#he threw away his hope of ever being free himself

[adhd-merlin]

me when he

#i think about this scene a normal amount #he threw the entire magic community under the bus. for arthur. #he threw away his hope of ever being free himself #in this moment #don't talk to me #ep 5x05 #merlin memes #merlin

[rafeandonlyrafe]

a bet's a bet

rafe participates in no nut november

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female masturbation (with toys), p in v sex, unprotected sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

nov. 1

“this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.” you cross your arms over your chest, but your boyfriend doesn’t give in, remaining steadfast.

“i already agreed to the bet, baby. you can’t change my mind.” rafe simply says, focusing on looking out the window instead of at you, avoiding your glare.

“i have needs too rafe! i can’t believe you’d agree to this without talking to me first.” you stand up from the couch, tired of this conversation. you grab your laptop and head up to your shared bedroom.

if rafe was going to make a stupid bet to not cum for the entire month of november, then you are at least going to repurchase a vibrator and dildo that rafe threw away when you first started dating, claiming you’d never need them again.

you pay for rush shipping and use rafes credit card, because fuck him.

nov. 3

“come on, just eat my pussy.” you groan, legs spread wide open on the bed, trying to convince rafe to pleasure you, but he just shakes his head no.

“baby, if i eat you out, i’m going to fuck you too. i can’t cum and break the bet, it’s only november 3rd. it’s been three days, we can do this.”

you close your legs as rafe lays down in bed next to you. you shouldn’t even be particularly needy yet. it’s not like you haven’t gone this amount of time before without having sex, but knowing you can’t have him is torture. 

you can’t imagine a world without rafes cock, you’ve gotten so used to being stretched out by him on the regular that an entire month without is giving you withdrawal symptoms, increasing your horniness to unbearable levels.

nov. 5

look what just arrived. you attach a picture of your opened package, pink dildo and vibrator sat inside the box.

rafe reads the message but doesn’t deem you a reply, too busy doing whatever with barry. you honestly doesn’t care as you cunt pulses, needing to feel something inside of it, knowing it won’t be anywhere near as satisfying as rafes cock, but it will do. for now.

you strip yourself free of clothing and lay down on the bed, not even needing to go into the hidden album on your phone of nudes rafe has sent you, or when he snatched your phone off the nightstand and videoed you getting fucked, you simply imagine rafe being there, being the one touching you.

you send snaps to rafe, hoping to entice him into coming home and giving you his cock, but when you send him a video of you coming on the dildo, he simply replies with good try princess.

nov. 6

“aren’t you jealous of my dildo?” you ask, purposely leaving it out on the bed, but rafe doesn’t say a word as he lays down for the night.

“of course i am. this is hell for me too, y/n, but a bet is bet.”

nov. 7

“they won’t even know. just fuck me, i need it.” you whine, rocking against the seat that you’re sat on, not even caring that you’re out on rafes boat, and anyone could see you, not when he’s shirtless, muscles gleaming in the sun, a slight sweat sheening his skin from the high temperature.

“i can’t lie, princess. besides, they’ll know.”

“please, i’m desperate.” you beg, sliding off the stool to sit next to rafe on the captains bench as he effortlessly steers the boat towards deeper water.

“sorry baby.” rafe just tsks.

“can we make out at least? you’ve barely kissed me at all this month.” it’s true, in an effort to keep himself from growing a boner and losing self control, rafe has kept all of your kisses brief.

“fine, but keep your hands away.” rafe says, also missing your lips against his.

you were hoping you could press your body against his, at least get some relief, but rafe does make you keep your distance as your lips glide over his.

nov. 9

“i think this counts as girlfriend cruelty.” you cross your arms over your chest after another unsuccessful attempt at begging rafe to fuck you.

“i’ll make it up with a shopping spree.” rafe offers, and it’s not as good as his dick, but you still agree to it.

nov. 10

“does it feel as good as me?” rafe whispers in your ear, resisting the urge to reach down and help you out as you’re sat on the bed, fucking yourself with your new dildo as he tries to ignore the pulsating erection, forcing himself to think about things that turn him off, even as you’re laid out masturbating in front of him.

“fuck no it doesn’t.” you grunt, desperate for an orgasm even though you hate doing it solo, especially when rafe is right there, able to help. “which is why you should give up on this stupid bet and fuck me. need your cock, baby, i miss it.” “sorry.” rafe kisses your cheek, but still watches you in fascination as you cum.

nov. 12

“miss you.” you tell rafe, snuggling into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you tight to his body as you cuddle, having just enjoyed a lazy day together.

“miss you too baby.” rafe kisses the top of your head, letting his hands touch your, rub over your back, but never venturing into dangerous territory.

“want you so bad.” you complain. you don’t mean to ruin the sweet moment, but you really are beyond desperate for rafe.

“18 more days, we can do it.” rafe says, but you’re really not sure that you can.

nov. 13

“maybe i’ll go sleep with topper.” you say, hands on your hips, finally getting rafes attention as his head snaps up.

“fuck you will not.” he grunts.

“well, this bet is between you topper and kelce, right? maybe i’ll just go make them cum and then you can finally fuck me. i would also get some new dick out of it.” “you’re being a brat.” rafe says, knowing they’re idle threats, there’s no way you’d ever cheat on rafe, you just want to get him to break.

“well what are you going to do?” you taunt. “it’s not like you can punish me.”

rafe just smirks.

nov. 15

“what are you working on?” you ask rafe, placing your hands on his shoulders as he types away on his laptop. you bend down and give him a kiss on the cheek as he hums about whatever project he’s doing. you rub your hands over his shoulders, mumbling something about tension and working too much.

you let your hands move forward against his chest, and then lower and lower, until rafe is pushing your hand away from his crotch.

“come on, please.” you pout.

“you’re halfway there, baby. we can do this. a little bit longer and i’ll make you cum every day in december.” “multiple times a day, i think i’ve earned it.” you argue back.

nov. 16

you’ve had it. you’re sitting watching rafe work out, pussy dripping into you’re underwear, and you’re done with the games and the stupid bet, you’re getting your boyfriend to fuck you today.

you leave the home gym, rafe asking you where you’re going as he lifts the weight, but you ignore him. you head into your bedroom, changing into rafes favorite pair of lingerie and a tall pair of heels that still don’t cause you to reach his height.

you walk back down the stairs, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you reenter the gym.

“fuck, baby, don’t do this to me.” rafe drops his head into his hands, physically unable to look at you.

“no. fuck this bet. it’s so stupid, rafe, i’m about to explode. i need you to fuck me. i don’t care what you lose.” “fine.” rafe says, and you think you misheard him at first.

“what?” you question.

“get the fuck over here before i change my mind, god i need you.” rafe stands, meeting you halfway as your bodies clash, lips pressed hard against each others as you paw at rafes clothes, needing to see him in all his naked glory.

you don’t even care that he’s sweaty from the gym, or that he’s lowering you onto the tiled floor instead of your bed. you’re not going to take the time to move even a foot.

“take your shorts off, fuck.” you groan, hands slipping as you try to push them down his hips. 

rafe pauses his assault on your mouth to push his shoulders and underwear down, his hard cock springing free, tip already leaking with his balls hanging heavy down, filled with need from going without an orgasm for so long.

you pull your underwear to the side, revealing your soaked cunt. all it took was rafe agreeing to have sex that you got a rush of wetness.

rafe doesn’t waste time fingering you to open you up. you’ve been consistent enough with your dildo that it doesn’t hurt at all as he slides in, his warmth pressing against your walls as rafe groans, eyes fluttering shut as he cums before he even gives you one thrust, spurting into your pussy.

it’s too quick for you, but you still moan, clit pulsing as you finally get your boyfriend inside of you again.

“fuck, forgot how fucking tight you are.” rafe moans, and despite just cumming, he begins to snap his hips again already, fucking the cum further into you.

you reach down with one hand to rub your clit, pulling your boobs out of your bra with the other, letting them bounce with every hard thrust rafe delivers, not going easy on you despite it being 16 full days since you last had him.

“never doing no nut november again.” rafe promises you, pressing your lips back together in a searing kiss as you wrap your free arm around his shoulder and pulling him into you, his chest pressing against your sensitive nipples.

“i love your cock so much.” you moan, knowing when this is over you are going right upstairs and throwing that dildo away again.

“cum for me baby.” rafe begs, already feeling a second orgasm build, somehow having more cum to give you.

“yes, rafe!” you shout, back arching up off the floor as you cum, rubbing your clit to completion as rafe finishes inside you again, the excess of cum spilling out even as he keeps himself deep inside of you.

rafe collapses on top of you, twisting to the side so all your weight isn’t on him. he flinches when his bare skin hits the floor. “fuck, it’s cold.”

“it’s tile, dummy.” you giggle, causing rafe to groan when your pussy tightens. “take me upstairs, please.” you press your lips to rafe.

“i need a little bit of a break, baby.” rafe says, and you can tell from the way his cock is steadily softening inside of you.

“nope, you can eat me out until you’re ready to go again. i absolutely deserve this.” rafe laughs softly, “okay, you do.”

nov. 17

“you didn’t tell me this is what you had to do if you lost!” you shout at rafe as he looks at himself in the mirror.

“would it have changed how crazy horny you were?” rafe asks.

“i mean- no.” you sigh. “but you could have told me! i probably could have made it 15 more days if you just fingered me or something!” “do you wanna do it for me or do i have to do it myself?” rafe asks, causing you to snatch the clippers out of his hand.

“i’ll do it.” you run the blade over his head, watching as the gorgeous blond strands of hair fall off your boyfriends head, having to buzz it because he couldn’t resist fucking you for an entire month.

#tumblr has been glitchy with me today so if theres like layout errors im sorry #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagine

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。—will i ever bring you peace? | gojo satoru

wc: 1.4k

summary: gojo can’t give you a quiet life. no matter what. 

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are used, hurt/comfort, jealous!gojo, more of gojo’s internal thoughts, mentions of an oc, gojo deserves all the luvin!!

a/n: split this into two parts: the first half (the prev part), lighter and more central to reader’s perspective, while the second half (this one), darker, and more central to gojo’s perspective. best read after ‘so this is what it means to be in love’ because there are some references made! reading the other parts, while not necessary, will add more to the experience (some references are made)! song i listened to while writing this was peace by taylor swift! 

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5a. this feeling inside of me— <- you are here -> +04. take my time (i'll spend it all on you)

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” 

The pond below you ripples as the koi fish swims away. 

You turn to face Gojo, hands hanging over the bridge railing, remnants of soft youth in his cheeks at 24. 

“I’d say it’s pretty quiet right now.” he answers, signature teasing lilt to his tone. He gestures around him, focusing your attention to how tranquil it is right now—sun beaming and the sound of nature in birds chirping and water trickling.

You roll your eyes; it’s always the distractions and non-answers with him. 

The silence between you is the product of years spent getting closer to reach this point; a silence of knowing that gives Gojo the space and time to reveal things on his own. 

“You already know my answer to that.” he says after a while, looking back down to the pond beneath you. 

And you do—with his small smile, almost resigned. There’s no point thinking about it. Just like when you’d asked him about love. It’s just not meant for him. 

“Would you?” he throws the question back at you, turning to you when he asks it. 

It’s a silly thing, to let hope like this bloom; you both know it’s well past that point now, too deep into chasing his vision for the future of jujutsu society—but it’s free to dream, right?

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.” 

.

.

.

Gojo’s starting to hate that sinking feeling in his stomach lately—knots twisting before they burst into fits of pop! pop! popping!

It’s uncomfortable and annoying, seemingly getting worse the more he sits in these political meetings with you and ‘Kazuo’—or whoever this politican is, pulling your seat for you and making you laugh; the gentleman etiquette. He even lets you call him by his first name. 

There’s a slight tic to Gojo’s brow as he sits across you, leaning on the back of his chair with his arms crossed and leg propped up on the other. Obviously, you’re just being nice, nodding and smiling as you listen to Kazuo run through the document for this meeting beside you. 

But it still makes Gojo ache. 

He hasn’t been to many of these meetings, but he’s gathered enough to know what kind of guy this Kazuo is: well-dressed, good smile, good teeth–all things he has himself–but also, a gentleman, good-natured and hardworking, kind and gentle, and most of all at peace. Rumor has it that he’s looking to settle down soon, away from the politics to a nearby town just on the outskirts of the city—not too far but also not too close.

Seeing you smiling with him now just brings it back, that conversation you had years ago at 24 gnawing at him. 

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” you had asked, and when he threw it back to you—

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.” 

It aches.

.

Gojo waits for you at the end of the meeting, watching as you and Kazuo continue to exchange pleasantries. He knows there isn’t anything to it, but there’s that knot in his stomach again, pop! pop! popping! and it worsens when he hears the secretaries gush about how you and Kazuo look so compatible, perfect—fit to get married. 

How disrespectful to your relationship, Gojo thinks. 

He huffs, quiet enough not to cause a scene but loud enough for you to hear him—to know that he isn’t in the mood for any of this. And in the perfect way you’ve synced yourself to him all these years, you smoothly transition into giving Kazuo your well wishes, accepting his handshake as your eyes meet with Gojo’s for him to do the same. 

When you both step out of the room, you make sure to hold his hand tightly, surely, in all the loving ways, but he grips back only lightly, leaving a small space–that infinity–between your palms on the way back home today. 

.

When Gojo thinks about it, it isn’t even because he’s lacking. He’s worked hard and continues to do so everyday, treating you well, loving you in the ways you deserve. 

But will it truly ever be enough? 

How can it be when you deserve more, so much more than this life you’ve been chained to since you were young?

Jujutsu society has been so rough to the both of you, that he thinks you, out of all people, deserve at the very least, some peace. Now that his vision is turning into a reality, maybe you can take a step back and afford a little more leniency. 

A good life, with a good partner, who will love you in peace. 

Someone like Kazuo.

Not him.

The thought is unusual; Gojo’s never really been one to feel insecure, but he thinks that, when you love someone this much, you’ll always want the best for them, even when you realize that the best might not be synonymous to being yours. 

Gojo can’t give you a quiet life. 

No matter what. 

Who he is is so intrinsically linked to this society and the direction it's taking that it’ll follow him wherever he goes.

He sinks deeper into his pillow. 

“You okay?” you come out of the bathroom, dressed in the matching pajama set you both got a few weeks ago—his, buried somewhere in the mishmash of your laundry clothes.

The thought sears itself into his mind, how your lives now are so intertwined.

He doesn’t answer. 

How can he ever let this go?

It aches. Again. 

The bed dips as you get into it, lifting up the comforter to snuggle into him. His back is facing you, unmoving, but your heart beats against the warmth pressed to your chest. 

You hope he feels it, how it’s for him. 

“Wanna let me in your head a little?” you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your nose at the nape of his neck. You use the same body wash but Gojo has always retained a scent that is distinctly his own—a bit sweet like the strawberries he loves eating and something close to baby powder, as unassuming as it may be. 

His breath hitches before he starts fiddling with your fingers resting on his waist. He’s biting his lips, you know. 

“Do you still want a quiet life?” he mumbles, almost a whisper. You wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so pressed up against him. 

You’re confused, a little shocked, but mostly confused because where did this come from?

Gojo holds his breath, waiting for your answer. He can’t turn to look at you when you do, afraid that what he’ll find—what you’ll want, won’t be something he can give you. 

“Doesn’t sound too bad, I guess.” you answer, lips tickling his skin. He can’t release his breath; it’s the answer he’s been dreading. 

There’s silence, a stretch that feels too long but only spans a few seconds. His mind plays an endless loop; the single thought that that isn’t the life he can give you.

Should he break up with you?

How is he supposed to tell—

“I like this life now better though, with you.” you squeeze him tighter, kissing the side of his neck that you can reach. 

He stiffens in your hold, but you can feel the thrums of his heartbeat. It comes slowly, but he releases the breath he was holding before relaxing a bit, something you hope is from relief.  

“You sure?” he asks, trying to sound teasing, but you hear through it. Of course you do.

“You’ll be stuck with me forever, you know.” 

You can swear he sniffled. 

“Doesn't sound too bad to me.” 

He shifts, turning to face you, and when he sees you—

—it’s like falling in love with you again, he thinks. 

The ache is still there, but it’s different, replaced by something burning, almost bursting; the feelings he can’t contain—he wants to say it: I love you; thank you for loving me, but the words are lodged in his throat and his eyes are watering, collecting like pools of rain along his lash line before spilling. 

Gojo doesn’t cry often, but when he does, you try to kiss away every hurt, every pain, that comes with it. So there, by his eyes, are your lips, soft and tender, kissing away his tears as you cradle him to your chest, letting him hug you for however long he needs to be held like this. 

It’s relief, he wants to tell you, that you don’t have to worry; these are good tears—grateful that he gets to have you in this life because you like it better. 

But there’s no pressure, there never is with you—you’ve always been like that. You don’t question him right now, trusting that he’ll tell you all about it tomorrow like he always does. 

For now, all you want to do is hold him, quiet down all the noise in his head and keep him right by your heart, loving him close.

a/n: the first and second part wouldn’t have fit in tone if i put them in one fic, so i split them! the first part is lighter and just overall good vibes if you're up for that!

thank you notes: to niku @stellamancer for listening to me and being there when i seriously needed it writing this!! & to dilly and somi my bbgirls!! @crysugu @soumies for always cheering me on, especially during the slump!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n

[violentdelights-violentendss]

heyo !! could i get dazai, akutagawa, and fyodor with a reader who is super clingy and just overall loves them? like all over them just constantly hugging them and sitting in their lap and squishing their cheeks. just the couples being lovesick 👀👀👀 tysm !

That’s so cute omggggg!!! Here it is!!! I think this might have been slightly less fluffy than what you had wanted, but I hope it’s still okay…. please feel free to request as much as you want, and don’t hesitate to be specific so I don’t fuck anything up 🥹

(I seriously need to try and write more lighthearted stuff. I feel like everything I write is so SERIOUS)

BSD Men With a Super Clingy S/O

In this post: 🍪 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky 🍪

Synopsis: How would BSD Men react to a super clingy S/O

Ryonosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa never truly understood why you wanted to be so close to him. The first few times you had grabbed his hand or thrown your arms around him in a hug, it’s as if you had hugged a frozen fish. He didn’t know where to put his hands and you had had to tell him it was okay to hug you back. And after time and time again that you threw yourself in his arms, the cold mafioso started responding quicker, wrapping his arms around you, but he still couldn’t truly believe that you wanted to always be touching him, in some way or another, because you truly loved him. He feared he did it not deserve your happy smiles and warmth. But with your ever-present clinginess, Akutagawa slowly accepted the fact that he was loved.

You huffed, bored, throwing your phone away from you. It bounced on the couch pillows, almost tipping over the edge. You barely even looked at it, your eyes now glued to your boyfriend, Akutagawa, who was sitting next to you, focusing on a book. His light eyes concentrated on the story unfolding in front of him, his mind miles away. Akutagawa was immersed in his novel, that he didn’t notice you crawling towards him, a small smile on your lips.

You slowly laid your head on his thigh, inhaling his sweet and familiar scent that had meant home for you. Akutagawa noticed, but didn’t seem to mind, tentatively placing a hand on your head. You stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of his long fingers getting lost in your hair.

You soon started craving more physical contact, as you always did, and gave yourself a gentle push forward, now having your torso lie in his lap. Akutagawa only moved his book to the side to glance at you for a second, before he returned to his story: he was used to you being weird.

Once again, you stayed on his lap for some time, counting how many pages Akutagawa flipped. And then, suddenly, you threw yourself up, sitting in his lap and throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing an avalanche of kisses on his neck.

Akutagawa’s froze, initially, unsure of how to react. His eyes stuck to yours, the silence pressing around you. “What are you doing, (Y/N)?” He asked, staring down at you, his voice harsh. He was somewhat used to you being attached to his hip permanently, always needing to feel his skin on yours, but he still needed some time to adjust. His hands were rigid, frozen, away from your body. You grabbed his stiff arms and wrapped them around your waist.

“I’m cuddling you, what does it look like I’m doing?” You asked, peeking up at him through your lashes. Akutagawa stayed still for a few more interminable seconds, gazing at your loved-filled eyes, before he finally relaxed into your embrace, throwing the book aside. His hug was, initially, tentative, and slowly became stronger, to the point where he was holding you as if his life depended on it.

Akutagawa’s hugs were always like this, and you adored it: it was if he slowly let himself go to the idea of being loved. Yes, you were naturally a clingy person, but you also did it to help Akutagawa’s bruised heart feel all the love he deserved. Maybe the universe, to make up for all the affections he hadn’t received, had sent you and your warm hugs to him. As Akutagawa pressed you tighter against his chest, he could not help the small smile that appeared on his lips.

Osamu Dazai

Dazai was as clingy as you were, sometimes even more than you. He constantly searched for you, holding your hand, or wrapping his arms around you when you two were lying in bed. Anytime he could, he would lift you by the hips and place you snugly in his lap, and keep you there, like a warm koala, as he worked, or well, pretended to work. Whenever you initiated anything, which was almost always, he responded happily: you hugged him first, he hugged you harder. Dazai didn’t want to admit that constantly having to touch you was not only fueled by the disproportionate love he had for you, but also the constant fear that you could be ripped away from him at any moment. Dazai mind also plagued him with the knowledge that you were too good for him; having you constantly search for him, as if he were your oxygen, reassured him more than he would ever admit.

You tried finishing the report you had to hand in by the end of the day, but your mind was just too clouded, and writing a sentence felt like navigating through fog without any guidance. Your eyes kept anxiously sliding down to the clock on your desk: Dazai was coming back from a week-long mission, and you yearned for him. You needed to feel his warmth envelope him in a soul-crushing hug, you needed to feel his cologne, you needed him.

Kunikida, who had been walking past one of the large windows in the ADA office, glanced outside. He turned to look at your hope-filled eyes, and he nodded, a small smile on his usually stoic face.

You stood up so fast your chair toppled over, but you didn’t mind, sprinting down the hallway, almost jumping down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. You threw the front door open, finding Dazai standing there, in all his glory. His warm, brown eyes were tired, and had lost their usual sparkle. But when he saw you, a small smile danced on the corners of his lips. Dazai opened his arms, whispering, “Hello, belladonna.”

You threw yourself in his arms, hiding your face in his neck. “Dazai!” You cried. You felt his bandaged arm fall delicately around your shoulders, pressing you against him. The minute Dazai smelled your sweet perfume, he felt at peace; he knew he was home. The calm he felt when you were squishing him against you in a hug was only proof of what he already knew: you were his North Star, the reason of his existence, the moonlight in his dark life.

Dazai’s head rested against yours, and you could swear was shivering in your arms.

The minute Kunikida called him, leaning from the window, Dazai’s cheerful smile returned with strength, and his tiredness evaporated, his eyes no longer tired, his vulnerability covered by his perpetual joy. He pulled away from you, going to stand underneath the window to chat with his partner, but you knew what he was truly hiding and didn’t let his hand go.

For the rest of the day, you stood next to Dazai, holding his hand or his arm, and when no one was around, you wrapped your boyfriend into hugs, pressing him closer to your heart.

Dazai was used to having some part of his body always be in contact with yours, but today, more than ever, he was thankful that you were clingy, becasue he needed your gentleness and your warmth to not collapse on the ground and start shivering from all the darkness that he hid inside his heart.

After all, your clinginess was his salvation.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Fyodor, before meeting you, had never tolerated anyone barging into his personal space. If anyone suddenly touched him, he would make them pay the price of the disrespect tenfold (Nikolai could personally testify to that). But the minute you and your angelic smiles had stepped into his life, he suddenly had to get used to you constantly touching him, for one reason or the other. His personal space was no longer his, it was yours, and, with a small thump in his heart, he realized he didn’t really mind anymore. His cold body craved your warmth, and, of course, he would never, admit how much he adored your hugs, or the way you constantly needed him for such trivial things. Slowly, your ever constant need to be pressed against him has warmed his heart

Fyodor was sitting in front his computers, the blue light shining on his breathtaking eyes. He was concentrated, his fingers flying on the keyboard. You were observing him from the door, having cracked it open. You were debating whether or not he would mind if you waltzed in and started talking to him.

