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viennakarma · 5 months

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Everything I Wanted I.

LESTAPPEN X READER (Part 1)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. I know I said it was a oneshot, but the thing got out of hand, and I had to split it in half. Soon there will be a part 2! English is not my first language, so please ignore any mistake!

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“They’re not friends, you understand? They’re rivals, and that’s all they’ll ever be.”

You stand, hugging your helmet firmly against your chest, your dad’s words louder than the ringing in your ear from the way he slapped the side of your head. You were 9 and it was your first time competing in a karting competition. You tried to befriend the other kids your age, but as soon as your dad called you away, fuming, you knew it was a mistake.

You followed your dad’s orders, and didn’t talk to any of the boys again. Max was already cold towards you, so he pretty much ignored your existence. But Charles was more talkative, and as you stopped answering him, he became taunting, annoying, but you didn’t fall behind, you used to clap back at him with the same intensity.

Sometimes you eavesdropped on their conversations, initially it wasn’t intentional, but they were always complaining about you, calling you names, and you realized your dad was right, they would never see you as a friend or equal, only as a rival.

One day you’re walking by when you hear your name in their conversation.

“Nah, don’t worry about Y/N,” Max shrugged, his accent thick, as he pointed to the side of his temple “she’s a little slow, but maybe she’ll catch up.”

You stood there, his words echoing in your head, she’s a little slow, that was a kind way to call you stupid, which, compared to the way your father called you that many times, it was much sweeter. You shouldn’t have let that get to your head, specially said that way. But then again, you were 11, and you kept hearing those words again and again in your head. You never considered yourself dumb, your grades in school were average, and whenever you had time off of karting to study for your exams, your grades became even better, a little above average.

And despite knowing that, after going back home after the competition, you spent the whole Saturday at the local library, studying everything you could find on motorsports and Formula One. You lent books on strategy, history, and even mechanics. Every spare time you had, you spent reading those books, or lending others. You didn’t want to be slow as they had called you.

After that, you stopped talking to Max completely.

“This is a waste!” Your dad shouted, and you flinched, taking a discreet step back, away from him, trying to avoid him getting physical.

You had argued with him, which made him more furious. You tried to tell him it wasn’t your fault, you were just as good at racing as everyone else, maybe better, but no one was willing to give a girl a chance. It made him even angrier.

“You had one job! You get into F4 on your first try!”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t your fault. That they weren’t willing to give a girl a chance, even if you were better than half of the boys who made it to F4. But your dad didn’t care about any of it, he wanted you to succeed or nothing. He used to always say that anything below first place is failure.

So he decided you, at 14, weren’t worth the money he spent on karting. And he simply left. Making peace with the fact that your dad never saw you as his kid, but more like an investment, was hard.

“You’re never going to be a Formula 1 champion.” Was the last thing he said to you, before dropping you at your mom’s to never come back.

Living with your mom ever since your dad gave you up was something else. She had lost everything after the divorce, thanks to a prenup she had naively signed without knowing anything about it. So when you moved in with her, you noticed how the house was smaller than your dad’s, you two slept in the single room that was there. Your mom worked two jobs living paycheck to paycheck, and you barely saw her. But she was kind, comforting.

You soon realized that she wouldn’t be able to provide for your karting career. So you lied, you told her your dad was still paying for the karting, and you found two part time jobs to pay for racing. You mom worked so much, she didn’t notice your absence in the afternoons, when you went to work in an auto repair shop. Sometimes, on the rare occasions she was off work in the afternoons, you lied and told her you were out with friends, or studying in the library or even doing extracurriculars. You had the best intentions, you used to tell yourself at night whenever you laid awake, you knew she would blame herself or even work herself to death to provide for you.

The entirety of the next year was a constant struggle, and you worked, and scrapped and lied your way through the entire karting competition. It was one of your last chances to get into F4, and you weren’t sure you could live another year that way, without a sponsor.

When the competition ended, you were second place overall. Your kart had problems during the race and you were sad that it affected your performance in a race you could’ve won.

You walked closer as you saw a few of the other boys gathering around some adults, you eyed them curiously. As soon as you noticed who they were, you swallowed. They were probably scouts, it was very common in finals of these competitions, you were used to it. You also were used to being ignored by all of them scouts. You had tried many times before to make connections and make yourself known, maybe even meeting a potential sponsor, but they always ignored you. They weren’t interested in a girl, they didn’t care about a woman in motorsports. Your only hope was that one day you would meet a female scout and she would see your potential.

But meanwhile, there were only men, and they didn’t give two fucks about you. So you didn’t even get close enough to join, you heard Charles and Max talking with them, and you just turned around, going back to your kart.

You pulled a few tools from your backpack, working to fix the difficulties you felt during the race.

“What are you doing?” A man approached you, crouching close to watch your work. You briefly looked up, the guy was wearing sunglasses and a cap, just a normal guy, looking like someone’s dad.

“I’m fixing my steering wheel, it was a bit stuck during the race so I had to double the force used to be able to make it work,” you explained, and he nodded.

“You finished second, right? Why are you here by yourself?” The man asked.

“The other kids don’t like me very much. And they’re talking to the scouts,” you shrugged, trying not to think about all the opportunities they would get and you wouldn’t.

“You should be there, no? Meeting scouts is important for your career.”

“They’re not very interested in a girl racer. Believe me, I know.” You muttered, finishing with the steering wheel, testing to see if it was working all right. You turned, fixing your left rear tyre. The tyre wasn’t responding very well to the braking, “besides, my kart won’t fix itself, right? Look, you see how this tyre is slower to respond to my braking? It messed up with my balance during the race. I could have won.”

“Shouldn’t you take your kart somewhere to get it fixed?” The man asked, helping you unscrew the tyre.

“Can’t afford it,” you said, “I’m saving to try and get into F4, so I can’t spare any money on this one.”

You weren’t usually this talkative with new people, mostly keeping to yourself. But maybe you were missing a grownup figure in your life since your dad had dipped and your mom was always busy. And that man sounded really interested in your stuff, so it felt natural explaining to him.

“So, no one sponsoring you?” He asked, which made you look at him again, hesitantly.

“No, uh, I had one but he dropped me last year” you said, leaving out that part that it was your dad.

“You know who I am?” The man asked and you looked at him, shaking your head.

