, "What's changed is that we're in Australia now and I'm feeling much more confident."

"Well thank god for that," Y/N supplied unhelpfully as Oscar laughed.

"Now, what we really came here for, it's time to film a video for this channel, it's going to be a fan Q and A, I picked the questions. By the time this vlog is up, the QnA should've already been posted. So feel free to stop watching this and to go watch that or whatever," Y/N commented. "After that we're going to film a TikTok challenge," both and Lando and Oscar grimaced, but Y/N ignored their dismay at the idea of fiming yet another TikTok, so cue the montage! Filming time!" Y/N exclaimed and the screen transitioned to a new series of clips.

In the first clip Oscar and Lando were sitting in two chairs while Y/N sat across from them with a set of notecards.

"Lando, this question from user "ln4mania" asks, "Are you and admin actually friends? Or is the online beef real? The people demand answers!" Y/N reads off with a laugh.

"Do you hear that, the people demand answers Lando! Don't keep them waiting!" Oscar and Y/N laugh as Lando shakes his head and tucks his face into his hands.

"There is no beef, guys. Me and admin, or rather me and Y/N are just fine. We hadn't even actually met when that happened," Lando supplied between laughs. Y/N looked at the camera and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, faux-disagreeing with the boy.

She ignored the simmering pit of disappointment in her stomach. She did in fact have a problem with entitled little Lando Norris who still gave her side-eyed looks and judgmental stares whenever he saw her. If that wasn't humiliating enough, Oscar had clearly noticed it too, which just gave Y/N the feeling that she wasn't being taken seriously at all now that Oscar understood Lando's lack of respect for Y/N. However that didn't matter in the current moment. All that mattered was making this video.

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar sitting at a table with bowls of water in front of them and towels strewn across a chair just within frame of the camera. Y/N stood behind them, hands rested in their hair as she reacted to the prompts being read by someone, an unnamed media intern, off-camera.

"Who is harder to make videos with?" The intern asked and Y/N huffed out a laugh as she let her hands fully grasp Lando's curls and push him into the water quickly. He sputtered, trying to blink the water out of his eyes as Y/N laughed at the wet-puppy dog look he was sporting.

Y/N tried to shake the ridiculous desire to let her hands run through the soft curls underneath her finger tips. Curse Lando and whatever stupidly good, rich-person hair routine he used that made him smell good and look good, and... whatever.

Lando, blinking water out of his eyes, was now undoubtedly certain that being damn-near waterboarded was worth it if it meant that Y/N would laugh like that again. He knew Oscar would harass him again later for being "down-bad" or something along those lines- as he had done every time he caught the man staring-, but as he caught a glimpse of Y/N's bright smile and shaking shoulders, he found he didn't really care.

The next clip showed Oscar, Lando, Y/N, and a laughing media intern as they all dried off- somehow all having become wet through the course of filming. Y/N dried herself off quickly, taking a sip of her newly refilled coffee, not seeing the way that only the camera and Oscar saw Lando stared at her until the driver was nudged back into focus on drying himself off.

A title-card once again came on the screen with white words on a photo collage of Australian grand-prix candids that Y/N had taken, reading "Race montage? More likely than you'd think."

Footage was shown of the free practice sessions. Oscar and Lando getting in and out of their cars. Engineers along the pit wall going over data. The team speaking incoherently, going over the game plan for Sunday's race. Oscar and Lando greeting fans, signing merch, and posing for photos. Y/N smiling and waving at a cheering crowd of people before staring at the camera incredulously with a small caption reading: "Omg she's famous your honor". More clips showed Lando laughing as Oscar tossed grapes and Lando moved to catch them with his mouth. Lando nearly choking as Y/N cackled in the background. Multiple clips showing Y/N with a fresh coffee, and another... and another, as Oscar's face in the background grew with concern. Zak Brown explaining to Y/N the dangers of caffeine overdose, and the need for moderation. Y/N explaining to Zak Brown that without coffee she would simply collapse and die, which the camera showed did nothing to ease her concern. Y/N getting caps signed by the drivers for fans and walking away with intricate friendship bracelets decorating her wrists.

And finally footage of the race. The engineers in the garage. The pit-crew changing tires. The cars racing past as Y/N watched attentively. Footage of the crowd as they cheered when the cars whizzed past. Smiling faces of fans. Y/N's cheers as Oscar and Lando passed. The smiling faces of McLaren employees as Lando and Oscar crossed the checkered flag in P6 and P8 respectively.

Y/N accepting hugs from both drivers, ignoring the burning sensation in her stomach as Lando wrapped his arms around her with a smile and a laugh. Y/N calling Lando smelly and telling him to go wash off if he wants to hug her next time, and him rolling his eyes at her fondly before making a face at the camera. The podium celebration is shown and Y/N smiles as the anthem plays, even though it's not for her own team.

The final clip is shown of Y/N in her hotel room, comfortable in sweats as she sits on the unmade bed.

"Not bad results this week guys! P6 for Lando and P8 for Oscar, which are good points for the team. I'm happy on my end, I think we got some good content filmed, and I am now ready to go to sleep so I can get home to Cali and my own bed quicker. I hope you enjoyed this video, and if you didn't don't tell me because I don't care!" Y/N jokes with a smile.

"Hopefully I will see you all at the next race, if not the race after that! Bye papaya fans, and be sure to follow us on instagram and all of the other social platforms!" Y/N exclaimed, gesturing to the list of the social media handles that appeared on her right hand side.

And with that, the camera cut to black.

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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 29,145 others

ynusername afraid to report that i fought jetlag and lost 😔 i did sleep for 25 hours straight after melbourne and i had no clue where i was when i woke up! shout out cali for waking me up 🙏🏼 best friend frl

9,547 comments

bsfusername i'm going to try not to be offended by that caption (love you bb cali) but FUCK YOU CAUSE I BOUGHT YOUR ASS BREAKFAST

ynusername my bad! s/o to that bomb ass omlette 🤩

bsfusername never doing shit for you again

user34 that vlog was god tier, how long did that take

ynusername it took 7 hours of editing and years off my life, thanks so much for asking 🥳

maxverstappen1 thanks again for those podium photos! you have a gift for photography 💪🏻

ynusername don't mention it! 👍🏼

ynusername (no seriously, mclaren might behead me)

mclaren beheading is so last year. firing squad. 🗣️

user35 not y/n threatening herself 💀

oscarpiastri suprised your body didn't naturally wake up for coffee

ynusername it did! just 25 hours later

user36 your poor cat was literally starving for a whole day? youre a horrible owner

ynusername let me introduce you to god's greatest creation: the automatic feeder!!! i'm sure they can mail one to whatever fucking rock you live under!

user37 PERIODDDD

user38 me personally? i'd never log on again

user39 she needs a personal channel 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'd subscribe

user40 her cat is so cute 😭😭😭 gimme that

ynusername 🫵 STAY BACK HEATHEN, NO ONE TOUCHES CALI AND LIVES

user40 my bad fam 🧍🏻‍♀️

user41 i want someone to love me as much as she loves that mean ass cat

landonorris don't you have a job to be doing 💀💀 she slept through a full work day

user42 lando always on her ass and for whattttt

user43 obsessed obsessed obsessed

ynusername i had the day off! but not the guy who was streaming video games coming for me 🥱 talking bout get a job

user44 lando and y/n beefing on insta again? we're so back

user45 at this point instagram comment beef isn't enough, they need to duel or some shit

user46 the caffeine addiction almost got her guys

ynusername i wish it would, then i wouldn't have to work with lando's annoying ass

landonorris I CAN SEE YOUR COMMENTS???

ynusername THAT'S THE POINT

user47 honestly just give her a gun atp, these men test her too damn much

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user48 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S RIGHT HERE

user49 no fr, like let's get back to bed grandma

user50 OP, are you concussed?

user51 no actually cause didn't y/n just say she wanted to khs working with him 💀💀

pastryboy81 that sign can't stop me, because i can't read!

user53 OK I ACTUALLY SEE THE VISION

user54 ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED???!1!1

user55 i fear i totally get it 😔

user56 it's giving enemies to lovers, secret relationship type vibe lowkkkk

user57 no deadass like he hugged her reallll tight

user58 she also hugged oscar 😭😭?? and he has a whole gf

user59 the way she shoved him off and told him he reeked not 5 seconds after 💀 delusion is a disease yall

user60 someone call the f1 gossip pages cause 😗

user61 more like someone call the ward cause somethings real off with yall 🤨

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sorry that this update took forever, i had surgery and recovery has been rougher than i expected! hope you enjoy!!

please leave your thoughts in the comments and feel free to drop a request for your fav in my asks <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[anadiasmount]

more of us - jude bellingham insta au

au based off the song slime you out by sza ft (tw) drake, let me love you by mario, and angel by shaggy 🤍 broken up and you’re thriving but one can’t keep watching your stories and sliding up 🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️

ynusername posted on their stories! 🔒

judebellingham sent a reply to your story!

↪️ jesus christ women…

↪️ who you with??

↪️ you good?

seen two hours ago**

ynusername added to their story! 🔒

judebellingham sent a reply to your story!

↪️ you’re killing me here y/n…

↪️ fit check my ass. this should be for my eyes only.

↪️ yourreply: funny but you lost me remember? wasn’t good enough, sum like that. ur words not mine 👍

seen a minute ago**

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judebellingham posted on their feed!

liked by: jobebellingham, gioreyna, vinijr, camavinga, brahmin, tonikroos, 1,267,569.

judebellingham: fit checks and lyrics.

comments:

vinijr: really bro? 😆

gioreyna: oh… what a coincidence! 😁

jobebellingham: did you really show your appreciation tho?

↪️ judebellingham: stfu i’m working on it.

user81: this post looks familiar…

username20: so who’s the girl? 🤨

username85: he’s taken?

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messages:

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judebellingham added to their story!

gioreyna replied to your story:

↪️ let me guess… she said no 👎

↪️ judebellingham: no, she said ‘idk’

jobebellingham replied to your story:

↪️ seriously? this ain’t proving nothing 😭

↪️ judebellingham: hop off my dick… at least she saw it

——————————

ynusername posted on their story! 🔒

judebellingham replied to your story:

↪️ always super proud of you, beautiful!

↪️ you deserve it after all your hard work 🤍

↪️ wish i could’ve taken you to celebrate, ik how much this means to you.

↪️ yourreply: tysm, jude!🤍 it does mean a lot, unfortunately we’re on different roads :((

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messages:

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news/media and messages:

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ynusername🔒

liked by: yourfriend, yourbsf, judebellingham, username05, westonmckennie, others.

yourusername: mirror selfies and music 🎧👍

comments:

user08: okay song lyric 😍

username56: ermmmmm…?!?

judebellingham: 😍😍😍

judebellingham: mine. all mine

judebellingham: answer texts

judebellingham: “september, we fallin' off, but im still the man you tryna win over…”

↪️ ynusername: “ironic how the news i got about you ended up bein' bad news”

westonmckennie: 😍😍😍

liked by ynusername!

user23: you’re so beautiful!!

liked by ynusername!

rubendias: hermosa 🤩

liked by ynusername!

yourbsf: ate the boots up 😵‍💫😋

↪️ yourusername: you with your phrases 😂🤍

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judebellingham added to their story!

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[cryptidghostgirl]

Here is a fic ask? Or an idea that popped into my head! Soo I got this idea of Fem! Reader being this Nephalem thing, she made some deal with God, and God lost, she was aloud to make some corrupt angels.

More on reader, she works at the hotel, posing as a normal demon, but she doesn't sing nor dance, how odd because everyone does!..

Adam being her next target, they strike a deal that if he gets the idea of Extermination he can have one thing of whatever he wanted of course reader wanted something in return, his wings. It happened but than he soon died, and before he truly died, Adam could hear he voice, and this holy but demonic chain and parper appeared, indicating he made a deal made literally everyone freeze.

Singing this song, is basically Reader angel and demon side debating what to do! https://youtu.be/0Y9rL6xpvlk?si=i_rjScHV8Kg2qwjp

I can imagine the reactions of the others that where there. 🤩💃🕺

Her taking Adam's precious wings instead of his soul, I can imagine she probably has Lucifer, the other deadly sins and even lillith under a contract as well.

Also take your time with this! I know it a lot to take in haha! Drink water okay!!

A/N I hate Adam so this request is very fun :) Also, I just went off the vibes of the song rather than incorporating lyrics for the most part, I hope that is okay. Also I made her and Lucifer friends because I wanted to.

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader)

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: So many. Um, gore, abuse, just generally Y/n being evil and malicious. Adam.

Word Count: 2,432

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

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Y/n wasn't supposed to exist. Then again, souls trapped in Purgatory weren't supposed to challenge God, but she had done that too. It had been a simple bet, based entirely on God's belief that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. He had lost and so, Y/n had become something else.

Not quite good, not quite bad. Neither a sinner nor a winner, a demon or an angel. She was something in the the middle, something worse. She called herself the God of Prospects, she was known as a nephalem.

A traveler between worlds, Y/n found herself the perfect fit when she had first heard of Lucifer's daughter's hotel. The two were friends of a sort and she had been quite bored of late, when he had mentioned it off hand her eyes had lit up with hunger. Lucifer had known that look, the irreversible calamity that always seemed to follow not far behind it.

"Just don't make a deal with Charlie, please." was all he had said on the matter, his voice bleeding.

Y/n had hummed a noncommittal response but took his plea to heart.

The others at the hotel were generally wary of Y/n. Even in her demon form, she cut an intimidating figure. Half a head taller than Charlie, thin muscles tracking the course of her limbs - she radiated power. Her steps were quiet and determined, the crowd never failed to part for her.

Charlie knew nothing of Y/n's truth of course, only that she was a friend of her father's. This was confirmed when Lucifer eventually visited the hotel and the pair greeted one another warmly and so, Charlie trusted her implicitly despite every sign not to. Still, she was wary. She was wary because Alastor gave Y/n a wide birth at all times and Alastor never feared anyone. When Charlie had questioned him on the matter, he always carefully changed the subject.

When Lucifer had gotten Charlie the meeting in Heaven, he had asked Y/n to go with. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie knew why save for the fact that maybe Lucifer wanted to keep an eye on his daughter. He had, after all, had a tone steeped in regret when he had told the pair he would be unable to come with himself and Y/n was his friend. It kind of made sense. Kind of.

It was there Y/n met Adam. He had pulled her aside before the chaos of the trial, making brazen advances towards her. Never having had the pleasure of meeting the first man before, she was amused to no extent by his bravado. He didn't suit Heaven at all, in her opinion, yet another example of the opinion she had proven to God all those years before. He might've been a good man once, but he was no longer. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"So what do you say, sweet cheeks?" Adam had asked, his hands on his hips after having described everything he could 'do to her.'

Y/n had stared at him so long and hard he had almost begun to shake. Only then had she spoken, her voice like sharp gravel on bare feet, hot asphalt on hands in the dead of summer. It tore the world around it, it burned.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Uh, hot demon snatch?"

Y/n had laughed at this, her teeth sharpened into points. Her head thrown back in glee, Adam had watched in confusion. When she had finally calmed her wild and uncalled for, in his opinion, joy, she had met his eyes once again, hers burning lazy fire.

"I am the God of Prospects. I will be your doom."

He hadn't known it then, but she had been right. It was strange. Adam had always liked women with a temper, hence his picks for the exorcists he worked with, but he had never liked being outshined, overpowered. It made him uncomfortable, he stayed away from women like that. Yet, something about Y/n in all her carefree composure, all her spiraling damnation, drew him to her.

"Let's make a bet."

She had held her hand out to him then, her nails sharp enough to draw blood.

"A deal?"

Adam had heard of deals in Hell, what an overlord could do through such a thing. He eyed her in suspicion.

"Did you listen to what I said? No, a bet." Y/n corrected tactfully.

"You're not an overlord, are you?"

"No."

Y/n's grin widened, unsettling him further.

"Then what is it?"

"If you win this war that is bound to happen, I will go with you. If you do not, I will take something from you."

"And how do you know it is going to be a war?"

All pretense was gone, he was nothing but a man in her scorching gaze. A shiver traveled its way down his spine, unbidden.

"I told you." she replied, as if speaking to an ignorant child, "I am the God of Prospects."

Y/n had been suspiciously absent from the battle until its very end. She appeared beside Angel Dust as Lucifer and Charlie stood before Adam, laying beaten and bloody on the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?" Angel asked and Y/n smiled, her arms crossed.

"I told you," and she had indeed told them all, the night before at the bar, "I would have made it unfair."

"Like any of us beleive you're actually that powerful." Angel scoffed and Y/n just shrugged, watching the scene play out before her in anticipation.

This was what she had been waiting for all along. She hadn't realized it until she had met Adam in person but, Y/n knew the cure to her boredom and it was not the hotel. No, the hotel was just part of the gateway, same as Adam. Really, the last time she could recall being genuinely entertained was when she had first placed that bet against God. New challenges to face, new mountains to climb, whisked past her minds eye. Plans formed and reformed, she made matter out of nothing.

"How does mercy taste you little bitch?" Lucifer said as he and Charlie turned their backs on Adam, joining the small group of people who had congregated behind them.

"No..." Adam weakly replied, slowly getting to his feet, "You don't get to end this."

Y/n could see his face now, for the first time, without his mask blocking it. She had been right all along, he had always just been a man. Mythologized, but a man none the less.

"I am fucking Adam!" he yelled, pulling himself from the crater, "I am the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshiping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of Y/n. She stood near the back, her arms crossed. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what had him so out of it when they realized his frantic gaze was being met by none other than Y/n.

As she stepped between Vaggie and Lucifer, she began to change. Large black wings sprouted from her back, a black halo, similar to the one the exorcists wore, appeared above her head. Then there were the thorns, black vines twisting their way around her limbs. She leered over the now trembling Adam.

"Y/n..." Lucifer began, the smile long since having vanished from his face, "what did you do."

"I made a bet, that is all." she placidly replied, not bothering to look at the man.

She licked her lips in hunger, her mouth full of razors. Adam stumbled a step back.

"No!" he yelled, "It's not over! The war is not over! I... I..."

"This is your fate now."

The group watched in horror as Y/n grew taller, her limbs and torso stretching out thin and monstrous. She looked emaciated, she looked like death.

"NO, it's not!"

"I choose your fate now or did you forget about your side of the bargain? I will get what I am owed."

With a flick of her finger, Adam was raised into the air by glowing black, thorny vines. He struggled against the bonds as she turned his back towards her. Even now, he couldn't help but find something compelling in her, something that drew him to her.