“Myshka, you’re letting a draft in. Either come in, or come out.” Fyodor’s sharp voice resonated in the room. You flinched: you had been almost positive he hadn’t noticed you, but who were you kidding? This is Fyodor Dostoyevsky you were talking about.

You sighed, slipping in and shutting the door behind you. “Sorry, Fedya.”

“No grave damage was made, my dear. What brings you here?” Fyodor asked, still typing on his keyboard.

“You.” You replied, sauntering over to him, knowing that if he had given you the chance to slip inside, and was engaging in conversation with you, he was okay with getting disturbed. You draped yourself over his shoulder, your face next to his. You kissed his cheek a few times.

“Me?” Fyodor asked, finally turning to look at you, his monitors forgotten for once. “Do you mean my body? If you are aroused, my dear, I fear I can only please you for a short while — ”

“No, not like that!” You chuckled. You gently spun his chair around, making him fully face you. “I just want to be with you!” You said, falling into his arms. Fyodor, who was used to catching you as you threw yourself dramatically in his arms, had already been ready. You giggled like child, looking up at your cold, evil mastermind boyfriend who no longer seemed to react to your behavior. You extend your hands, placing them on his cheeks.

Fyodor furrowed his brows, gazing down at you inquisitively. Before he could ask what you were up to, you smushed his cheeks together, laughing so brightly Fyodor was sure he had fallen even more in love with you, even if he only admitted it to himself with a pinch of annoyance.

No one could have had the honor to smush his cheeks and walk away alive and unharmed, but this was you, his (Y/N), and so he only looked down at you, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. “You look like a chipmunk!” You giggled, moving his cheeks around.

“‘M gld I’muse you drling.” Fyodor spoke, his words pressed together as his cheeks were. The joy that lit your eyes at the simple, childish joke, made Fyodor’s own heart tremble with happiness.

You removed your hands from his cheeks. “Had your Fyodor quota filled, milaya?” Fyodor asked.

“No. I’ll never have my fill.” You smiled at him, pulling yourself up, aided by your boyfriend’s cold hands, to settle comfortably on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck, deciding to stay there a while, closing your eyes to relax.

Fyodor pressed a kiss to your forehead before he returned to his work, a hand slipped inside your shirt, tracing lines on your back.

Fyodor didn’t know when his personal space had become your space as well, but he couldn’t be happier that it had.

#bsd x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryonosuke #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd

[dovahkiin796]

Poppy Playtime: CH 3 (What-if)

John watches in horror as dozens upon dozens of the Mini–Smiling Critters he has been dealing with ever since he found himself in the Playhouse. Crawl out of the walls and toward the hanging DogDay. The giant version of the toy screams out in panic when seeing the little monsters.

"Leave me! Please! Save yourself!" Every fiber of John's being agreed with what the humanoid dog said. But John couldn't get his legs to move.

He was too caught up in the horrific sight to even twitch a finger. But eventually his brain screamed at him to go, and John responded.

Though instead of running away to get to safety. John fired a few flares at the Mini-Smiling Critters. Like the other times they reared back in fright at the bright fireball.

However, this time, not all of them were backing away. Some continued to crawl toward DogDay. Their feral nature being more powerful than their fear. So, with only one option left. John starts bashing away the plush toys with his GrabPack arms.

"What are you doing?!" Asked a confused DogDay. "I told you to leave me!" John ignored him and continued his assault. One of the Smiling Critters manages to get onto DogDay's head, and it seemed it was about to crawl into his head by his large, black eyes,

John stopped this from happening by actually using his own hand to grab it and then punch it in the face with his other hand by turning it into a fist. John heard a sickening crack, but he pressed on and threw the dead thing away.

In quick speed John was able to free the large dog from his straps and have his arms wrap around his neck for support. "You're a fool for doing this. You're going to get yourself killed."

John could only grin. If that was the case, then at least he died trying to save someone. The Mini-Smiling Critters, angry that their food supply was now free. All snarled in anger.

John didn't bother to wait and see what they'll do and ran back the way he came. But when trying to run through the cell doors, wooden planks that were put in place to cover a large hole in the floor. Collapsed by the combined wait of John and DogDay's.

They fell to a floor beneath the holding cells. Clearing his dazed head from the sudden fall. John sees an open tunnel. Up above he can hear the little Critters coming to where he and DogDay fell.

Wasting no time, he crouch runs down the tube till coming to another tunnel and taking it. It was series of running, taking sharps turns, running up ramps, waiting for shutter doors to open up, and taking a slide down. But eventually John spots their salvation. An elevator that was behind a gap that led to a bottomless pit.

Switching to the purple hand and with what little adrenaline he had left in him. John sprints toward the gap, "Hang on! This won't be an easy landing!" Just as his foot touches the purple hand pad. John fires the hand on it and both he and DogDay launch high in the air.

Fortunately for them they were able to make it. Though John ended up not sticking the landing. He lost his footing and fell to the ground. The giant Smiling Critter rolled off of him, only being stopped by the elevator railing.

Without his choice John's body happened to land on his side where his front would be facing the open doorway he just came through. He can see the horde coming for him and DogDay. He wasn't actually sure if they would make the jump or not. He prayed that they didn't. But he wouldn't be able to know as the shutter suddenly closed before any of them could even make the attempt.

From behind the door, he could hear the little beasts roar and snarl in absolute fury. Crashing their little bodies against the metal in hopes of breaking through it.

Though the door wasn't budging in the slightest. Letting out a much-needed sigh of relief. John turns to DogDay to see if he's alright. "Are you ok?" John asked. The Smiling Critter coughs a little before asking why he saved him. John was silent for a few seconds till saying. "Because this place already has enough death occur in it. It needs at least one life that was saved in these walls."

DogDay took a second to digest what he heard. He lets out a ragged snort. "You really are an Angel. Something this place really needs."

John snorts too. "By the way. The name is John." DogDay said the name sounded too generic and will continue to call him Angel. Rolling his eyes. John picks up DogDay and steps onto the elevator and pushes the button. The contraption heading upward that led them to another slide. With no other option they took it, and it actually took them outside the Playhouse.

"It's been so long since I've been outside. I honestly can't believe that I'm truly free." Said DogDay. "Well believe it, you'll no longer be someone's dinner."

After a phone call from Ollie and telling him what to do next. John first takes DogDay to the elevator where Kissy and Poppy were last seen using.

When reaching it John sees the elevator was still raised up. He calls out for either Poppy or Kissy to lower the elevator so DogDay can be safe with them.

For several long seconds he didn't get a reply back. He was worried that maybe they were no longer up there. But his worries were put to rest when he heard and saw the elevator descending.

The elevator finally reached the bottom and John rested DogDay against the railing. "I don't know about this. Can you trust them?" The Smiling Critter asked. A hint of worry in his voice.

Despite what DogDay said to him back at the Playplace about he and Poppy being the only ones to stop the Prototype. John doesn't blame him for it. For years he was at the mercy of toys who he thought were his friends. And after all those years, he's finally free, only be at the mercy to a different set of toys. John reassures him that that they'll keep him safe while he deals with CatNap.

Pressing the button so the elevator can go back up. DogDay says, "Please don't die, Angel. I don't want to lose any more friends in this place."

Promising he won't. John turns around and heads for the counselor's office to bring more power to the generator.

#poppy playtime #dogday #oc #fanfiction #fanfic #poppy playtime chapter 3 #what if #smiling critters

[simp-ly-writes]

Isn't it Obvious?

Ask: Astarion having a crush on an oblivious reader headcanons.

Pairing: Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

Warnings: mentions of jealousy.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, exams are finally done AHHHH!! (now I just have to go to work lol). It's so relieving though- having so much more free time, especially to write- anyways! hope you all enjoy! :) (I am still figuring out how to write headcanons...)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

↳ After the first, rather violent, meeting you both had at the start of your adventures. You chalked the parties vampire spawn's forwardness to him trying to be more friendly to you

↳ You were also quite the flirt of the group yourself- the sarcasm and playfulness of it was a driving factor to your sense of humor towards the camp

↳ Needless to say that if the opportunity arose to spark a comment- you were doing your best lighten the mood and your friends spirits when the world appears to be coming to an end as the team leader

↳ Astarion of course is jealous over the fact that no matter what, you flirted with everyone no matter how dire the situation, place or time. That was supposed to be his thing- or rather his thing with you...

↳ Whatever was this thing with you? Astarion always questions himself- why do you respond and make him blush so heavily against his pale skin, make him shuffle his ruffled collar, yet you never take that confidence of yours to take the next step- did you even want to take the next step- did you even know?

↳ These questions annoyed the vampires spawn so much so that he started to become quite the storm-cloud of the group. Scowl on his face and a bit more violent in battle than usual- almost as if to capture your attention

↳ Oh course he still flirted with you, claiming that the blush on your cheeks was merely a form of revenge to the strings played across his heart- or so he thought...

↳ You were overjoyed that Astarion was always willing to make a rebuttal against your words- it was nice to have someone lightening your day instead of always being the one to do it for everyone else. But that is just what you thought- he was just repaying the favour from the group, so you kept ignoring the growing feelings you had for the pale elf

↳ Eventually, Astarion has had enough of this toying over the line and becomes quite blunt with his flirtations- he uses pet-names in replace of your actual name almost everytime, sits beside you during communal dinners and fights back to back with you. He openly talks about all the night pleasures that could be offered- trying his best to find out what will make you finally understand

↳ Yet you just smile widely, make a joke comment in response before trying someone else from the group into conversation as the elf sighs out dramatically and storms away

↳ You were beginning to grow confused and increasingly worried about Astarions apparent annoyance towards you. The jokes that bonded the two of you throughout your travels were becoming lesser as were the parties willingness to hear your jokes towards them as well- you were despreate to find answers now

↳ Everyone in the camp was sick of your antics, they ended up refusing to respond to your flirtatious comments after receiving the ever-growing glares and side comments from the vampire spawn- they were tired of your cat-and-mouse game

↳ So one night Shadowheart and Wyll have pulled you into a tent and said that you were going on a date (much to your confusion) as they hurriedly prepared you and practically threw you back out

↳ You notice Astarion staring at you in what appeared to be shock as you ask who your date was and made a flirtatious (joking) comment that if that date was him

↳ The shocked face that you pull in return when he laughs loudly into the night sky only to look back and replay with a dramatic yes, yet you feel overwhelmingly relieved as does Astarion when you accept to go out together

↳ "I hope you know, my love..." Astarion trails off as you both are walking back from your date, smiles across both of your faces in the moonlight

↳ "I know- or well now I do" you finish his sentence as he laughs at your reply and you can't help but laugh at your past self as well

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x gn!reader #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #fanfic #fanficiton #headcanon #hedcanons #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x tav!reader #astarion ancunin x tav #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes

[crimsonbubble]

im so in love with your johnshi x reader writing and i just couldn't get this thought out of my head ever since reading your kenshi sento fic so imagine johnny and reader are being bratty and annoying kenshi to the point where he just had enough of their antics and uses his telepathic powers to punish johnny and reader with toys and not allowing them to touch him

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, bondage, gags, voyeurism, masterbation, overstimulation *not proofread, just pure horny

[CHANGING THE IDEA A LITTLE BC I HAD A VISION] and I'm glad that you like my johnshi x reader stuff 👉👈 I have a severe obsession with them

Kenshi had enough of both of you. Hence both you and Johnny being bound and gagged, laid out on the bed to squirm against your confines.

"Eyes on me, you dumb brats." Kenshi sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, his jacket open, shirt buttons hastily undone and his slacks pulled down enough to let his throbbing cock free. The low lighting of the moon, cast shadows along his face, making him look like an intimidating beauty.

You and Johnny could only watch as Kenshi got himself off, his head tilting back as he wrapped his hand around himself. Kenshi let out a low breath, thumbing over the tip. Your body tensed, hole clenching around nothing while incoherencies spilled from beyond the gag.

Kenshi's eyebrows furrowed as he fucked into his hand, his other hand drifting across his throat. Johnny tugged and wiggled around in his restraints, whining as he watched Kenshi stroke himself, his own cock twitching and throbbing between his thighs.

Kenshi made a point to look you in the eyes as he spat into his hand, using his saliva to make the slide easily. The more Kenshi stroked himself, the more restless you and Johnny got. Kenshi dragged his free hand down, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

You and Johnny practically moaned at the sight, squeezing your thighs together to release some pressure. Kenshi took in your stares, his cock pulsing against his palm. A string of breathy curses leaves his lips, his head dipping back as his pace quickens. His hips buck up harshly into his hand, cum pearling at his tip.

Kenshi lets go of himself, taking away that blissful orgasm that you all longed for. The whimpers that he let out only made you throb more. Kenshi brought his hand back down, resuming his quick pace. His stomach tensed, and his chest heaved as he built himself back up again.

Kenshi threw his head back as he came, his seed splattering against his stomach and coating his hand. Johnny's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the sight of Kenshi. The moonlight cast shadows along his toned body, highlighting the mess of his orgasm against his stomach, his chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing, his adams apple bobbing as he took in sharp intakes of air.

Kenshi met your eyes, a faint smirk curling on his face as he wrapped a hand around himself again. "Don't get your hopes up."

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader smut #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 x reader #mk1 x you #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mk x you #johnny cage smut #kenshi takahashi smut #johnshi #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #johnshi x reader

[ikeuverse]

I WANT YOU — p.sunghoon

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, a pinch of angst WC: 4.5k+

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, coming home drunk (being carried, literally), a few swear words. and let me know if I've forgotten anything else.

NOTES: i don't remember ever seeing a story with sunghoon being the best friend in love, so i wanted to write something like this. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing something for him like this.

masterlist

Friday night was the moment when you felt the peak of your tiredness beating against every fiber of your body. Taking off all the clothes you wore to work during that tiring day, getting into the hot shower was the only thing you needed for a moment.

Water on your skin, strawberry-scented soap and shampoo, and a lot of relaxation as soon as you turn off the shower to dry off and look for more comfortable clothes.

"Y/n?" the voice called out from downstairs in the apartment, indicating that your brother had just arrived home.

Putting on your baggy T-shirt followed by your pajama shorts, you went downstairs to meet him in the living room, turning on the television.

"Oh, did you just get out of the shower?" he asked when he turned to you. A smile played on his lips as you smiled back, without much enthusiasm for being completely tired from your exhausting day.

"Do you want something to eat? I'll order—"

"Actually" he interrupted you, walking with you into the kitchen where he leaned against the worktop, "I just came to drop off my backpack and let you know I'm going out with the boys."

Oh, your whisper came out softly, he was still smiling while his hands were flat on the marble in front of him.

"Be careful, please" you asked him "Don't come loaded tonight, okay? Tomorrow you need to study for your final exams."

His smile was contagious. And you felt the weight of your brother's body as he came up to hug you and put his chin on your head.

"I promise I'll take care of myself, okay?"

He didn't take care of himself.

You laughed at the brief thought earlier in the evening as soon as you hung up the phone. On the call, Jay's loud voice was indicating that your brother had already left about fifteen minutes ago with Sunghoon.

Park Sunghoon. That's why he hadn't come to see you that night, he was with your brother in that bar.

Of course. You couldn't just ask your brother's best friend to stay with you, when in fact your brother was a pit of jealousy. So your relationship with Sunghoon had to be a secret from the day you first kissed.

The party was going on and you would never have thought that Park Sunghoon, the high school skater, would have a crush on you. He kissed you. He kissed you so hard until you lost your breath - or until your brother threw you away in your last year before university.

After that, no one ever saw the two of you together again. Meanwhile, on the sly, the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other. The only person who knew about you and Sunghoon was Callie, your best friend, and Jay's girlfriend, your friend and your brother's friend.

She was one of the only female figures completely close to you and your circle of friends, so opening up to her about everything that was going on was almost inevitable.

"He went to take your brother who drank too much" Callie muttered on the other end of the line. "I just got home with Jay and I think tomorrow's studies are going to be postponed."

"Really?" you scratched your temple with your free hand, already imagining the state in which your brother would arrive at the apartment.

You had asked him not to drink so much, but knowing his stubbornness, he certainly wouldn't listen to you like that. So you just shrugged.

"We can set up the session at your place tomorrow, what do you think?" your friend suggested a few minutes later, probably paying attention to the two of you calling and Jay mumbling something incomprehensible on the other end "That way you and Sunghoon can be together a bit more, since today didn't work out" she whispered, knowing that this had happened so that Jay wouldn't hear.

"I'd love to, actually" the sound of the doorknob made you jump up from the sofa, glancing at the door before it opened "They're here, I'm going to help them. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow, kitten" Callie said goodbye and hung up, and just as you did the same to put your cell phone on the coffee table, the door opened.

Your brother was hanging on to one of Sunghoon's shoulders, who was struggling against his weight to stand up. You ran the few steps closer to the two of them, holding back your laughter when your brother raised his head and looked at you with narrowed eyes.

"Y/n?" he looked at you, then at Sunghoon "Are we home?"

"We're home" Sunghoon was panting, holding the other boy's body up high enough.

"Shit Jake, what's gotten into you?" your voice had a worried tone, ignoring Sunghoon's gaze on you the whole time since he closed the door and entered the apartment.

"We bet" he sobbed, disentangling himself from Sunghoon's arms, "and I lost."

He kicked his shoes off his feet, keeping his socks on as he unbuckled his belt, throwing it into a corner of the living room.

"Okay, no naked here" Sunghoon ran up to him and grabbed Jake by the hands "Let's go to your room, you need a shower."

He even tried to deny it and protest, but he knew he wasn't up to it, especially since even you were harder than he was. You almost pushed him into the bedroom with Sunghoon's help.

"But… Wait…" Jake stopped at the door to his bathroom, turning around "You're not going to see me naked, are you?"

"No" Sunghoon laughed, followed by you "I'll just go in, she can sort out your nightclothes, how about that?" his gaze was on you again, and with a nod, you went to Jake's closet to get some clothes.

Your mind must have been wandering as you picked out something for your brother. Sunghoon was right there, under the same roof as you. It was strange to see him so suddenly, even though you were looking forward to meeting him that day.

It was always a surprise when you saw him because, every moment, Sunghoon was different. Not physically, you mean. But his features. Sometimes he was frustrated about something at work or college. Or even his sleepiness, which made him so cute. You felt like kissing him non-stop when he mumbled into your pillow that he didn't want to leave.

"Have you chosen?" Sunghoon appeared in the bathroom doorway. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his pants were folded to his knees and yet all the fabric of his clothes was wet.

You realized that you had rambled on too long because Jake was already drying himself off while you were singing in the bathroom. Sunghoon just smiled in your direction as you handed him some clothes and he went back into the bathroom.

Less than a few minutes later they were both out. Jake with wet hair and a slightly better appearance. Sunghoon seemed to check the room, seeing the bottle of water that Jake always kept by his bed.

"It's full, he'll be fine" he said as he pointed to the object, you just nodded in agreement.

"Hey man, thanks" Jake yawned as he flopped onto the bed, still feeling everything around him spin. He waved for Sunghoon to come closer and so he did "Without you, I wouldn't be able to get home."

"You know I'm here for anything" Sunghoon smiled at him "Now, go to sleep, I have to go home and check on Heeseung and Jungwon."

Jake muttered something else that neither of you could understand, so all that was left was to agree and say goodnight. Letting your brother know that he would be in the next room if he needed.

You were the last to leave Jake's room, taking another look at your brother's sleepiness, who was now dozing off peacefully and so quickly. It was the effect of the drink that always made him fall asleep so quickly. So as soon as you turned off the lights, you carefully let the door close completely.

Before anything could be said, Sunghoon's hands traveled up to your face and, without effort, he got close enough to touch your lips with his. A slow kiss that tasted of alcohol because you knew he had been drinking too. Maybe not as much as your brother, but still, and that made the kiss taste so sweet on your tongue when you slid it into his mouth.

Kissing Sunghoon was incredible and dangerous at the same time, even more so in front of Jake's room. Knowing that he wouldn't wake up, nothing stopped the chill in your stomach from chasing you, even when Sunghoon pressed his body against yours at the exact moment your back met the wall. You moaned into his mouth, the contact of his fingers against your skin sliding down to your waist, lifting the T-shirt you were wearing to touch you there without warning.

"We… We can't…" you tried to catch your breath as his lips descended to your neck; without leaving a mark, but enough for his tongue to slide against your skin and send shivers down your spine.

"Shit" he cursed in a whisper before giving your neck one last kiss and aligning his face with yours. Leaning our foreheads against each other so he could be close enough to you "I missed you" he confessed.

That little sentence wreaked havoc on your heart, which was beating fast against your chest. You smiled, stealing another kiss from Sunghoon's lips and resting your hands against his face, one on each side.

"I missed you too" you said quietly.

"Leaving Jake was in my plans from the moment he asked me to go to that bar" Sunghoon's voice could only be heard because of how close the two of you were. Otherwise, it would have been difficult to hear him "I should have come to see you before anything else."

"It's okay" you tried to reassure him, leaving a kiss against his jawline "You're here now and I'm glad we were able to meet."

He was more than happy to see you too, and it showed in the bright look he was giving you. The small smile adorning his red lips and the subtle touch on your cheek before Sunghoon moved a little away from your body.

"Now I have to go and check on the boys" he slid his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers in his, "or it'll be dangerous kissing you here."

"Why can Jake see us?" you whispered jokingly.

He moved closer again, brushing his lips against yours as he bent down to meet you.

"Because I can dawdle in your room."

You felt your knees tremble at the intense gaze, the warm breath against your mouth, and the grip of his hands. But he was right. Sunghoon had to leave before it was too late.

"I'll see you tomorrow" he said, kissing you once more before pulling you out into the hallway, out of sight of Jake's bedroom door.

While you walked him to the door, stumbling on the way as you exchanged numerous kisses with him, your brother continued to sleep peacefully in his bed. Not even imagining the scene that was unfolding inside your shared apartment.

Jake thanked Callie for having a brilliant mind and suggesting study time in his apartment – or because she knew Jay's friends well enough to know that they would all be hungover – especially the boy who couldn't even open his eyes properly.

Your brother's head had been lying on your lap since everyone had arrived and gathered in your living room. You hadn't had much interaction with Sunghoon apart from the few minutes Jake had been in the bathroom when Sunghoon arrived, managing to steal a quick kiss from you before sitting down on the other side of the sofa and facing you.

"Man, I don't think I'll ever drink again" Jake whined, looking up to meet your eyes, which had previously been on the notebook you kept for studying.

"You say that every Saturday morning" you said, causing all his friends to laugh.

"You all could have at least taken it easy" Callie finished writing something down in her notebook, looking at Jay who was squinting at his book.

"Yeah, tonight I think we crossed a line" Heeseung almost cried when he felt a twinge in his head.

"How about some coffee?" you suggested.

"We love you more than we love your brother. You know that, don't you?" Jay looked at you with eyes that were so affectionate, but at the same time so pleading, asking you to really make yourself something strong to drink.

"Stay away from her" Jake huffed.

In the middle of the laughter and side conversations, you quickly glanced at Sunghoon to see him already looking at you. With a wink in your direction, you contented yourself with not running to grab him, let alone trying to look so shy at the way he stared at you.

You only came back to reality when you felt Jake get up from your lap and sit down next to you on the sofa while you chatted with the boys.

Study time taking a break for them to reminisce about last night's events. You and Callie just laughing at their antics or how Jungwon had done so badly at the billiards. He and Jake were a team, hence your brother's state last night when he got home, having lost a whole round to Jay and Heeseung, drinking more than he should have.

"But the winner last night was our friend, Sunghoon" you hoped your brother wouldn't notice that the moment Sunghoon's name was mentioned, you stopped typing your report on the laptop in front of you. Looking from the screen to the boy on the other side of the room, you knew he was avoiding you when he cursed your brother.

"Fuck off, Jake. Don't talk nonsense" Sunghoon said.

