#what is legends. like deep down what is it whats going on there

[acatthatmakeseclairs]

Arcane Season 2 Necrit Interview Transcript + my ramblings

Hello! I thought I’d share the transcript for the Necrit & Christian Linke Interview on tumblr because it flopped on reddit lol (you can find the transcript at the very end of this post (ⓛ ω ⓛ*) )

Some notes to consider before going through the transcript and the rest of this post:

The transcript is of the YouTube video ver. of the interview, I’m crazy, but I’m not so crazy that I’m going to attempt to transcribe a 4 hour VOD.

The transcript is images for now, because I would not be able to fit a 2+ hour interview in a 40k character limit (the interview is like 60k+ characters, 50k+ without spaces)

I’ve added timestamps so you guys can easily reference a question or response from the video directly; I’ve also highlighted certain sections of the interview that I thought were interesting :)

For the discussion section, I’ll be referencing this post, because… let’s just say it was quite incorrect in some sections or there were points that I thought would be cool to talk about.

I’ve tried to be as objective and accurate as I could when getting into the details of this interview, hence why I’ve referenced other interviews and production materials, like concept art, but again, I am human, and I can get things incorrect or I can off as a bit biased– but alas o(*￣▽￣*)o

Anyways, onto the discussion!

Noxus, Ionia and Demacia are getting shows and are next steps into this cinematic universe; they pick each setting to explore [different] sides of [Runeterra].

They are not each getting shows… the team working on this new project, has only, casually, announced one new project.

They are one year into production for one show- the fact that Christian Linke mentioned Noxus, Ionia and Demacia, implies that this new series has a story that is centred around all three nations, not unlike how Arcane’s conflict centered around 3 different nation states: Piltover, Zaun and Noxus, with Noxus being positioned as an overall antagonistic force.

I’m not too familiar with the timeline of League of Legends, but I’ve heard here and there that Swain, a much-teased character in Arcane’s finale, had made his deal with Raum after the Invasion of Ionia, and seeing as he’s made his little cameo after Viktor’s failed ‘Glorious Evolution’, this could imply that we won’t see Ionia in any direct capacity.

Ok, this part is purely wishful thinking, but I think that our main setting for the next installment of this greater story is Demacia.

Noxus is positioned as an antagonist, it would be kind of underwhelming to go right into the motivations and deep mysteries of your central antagonist.

Linke stated that the team starts with ‘character stories’ (01:46:31) before anything else, as well as saying that they like ‘seeing Champions [meeting & interacting]’ (00:03:22) and my brain likes to make connections where there might not be any but what if Jinx was heading towards Demacia, and becomes friends with Lux? Again, total reach, but it’s a fan-favourite duo and it would be a good continuation of Jinx’s story (if they do continue her story that is).

They [considered] Blitzcrank for Season 2.

Christian Linke suggested Blitzcrank to be involved in the story in some way, but the rest of the team shot the idea down, with Linke describing it as ‘silly’ (00:05:31); it was probably a small joke or gag, considering how Linke described it.  

[Heimerdinger] is not dead and other characters might [come] back to life.

Christian Linke did not outright confirm or deny Heimerdinger’s death nor the existence of Bandle City in the Arcane universe, all he said was “I’m not done with Heimerdinger.” (00:07:22) You also have to consider that this guy is a Heimerdinger main, and he’s only one person amongst many who is charge of the direction of Arcane, and it’s related properties. Can’t say I’m not hopeful of Heimerdinger coming back, I love that little guy so much.

As for the other characters? Again, no direct confirmation on Jinx (00:31:45), especially in the last Netflix Afterglow Interview, but Viktor and Jayce … I’ll get into it further.  

Swain is teased to [be] looking into [the history of the Arcane] and [the origins of demons].

I can’t say I fully disagree with this point, but not because of Christian Linke’s comments in this interview (00:19:28). Throughout this second season, Ambessa continues to try to recreate Hex-tech, where, yes, she’s doing it for her own self-serving desires, but who told her to go to Piltover in the first place? In my opinion, it might have been Swain, seeing as his raven is seen poking around looking for the Hex-gem in Jayce’s, now destroyed, hammer.

I should also add that in relation to the overall timeline of Arcane, and it soon to be related properties, is that the current events within Arcane, so let’s say Arcane’s conclusion, the Invasion of Ionia has concluded, as if you can remember, the woman that Ambessa killed in Mel’s backstory is an Ionian princess, check out these bits of concept art from the Fortiche artists (Link 1) & (Link 2).

[Pianist] is teased to be Jhin.

Go to (00:23:10) in the video linked, he did not make a connection between this side character and Jhin, also are we just forgetting that Jhin is Ionian? And he would be much older than this side character??

Ziggs was not [inspiration] for Isha.

I thought I’d add to this point about the inspiration behind Isha: Isha is described as a child of Zaun, with Linke commenting that her hat is a miner hat, which is an allusion to Zaun’s early mining industry (00:24:47). We can see in Act 1, that although she is a child, Isha is very invested in the independence and freedom of Zaun, seeing as she poses as Jinx in what is possibly various rallies in the Undercity. I’d like to think she’s Zaun’s hope :) (let’s not think about what her death implies for Zaun…)

Renata will [replace the Chem-barons] in future.

Again, no confirmation. This discussion (00:27:19), was just that- a discussion of the future of Piltover and Zaun. Based on the production timelines, we may not actually see newer Champions like Renata, because they are released during production; I think we might get a mention of her in the next series, though.

Viktor will be explored on later shows confirmed- he is more than just human or Arcane user now; he is something special.

The status of Viktor and Jayce was confirmed to be dead (ಥ_ಥ) by Christian Linke in the recent Netflix Afterglow interview for Season 2 Act 3- HOWEVER, he described Viktor and Jayce to be “disintegrated” (1:33 – Netflix Interview) which is not what happened on screen. Instead, what is show to us in the show that Viktor and Jayce are sucked into the acceleration rune.

(“They’re alive- they’re stuck in time purgatory!” I say as they drag me into the asylum)

It should also be mentioned that the team, or at least Christian Linke, are interested in exploring what Viktor has become by the end of Arcane (01:20:05), and potentially the fates of Viktor and Jayce post-Arcane– again this does not imply that we will see either of them in the story in any direct capacity.

As for what Viktor is? Throughout this interview, he’s described as a symbiosis between the technological and organic– this does not mean he’s ‘cured’ of his disease and he’s not still disabled!

Throughout season 2 act 2, we see Viktor continue to use his staff to support himself, and Jinx also comments on his appearance, saying that he ‘looks like he’s got a couple [of conditions]’ (hahaha)- lets also not forget that in his Machine Herald form, his leg and back brace are fused into his body. (Interesting how something similar happened to Mel when she unlocked her empath powers, her golden accessories fused into her body- what’s up with that Fortiche?)

Personally, based on what Linke said “… what's different about Viktor is the Hexcore … [the runes] used [in] the Hexcore [are] a different thing, [they’re] much more powerful …” (00:31:01), and of course what we see in the show, I think that Viktor’s body is directly connected to the Hex-core, which creates transmutations within Viktor’s body, keeping him ‘alive’ but he also becomes a mage.

In the world of Arcane/LoL, you can become a mage by either being born as one, or praying to an Aspect or a God. However, Viktor (with the unintentional help of Jayce) became a mage due to the Hex-corisation of his body and soul- but his magic is different from other mages. A lot of the patterns that appear on Mel’s force-fields are very clean, neat, like the runes we see drawn on the various Hex-tech devices, but whenever post-Glorious Evolution Viktor casts a spell, we see this white-glowing webbed orb appear, similar to Ekko’s Z-drive. Not sure what this means, but I thought I’d share my ramblings :)

Other champions from Zaun and Piltover will be brought up to Arcane timeline.

This point was briefly mentioned (00:31:55 - 00:32:15), but even I wasn’t sure about how to interpret this. I think it might refer to the character re-works in League of Legends, but so far they’ve only reworked characters actually featured in Arcane; I’m guessing future reworks for more characters are being discussed amongst the creatives at RIOT, but we have to wait for the upcoming series to see what’ll happen.

Urgot is coming later.

… Again, no direct confirmation, Linke said “Not yet … he wasn't part of the story. I do think Urgot is really interesting …” (00:33:03). Urgot is a character based in the Zaun/Piltover story, so seeing him in the sequel series is unlikely.

Viktor and Jayce are confirmed to be bromance- like very good friends who die for each other any given time.

Look, I’m biased as fuck when it comes to these two, but Christian Linke did say “… I think it’s not romantic.” Again, like with many things in this interview, this is his opinion.

Whilst he may be the co-creator behind Arcane, his opinion was only relevant to his contributions regarding their narrative, just like how the voice actors (for both Arcane and LoL!), the many animators, and writers at RIOT had their own important contributions and interpretations on the relationship between Jayce and Viktor.

From the stuff we’ve seen this past month from the cast and crew, with Toks Olagundoye reposting Jayvik fanart, Harry Llyod reading Jayvik fanfics, and Kevin Alejandro signing not one, but 2 Jayvik fanarts, as well as of course the many Jayvik artworks from the team over at Fortiche; it seems that quite a lot of the team have quite a differing opinion from Christian Linke, almost as if he’s missing something lol.

I’ll finish up this section with a comment from Amanda Overton, because it the best response to how their relationship is interpreted and the description of their relationship:

"Fans are always justified in reading things the way they want to because that’s part of making art. When you do a thing for it based on you, it doesn’t actually have meaning until other people give it their own meaning. My backstory is very different from your backstory and my experiences are very different from yours so I can only speak from my experience. When I put a thing that I’ve written out in the world, then everyone brings their own different experiences to it."

"We were writing them as a loving, brotherly relationship that unambiguously [had] love between them. When it got to that final moment, it was so romantic and beautiful to me when I saw it for the first time—the way Fortiche put it together—I was like, “Oh, well maybe there is hope [for] these guys to have some future beyond what the show intended.” That was really cool for me to see. If people want to imagine that, I think they can, and that’s wonderful. Now that the show is over, if there’s the potential for that out there, then that’s potential that our fans can realize for themselves."

House of Medarda will play part in future of [Runeterra].

Yep! Christian Linke alludes to this in (01:11:37). Mel, or perhaps an older Mel, will appear alongside Noxian characters like Swain and Darius in the future series. It will be interesting to see the political dynamics between these characters as Mel is not only a Medarda and a Mage, but someone intimately connected with the Black Rose (◉_◉).

Glorious Evolution robots are inspired by biblical angels without wings.

Linke said this when it came to the design of Viktor’s Glorious Evolution robots (01:15:10):

“We actually talked … about how we want to have something that depicts, in quotation marks, ‘angels’; something angelic and pure, but then also [that] has … slightly lost some of the expression and … humanity, in a way that's a bit eerie. That's what Viktor's vision [was], but it will deteriorate [one day].”

The religious imagery regarding Viktor was unintentional, the intention behind Viktor was more centred around depicting him as a Messiah– “… We never wanted to have this direct link to any specific religion, it's just this idea of some Messiah or someone that people [wanted] to follow … [it] doesn't have to be religious but, of course, there is a certain connotation. The beauty of religious art … [it’s] just absolutely beautiful stuff and the supernatural depictions of it … [is] very inspiring.” (01:19:14)

There are selected few who [organize] and keep lore in check.

This is not true! Or at least this has not been outright confirmed in this interview; the question at (01:24:24) was not fully answered by Linke in this interview.

I also want to add a though of my own regarding this quote from Linke, “I would say it's 70% us and 30% Fortiche having ideas and then we talk about it, and I agree.” (00:15:12). This attitude that all these ideas came mostly from the writing team seems a bit ‘egotistical’ as Viktor would say- there was a significant gap in communication between the writing team and the team at Fortiche when it came to the world-building, lore, and plot that was shown on screen (you can see this is the attached screenshots of Amanda Overton’s tweets).

(Let’s also not forget that team at Fortiche indicated that the woman that Ambessa killed in Mel’s flashback is an Ionian princess, implying that the invasion of Ionia occurred prior to the events of Arcane; Fortiche animators were also the ones to propose the CaitVi sesbian lex scene; let’s not even get to Amanda Overton’s comments regarding how the Fortiche team implied the romantic relationship between Jayce and Viktor like, the Fortiche team is doing a lot of heavy lifting lol)

At the end of the day, the story we see as the audience is in filmic form, which is a primarily visual medium, so any bits of lore or story is based on what the storyboarding, voice over, animation, and post-production teams want us to see and take away from it.