“Someone’s dad? I mean, I haven’t been introduced to all the kids and their parents yet, but you’re kinda familiar, so-” As you were babbling and trying to explain, he took off the cap and sunglasses, and you immediately recognized him, “oh my god!”

“Shh, shh” he silenced you, putting the disguise back.

“You’re Kimi Raikkonen!” You whispered, and he nodded.

“I’ll be your new sponsor, eh? What do you say?”

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nodded.

"How do you know I'm good enough for a sponsorship?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, are you good enough for a sponsorship?" He asked. He had been keeping an eye out at that very category, and you had caught his attention as seemingly smart and emotionally controlled with the kart.

"I'm the best of the bunch," you smiled at him and you won him over with that answer.

Kimi became your lifeline, in a way. His family was quick to embrace you in an affectionate way you would’ve never expected of them. They invited you for their little New Year’s party, and you eventually told everything about your life to Kimi. His wife Minttu had also taken you as one of her own and their kids liked you a lot.

Under Minttu’s suggestion, Kimi also enrolled you in language classes, so besides English, you spent the next years learning French and Spanish, and you also caught a little Finnish from being so close to them.

You kept pushing your way up from F4 to F3 and so on, but instead of climbing it steadily like the boys, you had to win two or three times more than them to prove you were worth taking the next step.

You were 16 when your paths crossed with the boys from your childhood again. They recognised you, but they never really talked to you, so they didn't this time around either.

Coming out of the bathroom you once again caught a conversation, and you stopped dead as soon as you heard your name.

“No, not really… I don’t see her like that at all- she’s- uh-” Charles was speaking, probably looking for the words in english, “-she’s more like one of the boys.”

You paused, your breath hitched.

“Yeah,” that was Max, “I don’t see her like that either. I guess she doesn’t care about the things girls her age do.”

You felt a lump in your throat, retreating back to the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror, watching your face as the tears fell down on your cheeks. You were dressed in your regular racing day attire, cargo pants and a sweater. You didn’t wear makeup and your hair was all frizzy because of the helmet.

The next time you went to the Raikkonen residence, you pulled Minttu aside one moment.

“I want to be pretty. Will you help me?”

You two went through a long chat with Minttu reassuring you that you were pretty in your own way and you insisting you wanted to be pretty like other girls, more feminine and girly.

When you entered F2 after the winter break, you felt and looked like some better version of yourself. Minttu had helped you set a skincare routine that was already helping clear your face from teenage acne. She also took you to a hair salon, where you trimmed your hair and made a few highlights. She upgraded your wardrobe, and even if you tried to refuse saying it was too much, she said it was a Christmas gift and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Your path until reaching F1 was slow and steady, and you were a reserve driver for two years before finally getting a seat at McLaren. You knew Kimi probably had a hand in getting you a chance, but he denied every time you asked.

Kimi told you the raw truth before the season started. He and Minttu sat you down and talked about how the world and Formula 1 would expect more of you than of any other rookie. How they would stress your mistakes tenfold. How they would diminish your achievements with the same intensity. You weren’t afraid, really.

“I’ve lived with my greatest hater more than half of my life, I can handle strangers” you had laughed to the couple.

Still, Kimi taught you everything about his Iceman persona, and told you to pick whatever you wanted from it. Minttu also convinced you to start therapy, which you accepted.

The hate started as soon as you were announced. Beyond the regular misogyny, they were calling you too old to be a rookie at 24, they were questioning your abilities even with numerous championships from other categories to back you up, even with the fact that your mentor was Kimi fucking Raikkonen. But you didn’t let any of that get under your skin.

Sebastian Vettel was quickly drawn to you, and he became your first friend in Formula 1. He had been close with Kimi from the time they were teammates, and he kinda adopted you.

The guys your age didn’t want to get too close to you. The very few times they talked or walked with you, it sparked romance rumors, and soon they pretty much ignored or avoided you. You knew their intentions weren't to be mean, they were probably just avoiding problems with the media and their girlfriends or wives, but it didn’t hurt any less every time they walked straight past you.

One of those times you were going to the group press conference and all three of the guys walked past you as you tried to chat with them. Your shoulders slumped, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What was that?” You jumped at the sound of another voice. You looked behind you to see Fernando Alonso walking up to you. Up until that point, he had been polite to you.

“Oh,” you stumbled over your words, “being seen talking to me is bad press, apparently.”

“Una tontería,” he muttered, shaking his head, which made you laugh, surprised. He put a friendly hand over your shoulder and led you to the media session.

Simples as that, Fernando too became your friend.

You asked your PR manager, Amanda, to bend a few rules to make sure you would always be at the press conference with Seb and Nando or at least one of them. Most of the time, you did. But sometimes you were unlucky and had to sit stiffly through rounds of absurdly odd (and downright misogynistic) questions by yourself.

Soon you gave up on befriending the other drivers and being charming to the media. You realized the Iceman persona of Kimi looked like a good way to protect yourself from the clutches of the motorsport world. By the sixth race of the year, you gained the Lioness nickname. An agile hunter in your driving style and just as fierce in your answers.

“You’re always seen more comfortable with either Sebastian or Fernando, who are way older than you” some reporter said, “why is that?”

“I believe we’re closer in maturity age,” you said, face expressionless. You heard snickers around the room and you looked to Fernando who was visibly holding a laugh.

“So you’re saying the other drivers are immature?” The reporter pressed, but you didn’t want to talk anymore.

“No,” it’s all you answered, putting your mic down.

Everyone already thought you were arrogant, selfish, and superficial, and as you embraced your cold persona, you just fed into their assumptions. You couldn't care less, it was a good way to protect yourself, to be distant from the media who were constantly trying to drag you to the dirt.

“You mentioned the other day that you believe you should’ve joined F1 around the time the guys your age did. Why do you think that didn’t happen?”

“Because of what’s between my legs, Brian” you deadpanned.

You had to prove yourself two or three times more than the boys every single step of the way, to get into F4, F3, F2 and now F1. You made it, you were there, between the 20 best of motorsport in the whole world… and still… Still you had to hear questions about how you managed to race with a period, questions about boyfriends, questions about hair care or skin care, or whatever. You wouldn’t mind any of that if those were common questions, if they were asked of every driver, but they were only asked of you.

“I would like to express that, from now on, I will only answer questions that would be asked of the male drivers too, about the sport, about the cars, about strategies and everything that revolves around racing,” you warned one day before the end of a media conference when someone asked if your PMS interfered in your racing.