"Am I lying?" Jake laughed a little, followed by the other boys.

Your gaze quickly fell on Callie. She was already looking between you and Sunghoon, trying to think of something she could do.

"That girl lied when she said she didn't know how to play billiards just so Sunghoon would help her" Jay said nonchalantly, putting his notebook aside and running a hand through his hair.

"I think she was interested in another cue" Heeseung said "Ouch" he shouted as Callie threw a cushion in his direction, hitting him in the face.

Everything seemed too far away as they talked and insisted on talking about Sunghoon and what had happened. You heard enough to know that this subject was the cause of your blurred vision and the burning in your eyes.

It was impossible to type a single word, let alone to know whether they were calling you to a meeting or not. You just looked at Sunghoon, who kept his hands clenched into fists, his gaze on you as he kept himself from getting up from the sofa and walking towards you.

You got up with the excuse that now you could make the coffee they so desperately needed. Sunghoon managed to follow you saying that he would help you since he was the only one in the room who wasn't hungover apart from you and Callie. By some miracle, your brother didn't even object, going back to talking about something when you and Sunghoon disappeared from everyone's view.

"Y/n…" his voice entered your ears like a heartbreaking sound. You didn't turn around immediately, concentrating instead on getting the container from the machine to prepare what you needed "Y/n, please…"

Your work in ignoring him was proving successful. Concentrating on getting the number of cups you needed and putting the coffee you needed in the machine were enough for you not to focus on his presence right behind you. But it all came to nothing when Sunghoon's hands grabbed your waist, pulling you around and turning you to face him.

"Listen to me, please" he asked once again.

"I'm making the coffee" you tried to change the subject, but it was getting harder and harder as his fingers tightened around your waist. Sunghoon looked disappointed and you didn't understand why, after all, you were the one who had heard things that really made your heart sink.

"Absolutely nothing happened in that bar" he began, his hands softening around your waist when he noticed that you had your attention on him "She stood in front of me, asked me to teach her how to play, and when she leaned over the table I walked away. I walked away and—"

"Why are you telling me this?" the image of the events flashed through your mind and made your eyes sting even more. Sunghoon knew you would cry and it killed him inside because he was feeling guilty enough.

"Because you deserve to know."

"Guys" Callie whispered, making you and Sunghoon almost jump in your seats. He turned away from you for a moment, and that was enough for the tears to fall freely down your cheeks "Jake went to the bathroom, but I think he'll be in soon to check on the coffee."

"Thanks for the warning, Callie" Sunghoon thanked. He didn't know if he was worthy of such a thing.

"Can you two finish without me?" your voice was broken and you didn't want to go on, so you quickly walked past Sunghoon and Callie out of the kitchen and straight up to your room.

Your best friend stood there, knowing that Sunghoon had a lot to say. And since you didn't want to hear it now, maybe she could do it in your place if he wanted to tell you right now.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Jake looked at your figure wrapped in the blanket and sitting on the edge of the sofa. You agreed, giving your best smile to your brother as he left a kiss on your forehead and walked out the door.

Counting the weeks you avoided Sunghoon, adding up the times you cried because you refused his calls or didn't want to cross his path when he came to the apartment you shared with your brother. It was painful to have to think about it, even more so because you were in a fucking secret relationship… And why? Because of your brother's idiotic jealousy? Because Sunghoon didn't want to lose Jake's friendship? Or because both you and Sunghoon were cowardly enough not to say anything?

Too many questions and no answers to what you were feeling. That was unfair. So long in hiding to have to end up like that, with him after you and your tears falling every night because you couldn't forget the bloody scene that was described. And what's more, with all his friends - including your brother - commenting with the greatest joy. Of course, none of them knew about you and Sunghoon, but it still hurt. It hurt so much that it suffocated you in a way.

"Fuck" you almost shouted in fright when your phone rang.

Watching the movie credits roll by and noticing that you'd rambled on so long that you hadn't even looked at the ending, but it didn't matter, that comedy had been seen so many times that you'd even memorized the line.

On the second ring, a loud music noise was heard for the first time. You even thought about saying something, maybe they'd hear you, but your best friend's voice was quick enough.

"Y/n? You have to come here" Callie practically shouted to overpower the music, which had worked because you heard her voice so well.

"I told you I don't want to leave…"

"No, you don't understand. You have to, y/n" she emphasized, and something inside you screamed. Jumping up from the sofa and not even knowing why, you ran upstairs to your room.

"What happened?" while you put the call on speaker, looking for an outfit, Callie seemed to be looking for a quiet place to talk to you. Finding the party bathroom, she locked the door behind her to continue the call.

"Well, let's say Sunghoon told your brother about you and him" she said, "and now Jake's furious and swearing to kill him."

You almost tore the T-shirt you were wearing, running to your phone with a hysterical scream.

"He what?" you reached for the handset before taking it in your hands "Shit, shit, shit. What did Sunghoon do?"

"Baby, I don't know. But you need to come quickly."

That's what you'd do, of course. You just didn't know that getting changed in five minutes, ordering an Uber in three, and being at the party in ten minutes would seem like an eternity to you.

Meeting Callie and Jay at the entrance, your friend hugged you quickly while Jay wrapped his arms around your body.

"I'm sorry, please y/n, I'm sorry" Jay said while still hugging you, slowly releasing your body until you could face him.

"For what, exactly?"

"For that stupid thing" he said as he walked you and Callie into the party "If we knew about you two, neither of us would joke about it."

The only thing you could do was agree and lean on one of Jay's arms so as not to get lost in the party. Thanking him for his words that had really made you smile, warming a little of your heart that was getting faster and faster as he guided you and Callie to a more secluded spot.

A corridor illuminated by red and pink lights, hurt your eyes so much that you wondered how people managed to stand there. It was almost impossible to walk past and not get a headache or something.

When you stopped walking, Jay stepped in front of you and you felt Callie's arms intertwine with yours. A way of saying that she was there without saying a word. That's why she was your best friend.

Everything seemed too quiet for your liking. Your eyes traveled from your brother to Sunghoon, neither of them with any bruises or cuts on their faces, everything intact and without any scratches. At least no physical force had been used.

Jake was the first to get up, walking towards you as he watched Callie disentangle herself to get some distance away from you.

"Jake" you called him.

"Y/n" he called back, taking your hand and clearing his throat in the process "I'm an idiot."

"What?" your eyes flicked past him and then to Sunghoon. Your heart raced and your legs trembled at the small smile that adorned your brother's mouth.

"I heard some truths from Sunghoon and I know I was extremely stupid."

"You… You two…"

You looked at Callie and Jay, the two of them close to the others while you were further away with your brother. Only Sunghoon looked at you and Jake.

"We got into a bit of an argument, but it wasn't that big" he said, "Heeseung had the idea for Callie to call you like that or you wouldn't have come to us tonight."

"I'll kill that asshole" you whispered, feeling your eyes fill with tears as Jake pulled you into a hug.

"I'm sorry if everything that happened hurt you, I really am, y/n" he whispered between your hair, wrapping his arms even tighter around you "I let my stupid jealousy speak louder and I didn't realize what was best for you."

"I think I can take care of myself and you can do it with me too, Jake" you whispered back before he pulled away to kiss your forehead "You just don't have to deprive me of a relationship…"

"Did it have to be with one of my best friends?" he whined.

"Of course! She can't do that to anyone else" you and Jake abruptly turned to Sunghoon. He had a faint smile at the corner of his lips as he looked at you both and then fixed his gaze on your face.

"Is this the time I go out and leave you two alone?" Jake asked, seeing you and Sunghoon agree "Okay. I'll be right there, whatever" he nodded, turning away from you and going to find the rest of the group of friends.

Sunghoon moved a little closer, his hands coming out of his pants pockets to reach for your hand and entwine your fingers in his, pulling you closer.

You thought about calling him, saying something or simply cursing him for telling your brother without telling you first. But as soon as his lips touched yours, the softness of his mouth against yours, everything was forgotten.

That's where you had to stay, that's where you belonged from the first kiss you exchanged. Sunghoon knew it too. He was sure that he had found everything he needed from the first moment he saw you, and touched you. He also knew that it would be a huge obstacle to tell Jake and try to get around his enormous jealousy of his little sister. But he didn't know how he'd managed it. The drink might have helped him a little to confess, even though he'd heard Jake swear at him a lot and almost threaten to hit him again.

But it would all be worth it if he had you in the end. He wasn't going to give up and that's what motivated him to do what he did. That's why he was sharing that kiss for the - second - first time in front of everyone.

"Sunghoon" you called after him as you ended the kiss, controlling your breathing as his hands went to your face and caressed your cheeks "Why did you do that? Tell Jake…"

"Because I want you, y/n. Since the first time, I've always wanted you" his voice lowered so that you could hear him, his lips still brushing against yours as he kissed you slowly once more "I was a coward not to tell your brother before and I almost had to lose you to realize it."

"But you didn't lose me, you idiot" his laugh tickled your lips, loving the way he was holding you so precisely.

Sunghoon left one last kiss on your lips before pulling away and entwining your fingers in his, pulling you into the group and sitting back down on the sofa. He pulled you along, and you sat next to him in the circle while smiling contentedly at the happy looks on your friends' faces.

They all shared in the joy of finally being able to see you and Sunghoon together. Jake controlled his jealousy because he trusted his friend enough to take care of his sister.

"You know, I should have taken that bat and hit that girl in the head" Heeseung finished his can of beer after everyone had changed the subject, congratulating you and Sunghoon on the secret that everyone had just discovered, except Callie.

"Heeseung!" Sunghoon laughed, slapping the arm of his friend who was sitting across from him.

"What? It's serious!" he sounded serious, which made you laugh too. Because Heeseung managed to lighten the mood while the conversation took another turn.

Now and then you managed to catch Sunghoon's eyes on you, and this time with the certainty that you could kiss him in front of everyone, without having to hide.

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #enhypen masterlist #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fanfics #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines

[hypnoneghoul]

So in relation to the SWUMMY pic you posted…. Could we have Phantom being a needy little baby and Swiss making him rub himself off against his tummy because Phantoms desperate and Swiss thinks it’s adorable how needy he is….pretty please 🙏🏻

(Also, I live for your writing…and now your art. It’s so beautiful. Thank you for tempting us with it)

- 🪽

this ask hit so hard it took me out of commision for days. I died and came back to life a few times and here I am. I hope I didn't disappoint

740 words, tummy humping (duh), slight degradation

“Awww,” Swiss cooed from his bed. “What happened, baby?”

Disheveled Phantom had just burst through his door, panting. Swiss’ question was rhetorical, everyone with a nose and pair of eyes would know exactly what happened. A heat happened.

He smelled of sex, he was sweaty all over, his pants were tented and adorned with a pretty, not-so-small wet patch at the very front. 

“Please,” the quintessence ghoul breathed out, looking at Swiss with his big and glassy puppy eyes with blown pupils.

“Of course, bug,” he smiled. “Come here.”

Phantom all but threw himself onto the bed with a pleading whine, pawing at Swiss all over with near primal need pouring off of him. The multi ghoul let the other explore for a moment. He let him nuzzle into his neck as he absentmindedly humped his leg. He let him take off his shirt and scrape his teeth against his chest. He let him drool onto his stomach, eyes lit up.

Surprisingly—or maybe not at all—Phantom paused there, not moving downwards in pursuit of what his heat really wanted to get. Swiss chuckled as the quintessence ghoul shoved his face into his belly and inhaled greedily, claws digging into the softness of his hips to hold him where he wanted.

“Cute bug,” Swiss mumbled, putting a big hand on Phantom’s head. He really was cute. “The most adorable little slut.”

“Swissy…” he whined into his skin with tears in his eyes. The multi ghoul wondered what was wetter, his eyes or cock. He tangled his fingers into the sweaty black and white strands on Phantom’s head, scratching at his scalp in a way he knew made the young ghoul melt right away. He moaned prettily, eyes fluttering, and pushed into Swiss’ touch.

“That’s my ghoul.” And for a moment it was good. Phantom humped Swiss’ leg with his face shoved into his belly, whimpering and purring at the same time as the multi ghoul pet him. Heat was brutal, though. It wouldn’t let him stay just like that. Shame.

“S– Swiss, please, not– not here.”

“Then where, baby?” he asked as if the where wasn’t poking him in the shin and making his pant leg sticky.

“I need– it– it hurts,” Phantom cried and finally looked up again. There weren't many things that made Swiss weak, that made him break, but fortunately for the young quintessence ghoul, his eyes were one of those things.

“I know, bug, I know,” he sighed and pulled him up. “Come gimme a kiss.”

Phantom scrambled to obey, sprawling himself over Swiss as he clumsily pressed their lips together. They both moaned into the kiss, licking into each other’s mouths sloppily. They would stay like that—possibly forever—if only not Phantom’s problem. It seemed to be finding a solution on its own, though, and Swiss grinned as he got an idea.

“Like my tummy so much, bug?” he purred into the other’s ear, getting a pretty little noise in return. “Go on, then, baby, rub yourself off against it.”

The multi ghoul smirked, grabbing his pants to help him free his aching cock. Once he did, Phantom pressed himself into his stomach, slicking it up with the copious amounts of pre he was leaking.

The next thing that left Phantom’s mouth along with spit was one of the most wrecked sounds Swiss has ever heard.

“Good,” Swiss praised. The quintessence ghoul’s moans and whimpers were truly a music to his ears. He got so focused on them he barely noticed getting hard himself. It’d be taken care of soon enough.

First, though, Phantom humping his tummy. So pretty, so cute, so desperate.

He was too out of his mind to utter anything more than incoherent babbling and grunts, snapping his hips in short, rabbit-quick thrusts, pre leaking down Swiss’ sides. It took no time at all for the quintessence ghoul’s noises to get louder, to increase in pitch. So worked up since before he even came to the other. “Go on, bug. Just once, come for me like that once and I’ll take care of you. I’ll fuck you stupid, yeah?”

“Y– yeah, please.”

“Then cum for me,” Swiss said and Phantom obliged. He shuddered and whimpered his way through it, clinging to the multi ghoul like a lifeline. He held him tightly, Phantom’s mess getting squished between them. It would get so much more messy soon, but for now...

“Good boy. Now lick it off.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul

[runnning-outof-time]

The Silver Lining | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & daughter!reader

Summary: (Y/N) Shelby's always been the 'forgotten one' in her family, but there may just be a silver lining in all of her suffering.

Warnings: strained familial relationship (father/daughter), mentions of minor character death

Word Count: 1633

A/N: I’m a bit rusty with the daughter!reader stories, so I’m hoping that this is good and was wanted. It’s also a bit of a sad one, but ends happy (or so I think). Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

From when she was young, (Y/N) Shelby wished that she was part of a different family. Not even a different family name; she'd be fine with staying a Shelby...she just wished she would be going home to a different parent; a different father at night.

The only thing that (Y/N) did thank her father for was for taking her in. She'd heard terrible stories of orphanages and what happened within them. The fact that she had a place to call home, when she very easily could not have, made her grateful for that.

Her mother died after childbirth, and that side of the family wanted nothing to do with the baby after it was born, so Tommy Shelby decided to take his daughter into his home, accepting the help of his aunt in raising the child. (Y/N) was grateful for it because it was uncommon for the father to do something like that...most just sent the children away when the mother was out of the picture.

But as time went on it seemed like she was the furthest thing from Tommy's mind. Tommy and his brothers came from the war back differently. (Y/N) was left to be with Polly and Finn as he delved deeply into business, making that the highest importance in his life.

And then he met a woman. Grace Burgess quickly became the apple of Tommy Shelby's eye, putting yet another layer of separation between him and his daughter. (Y/N) was still a child herself when her half-brother, Charlie was born. A part of her felt jealous of the young boy; who seemed to get more attention from her father than she ever did.

At least she had the servants that had been hired on to talk to now, and that her father had thankfully listened and allowed her to have a piano teacher. Tommy never had a problem in monetarily giving (Y/N) what she desired...he just seemed to have no desire in actually bettering his actual relationship with her.

Things sort of plateaued for a bit when the family moved into Arrow House. (Y/N) joined the rest of her family for dinner - because she was expected to - and had free roam of the estate's expensive halls and grounds. Sure, it still hurt that at times she felt like she'd been ostracized from the family...that she didn't fit into the family that her father <wanted> to have. Being able to get lost on her own made up for it in a way.

Things took a sharp turn for the worse when Grace died. Tommy sequestered himself away from everyone in the family, only giving the bare minimum to everything that wasn't business. In a dark, twisted way, (Y/N) was kind of happy that Charlie was now getting a taste of what she'd been dealing with her entire life. But, of course, Tommy eventually began seeking his son out again and having meaningful moments with him, whereas with (Y/N) it just seemed like he was going through the motions; having the necessary conversations with her. The fact that she expected no less from her father scared her slightly...it meant that she was getting used to it.

As she got older, (Y/N) threw herself into her studies. She enjoyed reading and writing, and oftentimes would keep herself busy with either of the two. These two hobbies stuck as she made her way through the schooling system. Another thing that she was thankful for was her father's ever-rising status. He may have not been the most open and willing parent to her, but he did still make sure that she attended the best schools and had all of the proper help that was needed to excel in her studies. It was only what was fit for a Shelby.

As it was nearing the end of her secondary school career, (Y/N) found out that she was at the top of her class. She felt exhilarated by this news, and as soon as she got home, she just had to share it with Lizzie. Lizzie was Tommy's second wife, and the only person who seemed to really, truly care about what (Y/N) was doing. It was because of her that (Y/N) even chose to send out some letters to different universities with the hopes of being accepted into them. Her father was spending more and more time in his office due to his job in Parliament, so even if he had an inkling of interest in the things that his daughter was doing, she wouldn't know it. So she stuck to sharing the news with her step-mother.

One day towards the end of the school year, Frances stopped (Y/N) as she was walking through the front door. "Your father wants to see you in his office," she informed (Y/N), her expression not really giving much away.

Not saying anything, (Y/N) nodded and made her way to her father's office. She knocked on the mahogany door before opening it just enough so that she could peek her head through the door. "Frances told me that you wanted to see me," she announced her presence, hoping that her father would hear her and look up from what he was typing on his typewriter.

"Yes, come," Tommy answered her, waving her into the room with a flick of his wrist, his eyes just barely shifting from the work he was doing.

(Y/N) nodded before she opened the door further so that she could properly enter the room. She closed it behind her before silently moving over to the two armchairs that were sitting, facing his desk. "What is it that you want, dad?" she asked him once she was sitting in one of the chairs.

"It's, uh..." he started, pausing to slide the carriage of the machine back over to the start so that it'd ring out, before he looked over at his daughter. He cleared his throat before continuing, "it's been brought to my attention by this letter here that you have been in correspondence with Oxford." He clasped his hands together on top of what (Y/N) could only guess was said letter as he finished speaking.

The breath got caught in the young woman's throat as she nodded her head, hoping that her voice came out steady when she started to speak. There were no clues as to what her father was feeling or thinking at the moment, and she was preparing herself for the worst. "I applied for their writing program. It's been said that it's one of the best in the country, and I feel that I have what it takes to excel in it," she gave her reasoning behind what she had done. There was no use in denying it, he was the one who brought it up. What she did leave out, though, was that she also applied to this particular university because of the substantial distance that there was between its campus and Arrow House.

Tommy kept his eyes fixed on her as she spoke, listening intently to what she had to say. He didn't respond right away after she was finished. Instead he let silence hang in the air for a moment as he looked away, flipping through the papers that were sitting on his desk. The time felt like it was dragging as (Y/N) waited for what he'd say next.

"This letter was sent in response to what you sent them," he finally told her, holding a stark, white envelope out to her then.

(Y/N) looked at it for a moment before accepting it from him. She tried her best to steady her shaking hands as she went about opening it up and retrieving the letter from inside. She read it over slowly, not wanting to jump ahead of herself. But the first line was all she needed to read: Congratulations, Miss Shelby. It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into our accelerated writing program... She stopped reading there even though there was still a good bit of the letter left. Her jaw went slack as she re-read it a few more times, checking to make sure that what was printed was true.

Tommy knew what the letter held from her reaction alone. "Congratulations, (Y/N)," he offered her his own congratulatory statement.

She looked up when she heard him speak, happy tears stinging the edges of her eyes as everything sunk in. Sure what he'd said wasn't deep or very thought-provoking, but the fact that he'd said something at all was more than enough for her at that moment. "

"I knew that you'd be able to achieve this. You'll do great things, love," he told her, the smallest smile teetering on his lips.

He knew that she didn't need it, but he put in an extra word for her at the registrar’s anyway. It was the least that he could do for her. This would be the silver lining in her bleak life...her opportunity to get so far away from him and the past that he'd given her. She could make a wonderful life for herself once she stepped out from the shadow that was currently hanging over her; that had been hanging over her from the moment she was born.

And so when (Y/N) stood from the chair she was sitting on and stepped around the desk so that she could hug Tommy, he held onto her as tight as she held onto him. They were hugging each other for different reasons, reasons that if you looked at them in such a way, would show that they're actually the same.

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @sunsetbeachesandwriting @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[freminet-writings]

catboy fremni with afab reader during his rut cycle..poor boy just can’t control himself. :< he’s all worked up when u get home, and almost immediately pounces on u !! >_< tackles u to the ground and starts crying because it hurts !! he’s much needier than usual, and twice as whinier ! once u agree to help him with his rut, he practically drools !!! being inside of u is all he’s ever wanted, after all ! (≧◡≦) ♡

first request ! i love love LOVE ur writing by the way, u write him so amazingly well ! there’s a serious lack of fremni writing, so i appreciate u, as many other ppl do ! if u don’t like this request, pls feel free to ignore !! remember 2 stay hydrated n eat well, and take time to rest !! (=^ ◡ ^=)

eek tysm 😭😭 i hope you guys are also all good and hydrated amd also eating well!!

i'm at a new year's celebration and I'm writing catboy smut omg😭

poor freminet who was all alone sitting at the couch, shaking so hard as he resisted the urge to touch himself, because he knew it would only leave him disappointed and unsatisfied, his ears and tail twitching all over the place as he rubbed his thighs together

until his nose twitched as he smelled you at the door,the second you came inside he threw himself at you while whimpering, making you lose your balance and tumble down "what the- freminet?? uh, what's wrong?" you asked, noticing the way his eyes rolled back as he inhaled your scent

"ah, please please please please! it's too much, too much...i need you so badly! pleaseeee!" you've never heard him speak in such a....whiny tone before, but based on the pile of your clothes on the couch,you could probably guess what's got him feeling this way, that and the way his hard cock is perched against your thigh

"y-y/nnn...." he sniffled, he was really crying "please...it hurtss,i need your help..." with the tears on his face and his adorable little frown, how could you say no? "...okay, I'll help you, since you're that- mnph!"

he kissed you without hesitation, he was practically drooling as he made out with you, the position from the floor was not working for you, so you pushed him away softly even though he looked at you so sadly and it broke your heart "nonono, I'm not stopping you, let's just get somewhere more comfortable okay?"

he made a small noise but didn't protest much, he just held you up and spirited over to your room, the fast pace catching you off guard but you chuckled, he was really that desperate for it, pushing you to the bed and resuming his kiss, with his cock positioned on your clothed entrance, he grinded softly and whined before going faster

"aah.... hng, oh, god...i need this, i need it...aah!" he moaned louder as you touched his tail, feeling more sensitive than ever as you stroked up and down, his back arching with his eyes wide, feeling like he could cum just from that

"I'm gonna....cum if you keep touching me like that" he whimpered "aah...fuck... I'm really going to..." he shuddered as you continued your strokes, effectively increasing his sensitivity and need, his cum dripped onto your thighs as he moaned and squirmed above you

"s-stop... it's too much...nggh... please~! i need to be inside of you, please please..." you stopped after a few more strokes just to make him whine a little more, you switched your positions so he was under you instead, his breathing becoming stuttered as you lowered yourself onto his cock

feeling himself sink into your wetness made him throw his head back with a satisfied moan, looking up at you as you moved your hips so deliciously against him, still so sensitive from his last orgasm his moans were stained and even more whiny

"oh god...nggh...you feel even better than i imagined...aahng!" the way you moved up and down on his already sensitive cock made him feel the effects of his rut increase, he thrusted up into you, and despite being so into his own desires he still hooked a arm around your waist and used his other hand to rub at your clit, albeit sloppy

his back arched as he came again, shooting his seed inside of you and all he could think about was fucking it into you, with his legs shaking he pushed you down making you let out a surprised squeak, pushing you into the bed as he thrusted deeper into you

the noise of skin clapping and the wetness of his cock thrusting into your pussy was the only thing you could hear, as well as your moans while his fingers touched your clit as he thrusted and groaned

"o-ohh, god... you're so..." he didn't finish his sentence, just kissing you sloppily as spit gathered around your mouth, your moans being swallowed into each other's mouths "are you close? please, cum for me...i wanna see how good this is for you" he whined softly as his thrusts became faster, feeling himself on the edge

your hand gripped his ear as you came, your rough grip on him making him whimper and still his hips as he came again, twitching as his cum poured out, he breathed heavily and collapsed on top of you

his ear twitched as he leaned his head into your neck and nuzzled you, no words were exchanged as he purred, his soft purs luring the both of you into a sleepy state, he moved only to take himself out of you and cuddled you closer, he knew this wasn't the end of it, but a little nap and going right back at it sounded great to him

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact smut #freminet x reader #freminet x female reader #freminet smut

[squirmhoney]

Hiya can I have request/idea. Aemond visiting sister!reader's room for a innocent reason but she's wearing an revealing night gown. And it ends up with smut maybe breeding kink and/or possessive. Thank you xx

A/N: I really hope you like this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m actually quite proud of this one. I also hope the warnings are not too much for you. I’ve edited this once but there might still be grammar errors.