(Edit: sorry! I completely forgot to actually put the images of the transcript!)

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 - chapter five fernando alonso x fem! driver! reader ( angst/fluff ) series summary . . . a mortal who dared to defy the impossible. Of grit forged in fire, and dreams that refused to yield. In a world where heroes are born, and few rise to become legends. You are a force to be reckoned with. Unshakable. Unstoppable. Indomitable. (4.2k words)

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V - A SIGN OF THE TIMES . . . ( Your fourth to ninth year in Formula One, 2021 ) //content warning . . . ( Yn is 28 years old throughout this chapter, nice and not too short )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The offseason had been a whirlwind of commitments—sponsor shoots, factory visits, and endless planning for the new season. But tonight? Tonight was a rare reprieve. A glittering gala in Monaco, far removed from the roar of engines and the intensity of racing.

You weren’t planning on going, but Max had insisted. “It’s good to get out of the garage sometimes,” he’d teased, all smug grins and knowing eyes.

You arrived in a sleek dress, a small glass of champagne in hand as you scanned the crowd. Familiar faces dotted the room—drivers, team principals, celebrities—but your focus lingered on none of them.

Until you saw him.

Fernando Alonso.

He was leaning casually against a bar, deep in conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. His suit was sharp, his smile sharper, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like time stuttered. He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening into something warm and fond.

“Yn,” he greeted when you approached, his voice low and familiar, laced with the hint of a smile.

“Fernando,” you replied, the edges of your mouth twitching up involuntarily. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. “I heard you had a busy offseason.”

You laughed lightly, swirling the champagne in your glass. “Busy is an understatement. And you? I thought you were enjoying retirement.”

“Retirement is overrated,” he said with a wink.

The conversation flowed easily, laughter bubbling between you like champagne in flutes. The rest of the room faded away, the crowd a blur as you stood there with Fernando, trading stories and smiles like no time had passed.

And when the night wound down, and the party began to thin out, he walked you to the exit.

“I missed this,” he admitted quietly, his hands tucked into his pockets as you stood by the door.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, the confession settling between you like a warm blanket.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mid-season was relentless. Back-to-back races, endless travel, and the unavoidable carousel of press conferences. You’d grown used to the chaos, but today’s media session took an unexpected turn.

Sitting alongside Max and Carlos after a thrilling race, you were still riding the high when one of the journalists leaned into the microphone with a pointed expression.

“Yn, with everything you’ve achieved, don’t you think it’s time to step back? You’re not getting any younger, and surely, you’ve thought about settling down and starting a family.”

The room went still, the air thick with disbelief.

Max’s head snapped toward the journalist, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of question is that?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

Carlos chimed in, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with a hard edge. “Would you ask a male driver that? She’s at the top of her game.”

You sat back in your chair, forcing a neutral expression as the other drivers rallied on your behalf. The journalist stumbled over a half-hearted apology, but you didn’t hear it. The question had planted itself firmly in your mind, burrowing deep.

Later that evening, you were curled up in bed with Fernando, his arm draped over your waist as his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your hair. The room was quiet, save for the occasional sound of the city outside, but your thoughts were far from peaceful.

He noticed almost immediately, his movements slowing as his gaze dropped to your face. “What’s wrong, Hermosa?” he asked softly, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “Do you think. . . it’s selfish of me to keep racing? If I want kids someday?”

His fingers paused, his brows furrowing slightly before his expression softened. “You’re asking this now?” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “When I haven’t even chosen a ring yet?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m saying I want to marry you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shifted to sit up slightly. “Fernando, I just brought up having kids, and your response is to tell me you want to marry me? Most men would run a mile.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting into an easy smile. “I’m not most men.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as a mix of emotions surged through you. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the warmth creeping into your voice betrayed you.

“And yet, you love me,” he said smugly, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you securely.

You couldn’t help but laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You’re lucky you’re charming.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Just one request,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “When we have kids, I want a girl. A little mini Yn Alonso.”

Your laughter softened into a smile, tears prickling at your eyes as the weight of the day started to lift. “You’re something else, Fernando,” you whispered.

“Only for you,” he replied, his hand gently stroking your hair once more as he held you close.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment you decided, Max was the first person you told.

You found him in his driver’s room, seated on the edge of the couch with his phone in hand. The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the room, but the second he looked up and met your gaze, the quiet peace shattered. Concern flickered across his face, and he set his phone aside, sitting up straighter.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone instantly serious.

You closed the door behind you, your fingers lingering on the handle for a moment longer than necessary before turning to face him. “Max,” you started, your voice betraying the steady front you’d tried to put on, “I’ve made a decision.”

His brows knitted together, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What decision?”

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands in front of you, bracing yourself. “I’m retiring… at the end of the season.”

The silence was immediate, heavy. Max stared at you, his expression frozen in disbelief, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came. Slowly, he stood, his movements stiff, his eyes narrowing as if he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“No,” he finally said, his voice firm but quiet, almost like he was testing the word.

“Max, I—”

“No!” he said again, louder this time, his voice cracking as he cut you off. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away from you briefly before spinning back around, his frustration and desperation palpable. “You can’t. You can’t leave me! You’re my teammate, my partner. You’re—you’re the only person I trust out there!”

“Max—”

“Who’s going to be there for me, huh?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Who’s going to call me out when I’m being an idiot? Or sit with me when I screw up and remind me I’m not as terrible as I feel? Who’s going to keep me sane through all of this?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“Please,” he said, his voice softer now but trembling. He stepped closer, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Please don’t go. I need you here. I—I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached out instinctively, but Max moved faster. He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping yours tightly, his forehead resting against your knuckles.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please. I’m begging you.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sank to your knees with him, cupping his face in your hands. His tears spilled over now, streaking his cheeks, and the sight of him like this—so raw, so vulnerable—shattered any composure you had left.

“Max,” you choked out, brushing your thumbs across his damp skin. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could stay, but… I have to go. It’s time.”

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It’s not time. It’ll never be time. Not for me.”

His words lodged like a knife in your chest. You pulled him into a hug, holding him as tightly as you could, and he clung to you, burying his face in your shoulder. His whole body trembled, and you stroked his back gently, trying to soothe him even though you felt just as broken.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled against you.

“You’re not losing me,” you promised, though the words felt hollow. “You’ll always have me, Max. Always.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face red and tear-streaked, his lips trembling. “You’re my family, Yn. You’re everything.”

Your own tears fell harder at that, and you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “And you’re mine, Max. I’ll always be here for you, even if I’m not on the grid.”

He nodded slightly, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. For a long moment, neither of you moved, clinging to each other as the weight of your decision settled around you both. And for the first time since you’d made it, you felt like it might break you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had always been easy with Max. Ever since 2019, when your little tradition of making dinner together began, it became your thing. Even during COVID, when the world slowed to a crawl, the two of you didn’t skip a beat, rooming together for months and keeping each other sane.

Tonight felt no different—except, maybe it was.

You were in Max’s kitchen, chopping vegetables and humming along to the music playing softly in the background. Max was sim racing in the next room, the sound of his engine roaring blending seamlessly with the ambiance.

“Yn! Are we having anything fried, or can I push this setup another five laps?” he yelled over the noise.

“Do I look like a deep fryer to you?” you shot back, laughing. “Keep driving. Dinner’s not ready yet.”

The smell of garlic and spices filled the air as you stirred the sauce, completely in your zone. You didn’t hear Max come in—he always moved quietly when he wanted to—but you felt him when his arms slid around your waist.

“Max,” you said with a chuckle, trying to keep your focus on the stove, “your race didn’t seem that long.”

He didn’t reply, instead taking your left hand in his, lifting it into view. His thumb brushed over the diamond ring sitting snugly on your finger.

“He got you a ring.” His voice was quiet, measured, like he wasn’t sure how to feel.

You glanced at him, surprised he’d noticed. “He did,” you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, but. . . I guess I forgot to tell you.”

Max nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes stayed on the ring. “It’s very pretty.”

You tilted your head, trying to read his expression, but before you could, he hugged you—tight, burying his face into your shoulder.

“You’re being very mature,” you said softly, your free hand rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I don’t feel mature,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

His words tugged at your heart, and you stroked his hair gently, holding him close. Max always wore his heart a little too openly around you, and you knew what this meant to him. What you meant to him.

“Will you still come make me dinner sometimes . . . after you’re married to Fernando?” he asked, his voice so quiet it almost broke you.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, offering him a warm smile. “How about you come eat dinner with us instead?” you suggested with a chuckle. “Bring the cats, alright?”

Max blinked, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the sadness in his eyes. “Of course. But only if you wash the dishes.”

“Deal,” you said, ruffling his hair.

He laughed softly, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief moment. “Deal.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat in a quiet corner of the Red Bull HQ media room, a simple camera setup before you and a small team standing by to guide the process. The room was modest, nothing extravagant—just enough for what you had to say. Max was there too, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching silently. His presence was grounding, even as a knot twisted in your stomach.

“Alright, Yn,” one of the media team members said, adjusting the camera. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly before facing the lens. The words you’d rehearsed with the team swirled in your head, but now, they felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“Hi, everyone,” you began, your voice steady but soft. “I’ve been thinking about how to say this for a while now, and honestly, it’s not easy. Formula 1 has been my life for so many years. It’s where I’ve grown, where I’ve made some of the best memories of my life, and where I’ve met people who mean the world to me.”

You paused, glancing to the side where Max gave you a small nod of encouragement.

“But,” you continued, “as much as I love this sport, life is about seasons, and I’m entering a new one. A little while ago, I got engaged.” You lifted your left hand slightly, the modest yet elegant ring catching the light.

The media team murmured quietly, already knowing the news but still moved by the way you delivered it. Max’s expression remained neutral, though his fingers tapped idly against his arm, betraying his restlessness.

“This next chapter in my life is about settling down, starting a family, and embracing something I’ve always wanted but never had the time for,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, and as much as it hurts, I’ve decided that this will be my final season in Formula 1.”

Your breath hitched, but you pushed through. “I’m not getting any younger, and to give this new chapter my full attention, I need to step back from the sport I love so much.”

The room was silent except for the hum of the camera. You swallowed hard, forcing a small smile as you looked back at the lens. “I can’t thank all of you enough—my team, my fans, my family—for supporting me through this journey. It’s been an honor to race alongside some of the best drivers in the world. I’ll cherish these memories forever, and I’ll give everything I have for the rest of this season.”

The team signaled for a cut, and the camera stopped rolling. You let out a shaky breath, leaning back in the chair as the tension began to drain.

“That was perfect, Yn,” one of the media members said, patting your shoulder.

You managed a smile, but your gaze drifted to Max, who was still standing against the wall. His jaw was tight, and his eyes held an unmistakable sadness. When the others turned away to review the footage, he walked over, crouching slightly to meet your eyes.

Max took your hand again, his gaze fixating on the ring. “You know I would’ve bought you a bigger one, right?” he said casually, though his tone was laced with a playful hint.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “I don’t care about rings, Max. I didn’t even want one in the first place,” you replied, laughing lightly.

Max raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “But he insisted, didn’t he? Silly Fernando.”

You sighed dramatically, chuckling. “He did insist. I told him to pick one that wasn’t too flashy. I wanted emerald, something cheaper, but he said a diamond was better.”

Max gave a knowing nod. “Good call. I’ll get you all the emerald rings in the world, then.”

Before you could respond, Max attempted to tug the ring off your finger, grinning mischievously. You swatted his hand away, laughing at his antics.

“Well, if you didn’t want a ring,” Max continued, his eyes glinting with curiosity, “what would you want instead?”

You thought for a moment, tapping your chin in mock deliberation. “A cat . . . actually, two cats,” you said, a smirk appearing on your face as you held up two fingers.

Max nodded in approval, his expression softening. “Alright, two baby Bengals. Done.”

He turned to walk away, but you quickly snatched his cap from his head, holding it out of reach. “Nope,” you said with a playful grin. “I’d rather you help me with wedding planning.”