You started to not give two fucks about the media. Every time someone asked you a misogynistic question you just stared at them and put your mic down. So those types of question died down a little bit.

“Do you think you would’ve already been world champion had you entered Formula 1 earlier, let’s say at age 19/20?”

“Yes.”

Most of the guys ignored or avoided you, but your path always clashed with Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. They always hinted at not liking you in the slightest, and the media and the fans started catching up to it, throughout your rookie year. They would shamelessly shade you, and you never backed down, giving it as hard as you got.

You walked to a reporter, still using a towel to dry your face at the post race interview.

“Did you hear what Leclerc said about your move as you left the pits?” The man asked you.

“No, I didn’t. Do I look like I care about a man’s opinion?” You said, loud and clear.

You got as many fans as you got haters, especially as you messed with Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s loud fanbases. It wasn’t really on purpose, but one of them would usually jab at you in interviews, and when word got back to you, it would anger you to no end, and you would shade them back, and in an insane amount of back-and-forths until your rivalry was in articles, the news, twitter threads, and in the mind of every single reporter in a race week.

“Verstappen talked about your overtake at lap 49, he said it was a dirty move.”

“Like he did to me back in Silverstone?” Your eyes held a mischievous glint as you scoffed, “Funny, you didn’t see me whining about it back then.”

You had the best rookie year ever since Lewis Hamilton debuted. You almost reached the same overall numbers as him, getting six podiums and your first ever Formula 1 victory. You finished the driver’s championship in fifth place, over older drivers that were literal champions of the world.

The first time Lewis Hamilton really engaged in conversation with you was during the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony by the end of the season. You were proudly smiling, holding your Rookie of the Year trophy. He had been polite to you before, but he always looked unattainable, in a way. He was beyond the world of Formula 1.

“Congratulations!” He smiled at you, sitting by your side. Your heart thrumming in your chest, trying not to fangirl too much. Sometimes it was unbelievable sharing casual conversation with legends you grew up admiring from afar.

“Thank you, Lewis. Congratulations on the championship!” You said.

“I’m sorry for not realizing most of the boys were excluding you. I chatted about it with Seb, and he told me your only friends are him and Fernando.” Lewis whispered, looking genuine, “I guess I was so focused on the championship that I didn’t bother to check on you. I’m sorry, really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you raised your trophy, “I made it, right?”

“Succeeding despite the adversities… I see traits of a champion in you, congratulations” Lewis got up, raising his flute in a toast for you, “see you around, Lioness!”

Soon the next season you realized you had a competitive car. More than the year before. As for the first few races of the season, you had a win and podiums, which put you as a contender for the driver’s championship. Unfortunately the other people competing closely with you were none other than Charles and Max. Your rivalry had died down a bit when they noticed that you only shaded them when they provoked you first. So as their jabs became few and far between, it meant your clap backs did too.

The season was as good as it could get, that is until Monza.

You had felt the problems braking specifically during qualifying and your team tried to fix it but there wasn’t much anyone could do due to parc fermé. So you spent part of the night before the race working with your strategist to find a way around your braking problems and the best way to preserve your tyres.

The data had shown it would take a bit more strength to brake, which would eat up at your tyres quicker than usual, but other than that, everything seemed normal.

You all were wrong.

As the race went on, your brakes got progressively worse, to the point that curves were taking your body strength so much you could feel your muscles sore.

“We are considering retiring the car,” Jace, your engineer said. You inhaled, trying to calm down.

You were barely holding your P5, when you saw a Red Bull approaching you. You weren’t in position to fight, so he overtook you turning in a chicane. But your brakes didn’t work as you tried to slow down behind Max’s car, you tried not going into him but your tyres locked as you tried to avoid his rear. You drove straight into his rear, making the two of you lose control of your car. You braced for impact against the wall but luckily the gravel slowed you enough that you just touched the barrier.

After checking with your engineer, you left the car and saw Max leaving his, both DNFs.

You knew of your fame of being a reckless driver, often known for risky maneuvers and overtakes, but you never dove into someone intentionally because you knew trying to take someone out would mean yourself getting taken out too. As a marshal took you back to the garage on a motorcycle, you were ready to swallow your pride and apologize to Max for accidentally taking him out.

But as soon as you stepped down from the motorcycle, Max was in your space. His face was red and his hair all sweaty and disheveled, when he fronted you, chest to chest. You knew there were dozens of cameras pointed to you, so you tried to diffuse the tension for once.

“Are you insane?! Why did you drive into me?!” He kept advancing and for each of his steps ahead, you took one back to try and explain. But he didn’t give you a second screaming all kinds of curses and blame, “you should’ve never made it to Formula 1!”

His words were like a slap to the face, and you stopped trying to apologize or explain. You put both hands to your back, inflating your chest to face him.

“You don’t get to fucking decide that! You dipshit! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You said to his face, that’s when someone from the RedBull garage ran closer and stood between you.

You watched as he was taken away from you and inside his garage. At the same time your PT found you and walked you back to McLaren.

Changing from your race suit, you tried to cool down before going to the media. You gulped down your water as you watched Charles leading the race, and getting closer to the championship than you.

“There was an altercation between you and Max Verstappen, can you comment on that?”

“He was visibly upset with the racing incident.” It was all you said, after chatting with your PR manager before stepping out to chat with the journalists.

“And what happened at that incident? Can you walk us through it?”

“Yes, uh, we’ve been feeling something wrong with our braking system since yesterday. The data showed us it would require me to be more forceful during braking, which seemed feasible. But the brakes were wearing off during the race and we were about to retire when I completely lost the brakes. I really tried to avoid him but my tyres locked and I ended up hitting Verstappen.”

“Are you sure this accident has nothing to do with the ongoing rivalry between the two of you?” You got offended by the reporter's words.

“Of course! I would never intentionally do something to put myself or other drivers at risk. I have all the data to back me up and anyone can check my onboard.”

The FIA investigated your altercation with Max, and you ended up getting an unsportsmanlike behavior penalty. Two points in your super license.

“What the fuck?! Why the fuck would I be punished for that! There are fourteen different angles from that argument and all of them show how Verstappen aggressively came on to me first!”

It got worse when you heard that only you had gotten a penalty and Max didn’t even get a reprimand.

Everyone close to you noticed how you were on edge next week. During media day your answers were short, dry, and every single journalist seemed to want to talk about the penalty.