Warnings: Incest. 18+. Dub con. Non con. Breeding kink.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (sister)

You’re his

With the nights of you being away to visit Dorne, Aemond could barely sleep. He practically tried to come up with every possible excuse for you not to leave. However, your mother and Grandfather wanted this alliance more than anything else. Knowing that with your return you'd probably come back with a proposal that he couldn't bear to hear. Which ever prince of Dorne tried to make their claim to you, it wouldn’t matter to him. You were a Targaryen and you were meant to be with your own blood. You were meant to be with him.

He turned to look out the window of his room noticing that your ship had already boarded into the docks. Immediately he left his chambers and stormed the castle walls to your own. He needed to know you had returned safely.

When he reached your chambers, he was surprised to see there wasn't a knight by your door. He opened the door and was instantly greeted with the scent of vanilla. He closed his eye as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of you relaxing slightly as he knew you were near.

"Aemond," your soft voice called out to him.

His eye opened to you running towards him as you wrapped your arms around him. He bent down to wrap his arms around you as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"I've missed you dear brother," you confessed, pressing your body to his. "Never allow mother to send me away again for so long."

"Trust me I won't," he muttered into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there before letting you go.

You stepped away from him and in the dim candlelight he gazed down at your night gown. It was low cut and the thinnest of materials practically laying you bare before him. He could see the colour of your nipples and how they had perked in hardness from his touch.

"What is this?" He questioned, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"It's a Dornish night gown," you told him.

His teeth gritted slightly at the thought of anyone else being able to see you in this. His fingers traced the material as his finger brushed over your nipple making your breath hitch in your throat.

"This is a cloth," he commented.

"It's very hot in Dorne, brother." You hands reached out to massage his chest as you leaned into his touch. "It would be hard to sleep with something if it wasn't this thin."

His eyes were dilated as he stared at your body with a dark gaze. His hand pushed the material off your shoulders, and it dropped to the floor leaving you bare before him.

"Aemond," you squealed as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

"It's practically the same," he taunted smirking down at you. "In fact, I like this better."

He picked you up swiftly and threw you onto the bed. You crawled backwards away from him unsure what game he was playing it.

"Aemond," you warned as he stripped himself of his clothes before you. His hard cock sprung free as he released it from his trousers. You gulped and shook your head at him. "What are you playing at Aemond?"

He doesn't answer but continues to smirk at you with that shit eating grin. His hand swiped at your ankle as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. Your fingers dug deep into the sheets as he dragged you down the bed. Your cunt hits his legs, and your wetness instantly slaps onto his mid-drift.

"You're already wet, sister," he hummed in delight, kneeling down at edge of the bed. His tight grip around your thighs kept your legs open and spread and made you unable to move from your position. Before you knew it his tongue was caressing the subtle skin of your thighs.

"No," you whimper, pushing your hand against his head to stop him from reaching downwards. His hand reached for the cloth of your dress on the floor. Once he reached you again his hands snatched yours tying them together behind your back. 

"I need to make sure you and the whole of the seven kingdoms knows that you're mine," he hissed. "And I know just the way."

Aemond settled down back between your legs. Angrily he shoved your thighs over his shoulders as he dipped down between them. His breath fanned against your sensitive cunt making you grow even wetter at the sensation. Aemond flattened his tongue against your folds, lapping the smooth skin of your lips. He hummed at the taste of your juices that slipped from your hole. His nose bumped against your clit, and you let out a gentle whine.

He could sense how much you needed him. The essence of it dripped onto his tongue as you lifted your hips up to his mouth. As much as you pleaded for him to stop you were biting back moans as he ignored you.

His tongue teased you as it grazed your clit. Never fully staying there as he brushed against it again and again. This is what you deserved for leaving him to go to Dorne. Why should he be so kind to you after your departure?

You hated how much you loved it. You wanted him to stop knowing how wrong this really was. But as much as you wanted him to stop you wanted him to continue.

Aemond fingers breached your entrance. That hole that belonged just to him. No one was ever allowed to touch you here or ever to be able to feel these walls. His fingers slid in, and your walls instantly clenched around him. He was harsh as he forced them in and out quickly. His tongue moved up to circle your bundle of nerves earning a loud moan from you.

Gods he was good at this. Everything about this was having you squirming before him.

He could tell you were getting close as your thighs tried to clench around his face. His tongue dug in further as he drank your juices until you were on the very brink, and then he stopped.

Your cunt clenched around the air as he withdrew his fingers leaving with you a desperate need for release between your legs.

"Gods," you whined out at him wanting him to continue.

"Now you want me," he chuckled menacingly, his hand slapped down against your cunt in a harsh manner. Your legs squirmed from the movement as you felt yourself clench again.

Aemond hovered over you. He shoved his lips onto yours in a reluctant kiss. His hand reached down as you felt his hardened cock slide between your folds. You moaned at the sensation wanting nothing more for him to slip into you.

"Aemond, please don't do this," you pleaded knowing how bad this would be for both of you.

His cock inched slightly into your hole and your walls gladly accepted it. However, your body squirmed away as you tried to reject him.

"Why?" He growled as he glared down at you. "Did one of those twats of Dorne offer you a marriage proposal then?"

"No," you answered shaking your head.

"Good." He slammed his hips down to yours. His cock instantly being pushed into your walls with a terrible sting. He savoured the feeling of your tight walls as he started to pound himself into you.

"It hurts," you cried, a burning sensation filled your cunt as he took you. Your eyes glossed over slightly as you gazed up at him.

"You made me do this," he groaned, snapping his hips towards yours. His hand grabbed your chin harshly as he made you look at him. "I'm doing this because of you, sister."

Eventually, your juices coat his cock and the feeling of pain fades as pleasure takes over you. Your unable to stop yourself from the moans that slipped from your mouth. Your hips begun to roll up into his seeking more friction from him.

Your walls practically closed around him holding him tight. His hand moved down as he fingers found your clit. He rubbed harsh circles into it making your walls squeeze around him even more if that was possible.

"I'm going to breed you sweet sister," he groaned as he pumped himself relentlessly into you. "I'll keep at it all night to make sure my seed takes. Then when your belly swells with my child no one will be able to take you from me."

You couldn't speak as pure pleasure took over you. The words filled you with dread, but nothing reached your tongue except his name as you stared up at him.

He bent his head down slightly to get a good look at how your cunt swallowed his cock. Surely you were made just for him. Your bodies moulded together as one.

Within moments your walls clench around him like never before as they pulsated. Your orgasm washed over you completely and the way your walls gripped his cock made Aemond cum himself. He made sure that his seed splashed deep into your walls as he came.

"You take me so fucking well," he moaned, making sure to not waste a single drop as he pumped into you. His pace got sloppy as he withdrew himself from you.

Instantly he pressed his fingers back into your cunt shoving the cum that slipped out back into your walls. His fingers started a new pace not allowing you a break as his body dropped on top of you.

"Gods Aemond," you whined out. Your cunt still feeling sore from the onslaught you had just barely come down from. "I don't think I can take anymore."

"You will," he hissed into your ear. His thumb reached over to your clit as he pushed down onto it. Not long before you orgasmed again as you slipped into a bliss you never knew existed.

"Aemond it's too much," you whimpered, your thighs clenching around his hands as your squirmed from your second orgasm.

"You're going to be my good sister all night," he told you, his fingers still deep in your cunt. "I'm going to breed you all night. How ever I see fit. Do you understand?"

You nodded meekly. "Yes, Aemond."

You knew you had no way out of it but as you felt his cock hardening already against your hip, you weren't sure if you wanted a way out of it.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut

[mncxbe]

aku x virgin female reader? 👉👈

OH my goodness yes- I inhaled your request. Here it is hope you enjoy it♡ I actually made Aku a soft dom for once^^

𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚♡

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smutty smut♡/ pussydrunk Aku

You've been in a relationship with Akutagawa for close to a year now and between the two of you, you were the more experienced one; from all points of view.

You were the one who helped him open up about his issues, who had a mature approach whenever his bad temper got the best of him- which would've otherwise ended up with him accidently starting a conflict- who taught him how to love and allow himself to feel loved. There was no aspect of your relationship that he was "better" at. Or so he thought.

One Sunday morning, one of the rare occasions when he wasn't summoned for work, you plopped yourself beside him on the linen couch; chunky cup of coffee held tightly in one hand as you pried your book open with the other. A soft chuckle rolled past your boyfriend's lips as he watched you struggle to turn the smooth pages.

As if sensing his eye on you your gaze playfully drifted to the side, meeting his for a brief second.

"What?" you asked, voice laced with honey as you quirked a brow.

"Nothing. Just looking at you. Can't I look at my sweet girlfriend?" His tone mimicked your own, causing you to giggle. You weren't used to your boyfriend being in such a playful mood; maybe it was the early hour or the fact that he finally had a free day, away from the stress caused by work, but you swore you could get used to this.

You held his gaze for a moment, teeth lightly nipping at your bottom lip as you rose the mug to your lips and took a sip of your coffee.

Just when Akutagawa thought you weren't going to add anything, returning his focus on the glowing screen of his phone, you spoke up.

"You're not a virgin, right?"

Your boyfriend was obviously taken aback by your question; his eyes snapped back at you and he coughed, levelling his voice.

"Come again?"

"I asked if you were a virgin? Like you know, if you fucked anyone before me."

There it was, that colourful language of yours that he still wasn't fully used to. Although surprised by your inquiry, the matter of fact tone of your voice completely threw him off.

"I know what a virgin is Y/N. And yea, I've been with other people before on occasion. Why do you-"

And then it hit him.

"Wait, you're a virgin!?" he voiced, eyes widening in surprise as you slowly nodded. He'd always assumed you've had sex before; you never shied away from intimacy, always willing to land him a helping hand when he was in need- or your sweet mouth. And thruthfully there hasn't been a time when you didn't manage to coax his orgasm in a matter of minutes; you just did too good of a job. Naturally, he thought you were experienced.

The thought of being your first fueled Akutagawa with a burning desire. Naturally, he was already looking forward to having sex with you, but being your first time ever? Being one step ahead with something? Getting to experience this moment with you?~ it was like his prayers were being answered. It was his chance to prove himself to you.

Lips curling into an amused smile, his slender fingers trailed up your thigh, drawing loose, soothing circles on your skin.

"Well, whenever you wanna do it just let me know. I promise it'll be okay, you can trust me with this" he reassured you, giving your thigh a squeeze.

You only nodded in response and without wasting a second set down the coffee cup by the foot of the couch.

"Okay. Let's do it now."

"Wait now, now? Like..."

"Yea, silly." you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you moved closer to him. Your boyfriend discarded his phone on the little wooden table beside the couch and shifted, allowing you to crawl onto his lap. His lips found yours, fingers tangling in your silky locks to deepen the kiss.

Your palms came to rest on his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his muscles when you felt his ice cold hands slipping under your tank top, gently sliding up your bare back.

When you pushed yourself flush against him, soft chest pressed snuggly against his, Akutagawa let out a low moan. He moved your panties aside and dipped two fingers into your sopping cunt, gently working you open for him.

A whine rolled past your lips at the sudden intrusion and you rose our hips but he quickly guided you back down on his fingers.

"Just take it f'me ok?" he mumbled between kisses and you nodded, earning a shower of praises from him. And oh, how well he knew how his words affected you, how you clenched like a vice around his fingers whenever he called you his good girl, his sweet angel.

After a few minutes the aching in his cock became unbearable. Sliding his shorts off his hips he tossed them on the ground before taking himself out of his underwear.

"So, how do you wanna do this babe?" he asked, feigning a nonchalant attitude as he traced his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading precum on the tip.

You took off your soaked lingerie, straddling his hips. "Think I wanna take it at my own pace for now. Is it ok?"

"Of course. Go ahead" he nodded, helping you allign his cock to your entrance before slowly sinking low until he bottomed out.

It took all the self restraint he had for Akutagawa not to cum the second your gummy walls wrapped around him, squeezing him like a vice.

"God baby you're so tight f-fuck" he groaned, eyelids fluttering; his hands took a gentle hold of your hips, waiting for a sign from you.

The stretch was more intense than you imagined, his dick splitting you open so well. Heat pooled into your core and you eventually started rolling your hips against his.

Choked moans and whines rolled past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Your boyfriend's grip on your waist tightened as he guided your motions.

"You just enjoy it dear. Gonna take good care of you" he babbled out and you allowed yourself to relax under his touch.

Akutagawa was doing his best to hold back, to take you easy and treat you softly; but the more you tightened around him, the harder it was. The cocktail of pleasure building up inside him was only increased by your actions; one shot of you moaning out his name like your only prayer, two shots of your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your skull as you fiercly dug your nails into his chest, leaving burning marks. An ounce of you bouncing on his dick, pretty tits squeezed by your lace trimmed tank top

He suddenly flipped you over, pushing your head into the arm of the mattress as his other hand hoisted up your hips.

"Ryuu what're you~" you mewled but were cut off by his deep thrust.

His words were slurred as he picked up the pace, ramming himself into your sopping hole "Shh baby just wanna take you like this oH god..."

The new position allowed him to reach your sweetest spots. Each of his thrusts was pure extasy, a drug you swore you could get hooked on; his hips smacking against your ass as pushed you closer to your release. Your manicured nails clawed at the linen armrest, rubbing against the rough material, lightly heating up the tips of your fingers.

"Fuck baby I'm gonna cum" you cried out, tears pooling at your lashline as you squeezing your eyes shut.

Akuatagwa's fingers slid between yours, gripping the back of your hand.

"Go ahead 'n cum pretty. Make a mess on me mkay?"

And then you came hard; your walls clenched around his cock, milking him of all he's worth as he let out a shaky groan. Your hand grew limp in his and you slowly closed your eyes.

When he eventually pulled out and tucked himself back in his slacks, a worried look painted itself on his face.

"Y/N are you ok?" he asked softly, leaning over your frame to brush a few stray strands of hair from your damp forehead only to reveal your impish smile.

"Yea... I feel amazing" you cooed, earning a giggle from him.

"Guess I tired you out, pretty."

Nodding, you dangled your arm off the side of the couch as you made space for him to join you.

"Come and rest with me for a while"

Your boyfried complied and, with a smile, cuddled himself up against you, relishing the heat and softness of your body and you both fell asleep; just when the sun was starting to shine its honeyed rays through the living room's tinted windows.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x you #akutagawa smut

[its-vannah]

Another Love | Graham Dunne x Reader

Request from anonymous: more graham and reader with probs the inspo being the weezer song (I just threw out the love of my dreams)/ an unrequited love

A/N: This was so hard to write. It drained me, but I'm happy with the end product. There's no happy ending in this one, really onlt angst. Hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to request more. I write for Graham, Eddie, and Warren.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs (mescaline), unrequited love, implied sex, blood, profanities

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Part One | Part Two| Part Three

Unrequited love. The leading cause of heartbreak not only in America, but in the rest of the world, too. It's that feeling in the pit of your stomach that sits there and never really goes away, no matter how many times you try to stop thinking about it. It plagues you, haunting every memory you have. You're left to wonder what could have been if, how things could have been different if. It's always an "if", always ending in a question mark and not a period.

You're love for Graham Dunne had never wavered in the twenty two years you had been in love with him. Not when he took your hand and guided you around the neighborhood because he was your fiercest, if not smallest, protector. It only grew when the two of you kissed each other under the bleachers at a high school football game, getting it out of the way with "no strings attached" before you opened yourselves up for dating. It didn't stop when he got his first girlfriend and you were left thirdwheeling. It didn't even begin to fade when he moved out to LA to pursue music while you stayed behind in Pittsburgh, destined for a typical 9-5 job.

Graham had his fair share of girlfriends, especially after The Dunne Brothers was formed. His role in the band, while not as popular as Billy, was prominent. He was cute, naive. But apparently so were you.

When you had heard the news that the band was on tour, set to stop in Pittsburgh, you reached out to Camila to confirm if it was really them. Of course, you had every album they had released, including 7,8,9—their newest.

"Camila," You had said into your phone, twisting the cord around your fingers, "Have they changed any since I last saw them? It's been, what, a couple years now, hasn't it?"

She sighed into the phone, "Other than Billy and I being parents? No, I don't think so. Warren is the same as ever, Eddie's a little more irritiable though. You'll meet Karen, she's got a no bullshit attitude. You'll love her. Your Graham still looks like a deer in headlights anytime he sees a pretty girl."

"Got it. And you? Are you coming?" You asked, hopeful you'd be able to see her again after so long.

"I'm going to try. I'll have to take Julia with me, though. It won't be easy, I'm a few months pregnant, Y/N."

Eyes widening, you smiled, "Oh, Cami, congratulations."

"Thank you, really, it's been hard being away from family. But I've got Billy and the boys, Karen, too, so it's not all bad. They're excited to see you, Y/N. Especially Graham. He hadn't stopped telling everyone about you since they scheduled Pittsburgh on the tour."

"He's been talking about me?"

She laughed on the other end of the phone, "Everyone already knows you, except for Daisy. But he can't help himself. He's like a kid on Christmas, dying to see you."

Trying to steady your breathing, you took a deeo breath, "Well, I'll see you guys in a few weeks, then. Keep me posted on how you're doing, though. Being pregnant on the road can't be easy."

"I will, Y/N," She said, "We'll see you soon. Julia, can you say bye to Y/N?"

"Bye bye!" A smile voice said on the other end of the phone.

Your heart melted a bit, "Bye Cami, bye Julia. See you soon."

With that, you hung up, your heart beating out of your chest.

You only had to wait a few more weeks before you saw him. It shouldn't be that hard.

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

You met with the band at the concert venue, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bix of Graham's favorite chocolates in the other.

As soon as the van doors opened, Eddie opened the passenger door, sliding out onto the pavement. The two of you had known each other since middle school, but it was hard to believe it was him. He had changed. He had grown into his body, looking more confident than he had in the eighth grade.

He gave you a warm smile, pulling you into a side hug, "How are you, Y/N?"

"I'm doing good, just glad to see you guys. And you, you're doing good?"

"Couldn't be happier," He said, his smile faltering slightly as he spoke. Something had happened, you just weren't sure what it was.

Billy was the next out, helping a pregnant Camilla out of the van with one hand, his other supporting Julia.

Camilla waddled towards you, arms out before you could even say hello. Taking her daughter from her husband, she introduced her to you with a big smile.

Kneeling down, you handed Julia the small bouquet of flowers, "These are for you and your mama, Julia."

The girl gasped, hugging them to her chest as she looked up at her mother, jumping excitedly.

Camila mouthed a "thank you" and then looked back at Graham, who stood still, his eyes locked on yours.

Giving you a wink, she picked Julia up and followed Billy to scout out the venue.

As soon as she stepped to the side, you were being scooped up by Graham. He twirled you around, squeezing you so tight you found it hard to breathe.

When he finally set you down, you grabbed his arms for support, laughing at his straight-forwardness.

"It's good to see you, too, Graham," You said, pulling him in for another hug, "It's been too long. Pittsburgh isn't the same without it's favorite Dunne."

"I don't think I'm the favorite Dunne," He said, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

You shrugged, "Maybe not, but you're my favorite."

"Then that's all that matters."

From the side of the van, a woman cleared her throat, looking expectantly at Graham to introduce her.

"Oh! Y/N, this is Karen, our keyboardist. She's British."

Karen stepped forward, nodding to you with a smile before looking at the younger Dunne, "Are those the only words you could think of to describe me?"

"I was put on the spot."

"And how would you describe her?"

Graham smiled, "Karen, this is my best friend in the whole world. We've known each other since we were in diapers."

Coming from the driver's side of the van, Warren walked towards you with outstretched arms, "Pears!"

"Pears?" Karen asked, looking at the drummer.

"Peaches and pears," Warren explained, nodding towards you and Graham, "Had to find some way to embarrass them, Karen Karen."

"Alright," She laughed, "How much mescaline have you had today, Rojas?"

He shrugged, "Enough to make the drive fun."

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

At dinner that night, you were seated next to Graham, and across from Eddie and Camila.

"So, Y/N/N, what have you been up to? Still in school?"

"No, I graduated in May, actually. I start my new job next week."

He clapped your back, "No way! Congrats, Y/N/N. I wish I could've been there to see your graduation."

"It's all good. I've been busy, anyway. What about you guys? Anything planned for after the tour?"

Graham nodded, taking a bite of his food, "Something big that Billy would kill me for talking about. Let's just say you'll have to buy our next record."

You released a breathy laugh, shaking your head, "I've still got your first two in my apartment."

"So, you seeing anyone?" He asked.

Was this some sort of code? Was this his way of preparing to ask you out? You had already waited twenty two years for this.

"No, I'm not. How about you?"

Before he could answer, Julia's cries filled the room. Camila looked around, apologizing as she began rocking her slowly, trying to calm the toddler down. Another tantrum, you guessed. Every bit as fiery as her father.

The conversation continued for another hour without you ever getting an answer to whether he was seeing anyone. You felt wrong bringing it back up since he had already moved on to telling you about the concerts they had been playing the past few weeks.

By the time the check came, you weren't ready to end the night. But they had an early morning tomorrow, with rehearsals and the concert. You understood and bid your goodbyes.

As they drove off, you walked to your car. But you didn't have your purse on you.

Walking back in the restaurant, you went back to your table, finding your purse hanging on the back of a wooden chair, along with Graham's wallet on the table.

Deciding to drop it off at their hotel, you got in your car and started driving.

-------

When you got out of your car, the first person you saw was Eddie, leaning against a pillar while taking a drag of his cigarette.

He straightened when he saw you, a smile on his face, "Y/N, I didn't know you were coming over."

"Me neither," You laughed, "But Graham forgot his wallet."

"I'll walk you in. They won't let you go in without one of us," Eddie said, putting out the flame of his cigarette in an ashtray.

You thanked him, following him inside the hotel and to the elevator.

Making small talk on the way up, you were reminded of how kind Eddie was. He was the most sensible of the group. Not blunt like Karen, not naive like Graham. He wasn't as tough as Billy or as laid-back as Warren. Camila had always been the voice of reason, but Eddie was outspoken.

He led you to Graham's door, knocking on it a few times.

When the door swung open, Graham was standing on the other side, less than half dressed.

Eddie stepped to the side, revealing you behind him.