Max shot you an exaggerated glare over his shoulder. “Wedding planning? I didn’t sign up for that.” But you could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Can we make it cat-themed?”

“No.”

“How about red bull themed?”

“Absolutly not. When pigs fly.”

Max then proceeded to find a way to make pigs fly.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The final race of the season was chaotic in every sense of the word. Max and Lewis were neck-and-neck for the championship, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher. As you stepped into the paddock that Thursday, the weight of it all pressed down on you. The media swarmed like bees, their questions circling either Max and Lewis’s title fight or your impending retirement. Every interview, every camera flash, every glance seemed to carry an electric charge.

By the time your duties were over, you were drained, expecting nothing more than a quiet escape back to the hotel and to probably sneak fernando in your room as well. Instead, your PR team intercepted you just as you were heading out.

“Come with us,” one of them said, their tone suspiciously cheerful.

“What’s going on?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Just trust us,” they replied with a sly smile, steering you toward the track.

The moment you stepped onto the asphalt, your breath hitched. Gathered at the starting line was an enormous group of people—drivers, engineers, team members, and even a few journalists you didn’t completely hate. Each driver wore a graphic shirt with bold white letters reading: Thank You, Yn and a few pictures of you across your years in Formula One.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your heart skipped a beat. “What . . . What is this?”

Sebastian stepped forward, his ever-reassuring smile lighting up the moment. “A proper send-off,” he said warmly. “One last lap for you. A track walk.”

“Not just any track walk,” Daniel chimed in with a grin. “Your track walk.”

Tears pricked your eyes as they began pulling you forward, a mix of teasing and genuine affection guiding you. You fell into step with them, drivers and friends surrounding you as you moved along the track that had defined so much of your life.

Some jogged ahead, joking about trying to set a lap time on foot. Lando and Carlos kept close, cracking jokes about your rookie days and how you used to scold Lando in his internship/test driver year. Pierre and Charles teased you relentlessly, their laughter echoing in the twilight air.

Even Lewis was there. His presence was quiet, lingering at the edge of the group with Valterri, but still unmistakable. Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment. There was something unspoken in his gaze, a mixture of respect, regret, and something deeper. You quickly looked away, shifting your attention to Lando, who was recounting a hilariously exaggerated tale of a time you almost spun out during a wet race because of him.

By the time you reached the end of the lap, the floodgates had opened. Tears streamed freely down your face, and the overwhelming gratitude in your chest felt like it might burst.

“You guys,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sebastian pulled you into the first hug, followed by Max, who refused to let go until you both were laughing through your tears. One by one, the rest of the drivers followed—Charles, Lando, Fernando, Daniel, even Kimi. Each embrace was a reminder of the bonds you’d formed over the years, the highs and lows you’d shared.

As the group dispersed, Lewis was the last to approach. He didn’t say anything, simply offering a small, almost shy smile before extending a hand. You hesitated for a moment but returned the handshake. It was brief but significant, leaving you with a painful ache in your stomach you didn’t dare examine.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The race was a chaotic spectacle, an all-out battle between Max and Lewis for the WDC title. The intensity was palpable as they fought on equal points, and every lap was a high-stakes gamble. You gave everything you had to help Max secure that elusive championship. When Max pitted, you took advantage of the opportunity to attack Lewis, defending against him fiercely, holding him back just long enough for Max to pull ahead. You fought off anyone else who threatened, sacrificing yourself for the greater good, giving Max every chance to claim victory.

But then, disaster struck—Latifi's crash brought out the safety car, and the race was reduced to a single lap of pure, unfiltered chaos. The tension was unbearable as the countdown began for the final lap. Your heart raced as Max lined up his attack.

Max made his move at Turn Five, diving inside Lewis with a move so precise, it left the crowd gasping in awe. The roar of the fans was deafening as Max took the lead and held it, crossing the finish line first to claim his first World Championship. You followed behind, finishing P3, the weight of the moment crashing over you. The finality of it all, the realization that this was your last race, hit you like a ton of bricks.

In parc fermé, you could barely take it all in. Your car sat at the front, a place where everyone could bid you goodbye one last time. You climbed onto your car, lifting your helmet off and waving at the crowd, tears threatening to spill. The cheers from the stands were overwhelming, but they felt distant. Your chest tightened as you gazed out at the crowd, taking in the faces of your friends and fans. This sport had been your life for so long, and now it was over.

As you stepped down from the car, Max was the first to reach you. He pulled you into a tight hug, his voice low and full of emotion. “You did it,” you whispered, choking on the words, your own tears falling freely now.

Max held you even tighter. “We did it.”

You clung to him for a moment longer before the rest of the drivers came over—Fernando, Sebastian, Carlos, Lando, and Kimi too for some reason. Each one offered their congratulations, their hugs, their bittersweet farewells. But it was Fernando who lingered the longest, his arms around you, his hand brushing away the tears as he whispered comforting words in your ear.

He was the one who had always been there for you, through the highs and lows, and now, as you faced the end of this chapter, he didn’t let go. He didn’t have to say much. His presence was enough.

The podium ceremony was euphoric, a surreal mix of celebration and farewell. Max sprayed champagne in victory, dousing you as you laughed and cried. Lewis, still in the mix, sprayed the crowd, adding to the chaos of the moment. But amid all the noise and the cheering, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the finality in your heart.

As you stood on the podium with Max, the realization sank in: this was it. You had given everything to this sport, and now it was time to walk away.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After the podium celebrations, race debriefs, interviews, and endless press conferences, the weight of the night began to settle in. You stood outside the Red Bull motorhome, your final farewell hanging in the air like a soft sigh.

“Can’t wait to see the #1 on your car next year,” you said with a smile, turning to Max. He gave you a watery laugh, the weight of the moment not lost on either of you. “From my car to yours,” you added, your voice filled with emotion.

With your goodbyes said, you stepped out of the Motorhome, and there he was—Fernando, waiting for you just outside. His hand slid into yours as you approached, and without a word, the two of you began walking toward the exit of the paddock, the night stretching out before you.

At the turnstiles, you paused, your eyes lingering on the paddock one last time. The memories of everything—the wins, the losses, the laughter, the struggles—flashed through your mind. It was hard to leave it all behind.

“Not ready to leave?” Fernando asked softly, sensing the hesitation in your step.

You smiled faintly, your heart heavy with the weight of finality. “Not really.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his presence a calming anchor. “I’ll wait for you on the other side,” he murmured.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped through the turnstile, your heart racing as you glanced back one last time. The paddock, the lights, the people—it was all fading away, but you felt ready for whatever came next.

Your hand found Fernando’s again as you walked side by side, the soft click of your footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

“Let’s go home,”

[stealingpotatoes]

Your "let's never read legends and make up what happens in it" plan is extremely valid, actually.

I'm curious to see what you make of the fact that one time Aurra Sing lost a fight to Jacen Solo's five-year-old daughter Allana.

i was gonna say this is a new level of Wild even for legends, but come to think of it, 5yo jedi vs geriatric bounty hunter is pretty much a fair matchup when you think about it

[444lotus]

how i manifested (+revised) my dream body ౨ৎ

This is my first post on my new account, though I am NOT new to the law and NOT new to loablr either. This post is specifically about how I manifested my dream body instantly with no technique besides knowing :)

PART ONE - the old story

In the old story, I was so fixated on my body and my weight all of the time, I was tracking my calories and weighing myself and my food obsessively and constantly gaining and losing weight. Back then, my beliefs were that 1) Excess food causes weight gain, 2) If I don't track my food and weigh myself, I will become too fat/skinny, and 3) There is something wrong with my body, and I need to diet/exercise to fix it.

Noticing these beliefs were key to changing the way I viewed food and my body, and therefore changing how I knew food to effect me and how I knew my body to be.

When I was overweight, I knew my body was too big, I knew I was eating too much, I knew excess calories made me gain weight. When I was underweight, I knew I had no appetite, I knew I was too bony, I knew that exercise makes you gain muscle which is why I had none, etc. I had to identify the limiting beliefs that made me know my body was a certain way.

PART TWO - writing the new story

Once I identified the beliefs that were holding me back and kept me from my goals ("I know I eat too much, even if I affirm I'm skinny, I'm still going to gain weight."), I could then change them. I wrote down a list of these beliefs, like I did above, and came up with reversals. For example;

"I overeat, so I will gain weight" -> "Calories aren't even real, so I can eat whatever I want and stay the same weight."

"I eat junk food, so I'll never be skinny" -> "I love how fast my metabolism is, I can eat junk all day and still stay so skinny." or "Junk food is just like other foods. Raspberries can't make me fat so neither can hamburgers."

"I don't exercise enough to be toned" -> "It's crazy how I'm naturally so toned and fit without trying."

The key for me was changing key beliefs that kept me dieting and exercising to lose weight, to sever the tie between calories consumed and weight, and hours exercising and muscles. These are limiting beliefs. We literally create our reality. Not ice cream, not soda and chips, none of that can overcome YOU as a divine creator. It sounds silly when you spell it out like that, doesn't it?

PART THREE - how i did it

Okay, now we understand that the secret is to change the rules of our own reality to allow us to know a higher truth (my higher truth? I am a skinny legend). So how do we put this into practice?

All you have to do is know. You set these rules, so you know they are true, reality is bound to them. You must know you are successful, know that reality is in the 4d, and feel truly satisfied in that realm. You can do this using whatever method you need to, but personally, I just knew deep within me that I was my ideal weight, and that nothing could change that, that is simply the reality, that is simply the way things are. I thought about old pictures I took of myself, and remembered how skinny I looked in them, I thought about the last time I saw my friends and how much littler they said I'd gotten, I thought about the last time I stood on the scale and how it read the exact weight I knew myself to be. And I just knew, deep within me, that was simply how things were.

And the last step, for me, was to feel truly joyful at this realization. To feel satisfied it came into fruition. Without seeking confirmation, because I already KNEW.

And what do you know? Pictures of myself in my phone from weeks ago, they were my ideal body. The girl I saw in the mirror when I stood up from my meditation? She had my ideal body. My clothes? XS and S, all of them. I had revised my ideal body all the way back to the day I bought them. And confirmed this by checking pictures I took in the dressing room.

I'm telling you right now it is possible if you know in your heart you've always had your desire. It's always been fulfilled within you. You make the rules because you are a divine creator. Nothing outside of you can change what you know to be true.

That's all for now ౨ৎ

[dragon-ball-meta]

Finally feel like I can say something coherent, so here goes... I say this without a shred of exaggeration: Akira Toriyama was legitimately one of the most important creative figures of the last 50 years. His work, especially Dragon Ball, has influenced SO much even outside its own medium. Movies, TV, cartoons, comic books, video games, MUSIC... all of it. You can see his fingerprints in so many other works. Even now, artists and writers, voice actors and animators, musicians and game devs are all mourning him and reflecting on the impact he had on their own work. Titans of anime and manga are sharing in this pain. The craziest thing about this though? The humility he had in spite of it. He was always reluctant to be in the spotlight, preferred to keep his head down and just work, never really worried that much about public perception of himself. Part of what makes him such an icon, man. Losing him is losing a piece of our shared history. It's something that resonates deep in the hearts of everyone his work touched. This is just... such a loss. And I can't even begin to imagine what his family is going through right now. Praying for them all. Rest in Peace to a literal Legend, an absolute Icon, and a personal inspiration in more ways than I could ever express properly.

[fishofthewoods]

I see a lot of people clowning on the people of Pelican Town for not repairing the community center themselves or clowning on Lewis for embezzling and. like. Those criticisms aren't entirely unfair. But I think instead of coming at it from a perspective of "why can't the townspeople do this" we should be asking "why and how can the farmer do this?"

Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.

In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.

In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.

In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?

In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.

The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.

And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?

And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?

Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.

The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.

The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.

They always come home eventually.

[ozzgin]

Santa baby are you really there?!

*hears a voice in my backyard*

FUCK SKIN WALKER

- you make Yan skinwalker i’ll do anything to get a skin walker to love me … yes I am 100% mentally stable

I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D

Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]

On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.

Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud

It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. They’d warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that you’ve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said “Stay away” in dripping crimson letters should’ve been enough of a warning, but you assumed they’d just been creative with trail markers.