“Yes, I do have opinions on my penalty. But no, I won’t talk about it, only the FIA’s opinion is relevant” Your words during the press conference were enough to express a little dissatisfaction and to put an end to those questions. Everyone was surprised at the fact you chose to be quiet about the whole ordeal, they were all expecting your complaints and harsh words.

When you went back to your driver’s room, you went straight to lay your head on your mom’s lap, feeling a bit down. You stayed quiet as she ran her hands through your hair softly untangling it. She knew you were upset and why, so none of you bother to voice anything, bashing in the comforting silence.

The best thing about Formula 1 was being able to retire your mom from working, now you didn’t have to worry about her burning out and she didn’t have to worry about bills or mortgage or debts. Now she had a new, bigger and better house, everything was paid for and you even gave her a credit card for hobbies or whatever she wanted. She sometimes went to the races, but she usually stayed at home, relaxing.

“I know things are hard right now,” you mom started, her voice soft, caring, “but I know you can do it, honey. You’ve faced pushback since the beginning of this dream, but you always came out on top.”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“You will be a world champion, honey. I know it.” She smiled down at you.

You sat up as your mom removed her watch, handing it to you.

“I wanted to give it to you on your birthday, but I feel like this is the right moment,” she turned the watch, showing you the inscription that read strong woman, and you felt your eyes water, “this was my grandma’s. She gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, and now it’s yours.”

That week you got a victory, raising your P1 trophy for your mom, who was watching you with a hand on her heart, crying happy tears.

As the season progressed the championship became even tighter between the three of you. Mere points set the three of you apart, and with each week result, the P1, P2 and P3 shifted between you. It had become one of the most competitive seasons in the sport.

When the third to last race came in Qatar, you were P3 in the championship, and you needed at least P4 in that race to keep fighting for the championship. You didn’t care about anything other than getting a podium, focused on your racing mindset, no distractions. If you only got that win, it would mean getting back that P1 in the championship and you would go down in history.

You were P3 after your last pitstop of the race, you had a small window of time to take advantage of being with new mediums while everyone else was with old softs. You had to pull ahead and open at least ten seconds, so you could become first when Max went to the pits. You had the perfect opportunity for an undercut.

That was until you overtook Charles’ Ferrari for P2. You passed him easily, he hadn’t gone to the pits yet, so he had old tyres. But you frowned as Jace warned you about Leclerc trying to take the position back. He couldn’t fight against your new tyres, everyone knew that. You accelerated to open a distance, but as you went fast into turn 4, you only felt the hit to your side, making you lose control of the car.

It was barely a few seconds that you couldn’t wrap your head around, so shocked you couldn’t brake, only feeling your stomach churn as you braced for impact. The second hit came against the barriers even harder than the first, it shook your whole body, leaving you dizzy and out of breath.

You talked with Jace, telling him in a shaky voice that you were okay but out of breath, and you unlocked your seatbelts with trembling hands. After removing your steering wheel, you tried to get up but you were dizzy and your legs felt like jelly. A marshal helped you out of the car, but as soon as your feet were on the ground, you stumbled to your knees. The nausea got the best of you and you puked against your balaclava and inside the helmet. The marshals made a small shield around you, as one of them helped you remove the helmet and balaclava, still dry heaving. The marshal gave you a towel, and you cleaned the best you could as the ambulance was coming.

You looked behind you to your destroyed car.

And just like that, you had lost any chance at the championship.

You held your tears as you went through the medical procedures and examinations. The world had been muted in the background and you could only hear the noise of the crash, visualizing your ruined car, and your dreams being crushed once again.

But as you came back to the hospitality, you found your mom, and sobbed quietly against her chest.

“It’s ok, honey. It’s okay,” her voice was so soothing and the pain meds were working, so you cried yourself to sleep while she held you.

Later that day, you watched the replay of your crash. Leclerc had gone way too close to you, but in turn 4 he hit the curbs and lost control, hitting your car right in the middle, full force. Your car had spun out a lot then hit the barriers. It was lucky that you had come out of the crash relatively unharmed, it was ugly and could’ve been a lot worse, from the way you spun and the G force your car hit the barrier with.

“You’re still watching that?” Your mom’s voice sounded in the middle of the night.

“He shouldn’t have tried to fight for the position back, he didn’t even have enough tyres for that! And he was way too close, look!”

Your mom closed your laptop, putting it on the coffee table. She took your hands in hers and smiled gently.

“I’m sorry about the championship. But I’m glad you’re okay, that was one of the scariest couple of seconds of my entire life,” she whispered, teary eyed.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, ashamed that it didn’t cross your mind how worried she might have been.

“It’s okay, honey. There’s always next year, I’m sure you will be world champion. And will be there cheering for you.”

The next week in Jeddah, you felt like the world was out to get you when they put you in the press conference with both Max and Charles, as well as Lewis and Sebastian.

“Y/N, how are you feeling after last week’s crash? It looked pretty bad.” Someone asked.

“I am doing ok, thank you,” that’s all you said into the mic.

“Unfortunately, the crash ultimately took you out of the championship, what do you say about that?”

You were so tired of that question, so tired of your PR manager talking in your head about not blaming Charles publicly, despiste your desire to scream to whoever may hear that the monegasque just wanted to take you out of the competition, so he could fight only Verstappen for the championship. You just wanted the season to be over, in all honesty.

“There’s always next year, right?” You echoed your mom's words, that were also your rehearsed answer. You looked to the side, feeling Sebastian’s hand softly on your forearm, a silent show of support.

You left as soon as it was over. You knew Charles had been trying to talk to you. You supposed it was to apologize, but you weren’t having it. You were still so angry at him that you worried you’d punch him as soon as he was in your face. So you just avoided him like the plague. You didn’t want to see him, and you couldn’t afford another punishment if you acted on your anger.

“Charles has been looking for you,” Sebastian said, walking up to you as you were finishing braiding your hair for the race.

“I have been avoiding him,” you said, not looking at Seb, still focusing on your braids.

“He just wants to apologize.”

“And I want to punch him in the face, so what? We can’t always get what we want” You clenched your jaw, using an elastic band to finish.

“Y/N…” Sebastian sounded tired.

“Don’t Y/N me. I just want this season to be over, ok? The championship was in my reach, and now it’s not. And it wasn’t even my own fault. So no, I won’t see him.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything as he walked to you and pulled you in an affectionate hug that made you want to cry again.