"What are you doing? What are yo-"

He cut himself off in a terrible, protracted scream. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was nauseating as Y/n slowly ripped the wings from his back. She let him fall, whimpering and bloodied, to the ground. Turning the wings over before her eyes, she examined them carefully as she shrunk back to her normal size and body shape.

"Beautiful but... I already have a pair." she mused before throwing them to the side.

"What are you?" Vaggie asked, breathless, as Y/n turned back to the group.

Her hands were stained golden in blood as were her teeth. She grinned.

"I am the God of Prospects. I am corrupted by absolute power."

"Jesus, Y/n." Lucifer sighed, a hand to his head, "You're scaring them."

"Good."

"You knew?" Charlie asked her father in shock and he nodded softly.

"But I've never..."

"Seen me like this before." Y/n finished the thought for her friend, "In my true form. It is a lot to digest, I try to be kind."

"You try to be kind?" Husk repeated.

"Oh I like her." Cherri smiled brightly and Y/n tilted her head to the side in thanks.

It was now, as Lute pulled herself from the wreckage and Adam took his last stuttering breaths that she screamed, rushing to her master's side.

"Sir? Sir?!" she asked, flipping him over with her good arm.

Y/n turned to the scene, smiling. If this was the sort of thing her newfound passion would bring her, life was certainly about to become much more enjoyable.

"Stay with me, sir." Lute begged the dying man.

The last thing he did was smile up at her before falling dead. Charlie stepped forward with Vaggie not far behind her, her eyes glowing red with power and matching those of her father as he followed in her steps.

"Adam!" Lute yelled.

"It's over." Charlie announced, and the exorcist looked up.

"Take your little friends and go home." Lucifer added forcefully, "Please."

Lute looked between them for a moment before obeying, calling the retreat. The exorcists rose into the air, disappearing back through the portal. but not before she had grabbed Adam's fallen halo.

Charlie now turned to Y/n, the same fire burning in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Y/n shrugged noncommitally.

"I was bored, you all are interesting."

Charlie took a deep breath.

"What are you?"

"I am the God of Prospects."

"She is a nephalem. Well, sort of." Lucifer corrected and Y/n pouted.

"A nephalem?" Vaggie asked.

"Neither an angel nor a demon."

"How... shouldn't you be in purgatory?" Angel asked, taking a step forward.

"Does she look like she should be in purgatory?" Husk countered.

"I was there for a while."

"Really? What happened?" Cherri asked in excitment.

Y/n turned to her.

"I made a bet with God."

"And she won. Hooray, now, who is up for pancakes?"

After some conversation, it was determined that Y/n would be allowed to continue her stay at the hotel as long as she promised to protect it should the battle return. Y/n knew it would and told everyone as much, she agreed to the terms. Then the subject at hand had turned to lamentation. For the hotel, for their friends - the minute Charlie had brought up Alastor and his supposed death, Y/n had stopped her.

Holding a hand out to the demon princess, Y/n closed her eyes.

"He's injured, but alive." she announced after a moment, "I will go get him."

Before anyone had the chance to ask her how she knew or what she meant, Y/n had taken off into the sky on her wings of night.

The radio tower was in pieces, and Alastor sulked within. He looked up at the sound of her entry, his eyes wide and wild.

"Took a beating there, huh." Y/n mused playfully and Alastor scoffed, "I have a new job for you."

"What." he spat back, "Something else to get me almost killed?"

"Maybe." Y/n shrugged, "Either way, you know you can't refuse."

Vines, the same ones that had held Adam, appeared on Alastor, wrapping their way around him, bringing him to his knees. He grunted softly as they hit the ground. He knew she was right. He had been vain and a fool, he had been cocky. He had made a bet, and now had to lay in the grave she dug for him.

"What is that job?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're going to help me get a meeting with God."

Y/n hopped up onto a mostly intact table, taking a seat upon it. Alastor watched her, speechless.

"Yeah, he's sorta been, you know, avoiding my calls? Between you and me, I think he's pissy he lost our bet."

"Why do you want a meeting with him? Don't you already have everything?"

"Almost everything. I want to play a game."

"With God."

"With God."

"What for?"

Y/n hummed in thought, kicking her legs slightly.

"I want to be corrupted absolutely."

Alastor could read between the lines, he had known her long enough. His eyes widened with surprise. Y/n wanted power, to replace the man upstairs. She wanted to be God, not just a nephalem. She was always crossing boundaries, doing things she wasn't supposed to do, being things she wasn't supposed to be. Who was to say she couldn't do this too? Still, the fear and uncertainty ate away at him. He had no choice but to bend to her will but that didn't mean he had to have complete faith.

Y/n stood again in response to Alastor's doubtful look, her vines dragging him to his feet. She stared him dead in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Remember, foolish man, if not for my kindness you too would be gone. Don't try anything, just keep holding up that lovely facade of yours at the Hotel. I will alert you to when your skills are needed."

[amethystarachnid]

A COWBOY'S LOVE - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, a lot of angst and some fluff and a tiny bit of spicy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Read part 2 here!

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ Summary: Y/N works in her family saloon, that's where she met Tony Stark, the cowboy with a terrible reputation. She knows she shouldn't be falling in love with him, her parents would never approve, but she does. One day her parents tell her that they found her an husband: Mr. Davis, a rich old man that could be her grandpa. Will Y/N choose her duty as a good daughter over her love for Tony? Or will she put on a fight to stay with the man she loves?

ᯓ★ TW(s): arranged marriage (not with Tony) , reader gives Tony her virginity so it'll be a little spicy, the arranged marriage is with a much older man

ᯓ★ AU: Cowboy, so it's set in the wild west so like 1800s

ᯓ★ Request: Pleaaaaaase, Cowboy AU for Tony? 🤩 (female reader) (@heygoodgirly )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The heat outside clings to the dusty streets of the small frontier town, but inside your family’s saloon, the air is thick with laughter, conversation, and the smell of whiskey. You stand behind the bar, wiping down glasses with a practiced hand, keeping an eye on the usual crowd. Cowboys, drifters, gamblers—your usual clientele. You’ve seen it all, the rowdy fights, the broken hearts, the deals sealed with a clink of glasses and a whispered promise.

But then he walks in.

Tony Stark.

A cowboy with swagger and a reputation that stretches further than the dusty roads that lead to this small town. You can hear the spurs of his boots jingle with every confident step. He tips his hat back, revealing tousled dark hair and a smirk that seems permanently etched into his face. His eyes are sharp, calculating, like he knows exactly what everyone is thinking the moment he steps in. You’ve heard whispers of his name before—how could you not? He's known for inventing strange contraptions, ones that seem to belong in the future, not out here in the wild.

But it's not just the gadgets. It’s his charm that makes heads turn. And you’re no exception, though you’d never admit it.

He saunters over to the bar, leaning against the counter like he owns the place, his dark leather duster sweeping the floor behind him.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite saloon,” he drawls, eyes locked on you with that teasing glint that always makes your pulse quicken. “And my favorite bartender.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “You say that to every woman who serves you a drink.”

Tony chuckles, low and warm. “Can’t help it if I’ve got a type.”

You pour him a shot of whiskey, sliding it across the bar, your fingers brushing his for a fleeting moment. The roughness of his calloused hand sends a shiver up your spine. He catches it, of course, because nothing gets by Tony Stark.

“Busy night?” he asks, taking the shot in one smooth motion, setting the glass down with a satisfying clink.

“As busy as it ever is in this little dustbowl.” You lean against the counter, wiping your hands on your apron. “You planning to cause any trouble tonight?”

He grins, all teeth and mischief. “Depends on what kind of trouble you’re talkin’ about, darlin’.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You’ve seen men try to get under your skin before, but Tony? He’s different. Too quick-witted for his own good. Too damn charming.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t involve breaking any more chairs,” you warn, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not fixing another one ‘cause of you.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” he protests, though there’s amusement in his eyes. “The fight started before I even finished my drink. Besides, I was just defending your honor.”

You laugh at that. “Defending my honor? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Tony leans in a little closer, his voice dropping low, so only you can hear. “What can I say? A woman like you deserves a knight in shining... well, in my case, dusty armor.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but you keep your expression neutral. He’s always playing this game, flirting and teasing, but you’ve never let it go beyond that. At least, not yet.

“You ever get tired of trying to charm your way into trouble?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Tony chuckles, his fingers drumming lightly on the bar. “Trouble just finds me, sweetheart. I don’t have to go lookin’ for it.” He leans back, glancing over his shoulder as a group of men at one of the tables starts to get a little too loud. His posture shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing.

You follow his gaze and recognize the men—gamblers who’ve had a little too much to drink. You’re about to go over and calm things down when Tony stands, straightening up with a lazy kind of grace.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tipping his hat. “I’ll handle it.”

Before you can protest, he’s already crossed the room. Tony Stark might be many things—cocky, reckless, far too handsome for his own good—but he’s also got a way of diffusing a situation without ever pulling his gun. You watch as he approaches the group, his voice smooth and low, disarming the tension with a few quick words. Within moments, the gamblers are laughing again, the fight forgotten.

He returns to the bar, flashing you a grin as if to say I told you so.

“See?” he says, settling back into his seat. “No chairs broken.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. “You’re something else, Tony Stark.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping again, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes but don’t move away. There’s something magnetic about him, something that makes it hard to keep your distance. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing worth his time in this dusty, chaotic world.

“Tell me something,” he says after a moment, his tone softer, more serious. “Why are you still here? You could be anywhere. You don’t strike me as someone who’d settle for a small-town life.”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. It’s not like Tony to ask anything so personal.

“This is my family’s place,” you say slowly, glancing around the saloon. “I grew up here. It’s... home.”

Tony nods, but there’s something in his eyes, something that tells you he’s not entirely convinced. “And you’re happy here? Dealing with rowdy cowboys, cleaning up after drunken fights?”

You shrug. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s mine.”

He watches you for a long moment, his gaze intense in a way that makes your heart beat just a little faster. “You deserve more than this, you know.”

There’s something in his voice, something raw and real that you’re not used to hearing from him. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself wonder what it would be like—to leave with him. To walk away from this town and its dusty streets.

But then the door to the saloon swings open, and the moment is broken. Another customer, another distraction. You sigh and step back, putting a little distance between you and Tony.

Tony nods, but you can tell he’s not done with this conversation. Not yet. “I’ll be around,” he says, standing up and adjusting his hat. “Don’t go disappearing on me now, darlin’.”

As he walks away, you watch him go, feeling that familiar tug in your chest. Tony Stark might be trouble, but sometimes, trouble is exactly what you need.

And maybe you’ll let yourself fall into it.

The days pass like the slow turn of a wagon wheel, each one blending into the next as you and Tony settle into your usual rhythm. He shows up at the saloon nearly every evening, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, ready with some new quip or story to share. You pretend to be annoyed, rolling your eyes and giving as good as you get, but deep down, you’re starting to look forward to his visits more than you should.

It’s dangerous, letting yourself feel this way. You know that.

Tony Stark isn’t the kind of man who sticks around. He’s restless, always talking about the next adventure, the next town, the next invention. And you? You’re the one who stays. You’ve never known anything else.

Still, when he leans against the bar, hat tipped back, teasing smile in place, it’s hard not to feel a little flutter in your chest. You’ve always been careful with men like him, but with Tony, the line between banter and something more has been getting thinner with each passing night.

Tonight, the saloon is quieter than usual. A few regulars play poker at the corner table, and a group of ranch hands talk in low voices at the other end of the bar. The air outside hums with the approaching dusk, the warm glow of lanterns flickering through the saloon's windows.

Tony strolls in, dusting off his hat as if he’s been out riding all day. He gives you that familiar look—the one that makes it hard to keep a straight face.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me, darlin’,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement.

You snort, pouring him his usual drink. “Miss you? I get enough of you bothering me every night.”

Tony winks, sliding onto the barstool closest to you. “Admit it. Your nights would be pretty dull without me around.”

You lean on the counter, giving him a mock serious look. “I think I’d survive.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Sure, sure. But let’s be honest, you’d miss my charming wit. And this face.”

“You mean the face that gets you into trouble at least twice a week?” you tease, crossing your arms.

Tony tilts his head, flashing you that grin that always seems to disarm you. “Trouble follows me ‘cause life’s too damn boring without it.”

You shake your head, but before you can fire back another retort, the door to the saloon swings open with a loud creak.You glance over, your breath catching in your throat when you see your parents walk in.

Your mother has that tight-lipped expression she wears when something serious is on her mind, and your father’s gaze is fixed on you, the weight of it making your stomach twist. They rarely come into the saloon during working hours—it’s more your domain than theirs. So their presence now? That can only mean one thing.

“Y/N,” your father says, nodding toward the back room. “We need to talk.”

Tony’s gaze flicks between you and your parents, his brow furrowing slightly. “Everything alright?”

You force a smile, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands suddenly feel clammy. “Yeah, fine. Just… family stuff. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for Tony’s response, you follow your parents to the back of the saloon, your heart hammering in your chest. You already know what this is about. They’ve been dropping hints for weeks now, and the dread that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind is finally coming to fruition.

Inside the small room, your mother gives you a soft smile, one that’s supposed to be comforting but only makes you feel trapped.

“Y/N,” your father begins, his tone gentle but firm. “We’ve made arrangements. You’re going to marry Mr. Davis.”

The name hangs in the air like a noose. Mr. Davis—a wealthy rancher, old enough to be your grandfather. He’s been visiting your family more often lately, always watching you with that strange, calculating look. You know he’s well-respected, that the marriage will secure your family’s future, but every part of you wants to scream in protest.

Instead, you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I understand.”

Your mother places a hand on your shoulder, her smile widening in approval. “You’ve always been such a good daughter. This is for the best, Y/N. Mr. Davis can provide for you in ways we never could.”

You nod again, the weight of their expectations heavy on your chest. You don’t argue. You don’t cry. You just… accept it. Because that’s what a good daughter does.

When the conversation is over, you return to the bar, your legs feeling like lead. Tony’s still there, watching you with that curious, concerned expression.

“What was that about?” he asks, his voice low, though there’s a hint of playfulness in it, like he’s expecting you to brush it off with a joke like you always do.

You want to. You want to smile and tell him everything’s fine. But the words won’t come.

Instead, you grab a bottle of whiskey and pour yourself a drink, downing it in one go. Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing that something’s wrong.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks again, softer this time.

You force a smile, but it feels hollow. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… family business.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans on the bar, his fingers tapping idly against his glass. The silence between you is heavier than usual, the easy banter replaced by something more tense, more uncertain.

You can’t bring yourself to tell him. Not yet. Not when you don’t even know how to make sense of it yourself.

Instead, you go through the motions—serving drinks, wiping down the bar, laughing at his jokes even when your heart isn’t in it. But every time his eyes linger on you, a part of you aches. Because you know, deep down, that whatever this thing is between you and Tony, it can’t last.

You’re going to marry Mr. Davis. You’re going to be someone else’s wife. And Tony… Tony is going to move on, just like he always does.

But for tonight, you pretend. You pretend that everything’s fine, that nothing’s changed, even though you can feel the future closing in on you like a noose.

Tony’s laughter echoes in the saloon, but it’s a bittersweet sound now. Because no matter how much you wish it were different, some things can’t be undone.

The days blur together, each one bringing you closer to the wedding. Closer to the life you never asked for, to a future that feels more like a cage with every passing minute. Mr. Davis has been in and out of the saloon, his presence looming like a shadow. Every time he tips his hat to you, you smile and nod like the good daughter your parents expect you to be.

But inside, the walls are closing in.

Tony, of course, has no idea. You’ve managed to keep the truth from him, though it’s getting harder with each passing day. His visits to the saloon have become the only part of your life that feels normal anymore, the only time you can pretend that things haven’t changed. You can still joke, laugh, and trade barbs like nothing is wrong.

But you can’t escape the dread that knots your stomach every time he walks in.

Tonight, the saloon is almost empty. The regulars have trickled out early, leaving just you and Tony in the dimly lit room. The lanterns flicker, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. It’s quiet, save for the soft creak of a chair and the occasional clink of glasses as you absentmindedly clean up behind the bar.

Tony leans back in his usual spot, hat tipped low, his boots resting on the rung of the stool. He’s been talking for the past hour, spinning some wild tale about a cattle drive gone wrong, but you’ve barely been listening. Your thoughts are too tangled, your heart too heavy.

“You’re awful quiet tonight,” Tony remarks, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just tired, I guess.”

Tony watches you, his expression shifting from playful to serious in a heartbeat. He’s always been too perceptive for his own good, and tonight is no exception. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar, his dark eyes searching yours.

“You’ve been ‘tired’ for a while now, sweetheart. Somethin’ tells me there’s more to it than that.”

You swallow hard, avoiding his gaze as you busy yourself with cleaning an already spotless glass. “It’s nothing. Just… family stuff.”

He doesn’t buy it, not for a second. He reaches out, gently pulling the glass from your hand and setting it down on the bar. His fingers brush against yours for just a moment, but it’s enough to send a jolt of warmth through you. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he says, his voice low, earnest. “What’s goin’ on?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say them. How do you tell Tony Stark—the one man who’s made you feel alive in this dusty town—that you’re about to marry someone else? Someone old, someone who doesn’t know you, doesn’t see you the way Tony does?

You look away, blinking back the burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m getting married, Tony,” you finally whisper, the words coming out so softly you’re not sure he even hears them.

But he does.

The silence that follows is deafening. Tony stiffens, his hand still resting on the bar, fingers curling slightly as if he’s trying to hold on to something. When he speaks again, his voice is tight, controlled.

“Married?” he repeats, like the word is foreign to him.

You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

“To who?” he asks, though there’s a strange edge to his voice now. “Because it sure as hell ain’t anyone I’ve seen around here.”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Mr. Davis.”

Tony’s expression shifts from confusion to disbelief, then something darker. He pushes back from the bar, standing up so abruptly his chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

“Mr. Davis?” He says the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “That old bastard?”

You wince at the venom in his voice, but you can’t blame him. You feel the same way.

“It’s arranged,” you say quickly, trying to explain. “My parents—he’s… it’s for the family. I didn’t really have a choice.”

Tony laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You didn’t have a choice? Y/N, you always have a choice.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you again. “Not this time. It’s two weeks away.”

Two weeks. Just saying it out loud feels like a death sentence.

Tony stares at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite place. Anger, frustration… maybe even hurt. But then, without warning, he steps closer, his voice lowering to a rough whisper.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he says, his eyes burning into yours. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his proximity making it hard to breathe. You open your mouth, but no words come out. Because it isn’t what you want. It’s the last thing you want. But saying that? Admitting it out loud?