You didn’t have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.

Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.

Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."

Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.

Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.

That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...

You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?

The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.

[sugarlywhispers]

viking!b.katsuki x fem!reader

a.n; i wanted to give viking!bakugou a try, and honestly, this is all @imaginationmess fault for feeding me fanarts of bakugou and his dragon🙃 luv you tho🤍

Viking Bakugou Katsuki who rides the biggest and most terrifying dragon that has ever existed.

A legend said that his dragon in particular had been going on for generations in his family, no one willing to risk their life to tame it. Until Katsuki’s uncle, Bakugou Kudo, did it. He had been the first in generations to ride this dragon. Yet he understood that the bond between dragon and riders was not consolidated between them.

When Katsuki was eight, the little shit escaped the hut and went towards where the nests were. Kudo almost had a heart attack when he saw the brat far off and almost there. He sprinted as fast as he could, a tragedy already displaying in his head –the kid being incinerated, turned to ashes, and his sister cutting his dick off for being a sorry ass uncle. Fuck, and he would had deserved it. Because even though he had tamed the beast, it was still very unstable to let anyone close to it; one of his own men had suffered the consequences of trying to get close, more than half his body had been burned. He was no longer part of their battles.

However, Kudo saw in first person how a dragon’s bond was created. Between his terrifying dragon and his little nephew.

It hadn’t looked much from his perspective, yet he felt the magical aura surrounding them. Katsuki laughed as he touched the dragon’s snot like it was a mer pup, happy and excited while climbing its leg with such ease until he was up on its back, right behind the head. The dragon himself helped the kid to reach the place. Kudo noticed then the beast’s eyes shining a very resplendent gold. Yep, that was definitely a bond.The kid was anything but scared, as he caressed the dragon's head, hugging it even.

Kudo smiled, shaking his head, hands over his hips as he took a deep breath, relaxing. The dragon was only letting him ride it because it knew that Katsuki was his bonded rider and Kudo was related by blood to the kid.

As years went by, the bond only became stronger and deeper. Kudo would ride it in battles, but once at home, the brat and the beast were like one. When Katsuki turned eighteen, Kudo retired from battles and settled down with a wife and kids at the village located next to that of where their family originally came from. From that day on, the brat became the dragon’s one and only owner.

Katsuki was the only human being able to control, care for and command this massive dragon, also becoming the nightmare of most villages in the world. Both, dragon and rider were vicious, deadly and feared.

You still remember the day Bakugou Katsuki landed on your lands. The bright blue sky suddenly turned dark, the huge dragon he rode clouding the sun above. Everyone knew what it meant. Destruction and chaos, the end of their peaceful lives.

The Leader of the village, your dad, didn’t waste time in trying to negotiate a truce between them.

And that truce is you.

You are forced to marry him, to leave your family, friends and life there and go with this barbaric man. You are a bit afraid he is some sort of savage. Rumors told how violent he was, how scary he looked with his scars and aggressive attitude towards everyone. Now that you have said man in front of you, you agreed with all of them.

You were expecting him to manhandle you, to treat you like another woman he picked to use for his own pleasure. Yet all you received since you stepped foot in his village, in his home, had been nothing but coldness and distance. He has kept to himself, doing his stuff and trying not to get in your way. Least to say, it has been completely awkward since the ceremony.

When you are getting ready for it, his mom enters his-your hut. She smiles, a sincere feeling in her eyes, “Being the daughter of a Leader sucks, ain’t it?”

You look down, a slight smile on your face that agrees with her but eyes filled with tears you’re holding back. “It does.”

You feel her hand on your shoulder, and the little squish she gives it in reassurance makes the knot in your throat tighter.

“My son is not a charming prince; however, I know the kind of man I raised him to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t say anything in response. You don’t even look back at her, but you think she didn’t expect it either as she walks out, leaving you alone. As you walk towards the entrance, fully knowing that once you cross it, your soon to be husband will be waiting at the end of the aisle, all you can wish is that Ms. Bakugou is right.

When the ceremony reaches its end, the old lady of his village drawing the symbols of union, love and family in your foreheads, Bakugou extends his hands for you to lay yours over his. You still haven’t looked him in the eyes, but you do what's expected for the ceremony. When your hands touch the skin of his, you can't avoid thinking how warm they feel. Big calloused, rough and strong hands surround yours, and you don't hate the feeling. On the contrary, it’s quite comforting. The old lady ties a beautifully white and gold silk ribbon around your hands, symbolizing the union of the souls.

While everyone cheers, you finally decide to raise your eyes towards him. Deep red eyes collide with yours, making a shudder run your body at their intensity. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad feeling, but it is something you have never felt before.

A tingly feeling swirls in your stomach as you realize Bakugou Katsuki's face is getting closer and closer to yours, his intent clear. He is going to kiss you. Your first kiss. You close your eyes instinctively and his lips touch yours in a quick and short peck. Yet it feels like all the tingles in your stomach exploded, sending warmth throughout your whole body.

That has been the only close and physical interaction you have had until today.

Bakugou Katsuki decides to give you space to accommodate and get to know his village and people around.

It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. However, he never makes any sort of move towards you.

Until one day…

Bakugou got back that morning to the village after being away for almost four days with the victory of conquering another village, so you decide to bring him some of the sweet bread you have cooked as a welcome back. You have to admit, this time with him since the marriage ceremony hasn’t been bad. Civil, even. Despite his distance and cold attitude, he has never disrespected or forced you to nothing. Not even that first night as husband and wife. He didn’t even try, he simply picked one of the pillows and clothes to make a bed on the floor, closer to the entrance door, and slept there. You have been very confused. Your mum had previously told you everything of what was expected from a woman on the night of the ceremony. You expected even a fight between you two, because of course you didn’t want that to happen with a complete stranger like he was still to you.

Nevertheless, he never hovers over you. But you do feel his eyes on you whenever he’s around. He always makes some sort of sound for you to acknowledge that his presence is close. Katsuki is attentive to your reactions whenever you are both alone and doesn't even raise his voice at you. Ever.

Then again, he is his ruthless self with everyone else.

You tried looking for him around the village, but couldn't find Bakugou anywhere. So you walk towards the woods where you know the dragon's nests are, where they rest. Even though Bakugou has explicitly forbidden you to go near there, due to the danger their dragons were most of the time, even for the riders.

You are confident Katsuki will be there, so probably he will see you from a distance and you wont need to get that close. But when you arrive, you come face to face with the massive beast: Bakugou's dragon, Cweorth.

You have seen it at a distance, but having the beast up close is a completely different experience. Its whole body is red, with golden piercing eyes that feel very much like Bakugou’s itself. Its wings are huge as they spread in a stretching movement up high, almost taller than the big trees that surround the woods. You can even see some flare of gold in its scale that actually looks mesmerizing. Majestic.

Your basket falls to the floor in shock when the beast finally looks down at your small, minuscule being. It watches you intently, with a scowl on its face –like beast, like owner. But far away from feeling scared by it, you feel intrigued. You feel enamored even as you stand there, looking at such majestic creature.

Bakugou is actually several meters away, taking a bath in the lake close to the nests, cleaning all the blood and dirt off his body before going to the hut he shares with you. He has some scratches and cuts from the fights, but nothing deep or worrisome. He is very proud in saying he is the fucking best out there.

When he's walking through the woods back to the nests of their dragons, he sees it.

His whole body freezes. You are standing there, your arm and hand stretched upwards. His own dragon, the one who eats men like candy at Katsuki's own command, the one who has burned villages in seconds with his strong fire, the one who hates anyone’s touch or closeness that isn't Bakugou himself... His dragon has his snot close to you, letting you pet him with its eyes closed, enjoying your affection like a small puppy dog.

And he can not fucking believe what his eyes are seeing.

Of all the women he has had before you, none were brave enough to even look at the beast. They had all been afraid to death.

And there you stand, looking even fascinated by it. Eyes shining and smiling as you feel for the first time what its skin is like under your touch. You look… beautiful. Gorgeous. Heavenly sent. Fuck. You have him in your hands already.

Bakugou Katsuki then decides:

He will fucking kiss the ground you walk. He will give you everything you ask of him.

You want certain clothes to wear? He will search for them for you. You want certain foods? He will fly his dragon to wherever they are made or grown on. You want a land? He will fucking burn every single thing or life it takes to give it to you.

You want him? He will gladly give himself completely to you.

Well, he already is.

[pucksandpower]

Welcome to Miami

Lando Norris x Messi!Reader

Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months

Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy

Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with

You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.

Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.

The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.

Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.

You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.

As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.

You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.

When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.

But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.

When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.

Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.

The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.

How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?

A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.

Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.

God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.

No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.

You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.

But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?

***

You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.

How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.

The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.

You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”

Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.

His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.

You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”

To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”

You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”

A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.

It all fits.

“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.

Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”

There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.

“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.

But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.

“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.

Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.

You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”

You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.

“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.

Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.

“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.

You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.

No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.

***

Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”

“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.

“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.

“This is Lionel Messi.”

Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.

“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.

Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”

Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.

There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.

Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.

He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...

Oh shit.

“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”

Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!

“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.

Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”

The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”

“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”

There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.

Leo Messi’s daughter.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?

His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.

Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?

Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.

The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.

When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.

***

The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.

He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?

A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.

Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”

The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.

The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.

Get it together, man. This is it.

All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.

Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.

Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t like you.”

The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.

“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.

The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.

You.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.

He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”

“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.

An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.

“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”

The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.

“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”

He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.

His kid.

You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”

The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.

“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”

The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.

Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.

“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”

With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.

You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”

Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.

An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.

Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”

Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”

Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”

Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”

You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.

“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.

“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.

Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.

You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.

“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”

You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”

“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.

Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.

***

Ten Months Later

The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.

“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”

Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”

“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”

“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”

Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.

“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.

You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”

Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.

“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”

“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”

Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”

Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.

“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.

“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”

“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”

“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”

Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.

“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.

You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.

“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”

“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”

The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”

The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.

Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”

Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”

With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.

“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”

That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”

You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.

“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”

“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.

The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.

“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.

Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”

You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”

The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”

With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.

Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.

“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”

You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”

Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.

As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.

So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Soo, for the event: "Please leave him, I know I'm not perfect but for you i'll try, I promise i'll try"

Or something like that

~1k words. (They're idiots in love)

You knew Jason Todd would never be yours. Knew it when you were barely a teenager and just entering high school. Knew it when he miraculously returned from the dead. Knew it when he made a name for himself as a hero.

It wasn’t just the fact he was consistently voted one of the most attractive vigilantes in the Gotham Gazettes annual popularity contest. No, it was the fact that Jason Todd belongs among legends and myths, and you? You were none of those things.

You weren’t delusional to believe yourself worthy of him, not when he walked with gods and monsters and always seemed to come out on top. So, you buried your feelings, buried them so deep that no one batted an eye when you started dating.

Your relationships never seemed to last long, though, not when they always seemed to have a problem with your best friend being a guy, and then a bigger problem with said best friend being your roommate.

But your most recent boyfriend has managed to last longer than any of your previous relationships. You thought it was a good sign, that maybe you could move on from your age-old crush.

Your heart had other plans. It didn't help that your boyfriend didn't seem to exactly care about you either. He seemed more interested in his video games, and in dragging you along to whatever parties his friends are throwing.

It was obvious, to everyone really, he was using you as some kind of arm candy. You figured it was only fair, you were using him too, even if he didn't know.

Your friends were at least nice about it, even as you brushed off their concerns that you deserved better. Jason, though? He couldn't seem to let it go.

It was almost an everyday conversation for the past week. He'd never been so opposed to any of the people you’ve dated before, but he's treating your boyfriend like he has a personal vendetta.

Sharp glares whenever he picks you up, biting remarks to have you home safe. Those you could deal with, but the near lectures? The insistence that your boyfriend is the wrong guy for you? It's aggravating. You know your boyfriend is wrong, but you can't exactly have what you want.

“He won't make you happy,” Jason grumbles, face furrowed as you sit down on the couch.

“I'm not marrying the guy,” You huff, making a face right back at him. You've been having the same back and forth for days, and you really can't figure out why. Sure, your boyfriend sucks, but he's not hurting you.

Jason looks at you like he's affronted that the idea of marriage is even on your mind, “He's a bum.”

“He's– okay, but he brought me those goldfish,” you protest, gesturing towards the kitchen as if to prove your point.