During the driver’s parade, Fernando acted almost as a guard dog, not letting anyone close to you. You talked with him and Lewis about the crash, explaining how it felt to you.

When the season ended, you got a third place trophy during the Prize Giving Ceremony. You remembered your dad’s words throughout the entire night. Coming down from the stage, and you met with Minttu and Kimi, they congratulated you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of failure. You looked at Charles on the stage with his P2 trophy.

“Anything other than the first is failure, right?” You sighed, eyes glued to the stage, where Max got the trophy of Champion of the World.

“What crap is that?” Kimi said, suddenly.

“My dad used to say that when I was a kid.”

“Well he was an asshole,” Kimi said matter-of-factly, “and he never made it to F1. He didn’t even make it to F4, he has no reason or power to get in your head. You were just a kid. You understand?”

“Yes, Kimi," you swallowed, feeling some kind of wheight being lifted from your shoulders. Kimi had done many great things for your life with very few words, and his succint way of being was great to pull you back to the present whenever you anxiety got the best of you.

You ended up getting the Personality of the Year award too, which was such a surprise that it worked wonders to lift your spirits and to end the season with a sweet note.

Even being in a better mood, you didn’t stay at the party too late, saying your farewell to your friends as you dropped Kimi and his wife at the hotel. You were removing your makeup after a shower when there was a knock on your hotel room door. Thinking it was an emergency, you rushed only to be faced with Charles Leclerc.

“What are you doing here?” You looked around the hall, confused.

“Can I talk to you?” Charles was still dressed in his formal attire, black tie. He fiddled with his fingers as you let him in, afraid someone might see him at your door.

“What?” You crossed your arms as you closed the door.

“I’m really sorry about the crash in Qatar,” he waited for your answer with bated breath.

“Can we have this conversation when next season starts?” You proposed. You knew you weren’t ready for that talk yet, too much anger was still clouding your judgment for a level-headed talk.

“It wasn’t my intention to take you out-” He started but you cut him off.

“Look, you’ve never liked me, I’m aware, and you cost me an entire championship, so I don’t know if I believe you.”

“It really wasn’t intentional, the accident cost me the championship as well,” you could see in his eyes that his patience was wearing thin. But so did yours.

“No it didn’t. You still had a chance even after that DNF, you just didn’t win anyway,” your anger simmered again, making you raise your voice.

“Fuck you! You treat me like this because you always felt like you were better than everyone-”

“I treat you like this?! Be fucking for real, Charles! You hate me so much you took my chance at the championship away!”

“If you had more wins during the season maybe this wouldn’t be a problem right now!”

“Unbelievable! Because you are so much better than me, all you got was second place!”

“Shut up.”

“You’ve always hated me for absolutely no reason-”

“Shut up.”

“And now you think you can barge into my room and tell me you think I’m a shitty driver? I’m not standing for-”

“Shut up!” He shouted, which was so surprising you actually stopped talking.

The both of you were breathing heavily, in one second you were sure you could strangle him, in the next, his lips were against yours and his hand gripping your hair. The kiss was nasty, all teeth and lips and tongue, his hands going down your body, pressing you into him, and your fingers tugging at his suit, ripping the buttons. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Charles’ lips found your neck and he bit into your pulse point.

“Fuck you, Charles” you said, breathless, opening his trousers and he ripped your little sleep top with his bare hands.

It was so hot as you stumbled backwards and he followed you, tossing your top behind him, you took off his shirt and undershirt and he helped you kick out your shorts.

Charles pressed you against the wall, kissing you aggressively again, and you moaned as he placed his thigh between your legs, and you ground against him, turned on, dampening his trousers with the wet of your panties. You pressed your hand against his bulge, and he groaned, pressing into you even harder, humping like horny teenagers.

You didn’t even bother to get him naked, with his trousers half undone, you just pulled his cock out, heavy in your hands. You watched his pained expression as you spit on your hand so you could masturbate him.

“Fuck it,” you moaned, knowing grinding on him was not nearly enough.

You pulled your panties to the side, and lined his cock up into you. It was so tight as he slid into you, that your eyes rolled in pleasure, and he raised one of your legs against his waist to make room for his hips. He pulled back and snapped his hips into you again, his cock stretching you so good you were shaking. You put one arm around his shoulders holding on him and the other hand you held his ass under his loose trousers, your nails biting into his flesh as you pushed him even deeper.

“Fuck, ah-” he moaned in your ear, “so hot- putain-”

The loud, wet sounds of his hips pistoning into you were obscene. You angrily bit him, his shoulders, his chest, his jaw and he went even harder, your back hitting the wall behind you, and you pulled his hair, sweat starting to form all over your body.

“Fuck, Charles!” Your moans got even louder, and Charles stuck two fingers into your mouth, muffling your sounds as he fucked you.

He was hitting the perfect spot inside you, and it was enough for you to know you would come that way. You slapped his cheek, taking out some of your anger and he groaned, going harder. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and held your neck, pressing your torso against the wall and choking you a little bit.

“I can’t hold much longer” he warned you between gritted teeth, relentlessly fucking you.

You pinched your own nipples and it didn’t take long for you to come, your cunt clenching so hard around him, it was enough to send him over the edge too.

Shaking, the two of you slid to the floor, breathlessly lying down, half naked and sweaty.

None of you said a word.

When he was ready to go again, he put you on your knees, your torso against the mattress, and he pounded into your cunt mercilessly from behind.

The third and last time was lazy, slow missionary and he held your wrists above your head with one hand, pressed your clit with the other, sucked a few hickeys around your tits and his cock pressed over and over your g-spot.

When you woke up the next morning, Charles was still asleep by your side. You went into the bathroom and showered, hoping he would catch the hint and leave. But as you came out showered and dressed, he was still out cold. So you quietly packed your bag and left for the airport.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #lestappen #Spotify

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azulpitlane · 4 months

Text

just pr I ln4

pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader summary: after being caught hooking up with lando, you both decide it would be good for your images to fake date. too bad you hate each other. notes: been loving enemies to lovers rn🫣 masterlist

f1gossip

230,421 likes

f1gossip New WAG alert? After a night of partying, Lando Norris was pictured kissing Y/n Ricciardo outside the club! Onlookers claim they then went home together after this👀 He was seen having a private dinner with another girl just a few days ago and rumored to have brought a different girl on his ski trip a few weeks ago.