You’re not sure you can.

Tony’s hand moves, hesitating for a moment before his fingers brush against your cheek, gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll break if he touches you any harder. His thumb grazes your skin, and you shiver under his touch.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost pleading now. “You don’t have to do this.”

Your breath hitches as his words hang in the air between you. And then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s been building for far too long.

For a moment, the world disappears. The saloon, the town, the marriage, all of it fades away as Tony’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His lips are warm and firm, tasting of whiskey and something distinctly him. The kiss is slow, sweet at first, but it quickly deepens, becoming something more urgent, more desperate, like he’s trying to pour all the unspoken words into it.

You melt into him, your hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It’s everything you’ve wanted for so long—too long.

But then, reality crashes down on you.

You pull away, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Tony’s eyes search yours, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration as he reaches for you again.

But you step back, shaking your head. “Tony… we can’t.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean, we can’t? That kiss sure as hell didn’t feel like we can’t.”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. “I’m getting married in two weeks.”

Tony’s eyes narrow, his frustration turning to something sharper. “To a man you don’t love,” he growls. “Don’t tell me that’s what you want.”

You close your eyes, fighting the ache in your chest. “It’s what I have to do.”

He stares at you, the tension thick between you both, the silence heavy with everything unsaid. Finally, he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re really gonna marry that old man and throw this away?” he asks, his voice low, rough with emotion.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you look away, unable to face the pain in his gaze. “It’s not that simple, Tony.”

He exhales sharply, turning away, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, neither of you speak, the air thick with tension. You can still feel the heat of his kiss on your lips, still feel the weight of his hands on your skin. But it doesn’t change anything. Not really.

“I should go,” Tony finally says, his voice tight.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You watch him turn toward the door, the ache in your chest growing with every step he takes away from you.

But as he reaches the threshold, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder one last time.

“You’re making a mistake, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

And then, he’s gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the empty saloon with nothing but the weight of your choice pressing down on you.

The wedding day looms closer, suffocating you with every tick of the clock. Mr. Davis has already started making plans—what he expects of you, how you’ll live together on his ranch. Your parents are thrilled, talking about your future like it’s some grand thing, a reward for all their hard work. But to you, it feels like chains being forged, one link at a time.

And then there’s Tony.

You’ve avoided him since that kiss, the memory of his lips on yours haunting you. His words echo in your head, over and over again—You’re making a mistake, Y/N. It should be easy to forget, to bury your feelings like you’ve been taught to do your whole life. But when you lie in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, all you can think about is Tony. The way he looks at you like you’re something more than just a dutiful daughter. The way he touches you like you’re precious, like you matter.

It doesn’t help that every day you grow more certain of one terrifying truth: you love him. You’ve fallen in love with Tony Stark, the wild, stubborn cowboy who showed you a world beyond the one your parents have trapped you in. And now, one week away from being shackled to a man you barely know, you feel like you’re suffocating.

One evening, after the saloon has closed and the town has fallen into its usual sleepy quiet, you find yourself standing on the edge of a decision. The weight of your future is pressing down on you, and you know you can’t keep living in this limbo.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your shawl and slip out into the night, your feet carrying you down the familiar dirt road toward Tony’s ranch. The cool evening air bites at your skin, but you hardly notice. Your heart hammers in your chest, your mind racing as you rehearse what you’re going to say—if you can even find the words once you see him.

The Stark ranch comes into view, the faint glow of light spilling from the windows of his cabin. His horse is tied up nearby, the quiet snuffle of the animal the only sound besides the soft rustle of the wind. You hesitate for a moment, your stomach twisting with nerves, but then you force yourself to take a deep breath and walk up to the door.

Before you can knock, the door creaks open, and there he is—Tony, standing in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he sees you.

“Y/N?” he asks, stepping outside. “What are you doin’ here? It’s late.”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows something’s wrong. He always knows.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze. “I had to see you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tony’s brow furrows, and he glances behind you, as if expecting someone else to be there. When he sees that you’re alone, he steps closer, his hands resting gently on your arms. “What’s goin’ on? You’re shakin’.”

You hadn’t even realized it until now, but he’s right. Your whole body is trembling, the weight of your emotions finally crashing down on you. You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and for the first time, you let the truth slip past your lips.

“I love you, Tony.”

The words come out in a rush, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning. Tony’s eyes widen in shock, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you keep going, unable to hold it all in any longer.

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice breaking. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I—I’m still going to marry Mr. Davis. I have to. My parents—they won’t understand. They’ll never let me go against their plans, and I’m—" You choke on the words, struggling to hold back the tears. "I’m scared. I don’t know how to stand up to them.”

Tony’s face softens, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I told you—you have a choice.”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just… leave everything behind. But there’s one thing I can choose.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you say the words you never thought you’d be brave enough to speak. “I don’t want him to be my first. I don’t want an old man to take that from me, Tony. I want it to be you.”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. Tony stares at you, his expression unreadable, his breath coming in slow, steady exhales. Then, with a low sigh, he steps back, shaking his head slightly.

“Y/N…” His voice is quiet, conflicted. “You don’t have to do this. Not for me.”

You take a shaky breath, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me.” Your voice trembles, but your resolve is firm. “I love you, Tony. And I want my first time to be with someone I love. Someone who cares about me.”

For a long moment, Tony just looks at you, his gaze searching yours. Then, something in his expression softens, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you gently against him. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his forehead resting against yours.

You nod, your heart racing. “I’m sure.”

Tony’s lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft, tender, and full of the unspoken words that have been hanging between you for too long. He’s gentle, his hands sliding up to cup your face, cradling you like you’re something fragile, something precious. You melt into him, your fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing the warmth of him against you.

Without breaking the kiss, Tony pulls you inside the cabin, the door closing softly behind you. The fire in the hearth casts a warm glow over the room, the shadows dancing across the walls as he leads you to the bed, his movements slow, careful, like he’s giving you every chance to change your mind.

But you don’t.

When you reach the bed, he pauses, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you, his gaze full of something deeper than just desire—something that makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“You’re sure?” he asks again, his voice rough, filled with emotion.

You nod, smiling softly as you reach up to cup his cheek. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, Tony kisses you again, this time deeper, more urgent, like he’s been holding back for too long. His hands move slowly, carefully untying the strings of your dress, letting it slip off your shoulders and pool at your feet. You shiver, not from the cold but from the intensity of his gaze as he looks at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before pulling you close again.

You pull at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours, and he helps you, shrugging out of it before lifting you gently onto the bed. His touch is soft, reverent, as he leans over you, pressing kisses to your neck, your collarbone, trailing lower with each one. Every kiss sends a thrill through you, your heart racing as you cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

When he finally joins you on the bed, his body pressing against yours, you feel a sense of peace wash over you—a feeling that this is right, that this moment belongs to you, not to Mr. Davis or your parents or anyone else.

It’s slow, tender, every movement filled with care and love. Tony takes his time, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure this is exactly what you want. And when the moment finally comes, when you join together in a way that’s both beautiful and overwhelming, it’s everything you’d hoped it would be.

You hold onto him, your breath hitching as your bodies move together, and in that moment, all the worries and fears melt away. There’s only him—only Tony, his soft murmurs of affection, his gentle touch, his love.

When it’s over, you lie together in the quiet of the cabin, your head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close. The fire crackles softly in the background, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel… free. Like you’ve finally chosen something for yourself, something real.

Tony presses a soft kiss to your hair, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You smile against his chest, your heart swelling with a mix of happiness and sadness. “I love you too, Tony.”

But as you lie there in the warmth of his embrace, the reality of your situation begins to creep back in. The wedding is still one week away, and while tonight has been perfect, you know that come morning, the weight of your obligations will return.

For now, though, you hold onto him, letting yourself enjoy the moment, the feeling of being with the man you love.

Because no matter what happens next, this night is yours.

The first light of dawn filters through the thin curtains of Tony’s cabin, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. You lie curled against him, your head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. His arm is wrapped around you, holding you close, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

You wish you could stay like this forever—wrapped in his warmth, cocooned in the safety of his arms. But reality looms like a shadow, reminding you of what’s coming. The wedding. The promise to your parents. The life that’s been planned for you since before you even knew how to dream of something different.

Tony stirs beside you, shifting slightly as he wakes. His hand strokes your back gently, his fingers tracing soft circles against your skin. You close your eyes, savoring the feeling for just a moment longer, knowing it might be the last time you get to feel this way.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” Tony’s voice breaks the quiet, low and rough from sleep. His words hang in the air, a soft plea wrapped in the warmth of the morning light. “It’s not too late, Y/N.”

You sigh, the ache in your chest growing with each passing second. You knew this conversation was coming. You could feel it simmering between you last night, even as you lay tangled together in the heat of your love.

“I wish it were that simple,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you press your face closer to him. “But it’s not. The wedding is next Saturday, Tony. In the church. Everyone in town is expecting it. My parents… they’re counting on me.”

Tony shifts, pulling back slightly so he can look down at you, his brow furrowed with frustration and something deeper—something like hurt. His thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You don’t have to live for them, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t owe them your whole damn life. Not if it means giving up what you want—giving up us.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you look into his eyes, seeing the pain there, the desperation. You want to tell him he’s right. That you’ll run away with him, leave this town, this life behind. But the weight of your family’s expectations presses down on you like a stone, heavy and unyielding.

“It’s too late, Tony,” you whisper, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve been raised to believe in. My parents… they’ve worked so hard for this. For me. I have to marry Mr. Davis.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with frustration, but he doesn’t argue. He just holds you tighter, his breath warm against your skin as the silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words.

Eventually, you both rise, the morning light spilling across the room as you dress in the quiet. There’s a heaviness in the air now, a finality that neither of you want to acknowledge but can’t escape. Tony watches you, his gaze lingering on you like he’s trying to memorize every detail, every moment, as though this is the last time he’ll see you.

And maybe it is.

When you’re dressed, you stand by the door, your hand resting on the doorknob as you turn to look at him one last time. He’s standing in the middle of the room, his shirt half-buttoned, his hair tousled, his eyes dark and unreadable as he watches you.

“You’re really going to marry him?” Tony’s voice is quiet, almost broken.

You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “I have to.”

Tony exhales sharply, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re gonna throw away everything we could’ve had?”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back, forcing yourself to stay strong. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I wish things could be different.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, the pain in his eyes so raw it cuts through you like a knife.

You turn the doorknob and step outside into the early morning light, the cool air hitting your skin as you walk away from the cabin, away from the man you love. You don’t look back, because you know if you do, you won’t be able to leave.

And leaving is the only thing you can do.

When you return home, the sun has fully risen, casting the town in its usual bustle. You slip through the back door of your house, hoping to avoid your parents. But the moment you step inside, you’re greeted by the sound of their voices—raised, panicked.

“There you are!” your mother’s voice startles you as she rushes into the room, her face a mixture of worry and something else, something harder. “Where have you been all night?”

Your father stands behind her, his arms crossed, his expression grim. They both look at you, their eyes searching, waiting for an explanation.

“I—” you stammer, not knowing what to say. You can’t tell them the truth. You can’t tell them about Tony, about last night.

But then you realize something. The way your mother’s eyes flicker down to your clothes, her lips pressing into a thin line. The way your father’s brow furrows in disapproval. They’re not worried about where you’ve been.

They’re worried about what you’ve done.

“You were out all night,” your father says, his voice cold, accusatory. “Do you know what people will say? What Mr. Davis will think if he finds out?”

Your heart sinks, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut. They don’t care where you were. They don’t care about you. They care about the deal. About the marriage.

About the money.

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, your voice shaking. “I just… needed some air.”

Your mother steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Air? All night?” She grabs your wrist, her grip tight, almost painful. “Don’t lie to us, Y/N. We raised you better than that.”

You pull your arm free, feeling a swell of anger rising in your chest. “You raised me to do what you want. To be obedient. To be… sold off to the highest bidder.”

The words spill out before you can stop them, and the look on your parents’ faces is enough to break your heart all over again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your father snaps, his face reddening. “You’re marrying Mr. Davis because it’s what’s best for this family. It’s a good match. He’s a respectable man with money. You’ll live comfortably.”

Comfortably. The word makes you sick.

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You don’t care about me at all, do you? You don’t care that I’m miserable, that I don’t love him. You just want the money. You just want to be rid of me.”

Your mother’s face hardens, and she steps back, her arms folding across her chest. “You’re a woman, Y/N. You don’t get to choose. You do what’s best for the family.”

The weight of her words crashes down on you, and for the first time, you see it all clearly. To them, you’re not a daughter. You’re a bargaining chip. Something to be exchanged for status, for comfort, for wealth.

Tears spill down your cheeks, and you don’t bother wiping them away. “I’m nothing to you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’ve given up everything for you, for this family. And you don’t even see me.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and flee up the stairs, slamming the door to your room behind you. You collapse onto the bed, sobbing into the pillow, the weight of your heartbreak pressing down on you with every breath.

You sacrificed your love. You gave up Tony—the only man who has ever truly seen you—for them. For their approval, their pride.

And they don’t even care.

As the tears flow, you clutch the pillow tighter, your body shaking with sobs, feeling like you’ve lost everything.

Because in a way, you have.

The bells of the small town church ring out, echoing through the streets as the townsfolk gather inside. It’s a bright, beautiful day—perfect for a wedding. But as you stand in the back room, staring at your reflection in the mirror, you feel anything but beautiful.

Your wedding dress, a gift from your mother, feels heavy on your body, suffocating you in its lace and satin. The delicate veil drapes over your face, hiding the tears that have been falling for what feels like hours now. Your heart is in shambles, your mind replaying every moment from that night at Tony’s ranch—his hands, his voice, his warmth. You’d given yourself to him, knowing you would never belong to him in the end. And now, here you are, about to marry a man you can hardly bear to look at.

Mr. Davis is already at the altar, waiting for you with that smug, self-satisfied grin. The old man’s wealth, his power, and the promise of a “secure future” are the only reasons this marriage is happening. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even know you. You’re just another possession to him, another thing he can buy. Your stomach churns at the thought, bile rising in your throat.

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice cuts through your thoughts, sharp and commanding. “Stop fidgeting. You look perfect. Everyone is waiting.”

You nod mechanically, trying to hold back the tears as you glance at your father. He stands by the door, ready to walk you down the aisle, his expression one of pride. Pride for what? Selling his daughter to the highest bidder? The thought makes your heart ache, but you push it aside. You’ve done everything they’ve ever asked of you. Now, you’ll give them this too.

With a deep breath, you plaster a smile onto your face, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. The kind of smile that hides the storm inside you.

Your father offers you his arm, and together, you step out of the back room and into the church, where everyone turns to watch you walk down the aisle. You keep the smile on your face, even as your eyes sting with unshed tears. You can’t look at Mr. Davis. You focus on the path ahead, on the steps that lead to a future you don’t want.

Each step feels heavier than the last, like you’re marching toward your own execution. The faces of the townsfolk blur together as you pass them, whispering among themselves, commenting on how beautiful you look, how lucky Mr. Davis is.

Lucky. The word burns in your throat. He’s the lucky one, while you’re the one being sacrificed.

As you reach the altar, Mr. Davis takes your hand, his touch cold and unfeeling. His smile is smug, as though he knows he’s won. You force yourself to smile back, even though your entire body screams to run.

The priest begins speaking, his voice a distant murmur in your ears as you stand there, your hand trembling in Mr. Davis’s grasp. You can barely hear what he’s saying, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“And if anyone has any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony,” the priest intones, “speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing, but the church is silent. No one will say anything. No one ever does.

Until suddenly, the heavy church doors burst open.

The room gasps collectively, heads turning in unison, and you whip your head around, your breath catching in your throat.

Tony.

He’s standing in the doorway, out of breath, his chest heaving as though he’s just run the whole way here. His clothes are rumpled, dust clinging to his boots and jacket, but his eyes—those familiar, dark, intense eyes—are locked on you. There’s a fire in them, the same fire you’ve seen every time he’s looked at you, and in that moment, you can’t breathe.

“I oppose,” Tony’s voice rings out, cutting through the stunned silence of the church.

A murmur ripples through the crowd. You hear the shocked whispers, the gasps of disbelief. Everyone in town knows Tony Stark—the wild, reckless cowboy with a bad reputation, the man who never settled down, who was always chasing trouble. He’s the last person anyone would expect to stand up in a church and object to a wedding.

But there he is.

And he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“I want to marry her,” Tony says, his voice strong, determined. “I love her. And I think she deserves a damn sight better than this.”

Your heart skips a beat, the smile you’ve been forcing on your face faltering, replaced by something real—something you can’t hold back. A spark of hope flickers inside you, one you thought had been extinguished.

Mr. Davis lets out a low, indignant growl beside you. “This is absurd! You have no right—”

“I have every right,” Tony interrupts, stepping forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because she deserves a choice. And I’m askin’ her to give me a chance.”

The room is a storm of murmurs, people shaking their heads, some in shock, some in disapproval. Your parents are frozen, your mother’s face pale with rage, your father’s lips pressed into a tight line.

But none of that matters.

Not when Tony’s standing there, looking at you with hope in his eyes, his heart on his sleeve.

“Y/N,” Tony calls softly, his voice cutting through the chaos. “You don’t have to go through with this. Not for them. Not for anyone. Come with me.”

Your hands tremble, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of the moment crashes down on you. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your decision. You look over at Mr. Davis, his face red with fury, his hand tightening on your wrist.

You pull away from him, shaking your head slowly, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You turn toward your parents, who are glaring at you with a mixture of shock and anger, but for the first time in your life, their opinions don’t matter. They don’t get to decide your future anymore.

Tony’s standing at the entrance, his hand outstretched, waiting for you.

Your lips curve into a real, genuine smile, the weight lifting off your chest as you step forward, toward him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but your voice is steady, filled with a new kind of strength. “I can’t do this.”

Before anyone can stop you, you lift your skirts and run down the aisle, your heart soaring with every step. The crowd gasps as you pass, but you don’t care. All you can see is Tony, waiting for you, his eyes shining with love and relief.

When you reach him, he pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace, his laughter warm against your skin.

“I knew you’d come,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You laugh through your tears, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I love you, Tony.”

Without another word, the two of you turn and dash out of the church, leaving behind the stunned whispers, the shocked gasps, the world you were so desperate to escape. You run toward freedom, toward the future you’ve chosen, with Tony by your side.

As you burst through the church doors and into the sunlight, the weight that’s been crushing you for so long finally lifts, and for the first time in your life, you feel truly free.