A surprised expression settled over the youngest Dunne brother, "Y/N, what're you doing here?"

You dug his wallet out of your pocket, "You left this at the restaurant. Can't really go anywhere without it."

He smiled, taking it from you, "Thanks, I appreciate it. You have—"

From inside the room, a woman's voice rang out, "Graham, get the fuck back inside and finish what you started."

It wasn't just any woman, though. It was Karen.

You saw her shoes in the middle of the room from where you were standing, clothes strewn on the floor and dresser.

"I'll leave you to it," You said, swallowing the bile that rose in your throat.

Did he know your heart was breaking? You wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone. It was the worst feeling in the world.

Turning on your heel, Graham didn't bother calling out behind you. He just closed his door, going back to what he hadn't finished.

God, you hated saying that.

Eddie walked beside you, taking notes of your expression. But he waited to say anything until he got in the elevator, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't... I didn't know they were together. Not just in there, but at all."

You stayed silent, unable to look at him. It wasn't his fault, but you were about to crumble.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

That's what broke you. Falling into his side, Graham leaned forward to catch you, his arms wrapping around your waist to support you as tears came rolling down your cheeks.

The elevator was filled with your sobs. You weren't the only one who's heart was breaking. Eddie had always hated seeing you like this.

When the doors opened, Warren appeared on the other side.

Eddie mouthed, "Go get him. Car."

He led you out to the car, a hand pressed on your back as he led you outside.

You slipped in the backseat with him, head resting on his shoulder.

"I thought... I thought he'd..." Your chest heaved, your hands frantically wiping your tears away, "I didn't... Eddie..."

"Shhh," He soothed, "You're going to be alright. I'm here, okay? I'm not going to leave you."

You nodded, clinging to his shirt as you tried to calm yourself.

That's when you heard a knock at your window.

Eddie reached over to open the door, Warren smiling down sympathetically at you.

"Pears, I've got somebody here to see you," He said softly, turning to his friend beside him, hissing, "Jesus Christ, zip it up, asshole."

That stung.

Graham poked his head through, "Y/N/N, what's wrong?"

Eddie glared at him. Another Dunne brother to add to his growing list of people he couldn't give two fucks about.

"Warren, are we interrupting something? I feel like we are."

"Get your head out of your ass, Dunne." Eddie snapped, gesturing towards you.

You pulled away from Eddie, "Can you give us a minute. Please?"

"I'll be right outside if you need me, okay?"

Nodding, you watched as he slid out of the car while Graham slid in, the doors shutting. You had never felt so alone.

"Y/N/N? What's wrong?"

"You, Graham. You're what's fucking wrong."

"I don't, I don't understand..."

You shook your head, "How long have we known each other?"

"Twenty two years."

"Do you love me?"

He nodded, "Of course I do."

"No, Graham, are you in love with me."

"Like—love love?" He asked, quite literally twiddling his thumbs.

"Y/N..." He trailed off.

Your head fell into your hands, inhaling sharply, "You may not be in love with me, Graham."

Sitting back up, you looked him in the eyes, "But I've been in love with you since we were in diapers. That hasn't changed. And it hurts, Graham, it hurts so much to see you with someone else. Because I love you. I always have."

He was silent, unsure of what to say.

"Um, Y/N... I... I'm sorry, I just... I don't think..."

"You didn't think anything of us being each other's first kiss? Nothing of us going to prom together two years straight? Me coming to all of your concerts? You coming to my recitals? Nothing? Absolutely nothing? I was so excited to see you, so excited. I was finally going to tell you how I felt. But I found you with another woman. You told me you had a long day and an early morning and that you couldn't hang out tonight. But you were just fucking your keyboardist."

"Y/N, she's not just my keyboardist."

Your nails dug into your hands, "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out, Graham. Out of my car."

"I'm sorry, I really am."

You pushed him away from you, screaming, "Get out!"

He didn't budge, trying to talk you down.

"I'll always love you, Y/N/N. But you're like my sister."

"I never want to see you again. Ever. I never want to have to look you in the eyes. I'm done, Graham. I'm done always being in second place.

He put a hand on your shoulder.

"So help me Graham, if you don't get out of my fucking car."

He got the message that time, his head bowed as he grasped the door handle.

Before he could leave, you muttered one final sentence, "I'm happy you found someone you love, Graham."

He didn't say anything, slamming the door and walking back inside the hotel.

You slammed your fists against the leather seats of your car, the thread hitting your knuckles just right so that they split open, oozing blood.

It burned, the blood on your hands as you tried to apply pressure.

The car door opened a few minutes later, Eddie sliding back in beside you. Taking note of your bloody hands, he slipped out of his shirt, leaving himself in a white undershirt.

He wrapped the sleeve around your bloody knuckles, pressing down on the wound.

Tears began spilling down your cheeks again and you leaned into him, your head in his chest as he stroked your hair, promising that you'd be okay.

Like you, Eddie had his handful of unrequited love. First Camila, then you. But like Graham, you were to blind to see that.

#fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #dj&ts #djats #graham dunne x y/n #graham dunne x reader #grahamdunne #graham dunne #graham dunne x you #taylor reid #taylor jenkins reid

[tac-owo-sensei]

I am horrible at coming up with titles for stories, but just know this is g/t 👍

Warning: this will use giant having a human pet concept, and a bit of fearplay

A pet, that’s what I am. Born into a world that was too big for me- into a life where I was nothing, but an animal, meant to be used as a toy, a companion, or whatever my owner wanted me to be. Even still, I had hope. I was raised alongside those who believed giants to be evil, but, seeing so many different types of giants walk into the pet store, adults, teenagers, kids, I knew- no, I hoped they were like us. Human. Unfortunately, it was all for naught.

I was given as a gift to a giant my age- Jacob was his name. He barely paid me any mind. He did his thing, and I did mine. He wasn’t cruel or anything, just…quiet. 

I was seated on his desk, fumbling with an old post-it note, occasionally looking up, watching as he typed away on the computer.

I looked back as I heard the creak of the chair, the lack of the clicking keyboard. He slumped back against the chair. As I was just about to look away, our eyes locked. 

Without warning, I was suddenly lifted several feet into the air, my torso pinched between his thumb and forefinger. I had to fight the urge to squirm, especially when I slowly being lifted towards his face, until I was at eye-level with him. 

His blank stare bore into me. I was airborne, flying and freeing falling within seconds, before landing on something warm…squishy…his hand. I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath as I was once again tossed. My stomach did flips, and once I landed back on the skin, I squeeze my eyes shut. Upon landing on the third time, I tightly grasped on his point finger, my entire body being pressed against it, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Please…no more.”

——-

Jacob never really cared about humans, or any of his fellow giants for that matter. It’s not that he was apathetic, more so that he didn’t like people. So when he was gifted a human only a few days prior, he was very clueless on what step to take next. She was relatively quiet, as was he. As usual, while he did his homework, she did her own thing, folding and unfolding a post-it note, seemingly lost in thought. 

He hadn’t know what had came over him, but once he was finished with his homework, he became bored, and what was the first thing he saw? The little human. Without thinking, something he seemed to do much of lately, he pinched her between his thumb and forefinger and brought her up to his face. 

He could feel her writhe within his grip, every tiny movement, her warmth, he could feel at all, but at the time he wasn’t too preoccupied with those thoughts. That being said, he threw her into the air, easily catching her. He had repeated this two more times, head bopping up and down as she rose and fell. 

Once she landed the third time, something different happened. She clutched onto his pointer finger, surprisingly tightly for someone of her statue. Then, she whispered something.

“Please…no more.” He could feel her tiny puffs of air on his finger, her rapid heartbeat. When he moved the finger ever so slightly, she held on tighter. 

She was trembling. 

“Hey…” he whispered. God, she truly looked so…small right now. “I’m not going to throw you.” He tried again. Even with his words, he couldn’t help the small smile that began to form on his lips. He knew finding something like her paralyzing fear of him to be cute was fucked, but he couldn’t help himself. Even still, he continued the gentle approach. 

He began to use his free hand to gently play with her hair, limiting himself to only his pinkie. She shivered underneath every little touch, but also ever so slightly loosened her grip as the minutes passed. 

Eventually, once her grip loosened enough, he brought his hand over to the desk and tilted it, grimacing only after he caused her to roll harshly only it.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. He should have never been given a pet.

#g/t #g/t community #g/t idea #giant tiny #g/t scenario #size difference #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #g/t writing #fearplay #g/t angst #g/t fearplay #gt writing

[pinkandgoldensoul]

Heyo!

Since I'm definitely a fan of your writings and this tinkling feeling of requesting you something has been irking me, can I request something like an arranged marriage with Pierre?

Angsty and maybe a happy ending. That's upto you.

Love your works. Hoping for more great pieces.❤️

Happy New Year 🎊

(At the end of the fic I'll leave a note about this request ���️)

Navigation || Masterlist

If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: pierre gasly x female!reader (feat. esteban ocon x female!reader and charles leclerc as reader's bestfriend) genre: arranged marriage, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, mention of s*x (not graphic), cheating, violence word count: 18.6k plot: you loved him, he loved you, and neither knew. Will an arranged marriage, an old love triangle and a special friend be enough to finally make you confess your true feelings?

Walking down the aisle, a bouquet clumsily held by trembling fingers, your whole chest was filled with quick butterflies batting wings, desperate to spread free. He was perfect. An astonishingly crafted smirk plastered on his face, ready for the flashes of the cameras to be captured, the suit slid on his athletic body without creases. You reckoned yourself inadequate in that white, plain dress: feeling pins pulling your hair left and right after hours of work by the hairdresser, the steady arm of your dad was the only anchor to the present moment. He never strayed his stare away from you, removing your veil in a slow, tantalizing motion. There were no vows to be exchanged and get mistaken in anxiety, no rings to be put through the wrong finger: you were and had always been his since forever, without he even had to ask. You peeked behind Pierre’s shoulder and saw Charles showing you an encouraging smile, which you tried to reciprocate despite sweating cold. You remembered his huge grin when Pierre had handed him the invitation: dimples on full display, Charles had flicked his eyes between the two of you and had been stoked ever since he was told he’d be best man. He’d been happier than Pierre himself had been about the news of the engagement with you and, consequently, about the wedding.

>>♥<<

«Okay, cool.» That had been his answer to you two fathers’ decision. They had grown best friends over the years, and they both didn’t like Pierre’s womanizer lifestyle, which was quite detrimental to his reputation. So your dad had decided to offer his own daughter to the Gasly’s like a sacrificial victim, knowing you had always had sympathy for the youngster and sure he would simply love you back with time. Of course, you were painfully aware of Pierre’s usual behavior around girls and, even though befriending him in teenage had made you helplessly fall in love with him, getting married felt like the cruelest assault to your dignity. For sure you would love him. And for sure he would not. Sitting on a couch right in front of each other, your parents discussing a couple of meters away, he simply bore his eyes into yours while drinking a glass of juice, legs spread out. «We’re going to have fun the first night together or…?» Your eyes threw a dagger to him, hit in your pride for the insensitive comment; Pierre wasn’t known for being delicate and considerate, when you used to hang out in group with him. After all, his humor was one of the things that had you capitulate before his feet. «Okay, I see. No jokes.» You squeezed your fingers into fists, uptight, dissatisfaction cursing through your blood. «Not on such things, Pierre.» «Like what? Sex?» he raised a brow. «My wedding.» you sighed. «Our wedding, you mean.» «Doesn’t seem as pivoting to you. Nothing will really change for you.» «We’re both going to wear a ring, y/n. Never seen a marriage without the groom or the bride.» He downed the last sip of the juice and placed the glass on the coffee table. You knew from the start it wouldn’t be a fairytale.

>>♥<<

«Don’t think a bride should stand on her own and look so sad.» Charles’ words whispered in your ear made you roll eyes and brought an immediate smile to your face. «Don’t think a best man should bother the bride with stupid remarks.» «Do you think it’s stupid?» he asked, raising his brow to insinuate doubt. «Pierre is having a blast and you… well, you’re here listening to the stupid remarks of the best man.» The small stem glass of champagne you still held had dried out of bubbles, but seemed interesting enough to draw your eyes down; Charles, genuinely sorry to witness your let down expression, wetted his lips and briefly glanced back at Pierre, laughing and dancing with the other guests. «Let’s go dance.» Caught by surprise, you tilted your head back up, wide eyes. «C’mon, don’t pretend you didn’t hear!» Charles chuckled, holding both your hands. «We’re going to make fools of ourselves…» «But that’s what we do the best when we’re together!» You let yourself be dragged in the middle of the dance floor set up under an outdoor gazebo: Charles’ ridiculous moves made a visceral laugh emerge from the depths of your fears, as he tried to involve you in his bubbly fun, despite the dress not helping the flow of your groove. «Geez, I feel so awkward!» you let out, head leaning backwards, invested by a childish happiness. «Just dance it out, we’re doing amazing!»

The sun setting down at the horizon threw an orange gold ray cut through the air, hitting Charles’ profile, getting both enlightened and obscured in two poetic halves which danced relentless and made you twirl around without a single thought. Out of notice, the guests had gathered around the two of you, enjoying the show you had put up; and when the music faded out to a slower tune, catching your breath in Charles’ arms, hands resting on his heaving chest, your sight found Pierre’s blue eyes, filled with an unreadable expression. As slower notes filled the air, he walked over to you, confident in each firm step, putting Charles’ luminous smile in defeat: when Pierre was around, there was no chance for you to look at any other person. He simply took your hands, implicitly warning Charles to move away and make room for him, tenderly joining the swinging fabric of your dress. Too affected by his presence and by racing thoughts about the future you would share with him from that moment on, you placed your burning cheek upon his chest, right above his heart. «Why didn’t you ask me to dance?» His question breached your overthinking silence. «You were too busy entertaining the guests.» You didn’t mean for your words to sound as veiled of sadness and resigned as they did, but you felt somehow content in letting Pierre know how you felt about the whole situation. He had you wrapped around his finger; his ring one. You were engraved in the inner circle of gold touching his skin, kissing it tenderly, vowing love to him any second. «I thought I’d make you uncomfortable giving you all my attention. You dropped a glass during lunch because of it, and I don’t want you to get hurt.» His smirk disseminated deep, red shame on your cheeks; why did you put blush on earlier that morning if Pierre was managing to do all the work by himself?

An unerasable pang of hurt chained your feet to the ground, unable to sink deeper into Pierre’s gentle hands holding you throughout the dance: you told yourself it wouldn’t shatter you completely if you thought he didn’t mean any of the things he did, he said. Holding you closer, cheek resting on his white, unbuttoned shirt, he left an unexpected and unseen peck on the top of your head, as you both still lulled to the beat. He then leaned on a side, dropping whispered words into your ear. «Want to see a smile on my wife’s face. It’s our wedding, after all, not our funeral.» As much as you wanted to feel hatred, you let Pierre’s jokingly voice sink, unconsciously obliging to his request right away. You felt young, drunk, foolish. You’d enjoy every bit of attention he’d spare you. Every single scramble.

>>♥<<

Pierre had insisted on picking you up before entering your newly bought apartment, to stick to the tradition; between giggles and laughs, you had admired you two’s mothers astonishing work of petals and candles signaling the way over to the bedroom. The dim lights enchanted your sight, as you stood speechless before the bed. Pierre’s hands caressing your forearms and slowly making their way up to your shoulders awoke you and froze you at once. The tip of his nose brushing your neck, you didn’t dare move nor speak as Pierre pressed soft kisses all over. Were you ready? Pierre encircled your waist with his arm, both relieving and accentuating the knot forming in your stomach. Would you ever be ready? You hadn’t talked about that moment, you hadn’t considered there’d be the need to. You thought he wouldn’t even touch you, once everybody’s eyes would be out of sight. So why was he taking all his time carefully unbuttoning the back of your dress, leaving open mouthed kisses on the bare skin he had available? «Pierre…» You soon realized your moan had been an incentive to Pierre when an airy chérie was whispered upon your shivering skin. «Pierre, I don’t know if we should…» «It’s our first night married, y/n. This is exactly what we should do.» His voice was warm, slightly raspy, perfectly calm and collected, concealing a burning desire underneath. Pierre tucked a lock of your neat hair behind your ear, leaving your neck shivering at the touch. «I know this probably isn’t how you hoped your wedding to be… But now I’m your husband, and I’m willing to do everything I’m supposed to. I’m not backing down.» «Will you ever love me?» you asked, suspended. Pierre tucked another strand of hair in the same spot. «I can’t promise that.» Of course, how would he? «But I’m always going to respect you, no matter what. I swore it and I’ll stand by it.» You slowly turned around to face him, picking up the gown of your dress and pressing a hand to your chest so that it wouldn’t slip off due to the strings being loosened. «Please, don’t… Please, promise you won’t hurt me, Pierre.» The pleading tone of your voice unexpectedly pulled a string inside Pierre’s chest. «Do you really think I’d do that on purpose? Y/n, we’ve been… we’ve known each other for so many years.» «That’s what scares me.» You diverted your gaze, staring at your own reflection on the window: you were now gripping at Pierre’s shirt, the bodice dangerously threatening to slip down, eyes brimming with tears. How could you be more miserable than asking your husband not to hurt you? «Y/n, I’m not a teen anymore. And I’m kind of offended that you think I’m what other people say and what the media want to make everybody believe.» «I wouldn’t have agreed to the wedding, if I believed all the things they said about you.» you whispered. «Then trust the words I said at the altar.» Pierre delicately cupped your cheek, leaving a slow, tender kiss on the opposite temple. «For better and for worse…» he said, boring his eyes into yours. «For richer and for poorer…» he carried on, swiftly freeing your arms from the dress’ sleeves. «In sickness and in health…» Pierre breathed upon your lips, grabbing the dress fallen down to your hips. «Until death do us part.» Gripping tight Pierre’s arms, you let him take your breath away with his sloppy kiss, shivering, despite your face feeling warm and flushed in heat. «I will love you, y/n.» Pierre tucked yet another strand of hair behind your ear. «Maybe not like a charming prince, but I will love you as much as I can.»

His fingers pressed on your shoulders, silently asking you to sit on the edge of the bed, to which you obliged without even thinking twice. The air was thick in pleasant tension: Pierre had let his jacket shuffling its way to the floor, staring at you as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt; on your side, you had joined his intentions fidgeting with the buttons crossing his chest and abs, fully focusing on the slow, tantalizing task, instead of searching the force to bear his magnetic eyes. The golden shade casted over your cheeks, blending with the natural reddish shade of feelings spreading over your skin, left Pierre with an unexplainable tug inside the chest, pushing him to bend down and trap you on the mattress with yet another kiss, suddenly impatient. His shirt long forgotten on the floor upon the jacket and his tie, Pierre’s roaming hands dragged your dress down, making sure you’d slip completely out of it, so that you’d be bare for him to avidly see, touch and savor. Senses overwhelmed by his presence, helplessly amazed at how he could enchant your limbs and make them so reactive and sensitive to his touch, your fingers searched for relief on his body, between his brownish locks of hair, on his muscled neck and upper arms. Anything, to release the growing yearning he was masterfully building and lighting up inside of you. Pierre stopped all of the sudden, one elbow keeping him up, eyes lost in focus, as the fingers of his free hand traced an imaginary line from your sternum, down your chest. Before you could swallow hard at the gesture, he placed a lewd kiss right where his pointer finger had stopped. Again, uncontrolled, a soft moan escaped your already opened lips, tugging at his hair as to both pull him away and push him deeper into your soul. He raised his eyes to look at you hungrily, lips still stained with your skin. «I will honor you all the days of my life, y/n.» Pierre read the soft stare you gave him and the lovingly caress of your hand on his head as an invitation to drag his mouth upon your tender breast, finally free from the white cloth he had wished to tear apart since he had seen you walking down the aisle, swearing to himself he’d not be satisfied until he’d heard you scream his name from the top of your lungs, with his own hands, eyes and heart full of you.

The wedding being held in Italy at the beginning of September, right after Monza’s race weekend, you both had spent only a couple of days in the new house in Milan, in the attempt of building the sense of affectionate routine you would inevitably lose after taking the flight for Azerbaijan, following Pierre in the double-header awaiting him. The media had called it “racing-moon”. It was no ordinary honeymoon, travelling across the globe to support your husband, watching him with a pair of headphones and staring at him from a screen inside Alpine’s box, shying away from paparazzi’s cameras ready to capture glimpses of intimacy you didn’t even know how to spark yourself. A night of love wasn’t enough to erase the helpless feeling of distance and separation around Pierre: you were friends, sure, but your heavy crush on him had always prevented the relationship from growing further as it had happened with Charles. Daydreaming about him laying down your bed, earphones plugged, you had known every single detail about the things he liked while being in your early teens; now, looking at him packing his suitcase, standing at the doorframe you realized you either had never known him before or you had forgotten anything at the altar once he had kissed you alive.

«Do you need help?» you asked, closing and releasing your fingers from a fist, feeling useless. «Oh, didn’t notice you were there.» he quickly peeked at you. «No, thanks! I don’t know how, but it took half the time.» You raised a brow, leaning against the frame with arms crossed. «Maybe… it was the perfectly organized wardrobe I spent two days filling up with all your clothes?» «Mmh, I’m not really sure… Maybe I’ve just got quick with packing, since I’ve been doing it every other week for years now.» His smirk triggered an eye roll in you, so noticeable that Pierre turned to you, taking the suitcase off the bed and letting it roll on the floor. Not kind of expecting him to get that close to you after only stopping by the room, suddenly aware of how his stare could get your whole body drawn to him, succumbed to him, enchanted and gravitating around his brightness, you let yourself be courted by Pierre’s teasing fingers running up your arms. «I’m done now, so…» he said. «So?» «The bed is clear.» Throwing him an amused glance, about to laugh at how lewd his voice had sounded while hinting at the endless list of things you could do there, you pretended not to get his point. «Well, good job! We have somewhere to sleep tonight then.» «There’s no way, right?» Pierre squinted his eyes, hands still warming your skin caressed by the hot Italian wind blowing from the window. «Way to do what?» you asked, faking innocence once again. «I think you perfectly know.»

September’s heat had paired up with the warmth creeping up your ears while Pierre encircled your waist and inched over, causing butterflies inside your chest to awake your heart, moving past your thoughts to put them to sleep, as an overwhelming flow of love made you crave that heavenly attention and touch every second more. Pierre seemed to stop in his relentless chase of a kiss: he stood still, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy of the moment, with your arms enclosed around his neck. There was no rush. The house was hollow and silent; only your breaths could be heard, mixed with the distant chatter coming from the street. Maybe that was the happiest and most peaceful corner of life he would ever know. Maybe holding your waist knowing that you were his wife, that he had settled his forever home, maybe spending his life with you was happiness. He struggled forming deep rooted love feelings towards you, yet could picture the two of you having kids so easily, travelling together, filling that empty house with memories. Maybe it was the fondest look in your eyes making every fantasy so incredibly near and easy. There was something, though, that Pierre didn’t find hard to spark at all. «Changed your mind?» you whispered, teasingly but soft. Attraction. Pierre was so desperately enamored with your body; to be fair, he had always quite been. Untouched by innocence, back at the time you would hang out in group, he would see you utterly oblivious to how other guys glanced at you and wonder if you had ever had sex before. The night of your first time together – the wedding’s – he had both been unfazed and surprised about noticing you weren’t a virgin: it totally made sense for someone as beautiful as you to have been with a guy, but at the same time he had no clue of who you had appointed as the one, and it was weird, because you used to hang out with the same people. He had always thought you had been in his universe, like a satellite, and had always taken your presence for granted, without ever considering he could be the planet on the margin of a totally different galaxy you shined in. Pierre was so intimately envious of a past you didn’t allow him in, and his only way to cope was making sure he could be your only future. «Not at all.» The fastest flicker of his eyes down to your lips was the warning, which you took in with delight: and Pierre was all over you, dragging you into his lighthearted desires and plans, igniting a shy flattering shade beneath your cheeks.