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user lando is on a streak LOL

user this is so random?!? i was not expecting this duo but im here for it HAHA

user no cause she rarely attends races but when she does shes never seen with lando?😭

user omg he better not play my girl, I love y/n

user WHAT DOES DANIEL THINK OF THIS OMG

user I wanna read the family gc so bad...

user wait they would be so cute

user is he finally settling down omg

user I hope so, I lowkey see them together

user im here for it!! shes so much better than these other girls hes been seen with

notification center

danny what. were. you. thinking. you're in so much trouble missy call me ASAP!!!

y/bff/n LANDO NORRIS?!?!? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM BEING A PIECE OF SHIT??? girl we need to debrief last night

lando norris we need to talk

Fucking fantastic.

Based on your notifications, you put two and two together and realized you were paparazzi'd with none other than the man you hated the most. You and Lando had a very complicated relationship to say the least. You had met when your brother, Daniel, joined McLaren and from the start he had given you the cold shoulder. You didn't know what you did wrong and tried to be kind to him, but after a while you stopped when he dismissed you like a child. You thought you would get along with him after Danny had told you about his interest in photography. You yourself were a photographer and decided to take the year traveling with your brother to capture some photos in F1, but you had figured the fame was getting to Lando especially after his breakup with his girlfriend. He was starting to bring different girls to the garage in every race and you would never see them again after.

You remember your last interaction with him in the McLaren garage in the final race of the '22 season was when the complicated part of your relationship began.

"What are you doing here, y/n? This is a place for serious professionals, not hobbyists."

"Lando, always the charmer. I'm here to photograph greatness."

"Greatness? You wouldn't know greatness if it lapped you on the track."

"Well, I'm pretty sure greatness doesn't come with an ego the size of your car."

"Watch your tone, y/n. This is a dangerous place, not a playground for kids."

"I can handle myself, Lando. Unlike some people, I don't need a helmet to protect my head."

Both your eyes were filled with hatred as they interlocked, each refusing to back down. As the race begins, y/n continues to snap photos, capturing Lando's intense focus and determination.

After the race, both Lando and Daniel were disappointed they were not able to get into the podium on their last race of the season. Your brother asked for some time alone so you approached Lando, camera in hand, knowing it would be the last time you were in the same garage as him.

"Tough race, Lando. I got some incredible shots, though."

"Don't patronize me, y/n."

"You know for what it's worth, I saw a different side of you on the track this season. It's like you're fighting not just against other drivers, but against something within yourself.

"What are you talking about?"

"I may be the younger sister of your teammate, but I'm not blind. There's more to you than the arrogant facade you put on."

After that conversation, you began seeing Lando less and less considering your brother was now racing in AlphaTauri and you were hardly at the paddock anymore. The few times you did see Lando, the tension had shifted into something different. But it was now winter break and you and Lando were both back in Monaco.

You had gone out last night and you did not believe your luck when you saw Lando in the same club with a smirk on his face. Determined to show you could rise above the tension, you decided to lose herself in the pulsating rhythm of the music. As you moved to the beat, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Lando.

"Surprised to see me, princess?" He looked at you with a mocking smile knowing the nickname would rile you up.

"Surprised to see you alone at a club and not wrapped up with some girl? Yes, actually."

"Didn't take you for the jealous type, I like it."

Against your better judgment, you found herself drawn into banter with him. The tension between you turned into a strange kind of chemistry as you exchanged barbs, each remark escalating in intensity. A few drinks were exchanged and you slowly began to lose your guard around him and eventually ending up on his bed that night.

You groaned at the memory of last night's mistake and decided it was best to text Lando back before anyone else to get your story straight. He quickly replied saying he was on his way and you began to straighten yourself up.

"You know usually when I hook up with a girl I don't see her the next morning. Consider yourself lucky y/n."

"Still arrogant as ever, even when we're both fucked right now."

"Well you're a little more fucked than I am really."

"Just get in here Lando." You opened the door to let him in and quickly shut it afraid you would be pictured together again.

"I've got good news for you sweetheart. My team has made a plan to sort this mess out."

"Go on with it. What is it?"

"Jeez feisty in the mornings, heh? But congratulations, you are officially my girlfriend, we've been dating for a few weeks now and have kept it under wraps to figure out our feelings for each other privately."

"A fake relationship? That's your solution? No fucking way."

Lando sighed and rolled his head back in annoyance. He knew you were immediately going to shut this idea down but he had planned what he was going to say beforehand and knew what to say to convince you.

"You think I want to do this? My team needs me to do this, I haven't exactly looked like a saint these past few weeks and hooking up with my friend's sister behind his back isn't going to make me look any better."

"And what's that got to do with me?"

"Well in case you haven't noticed, this doesn't look good on your part either princess. There's some hateful people on the internet already slut shaming you and saying you betrayed your brother. If we tell people we were already dating prior to these pictures, it lessens the hate. Not only that, are you really going to tell Danny you had a meaningless one night stand with one of his friends?"

You knew he had a point. Danny wasn't going to be happy if he found out about the brewing tension between you and Lando.

"Please y/n, the internet already likes us together. This would be good for us."

"Lando Norris saying please? Wow, never thought I'd see the day." You genuinely were shocked at his desperateness for you to agree, you didn't think about how this affected him as much it did you.

"Yeah, yeah. It's only for a few months then we could go back to pretending we dont exist to each other."

"Okay fine, just for a few months. And I'm doing this for Danny, not for you." You quickly agreed not really thinking it would be that big of a deal. Just a few posts and appearances together and this would be over before you knew it.

"I knew you'd give in." Lando gave you one of his infamous smirks and planted a kiss in the corner of your mouth. "Now come on we need some pictures to make this convincing."

And so it begins.

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3,294,240 others

landonorris secrets out

tagged yourusername

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user OMFG

user im actually so happy theyre so cute😭❤️

user WHAT WAS DANNYS REACTION

yourusername 🧡

danielricciardo on the next flight to monaco btw. maxverstappen1 yourusername ooouuu you're in troubleeee user LMFAO MAX user WAIT DID DANIEL NOT KNOW???

danielricciardo 🫠🫠

user AHAHAH he doesn't seem too happy user 💀

user am I tripping or is he holding y/ns camera🥹

user it looks like the one she always has on her I LOVE THEM ALREADY

user my new roman empire I won't shut up about them from now on

user wasn't lando just with other girls?

user he can have female friends!! its not impossible

part two??