He cocks his head at you, tone clearly unimpressed, “The ones in the snack bag? Doll, I think they were his leftovers.”

You wince a little, unable to deny his claim as you try to find any good in your relationship, “He texts me goodnight.”

“So do half your friends. And me. I say goodnight to you,” he points out, put out by your instance to defend your boyfriend.

“That's different,” you mumble, dropping your gaze. You find it kind of embarrassing, the way you're still searching for his approval even if you don't particularly care for your current relationship.

“Not really,” he sighs out, and carefully sinks to his knees in front of you to grab your hand. It snaps your attention back to his face. “Look,” he starts slowly, “I just want you to have the best, and he's– he's only gonna make you miserable, sweetheart.”

“What does it matter? Nothing changes if I'm with him or if I'm not,” You grumble, trying not to focus on the way his warmth seeps into your skin.

He looks increasingly conflicted at your words, squeezing your hand as he speaks, “I could treat you better. The way you should be treated.”

Your breath hitches. That's– there's no way. It has to be some kind of joke. He's pitying you, maybe. Or it's some sort of twisted sense of responsibility towards you.

But he keeps talking, voice low like he’s trying not to send you running, “Please leave him, I know I'm not perfect, but for you I'll try, I promise I'll try."

“What are you saying,” You ask weakly, unable to face the possibility that he means any of it.

He meets your gaze, firm and resolute. He sets his jaw like he's working up the courage to spill all his secrets, “I'm saying that I would make you happy. I don't know if it would be great, I don't even know if it would even be good, but I would make sure you were happy. I– you mean the world to me.”

He breathes out your name, raises your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles, “I want you to be happy.”

You think you might be dreaming. Never in your wildest fantasies did you ever consider Jason Todd would be willing to tie himself to you. But there's no waver in his face, no lie in his eyes.

“Just think about it, sweetheart. We're already– you're already the most important person to me. Taking another step together wouldn't be so scary, right” he prompts gently, and you can only dumbly nod in response.

The smile that spreads across his face is intoxicating, and it almost has you agreeing to the whole idea immediately.

“Good, good,” he murmurs, standing up and sending you another wide grin. His voice grows more confident as awe fills your face, “You think on it tonight, doll, break up with him tomorrow, and tomorrow night? I'll take you on a date. A real date. Something you'll like.”

He sounds excited, even eager at the thought, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. It's hardly the first time he's done it, but it feels different this time, special. “Just think on it,” he tells you, smile easy and inviting.

He leaves you on the couch to think about it. It doesn't take long for you to decide. After all, your boyfriend will understand, you've never been good at saying no to Jason Todd.

[greengoblinswifey]

i was the one that asked if you writw dark stuff. and tysm for replying, you are so incredibly sweet💕🎀

So, could you write a dark fanfic with Nicholas or Father Charlie (you choose lol) with noncon and maybe dv? like, reader meets him and one of her family members owns him something and he like? uses her instead? if thats okay, could u do it rlly darkkk?

tysm and ily!!! 💕💞

Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your father fucked nicholas over and he kidnaps you to get his payback.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. kidnapping, manipulation, extreme degrading, praise kink, face slapping, male masturbation, crying kink, face fucking, CNC, unprotected sex, knife play, death threats, violence, bondage, mentions of bruises, choking, double penetration with knife handle, anal, breeding kink, stockholm syndrome.

a/n— i think this is quite…dark and thank you🫶🏽hope you guys enjoy, def stepped out of my comfort zone for this, requests are open!

Nicholas had always known your father was a powerful man, a producer and director with the kind of influence that could turn anyone into a Hollywood legend. They had made a deal, Nicholas would land two starring roles that would launch his career to the next level. The first film had given him some visibility, but no real money, thanks to your father’s manipulation of the contract. The second role was supposed to be his ticket to true fame and fortune. But then, it all fell apart. Your father broke his promises, cutting Nicholas out in favor of his own friend, Cooper Koch. Worse yet, he’d seized some of Nicholas' property as “leverage” during the filming, draining him financially and leaving him furious and betrayed.

Your father had underestimated just how deep Nicholas’ anger would run. He wanted what was rightfully his, and if he couldn’t get it through negotiations or agreements, he’d find another way. That’s when he learned about you—the daughter your father doted on, especially since the loss of his only son, your older brother, who was meant to be the family heir. But Nicholas wasn’t here for empathy. He wanted revenge, and he knew exactly how to get it.

You agreed to go on a date with Nicholas, the rising star you had met and grown fond of, without a second thought. But as you sat in his car, something felt off. He was silent, his gaze hard as he gripped the steering wheel, ignoring your attempts at small talk.

“Where are we going?” you asked, noticing that he’d missed the turn toward the restaurant.

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched tightly. Finally, he murmured, “Change of plans.”

You felt a prickle of unease and glanced around, trying to piece together where he might be headed. The buildings grew sparse, and the trees thickened on either side of the road, casting shadows as the sun dipped lower. “This doesn’t look like the way to any restaurant,” you said, your voice faltering.

He turned to you, eyes cold. “It’s not.”

A chill ran down your spine. Panic set in as he accelerated, the car speeding down a winding road that led into the dense woods. “Nicholas, stop the car,” you demanded, reaching for the door handle, but he locked it before you could react.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “You think your father can cross me and get away with it? That he can just toss me aside like I’m nothing?” His grip on the wheel tightened. “This isn’t a date, sweetheart. This is payback.”

Your heart pounded as you pulled at the door, the lock refusing to budge. “You don’t have to do this! Whatever he did-”

“He took everything from me,” Nicholas snarled, his eyes darkening as he drove deeper into the woods. “Everything I worked for. The fame, the fortune, my properties, my pride. And now? I’m taking something from him.”

In a desperate attempt to escape, you kicked at him, your fists pounding against his arm. He barely flinched, his focus unbreakable as he finally pulled up to a secluded cabin, hidden by towering trees and thick brush. You barely had time to scream before he leaned over, his hand covering your mouth.

“Quiet,” he hissed, his voice cold as he tightened his grip. “You’re going to make this harder on yourself sweetheart.”

With a swift motion, he hit a spot on the side of your head, and darkness began to cloud your vision. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was his dark gaze.

When you woke, your hands were bound to a bed frame in a dimly lit room, and your head throbbed. The dim light filtered through the cracks in the cabin walls, casting eerie shadows. He was there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a look that was almost satisfied.

“Comfortable?” he asked mockingly, tilting his head.

You struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “You’re fucking insane! My father won’t just let this slide!”

He laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Your father will do exactly what I want, or he’ll never see you again.”

As you struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “My father won’t stand for this. He’ll ruin you,” you spat, words filled with venom. “You think your career’s over now? It’s nothing compared to what he’ll do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

His smirk faded, his gaze darkening. In a flash, he crossed the room, sending a chill through you. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours as his hand struck yours with force, the impact whipping your head to the side.

“Careful with that fucking attitude,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “If you want to get through this in one piece, you’d better be a good little girl and play along.” His mouth curled into a mocking smile as he added, “Maybe I’ll let you go if you can manage that.”

A spark of hope flickered across your burning face, but his mocking laugh snuffed it out. “Oh, don’t look so hopeful,” he sneered. “I own you now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

The next few days, Nicholas seemed almost amused by your resistance, feeding off your energy as he reminded you just how little control you had. You played along in the way he wanted you to, letting him hold you close as he told you about the disgusting things he wanted to do to you and your father and whatever other sick games he had in mind. Whenever he would see you cry and resist him, your acrylics digging in his back and leaving welts, you noticed the prominent bulge it left in his pants.

One morning, he threw down a newspaper, its headline blaring the news of your disappearance and the national search underway. Your father’s influence had reached every corner of the country, and law enforcement was relentless. Nicholas caught your glance, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Guess Daddy dearest is worried,” he taunted, feigning innocence. “How touching.”

You burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer, you missed your father and you wanted to be away from the psycho standing in front of you. He laughed in your face, slowly taking out his impressively long and hard cock, pumping it as you cried harder. Disgust filled you as you watched him moan the harder you cried. He was getting off to your pain and somehow—deep inside, watching him get off to you turned you on.

“Keep fucking crying sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum so hard.” Disgusted, you turned your head away, refusing to look at the sight before you but he just chuckled. You opened your eyes feeling the bed dip and you looked up at him, seeing him with his cock above you.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he growled, his stroking become more frantic.

“You’re disgusting,” you spat. He stopped stroking his dick to slap you in the face with it, earning a soft whimper. Obeying him, you opened your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut at the man before you shoved his length into your mouth, thrusting, before he shot his load down your throat.

“Fucking hell, that’s a good fucking whore, take all my cum,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your curls and bucking his hips.

As soon as he let you go, your head snapped to the side, shame filling you.

Nicholas leaned in, his expression cold. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice steady and unyielding. “You’ll make up for every single thing your father took from me. And once I’m done, once I’ve taken back what’s rightfully mine, he’ll be begging for my mercy.”

You glared back, forcing yourself to hold his gaze despite the fear tightening in your chest. “You’re delusional if you think you can control me or him,” you said, your voice shaking with defiance.

Nicholas laughed, unphased. “We’ll see. By the time I’m finished, you won’t even want to go back to that man.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Because I’n going to break you like a bitch and you’ll be begging to stay with me.”

He watched your expression, almost amused, as you struggled to maintain your composure. “You’ve done well so far, taking my cock down your throat,” he continued, his tone dark but oddly approving. “Maybe it’s time I marked you as mine.”

You swallowed, your mind racing. No matter how much you fought, the lines between fear and something you didn’t want to admit were beginning to blur. He seemed to sense it, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he leaned back, leaving you to confront the uncertainty.

A gasp left your lips as he gripped your throat, tearing your dress off you. He was a predator and you were his prey. His eyes scanned your almost bare body, licking his lips as you quivered in fear. If your hands weren’t bound to the bed you would’ve tried concealing yourself.

“Please stop,” you whimpered.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, “don’t make me gag you, better yet I won’t, I want to hear you beg me to stop then I want to hear your little moans when you realize I’m making you feel good.”

Your lips quivered as you fought back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction he wanted.

“Now, I’m going to untie you and you’re going to take off your underwear like a good little bitch. If you try anything stupid, I’ll fucking kill you, understood?” he said, reaching for your wrists.

Slowly, you nodded, the threat rising fear inside you but a sharp smack to the face jolted you. “I said do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes Nicholas.”

He untied your wrists, and you looked down to see them black and blue. Slowly, you carried out his request, only having to take off your underwear as you unfortunately went to the ‘date’ not wearing a bra.

“Now spread those legs.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you complied, knowing exactly what the psycho would do to you if you refused. “Good girl.” He reached for the bedside table, taking out a sharp knife from the drawer. “Now, once again, if you think of doing anything stupid, I’ll slit that pretty throat and still fuck it.”

He held the knife lightly against your throat, his fingers dipping between your legs as you trembled. “If you’re so fucking scared and I’m a psycho, why are you soaked? Why the fuck are you wet?”

Shame overtook you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, just wanting it all to be over. You thought about your father, your dead brother, anything to take your mind off what was about to happen.

“It’s gonna be okay princess, I’ll take good care of you if you take good care of me.” He knelt on the bed, making sure you were mouth level with his cock. “It’s time to take good care of me, open up that mouth and I swear to god if you use teeth, I’ll use the knife to knock out every last one of them.”

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth, and he slowly pushed his big cock into it. Your mouth was wide open and you were gagging on it, trying your best to breathe. He began snapping his hips forward, his cock continuously going down your throat and through it all, he kept the knife pressed against your throat.

“Fuck, you really have a mouth on you,” he chuckled, “you’re suck a good cock sleeve, I’m going to enjoy using you like the whore you are.”

His thrusts became rougher and you could hardly breathe and soon, he held you by your curls, pushing your head all the way down until your nose was on his pubes. “I’m gonna cum bitch, swallow my fucking load, don’t let it go to waste.”

You couldn’t even spit it out if you wanted to. He released down your throat, the action making you cough around his dick as he made sure to milk every drop inside your mouth. “You did so good for me baby, I know you’re enjoying this.”