Pierre had insisted on entering the paddock hand in hand; in return, you had insisted on giving your right hand, standing on his left side. He had frowned just enough for you to capture it, not able to understand your request. «As you wish.» But you knew why: and your thumb gently stroking his wedding ring knew as well. Unexplainable excitement was the first feeling which had insinuated in you as you put foot past the turnstiles: Pierre had reminded you quite a few cameras would be following you in a bee line right around you. You were too happy to care, in your first outing as a married woman. As a married couple.

«Oh, hello to the royal couple!» You couldn’t stop yourself from eye-rolling at Charles’ comment, drinking Pierre’s laugh like a shot of bliss. «What, are you jealous?» They laughed and joked around, giving friendly pats to each other, while you watched them with a grin plastered on your face, enjoying the luck of spending time with people you loved. So many things had changed, but it still felt like you were still sixteen, walking without destination in group, young and careless, emptying your pockets full of dreams and using them as currency of exchange between each other. «Catch up with you later, I’ve got a meeting now!» «See you later!» you waved at Charles, as Pierre greeted him.

Entering Alpine’s hospitality you squeezed Pierre’s hand in fright: out of the blue, a deafening clapping concert made your heart fly across the room, as mechanics, engineers and other people from the staff celebrated you two. Pierre looked down at you, curious to see your reaction, still infected by the serene and uplifted atmosphere, swimming in delight as soon as your eyes clicked with his and saw you flattered. There was a bit of pride in showing you off like a trophy, proving everybody wrong with the assumption he’d never settle down and never find the one. Well, he didn’t really choose you out of love. But nobody was meant to know that.

«Congratulations, mate.» The voice reaching from behind your back made you turn, despite it being directed at Pierre. Your eyes flew high to Esteban’s face, enlarging in surprise: he wasn’t looking down at you, caught in the weirdly friendly interaction with your husband. But as soon as Pierre was dragged into pats and hugs by team members, you were left with a whole bag of memories and discarded feelings coming back to the surface, standing still next to someone you once knew. «It’s like the old times, isn’t it?» he casually said, as you both stared at the packed room, side by side. «No, Esteban. Everything changed.» Bittersweetly shoving your left hand before his face to make a definite statement, he carefully grabbed it and brushed your ring with the thumb, taking a close look. «I don’t believe so.» he let go of your hand, smiling politely. «What are you talking about?» you asked, kind of annoyed. «You still think you have Pierre all to yourself when we know nobody does.» «Don’t… don’t you dare talk crap about him in my presence. You know nothing.» Staring into the void, you tried to stay calm and collected, swallowing the phantoms of the past. «I respect that. But I just wanted to remind you of when you were the one talking crap about him in my presence.» «That was years ag-» «And I was there to listen to you.» You dropped the accusatory finger you had brought dangerously near his chest, mind invaded by guilt and yellowed pages of life. «I’ll still be here for you when Pierre messes up again.» «He won’t, Este.» «We’ll see.» he shrugged, glancing back at the room. «But I’ve spent more time with him in the last year than you have, and I know he is no easy character.» «I’m not going to change my mind, if that’s what you’re trying to do.» you raised a brow, skeptical. «I simply wanted to wish you good luck.» Esteban’s impassive tone left you with the urge of replying: as much as you were filled with doubts and fears, you somehow trusted Pierre and his promises and wouldn’t bear anyone implying stuff. Especially Esteban. Because, to a degree, he knew the situation better than any other. His eyes, that despicable spark of mischief, anger and regret inside of them told you things you didn’t want to hear. «The staff would like to get to know my wife if only my teammate would let her be.» Pierre’s amused interruption startled you, almost feeling caught red-handed with the most terrible crime: talking to a guy he trusted and had grown to hate over time. «Sorry, Pierre! My fault. I was… keeping up with the Gasly’s.» The awkwardness and the tension of the moment didn’t go unnoticed to any of you, and you mentally thanked Pierre’s hand resting on your waist, slowly guiding you away from Esteban, who still stared at you with a small courtesy smile. «We’ll have to bear his presence, I know. Trust me, if I could, I’d rather have him on the other side of the planet.» Pierre sighed defeated while whispering those apologies laced with hatred in your ear and a pang of nostalgia, guilt, sorrow pushed you a little closer to him. «He’s not a problem, Pierre. We know how to be civil.» He looked at you, faking amazement at your reply, nodding his head with raised brows. «You’re more mature than I thought.» «More mature than you are? For sure.» You expected him to laugh; instead, he grinned in silence, a strange sparkle wobbling in his irises. A part of you clung onto it, wishing it was a veil of tenderness, affection, or anything like it towards you. For a moment, you held the hope in your hands, and you carefully caressed it, cherished it, making room in your heart to plant it and nurture it there, as if that single twinkle could ever be the seed of love.

>>♥<<

Baku’s street didn’t seem as bumpy to Pierre, now that he was walking on it with a small group of engineers; the main straight heading to the finishing line seemed unnecessarily long, especially since he had just travelled the entire track and had the pitlane as destination. Left with nothing else to discuss with his team, he enjoyed the sun setting and painting the city gold, taking it easy and slow. «Pierre!» The Frenchman turned around and immediately grinned wide, waving to Charles jogging to him. «Track walk? Thought I’d see you speeding riding a bike.» Charles chuckled, adjusting his jingling bracelets. «I wanted to enjoy the atmosphere better.» «Yeah, me too.» They strolled pensive, no rush to be drowned by the buzzing life of the paddock. «I can’t believe it.» Pierre looked at his friend, who had a pleased grin painted and hung by his dimples. «What?» «This is your first race weekend married. And I was your best man. Isn’t it crazy?» «Time flies, Charles.» Pierre scoffed with a smile. «I saw you celebrated in the hospitality, earlier.»

As Pierre narrated the small party the team had organized to Charles’ ecstatic eyes, his thoughts lingered on you, on the myriads of unexpected congratulations he had received for choosing such a kind and fine woman and making her his. Though, there were moments he felt like he was just above an acquaintance to you. Pierre sighed. «What was that?» Charles asked. «Sometimes I think I don’t really know y/n. Not as much as I should, I mean.» «You do know her, though. You’ve been hanging out together since high school.» «Charles, I don’t even know who her first boyfriend was.» Pierre’s pinch of helplessness caught Charles by surprise, reciprocating his sudden stare with bewilderment. «Did- I didn’t even know she’s had a boyfriend.» the Monegasque stuttered. Pierre looked down at the asphalt. «Hoped you did. But you see? We don’t really know her.» «Well… You’re married now. You have all your life to get to know her.» Charles put his arm around Pierre’s shoulders, giving him an encouraging look. «Yep. That’s my best man right there!» Pierre reciprocated the grab and smiled as the two of them walked down into the pitlane, serving friendly smiles and beautiful shots to the photographers buzzing around the garages.

>>♥<<

«Hello?» «Uhm, am I disturbing you?» «Yes, absolutely. But I’m going to be the nicest just for you.» «Thanks for the usual teasing, Charles.» «What’s up?» «I… I’m deeply embarrassed, but I think I’m lost. I can’t find the way to the track.» «Never heard of Google Maps?» «I’ve tried, but I ended up exactly back at the hotel.» «Ooof. There’s actually someone out there who’s worse than me then.» «Ah, I wouldn’t have called you if Pierre wasn’t busy.» «Can’t I be busy as well?» «Cha’…» «I’m just joking. Are you at the hotel?» «Yep.» «’M on my way.»

The bubbly air of that Saturday morning brushed your bare arms, anticipating the warmth falling onto the grey asphalt, as you walked quickly alongside Charles, trying not to get stopped by fans too many times. «Why didn’t you come to the track with him?» «I think he tried to wake me up, but I… uhm… fell asleep.» «It’s incurable, right?» You both chuckled, still marching towards the paddock. «How is it going?» «Uh?» «With Pierre.» A horn startled you, while Charles waved towards the Tifosi on the other side of the street and smiled under his Rayban’s. «Good! I mean, way better than I thought.» Charles studied your expression, letting your own statement sink in. «You know, I talked with him yesterday. He asked me if I knew who your first boyfriend was.» «Did you tell him?!» you gasped. «Of course not, I’m not that mad.» he looked straight ahead. «But he seemed somehow disappointed. He really wants to know you on a deeper level.» «And tell him about my hookups as he did with us? No, thanks.» «Not necessarily about past relationships. There are so many things you could rediscover now as a couple, and he’d like to. He… he cares. Pierre isn’t the asshole you believe him to be.» «You know my reasons, Charles.» «I do, y/n. But I also know Pierre, and I’ve never seen him as determined and serious in any other relationship before.» A doubtful glance at him turned into an amused snort, as you saw Charles’ dimples already exposed for you to admire. «I should give him a chance, uh?» you joked, kicking a pebble. «Yeah, you definitely should.» «I hate you.» «What’s that for?» Charles chuckled. «You’re too convincing.» «Maybe you only wanted to hear someone else’s confirmation.» You took a moment to reflect, still looking at his green eyes, letting the sentence resonate inside of you. Perhaps you had only been waiting for a sensible reasoning to justify the senseless, self-destructive and visceral need of trying to build a stronger relationship with Pierre.

>>♥<<

Crossing the room, hands intertwined with yours, Pierre felt alert, almost knowing something about bringing you along to that small reception organized for commercial reasons only was intrinsically wrong. Until he spotted a pair of brown eyes lingering way too long on the fine straps grazing your shoulders’ skin. Esteban’s. Despite the years, despite trying, despite the countless shots he had given to their relationship, Pierre couldn’t let go of hatred: the memories of the three of you in the same couple of meters, in the same suffocating room were still a fresh wound which had reopened once more. Unaware of anything, you reciprocated with a reassuring smile Pierre’s tighter hold on your hand, an enquiring look on your face. He expected you to stiffen at Ocon’s mere sight; instead, you stood like a fragile yet flexible flower against the blowing wind, only caring about being… as marvellous as you were. Pierre had been learning it to his disadvantage each day a tiny bit more, trying not to read too much into your rosy cheeks and your fond, unmistakable stares. The delicacy and the grace you would use with others any time you got the chance to talk with people from the team, the paddock, the entire world, really, hit him in an unknown spot of the soul. Probably as hard as Ocon approaching the two of you with a champagne glass in hand did on his nerves. «Didn’t expect to see you here.» Esteban said, only addressing you. Chewing a lump of awkwardness, you threw the quickest glance over to Pierre to check his reaction after being deliberately ignored by his teammate. «Here I am.» you whispered, pressing your lips together with an embarrassed smile. «Wasn’t I clear enough when I told you to stay away from her?» A lightning struck the room. The bitterness in Pierre’s tone triggered a light-hearted laugh from Esteban, theatrically opening the arm and letting the small wave of champagne wash the resentments of the past away. «Come on, Pierre! How many years passed? We aren’t teenagers anymore.» His fingers grabbed your hand tighter, restraining himself from spitting words of fire against his former teammate once again: the bottled-up anger, though, had resurfaced much to Pierre’s surprise, and to yours as well, pressing the button “play” on the reruns of the day their entire relationship crumbled.

No matter what you could’ve done to avoid it, Pierre and Esteban were born to disagree. Nobody could stop that tickling bomb hiding in both their chests as soon as they would spend enough time together to let it explode. Even without you, they would’ve nurtured antipathy for each other; that was how it was supposed to be, and they both knew it. Nestling against Pierre’s loving arms draping you all, you stared at an indefinite point of the packed, but still empty, room. «Do you think it’s my fault?» Pierre placed his chin on your shoulder to listen to your whispered rumbling, joining you in the contemplation of the void. «No, I don’t. He was a douchebag even before treating you the way he did.» It didn’t seem like he was lying, to be fair. You knew very little about the stormy past between the two, since you had met Esteban way later than you had befriended Pierre; he had never told you a thing about a terrible kid who grew up with like a brother and then discarded him due to insane competitiveness. Esteban was dead to him. A Mr. Nobody existing without any string to his life but hate and resentment’s. Unspoken truth, they both liked you and cared for you in very different ways, so it was only natural for them to notice each other’s evident preference for you and clash because of it; that was how it was supposed to be, and they both knew it, deep deep down. «Can we please forget about him?» The careful urge of the sentence was paired with a swift brush of his hands taking yours, silently asking you to dance to the music now blasting through some speakers in the room. Maybe lightness was all you both needed to be happy.

Singapore’s humidity clung onto your lungs like a suffocating net, twirled around your trachea, squeezing it tight. With an invisible layer of sweat all over your skin, heat as well as worries and doubts made you melt before the evidence, before reality. Two weeks and you had already become a ghost. Imprisoned in the highest tower of the lies’ castle, your honeymoon had turned into a tour around the globe inside a golden cage: everybody saw you as the “trophy-wife”, a peculiar and exotic animal stupid enough to bear Pierre’s company, showed left and right, avidly and superficially looked at, never considered as a real person.

Any time Pierre would come home from unbelievably long training sessions and meetings of all sorts, you didn’t even have the strength to start an argument and cry your loneliness out. He’d absent-mindedly kiss your cheek, go take a shower and leave you to your unfinished essay draft sitting in the dust of your laptop’s memory. Eating some take-out he’d leave you choosing in religious silence, punctuated with brief chat, you’d often watch a movie on the couch: staring blankly at the screen, you’d focus on how foreign the touch of his arm around your shoulder would feel. An afterthought, quick enough to disturb the turbulence of your headspace. I simply wanted to wish you good luck. Luck. It would’ve never been out of love, but out of pure chance. As if Pierre could never learn to love anyone. Still, admitting to yourself Esteban was right would’ve been an unnecessary added humiliation. «We’re too slow in the middle sector, I’m understeering everywhere…» It was a secret you wanted to keep buried in your chest. «But you gain in the last sector, you see? Our top speed is good.» Not being reciprocated. An ineffable hurt. You miserably looked at your husband debriefing intensely with his performance engineer, standing at the back of the garage so that you wouldn’t be in the way of the many mechanics working around the car. Envious, you fixed your gaze upon the fan Pierre held in his hand, still busy talking and pointing at data on the screen. The air felt too thick to be breathed in, too dense to slide down your lungs and swoop your dark thoughts away. You had agreed to be his wife, due to the endless love you had. But what if he let that love slowly wither and die? What if you could grow out of love? What if finally having him was enough for you to become indifferent? What if neither of you could remain loyal to the promises you vowed?

Swallowing hard, you shut your eyes shooing the sudden dizziness away; and at the very same time, you felt a gentle weight lingering on your right shoulder, asking quietly for permission. You opened your eyes, obliged to wide them as soon as you saw it was Esteban. «Here, drink this.» A water bottle was handed to you, still struck by the soft eyes and the attention being addressed to you. «It’s electrolytes. With this weather I always make sure to keep hydrated, since it’s easy to lose liquids and mineral salts as well.» A thousand questions ran through your mind, to the point Esteban could almost see them being scattered from one pupil to the other. He invited you to drink once again, poking pride sitting in his chest as he had noticed you being in discomfort first. First than… him. The quick glance Pierre gave the two of you was enough to stir up even stronger satisfaction, a lovely victory in the endless mind-war they fought. «Thank you.» It came out stifled, high-pitched, a bit squeaky, but somehow filled with unexpected sadness. Pierre crossed the garage in a couple of strides, wearing a mask of concern you couldn’t read the authenticity of, shielding you with his body from the unwanted attention Esteban had provided you with. «Are you okay? You could’ve told me you were thirsty.» «Pierre, I’m fine.» you told him off, almost whispering. He darted a glance at his teammate once again as soon as his hand reached yours to grab the water bottle back, willing to take off the hideous smile he wore on his face. Lots of eyes inside the garage had observed the scene in silence, still glancing over you, as Pierre’s attentions and barely noticeable physical touch felt all too much to bear at once. You would’ve died for it, only a couple of months earlier. If only the wedding weren’t a well-thought plan, a pact between family friends, a tie nobody but you craved intimately and deeply because of the loving, totally disregarding the real practical reasons behind it. Ocon’s silhouette being drowned in his side of the garage made your mind slip back into the past, unboxing a metallic box of memories you had buried six feet underground.

Disappointed. The disapproval you had read in Pierre’s face right as you showed up to the club next to the “new friend” you wanted to be joining your historical trio had your heart shattering like a glass of wine from a polished tablecloth, painting the floor in red diamonds. Pierre had dragged you in the middle of the dancing crowd, leaving Esteban hanging at the entrance before a confused Charles. «Why did you bring him here?!» «He’s… I wanted to introduce him to you and Cha’!» you yelled, in order to be heard amidst the chaos. «I know him already, and he’s an asshole. Now tell him to leave! I don’t want him anywhere near me!» «You can’t force anyone to leave a public place! And… And I want to spend time with all of you.» He bored his eyes into yours, letting the blasting music take over your thoughts. «I’m not hanging out with you if you buzz around him.» It was definitive. «Call me when you’re done wasting time with that piece of shit.» Giving you his back, you saw him dive into the sea of people, to find and rapidly grab the waist of the brunette who had accompanied him to the party; he didn’t even bother to be far enough so that you wouldn’t see him shove his tongue down her throat, a tangle of hands messily roaming, touching, squeezing yearning skin. Este’s hand softly intertwining yours guided you towards a quiet table, to which Charles sat waiting, with drinks for the three of you; and as much as you would’ve liked to be grateful for Charles’ delighted stare, for Esteban’s soothing words, your heart still drowned in bubbles at the bottom of your cocktail. He’s my boyfriend. Those were the words you were about to say at the door of the club, to Pierre. You had already anticipated the sweetness of the moment, the satisfaction in proving you weren’t his little puppy, a slave rebelled to the master showing him the jingling keys which had freed him. The mere need to prove him anything was the undeniable sign of slavery. You’d never be free.

>>☆<<

«Are you sure?» «Yeah…» «Here? Don’t you want to go-» You shut Esteban up pressing your lips on his, carrying on the messy make out session you had started in the club’s bathroom. «Y/n, are you really sure?» The kiss was interrupted once again, leaving you with an unbearable, unsatisfied yearn making your heart swell and explode in ashes of frustration. «Don’t you love me, Este?» you whined, your fingertip dragging his bottom lip down in the drunken attempt to seduce him even further. Of course he loved you. He had agreed to take your virginity away as you leaned your back onto a bathroom’s door, during the most boring and miserable of nights out, accepting to be humiliated by Pierre in front of you, his own girlfriend, and dancing awkwardly in the crowd before you dragged him there to pour out the unexplainable need of getting your brain fucked out. Esteban loved you purely, too purely, to be fair: he felt like a noob and inexpert, an amateur he was not, while listening to your heavenly choir of whimpers and profanities, with his fingers gripping tight your hips, as not to lose you. Deep down he knew he should’ve been satisfied and content, he should’ve enjoyed that piece of pleasure and love – but was it love to you? Esteban wasn’t quite sure – because he had managed to snatch you away from Pierre’s clutch, he had laid his hand onto someone he hadn’t had already: he had won where Pierre had lost. Still, thrusting into you as waves of pleasure rocked your body and transfigured your expression, Esteban only felt like he had lost you, indeed, like he had never truly had you, not even physically. And when your warm hand caressed his cheek, he got the confirmation: you pitied him, because no matter how bold the “boyfriend” tag could be, your heart could only crave, think of and wish Pierre.

The break-up was, nonetheless, harmful. After damning yourself, considering how nice and kind Esteban was to you, how sweet some of the moments you had spent together had been, you had come to the conclusion that no other feeling in the world could replace or overshadow the consuming love you felt for Pierre. You didn’t need it to be easy and satisfying; as hurtful as it could be, you only needed him. And to his own dismay, Esteban knew it.

«Can you drop me off at that bar over there?» you pointed at the end of the street. «Why?» «I simply need to hand this to Pie-» «Oh, no, just save it. I should’ve known.» You frowned, looking at his tensed arms. «Is there something wrong?» He scoffed, gripping the steering wheel ‘til his knuckles turned white. «Absolutely not! My girlfriend only runs after another guy who also happens to be a moron and doesn’t give a shit about her while I’m being the third wheeler to my own relationship!» Esteban harshly braked in front of the bar. «Y/n, we’re done.» «What?» you gaped, still stunned by the whole conversation. «I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now get out of the car.» Beyond bewildered, you searched for sincerity and honesty in the brown chocolate eyes you had often lost yourself into, stung by hurt as you found them. «Are you seriously breaking up with me for this? I just need to return this hoodie to him!» Esteban’s eyes bore yours outraged, almost incredulous to your words. «Can’t you see the problem? Can’t you notice how you’re chasing after him and are not willing to treat me nearly the same as you treat him? You share clothes with him and you’ve never even asked once for my hoodies!» «Did you want me to?» «That’s not the point, y/n! The fact is it seems like I never cross your mind, whereas Pierre is always in your thoughts. Sorry, but I can’t bear to see you love him more than you love me. I can’t do this anymore.» Gasping for air and for words, you found none: you witnessed helpless as Esteban got out of his seat and reached to your side to open the car door and invite you once again to get out. «Y/n, don’t force me to be drastic. Come on.» «You’re being nonsense! Este, please, you can’t do this!»

Watching your first relationship crumble under the weight of painful lies, you desperately held onto the car door, despite Esteban’s hand trapping your wrist, firm. «Y/n, I told you to get out.» As you pleaded him, whispering “sorry”s like prayers, few tears pricked your eyes, which seemed to sort the opposite effect of what you had hoped for. Esteban, blinded by hurt and rejection, pulled your wrist towards him in an attempt to drag you out the car, and as an unconditional reflex you cried out to him, a tear cutting through your cheek. «Este, please… Please, don’t do this to me!» «You didn’t care about hurting me, why should I care about hurting you?» As he spitted out these words, scornful, he managed to pull you out the car with a jerk, eliciting a chain of heavy tears to reach the ground, which blurred your vision. Esteban was still talking to you, wrist aching to be freed underneath his hold of steel, but your mind refused to make sense of any of the insults directed at you, as much as your eyes couldn’t clearly distinguish his angry face. You had stopped fighting him, though, surrendered to the sad truth he had unveiled despite you trying to cover it up. A truth made of lies. Exposed to your own blade, humiliated and full of regret, you stood still, frozen, incapable to react. And it was then that you saw Esteban’s body being crashed violently onto the chassis of his car with a loud thud. Your wrist was suddenly snatched from the grab, and you swiped some tears to witness clearly the scene unfolding before you. Pierre holding Esteban by the collar. Pierre was shouting onto his face, unleashing his fury, barking his disgust and hatred; and though you and him both expected some sort of reaction from Esteban, you both watched him stay silent at the accusations. «Don’t ever touch her again! Don’t you even try to show up again, understood? Go fuck yourself and stay away from us!» Pierre shouted, putting a protective arm around your neck and bringing you close. But he couldn’t protect you from those brown eyes, which swallowed down the secrets you weren’t ready to share with Pierre. Esteban judged you in the harshest way possible: leaving you to your own conscience. «It’s okay, now. You don’t have to cry anymore.» Pierre wiped your face off, pulling your head to him for his chin to rest upon, rubbing your back with his hand, as you watched Esteban get back in the car and disappear in a cloud of smoke. «He won’t bother us anymore, I promise. You’re safe, with me.» What a paradox: safe in your captor’s arms.

You let yourself be cradled by Pierre’s honey-laced reassurances, trying to digest the shock of the whole situation bit by bit, failing not to feel sorry for having deceived Esteban and yourself. You had believed you loved him; which wasn’t and could never be true. And the awareness weighed on your chest even heavier while being held in Pierre’s arms.

HOT NEWS: Alpine’s driver Pierre Gasly is told to had been seen very intimately close to another woman during a formal gathering with top sponsors of the team. Has the recent marriage with y/n cracked already?

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢/𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛.

>> 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭: 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 “𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕”. 𝙻𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕... N𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚓𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖’𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚜… 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛; 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍: 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙶𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚢? 𝙸𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎’𝚜.