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #f1 x reader #ln4 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #f1 fic #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris imagines #lando x reader #lando fluff

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shallyouobeyme · 6 months

Text

From the Outside

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)

Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

Requested by @sol565

TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.

Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you.

It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through.

You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights.

Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.

Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions.

The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other.

Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother.

She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have.

Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close.

You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both.

Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life.

Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life.

It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely.

You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group.

So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count.

Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough.

And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality.

You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves.

Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again.

These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second.

The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).

Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder.

“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.

“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events.

“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched.

“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.

“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”

“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be.

Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left.

“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.

“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?

“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”

A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.

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stararch4ngelqueen · 6 months

Text

Innocent Possession

—

Time Written - 11:52 p.m.

Arkham Knight/fem!reader smut

Tags: Smut, possessive, breeding/innocence kink. Jason might be a meanie. (Not Proofread. Have to work on a Saturday AND I BROKE MY NAIL 🫠)

This man is such a slut it’s not even funny anymore. LOOK AT THAT.👇 THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT 👆

—

His lush, heavy breathing fans along your exposed, maroon muddled neck. Sharp teeth dimpling your skin in harsh punctures, not enough to draw blood quite yet.

Hands that once cradled your neck like porcelain art in the distance of the past, now grasped your throat like a damn vice, pairing with his grip on your shoulder to force you back against him with each deep, aching thrust.

One of the major accomplishments of his new identity, his new life, was to find the innocence of his past. The highlight of his life for many years was brought to him, bound and gagged as Gotham was in the midst of evacuation. Your clothes were torn and rustled from aggressive attempts to subdue you, enough to leave bruises along your supple, upper arms as you thrashed and screamed.

Now those bastards of men lay dead outside the hall. Scattered corpses slumped along the floors, dreadfully bland decor that meant nothing to the Knight that holstered his gun after his short pursuit.

Your first greeting from the armored man was terrifyingly quiet, towering over you like a beast after approaching where you cowered.

His hands grasp hold of his helmet before you could beg for your life, only trying to make it towards the Evac buses before you were hauled off by those bastards. All words died on your tongue when steel cut blue eyes meet yours, brows faintly furrowed, his jaw taunt with incredibly strong tension.

You’re his ex, but not by choice. None of this was by choice. He vanished for a year, only to be presumed dead the next.

You never hated him enough to put that label on him. Any attempt to begin your list of a million questions abruptly halts before it even began, as his lips instantly assault yours.

“That’s a good girl. My fucked out little whore.” He grunts, squeezing your hips closer to his pelvis, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight walls.

The ropes that kept you bound now uselessly dangled from your wrists like cheap bracelets, the skin of your knuckles lightening as you helplessly plant them along the wall. Skin grew sticky with milky cum in between both your bodies, loud and wet, seeping down in between your bare thighs.

Watching and feeling your juices dampen the front of his red tactical pants was a punishment in itself, one he was feeling kind enough to save for later.

Maybe fucking your mouth would make for good punishment, listening to you choke as he grinds against your face, a pool of your combined mess seeping along your dirty knees on the ground.

“You better hope I never learn if any other guy fucked what’s mine, Princess,” He huffs against your kiss bruised lips, barely taking breaks to let you breathe. “Woulda’ rather had you cryin’ on fuckin’ toys than another man.”

Your whimper sounded like a cry, making Jason believe he could do so here right now, in this dingy room, underneath a dusty headlight. He hovers more over your back, tilting your head just enough to crash his lips against yours.

Feverishly responding to such a heavy, messy kiss, you moan fully against his rough, scar lined lips, amplifying when his tongue promptly invades. He licks with feverish hunger as a hand slips under your waist, huffing at your jolt at the sudden, angry assault on your nub, forcing your walls to deliciously clench towards a third orgasm.

The sounds he could pull from his sweet girl never ceases to amaze him. Even before his death, you were nothing but kind, the epitome of polite and heartwarming sweetness. What the hell were you thinking, choosing to date a guy like him?

Doesn’t matter if he died. No man is ever gonna take what’s been his for a very, very long time.

You won’t have to tell him now, but he’ll know. He has the capability to learn all your deepest secrets, knowing he could drag them out of you so easily.

“You miss me, pretty girl?” His hot rasp rumbles richly along the shell of your ear, sparking an uproar of your over sensitive nerves.

“You miss cryin’ on my dick, Princess? Missed how good it made you feel, how perfect you’d behave just to get bred? Tell me,” he grunts after relinquishing from the kiss. “Tell me you did. Say it loud, tell me you missed me.”

“I did-“ You spew out from quivering lips, ripples of tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I did, Jay. M-Missed you so much—“

Your voice draws out an empty whine towards your last word, hearing the collision of hot skin get louder as he gets harsher, brutal, eagerly desperate to make up for all the time he’s lost.

His sweet, innocent girl resorted to a jittery, babbling fleshlight. You could say anything he wanted, his guarded ego crumbling from the truth laced in your words.

You missed him, grieved for him, loved him. Yet, all he saw you as right now is his babbling whore, his whining little baby who never got used to the size of him driving deep into your cunt.

Honestly, he hopes you never will.

Your front further gets pressed flat against the wall, hot skin shivering from the harshness of the cold surface. Thick, precisely detailed armor digs deep into your back when he leans over you, keeping his persistent grip along your jaw, keeping you suspended just enough to breathe when he fucks you.

“S’been hell without ya, sweetheart,” He lowers his tone, whispering with a kiss of taunt as he rocks himself against your plush ass, keeping you cock drunk per his amusement.

“My baby wanna prove how much she missed me?” He cooes along your ear, smirking sadistically to your complete unawareness. “My baby wanna have a baby? She wanna have her pussy filled to prove she always loved me?”

You whine out ‘yes’ over and over, your back arching heavily from his relentless pace. The more space you involuntarily create, the closer Jason leans into you, the harder the plating digs into your back. The harsher the head of his cock endlessly strikes your cervix, making you just about lose it.

A series of curses spewed from your lips, resulting in three thick fingers shoved into your mouth, tasting yourself prior when he assaulted your soaked core.

“Language, babygirl,” Jason sneers against your cheek, despising the foul words that left those pretty lips. “Don’t badmouth me like a cheap whore. You’re my good girl. Fucking act like it.”

His other hand promptly pressed against your abdomen, forcing your lower half closer towards his waist. With his overwhelming free reign on your body, Jason bullies your sore, abused pussy with a series of sharp slaps, your clit stinging from repeated impacts.