You shivered as he used the cold handle of the knife, rubbing it up and down your folds. Shame bubbled inside you as you heard the unmistakable sound of squelching noises telling you exactly how soaked you were.

“What a disgusting slut, your pussy is practically gushing for me, are you seriously enjoying this?” You looked away embarrassed, heat rising in your cheeks.

A gasp left your lips as you felt the handle sink into your pussy. “Nicholas, please, no,” you begged, disgusted at the sight below you.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Shut the fuck up!” he screamed at you.

Your pussy clenched around the handle as he began fucking you with it faster, the pain soon subsiding and being replaced by pleasure. Trying to hold back your moans seemed futile as he began rubbing your clit and the handle hit a certain spot inside you.

“You’re getting off on this? Fuck, you’re much more of a whore than I thought. If you cum on the knife’s handle I’ll know for sure you were just asking for my cock, you’re fucking asking for it,” he chuckled, darkly.

Hearing his words, you pressed your lips together, containing your moans and trying your hardest not to cum. He only chuckled at your attempts, the handle speeding up inside you and the squelching noises becoming louder and louder. You wished you were deaf in that moment, at least you wouldn’t have to endure the shame of knowing being manhandled by your kidnapper was turning you on.

“Cum for me whore, I know you want to, you won’t be able to stop yourself forever.” Your body betrayed you and as soon as the words left his lips, you soaked his hand and the handle inside you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re disgusting,” he laughed, looking down at his soaked hand, “did you really just squirt from me fucking you with a knife blade?”

It felt like your world was crumbling as he laughed mockingly and your pussy twitched, slowly gushing.

“Well then, that was easy, I think you’re ready for this big, fat cock to fuck that tight pussy.” He dragged you by your legs, pulling you flat on your back and rubbed the tip up and down your pussy.

“Nicholas, you don’t have to do this, my father will give you back everything he took, I promise. Y-you can let me go, please, I won’t tell.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, slapping you on the mouth, “you don’t get it do you? I own you now. You’re mine. He took everything away from me and I’ll take and use you instead.”

Not giving up, you tried to beg more, “Please don’t, I’m begging you.”

“If you didn’t want me to fuck you, you wouldn’t have squirted for me. You wouldn’t have been soaked like a whore from my touch. Surely you want this, surely your body knows you better than your dumb little brain does. Just lay there and take it, you’ll like it.”

Maybe he was right. If you didn’t want it, why else would you have been wet? Why did you cum? Your body would’ve refused him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, maybe he just wanted to make you feel good like he did before.

A scream erupted as he pushed his thick cock inside you, giving you no time to adjust. “That’s it bitch, scream for me.”

Your gasps and screams grew louder as he began pounding into you, the bed frame smacking against the wall and your tits bouncing. He took up the knife and traced it along your jaw, admiring how you looked taking him. He brought it down to your tits, increasing his pace and making you moan and scream even louder for him. The intensity of it all was unbearable and you could already feel the impending orgasm.

“I need you to remember you’re nothing but a pussy for me to fuck, a cock slut. You feel so fucking good clenching around my dick.”

He began using the wet handle to rub your clit and you knew it was over for you. Gripping on to his toned biceps, your jaw fell open, loud moans leaving you as you came all over his raw cock inside you. Curse him for not at least using a condom.

“That’s it, let it all out, let out those slutty moans too. You should be a bitch in porn with the way you squirt and moan,” he laughed breathlessly.

He swiftly flipped you onto your back, but instead of pulling your ass up to him, he pressed a bit of his body weight onto you as you lay flat on the bed, slipping his cock inside your pussy once more.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

He began pounding into you as you shamefully had your hands on your ass spreading yourself for him. “You should see just how wet you are, but I’m sure hearing it tells you all you need to know.”

You felt so full with him pressing down on you, thrusting roughly, having no regard for the mix of pain that accompanied the pleasure. But, deep down, you were enjoying it. You enjoyed the way he manhandled you, the way he spoke to you like you were nothing, the way he was fucking you like you were just a flesh light.

“Oh god your pussy is just sucking me in, clenching so tightly around me, cum for me again bitch.”

Unable to spread your pussy for him any longer, you gripped the sheets as you came hard around his cock. He continued fucking you through your high, making sure you felt everything. Making sure you knew who was fucking you and who gave you such an intense orgasm.

“My turn. I’m gonna cum inside you, breed this pussy. You’re gonna be all swollen and pregnant, then that baby is gonna be my lucky ticket to yours and your father’s fortune,” he laughed.

“Please, no, I can’t— I’m not on birth control,” you cried out.

“Oh fuck, do you feel my cock throbbing? That’s even better.”

Your protests proved futile and he filled you to the brim. The warm feeling of his load inside you making you moan in content.

“See? You’re just a slutty bitch who likes getting her pussy fucked. You know what else needs to be fucked? That tight little ass.”

Horror spread across your face. No one had ever fucked you in the ass before. He spat on your asshole then used your juices and his cum from your pussy to lubricate it, pushing it in with his fingers. You winced at the unusual intrusion. He continued fingering your ass, shoving the lubricants inside and prepping you for his cock.

“Couldn’t stop looking at that tight asshole when you were spreading for me. I just had to have it. You were practically begging for it.”

Maybe he was right, why else would you have spread yourself? Of course he would’ve seen your tight ass and wanted to fuck it too. How could you be so stupid?

“Get ready bitch.”

“Please—”

Your pleads fell on deaf ears and he pulled your ass up to him, pressing his hand into your back so you could arch for him. Slowly, his big cock began slipping inside your ass, inch by inch. He was more generous with it than your pussy.

“Fuck baby, this ass is so fucking tight, I know for goddamn sure I’m the first to fuck you in it.” He was right.

He began pounding harder as your ass opened up for him. You felt so full, you didn’t know you could feel more full until he pushed the handle of the knife into your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, the intensity making you see stars. All that was in your head was pleasure and cumming again.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” he beamed, “now bounce that ass back on my cock and this knife.”

Obeying immediately, you bounced your ass back. Your moans were so loud, the whole woods could probably hear. You didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t deny how good he was making you feel, how he was hitting all the right spots inside you. His thrusts met your ass and he rammed the handle inside your pussy over and over.

“Squirt for me baby, squirt and I’ll fill this ass up.”

You nodded frantically, still throwing your ass back to him and you screamed, your orgasm overtaking you like you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl, that’s my bitch, now beg, beg for me to cum inside your ass.”

“Please, fuck— please cum inside my ass, I need you to, please do it,” you begged.

He smirked, throwing the knife on the bed and slapping your ass as he groaned loudly, his load spurting in your ass. He held you in place and soon pulled out, watching as his cum leaked out of both your holes. He ruined you. You were his.

As he pulled out and fell beside you, you instinctively snuggled into his side, a million degrading thoughts running through your head.

[loveemagicpeace]

Astrology Observations🪐

Men with capricorn placements or 10th house have a more paternal approach and fatherly qualities. They try to be good fathers. They embody this energy much more than others. They are very caring and do a lot for their children. They will almost always accept responsibility.

Capricorn placements have hard time letting thing and people go cuz they know that one they will let go they will not go back to that. its like a rule that they have.

Capricorn is associated with the seagoat, which means that he also has a lot of emotions hidden behind his cold nature. No one really knows how many difficult things they have experienced, because they always hide a part of themselves inside that they don't show to everyone (sometimes to no one). They know how to go through problems alone and usually do not talk about them until they are resolved. They can be much more secretive than scorpions. One thing that Capricorns will never express is that they are having a hard time or that they need help. They are taught to go through life on their own and overcome difficulties along the way. They are used to cruelty and a cruel world. They are vulnerable people inside, but they rarely show this side to anyone. They don't want to appear weak. Capricorns are very lonely people inside. Legend has it that "the seagoat lived with his children and warned them to stay in the water, but they went to the city." So the goat grew up in its loneliness and later died" that's why goats are used to being alone. Capricorns suffer in silence.

It isn't always easy for Rising-Capricorns to show their feelings, though powerful feelings do exist. You love deeply, are loyal and protective, and go out of your way to do kind deeds for others. However, you are often torn by jealousy and resentment (which you hide), and down deep you never really forgive someone who does you an injury.

U always have to look for mars sign in person chart to see how much effort they will put into something/ anything. Cuz mars is the way u act and react on things. What u will do about it and also how u fight. For ex.: mars in sagittarius have a fiery reaction to their surroundings and to the things that happen around them. And they are also very persistent. Mars in libra have very peaceful response. They do a lot for the relationship.

Being born on the cups means u have some tendencies of other sign. For ex.: libra sun born on 18-22 oct. have tendencies of scorpio which means that they will be much more intense, deep. You have magnetic personal charm. Your sensuality attracts others, even when you are not aware of it. U can also be more controling. Libra sun born from sept. 23 - sept 27 have more tendencies of virgo. You are people-oriented and possess a talent for making others like you. You would like to keep your emotions on an even keel, but you tend to be either enthusiastically happy or else dejected over some little thing going wrong. Love makes you feel fulfilled, and you are probably flirtatious.

For your health you have to look at your sun and opposite sign of your sun, rising sign & also all the other planets you have in your chart. For ex.: if you have stellium in your aires or a lot of energy of this sign u will embody a lot of this energy. So this means that your head, face, facial bone structure and hair will be the most exposed.

People with libra and sagittarius placements are most prone to being obsessed with shopping. There is no limit to how much you can buy. And you are very obsessed with buying clothes or something related to you. You like to enjoy comfort and things and don't feel bad about spending money.

My opinion is that in synastry aspect with sun conj ascendant, the person with the ascendant will be more attached to the person with the sun. Because the sun is what you shine for and your ego and person automatically emits this energy and follows it. And the sun is also something with which a person is seen. What a person is seen for or what makes them the center of attention. The ascendant person, however, has this personality.

Your 7th house is what you want to be, but it is difficult for you to achieve it, because it is a sign that is opposite to what you are. It is the hardest thing to achieve. So when you meet a person who has this energy, you like them for that very reason. Because it has the energy you need. For ex.: Aries in 7th house but the person has 1st house placements -You will find the person attractive because they have self-confidence, determination, courage, madness, hot-bloodedness. And it is exactly this person who will draw these characteristics out of you. 7th house is want u need not what u necessary desire. And this person will bring challenges out of you, and that's exactly why you'll like them.

Pisces will love being around people who will give them a sense of understanding. When they see that they are seen and understood. Because that's what they need and want. They need a lot of attention and tenderness. It's just that they don't show it like that because they don't know how. They feel safe with people with which they are seen.

Sagittarius placements especially mars they don't like staying in one place for a long time. They like to do things. They like challenges and explorations. And when they travel there, they also learn a lot about themselves. You like to experience the excitement of love in the same way you search for diversion in the rest of your life. First attractions are always wildly romantic. They don't like to waste time with a person if the energy is not compatible. They are very passionate in love and love that passion back. It is difficult to stimulate them.

People with the Neptune in 1st house spent a lot of their times near the sea. Also are more prone to be artistic, dreamers. With Uranus in 1st house your life is often marked by sudden and unexpected beginnings. You have a high-strung personality and an in- dependent way of looking at things. You can be strong- willed about getting your own way. Jupiter in 1st house- You are blessed with luck, and things usually turn out for the best in life. Venus in 1st house-Your appearance is important to you and you tend to spend too much money on yourself. Saturn in 1st house-You are patient and a bit shy, feel nervous underneath (which you keep under tight self-control).

Sun in 2nd house -You need security and tend to attract money, but it comes into and goes out of your life rather quickly. Pluto in 2nd house-You are adventurous about money and not afraid of taking risks. You like to diversify, and during your lifetime there may be several changes in your source of income.

Sun in 9th house-You enjoy seeing new places and exploring new ideas. You are a person who stands by your word and tends to be idealistic. Mercury in 9th house-During your middle years you may travel a great deal, both for health and your work.

Pluto in 11th house- You are something of a reformer, and seek to bring about a change for the better in any situation. You feel intensely about your goals and may even have an obsessive personality.

Sun in 12th house-You like privacy and quiet and the joys of meditation and reflection. You may be reticent or have difficulty expressing yourself and are close to only a few people. Mars in 12th house-you keep your deep and vehement feelings secret from the world. You have strong intuitive powers that can be used to advantage in personal relationships. Pluto in 12th house- You are a private person and do not share your emotions easily. People don't know how many darknes you carry within you.