Tony helps you up onto his horse, and you take one last glance at the church behind you, at the life you’ve left behind. Your parents stand in the doorway, their faces a mixture of disbelief and fury, but you turn away from them, focusing on what lies ahead.

With a grin, Tony swings up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nudges the horse into motion. Together, you ride off into the horizon, the wind whipping through your hair, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you leave everything else behind.

You’ve made your choice. You’ve chosen love. And as you look over your shoulder at Tony, his smile wide and bright, you know you’ve chosen right.

I was (I am) crying while writing this I swear, maybe a part 2 where Tony and y/n are happily together?

If I made you cry don't forget to leave a like, a reblog and even a follow if you want to read more! <3

[lvrsparadise]

matt doing ur makeup✊

'PRETTY GIRL' - M.S

synopsis - "you're so pretty. my pretty girl."

warnings! - kissing, fluff, i think one or two curse words, relatively short :)

A/N - i love matt sm it's not even funny atp. i was listening to melting by kali uchis when i started this, it worked so fkn well. anyways, i'm obsessed with my new theme 🤩

"Stop moving!" Matt giggles out as he chases my eye with the makeup brush, which is covered in glitter.

"No! That is so much fucking glitter Matt!" I try to wiggle out of his grip, but it's no use as he grabs the back of my head, effectively making me stop moving, the brush coming in contact with my eyelid.

I close my eyes to keep any glitter from getting in my eyes.

"See? There, looks beautiful!" He does my other eye before I hear the brush being set down on my vanity.

I open my eyes and look at the light purple glitter on my eyelids.

"You know, this is actually pretty good." I check myself out in the mirror a bit, watching the glitter shine in the dim light of my room.

"I told you." He's grinning like a madman.

"You almost perfectly replicated my normal makeup." I smile at him through the mirror.

"Now, last but not least, lipstick!" He shifts through my lipsticks and stuff before pulling out a dark red lipstick I wore on our 2 year anniversary.

"I remember this one! I really liked it." He turns back to me, grabbing the side of my face, tilting my head up.

I part my lips and just inspect his face as he applies the lipstick. The pure concentration.

"Annnnd, all done!" He recaps the lipstick, putting it away before standing behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I check myself out in the mirror again, inspecting the finished look. It really is an almost uncanny look of my normal makeup. Just with a bit of Matt-ness.

"It's perfect." I look into his eyes through the mirror and grin.

"I know."

I stand up from the stool and hug Matt, my arms going around his neck and his around my waist.

"Gosh, you're just so damn pretty."

I giggle and pull my head back, kissing him, all over his face, leaving behind lipstick marks before kissing his lips.

"You look pretty too." I grin back at him and kiss him one more time.

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his hands moving to my hips, gripping them tightly as he does so.

"You're so pretty. My pretty girl." I feel him smile against my lips and I smile too.

After we pull back from the hug, he pulls his phone out, opening tiktok.

"What're you doing?" I furrow my brows and watch as he sits on my bed, finding an audio before pressing record, a goofy smile on his face as he lip-syncs the lyrics.

"Showing off my girlfriends artwork." He stands up from my bed, kissing me again, earning a laugh from me.

"Hang on." I pull out my own phone, doing the same he did, recording a video of his artwork.

"I did do a good job on your makeup didn't I?" He places his hands on his hips, that same grin on his face.

"I would've wiped it off already of you didn't." I giggle and kiss his cheek again.

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

Tags ! ✮

@dwntwn-strnlo ✮ @ssturniolo ✮ @strniolo ✮ @20nugs ✮ @prettysturniolo ✮ @mxqdii ✮ @thetriplets3 ✮ @slaysturniolo ✮ @gwenlore ✮ @opheliaofficial07 ✮ @gabbylovesreading ✮

If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ✮

I love you all !

And I hope you all have a good day and / or night ✮

[the-traveling-poet]

OH MY GOSH! That modern!au was so beautiful???😭😭 I’m not a sucker for moderns au cause I like to keep things as canon as possible but saying that I loved this would be an understatement. 🤩 Please write a pt 2?? 💕

Phone Call

After successfully arriving at the Cast Meet and Greet event a couple hours away from your quaint apartment, you were able to meet your idol at long last. Though you had been awkward in greeting the man of your dreams, you planned to make up for ‘lost time’. With his phone number tucked securely in your phone’s contact list, you anxiously awaited the right moment to send that first text.

Pairings: Actor!Levi x Fan!Reader

Warnings: modern!AU, language, fluff

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

A/N: thanknyou so much Anon, and also AGREED. I’m not one for modern!AU aot fics, but the request kinda struck me and I thought ‘why not?’ And I’m content with how it turned out?? So I’m happy to do a follow up :3 I’m so sorry it took me forever! Hope you enjoy pt. 2!

Part 1 | Part 3

That hour had passed you by surprisingly quickly, with how often you’d space out staring over the crowd of fans to fantasize your interaction with Levi Ackerman all over once more in your hazy mind.

Just what had happened? Your babbling and jumbled words, earning you a receipt of his own personal number??

The more you thought about it, you figured this had to be some grueling joke. It had to, right? This never happened outside of fiction. Perhaps he had given you a public number of his, and if you texted it you might just end up embarrassing yourself.

But the look he’d had in his eyes when he glanced up at you before signing those ten numbers under his signature onto the very paper he held…surely he wasn’t one for cruel practical jokes, right?

Tucking the paper away for now, you brought yourself back to the present as the interview began.

For the entirety of the event, you couldn’t keep the giddy grin from your face as your favorite actors and actresses posed as their beloved characters to answer popular questions across many social media platforms. They would quote the author’s original scrip for accurate answers, as well as adding their own personal takes on the topics as the character’s roles.

How could this event have been any more enthralling; you had thought, just before managing to meet the gaze of Levi from the back of the room. Your breath stuck in your throat once more as you quickly diverted your stare.

But upon hearing the man start to speak into his small microphone to answer some questions on a cue card he held, your gaze snapped back up in an instant to find him. You could listen to his voice all day and never tire of how husky and yet smooth he sounded. While the questions were indeed interesting, and provoked curiosity within every fan present, you found it hard to focus on the words.

You pinched your thigh to make yourself concentrate less on the paper held securely in your hand, and more on the event you’d paid a good amount to come see.

The hours ticked by all too quickly, as much as you were anxious to get a chance to text Levi’s number. But finally the moment arrived when the cast all took a stand and thanked the audience for showing up.

Shaking hands grabbed at your belongings as you stood to clap alongside the hundred or so fans. The room was slow to clear, prohibiting you from leaving through the double doors just yet.

Realizing you’d be stuck in the exit line for some time, you let your anticipation get the better of you and pulled out your phone. You hesitated when the contact screen popped up, wondering just what you would say, should this in fact not have been a joke.

“Fuck it,” You whispered, hitting send.

Hey, Mr. Ackerman, this is Y/N from earlier. Loved getting to meet you today!

With a shaky sigh you pocketed your phone, fighting with your bag as you scanned the dispersing crowd. Your eyes naturally drifted back towards the interview table, watching the cast clear their things and be led back through a single door liking the back wall.

Surprisingly, Levi hadn’t departed yet. He stood beside two guards, arms folded and leaning casually against the table as they chatted.

You’d nearly looked away when his posture straightened. He pulled a thin black phone from his back pocket and unlocked it. You nearly lost your breath when he seemed to be reading the screen closely as his nimble thumbs ran across the lower half of the screen.

Daring to hope, you ducked down in the crowd slightly and checked the message you’d sent. And there at the bottom of the screen appeared a bubble icon.

Biting your lip, you were slightly saddened to see the line moving along. But now, you had a bit of a bounce to your step as you left the building and re-emerged back in the extensive parking lot.

You had to remind yourself to look away from your phone screen and watch for passing cars as you passed the walkway. Hastily unlocking your car, you slid inside and locked the door after you and picked up your phone.

I’m glad you enjoyed the event. But please, just Levi is fine. Seems you were anxious to test the validity of this number?

Who knows how long you sat there, shaking in your seat as your thumbs flew across the screen to form a response. But after some time discussing the event, Levi brought up the situation in which you hadn’t been able to say all you had wanted; what with the time limit per fan and your awkward stumbling.

With a burning face and shaking fingers you replied ‘yes’ to his suggestion for a quick call, as he had nothing left on his schedule after the interview, at least for a few hours.

You drove off with a tight grin, awkwardly taking the call once it rang. It was slow to begin with, you trying to be formal and Levi trying to convince you to just be yourself.

An hour into the drive home, you’d hardly recognized just how easy it had been to open up and ask the things you really wanted to know. He answered every question you had, to the best of your ability.

He never once sounded annoyed, nor distracted as the call progressed. In fact, he started asking you simple questions of his own.

Are you from around here?

No? Where at, then?

How damn long did you drive to get here?

When did you get into the show?

Why was my character your favorite? He’s kinda a dick.

All too soon you’d pulled into the lot outside your apartment, and bade him a hesitant goodbye. You’d have continued the call, if it hadn’t already been two hours of conversation and he had a shoot he had to attend for the company.

Offhandedly, he mentioned thinking on letting you have the first look how the photos would come out before he hung up, leaving you with an explosive feeling of butterflies in your gut.

Climbing the straits towards your room, you unlocked the door and flipped onto the couch with a barely contained scream.

You were living a reality you hardly thought feasible, how could you not be over the moon?

Just when you’d thrown your phone to the side some time later to grave dinner, your phone buzzed one last time.

*Attachment : 4 images.*

Never thought I’d give my number to a fan. Coffee at Highland Cafè around 2 o’clock next week? That’s closer to you.

[agentstarkid]

SZÍVEM ✦ DR3

"In the symphony of emotions, "Szívem" resonates as a melody of love and tenderness. This Hungarian term translates to "(you are) my heart" in English and carries a depth of emotion within the context of love. Beyond a mere anatomical reference, "szívem" embodies a profound and sentimental connection. It's a tender expression, encapsulating the heart's vulnerability and openness in love. When someone refers to another as "szívem," it reflects an intimate bond, signifying that their heart beats in unison with the other. It signifies a poetic intertwining of hearts, acknowledging that love is not just a fleeting emotion but a permanent residence within one's very essence. In the language of love, "szívem" conveys a sentiment that goes beyond words, expressing a deep, intrinsic connection and an acknowledgment of shared emotions at the core of a meaningful relationship."

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ type: social media au

✦ fc: becky g

✦ warnings: female!reader, fluff, mentions of sexual acts, age gap, language, internet meanies, horniness lol.

✦ pit wall live: Holii loves! I'm so sorry for the wait but so much has happened since I posted chapter 3, the main problem was that my laptop's battery died and I had to buy a new one and that took me weeks 😢 but I came back with a new ace up my sleeve...I KNOW HOW TO MAKE GIFS NOW!!! 🤩 (well, kind of lol). Also, I'd like to give a massive shoutout to Tally (@onceuponaoneshotfanfic) for being my personal English-er and always being an angel, letting me bounce on her all my ideas and all my constant ramblings 😝💖 — go and check out her fics, they are masterpieces! PLEASE don't forget to feed this fic monster with reblogs and/or comments! Enjoy this extra sweet chapter! 😘

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

JANUARY 1, 2021

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yourinstagram has added to their story!

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JANUARY 4 - 7, 2021

yourinstagram has added to their story!

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danielricciardo has added to their story!

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JANUARY 15, 2021

yourinstagram

♡ liked by rubendias, mclaren, danielricciardo and 6,452,325 others

yourinstagram SURPRISE!!! Excited to share that my studio album 'Chrysalis' is taking flight tonight at midnight! 🦋✨ To put it plainly, for the first time in my life, I just couldn’t stop writing songs. To try and put it more poetically, this album embodies a journey of love, growth, and the beautiful chaos in between. This couldn't have been possible without my muse, the one who untangled all the strings around my wings that were tied. Now, I remember what it feels like to fly ❤️

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user i would like to apologize now for the person i will become after this album comes out

danielricciardo I'm glad to witness your journey. You're the one soaring, and I'm here cheering you on from the ground. Keep reaching new heights, love ❤️

yourinstagram You might be cheering from the ground, but your love has been the wind beneath my wings 🦋❤️ Grateful for your unwavering support 🥰

lilymhe talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference

user3 "I love you so much and so you can imagine how much, count all the stars and add one more" <- "Tanto" is such a romantic song 😭

user4 i wish i could gatekeep this forever…

user5 we, the dan-y/n nation, claim butterflies as one of our anthems!

userA ‘Enchanted’ will forever be our #1 anthem, but ‘Butterflies’ is #2 🦋

user6 "boys will be boys but girls will be women" you should be damn sure i'm gonna blast that song in the office 24/7

user7 if the word ‘aesthetic’ was an album:

user8 what's everyone's chrysalis holy trinity!?

userA Butterflies, Cowboy Like Me, Golden Hour userB Peace, Lightweight & Little Did I Know — I'm a sucker for songs where the singer shows vulnerability userC userB i did tear up a little bit with Peace ngl — "Give you my wild, give you a CHILD"!?!? SCREAMING!!!! userD is2g miss yourinstagram if you come out announcing a baby ricciardo after this i'm gonna send you all my hospital and funeral expenses 🫠

user9 Mom help my emotional support global superstar is fucking with me again

userA AHDHERKR YEAH userB me every single day, this woman lives to terrorize me lmaoo userC she's insane and i just deal with it tbh I mean releasing a whole album after releasing another one not even 6 months ago?! that's NUTS!

user10 good morning to "With your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con" and "You set my world on fire and I know, I know everything's gonna be alright" and "little did I know you would be the one I confide in...Little did I know it was you before I ever decided" and "Never knew I could laugh 'til I couldn't breathe, never thought I could show someone all of me, things are better than they've ever been" and "I watch superman fly away, you've got a busy day today. Go save the world I'll be around" and "My name is whatever you decide and I'm just gonna call you mine. I'm insane, but I'm your baby" and "My heartbeat is a sail, your heartbeat is a wave" and "The way you look at me, I'm starting to believe that I could call you mine and you'd still let me shine" good morning to daniel ricciardo for the masterpiece he inspired.

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FEBRUARY 4, 2021

danielricciardo

♡ liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63, landonorris and 9,435 others

danielricciardo To the woman who makes every day brighter and my heart fuller... Happy anniversary, Chip ❤️ Here's to the love that grows stronger with each passing day.

View all 5,201 comments

yourinstagram One year down, forever to go! ❤️ Let's continue reaching for the stars together 😘

georgerussell63 Happy anniversary, lovebirds!

natalie_pinkham Happy anniversary to the dynamic duo! 🌟 Here's to many more years of joy and laughter! 🥂❤️

user Happy anniversary to the power couple that leaves our hearts racing 🏁❤️

kymillman Cheers to the love that keeps burning rubber and breaking records! Happy anniversary, Daniel and Y/N!

yourmomsinstagram Love you and miss you both ❤️❤️

userA not the queen mother only commenting on dan's posts 😂 yourinstagram userA don't be fooled by "both", she only means him. He's her favorite child now 🫡 yourmomsinstagram yourinstagram no seas celosa!! 🤨😅

user2 the difference between their captions speaks so loud lmao

userA maybe daniel is realizing that what he needs is a woman by his side, not a girl. userB uh I think you misspelled it, you meant he doesn't need a SLUT*

martingarrix Who would've thought that when I introduced these two, I'd be creating a masterpiece! 🤷‍♂️ Happy anniversary, you crazy kids!

danielricciardo Haha Garrix, the man of many talents! Thanks for playing Cupid that night, mate!

ausgp POWER COUPLE GOALS!! 😭

scottyjames31 Who knew Daniel's biggest accomplishment would be convincing Y/N to love his terrible jokes? Love sure is weird! Congrats mates! 🎉

danielricciardo I'm sure you can relate mate, right chloestroll? chloestroll all I can say is that yourinstagram and I desperately need a girl's trip yourinstagram i'm already packing my bags babe, see ya at the airport chloestroll danielricciardo 💔 scottyjames31 💔 x2

user3 Congrats! Just feels like male celebrities aren't even trying to find girlfriends over 25 anymore. Well good luck and God bless

user4 Their age difference is so gross 🤢

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yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, drewbarrymore, jessicaalba and 6,107,435 others

yourinstagram Every love story has a beginning, and ours started with a smile. Fast forward, it's been 365 days, countless memories, wild adventures, and a heart full of unwavering love, and it feels like we've only just begun. Thank you for being my constant, my greatest love, and my best friend. Happy anniversary, Danielito! Here's to the countless sunsets, slow-dancing in the kitchen and the beautiful journey of growing together.