Paralyzed on the spot, you let the phone gently thud against the kitchen counter. It was nothing you didn’t expect to happen to you; you had lived through it even before whispering with soft eyes “I do” at the altar, when you used to scroll his Instagram picture-perfect shots with his girlfriends, but the timing he had chosen was way off your forecast. The thunderstorm had darkened your sky too early. You hadn’t seen it coming, you hadn’t heard a single roar of the wind in the distance. Nothing. Pierre had given you nothing either to hate or to love. Somehow, a small part of you felt sickly relief in knowing you could finally turn your eternal suspicion into hatred: you wished you could mold it in shape, form sentences to dagger him with, cries to let out your throat with violence. Nothing came. Nothing.

You stood by the counter as you let the bloody red liquid boil into the pan; staring at it, you absentmindedly kept stirring the sauce, not able to do anything else. Your ringtone blasted through the empty kitchen and it pierced your ears unexpected, instilling in your nerves a hit of anxiety which caused your hand to hit the pan; it dropped inevitably off the stove, collapsed to the ground, poured its vermilion content on the luminous tiles. Dodging quickly enough not to have the pan falling on your feet, still hearing your phone ringing, your chest benched inward with a deep, exasperated sob, sharply taking in air to fill your shaky body with. Waves of tears ran down your eyes, arms still half-hanging in the void, as if you waited for someone to pick you up and nail you to a cross, to cease your unsubduable sense of betrayal. It all crushed down on you, eyes closed, stilling liquid sadness, which ricocheted between the walls of the emptiest and loneliest flat in the world. The phone stopped ringing. It seemed to calm you down at first; the silence left you with curiosity to see if the nightmare was over, opening your eyes back to the disastrous sauce on the floor, which was supposed to be ready for dinner. With caution, your trembling fingers grabbed the phone from the marble counter, and you jumped on your feet as it started buzzing and ringing against your skin once again. A name appeared, impressed on your retina. You couldn’t help but suffocate a sob: the grab on the phone tightened together with the clench wrenching your heart, making it as small as a crumble.

>>♥<<

«Charles…» He didn’t hesitate to take in your wandering hands, flinging towards him and holding onto his shirt. Right as he had read the news, he had reached out to you: for he had witnessed you breaking down because of Pierre too many times not to know you would, eventually, need a leaning shoulder. He wore the friend’s armor with the usual embarrassment of being both friend to you and to Pierre; he was used to balancing between two sides, trying not to pick one, working as a bridge to keep you walking in the same direction. Charles always felt helpless before your broken heart: he knew Pierre and how he would’ve never done anything to hurt you, but still, he had, undoubtedly, and there was no defense Charles himself could put up. Especially if he had you weeping and sobbing in his arms, so painfully close to his heart. «I can’t do this anymore, Charles.» «I know, y/n. I know.» He swallowed hard, caressing your hair, searching for comforting words even though he was damn aware there were none. «W-why? Where did I go wrong?» Charles’s heart panged at your words: he immediately took your face in his hands, wiped tears off it with both thumbs and silently hoped to find an answer. The truth is he hadn’t a single one of them. Glancing at you, Charles wished he hadn’t been excited and bubbly about the marriage as he had been; he had nurtured so much joy, watching the relationship timidly sail the month before the wedding. He had pictured you and Pierre being the couple everyone would envy, perhaps even building a family together. He had got enamored with the way your wedding dress fitted you, how the golden ring adorning your hand had lit up your smile and your complexion even more, how every piece seemed to be finally falling into place.

In a few weeks’ time, he had witnessed the cast away of hopes. Charles wanted to tell you Pierre would’ve never done anything like it, he would’ve sworn it, if only facts didn’t force him to question everything he presumed to be sure of. «I know you’ll hate me for it, but…» he tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear, «…we should know exactly what happened before judging him so harshly.» «Charles! Do you think I really want to know the details?» your chin twitched. «I don’t need to know where… how… and since when they started fucking.» Shaking your head while picturing the atrocious scenes in your head, you put a hand on your forehead, face dropping down, incapable of tolerating Charles’ eyes boring into yours with an awful mixture of pity and sorrow. «It disgusts me.» you said, even feeling your stomach upset. Charles watched you spit out hatred as he rubbed a hand on your upper arm, slightly squeezing it in reassurance. He was friend with both of you and wasn’t keen on the idea of losing either, nor choosing where to stand. Somehow, he couldn’t pick a side. «Don’t I deserve better? Don’t I deserve to be loved?» Charles looked at you sternly, almost scolding you for such a question. «No doubts you do.» he said, definitive. «But Pierre knows that too. Before being his wife, you’re his friend.» He placed his firm hands on both your arms, searching for eye contact as he kept addressing you with a gentle tone. «He’s always loved you and respected you, even if it might have been hard to notice.» «He’s never going to love me… He never will.»

You both stood in the hall of Charles’ suite: the silence wrapping the luxury furniture was punctuated by your quiet sobs, your shaking breath, the strenuous beating of your heart. The air was warm; it flushed your cheeks and Charles’ as well. After a more attentive look, his green eyes seemed dull and tired. The night was already projecting its dark shadow onto the sky, and it was the sign which put your soul into a state of guilt: right after Charles had called you, you had run to him without a single worry of disturbing him. You had left a mess in the kitchen. You hadn’t prepared the dinner Pierre had asked you for, like the perfect lovely wife you had been up until that moment would request you to. As much as you could try to hate him, a solid and unbreakable part of you held onto the hopeless love of him, never ending source of suffering, yet inevitable. At the thought of your condemnation, you sobbed and cried a little louder, pulling Charles’s shirt near you, defeated, exhausted, distraught.

>>♥<<

The quiet sound of clinking metal timidly reached you and awoke you; you stirred, onto the couch, feeling a bit sore from sleeping all night in the same position, cranked. The sun filtered through the curtains, lighting your cheek right as you got seated. The room seemed to wheel ‘round you, on and on: thoughts started racing the new circuit of your mind, lap after lap, causing you to shut your eyes and block the incessant flow which was making you dizzy. Putting memories in order, you recalled the events. You had spent the night at Charles’ place: he had offered you to sleep in his bed, but you had decided not to profit of his generosity. In the quiet darkness of the suite, you had thrown your phone on the carpet, nestling against the squared pillow, shying away any thought concerning Pierre. But you had failed and wondered, haunted, if he might have been searched for you. After all, you weren’t home, when he clearly expected you to be there. He might have noticed. Or maybe not. Perhaps he had been taken care of by that daddy’s girl; maybe he had left you a text saying he wasn’t coming home either, leaving you wasted and rotten together with your nicely cooked dinner. If only there was a dinner to see rotting ; the red liquid crusting on the kitchen tiles printed on your mind like a crime scene you wanted to forget. The idea of your house being empty crashed your insides and twisted them in helpless disappointment. Still sitting, you eyed the phone, lying backwards on the floor, turned off since last night. What was the point of switching it back only to be flooded with more rumors you would never be ready to face?

You then finally stood up in the middle of the living area, looking around you like a stranger, and followed the noise coming from the small kitchen. There you found Charles, jogging around the counters, attempting to cook. You checked the time on the clock hung up on the wall: Monday, 1:12 p.m. «Oh, finally! Good morning!» Charles chirped, interrupting the trance status you had swamped into. «Good morning. Are you cooking lunch?» you asked, getting closer to the stove. «Yep! Some pasta with pesto for lunch!» You gulped at the mention of food. «I just woke up, Charles… I don’t know if I want to eat so much for breakfast.» «I’m sure you’re going to be hungry as soon as you see my delicious plate.» he chuckled, right before quickly removing the lid to the pan which was about to overflow in white bubbles. Done with stirring up the water, he turned towards you, who were already seated at the table, and leaned his palms onto the marble behind him. «How do you feel?» he asked. You rubbed your temple. «Tired.» Charles sighed. «You should’ve slept in my bed and let me take the couch as I-» «I’m not tired physically, Cha’. I slept quite good.» He nodded to himself in silence, looking down. «I see.» You drowned in the white noise of the pan boiling and the kitchen fan filling the otherwise dead silence, mentally visualizing the blurry picture you had been shocked by. The dizziness grew stronger and a large, deep pit in your stomach opened like a black hole swallowing your feelings. «I’ll talk to him about it as soon as I see him.» You heard Charles’ voice, but didn’t listen, as the cooking water roaring against the steel was the sound you had tuned into, and it grew louder and louder, almost unbearable to your focused hearing. With a quick glance, you saw the white foam resurfacing behind Charle’s silhouette. «Charles, the pan!» you urged. «Oh, fuck!»

>>♥<<

You stared at the plate, keeping it at a distance ahead of you with your fingertips, listening to Charles’ chewing, which never seemed that loud. The chewing stopped, together with his fork clinking against the ceramic, and you felt his eyes fixed upon you. «You need to eat something, y/n.» «Sorry, Charles, I have a messed-up stomach… After all the things I read…» «I know, but please, just have a few bites.» Charles gently pushed the plate back near you. «I can’t see you like this.» It was meant to be an unheard thought, just above a whisper, but the kitchen was so silent you could listen to his breathing. The shining fork on the tablecloth, a small piece of penne pierced; half a bite. Eyes closed, and Pierre was still there. Maybe he hadn’t even texted you: he hadn’t wondered about you at all, but left without warning, completely indifferent to your absence. The invisible wall built brick after brick in the last two weeks suddenly turned gray and heavy, painfully present. Pierre would never love you. The fork crashed against the plate, hand covering your mouth; Charles raised his eyes and stopped his every movement to observe you once again. He saw you hesitantly get up from the chair, quite unsure about what was going on, until the air punched your stomach and caused it to fling upwards, together with all its content. With no time to reach the bathroom, panic building in your chest, you abruptly turned towards the sink behind you, fingers unable to stop the wave climbing up your throat.

Charles got up, as you intended hearing his chair screeching. Not quite sure about what was happening, he first let his arms raise up a bit only to be lowered back down, helpless, indecisive, confused; then he got near you, pulling your hair out of the way, trying not to feel grossed out by the scene. «’m sorry…» you mumbled, breathing through your nausea, hoping the worst had passed. «Are you okay?» he rushed. You shook your head in denial. «Y/n, what’s up?» Your marriage was in shambles after a couple of weeks only and an insufferable urge of hiding from the entire world pulsed like a drill in your head. «I don’t know, but I’ve kind of been feeling sick the last couple of days.» «Are you ill?» Charles sighed, sorry. To think he was lying in somebody’s arms, cuddling in someone else’s warm touch, careless enough to forget about your existence and your feelings, your ego so easily, paired up with the sudden shock and horror of throwing up in front of Charles, put you in the worst state of anxiety and despair. Then, the realization. A sly thought, slithering tantalizingly amidst your scattered mind. What if…? You gripped the counter so hard your knuckles turned pale, washed out, eyes wide opened and bewildered, in fright and disbelief. Your heart ran wild, as your thoughts did, while a sigh of hysteria and awareness triggered your cry.

Charles, who had opened the tap in the meantime and had handed you a piece of paper towel to clean yourself up, slowly put down his hand and frowned, disturbed by how exasperated you sounded. «Please, please, it cannot be… It can’t be true.» you chanted low and quick, but slow and high enough in tone for Charles to understand your words. «What can’t be?» Charles asked, searching for your attention and your eyes through your erratic movements: you rinsed your mouth with water, closed the tap and swiftly dried your face with the piece of paper he was still holding. You stared at him intensely, as much as he did: he immediately read the fear overwhelming you, but still failed to see the reason, which you hoped to be able to communicate without giving it form with words. A couple of seconds were shared in that exchange of terrified glances; and before he was able to say anything else, Charles looked at you pacing quickly to the couch, raising all the pillows in search of something. «Where’s my purse?» you asked, frenzy. «I- I don’t know!» «Did you see my wallet at least?!» You picked up your phone from the ground and pressed in hurry the switching on button, cursing as it took an insufferable amount of time to turn on. Charles stepped right behind you, glancing left and right, pondering your request quickly. «What do you need money for?» Charles shouted, set in panic by your erratic behaviour. With a swift turn, you stared at him once more, eaten alive by anxiety. «A pregnancy test.» You could hear his soundless breath of surprise as he left his mouth ajar, as well as his brain’s gears in motion, getting a grip of the situation. «You… You two…» You gave Charles a regretful and desperate stare, pleading him with your eyes not to judge you harshly for falling into Pierre’s trap, chin twitching, tears pricking your eyes. «It was our wedding night. I just… I just wanted to be happy.»

You broke down in tears before you could end the sentence, covering the face and the shame it displayed with your hands. Charles froze, trying to clear his mind and think of the next step he should take; your cries, though, only distracted him from doing so. «Y/n, hey, come here.» He carefully engulfed you in a hug, shushing you, in an attempt to calm you down. «I’m going to buy a test now, okay? Stay here, sit on the couch and relax. I’ll come back in a second.» The lightweight kiss he pressed onto your head as you plopped down onto the sofa, spent, felt distant and muffled, as much as the door closing shut behind his hurried figure. You stared into the void, replaying the night of the forbidden love over and over again, in search of any possible mistake you two made, to no avail: you had been so enchanted by Pierre and buzzed in bliss that the rerun became fader and fader, the memory even more distant, as if it were a mere fruit of imagination, as if you and Pierre had never been happy together. Before you could realize it, Charles was already flinging the door back open, pouring the content of the whitish plastic bag onto the table, unwrapping the test and placing it in your hand, closing your fingers shut around it.

«Okay, so… It says to hold the stick downwards, so maybe it’s better if we use a cup or something.» Charles opened a cabinet of the bathroom and took out a plastic cup, which he handed to you. «"If testing early, use first urine of the day"… Well, that’s perfect, because you’ve just woken up! “Don’t drink lots of liquid”, done as well… I think we’re good to go.» Sniffing, you stared at Charles, in wait. «W-why are you looking at me like that?» he nervously chuckled. «I need to pee.» «Right!» He immediately rushed out of the bathroom, pressing his lips together in embarrassment.

He leaned against the door, impatiently waiting for you to signal to him to enter back again, which you didn’t. After a couple of minutes, Charles knocked, not able to bear any more silence. «Y/n? Can I come in now?» No answer. Charles put his ear against the varnished wood, trying to capture any sound, knocking once again. He got startled by a sudden yelp echoing from inside the bathroom. «Y/n?» Charles was about to put his hand on the knob, when he heard the lock being sealed under his helplessly slow fingers, which vainly tested the knob in a rush, too late. «Y/n? Please, open the door!» As if it weren’t enough, his phone started ringing and buzzing in his pocket: moving a couple of steps away from the door with a loud sigh, he was struck by the caller. «Pierre?» His name pierced your ears like the tick of a bomb: the pregnancy test in your trembling fingers, you bore your stare into the bright lines signalling the positivity of it. A child. Pierre had just cheated on you and, of all the moments, the pregnancy news had sprung at the most inconvenient time. «Have you heard from y/n? Do you know where she is? I’ve been trying to reach out to her, but she doesn’t answer.» «Yes, she is…» Charles swallowed hard and glanced at the wooden door, still perfectly closed and sealed. «She’s here with me, at my place.» «Oh, thank God. How is she?» «What?» Charles almost choked at Pierre’s enquiry. The thought of your benching figure throwing up in his sink was still vivid and his shirt was somehow slightly damp and stretched. Pierre sighed. «She trusted the news, I suppose…» Charles’ end fell silent for seconds, in which he stared at the door opening and showing your silhouette marked with tears, emotionless, holding the pregnancy test upwards so that he saw the result right as you stepped close to him. «I’m coming over. Don’t let her go, okay? See you soon.» Pierre concluded, impatient. «Bye.» You both stood in silence, thoughts taking over the room. «How can I raise a baby without a father?» The sudden question melted Charles’ heart. «Y/n, it’s going to have a father: Pierre would never leave you alone, even if you two weren’t married and the child weren’t his.» «But I don’t need him as an uncle, I need him as a father and a husband who’s present and loves us both!» To that, Charles couldn’t answer anything: he couldn’t swear Pierre’s love for you, it wasn’t in his power, though he would’ve liked to reassure you in any way possible. He hugged you for the umpteenth time, cradling your never-ending weeping self, mentally uncovering the weight of tragedy: not only you might be hurt by Pierre refusing your affection, but preferring someone else’s physical, carnal company. Discarded, thrown away like a valueless thing, having to face one of the biggest challenges of a woman’s life without the certainty of support from the man you loved.

Charles noticed a swelling point near his heart, tormented by the whole situation, which soon turned into utter panic as you twisted abruptly into his arms, startled by a loud knocking on the door. «Who’s that?» you asked, holding the pregnancy test to your chest and looking around, trembling and confused. Some other knocks thundering through the suite. «Charles! Open the door!» You daggered your eyes to the Monegasque, torn between utter terror and betrayal: why had he made him come over when he was supposed to keep you safe from the whole world, especially from Pierre’s cruelty? Charles stared at you, motionless, waiting for you to make the first move and implicitly give him the consent to unlock the door. «He cannot know.» you stated, attempting to sound firm, and failing to conceal panic. «But-» «You owe me this, for allowing him to come here in the first place. Don’t you dare to say a word about it.» Charles shook his head, eyes full of disapproval yet showing pity; then, without adding any other word, he watched you fiddle with the pregnancy test to hide it beneath your shirt and approached the door to let Pierre in. «Where is she?» Pierre urged, hurried. Your sitting silhouette towered on the couch right in front of him: your profile contrasted the long curtains of the living room and the pale, greyish tones of the weather outside casted on your skin a livid, gloomy shadow. He knelt down before you, trying to get your eyes to look at his, but he was met with the deadliest still stare he had ever seen: your glossy irises worked as a push for his hand to reach and stroke your cheek, but you shied away his touch. «Can you leave us alone for a few minutes, Charles?» The Monegasque mumbled a “Sure” under his breath, drained by the whole situation.

Pierre never stopped observing you with attention, which cost you a lot of effort into not locking gaze with him; and when you finally did, a clench of rage shut your jaw, annoyed by his behaviour. «Aren’t you tired?» «Tired of what?» you spitted out. «Of consuming yourself after a false accusation.» You reluctantly strayed away your eyes from him once again, unluckily charmed by his proximity. «But you’re not consumed, right? You expected it from me, you were waiting for me to make a mistake, weren’t you?» he sarcastically added. «You swore you would love me and trust me until the end of your life, but you didn’t hesitate to buy into whatever lie someone spread to ruin my reputation once again!» «Your reputation! Always your fucking reputation first! And what about mine? Don’t you care about how people will think of me from now on?» «I’m not saying I don’t care, I want to point out the fact that some bastard sold the news on purpose to damage me!» «I don’t give a shit about who did that, you cheated on me!» «I DID NOT! For fuck’s sake, this is what I’m trying to tell you! Someone took an out-of-context picture at a dinner where photographers weren’t allowed to try to ruin me and our relationship as well! Are you so stupid to fall for it too?»

At this point, you were crying without containing anymore; after the heated altercation, you stopped and felt your chest sting with hurt pride and feelings. «I’m stupid for having fallen in love with you since the day I met you.» Your words seemed to stun Pierre: his lips had parted in surprise at your confession, as much as his eyelids had uncovered completely the majestic blue eyes now bored into yours. The silence which followed your unwanted declaration made you curl into a ball, sobbing loudly to yourself. As soon as you felt a pair of arms embracing you, you fought back to avoid them with little whines and cries, only to be defeated by its comforting warmth: you let Pierre seal your bubble of despair, like a shield. «I’ll prove to you I did nothing, y/n, I promise. Nobody should’ve dared to write about us the way they did.» What Pierre reckoned to be soothing words weren’t reassuring to your ears at all: the missed reaction to your hopeless love for him fuelled your fears concerning the buried, but growing life in your womb. How could a child live without love? How could you? A sudden wave of nausea made you break the embrace Pierre had engulfed you in, bringing a hand over your mouth yet another time, eyes shut. «Don’t you feel good? What’s wrong?» he unconsciously put his hand on your thigh, affectionately squeezing it, as he asked. «I cooked some pasta and it tasted awful. My fault.» You quickly glanced at Charles, who had rejoined the room, getting near the couch. His stare on you was stern and tender at the same time, communicating both his blame and his will to help you cover up the pregnancy, for the moment, at least. «You’ll never learn how to cook, right?» Pierre snorted. «Probably not.» Charles huffed a smile, happy to have brightened the mood of the room a tiny bit. «I’m a bit hungry, though. Got anything in the pantries?» Pierre asked. «I’ll go check!»

While Charles walked away and left you alone once more, you sniffed and dried your cheeks, gazing down, looking away from Pierre’s burning and suddenly careful stare. «I called you a thousand times yesterday.» he spoke low, as not to be heard. You shook your head, smally. «I think you know why my phone was switched off.» «I came back home and I saw the mess in the kitchen.» he ignored your words. «What? Were you disappointed about not having dinner served?» Pierre pressed his lips together, holding back the quick answer rolling off his tongue. And then he decided to let it out. «I was worried about you.» No, he wasn’t, you told yourself. He’s trying to fool me. Still, the heartfelt tone he used to deliver the sentence rose a commotion deep in your soul: the gentle chords of golden love vibrating for him only were put in restless motion at the sound of the confession. It was just so small, but your entire feelings could feast with it for months, for years, after bearing starvation for as long. «I’ve already talked with my lawyer to sue the journalists and the source of the rumour for defamation.» he caressed your cheek, slowly, as not to startle you with the touch. «I won’t let anyone come between us. Soon it’ll be again just you and me, only us.»

As much as you would’ve liked to trust his whispered words, soft as you had never heard him talk ever before, your choked lie laid untold and yet high like a wall in the room. Pierre leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, fingers still lingering over your face. Flushing your eyelids down, you recalled the same tenderness being offered to you on other occasions, too short to your liking, too faintly impressed in the memory’s film, too brutally in contrast with the bittersweet tumult raging inside of you. «I need you by my side.» Maybe you had imagined it, as it left Pierre’s lips lighter than a whisper; or, maybe, it was the first time you had witnessed some kind of fragility and sweetness in him, just so that you could fall for him even deeper and harder.

The following days, the tension you anticipated to lay between you and Pierre was replaced by a layer of anguish and plainness, wrapping you like a wet, cold cover: the pregnancy test you had hidden carefully haunted your thoughts throughout the day, making you insensitive to Pierre’s attempts at building back again a sense of familiarity, and kept you awake at night, gripping the sheets tight, shaking away the loneliness of the present and of the future.

You knew you didn’t have much time before being forced to tell Pierre: but you had never been as scared to lose him as you were, walking side by side into the paddock, sitting on a stool in the garage, avoiding your husband’s stare while he kissed your cheek, gentle. The weight of your mind drew your gaze down, to the floor. «It’s so cold in here, isn’t it?» You peeked upward at Esteban entering the garage, rubbing his arms as to shake them up from coldness; to be fair, Texas’ air was far from cold, and you struggled interpreting his sardonic smile. Pierre turned around to throw an annoyed look at him, as he gathered the upper part of the suit higher to zip it up. Having gained both of your attention, Esteban fixed his eyes on you, in mischief. «It’s so sad to see a couple being so distant and cold to each other…» You frowned, surprised by the unusual tone of his voice and the sparkle of malice shimmering on his features. Esteban tilted his head, still looking at you, his expression now turning to an unbearable shade of pity, masked by a sinister grin. «Poor y/n… I had told you Pierre would mess up.» «It’s none of your business, you don’t know a fuck!» Pierre shouted, crossing the garage to face him directly. «And stop addressing her like you’ve known her forever.» he added in a lower tone, threatening. Esteban glanced at you back again, letting out an amused scoff. «Didn’t you ever tell him?» «Stop talking to her! Take it out on me and leave her out of this!» The increasing tone of Pierre’s voice, as well as Esteban’s cornering words, made you stand up from the seat and left your mouth dry like the desert, no chance to reply. «Pierre, she can decide on her own if she wants to talk with me or not, you don’t control her. Is he always acting like that with people getting close to you?» Pierre, of course, anticipated your reactionless self. «No, only with dickheads like you! Fuck yourself and don’t get near to her!» «Isn’t it a bit pretentious for someone who cheated on his wife?» The sentence sorted the effect Esteban clearly was expecting: Pierre’s fingers gripped his suit tight, pushing him a few steps backwards due to the threatening force he used. «IT WAS YOU! You made the picture, you were there!» «Pierre, please…» your voice, shaky and feeble, made Esteban laugh. «Stop fucking laughing! Who gave you the right to ruin both our lives?!» «Oh, trust me, Pierre, if I wanted to ruin her, I had a far more interesting story… Which I think you should hear.» With one, fierce shrug, he got rid of Pierre’s tight grab, pointing his eyes back at you. «I was her boyfriend, back in high school, when you used to hang all out together with Charles.» You stood lifeless, dreading the moment Pierre would turn to give you a disappointed or maybe even mad look; but he didn’t. Esteban kept going. «You’ve always had her on your tail, but you never noticed she was in love with you… I’ve never seen anyone more pathetic.» he let out a snort. «She had so little self-respect to let me take her virginity away in a club’s bathroom… She used me like a fuck-toy and then discarded me. This is the girl you married.»