Always look at the kind of Venus a person has (because that's what a person wants in love). What kind of love language does a venus person have. Women show what they find beautiful in a relationship and what will be attractive to them. With men, it shows what kind of woman they want and what it is that attracts them most in a woman. Example: Capricorn venus in 4th house - a man will want a woman who is strong, capable, can endure a lot of pain, responsible, reliable and devoted. They don't necessarily want a woman who is successful, rather a woman who has a goal and knows what she wants and is determined. At the same time, a caring woman may have a little maternal quality (more compassion, emotions).

People who have Bucket shape of chart tend to have a single-minded drive toward achieving a goal. They marshal their energies in one direction. People who have See-Saw shape will always stand between two decisions in life. Everything they choose will have two paths. Seesaw personalities are always able to see two sides of a question. They take into consideration opposing viewpoints and opinions, and weigh these when making their decisions. People who have Bowl shape will always have the feeling that something is missing in their lives. Until they meet someone to fill that void.

Quincunx - Originally classified as mildly adverse, the modern tendency is to consider its influence unpredictable and also more powerful than first thought. Semisquare-Mildly adverse. Brings tension that precipitates events but is much less powerful than a square.

Sun- neptune good aspects- Good imagination; artistic potential. Creative self- expression.

Venus- mars easy aspects-Feelings of warmth and affection easily ex- pressed. Enthusiastic. Passionate. Romantic. Venus conj Mars- A sensuous personality. Optimistic outlook. Good balance between charm and aggressiveness. Venus-saturn aspects-these people are very serious in love. They will never cheat you or do something wrong. They are very responsible and trustworthy people. You can always trust them.

Mars- saturn aspects- are very stable and reliable. In this aspect, I always see that the person will be direct with their actions and also show what they want. And they can also have a high value.

Cancer moon people like to be comfortable wherever they are. And let's say if they go to a cafe, they will always make sure that it is comfortable and that there are comfortable chairs to sit on.

Libra rising woman are very loyal and they really put a lot into the relationship and the partner. They are very helpful and compassionate. Libra rising men on the other side can be sometimes very indecisive and take a long time to decide what they want. Also, they can be insecure in themselves and be people pleasers which means that they can also look for validation of others.

Planets in the first house signify energies that become part of the individual's expression of self with regard to others. A concentration of planets here is likely to increase an individual's tendency toward subjectivity. Some planets in the first tend to lessen the degree of emphasis on the self. Neptune, for example, tends to cloud one's awareness of how one projects energies toward others.Such an individual may gain the ability to project multiple personalities such that others never really know who the individual is.

Although houses often seem to symbolize other people and entities, we have already pointed out that they really only symbolize our experience of these things. In other words, houses symbolize on the interpersonal and environmental level our orientations and relationships to these entities.

The third house does not indicate our actual brothers, sisters, and relatives, but rather our relationship to something they have in common, namely, that they are all people in our environment with whom we deal more or less automatically. It also shows the energy of the people you meet who make you feel like you've known them forever.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🪐✨🦋

[llamagoddessofficial]

Nightmare being so restrained AND a closeted romantic immediately gave me the image of him journaling about you. The journal would be somewhat of a legend/myth among the murder time trio (Killer vehemently insists that he caught a glimpse of Nightmare writing by the fire. Dust thinks he's full of shit) but if someone were to look in it they'd find some very detailed writings of your features, behaviors, thoughts about you... maybe some very literal prose. And if he found that person looking in it there would be no evidence that they (or the journal) ever existed

My Nightmare is, deep down, quite artistic. Whilst Dream has an eye for poetry and the written word, Nightmare has always been fond of form and colour. In another life, unburdened by powers and hatred, I imagine he would've lived a quiet and contented life as a locally successful painter.

Alas... this is not that life. He keeps his passions hidden, even from you. So his journal remains locked away in his room.

His journal is a little black leather-bound book, with uneven pages, so thick it needs a ribbon to remain closed.

It's messy. 90% sketches, most unfinished. Some are lit up with watercolours and some aren't. He sketches everything - landscapes, the interior of his castle, his henchmen, his enemies, memories from his childhood. There's one attempted drawing of what he used to look like before being corrupted, but he's covered that one in so much ink it's impossible to even tell what was underneath.

He's good at drawing. I mean really good. Hundreds of years of practise shows. He writes around the drawings, filling pretty much any gap on the paper, and he has excellent handwriting.

It's the only place where he's utterly honest with himself. He talks about his real feelings, his frustrations and desires... his biggest regrets. He bears his Soul, in that little book, because there's nowhere else he can. Not yet.

Just by reading it, you can tell when he meets you. And when he falls for you. It starts out small - just a profile sketch, a 3/4 view of your head from memory, the usual. But then it just continues. Another 3/4 view, more detailed this time. A closeup of your face. There's more you than words on the page. A day when he was clearly fixated on your neck and shoulders because there's three studies in a row. A whole double spread dedicated to a watercolour of you napping by an evening window.

He reminisces for pages about the lives he would've had with you if things had gone differently. A home? A garden? Children? Would he ever have made a good father?

He also talks in great detail about the strength of his feelings for you, and how he isn't even sure what to do with himself anymore.

No one knows about the journal.

... Except Killer.

Killer saw Nightmare writing in it, once, and decided to go snooping through Nightmare's room while he was out. He found the locked box, and the journal.

He took one look at what was inside - and then closed it again and got the fuck out of there. He still acts like he's searching for it because he knows the severity of what he came across. He will never EVER admit he saw it.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"I Read About You in History Books"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Part Two here [Outside of History Books]

Masterlist

Summary: You've always been fascinated by history, especially by the untold stories of people forgotten in the shadow of legends. Bucky Barnes is one of those people.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, Fluff with a dash of angst, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k words

You knew The Winter Soldier. Who didn't? Everyone knew the tales of the most feared assassin in the world. How he appears and disappears like a ghost. How he struck his victims with deadly accuracy and no one could catch him. The man behind the mask intrigued you more, though. It was almost laughable, but to you, The Winter Soldier was older news than James 'Bucky' Barnes.

Meeting Steve Rogers was incredible. It took every professional bone in your body not to jump up and down in excitement. I mean it was the Captain America. How were you not meant to be excited?

You didn't expect to become his friend, to watch his back and have him watch yours. You had been in so many fights besides him and, of course, asked him every question you could think of about his life, the war and especially Bucky Barnes.

Why do you want to know so much about him? He had asked once.

Only the Gods knew the answer.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky Barnes, more than what was in the history books. There was never much about him in anything, always being overshadowed by Steve or the other Howling Commandos. You'd read every account, watched every documentary, pieced together the fragments of his life as if they were a puzzle begging to be solved.

You never expected to meet him. Never expected him to be more than a name in a book or a picture in a documentary. You thought that meeting Steve was miracle enough.