I love you ❤️

I'll always feel enchanted to have met you. ✨🃏

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user she loves romcoms so much she’s now in one of her own 🥰

user2 Universe conspired, hearts collided, and now they're inseparable! ❤️

danielricciardo it's been a journey I wouldn't trade for anything, amor 🥰

martingarrix Happy anniversary to the dynamic duo I proudly orchestrated! 😎 As the undisputed mastermind behind this love story, I must say, you're welcome!

itsvittoriasousa uh nope, this was a joint effort 🤨 this wouldn't have happened if we didn't drag her to that party when all she wanted to do was to stay at home and watch re-runs of friends all night 🤦🏻‍♀️ iamdannaschwarz I wouldn't disagree with a pregnant woman if I were you, man 👀 yourinstagram itsvittoriasousa that was a great plan!! but I do prefer this outcome better so, thank you, guys! 😝

corey_wilson Happy anniversary, legends! Watching you two navigate this journey together is pure magic 🌟

zendaya the most attractive couple of all time!! Sorry to reduce you to looks 🤷🏾‍♀️

yourinstagram zendaya if you don't objectify us it doesn't count, babes 💕

user after everything she went through on her past relationships i'm really happy she's found someone who could love her and cherish her how she deserves! 🥹❤️

kristenanniebell Happy anniversary to the couple who defines love and friendship in the most beautiful way! ❤️

selenagomez such genuine souls 💕

user2 they just called me single in too many languages 😭 this video is so adorable! I feel like we are intruding in a sacred moment

userA their song choice is making me cry even more because ‘start of something good’ by daughtry conveys a sense of hope and optimism and the anticipation of a promising journey ahead and it's just perfect for them 😭❤️ userB He kisses her three times when "and all my scars don't seem to matter anymore 'cause they led me here to you" plays and now I'm on the fucking floor sobbing 😭

jvn Don't mind me, I'm just here melting because this is too damn cute 💖

user3 lucky girl, she is not that pretty, nothing special in her beauty

fioamato Happy anniversary, you two lovebirds! 🥂 Can't believe it's been a whole year of watching your love story unfold. Here's to many more chapters filled with laughter and adventures! Love you both! 💖✨ #ThirdWheelingForLife

user4 this looks like a fresh faced teenager with an old geezer. it's weird. Anyways, this relationship is not gonna last

donatella_versache Wishing you both a day as fabulous as you are ❤️

salmahayek Happy anniversary, danielricciardo and yourinstagram. Your journey is a testament to the power of true love. Here's to many more years of happiness! 🍾💖

user5 I’m gonna hug a tree at 90mph

user6 not my heart melting for these two 😭

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MARCH 9, 2021

yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, natalie_pinkham, chloestroll and 7,402,385 others

yourinstagram Giddy up, loves! 🐎✨ Excited to unveil the 'Cowboy Like Me' music video! This marks my directorial debut, and who better to have as the leading cowboy than the hottest man in town 🤤 This song, this video — it's all about him. Get ready for a wild west love story with a dash of cuteness, a sprinkle of sexy, and a whole lot of us. Join the ride! 🤠

View all 21,475 comments

danielricciardo Howdy, need a ride? 😏 You know what they say about a cowboy with a large belt buckle 😏

yourinstagram oh sir, i'm feeling really very altruistic lately and y'know what they say... save a horse, ride a cowboy 🤘🏼😜 btw it's that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? 😏 userA hello? 911? 👮🏻‍♂️ right here these two are being horny on main AGAIN 👀👀👀 JAIL TIME!!! 😩 userB I SPAT MY WATER!!! 😳

danielricciardo I had a hog-killin' time filming this 🤠 i'm waiting for my academy's nominations already 😎

user Mami? No. Mami? No. Mami? No. Mami?? 🥵🍑

camila_cabello OMG YES YES YES 🔥🔥🔥

lilyjcollins Always in awe of you 😍

user2 cant wait for y'alls kids to look back on this video in 20 years and be like wow my parents are so fucking cool

chloestroll forever obsessed with you ❤️

michaelitaliano i'm free next time you need an extra, just saying

yourinstagram sure, you can be the rodeo clown. I know you are a natural 😊 user lmaooooo 💀💀💀 it screams sibling energy 😂

user4 THE TAG PLACEMENT I CAN'T 💀💀 MISS Y/N YOU'RE A SAVAGE

user5 He's so proud to be with her!!! No one else has showed this amount of pride — they are both glowing 🤧❤️

lilymhe not a crumb was left 👏🏼 literally ICONIC

user6 He doesn't wreck her plans he helps them happen 😭

user7 she gives off desperate for attention vibes

user is it her or is it you hun? get off of her page

user8 LOOK AT MY MOM AND DAD!! 😭❤️

user9 WE ARE SHAKING MISS L/N

user10 flop flop flop flooooop 🤡

userA she really is so embarrassing lmao userB she needs to put on some fucking clothes because she looks like a slut 🤢

user11 can you imagine creating so much drama wherever you go, can't be able to keep your legs shut for once, leech off of your bf fame to promote your music video and still being the queen of flop 😂

user12 it is criminal how good they both look in this 🥵 when he had his hand lingering on her waist at the bar????? i was about to fucking COMBUST!!

userA what about at the rodeo??? when she runs her hands on the back of his shoulders and winks at him??? 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 userB this whole video is a religious imagery fr userC the little scenes of them in bed and around her room and house??? MADE ME REALIZE THAT I WAS NEVER AS STRAIGHT AS I THOUGHT I WAS 🤯😩

user13 the harries miss her so much 😭 but she looks so happy, she's absolutely glowing and I can't help but feel so happy for her ❤️ I hope he gives her the world because she deserves it so much ❤️🥺

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MARCH 14, 2021

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APRIL 1, 2021

vanityfair

♡ 3,170 likes

vanityfair When fame meets speed, love takes an exhilarating ride! #Y/NL/N and Formula 1 star Daniel Ricciardo heat up the cover of VF's April issue, sharing their rollercoaster ride of love, the challenges of distance, and electrifying plans that'll leave you wanting more! Their candid insights provide an inspiring portrayal of love amidst fame and busy schedules.

"Love is a beautiful and complex journey, and everyone's story is unique. While I can't speak directly to someone else's personal experiences, for me love has the power to heal and transform," the singer-actress tells VF.

In 2020, they experienced the global quarantine together in Australia, navigated the ups and downs of fame and long-distance relationship, celebrating wins and more.

View all 5,475 comments

yourinstagram Absolutely thrilled for this opportunity and be able to share it with my love. Grateful for each moment and excited for what's to come! ❤️

yourinstagram somebody call the fire department because we are smoking hot 🚒🔥

user 👆🏼 get yourself a woman that can do both 🤭 danielricciardo you lucky mf

[danielricciardo and others liked this]

user2 Who knew quarantine could lead to this much romance? 🥰

user3 Dreaming of falling in love during quarantine like Dan and Y/N. Can't relate, but happy for them! 😂💕

user4 suddenly i can't breath 🥵

user5 FUUUCK SHE'S WEARING HIS INITIAL 😭😭

userA smth smth "I want to wear his initial on a chain around my neck, not because he owns me but 'cause HE REALLY KNOWS ME. Which is more than they can say" userB in my eyes that's a big and subtle "f u" to the haters 🤭 userC UGH WHAT. A. WOMAN. 😩

user6 I can't decide if I wanna be Daniel or if I wanna be Y/N 🤯🥵

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MAY 9, 2021

yourinstagram

📍 Catalunya, España

♡ liked by rubendias, mclaren, danielricciardo and 6,452,325 others

yourinstagram you make me feel sweet like papaya 🧡

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mclaren Rocking the papaya color like no other 🧡😍

user she slays in every color 🔥

danielricciardo can I have a taste por favor? 👀

user2 #TeamYN forever and always 🧡

user3 her first time on the paddock this year and she ATE 🥰

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MAY 16, 2021

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itsvittoriasousa has added to their story!

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yourinstagram and danielricciardo have added to their stories!

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─── Please don't forget to reblog and/or comment! ♡

[pupyuj]

missing step daughter wony hours…

you ask and i DELIVERRRRR i missed her too 🥺🥺 THIS WAS KINDA... YEAH. I WAS REALLY INTO IT 😭😭😭

okok wony is already spoiled enough by her dad what with the big allowances n all that stuff and where does she decide to spend all that money? why, it's all for her lovely mommy! buying makeup, sexy lingerie, and pretty clothes—everything she can get to get praises and kisses from you! 🥺 as much as she loves the money, she loves being spoiled by you more. being pretty rich on your own, you often take wony with you to those big and fancy outlet malls just so you can get her whatever she wants,, mmfhdjgsjkfj taking her to those lingerie and nightwear stores,, joining her inside a changing room just to watch her strip down her clothes,, and she's always making sure to look right into your eyes,, ofc she doesn't actually get to try anything on bcs the moment she takes off the last piece of clothing that she has, you've pushed her against the wall and started marking her up 😵‍💫😵‍💫

omggg not caring about who might hear you outside the room?? turning her around and overstimming her from behind,,, pulling on her hair and just being a bit mean to her in her ear :(((( "so willing to let mommy fuck you in public like this... what a slut," AND LIKE... "might as well open up these curtains, huh? show everybody how good your mommy fucks you... what do you think, baby?" and wony's whining,, she's trying her hardest to not be too loud but with the pace you were fucking her in added with all your hair pulling.. it was so hard :((( yanking her hair and putting her back against your chest, sucking on her skin while she moans pathetically loud that she ended up covering up her mouth,, it was no use though! letting go of her hair and using that hand to play with her clit instead,, making it completely impossible for wony to not scream "mommy" every second you fucked her 🫠

heheuehdusdkj letting her go through the humiliation of facing people with the ten or so hickeys you've left on her neck,, the staff in the store feeling so awkward right up until the two of you left 😭 you started to feel a little bad after you've calmed down but to your surprise, wony was really really into that! bcs ofc she was, wony is rlly just such a whore for you 😩

heheheudhshk i also had this thought of you and wony being alone in the house again and feeling a little silly so you share some drinks 🤩 getting buzzed off some expensive champagne and letting wony take you to her room,, lazily making out with her while she takes off your jacket,, then she sits you down on her bed and you reach for her but she stops you,, "watch me, mommy... i learned a few good things from some unnies." and guess what! wony's giving you a show! turning on her lampshade, putting on some slow and sensual music, and god,,,, her keeping her eyes on you while she slowly let her robe fall to the floor,,,,, fuck,, her silhouette was so captivating,,, you wanted to grab her, to throw her on her bed, and just fuck her until she's crying and screaming,,, but you let her entertain you instead,,

leaning back on her bed while she dances in front of you,, fuck if you had a dick you would be so, so hard,,, watching as wony turns around, lowers herself just a bit so she could grind her ass on your groin,,, mmmfkdjssdfk losing control of yourself and pulling down her panties, lightly slapping her ass while she continues her work,,, eventually you really just couldn't take it anymore so you grabbed her waist and made her sit on her bed sjsdhhsk,, "you didn't let me finish, mommy," wony was pouting :((( but you knew that she would forget all about being upset after you were done with her <333

spreading her legs open, seeing her pretty, wet cunt all ready for you 😩 kissing her inner thighs first before almost literally making out with wony's pussy 🥴🥴 moaning against her cunt bcs she tasted so sweet :((( wony burying her hands in your hair and pushing you closer, her pretty moans getting louder and louder with every flick of your tongue on her clit :((( teasing her entrance, never rlly putting your tongue inside her cunt and focusing your attack on her little clit.. sucking, nibbling, giving it little pecks god wony doesn't even know how she wasn't coming yet 😩😩😩💦

noticing that wony was practically grinding on your face so you make her sit on top of you heehuehufhjs 😵‍💫🫠 holding onto her thighs while she rides your face,, her using your mouth as if it were your thigh, rocking her hips desperately,, pulling and tugging on your hair when you finally slipped your tongue inside her warm hole :(((( she was crying, so fucking overwhelmed by how amazingly skilled you were with your tongue,,, holding her down on your face as she came with a squeak, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes bcs it all felt way too fucking good???? mmdskshsjsdkh but like after all that wony is obviously super tired, but you're still energetic and so fucking horny... you definitely send her to sleep while slowly rubbing her clit and sucking on her perky little tits 🫣😳😳 her falling asleep with a smile bcs you kept calling her your good little princess, shes so obsessed with you in a silly wayhdfkjhfdjhc

AND PERHAPS... PERHAPS YOU FUCK HER WHILE SHE'S SLEEPING! 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

[forwhump]

a/n; IM SORRYYYYYY I feel like I haven’t posted anything in forever here’s something horrible to make up for it <3 (wren’s tortured again in this one)(but outside pov this time ! fun fun 🤩)(not actually fun tho v upsetting) (basically point murders a family but uses them to fuck w wren a little bit first)

word count: 4.5k

tw/cw: gun violence, sexual violence, rape/noncon, mass murder, misgendering (constant but unintentional)(also intentional), transphobia, psychological torture, imprisonment, implied sexual slavery

creepy whumper, outside pov

Running so hard he doesn’t have time to stop himself, Jonny collides with his mother’s kitchen door with enough force that his teeth rattle in his jaw. Benny, running behind him, collides with his back, and the added weight of him forces open the old door and they go sprawling across the kitchen floor together.

For a second, everything is almost normal. Mama’s standing over her cutting board. Billie’s burning something at the stove. Jenny’s sitting at the kitchen table, pretending to get work done but really playing solitaire on her laptop. They’d all moved home again to help Mama out with the farm and the house after their dad had died randomly and unexpectedly. It was nice, for a time, having them all together again. Jonny isn’t usually a sap, but it was nice. Until this.

Until the weirdo moved into Meadow. Meadow’s a farm, so to speak, and it’s on farmland, but it’s fenced off from the rest of the world with rows of tall trees. The place had been empty for a long time; it was weird anybody had moved in at all. It was weirder that the guy kept so much to himself. It made the choice of farm make sense, but it made him stick out like a sore thumb. People just aren’t like that in this corner of the world. With farms miles wide, neighbours aren’t close, so efforts have to be made to get to know them. You visit. You greet. You help out when you can. Town socials. It’s just what everybody does — except this guy.

Makes more sense now, though. The privacy. The secrecy.

“Slow down,” Mama chastises, as the both of them scramble up from the floor. “You’re too old now to be playing like that.”

Jenny scoffs. “Dorks.”

“Call the police,” Benny wheezes.

Mama looks up again. “What?”

“Call the police,” Jonny pants, and as soon as he’s on his feet, he slams the kitchen door shut, bolting it as quickly as he can with shaking hands.

“Jesus,” Billie says.

“What?” Mama repeats, putting her knife down to brush off her hands.

“You pick that thing up again right now,” Jonny commands. “Keep that in your hand. Call the police with the other. Jenny,” he orders. “You’re already on your phone. Call them, too. Get everybody out here.”

“Why?” Mama asks, but she does grab the knife. “What did you do?”

Benny shakes his head quickly. He’d managed to pull himself into a chair at the table, still catching his breath. Bit of a stoner these days, Benny. Better hope they don’t need to do a lot more running. Better hope the police get here before that guy does.

“Call, Mama!” Jonny snaps.

“What’s going on?” Billie asks. She’s a stoner, too. Useless lot of them. Not that running or sharp reflexes is gonna do a lot of good against that much military grade ammunition.

“Did you call, Jenny?” Jonny snaps.

“You know we have no service out here,” Jenny says with a snort, not looking up from the screen, too calm. “Mama has to call.”

“Are you calling?”

Mama isn’t. She’s hesitating. “I won’t if it’ll get you boys in a lot of trouble.”

“Oh my God,” Benny finally roars, “he’s got a girl, Mama!”

All three of the girls look up at the same time. Not appropriately shocked, but they’re getting there.

“What?” Jenny says.

“And so many guns,” Jonny says.

“And weird shit,” Benny adds. “Weird weapons. Weird torture shit.”

“And a girl,” Jonny repeats. “We thought she was dead, Mama, that’s why we went in —”

“You went in?” Billie asks, horrified.

At the same time, light explodes through the big window above the sink. Obnoxious headlights are swung towards their kitchen, the way they had run.

“He’s here,” Benny says.

“I’ll call!” Jonny shouts, and launches himself at the phone.

It’s dead. Almost comically, the phone is dead.

“Okay,” he says, and slams it back on the receiver. “Which one of you useless fucks was supposed to make sure the phone bill was paid?”

“Phone was Billie,” Jenny says.

“No, it wasn’t,” Billie says. “It was you, Jonny.”

Something slams against the kitchen door with a force that splinters the wood towards the centre.

Jenny screams.

Jonny says, “fuck!”

The door is kicked in. Jonny hadn’t actually seen their neighbour, not himself, not yet, just a fraction of the inside of his house and the bleeding, naked corpse he was keeping chained up inside. He sees him now as he fills the kitchen doorway. He’s a big fucking guy.

Fuck.

He’s got a big fucking gun in one hand. He’s keeping the girl slung over his shoulder with the other. Her hair is really long, and it’s kind of pink. Probably with blood, Jonny realizes, and it makes it hard to look at her.

Their neighbour looks at each of them, and there’s something not right in his eyes — he doesn’t have human eyes. He has the eyes of an animal.

Jonny doesn’t mean to, but he takes a step back.

He smirks, and Jonny almost takes another one. “What’s wrong?” He asks. His accent is deep, slow and Texan. It sounds fake. “Y’all were just so keen to meet me. And here,” he says, and lifts the girl off his shoulder to drop her, limp, onto the linoleum. He’d clothed her, but he’d dressed her in some stupid little doll dress. She’s so thin, in fact, her skin, where it isn’t bruised, so waxy, she almost looks like she could be a doll. Emaciated, probably, is the word for it. She’s probably dying, actually, and if she’s not, she’s probably getting there; she looks a lot like the way dying people are supposed to look. “Since you were so keen to get a good look at my wife.”

“Your wife?” Billie repeats.

Not a lot of her skin is waxy, in fact, because most of her is mottled in bruises or pink, shiny burns. Her hair is pink with bleeding. Her head moves a little, but she’s still face down, and she doesn’t move at all after that. For the second time that night, Jonny’s certain he’s looking at a corpse.

“Purty,” he says. “Ain’t she?”

“Oh my God,” Mama breathes.

“Oh my God,” he mocks, “how rude of me. I haven’t met you yet,” he says, and points, with his gun, at Mama. “I’m Darren. I’m your neighbour on Meadow. In the house your boys broke into.”

He keeps pointing it at her. She’s still holding a knife, but it’s a big fucking gun. Who brings a knife to a gunfight? What are they supposed to do? “I’m sorry,” Mama says.

“You will be,” Darren answers.

Without warning and with a speed Jonny would swear was unnatural, he turns the gun on Jenny. He pulls the trigger, and the gun sprays ammunition. He blows a good chunk out of her face.

For a second, after the skin of her cheek and the grey of her brain have sprayed the wall behind her, her body stays upright. Then it slumps forward onto the table with a horribly wet sound and Benny just manages to push back from it before he leans over and throws up, splattered with blood and chunks of teeth. Jonny can’t tell his shouting from Mama’s, from Billie’s, from Benny’s once he starts.

“You should’ve stayed away from my house,” Darren says, and his voice isn’t Texan at all.

“I’m sorry,” Benny breathes.

Mama’s wailing, unintelligible, and Billie slides an arm around her.

Jonny doesn’t mean to but his legs give out and he sinks to his knees. His ears are ringing. He doesn’t want to look at Jenny, what’s left of her, but this close to the ground puts him too close to the neighbour’s wife and Jonny doesn’t want to look at her, either. He can’t help it.

“Not yet,” Darren says. He pulls the trigger again, blows Mama’s kneecap right out of her leg and she goes sprawling across the kitchen floor with a scream. The barrel is still hot, sizzling against Jonny’s skin as Darren uses it to tilt his face upwards by the chin. “You,” he says. “You’re looking awfully hard at my wife,” he says, and his fake accent is back. It’s hard to tell if he keeps forgetting to put it on or if it’s just a layer to fucking with them. Something psychological.

He looks too close at Jonny with those fucked up eyes and Jonny can’t say anything.

“You like what you see?” He asks, and he asks like there’s a right answer. Jonny has no idea what the right answer could be.

“Is she still alive?” Is what comes out, and it’s not the right answer.