The whole garage fell silent, since nobody dared to interrupt the helpless flow of words. An involuntary yell escaped your lips as Pierre ferociously crashed Esteban’s back onto the back wall, finally getting a reaction from the mechanics and engineers, trying to get in between the two to separate them. Pierre was screaming in French, at the top of his lungs, defending you – unbeknownst to you; Esteban simply stood without reacting much, as he had done years earlier at the same physical attack he had experienced, but this time his revenge was consumed. He knew he had won after hearing Pierre shouting it was over; seeing him approaching you with big strides and hugging you, leaving the box without uttering any other word. Reading your expression on the verge of crying, a sick pleasure overtook him. He had won the war.

«Cheers, les gars!» «Cheers!» Amongst the choir of glasses jingling, toasting in delight, you raised yours without being able to reach everyone’s cup, then obliged to set your eyes on the non-alcoholic beverage you had ordered. You had received numerous side-eyed glances and mocking exclamations for even daring to ask for a banal juice on the celebration night of Pierre’s new contract with Aston Martin, which came after the unexpected departure of Lance. «Someone will have to drive us home tonight, and I don’t think Pierre is going to spare himself…» you half-joked, as an excuse. Everyone bought it with a loud chuckle, except for Charles, who didn’t miss any of your movements, bearing the incommensurable weight of truth on his chest.

He had been texting you quite a lot in the last few days: you had informed him of the explosive moments lived inside Alpine’s garage, ultimately leading to Pierre signing with Aston for next year; he had asked you, in turn, how things were now going with Pierre, if you trusted his version of the story. A few nights earlier, while reading Charles’ texts, you had looked down at Pierre, who was peacefully heaving against your chest. You couldn’t tell whether he had fallen asleep to the soothing head scratches you had been giving him since you had snuggled on the bed, as silence and quietness lingered in the air. “Did you tell him?” Pierre’s arm encircled your waist, radiating warmth all throughout your core: it served as another subtle reminder of the news yet to be shared. Though, you had never felt more terrified: it was the first time in years that you perceived Pierre’s affection being that close. Announcing the pregnancy might have taken away the precious blossom of his love, which you now couldn’t live without. Charles knew your fear, he could read it well between the lines, and he hoped you would soon rely on Pierre to get the support you’d need.

Drinking plain juice didn’t prevent you from joining friends on the dance floor, gripping handfuls of hair and shaking it to the thick, hot air of the club. Standing still at the edge of the crowd, sipping on a cocktail with eyes fixed on the group – on you, mainly – Charles and Pierre talked, undisturbed. «What are you looking at?» the Monegasque asked with a smirk. Pierre didn’t answer, he didn’t stray his irises from your dancing silhouette, drowning and resurfacing in the crowd. «She’s beautiful.» «As if you haven’t been telling me this for the past ten years, Pierre.» Charles chuckled, taking a sip from his own drink. «It’s different, now.» «How so?» Pierre hesitated before answering, gathering the right words to express his muted feelings. «Last Monday, when I came back home and I couldn’t find her, I freaked out as I’ve never done before. I called her twenty-five times, left a fucking voicemail – who does that anymore? I just didn’t know what to do, I was panicking. I slept on the couch thinking she’d wake me up after coming back at night.» «I should’ve warned you she was with me, sorry.» Pierre lightly shook his head. «No, I think I deserved that, for all the times I treated her bad.» After a small pause, Charles, frowning, prompted another question. «So what’s changed?» «I… I’m falling in love with her.» he breathed out in realization, enchanted by your vision, watching you move like a fairy amongst the large group of his friends enjoying the blasting music. Charles couldn’t stop himself from snorting and laughing. «What?» «That’s a lie.» Pierre looked at him puzzled; Charles took another sip, smiling in delight and amusement. «You’ve always loved her; but you didn’t know what love was yet.» «Said the philosopher!» Their laughter was so bright and loud that you turned your head towards the two of them patting each other friendly. Pierre’s features were painted in deep, rich warm tones, under the dim lights of the club; the sudden need to refuge in his arms and rest your lips on his draw your eyes to him like an undefeatable magnet, whose force he seemed to feel as well. «I think I know now.» Pierre said, gaze turned back again on you.

>>♥<<

Exiting the bathroom, you saw Charles waiting right near the door frame, arms crossed, distressed expression, wetting his dry lips as soon as you got near him. «Is it all good?» he asked. «Jeez, Charles! Can’t I just go to the bathroom now?» «You ran away at the speed of light! Pierre was confused and I had to stop him from following you.» Sighing, you quickly rubbed your temples. «Listen… I don’t like lying to Pierre. You need to tell him, y/n, he has to know.» His pleading voice twisted your stomach in a pang of regret and fear. «I want to see a doctor first… And I need to come back home for that.» «Why don’t you try with a clinic here?» You darted your eyes at Charles, half in disbelief, half surprised at the idea. «I can help you find one, I’ve got some contacts. Plus, I think you should check as soon as possible if everything’s okay with…» «With me, yes.» you breathed out, feeling Pierre’s heavy stare on you both. Before you knew it, he was making his way amidst the crowd with a frown, seeing you and Charles confabulate away from indiscreet ears. «He’s coming.» you whispered. Charles, visibly frustrated and failing to hide it, huffed and waited for the storm to run over both of you. And it came. Pierre’s body was burning a few centimeters away from you, igniting shame and terror, knowing you were putting the newfound trust on the line, like a fool. But it isn’t your fault, a part of you said. «Why did you stop? I want to hear about the State affair too.» Not willing to test Charles’ trust for the umpteenth time, you jumped in before he could add anything to his deadly stare directed towards Pierre. «I was telling him I’m tired and I’d like to go home, but he thinks we should stay here a bit more since we’re celebrating you.» A soft caress of his palm was enough to melt the hurried tension entangling your muscles, sure he had bought into the lie after seeing a veil of fondness cover his blue eyes. «Oh, don’t worry, I was thinking of calling it a day too. We can always party more than once, after all.»

>>♥<<

The shirts had slipped away swiftly in a matter of seconds, as your shivering skin warned your senses. You kissed in passion, somehow already accustomed to each other’s pace, yet so new and undiscovered beneath the physical layer of quickened breaths, intense heartbeats and roaming hands. Pierre dragged your head up with his long lasting, tantalizing kiss, trapping both your wrists with a smirk which spread further blush on your cheeks. «So that piece of douchebag was your first time?» He didn’t seem to wait for an answer, as he leaned down to your neck, tasting your skin open-mouthed. You simply moaned, incapable of uttering a word. It was the first time he enquired you about the awful talk you had had in the garage with Esteban and, noticing the unexpected silence on the topic for days, you had simply guessed he would never tackle it again. Still, getting drunk had probably loosen him up more than he would ever admit. «Pierre…» «What? I’m just curious.» «I don’t want to be reminded of that day.» you whined, already out of breath. Mischief gleamed in Pierre’s blue irises, pupils enlarged to take in as much of you as they could. You were able to interpret his intentions a few seconds after his stare: he buried his face behind your earlobe, teasing your skin with his teeth, just enough to gather a shot of blood cursing pleasure and electricity with its flow right where he was leaving kisses. «Is it because you don’t feel… proud of yourself?» he murmured against your neck. Guilt tangled in the middle of your chest, words and acts painfully reminding you of the infamous night. Only after years, you could realize how despicable and poor your choice had been; though, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame it. After all, it had led you to embracing Pierre as close as you would’ve never even imagined in your wildest fantasies. «Is it because you think you acted selfishly?» A sweet yet poisonous bite was left just above your collarbone, another soft breath escaping your control. «Because you hurt people around you?» Now Pierre looked hungrily at you, halting just a few centimeters from your parted lips, letting your focus drift towards his quick hands unbuttoning your jeans, as if they didn’t know any better. The stormy meaning hidden behind those words seemed senseless to you, impossible: and still his irises showed turmoil… Hurt. You were almost about to mouth a question, something along the lines of “What do you mean?”, maybe you even did; but you couldn’t tell, because Pierre thrusted his body upon yours all of a sudden, diluting your thoughts in a stain of useless reasoning, moans and whimpers the only incoherent reactions. «Is it because… you wished you were with someone else?» The floodgate of your heart crushed open: it rocked your body in such an intense wave that you had to hold onto Pierre, gripping his shoulders tight, while he kissed down on your neck once again, lavishly, anywhere he could print his love on you.

Overwhelm of senses almost ended up in a gracious state of numbness, in which Pierre seemed to be the only actor: he handled you with ease and carefulness, though intoxicated by the physical contact, and before you had realized, the night was consumed, the abatjour casting a gentle warm shade on your bare, entangled bodies. Drunk in love, you chuckled in silence, warmed by Pierre’s touch. «What’s that?» he asked. «I… When I’m with you, I feel both anxious and so happy I could die.» «Why is it funny?» «Because it’s childish. I’m still crushing on you like a kid, I only know extremes.» He hummed, pausing for a few seconds. «Why do I make you nervous?» he then enquired, again. «Because I’m scared to lose you.» It sounded so fragile that Pierre involuntarily tightened his arms around you, drawing you nearer. And deep in thought, he stared at the void. «I think I know how you feel.» «What?» you turned your head around to look at him, as if you hadn’t paid attention to his words. «I’ve felt this way too, since… forever.»

>>♥<<

The faint sound of fingers typing filled the kitchen, otherwise silent. You had woken up early, after rolling in the sheets for hours, not sleeping much; you had had a little bit of breakfast – as much as your upset stomach would allow you to – while you scrolled the online page of one of the clinics Charles had suggested you, searching for a cell phone number. You stopped, engraving the digits in your mind. If you had dialed, a spiral of appointments’ calls, check-ups and exams would follow, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop it from tumbling and assaulting you. Pierre would know soon. The mere thought scared you to death. As you saw Pierre's ruffled hair and creased eyes peeked out inside the kitchen area only to direct the slow and unsteady steps towards the bathroom, you bolted as fast as a lighting. «No, the bathroom is mine!» You stomped the door in front of his face, preventing him from stealing the precious space and time to clean yourself.

Pierre quickly eyed the laptop on the marble counter, figuring out you must've been up for quite a while; a stained mug and tiny crumbles were other signals of your silent presence, lingering around his numbed senses through the waking. He had missed the warmth of your body, the securing hold of his arms around your waist, the sweet scent cursing through him while resting his head close to yours, near enough to perceive the undeniable pull drawing him like a magnet. «You're lucky I love you!» he yelled, in order for you to drink in his amused tone. You wished you didn't. That only sentence made your guts twist and horribly enhanced the dizziness, obliging you to grip the sink tight. You had waited so many years for those words to have a meaning and now you might have it. Still, you found yourself to dread them. You were about to ruin everything.

He had not intended to; he had tried, vainly, to stop himself from looking at the screen of your laptop, but the gaze dropped involuntarily, fast, the quickest glance, while placing the mug on the counter. And the first words he read only invited him to linger on the page further. A clinic. A phone number written in bold cyphers. «Y/n?» Resurfacing from the trance status you had fallen into while lazily brushing your teeth, you answered with a whine. «Can you come here for a sec?» You deeply inhaled in annoyance, sure it was either to pull a prank on you or to get some help with the absurdly expensive coffee machine Pierre had asked for in the suite - and didn't quite know how to use yet. The puzzled look on his face told you right away all you needed, as much as his fingers brushing the laptop’s pointer pad. «Why were you searching-» «Why are you going through my stuff!?» You flung yourself onto the pc, pulling it away from his touch and his sight, hoping that could be enough to erase the content from his thoughts. As you imagined, it didn't. «What's that for? You left it spread open, how was I supposed not to see it?» Pierre followed your gushing figure placing the laptop back in the bedroom, closing the door after you two. «Can you please stop a second and explain to me what's going on?» Your body seemed to slip under Pierre's touch, then ultimately gave in, anxiety paralyzing all movements but trembling. Immediately noticing your distress, he stroked your hair in reassurance, trying to calm himself down as well through the action. «Y/n, I'm not asking again. What's the clinic for?» You avoided his stare as much as answering. «Did something happen? I need to know, y/n.» he wetted his lips, visibly frustrated. «It isn't just you, now. It's both of us. We're in this together.» After minutes spent crafting the most realistic lie, painfully witnessing Pierre being tender and caring only to be fooled by you, you were finally ready to utter a word. «I had booked a routine appointment with a gynecologist before I knew about the trip, but we aren't getting home soon, and I didn't want to miss it.» Pierre's forehead distended like a folded sheet laid spread and fresh onto the mattress, irises still concealing a hint of doubt. «Why didn't you tell me?» «I thought it'd be embarrassing… for both.» «It isn't to me.» he said, softly. «And you can talk to me about anything, you know that.» You rested your cheek upon his palm, enjoying the caress with eyes closed, quietly accepting the lie still holding up the invisible wall of miscommunication you purposely built. «Especially when the topic is dear to me.» Pierre's smug tone lifted a stone from your shoulders, as well as dropping it in your chest, heart swimming in a lake of mixed emotions. You would’ve liked to cast a spell and stop the flow of time, because bittersweet guilt and happiness were the telltale signs a fairytale was possible, after all, almost within reach. And you had ruined it.

>>♥<<

A thought had been flying around his mind all day: jogging lightly before free practice, revising the track with his performance engineer, laughing and joking around with other drivers ahead of media duties. It hadn't bothered him, it hadn't shown; not even when he came back to the hotel and didn't find you there as he expected. It slipped from his consciousness even while drifting into sleep, your scent dazzling and lulling him. It harboured beneath the surface, though, and its stealth presence made itself evident - yet misunderstood - on Saturday morning. «Where's my shirt?» Pierre asked abruptly, entering the bedroom in a hurry. Despite him trying to get you to get up multiple times as he got ready, you were still lying in bed, sick to the core, unwilling to admit it, exhausted already by the day. «Y/n, c'mon, we need to go!» Pierre huffed, poorly concealing the annoyance. You whined, weakly raising the duvet in order to get seated. Before Pierre could snort again and feel even more dissatisfied with the sudden lack of energy you showed, he hesitated on your dark eyebags, on the slow movement you dragged your limbs with, on the aura of fatigue encircling you. He stepped closer, taking your arms and lifting you up, guiding you to the kitchen steadily, but still rather quickly. As you took a seat, he placed before you an amount of food – for breakfast – which you would've always considered sufficient and that now seemed exaggerated. «If you're not hungry, drink at least. You need to keep hydrated.» Pierre's demanding voice partially saved you from the impasse of refusing food, so you obligingly sipped the cup of coffee he had pushed towards you without adding a word.

From that moment onwards, Pierre eyed you with a carefulness unknown before. He only realized now how sluggish and overall low-key you had been behaving: though, the restless rhythm of flights, hotel check-ins, suits packing and racing sessions were draining enough to present themselves as valid reasons for your lack of verve. Taking your purse underarm in a hurry, you crossed eyes with Pierre’s. «I’m ready, let’s go.» Dumbfounded by his sudden aplomb, you stood in silence, hair barely brushed, shirt carelessly half untucked in your jeans; you didn’t stray your stare from Pierre’s while he slowly took your hands in his, a strange thoughtfulness guiding the movement. The silence said more than you two were capable of. It seemed to be thrown back in time to those longing, perusing stares you studied each other with, always analyzing expressions and reactions, never sure of getting it right yet desperately needy of the other. You both swam comfortably in that tacit conversation, exchanging fears, doubts, loving care; but Pierre knew it was time to go – it had been for a while, already – and couldn’t restrain himself from clearing his throat. «Yep, I told you. Let’s go.» you whispered.

>>♥<<

It had been Charles' idea, to have a brunch all together inside the paddock: he had found a small sort of restaurant, right in front of Pirelli's backdoor, unfrequented by VIPs and paparazzi. If you didn't know Charles well enough, you would've guessed he simply wanted to check on you; but him craving some good old company and wanting to shy away from the crowd of the track was the most likely scenario. Hanging out together, the three of you, felt like a fever dream, every single time: the memories would merge, the jokes and the laughs would crack on their own with such a flow and an ease unexplainable to anybody else. Sitting next to the most important people of your life was a luck you would never take for granted. «…should buy one. What do you think?» «I think that’s awesome, really.» You became self-conscious of the wedding ring pressing Pierre’s name onto your skin as an endless kiss, recalling the ebbing moments of the day you became one. «Y/n?» Again. The wave knocking at the pit of your stomach, the sudden harmony of smells emanated by your dishes was quick to stir your quiescent sickness. «Y/n? Did you hear the question?» Charles’ voice obliged you to answer. «Uh? Yeah, yes, I did.» you composed yourself as quickly as you could. «I think it’s a beautiful opportunity for you.» «We’ll help you, if we can do anything for it. Like, if you need taste testers, we’re more than happy!» Pierre chuckled. You forced a smile too, in order not to contrast your husband’s bright expression. However, it all spiraled when a pile of used tires – the F3 free practice had finished less than a half an hour earlier, you reasoned – was dragged in a small interstice near Pirelli's building, leaving an unbearable smell of burned rubber. You felt yet again nauseous, making it blatantly obvious clasping your mouth and nose, focusing on your breathing, eyes closed. Pierre and Charles' stares laid on you in a single motion, both catching on what was happening (with different awareness, clearly). Pierre couldn't let the memory of your missed breakfast fade into nothing, and his racing mind quickly figured you must be ill; he trapped your free hand in a grab which you immediately complied, he got up and kneeled next to you, seeing you didn't give any signs of the clench in your stomach loosening.

In the meantime, Charles quietly and politely asked you if you needed a glass of water, if you'd want to go to the restroom, to which your silence only fueled his helplessness and sly embarrassment. «I'm okay, guys.» you breathed out, finally removing your fingers from your lips, but still too scared to open your eyelids and be attacked by their sharp stares. «No, you're not, y/n. You've been sick for at least a week.» Pierre's statement worked as a tymbal clang to both you and Charles, so that you looked at each other briefly but intensely, wondering whether the ticking bomb laying untold amongst you three had just exploded without you noticing. “Tell him” was painted in capital letters, bold, inside Charles' green irises.

Internalizing the truth impossible to fool, you let Pierre's fingertips gently move your chin towards him, since you had enchanted in reflection on Charles. Suddenly confronting your husband's – yes, because he was your husband – unexplainable beauty like it was the first time you really saw him, the news seemed to brim out your lips, overflowing with contrasting emotions you weren't able to conciliate. Gathering all your courage despite the trembling of your chin, you reciprocated the hold of Pierre's hands: it was building up, from your chest up to the throat, bypassing the rationality check. «I need to tell you something.» It was nothing but a whisper; Charles, unknowing to either you or Pierre, slowly got up from his chair, standing near you and placing his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. Pierre waited in silence for your words, pupils scattered all around your features trying to get the smallest hint of which nature the news was. The tears pricked your eyes as soon as the thought hit your synapsis. «I'm pregnant, Pierre.» Releasing the pent-up distress, finally relieved by the burden of secrecy, you cried freely, ready to face the consequences of the news.

A part of you expected an endless chain of angry sentences and despair, complaints, immaturity. And the part of you who didn't expect such a reaction, or at least hoped for a better outcome without much conviction, still managed to astonish before the taken aback but sweet curve of Pierre's eyebrows, unbelievably moved by your words. «Really? Are you sure?» His mistrust annoyed you slightly and made you scoff through tears. But before you could answer with a snappy remark, he was all over you, hugging your sadness away, melting in an embrace that swiped bad omens, that dissolved the clouds of doubt in a sparkling, bubbly dust of relief. Pierre left a long peck on your forehead, which only freed tears from running ceaselessly. «I can't believe it…» he whispered out of an uncontainable smile. Your body and soul, both in shock from experiencing the most releasing happiness, trembled like leaves under the wind of Pierre's affection. He glanced at Charles, looking for confirmation, which he found expressed through the dimples of his best friend; then focused back again on you, whose reaction Pierre couldn't quite make out. «You're happy, right?» he asked, almost fearful of the answer. Sobbing a laugh, you leaned against his hand cupping your cheek and enveloped it with yours, fond. «Of course I am.» He paused, taking a full look at you in excitement and amazement, letting the thought settle in his heart. «When did you find out?» he asked, cupping your cheek as a fragile corolla of petals. Your mouth dried out, your throat was still knotted; thankfully Charles beat you on time in answering. «Almost two weeks ago.» You waited for it, you anticipated the hatred and the – righteous – disappointment in getting to know that his best friend had witnessed and received the news first. Fear invested you once again, through sobs and hiccups. «Y/n… Look at me.» It all seemed to down on you at once: sat in your weakness, you had disclosed all your cards and were now the most vulnerable you’d ever been with him. Not even when you had promised in front of your families to love him for the rest of your life, not even lying in his embrace and cuddling with him after breathing out affection and pleasure on top of each other’s skin; no rejection could hurt you more than now, while carrying two lives inside of one body, two souls, doubling the sorrow. His serious demeanour only spiked up your anxiety, as you realized you weren’t ready at all, neither emotionally nor mentally, to face him yet.

He shut his eyes closed, he prepared himself to talk; you braced yourself for the impact of the cruel reality. It had been fun, until it had lasted. This is no fairytale, you chanted to yourself, lulling your crying soul. «I love you.» You looked at him dumbfounded, waiting for the answer to be completed with a "like a friend", or something of the sort which would've stabbed your heart with pain as he would always do; but a peaceful silence followed his words, and the longer you stared at each other, the deeper the realization would set in your heart. The promise you had been waiting for since the day you had met Pierre, which you expected to hear at the altar, was now vowed to you, him still kneeled down. «When…?» you involuntarily voiced your reasoning, not able to make sense of it, caught by total surprise. «Since forever. It just took me a while to realize…», he then glanced at Charles. «… and the help of a friend.» Spontaneously, you flung your arms around him, heart aching in joy and bliss. You watered and creased Pierre’s shirt, feeling life flourish just by listening to his words; to seal them, he plastered a kiss on your reddish, smooth lips, and heaven reached earth. «A baby, uh?» Pierre said almost to himself, placing his spread hands on your belly. You couldn’t help but have eyes brimming with emotion, gently brushing with your fingers his: was there anything which could make you happier and more strongly bonded together? «Charles… I think we’ll need plenty of your ice-cream in the near future.» «Hey!» you patted Pierre’s shoulder, amusingly offended. «Oh, for sure. I’ll make you a discount, since you’ll buy it in large quantity.» «Guys!» you laughed, trying to stop their endless flow of jokes. With your left hand still pressed onto Pierre’s, you gazed down at your wedding ring, shining and glimmering under the sunlight. Maybe, no matter how unhoped and unplanned, yours was truly a fairytale.

to @gaslysainz: Thanks again for the request! I really hope you’ll like it…I’m not fully satisfied with how it turned out, but I couldn’t work on it any further 😂 I’d be glad to know what you think 🥹❤️

AND TO ALL OF YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND FOR BEING PATIENT! I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

Navigation || Masterlist

#f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fic #esteban ocon x reader #esteban ocon x y/n #esteban ocon x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 angst #formula 1 x reader #golden post