You were quite wrong.

~~~

"Mind if I join you?"

Bucky frowns. "In a stairwell?"

"Well, I usually come here to get some quiet, so yeah, in a stairwell."

Bucky's posture is stiff as he leans back against the cold concrete wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You stand a few steps below him, one hand resting on the metal railing, your head tilted to the side as you study him.

“Quiet, huh?” he asks, his voice a low rasp, still hesitant to engage.

“Yep,” you reply, popping the 'p' with a small grin. “It's one of the few places in this whole compound where no one’s either training, running missions, or asking me a million questions.”

He’s guarded, that much is clear, but there’s something else too. Something underneath the surface, a complexity you’ve always suspected is buried deep within James Buchanan Barnes. You aren’t just interested in The Winter Soldier. You want to know the man beneath that, the person history has barely bothered to document.

“So, what brings you up here?” you ask casually if your presence is the most natural thing in the world.

Bucky glances away for a moment, his jaw clenching. His eyes are distant, but not in the way that screams of danger. More like he’s... lost. "Just needed some space," he finally says.

"I understand that." You slide down onto one of the steps, resting your arms on your knees, looking up at him. "It gets overwhelming, doesn’t it? Always being around people, no room to just... think."

Bucky nods in agreement, his eyes flickering to you.

You decide to take a chance. "I swear this isn’t some weird interrogation or anything, but... I've read about you, in History books. Well, about the Howling Commandos. About you and Steve during the war."

His expression tightens, the walls going higher up than before. "You don't know me—"

"I know," you say quickly, cutting him off. "I know that what’s in those books isn’t the whole story. That’s why I want to know more."

"More?" His gaze sharpens, almost suspicious. "Why?"

You shrug. "I don’t know. Maybe because history’s never the full picture. It’s just pieces, bits of what people decide to write down. I’ve always thought there had to be more to you than just 'Steve’s best friend' or 'The Winter Soldier.' And..." you press your lips together, hesitating, but continue, “...I guess I just want to know who you really are.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, the tension between you thickening with each passing second. His blue eyes are scrutinizing you, searching for something—maybe sincerity, maybe an ulterior motive. You aren’t sure.

"You think you can figure me out?" he finally says, his tone biting, though not as cold as before.

You shake your head. "No... But I think you deserve to be known. Not just as a name in a book or a legend in a file. As, well, you."

His brow furrows, and for the first time since the conversation started, he looks truly unsettled. "What if I don't even know who that is anymore?"

The pain in his voice catches you off guard. For a moment, the Winter Soldier—the assassin, the ghost—seems to fall away, leaving only a man haunted by the weight of his past. And it breaks your heart a little.

"Then maybe I can help you figure it out," you say softly.

Bucky exhales, a sound heavy with the burden of decades he hasn’t asked to carry. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any promises, but he doesn’t leave either. Instead, he slowly lowers himself to sit a few steps above you, the silence between you shifting into something more comfortable.

"Can I be completely honest?" you ask.

"Huh? Yeah?"

"I don't come here for quiet. I lock myself in my room for that. I totally stalked you in here."

Bucky scoffs. "You're probably the nicest stalker I've encountered."

You look up at him, grinning. "Thank you!"

He raises an eyebrow at you but you swear you see a small smile grace his lips.

Maybe this is the beginning of something. Maybe not. Either way, you aren’t about to let him disappear like a ghost again.

Not if you have anything to say about it.

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (1)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

---- part one | next part >>>

You know Kuroo Tetsurou before you officially meet him.

Why? Because he's practically a legend to your current four-year-old who's been talking about him nonstop from the moment you've strapped her into the car on the way back home.

"Apparently he was a--a volleyball champ!" Sakura chimes from the back as you swerve into the right lane in the direction of your tiny flat, "he knows how to serve from faaaar away, and --and when he serves, it's like--kapow! and boom! and whoosh! like that!"

You can't help but laugh because seeing your daughter so excited about volleyball is something you hadn't been expecting, not when you have two left feet and a stamina of a tiny pet rat.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your first week back," you meet her eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile, "that's good isn't it? Better than last year then?"

"Yes! I love Kuroo sensei!"

It seems that this particular teacher has specifically changed Sakura's view on school, and you had made a mental note to thank him.

But all thoughts of thank-yous and praise had flown out of your head the moment you bump into the said PE teacher in the corridor leading up to Sakura's class the next morning.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You cry out, bending down to help him pick up the stack of papers that are now flying about and scattering at your feet, "here, let me help you--"

"It's Kuroo sensei!" Sakura chirps suddenly, causing your eyes to snap up at him.

Oh. So that's the PE teacher she's been gushing about all week. You're quick to shove the papers into a messy pile before handing them out to him, "I'm really sorry about that," you say sheepishly.

"Nothing to worry about," his deep voice is what catches your attention at first, followed by his height as he straightens up so that you get a clear view of his facce; angular features, honey-golden eyes that blink slowly at you in a way that makes you want to squirm, and messy dark raven locks that looks like he's just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.

Not that you won't mind if he rolled out of your bed, you mind chanted without warning.

You stop it as soon as it surfaces, horror and panic crashing into you at the same time. This man is--what? Probably half your age?

"Kuroo sensei! Do we have class with you later?" Sakura, unknowing of all the tormenting thoughts flickering past your brain, seems all too excited to see her PE teacher.

He chuckles lightly before ruffling her short bangs, "not today, little munchkin," he leans down to see her face, "but I'm pretty certain that we have class tomorrow. How about that?"

"Oh really? Yay!" Sakura claps, beaming up at him like he's just put a new sun in her sky, and Kuroo grins before straightening up once more, gold eyes clashing against your dark maroon.

"I don't think we've met," his voice, it's so deep and gravelly that it makes you want to swoon. You snap out of it the moment you spot his outstretched hand, "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, the new PE teacher."

"So you're the new teacher that Sakura's been talking about all this time," you send him a shy smile as you shake his hand, realizing that his palm practically dwarfs yours in comparison, "it's nice to meet you. I'm Sakura's mum. How are you enjoying the school?"

"It's been really great actually," his grin widens. He has a beautiful smile, one that will easily make all the ladies of staff fall at his feet, "I'm slowly finding my way around the timetable, but other than that it's been smooth-sailing till now."

You nod, "that's great. I'm glad to hear," and then turn to your daughter, "you know where your class is right?"

"Of course I know mum," Sakura folds her arms across her chest indignantly.

You laugh, ruffling her hair before ushering her onwards, "alright alright. Yes, you're a big now. Then off you go."

You both watch her teeter down the hall, sometimes almost falling off-balance due to her newly-acquired skill of running with the weight of her bag around her shoulders, and fondness explodes across your chest. It's sweet and bitter at the same time, watching your daughter grow day by day. She's always changing, you realize, every day is a new one, maybe her hair gets longer, or you find a new mole along her face. It's like she's growing so fast you barely have time to savour it.

"Cute kid you have there."

You realize you're not alone upon hearing the familiar scratchy alto, and quickly blink back to reality, "ah--thank you. She can be a handful when she wants. Sometimes."

"All kids are," Kuroo tilts his head towards you, a smile on his face, "but sometimes I think they know more than we do."

You can't help but chortle, "definitely. Sakura's practically a know-it-all. She's in the phase of correcting everything that I say."

"Ooh, a bit bossy huh?"

"Tell me about it."

It's then that the bell rings, disrupting any kind of moment you might have with the PE teacher.

"Anyway," you dip your head into a small bow, "thank you for taking care of Sakura."

"It's really no trouble, miss...?"

"It's Y/N. Y/N Kosuke."

"Y/N," his golden orbs locks on yours, swirling with a kind of playfulness, with a warmth that makes your heart stutter, "well, I shall see you around, Ms. Kosuke-san."

And with that, he swerves away with a small wave as you watch his broad back disappear down the hallway, wondering whether it's stupid to imagine whether he'd winked at you or not.

Probably not.

Because why would anyone be interested in a mom right?

-----

The second time you bump into Kuroo Tetsurou is during Sports Day.

You remember back when you were in high school, how you'd always find an excuse to skip out on the activities -- feigning your period or cramps just to get to the nurse's office and away from your classmates -- just so that you could sit and daydream about anything and just about everything. You weren't that popular in your cohort, making it easy for you to disappear whenever you wished. But despite that, you could count on your hands the number of times you'd replaced someone and failed to deliver, causing wave after wave of disappointment as you lost team points as a result.

But now, as a grown up responsible for a child and always accustomed to doing whatever they liked even if that meant bringing you unhappiness or shame, you were obliged to attend such events. Actually enjoyed being there and watching Sakura giving it her all despite her short limbs and her lack of talent in sports. From what you can see, she clearly hasn't taken from her dad's side. Every single flaw in physical movement comes down from your side of the family and at the thought, a smile curves at the edges of your lips as you proceed to clap even harder.

"Is Papa going to be there tomorrow?" asks your daughter the night before as you're tucking her into bed. Her wide eyes are staring up at you like you're the one who can change anything in her world. And yet, just the thought that you can't grant her this one wish makes your heart quake.

You press a soft kiss along her forehead before smoothing over her features, "i'm sorry honey. I'm not sure if he'll be able to come tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"He has work to do. But he promises to be there this weekend," you try to smile, though it's hard when Sakura's face doesn't light up like it usually does at the mention of her father. That's when you prod, "everything okay, Sakura?"

Your daughter merely turns away to hide her face against her pillow. Her mumble comes out soft and practically a whisper. But you can still hear her loud and clear.

"Why doesn't he ever come?"

Your heart drops to your stomach. You move to hug her, in hopes of appeasing the pain she feels. But she's right, you can't do anything about it. About this. It's a selfish act, the act of divorcing the one whom you thought would've been your lifelong partner till the day you die. And yet, you hadn't been strong enough for her sake.

And Sakura's the one victim to all consequences that follow.

Because how can you tell her? That her father has decided to choose someone else -- another woman, instead of staying by his family and taking on his responsibilities as he should? How could you tell her that her own father has abandoned her?

Sakura isn't stupid. She's well aware of everything that happens around her. But such words coming out of her own mouth causes your own eyes to burn with tears.

"Papa loves you. He's just--busy with work. But you know that he loves you so so much right?" you hope that your murmur is enough to appease her.

And it does, for now.

Sakura snuggles closer to your bosom, small fingers gripping your t-shirt as though she doesn't want you to leave, "will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she murmurs through closed eyelids.

You nod, smooth one hand over her forehead, "yeah. Sleep now, okay? Tomorrow's a big day."

Hence the reason why you're here. Burning under the midday sun. Hat poised over your head, and a piece of stray paper from your office that you're using as a makeshift fan.

Until now, it's proven itself useless in response to the heat.

"Come on, Greens!"

That familiar alto. Raspy and velvet like chocolate. It makes your eyes swipe right to the source only to see none other than the PE coach.

Kuroo Tetsurou is bathed in sweat as he stands by the sidelines, cap over his messy hair and eyes never straying from the row of students balancing potatoes across their tiny spoons. His t-shirt is practically soaked through from the back, showing off his array of muscles twisting and twining like vines around a bark of a tree, and when he crosses his arms over his chest you take note of the swell of his biceps. Taunting, tantalizing.

He's a catch, is what your mind thinks.

You shut it down immediately. What's the point of daydreaming when you're not ready to commit to anything? Not even a fling?

No. You'd much rather stay alone. You know exactly how it feels like to be loved and to lose that love by someone whom you thought had your heart as much as you had his. And you weren't in a rush to fall into that trap once again.

It's finally Sakura's turn and almost subconsciously, you straighten up in the bleachers to get a better look at your daughter all decked in Blue. She's holding out her spoon, tongue sticking out in concentration just as a teacher places a potato right in the middle of it.

Catching your eye from where you sit, she gives you a wide beam, all teeth, and you grin back, doing a silly little wriggle of your fingers. You do the mistake of glancing back towards your right only to meet the PE coach's eyes by mistake.

He grins a Cheshire cat smile, as if he knows that he's been caught but he doesn't care, and your own smile turns shy, ducking your head and soon averting your eyes.

The whistle sounds. The race is on.

"C'mon Sakura!" You yell as loud as you can, watching your daughter waddle in what you hope is a straight line. She's second at this point, trying hard not to lose her potato as her classmate -- a red -- blunders right through without hesitation, "C'mon Sakura! You can do it!"

Your daughter all but wobbles, lips parted in concentration as another boy zooms past. You cup your lips using your hands and shout with all your might, "C'mon Sakura! Faster!"

She finishes in third place, not a bad start for her sports confidence, and comes running straight up to you so that you pick her up with a whoop.

"That's my girl!" You nuzzle into her sweaty hair, "aren't you a big champ?!"

"Did you see mum?! I'm third!" she flaps her arms around, "I'm third! Will I get a medal?!"

"You sure will," you pinch her cheek, "and you did great! I didn't know you were good at balancing potatoes!"

"Next time I'll come in first!"

"Then we'll have to practice at home," you chuckle.

It isn't until the end of the Sports day that Kuroo Tetsurou finds you amidst the horde of parents making their way to the parking lot.

"Hey," he calls out to you as you're opening your trunk. You wave at him, slightly embarrassed as you recall the way he'd locked eyes with you briefly on the field. You strive for nonchalance as you say, "how's it going, coach?"

"Not bad, how about you?" he walks straight up to the car, waving at Sakura from the backseat before turning his attention back on you. You and the multiple bags you're organizing, "what's this?"

"Oh it's for an event," you huff out and pull a bag up into the trunk.

"Here," Kuroo's hand reaches for the next one, "let me help."

"Oh--uhm--" you weren't expecting such chivalry. Heat rises to the back of your neck and you're glad it's a hot summer's day, for you're quite certain your cheeks are flaming, "thank you."

"No problem," he sets the last bag into the trunk, pushing it all the way so that it's secure, "what kind of event is it anyway?"

"It's a corporate event," you explain as he closes the trunk for you, "I'm an event planner."

Something lights up in his golden pupils. He whistles, "haven't heard of that one before," a small smile curves at his lips, "what's the weirdest event you'd had to plan?"

"Oh don't get me started on that," you shudder, "I once had a themed birthday party, but they wanted their party to be set in changing rooms, with the theme 'haunted toilets'."

"Wha--no way," Kuroo bursts out laughing. He has a very nice smile, and a laugh that is contagious. You can't help but grin at him, "is that even legal?"

"Well if they pay you to hire your changing rooms, wouldn't you do it?"

“I suppose so,” you snort, “as long as they pay me.”

He chuckles once more, the sound rumbling through his chest and almost making you swoon. God, he's attractive, even more so when he's all sweaty for some unknown reason.

You hurriedly try to end conversation when you feel your tummy tingle with those familiar butterflies, "well--It was nice meeting you again, Coach."

"Likewise," he tips his head towards you, "and I think you've got yourself a pro athlete back there."

That makes you chortle, "I'm not quite sure, Sakura's been graced with my lack of coordination."

"I wouldn't say so. She came in third, didn't she?"

"You're right," a small smile curves at your lips, "well anyway, thank you. For everything. You're probably exhausted."

"I am, but you're good company," he grins.

Butterflies erupt through your chest and you know without a doubt that this is your cue to leave, and quickly bow to him, "thanks again Coach, see you around."

"See you," a pause, before he adds, "get home safe."

These are simple words, won't that do't matter as much and can be said oh-so-politely. But still, it makes your heart beat so fast you feel it echoing through your chest. You try not to show him your blush as you slide into the driver's seat and watch him raise a hand in mid-wave as you pull out of the parking lot. Sakura waves back with as much excitement and you wonder briefly whether she likes him so much because of the lack of father figure in your household.

Your phone rings then and you scramble for it from the passenger seat, barely able to press down on the green button as you keep your eyes on the road.

"Hello," you place it on loudspeaker and drop it to your lap as you make a turn for the motorway, "hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Oh.

"Papa!" Sakura's exclamation comes from the back, almost makes you skid off the road as you quickly right yourself with a silent curse. Why in the world is he calling now? It's almost like he knows you were having a good time.

"Aoi," your mumble spills out, "how are you?"

"Good, good." a small pause. "how was sports day?"

"Was great, you missed Sakura in her potato-run," you try not to let the bitterness affect your tone, though it's harder to manage than expected, "how was Cali?"

"Very nice actually, Sakura would've loved it. It's warm, with beaches, and people are always doing stuff. It's a nice city."

Of course it's nice when his new wife owns a mansion and no fees are to be paid for the household. Especially nice when his new wife's family has a multi-national jewelry business and a cash flow that seems neverending.

So you cut to the chase, "why'd you call?"

"Jeez y/n," he laughs, "so brutal. Can't I even ask you how you've been?"

"I've been well, so has Sakura," your patience is running thin, "so tell me, why'd you call? Isn't it like midnight over there?"

"Actually it's still morning," there's amusement in his tone, the kind that makes you want to hurl something at him, "but anyway, I was calling to let you know about the papers."

He doesn't have to mention which papers. You know exactly what he's talking about, "what about them?"

"I've already signed them and sent them your way. You should be receiving them by the end of the week."

"Yes, and?"

There's a bout of hesitation from his side, "and I'd appreciate it if you could sign it as quickly as possible."

Another needle to your gut, "that's fine but...why the rush?"

"Ah well," you don't have to see him to know that he's currently scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his whenever he's unsure or nervous. You hate that you know that about him, "we're--we might be getting married in a few months."

You're so shocked you almost barrel straight into the vehicle in front of you.

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