He frowns. “Of course she’s still alive,” and kicks her hard in the side. She makes a soft sound, and it makes the hair on the back of Jonny’s neck stand up, but she makes a sound. She isn’t dead. Darren clicks his tongue. “C’mon, cowgirl. Rise and shine, now.” With his boot, he pushes her onto her back.

She makes another soft, horrible sound. Jonny inhales sharply. Slowly, she blinks up at the ceiling, wide eyed and probably dazed. She has startlingly dark eyes, and her left eyes, where it’s supposed to be white, is a dark, bleeding red.

Darren smiles with all his teeth and it’s unnatural the way it stretches across his face, like he’s wearing a mask that doesn’t quite fit. It doesn’t reach his eyes even a little bit. “There she is.”

“What?” The girl says, definitely dazed. Her voice is rougher than it looks like it would be. She sounds like she’s from Texas, too, but she sounds like her accent might be real. She blinks at the ceiling, vacant.

“It’s time to meet our neighbours, baby,” Darren says. “And you’re being awfully rude, sleeping through it.”

Her hands are tied tightly in front of her. Slowly, her head turns against the linoleum, just far enough that she looks, for the first time, at Jonny. For a long few moments, she looks right through him. Then she sees him, and something horrible dawns on her face. She looks quickly up at Darren, who grins again, grotesque. “What are you doing?” She breathes.

“They wanted to meet you,” he says. “And I know you’ve been getting lonely in that big ol’ house, only me around to keep you company.” He smirks as he looks up, and it’s still unnatural, but it reaches his eyes. He’s mean. “Used to have a lot of gentlemen callers, my girl. Didn’t you, baby? Wasn’t anything I could do to get her to keep her legs closed.”

She starts to sit up but Darren plants his boot hard in the centre of her chest, hard enough it knocks the wind out of her. She gasps.

Benny sniffles and says, “listen, man —“

“Listen, man,” Darren mocks. “I have been trying to mind my own business. We have been trying to keep to ourselves. You broke into my home. You put your hands on my wife.”

“Oh my God,” she says, still winded, but her words fold in disgust, “I’m not —“

He points the gun down into her face and says, “stop talking.” She does.

It had been pretty obvious something really fucked up was going on over on Meadow. It was weird anybody had moved in because it had been vacant for so long, and it had been vacant for so long because it just had such bad vibes. Anybody that came to look at it left and didn’t come back for it. It was too isolated. Creepy. Anybody that moved into that place had to be up to something. Jonny and Benny had been curious, that was all. Jonny had figured it was some weird, creep old man with a taxidermy hobby, that he’d borrow one of their horses sometime to fuel it. Benny had said doomsday prepper; Benny was closer, in the end. When the first thing they had seen were all the military weapons, they thought he was right, actually. The bound, naked girl that was obviously not his wife had thrown them off course a little.

And still, Jonny couldn’t have anticipated he’d be the kind of man to then show up in their kitchen to shoot his sister in the face. They’re all gonna die, right? That has to be how this ends. How else are they gonna get out of this? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Across the kitchen, crouched protectively next to Mama, Billie sniffles. “Jenny didn’t do anything. Jenny didn’t break into your house.”

“She knew too much,” Darren answers, lifting his head too quickly, jerky. “You all know too much now, matter of fact. Figured your boys wouldn’t do a good job of keeping their mouths shut.”

“Then what are you doing?” Billie asks. When did she get so brave? Jonny must’ve missed it while he was cowering. “Get it over with.”

“Nah,” he says, and grins again, most grotesque this time. It reaches too much of his weird eyes. “I wanted to play with y’all a little. And you,” he turns the gun suddenly on Jonny, “are still looking awfully hard at my wife.”

He’d been trying really hard not to look at her, in fact. He swallows, and it kind of hurts.

“C’mere,” Darren says.

It goes in one ear and leaves out the other. Jonny only looks at him. Swallows again.

“Now,” he orders, and the irritation that leaks into his voice clears it of the fake accent.

“What?” Jonny says.

Darren sucks his teeth and says, “come here, boy. If I have to repeat myself again I’ll put down your other sister.”

Billie inhales sharply.

Dazed, Jonny heaves himself to his feet. He staggers closer, closer to Darren, to the barrel of that fucking gun.

Darren lifts it and says, “go on, now. Since you’ve been so fuckin’ curious. Get a good look at her. Go on.”

With shaking legs, Jonny kneels again, somewhere close by her thigh. He tries not to touch her. It’s hard to look. She probably was very beautiful once; she looks really sick now.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

Darren points the gun at her again. “Stop. Talking.” She does, and he turns it back on Jonny. “Well? What do you think? Looker, isn’t she?”

Jonny doesn’t say anything. Swallows again.

The gun clicks. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Jonny says.

“I know,” he agrees. He’s forgetting the accent. It’s starting to slip, replaced with something Northern, something more carefully militant. “You like what you see?”

“Yes,” he repeats.

“Go on, then,” Darren says, Texan. “Fuck my wife.”

Her knees close in time with Jonny’s leaning away. “What?” He says. Mama sobs, and Jonny hears it clearer than anything.

“Oh my God,” the girl says, and she sobs, too. “Point —“

He aims the gun at her. His face is completely blank. He’s probably old — he’s twenty years older than her, at least — his hair is starting to grey by the temples, but he has skin kinda like a doll. Jonny doesn’t think there’s anything artificial about it — he wonders if any sort of expression just doesn’t come naturally to this guy. “Don’t call me that,” he says, flat. Northern. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop talking?”

Jonny wonders if he’d really kill her. It doesn’t seem like she’d be so lucky; he’d probably just make it hurt.

She sobs again. Jonny wonders how long she’s been with Darren, and for how much of that time she’s been sick. He wonders how old she is. He wonders if he wants to know.

“Relax,” Darren says to her, dismissive and cruel. “You used to fuck dogs. You can take this.”

Her chest heaves with crying but there aren’t any tears. Jonny wonders if she just doesn’t have any left. “Shoot me,” she says, thick.

He does. He points the gun down and shoots her in the foot. Jonny scrambles away. The gunshot is loud, explosive; the sound she makes is soft. Wet. Her head lolls to one side.

Darren steps down hard on her foot and she barrels back into consciousness with a cry, something ear piercing. “Be a good girl,” he says, “and keep your eyes open. You,” he says, and points the gun at Jonny again. “Get back over here and fuck my wife.”

Jonny swallows audibly. What is he supposed to do? He’s gonna die anyway. But how much does he want it to hurt?

Maybe it doesn’t have to hurt. Maybe he won’t kill them. Maybe, if they just play along —

“Darren,” she’s sobbing. “Darren, I’m sorry, please —“

Darren’s mocking the way that she cries, a hitching sort of rasp of a sound. “Be a good girl, now,” he says, and he lays the accent on thick. “Hitch up your skirt, cowgirl.”

She covers her face with bound, trembling hands. Sobs something that sounds like, “I’m so tired.”

“You can lay right there, sugar,” Darren says. “You know you do your best work on your back.” She sobs, and he says, “lie back and think of Texas.”

She lowers her hands. She’s getting really pale. “I think about Silas,” is what she says.

Darren’s face falls, right back into something flat and doll like. He points the gun down, shoots her in the same foot. She screams at a pitch that makes Jonny flinch. Darren spits in her face. “How many times do I have to tell you,” he seethes, lethal and Northern, “not to think about that fuckin’ thing? Get over here,” he snaps, and he’s speaking to Jonny this time. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Jonny swallows bile.

Darren says, “you know what? What the hell,” and points the gun at Benny. “You, too. You’re watching awfully close. Get over here.”

Benny doesn’t look up from the girl, but he shakes his head.

Darren turns the gun. Aims it into the kitchen. “You boys get over here,” he says, “or I’m gonna shoot your mother in the fuckin’ face.”

Mama screams. Billie sobs as she hugs her tighter.

Jonny’s ears rings with the sound of them as he looks at Benny. Benny looks back, and he looks at him blankly before he looks away. Slowly, he heaves himself from his chair. Staggers to Darren and the girl like he’s possessed.

Darren smirks, angling his head towards Jonny. “Your turn, now.”

Jonny doesn’t remember moving but he finds himself swaying on his feet.

To Benny, he says, “kneel by her head.” To the girl, he says, “be good. Spread your legs.” She doesn’t, but she’s sick and she’s skinny and he kicks them apart, anyway, easy, steps down again with all his weight on her broken foot to keep her still. She cries out so hard her back arches off the floor and Jonny takes an instinctive step back. Just as quickly, he’s looking down the barrel of the biggest fuckin’ gun he’s ever seen. “Kneel,” Darren says.

Jonny does. He wishes he didn’t, but he does, sinking to his knees between the spread of her thighs. Her tied hands are shaking. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t,” she begs softly. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and she sobs.

“No —“

“Tip your head back, cowgirl,” Darren says. “Open wide.”

“No,” she says, and her breath hitches.

Benny doesn’t say anything but he slowly slides his fingers into her bloody hair, turning her head gently.

“No,” she pleads, trying to reach out with tied hands and it makes Jonny’s skin crawl. “Don’t,” she begs, and Jonny retches.

The barrel of the gun is pressed to the base of his skull and the size of it could probably blow his head clean off his shoulders. “Go on, now,” Darren says.

“Please,” she sobs, and she’s looking up at Benny as Benny tips her head back.

Jonny’s hands are shaking so hard he struggles with the button on his jeans. The ruffles of her dress are already soaked with blood and he retches again. She’d been bleeding when they found her in the house, but not this much. What did he do to her before he brought her to them? What’s wrong with this guy?

There’s something still so surreal about it, even with Jenny’s brain staining the wallpaper, even with the barrel hot against his scalp through his hair. This kind of shit doesn’t happen in real life, especially not to people like them, like Mama, unassuming farmers. Maybe a little nosey, but they’re only bored. Harmless. This is the kind of shit that happens in horror movies that aren’t even all that scary, they’re so unrealistic. How can this be happening to them?

He leans into her and her whole body trembles as she cries, as she pleads. Jonny tries his best to leave his body, to go somewhere else, but there’s too much and it keeps pulling him back to himself, to this place, to the floor of his mother’s kitchen. There’s the girl, the rough, panicked hitching of her crying, how desperately she begs him to stop, how hard she trembles. She presses her knee into him, tries to push him away, and Jonny can feel too much of the bones in her leg.

And then she isn’t crying, she doesn’t beg, because Benny is holding her head still as he eases himself into her mouth and Jonny doesn’t mean to, but he sobs, something hoarse.

Still, she struggles, but her hands are braced against Benny as she tries to push him away and it isn’t much of a fight as Jonny pushes up her skirts. As Jonny pushes himself inside her.

He tries to go somewhere else again, somewhere far outside himself, to someplace he isn’t fucking a crying girl in his mother’s kitchen on the floor in front of her at gunpoint. It’s hard to escape. He screws his eyes shut, tries to think about anything else, but she’s so wet and she’s so warm she’s almost too warm and Jonny knows it’s with bleeding, he can’t think about anything else, accidentally pushes into her harder than he meant to and her bleeding body makes a wet sound that makes him gag.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs.

Benny doesn’t say anything. Benny doesn’t say anything until he grunts. Shudders. Scrambles away from her suddenly and unsteadily.

She has just enough time to turn her head before she vomits across the linoleum.

Jonny bows his head as he sobs again.

Darren says, “enough.”

Jonny jerks away from her too quickly and her body makes another horribly wet sound. The sound she makes in return is too soft, kind of broken. “I’m sorry,” Jonny says.

“I’ve been telling you,” Darren says with a smile, “you will be.” There’s nothing natural in his smile. There’s nothing human in his eyes. “Get up,” he tells them, and steps over the girl, crossing the kitchen with slow strides. He stops, standing across from Mama. “And come here.”

Slowly, they do. They stand, fix their pants, stagger across the kitchen. It’s hard to explain, but Jonny feels kind of out of it, like he’d been hit really hard in the head. Everything’s gotten kinda fuzzy around the edges.

Darren smiles again. “Face your mother.”

Slowly, they do.

“On your knees,” Darren says.

Jonny doesn’t sob again but the tears don’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” Benny’s stuck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Darren exhales a sound that might be a laugh, if he were human. “Choice last words,” he says. The barrel of the gun finds the back of Jonny’s head.

“Please,” Mama says, and he hears her louder than anything. “Don’t hurt my boys.”

“What would you propose I do?” Darren asks. The barrel is so hot through his hair Jonny’s sure his scalp is burning. “Your boys just raped my wife.”

“I’m sorry,” Benny’s chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s always been a big guy, now a farmer — he’s never seemed so small before.

“I’d hope so,” Darren says, and he says it with a flat, Northern accent, nothing Texan about it at all.

“Darren,” the girl says, and Jonny feels a bit sick, he still doesn’t know her name and he probably won’t ever find out, “don’t do this.” She sounds like she’s from Texas for real, and it’s not the first time Jonny’s noticed but it’s the first time it occurs to him that maybe Darren’s accent isn’t psychological warfare at all, maybe he’s making fun of his wife.

It’s obvious, suddenly, in the way he drawls, “I’m defending your honour, cowgirl.”

He’s quick. It almost seems like he’s too quick, too, to be human. The barrel is pressed to the back of Jonny’s head one second, and the next, Benny’s head bursts into plates of skull and meaty chunks of brain tissue. Blood is sprayed aagainst Jonny’s side.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t do anything; he freezes, and he watches across the kitchen through red mist as another gunshot rings out and crouched next to Mama, a hole explodes in the centre of Billie’s chest. She makes a wheezing, gasping soft of sound. Her throat bursts open with the next gunshot, and she never makes a sound again.

“Why are you doing this to us?” Mama breathes. She’s been painted red with Billie.

“This is what happens to nosey families who don’t mind their fuckin’ business,” he answers. And he shoots Jonny’s mother in the face.

Finally, he turns the gun on Jonny. “Any last words?”

“I don’t know,” Jonny says.

He doesn’t hear the gunshot, there isn’t time, but he can feel the heat building against the side of his face.

Then, finally, it’s over.

For a long time, Wren stares up at the ceiling, at the blood splattered across the beams.

It was their kitchen. Point had slaughtered these people in their kitchen.

Wren doesn’t know why the cruelty surprises him, but it does. He didn’t think he had it left in him to be scared anymore but he’s that, too.

Point’s face comes into view above him. “This is what happens to people that try and help you,” he says. “I want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t look disturbed that he just massacred a family in the heart of their home, but he doesn’t look pleased, either. He doesn’t look anything. Somehow it’s worse. “What are you gonna do with me when I die?” He asks.

It makes Point smile. “You know I won’t let that happen,” he says. “We’re having too much fun, cowgirl.”

[two-white-butterflies]

two white butterflies | d. targaryen

Description: He begins dating a singer, and you kinda hate the spotlight. Pairing: accomplished!daemon targaryen/singer!reader.

"How do you even open this?" you gruff while attempting to open the bottle of wine sitting aimlessly on your countertop. Daemon, your boyfriend of eight years, lets out a chuckle - watching with amusement while you struggle with opening the merlot. "If you need my help, tell me." he takes a casual sip of his black coffee.

His independent girl.

"I can do it," you encourage yourself while gathering all the strength you can muster in taking the cork off. It was supposed to be easy because of the tool - but it only made it feel harder. After a few more seconds of struggling, you finally give in.

You take a step towards him - poking his sides slightly and his attention is torn from the newspaper. "Can you help me?" you flash him those puppy eyes and he hums, taking the bottle and the unscrewer from your hands - opening the bottle with ease.

"Why are you drinking so early in the morning, princess?" he asked, returning his attention back to the newspaper. A small sigh escapes your mouth, remembering the current problem on your hands. "I feel like - I'm entering my flop era," you complain, pouring yourself a glass of wine. His eyebrows merged into each other.

"Meaning?" he inquired - not fully versed with the slang.

"I've finally reached the point in my career where no one gives a fuck about me." you breathed, remembering the speech that your manager gave about streaming numbers - and how you didn't have enough. "I give a fuck about you," he whispered, forgetting about the newspaper for a moment and wrapping his arms around you.

"I give a fuck about you too," you lean into his touch - and he begins to bury his face on the crook of your neck.

There was a niche part of the music industry that belonged solely to you - but with the revolutions in music, the fans have forgotten about you. They've forgotten about their aesthetic roots of americana.

"- I feel pressured right now, the label is counting on me to come up with songs." you rant, knowing that failure was about to follow you. This was about to be your fourth studio album - and everyone knows about the 'fourth' curse. "We'll come up with songs together," he promised, pressing a soft kiss on your collarbone.

He'd do everything to make you happy.

(your full name): 'White Dress' out at 12 AM EST. makeup by @archiemakeup photo by @professordaemontargaryen

1,239 comments 129,374 likes

tyronebelmonte: NO WAY BECAUSE THE GUY WHO TOOK THE PHOTO IS MY PROFESSOR 🤩

y/nworld: w'ere so excited 🧡

Another sigh escapes your mouth seeing the numbers on your instagram. Only a hundred thousand likes - nothing compared to the millions you had when you were starting out.

Daemon takes the phone out of your hands.

"Stop checking it," he commanded, closing your phone and settling it down the night table. He hates the way that your eyes held nothing but sadness in it nowadays. "- numbers don't matter, your voice and your songs sound amazing." he added - complimenting you and pressing soft kisses on your lips.

Part of the reason he fell for you - was because of your voice.

It was akin to a siren.

"I'm too old for this," you pout, burying your face in his chest.

It was nice when you were eighteen - but now that you were twenty-eight. You were 'nearing' expiration simply because they couldn't fetishize your age anymore.

"Darling, you're 28 and I'm 35 - you're too young for this. Believe me." he hummed, placing a strand of your hair away from your face.

spongebobmultifandom: Missing this era of Y/N L/N, now she's just 💀...ion wanna talk.

12,890 comments 234,912 likes

kingdomfall_7: she kinda looks too old now 😭

bitchesandbananas9123: I thought I was the only one lol

(your full name): if you don't have anything good to say, please keep your mouth shut. 😊

"A fucking hatepost has more likes than my actual post," you rant - throwing your phone loudly on the mattress. Tears began flowing out of your eyes while your lover does his best to comfort you. "Hey," he wrapped his arms around you - thinking that it would be enough to bring you to reality.

"If you want to run away from this - I have no complaints." he suggested, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Running away was going to be the bravest thing you've ever done.

y/nworld_whitedressera: "This is going to be the last song I sing for all of you. I had a fun time changing everything and writing songs that I shared, but this is the end of the line." - Y/N L/N while singing "Nothing New" in Taylor Swift's Eras Tour.

189 comments 177,003 likes

(your full name): Releasing the deluxe version of Blue Bannisters, with bonus song "Violets for Roses".

17,293 comments 1,369,203 likes

madelinediaz: I'm about to throw hands, who hurt mom?

y/nlover: NOT YA'LL MAKING MY AESTHETIC COCAINE PRINCESS QUIT HER JOB 😭 I DON'T WANNA GO BACK TO LISTENING TO RAP MUSIC

ShakiraFAN: The song is so sad, we're gonna miss you 🥺

Y/N L/N, WHERE IS SHE NOW?

The songstress had a blossoming career and a cult-like following, however she suddenly fell of the grid after her grammy winning song 'White Dress.'

According to insiders, the singer couldn't handle the hate that comes with fame - and the music industry's double standards.

She is currently married to Dr. Daemon Targaryen M.D. P.hD and is living in Spain. "I'm happier than ever and I'm still writing songs, but now - he's the only one allowed to listen." the former-singer reports.

y/nworld: ppl in her label say that there was supposed to be another album after "Blue Bannisters" named "Chemtrails Over the Country Club" AND WE DIDN'T HAVE THE CHANCE TO HEAR IT.

maybe_y/n: listened to her leaked album (toaster quality recording) and now the only thing i want is for it to be published (it never will)

part two is how to disappear

@watercolorskyy

[sunflowerhyuckie]

Profiles (1) !

kang juri: @/judgejury is a 2nd year psych student who's currently regretting all her life decisions. she decided to major in psychology thinking that it would help her be mentally sane in the long run and understand people better but the only thing she's getting out of this is stress. The only good things in her life are NTC 172's songs and Jung jaehyun. She's quiet and doesn't talk much, she let's things go as they are and doesn't like to meddle with life.

lee haechan (donghyuck): @/hyuckdlee is a 2nd year computer science student who's having the time of his life (no he's not- the workload is too much he is about to give up; he should have taken music). He's loud, outspoken and cheers up everyone with his (bad) jokes. He thinks NTC 172 are overrated and that he can definitely sing better than them (better? Idk about that but he can match their level for sure). If there's one thing he hates (affectionate) more than NTC 172, it's his twin Hera. Oh, and he an itty bitty crush on his bestfriend juri.

mark lee: @/sparkleee is a 2nd year music student who loves music with all his heart. He is well established on YouTube and SoundCloud and has fans from the whole country. How he blew up? He doesn't know but he likes to write songs for artists and release his own. His biggest achievement is taking part in writing the song 'baby don't like it' by NTC 172.

lee hera: @/heralovesplants is a 2nd year bottany student who wishes she was named Demeter instead of Hera. She is a doyoung fan and loves NTC 172's music. She swears it's the only thing keeping her going in this harsh harsh world. Her love for plants is crazy and her dorm is filled with different kinds of plants. She's unserious and a little loud. Haechan is her biggest hater and she is his.

na jaemin: @/jaeminthemiddle is a 2nd year med student who talks about dropping out every Friday at 10 am (it's scheduled and one of his friends has to say 'JAEMIN NO' to stop him.) He's interested in photography but picked medicine because he thought 'how bad could it possibly be?' well, it is very bad but the thought of the money he could earn is rewarding and keeps him going.

giselle (aeri): @/aeriselle is a 2nd year fashion design student who is very much happy with her major. Gives fashion advice to anyone who asks and loves to help her friends. She jokingly (🤨) simps on eco major Karina, listens to NTC 172 and LOVES to play dress to impress with 10 year olds (she swears she doesn't bully them!)

huang renjun: @/renningaway is a 2nd year law student who picked law because he was told he was good at debating and arguments. He doesn't know if he likes his major or not. He's not looking for relationships right now and wants to pursue art as a side quest but he's not so sure about it. He bickers with hyuck on a daily basis and is very close to juri.

li jixia: @/xiaxia10 is a 2nd year dance student and has a YouTube channel where she posts dance videos every week. She likes renjun and has liked him ever since she first met him (it was quite cute- we'll get to it later.) She's NTC 172's biggest fan and supports hyuck and hera's dumb decisions wholeheartedly.

pairings: main - haechan x fem!oc, side - mark x fem!oc, renun x fem!oc and giselle x karina.

genre: smau, written, fluff, angst (minor), bsf-to-lovers.

warnings: pls check the Masterlist!

taglist: open! pls send an ask or comment to be added!

a/n: I made mark the same age as the others because why not 🤩

Masterlist

[aralezinspace]

Sweet Nightmares (The Tale of the Blade in the Dark) Part I

A single Hidden One goes against Dream of the Endless, and gets way more than they bargained for. One does not emerge from a nightmare unscathed. Next

A/N: (crossover with Assassin's Creed) My contribution to @roguelov's Sweet Nightmares challenge! I had so much fun writing this 🤩Writing action and stuff like this is one of my favorite things. parts 2-4 will be out this week as I edit them. Enjoy! gif by @honeybeezgobzzzzz

Warnings: AFAB, named, they/them reader, blood, nightmare!Morpheus, some Endless style torture, copious use of petnames

The Fortress of Alamut, Persia, 999 AD. 

The night was bitterly cold. A Master Assassin in the twilight of their prime doggedly trudged up the path to the main courtyard before the fortress. They could see a campfire burning, with a dozen men mingling around it. They shivered, even the heavy cloak they had purchased from a village at the foot of the mountains couldn’t keep out the cold. They missed the warmth of the sun and grit their teeth against the ice trying to settle in their bones.

“Halt!” one of the men cried, drawing his sword as the Master entered the ring of firelight, their face shadowed by their hood. “Who are you, stranger, what are you doing here?” The Master could see these men and women were mostly novices and a few journeymen Assassins by the state of their robes, but they had all settled into a fighting stance, ready to defend their home themselves or get reinforcements. 

They chuckled, their hands held up by their shoulders. “I am no stranger, but one of your brothers from the Levant.” They took a few more steps toward the fire, the heat of the flames just tickling their nose. The one novice lowered his sword just a fraction of an inch, his eyes darting to the pattern of their robes and armor, the Assassin insignia on their belt. “Forgive me, Master.” His words were shaky, humble, as he sheathed his sword. 

“There is nothing to forgive, novice,” they replied with a smile, lowering their hands. “Were I actually an intruder who meant you harm, you would have been ready. May I share your fire for a while before going inside? Your Mentor is expecting me, but I am weary from the road.” 

“Yes, please, of course.” The novice gestured to the circle of logs around the fire, and the others sat down as well, scooting closer to each other to make room for their visitor. The Master sat heavily, exhaustion settling on their shoulders as the fire began to warm them. 

“Thank you,” they murmured. “In return for your kindness, let me give you a story.” The novices all shifted, staring at the Master with rapt attention. Stories told by Master Assassins were rare things; usually they were too busy with the work of the Brotherhood to indulge in oral tradition with those beneath them. The Master continued, “I never sleep well on the road, and the long nights have brought this particular story to mind. It tells of a Hidden One, one of our own, and the King of Dreams. Where I am from, we call it the tale of the blade in the dark.”

The City of Baghdad, mid 700’s AD.

The sun pounded on their head as their running feet pounded the streets of Baghdad. Clouds of golden dust sprang up with every step, booted feet slapping against the stones pressed into the ground. Every breath of hot, dry desert air laced with sand burned in and out of their lungs. Sweat dripped down the back of their neck, rolling down their spine only to be soaked up by their blouse and mixed with the blood staining the fabric red. 

Robes that had once been the white of a dove’s wing were growing dull with age and wear. A white hood with a beak like an eagle covered their head, keeping the sun out of their eyes and their face out of the enemy’s. The leather cuirass, bracers, and greaves had seen better days, but the material was still strong. The left bracer held their hidden blade, its snug weight around their forearm a grounding sensation in the midst of all the chaos. Their blade had never let them down before. A scimitar hung from their belt, a curved dagger securely sheathed across the back of their waist. 

The armor would need to be repaired, if they made it out of this alive. A brute with a great two handed sword had almost gotten the better of them- rather than an immediate death blow, the Hidden One had managed to strafe away just far enough for the blade to rip through the leather covering their side, along with their flesh. Blood that was not theirs had been splattered across their face and neck, along with a few smudges on the bottom hem of their robes. Their palms were coated in red as well, rapidly becoming dry and sticky as they ran.     

Angry shouts of armed guards followed close behind, mixed with the clattering of their weapons and shouts of civilians being roughly shoved aside. The guard captain had almost lost the fleeing assassin, but the steady trail of blood droplets staining the sand provided a reliable trail. They wouldn’t escape this time, not with that injury.

The Assassin grit their teeth and continued to run, gasping for breath. The gash in their side throbbed with every step, every beat of their heart. The shirt under their robes and leather armor and weapons belt was soaked with blood, the fabric clinging to their skin and creeping into the wound. The Hidden Ones bureau wasn’t far, just a few streets away, but the guards were almost on them, and they could not, would not, compromise the brotherhood. 

They were running out of time and options: either lose their pursuers in the maze of Baghdad’s streets and alleys, or face them head on. Six against one, a fight they could win any other day, when they weren’t bleeding out. They pressed a hand to their side, grunting and grimacing.

The Hidden One turned a corner and stumbled, a harsh gasp forced from their lungs as they leaned hard into the cool stone of the building next to them. Their hand left a smear of red on the tanned stone. Their vision went fuzzy around the edges, a shudder wracked their frame. They swore under their breath; the guards were almost on them. Frantic brown eyes darted around, looking for a way out, somewhere to disappear. 

There, a dozen steps ahead: a ladder to the flat rooftops, connected by a scaffold of ropes and planks. Gasping for breath and snarling in pain, they pushed their screaming body forward, their steps heavier and slower by the second.

The guards turned the corner just as their target reached the top of the ladder and began tiredly sprinting across the rooftops. The captain shouted a series of frustrated commands: two guards followed the fleeing assassin up to the roof while the rest split off to follow from the ground.

The Assassin kept running, kept leaping from building to building, kept weaving around rooftop gardens and clotheslines, pushed their pain riddled body to keep going. Every step was heavy agony, every reach for the next ledge ripped them apart. If they couldn’t lose their pursuers, they could at least pick the best spot for their last stand. 

They continued to climb, tears of pain and desperation mixed with the blood and sweat and sand already clinging to their face. Just a little further… 

The roof of the covered bazaar. Long, flat, free of stray obstacles, intermittently dotted with enclosed rooftop gardens. Each was a small, house-like structure: a square of knee-high fencing, four posts, a roof, and a thin curtain on each side, flowing in the breeze. As they panted for breath, a thought occurred: hide, and maybe live to fight another day.

They started to run to the furthest garden, their legs giving out after just two steps. They cried out as they fell, the stone of the roof scraping their palms. Despair settled fast and heavy at their back. Before they could give in, the guards’ shouts cut through the hum of activity and conversation from the market below. Their heart pounded harder, primal survival instinct dragging them slowly to leaden feet and pushing them forward. 

They had just tumbled over the fencing and into the garden when the soldiers reached the rooftop. Squished leaves and vegetables crunched under the weight of their body, the moisture in the soil traded places with the blood soaking their clothes. 

They breathed deeply, forcing themselves to calm their racing heart while resisting the temptation to let their eyes fall shut and succumb to blackness. The guards were definitely looking; they could hear the confused shouts and orders to spread out, the footsteps that tried and failed to be quiet. 

It was only minutes, but it felt like hours before the last of them finally gave up and clambered down from the roof. A heavy sigh rattled out of their lungs and they let their limbs fully relax into the soft earth beneath them. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to think. 

The Hidden One felt tears burn at the back of their eyes, and a high, pathetic whimper bubbled unbidden from their mouth. They had failed in their mission. They had failed to kill the target. Looking back, it was a miracle they had managed to escape the palace alive. After all, who sends a single Assassin against Dream of the Endless? 

They had to get back to the bureau- They were a Master Assassin, and refused to pay for the folly of their superiors with their blood. 

Groaning, the Assassin lifted themselves up to sitting and looked around, hoping and praying they had chanced upon a garden with at least one intact medicinal herb… no such luck. With another groan, this one in exasperation, they stood and released their hidden blade with a quick flick of their wrist. Gritting their teeth against the pain of reaching up, they cut down one of the curtains concealing them and sliced it into strips, tying the ends together. Once they had a sufficiently long piece, they wrapped it around their torso, covering the massive gash splitting their side open, and tied it as tight as they could bear. That was all they could do, and it would have to be enough. 

Taking a deep breath, they hauled their body out of the garden, leaning heavily on the structure for a moment to regain their balance. When they looked up to get their bearings, a man stood before them. 

~~

Some would describe what Dream of the Endless was currently doing as lurking, but he preferred to think of it as waiting, as biding his time. Sitting atop a domed roof in the midday sun, he waited. 

The city spread out beneath him hummed and bustled with life, he could feel the magic in the air. Baghdad was truly prosperous, a wonder among the cities of man. It didn’t seem quite real, which he supposed made sense. There was real magic here, a force that no other city on earth possessed. It was as if someone had cast the mirage of a city from the Dreaming onto the desert sand and let it grow and adapt to the world around it. A city straddling two worlds. 

Beneath his alabaster skin, red rage was simmering like lava beneath a volcano. An attempt had been made on his life, and the one responsible had escaped. For now. They had gotten in one good shot, the blade hidden in their bracer piercing deep into his chest, but ultimately missing anything vital. Besides, he was an Endless, it would take much more than a clever blade to dispatch him. 

Nevertheless, such an offense could not stand. His assailant had been gravely injured in the subsequent fight with the palace guards but had managed to flee. He followed the pull of their consciousness, the scent of the blood that dripped from their wound. They were getting closer. His hands curled into tense fists as he perched like an eagle, waiting to descend from above for the death blow. 

Anger mixed with arousal, his wounded pride roaring like a dying animal. No one had dared even think of attempting to assail him, steps away from the border of the Dreaming no less. And yet, this one would-be assassin had done all that and more. They had attempted to claim his life, to claim all function of his physical form. His pride couldn’t wait to return the favor- they were wounded, but they were also fast, deadly, clever. Had he been human, it would have been the end of him. They would be worth the time it took to break them. Morpheus forced himself to be strategic, to cool his rage. It had been quite a while since he had an interesting plaything. 

Fathomless eyes focused on a lone figure darting across the roof beneath him, their steps faltering against their will. He growled lowly to himself at the sight of his target. Dream slipped into the space between the wind and moved closer. He couldn’t see their face, only the beaked hood that hid their features, and blood-soaked robes beneath worn leather armor. They were on their last legs, but so determined to keep going. 

He scoffed as they drew closer- watching, waiting. They dove into one of the enclosed gardens, and after a breath, it was as if they had never been there. Dream had never seen a mere human vanish without a trace that quickly. He watched the rooftop intently, observed the guards frantically looking for their lost target. A disdainful chuckle shook his chest at their frustration- one guard even unleashed some of his ire on a stray fragment of wood, kicking it down to the street below. 

The guards slowly dispersed and headed back to their posts. He could tell they were nervous: how would they explain to their lord that they had lost track of his would-be killer? It didn’t matter to the Nightmare King, he’d blunt this little blade personally. Black hole eyes were focused on the enclosed garden where the Hidden One had taken shelter. He hoped they hadn’t succumbed to their wounds in the time it had taken the guards to give up- that would not suit his purposes at all. He waited, waited, hardly moving. Even the wind had stilled, holding its breath in anticipation. 

Then, movement. So they weren’t dead after all. He was almost relieved; it would be disappointing if they died in any manner other than by his hand. The faded red fabric hiding the garden fluttered before appearing to split itself in two. A hand reached up and out, tearing the fabric from where it was attached to the little wooden roof. 

Dream prowled closer, his robes and feet making not a single whisper as they slid across the sand-dusted rooftop. He heard pained grunts and groans as he drew closer, along with the shuffling and shifting of fabric and leaves. Any moment now…

Morpheus skittered backwards as the Hidden One tumbled out of the garden, holding onto the wooden frame like a lifeline. He held perfectly still, even as he committed their form to memory (it was much easier to take in the details when they weren’t stabbing him). Their face was still shadowed by their hood, but their build was lithe and lean, like a dancer, or a well-tempered sword. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the slight curve of their breasts beneath the leather chest piece. Would wonders never cease…

~~

Their eyes locked and the two stared at each other for a frozen, infinite moment, trying to make the opposite figure make sense:

Morpheus took in the armor, the weapons, the blood spatters that ranged from scattered ruby drops on their strong yet delicate face, to their side where their robes had almost been stained black from how much had soaked into the fabric. He took in the way they leaned against the garden: nails digging into the crevices of the wood, frustrated and resentful of their reliance on the structure. Even so, they held themselves with a dogged determination that, combined with the blood covering them, was making his stomach churn, and not unpleasantly. They looked like they had barely escaped clawing their way out of hell, and yet still challenged every demon to face them if they dared. 

The Hidden One’s eyes flickered over and around the figure before them, unable to remain focused on any part of him for longer than a blink. Now that they weren’t running for their life, they could properly take in his features: he was pale, practically the same shade of white their robes had been when freshly sewn. He held himself with all the authority of a king, back ramrod straight even as he stared them down with open disdain. His raven black hair fluttered gently despite there being no breeze to move it. They wondered how sweat was not leaking from every pore as a consequence of wearing deep black robes in the heat of the midday sun. He was the most hauntingly, dangerously beautiful person they had ever seen. 

After the second that seemed to last an eternity, primal survival instinct took over. Every muscle screamed in agony from the speed and force of drawing the dagger from their belt. Dream jumped back as they slashed at him with a desperate yell. They took another lunge and slashed at him again, the Endless easily evading it, his frown deepening. 

After the third cut at him, Morpheus’ form lit up with prideful anger. How dare this single tool of a secret organization attack him, the King of Dreams? He, who was older and had more power at his command than any of those humans could possibly fathom? 

Power flooded into his hands, ready to be unleashed with a thought. Dream hadn’t seen combat up close for literal eons, but survival was not something one forgot. The easy, casual cruelty that came with battle and warfare was not something that ever went away, only dormant. 

One arm blocked the Assassin’s next attack while the other hand snaked through their guard and firmly latched onto their throat. They choked and sputtered as he squeezed ever so slightly. The fire didn’t leave their eyes, but was quickly being replaced by fatigue and fear. The dagger slipped from their grasp and clattered to the stone at their feet. 

“You dare?” he growled, angered, and somewhat impressed at the bravery and tenacity of this little blade. Both hands scrabbled at Dream’s wrist, staring at him with terrified awe. He snarled and squeezed harder, hard enough to feel their erratic pulse beneath the pad of his thumb. He felt their struggles weaken before he saw their eyes roll back into their head. 

Once he sensed they were no longer conscious, he released his grip and let them crumple into a heap at his feet. He needed to get them back to the Dreaming; that wound would be fatal otherwise, and he wasn’t done with them just yet. A smile that would have frightened anyone who saw it spread across his face as he swept his cloak over their body, and the two vanished.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Greatest Gift

Summary: This Christmas might just change everything, but in the best way possible.

Oneshot

Fluff, Established Relationship au

Word Count: 2,328

Kihyun x Reader

Prompt: 12. Make your own prompt. - "You're the most beautiful gift I could have ever hoped for. A gift I want to keep forever. Will you allow me?" ------ I was thinking Christmas proposal/ engagement 🤭 ------ Gender neutral ------ With the one and only Yoo Kihyun 🤩 ------ Thank you and happy holidays! 

[A/n: I think I physically ascended when I first read this and pictured him saying it. And to whoever sent this ask, just know I love you and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season. This was absolutely self-indulgent for me. I hope it’s very indulgent for you too.]

------

It was finally Christmas morning, and you couldn't be more excited as you opened your eyes. When you were a kid, you’d wake up at six am sharp, rushing over to the Christmas tree, hurrying your parents down the stairs to open presents. While the excitement faded a bit over the years, you still were excited to spend the whole day with Kihyun. Who, for the past seven Christmases, made you feel the joy of the holiday again. 

You throw the blanket down, ready to run down, until you notice Kihyun isn't beside you, ready to push you out of the way as he runs to the tree, too. Your heart sinks, worrying that he left without you, before the door opens, and in pops Kihyun. 

You sigh, full of relief, as he enters, “Don't worry, I didn't start unwrapping without you.” You smile as he walks in with a tray full of breakfast foods. He carefully walks, not wanting to spill anything. You hold your hands out and grab the tray after moving his blanket back so he can crawl back underneath them. With him all settled, he says, “This is my first Christmas gift to you.” You smile as you thank him and kiss his cheek as you settle the tray down over your legs. And see that he prepared everything just like how you liked it. 

Which was different than any of the Christmases before, so you ask, “Did you grow up having breakfast on Christmas?” He shrugs, “It depended if my parents woke up before my brother and I.” You nod, “Ah, I always woke up before mine, so I guess that’s why we never had it.” He laughs, “I can see that. You're usually up before I am. I had to sneak out of here when you rolled over.” You laugh, and he smiles, “I love you.” You blush, “Ever since you wanted to say I love you more easily, you’ve certainly worked on it. But I love you too.” He smiles, and you lean your head on his shoulder after eating another bite of waffles. 

You reiterate to him, “I mean it, you know? Every day that I wake up, and you’re beside me. I’m so thankful.” He kisses the top of your head, “I’m so grateful that I get to fall asleep beside you. I wish we always got to, like those married couples on TV.” You nod, not thinking much of the fact he specified them being married. “Me too, but I guess that’s the beauty of it. Even when they’re apart, they’re together.” He hums, and you move your head off his shoulder to finish your meal. 

When you've both finished eating, he moves the tray, and you follow him down the stairs excitedly. When he asks, “Do you want to start the dinner with me first, and then we open presents?” You pout, “You’re no fun.” He laughs, “But you love me anyway.” You grin, “Yeah. Let’s make it!” Even though it was different, you shrugged it off and happily went with it. You both moved away from the living room and into the kitchen. 

You pull out your cookbook and find the correct settings for the ham. And set the oven as he pulls it out and places it into the sink you cleaned the night before. He takes off the wrapping while you prepare the pan. You hold the bag out for him to put it in before dunking it with a sugary drink and adding brown sugar and fruits to the top. As you smother it, you ask, “Isn’t it kind of sacrilegious for you to eat ham?” He blinks at you before he realizes what you meant and bumps you with his hip. “No, two different animals.” You giggle, “I know, plus you’re more of a shark.” He smirks, “You know just what to say.” You grin and wash off your hands before tying the bag. You hear the buzzer ring, open the door, and put it into the oven as Kihyun washes his hands.

He starts cutting up veggies for the two of you to eat while you watch a Christmas movie, and you pull out a smaller cutting board to work alongside him. You make a small veggie tray for the two of you to snack on. Before heading to the living room, “So, Mr. Let’smakedinnerfirst. When are we going to open our presents?” He looks at the time before looking back at you, “Later.” You tilt your head, “Why?” He shrugs, and you realize he must have a big surprise waiting under the tree for you, or he wouldn’t be hesitant to open presents. 

In fact, this is the first time in seven years. He’s waited to open presents. You want to say something to that fact, but you hold back. Whatever the reason was, it was a good one. And you didn’t want to ruin your surprise by pestering him because you knew he’d probably blurt it out due to his nerves. You let it go and eat your veggies while watching ‘Arthur Christmas,’ “You know, this is probably the most plausible Santa Claus movie.” He agrees, and you both watch as the little girl finally gets her present after the hundreds of trials and tribulations it took to get to her house. Santa finally made it. He says as the movie ends, “I think that was the best role for the older brother to fit.” You agree, “I think it was perfect how everyone ended up.” He nods, and you both get up from your cuddled position to start prepping other things to eat alongside the ham. 

As you’re peeling an orange, he looks at the packaging and watches as you eat a slice, “Shouldn’t you not be eating these?” You tilt your head at him, and he goes, “Because you’re a cutie.” You laugh and tap his shoulder, “Ki!” He grins, “I’m right, you know.” You gasp as he steals the rest of your peeled orange and eats it. And you exclaim, “Kihyun!” He laughs before handing you another orange to peel. You push it back into his hands and cross your arms, and he shakes his head as he peels it for you, “Happier?” You grin as you snatch it before offering him a piece, which he gladly takes. “Now, we’ve both had one full one. And yeah, I’m happier now.” He smiles, “Good.” 

To avoid having loads of dishes later, you start doing the dishes now. As you scrub one, you feel his arms slide around you before pulling you against him. He links his hands around you and says, “I love you. I hope you know how happy you make me.” You look back at him, “I love you too. And you make me very happy, too.” You put another dish on the rack to dry, and he unlinks his arms, grabs a cloth to dry, and puts the clean dishes away. As he puts away the plates, he starts singing one of your favorite love songs. You hum softly along until he encourages you to sing with him. He pulls you away from the soapy sink and holds your hands as he serenades you. He waits for you to sing your lines before he continues along. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve heard his singing voice. It still sends shivers down your spine. You grin as the two of you sing in harmony. 

As he finishes the song with butterflies running amuck in your stomach, he asks, “If you could be with me forever, would you?” You take a second to process his question before answering, “Of course I would. But I’ve already told you that.” He grins, “I know, but I just like hearing you say it.” You shake your head and smile at him. And he places a kiss on your forehead before you both finish up the current dirty dishes. The oven rings after you’ve finished and you put away your cookbook. Kihyun pulls the ham out of the oven and opens the bag while you turn the stove on. 

And in no time, you’re eating Christmas dinner in front of the TV. Usually, you’d eat at the dining table, but because of the holiday and all the specials playing, you just had to eat in the living room. You both could clean up later if it gets dirty anyway. You watch ‘A Year Without A Santa Claus’ as you eat and giggle at the Miser Brothers' scenes, but find yourself sniffling at the “I believe in Santa Claus” song, and you turn to see Kihyun do the same thing. And you nuzzle closer to him, wary not to tip your plate. You finish your plate as the movie ends, and you both head back to the kitchen to clean up and throw trash away. It takes a while before you’re done and your hands are clean again. You head back to the living room, finding you both still have to open presents. You look over at Kihyun with pleading eyes and a pout, and he nods. 

“Can I put it on tape?” You blink at him, “Tape?” He shakes his head, “I meant- I mean, film it on my camera?” You shrug, “Yeah, it’ll be nice to look back on next Christmas.” He smiles, “Maybe even more than that.” You grin and agree. He sets up his phone to film you both opening your presents. You drag your present piles over to the couch in front of his phone, and you do your best to ignore the camera as Kihyun does so effortlessly. You shake off any nerves before diving right into your pile while he does the same. You received a gift from each of your friends and a few from Kihyun. You open your friends' gifts first and appreciate each gift before ripping open the next package. 

The pile of paper around you two becomes bigger and bigger as you open more and more presents. You look over to see Kihyun starting to open one of your presents. You smile as he opens the dark blue sweater you got him. He looks over at you as he puts it to his chest, “You got me the perfect shade of blue.” He winks at you as he takes his current sweater off before ripping off the price tag from the label and putting it on. He waits for you to open one of his, and you smile as you rip it open. And out falls a (f/c) cardigan, “I know you love wearing mine a lot, but I thought you should have one that went with more of your outfits.” You follow suit, ripping the tag off, and grin as you slip it over your long sleeve, “I love it.” You open your last two gifts from him and show him happily, and he shows you his.

You're looking through your pile to ensure you didn't miss anything. When Kihyun clears his throat, you don’t think much of it but still look over at him to watch him slip off the couch onto his knee. You ask, “You want help cleaning up?” Thinking that’s why he was getting off the couch and onto the floor. He shakes his head before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box with a tiny bow on top of it. You whisper, “No way,” as you realize what he’s doing. You quickly move to sit properly and move all the wrapping paper and gifts off your lap. To truly perceive what’s going on. Now you know why he wants to film it other than his regular filming and photographing habits. He smiles as he watches you. When you finish, he’s moved a few things blocking his view. 

He opens the box and reveals a darling ring with your favorite stone in the middle. But what causes you to start crying is when he says, “You're the most beautiful gift I could have ever hoped for. A gift I want to keep forever. Will you allow me?” You move the sleeve of your new cardigan down over your right hand to wipe your eyes before answering, “Of course.” He slips the ring over your left finger as you continue your answer, “You’re the greatest gift I could have hoped for. When I said earlier, I would be with you forever if I could. I meant it. I love you so much. I won’t just allow you to. I want you to. And I want to be with you forever.” He smiles, and you grin as you get on the floor in front of him and pull him into your arms.

When you've gained some composure, you ask, “Is this why you wanted to wait to open presents?” He nods, “I wanted it to be perfect.” You shake your head, “Even if it was a messy proposal. As long as it was from you, it’d always be perfect.” He holds you tighter, and you feel tears hitting, dampening your layers of clothes. You move your head away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, “I knew five months into dating you I wanted to marry you.” He sniffles as you wipe his tears. And he reaches up to do the same. You can’t help but grin at him, “I love you. Oh, how I love you.” He tells you proudly, “I love you with my whole heart.” before cupping your cheeks and bringing you into a passionate-filled kiss. 

When you are both back on the couch, you ask another question, “And is that why you wanted to film it so badly?” He nods, “Yeah, I wanted us to keep this moment forever.” You smile as you kiss his nose, “Me too. I'm glad you did. We should play it at our wedding.” He grins, “That's exactly what I was thinking.”

[lovingmusicalmen]

I had an idea for a Davey x reader (could interpret as either livesies or UKsies Davey) with the prompt "Wh- so you did remember my birthday!" || "Of course I did. How could I ever forget?"

maybe where they are a classmate of his (could already be in a relationship or platonic whatever you want to do) from before he had to drop out of school to be a newsie, and they surprise him at the lodging house for his birthday and Davey introduces them to the boys?

I love your writing so much keep up the amazing work🤩

omg I need more davey fics in my life I can't lie - I loveeee him

Fluff 21: "Wh- so you did remember my birthday!" || "Of course I did. How could I ever forget?"

Blurb requests still open!

Y/N had to admit, it was more than a little terrifying to walk into the lodging house known for homing the newsboys of Manhatten to be immediately scrutinised by the eyes of multiple teenage boys.

Y/N shifted awkwardly from foot-to-foot, holding the wrapped package in front of her. She caught the eye of a couple of newspaper girls standing at the back of the room, chatting.

"Hey - you looking for someone?" Asked a girl, walking over with a smile, her boots causing her footsteps to sound loud even in the crowded room.

"Uh - David? David Jacobs? He said I'd be able to find him here?" Y/N said awkwardly.

"Oh my god! You're Davey's girl!" Another, shorter, girl exclaimed, bounding over excitedly.

"Davey's girl? She's here?" A boy sitting nearby asked. His blond hair was covered with a newsboy hat, a cigar hanging from his lips and he was holding a hand of cards playing poker with a couple of the other guys, all of whom perked up at his loud voice.

"No chance that's Davey's girl!" A boy with bright red hair denied, shaking his head with a scoff.

"Hey - Romeo, didn't you try and sell her a pape yesterday?" Another one of the boys playing poker questioned, nudging a smaller boy, who was laying on the ground, looking as though he was caught up in some kind of daydream.

"Is there a girl in New York who hasn't been rejected by Romeo?" Drily questioned a boy in glasses, earning laughter from the congregated boys.

"I take it this is the right place?" Y/N asked a little awkwardly.

"Yeah - he, Les and Jack just went upstairs to split their earnings," a blond boy said, shooting her a sweet smile. "Jojo will go let them know you're here - but you're welcome to join us in the meantime."

"Oh, I'll go get them, will I?" The boy next to him questioned, rolling his eyes.

The first boy shot Y/N another charming smile, before picking up a crutch from beside him that Y/N hadn't noticed before, and using it to strike Jojo across the knees.

The newsie let out a yelp of pain and jumped to his feet, glaring at his friend, who just gave an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

"The hell's going on here?"

"Y/N!"

Relief washed over her at the familiar voice coming from the top of their stairs.

"Hey, Dave," she said with a smile.

Her boyfriend pushed past his brother and friend who stood on their steps, rushing over to wrap her in a hug.

"What're you doing here?" David asked.

"Well - happy birthday," she said, pulling out of the embrace to hand over his gift. "And I also wanted to meet your friends," she added in a quieter, more embarrassed tone.

"How's that worked out for you?" David teased, sharing a knowing grin with her. He ducked down to press a kiss to her lips, raising a cheerful 'whoop' from the boys surrounding them. When they pulled away, Y/N buried her face into Davids chest. "But you - so you did remember my birthday?"

"Of course I did. How could I ever forget just because you weren't in school," Y/N said with a laugh.

Davey ducked down to kiss her again, earning yet more jeers.

"I love you," he whispered. "And that's why I'm going to say that we should go get dinner somewhere away from my friends."

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Out Patients 2000 Future Jazz / Broken Beat / Drum n Bass

Checked out this sweet turn-of-the-millennium electronic comp over the past couple days called Out Patients, the first installment in a three-volume series that was put out on UK label Hospital Records. Originally launched in 1996, Hospital was founded by London Elektricity, a duo who, sometime in the early 2000s, decided to downsize to just one member, Tony Colman, so the former member, Chris Goss, could devote more time and energy to running Hospital himself.

Now, if you know anything about either Hospital or LE beyond what I've just told you, then you know that what they're both primarily known for is their drum n bass output. In fact, in their first four years of existence, that's all Hospital pretty much ever released. However, in 2000, with the launching of this little, cleverly titled Out Patients series—songs that largely laid outside of Hospital's own sonic radius—they decided to venture a little out of their comfort zone.

So, ultimately, what we have here are a bunch of groovy electronic lounge-type vibes that largely come in the form of future jazz and broken beat—a pair of oft-intertwined electronic genres that were both surging at around the same exact time. Broken beat was this wonderful, broadly-defined music that saw fundamentals of drum n bass taken to a sharper, more complicated and unorthodox abstraction, and its rhythms would be integrated into future jazz, a type of jazz-infused electronic music that succeeds the late 80s-to-mid-90s UK phenomenon of acid jazz, and hearkens back to the halcyon days of free-flowing jazz fusion from the 70s and 80s too; also known as nu jazz.

And even though this is just an exclusive dozen tracks from a label that'd never really put out this type of material before, Hospital was still able to get a few notable names to contribute to this release here: veteran Uschi Classen, who in addition to her own solo material, had also been in a bunch of groups, like Ashley Beedle's Black Science Orchestra and the Ballistic Brothers; dnb trio Aquasky; and Mr. Scruff, whose biggest claim to fame is this very popular electro swing tune—one of the only decent ones that's ever been made—and if you're an American of a certain age, you might remember it from an old ad campaign for Lincoln's full lineup of vehicles too.

Here's one of those ads with Michael Clarke Duncan!

But, to me, the best song on this release has to be "Action," by Japan's Yukihiro Fukutomi. Fukutomi himself was his own entity too by the time this song had been included on this very comp, but the vast majority of his music had only ever been released in Japan; so when he appeared on Out Patients, it was likely the first time that many people outside of Japan had ever heard him before. And those people were probably fuckin' dazzled, because the combination of constantly shifting broken beat drum rhythm and Fukutomi's whiny old school keyboard improv here is simply diabolical 😈. Get lost in this super craggy shit!

And something that also needs pointing out here is that even though most of this comp isn't drum n bass, there are still a couple dnb tunes on here anyway. And as someone who really loves it when people just *straight-up rap* over drum n bass beats, I can't leave this post without mentioning MC Mello and London Elektricity's bouncy "Melloizdaman." This is just such a cool and fun tune, overall, and I especially love how LE add this warm coat of ambient synth to their double bass-infused beat after the first verse. Usually rappers need to rap over steady beats in order to maintain their own timing and flow, and while LE don't mess with the rhythm itself here, they're still able to enhance their tune further with this added synth in order to keep it sounding fresh. Really great stuff 🤩.

So a pretty dope set of early 2000s tunes from Hospital Records here. Mostly not the kind of electronic music that they're typically known for releasing, but they included some nice, previously unheard tracks on this album nonetheless 👍.

And if you want the type of stuff that Hospital *is* known for, check out this post I did a few months ago on Plastic Surgery 2, a double-disc comp and DJ mix that featured them on the 2-step liquid funk trend, a more mass-appealing strain of drum n bass that grew to be very popular in the UK in the mid-to-late 2000s that they themselves were on the forefront of.

Highlights:

Liane Carroll - "The Trap" Uschi Classen - "Tocatta (The Indigo Blue Mix)" Aquasky - "Another Day" Skitz + Julie Dexter - "Be...." Landslide - "Golden Cavalier" London Elektricity - "Incurable" Space Clique - "Exit #1: Luna Park" MC Mello vs. London Elektricity - "Melloizdaman" Yukihiro Fukutomi - "Action" Marcus Intalex & S.T. Files - "Taking Over Me"