You jolt out, sobbing out a series of apologies laced in short begs in the midst of various squeals.

In another life, he was your gentle giant. Now, he was a monster lusting after much more than blood. Jason was a simple man; wanting nothing more than the death of his mentor, and his ex’s warm cunt until he’s fully satisfied.

You whine out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a moan. He clicks his tongue, tilting your head back just a little more while halting his hand, catching sight of those teary, bubbly eyes and quivering lip.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You hiccup, your nails scraping along the wall from overstimulation.

“I’m sorry Ja-Jason, please—“

You stumble over words. A pure miracle over how flustered you were to say your desire after being his sex doll.

“Please what?” He demands, losing what patience he never had.

“A baby,” you whine out, purposely leaning into his palm, fluttering your teary lashes. “Give me your baby, Jason. I want it. Please.”

His brows raise in surprise, slowly rocking his hips whilst holding back a grunt. Yes, he said it, desiring it, but hearing you beg for this. To ruin your beautiful body with his tainted seed.

“M’Not gonna stop, y’know. Even when it takes.” His voice dribbled with lustful possession while his hips stutter back into an uproar, nibbling along your lobe with sharp teeth. “That what you want? You ready for that?”

You moan out an easy agreement with more eagerness than before, allowing your body to relax against his chest.

“Y’hear me, Princess?” Jason braced a hand along the wall, clutching hold of your hand in his grasp, keeping your fingers safe in his fist. “I’m gonna make you a mama by the end of tonight.”

The Bats can wait, for now. Once he’s dead, once he’s been dealt with, then he’ll have much more opportunity to celebrate.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd smut #dc jason todd #arkham knight #I went from fluff to this #idk 🧍🏽‍♀️#it’s so short but I’m also hella tired from this week

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astonmartinii · 7 months

Text

the age of no regret [mamma mia part four] | formula one scoial media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, jenson button & fernando alonso part one | part two | part three masterlist | tips

a due date nears, a god father is revealed and new cravings are discovered

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,209,851 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: f1 drivers are too generous, i don't know how we got all of the stuff back from montreal let alone how we're going to store it.

view all comments

user1: i'm NOT jealous of an unborn child's helmet collection

user2: this bro got a senna helmet, can i have it until they know who he is?

sebastianvettel: i'm seeing a 'we' in this caption when it was me, myself and i putting together this display case

yourusername: erm i was supervising?

sebastianvettel: that was more aimed at jenson, love. i wouldn't want you anywhere near a glass display case right now

jensonbutton: one day it's "i'm the wood work king, let me do this" and then it's "why did no one help me?" PICK A STRUGGLE SEB

sebastianvettel: well i was waiting for you to take all the credit ... so this is awkward now

jensonbutton: well i'll take the credit for getting most of the helmets

charles_leclerc: ummmm no i gave seb at least two of these

jensonbutton: @sebastianvettel tell your grid kid to back off this is adult conversation

charles_leclerc: i'm 25?

fernandoalo_oficial: beckett better be sleeping in his dog bed because i am not fighting a dog for my space in the bed

jensonbutton: of course he is !!!!!!!!!

yourusername: the exclamation marks are really making you look guilty

jensonbutton: IT'S NOT JUST ME YOU GUYS BRING HIM TO BED AS WELL

yourusername: i have hormones i see one puppy dog look AND I CAN'T LEAVE HIM THERE

fernandoalo_oficial: if i have to fight the dog, you guys have to let me sleep in the middle

yourusername: fine. beckett sleeps at the foot of the bed anyway you just want to be in the middle of the cuddle pile

fernandoalo_oficial: sue me

user3: cuddle pile? i'm so soft

user4: beckett? who named this dog and why was it definitely jenson?

yourusername: it was but i was assured it has nothing to do with f1

user4: babes i hate to tell you but he's defo named after the corner at silverstone

yourusername: how am i so easy to trick ffs

sebastianvettel

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,093,455 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel: crochet club in full swing for zandvoort. good luck nando!!

view all comments

user5: they really are old people at heart it's so cute

maxverstappen1: can i get a good luck for my home race?

sebastianvettel: good luck?

yourusername: good luck super max! (not that you need it)

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n i knew there was a reason why you're my favourite :)

charles_leclerc: can i get a good luck too please?

sebastianvettel: you weren't this clingy even when we were teammates

yourusername: seb !! be kind, good luck charlie

landonorris: can i also get a good luck?

yourusername: good luck lando (stop being so hard on yourself)

sebastianvettel: is everyone gonna ask for a good luck?

yourusername: how many more grid kids do you have? i feel like you underestimated the number on your cv

jensonbutton: how is my jumper coming along?

sebastianvettel: we're both working on a sleeve right now!

yourusername: sorry if one is shorter than the other i can't stop going to the bathroom

fernandoalo_oficial: thank you guys, can't wait to see you when i get home x

jensonbutton: looking fast this weekend, podium defo on the cards

yourusername: be fast but be safe x

sebastianvettel: looking forward to a new celebration

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 702,340 others

tagged: sebastianvettel, jensonbutton & yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial: getting attachment issues already @f1 can we just race in switzerland from now on?

view all comments

user8: they do group facetimes while nando is away?!?!?!?!?! shoot me.

yourusername: i second this @f1

jensonbutton: i third it

sebastianvettel: i fourth it

fernandoalo_oficial: i miss you guys :(

user9: i'm so excited/nervous about the naming situation i know these men will just have stupid suggestions

yourusername: we compromised with a name book i do not trust them after beckett

jensonbutton: beckett is a cute name and you agreed!!!!!

mickschumacher: do you guys need the extra camp beds or not?

sebastianvettel: yes please! could you bring them when you get back?

charles_leclerc: we're sleeping on camp beds? does my back mean nothing to you?

fernandoalo_oficial: do we look like a hotel to you?

yourusername: there are beds but it's first come first served, so don't be late xoxo

user10: are the grid going to stay at seb's?

user11: might be for a baby shower?

user12: HOLY SHIT

maxverstappen1: am i allowed to bring the cats? is beckett trained?

yourusername: omg yes please bring jimmy and sassy

jensonbutton: yes he's trained what do you think i've been doing with my retirement?

maxverstappen1: no comment

sebastianvettel: i guess you can bagsy a room for you and the cats

maxverstappen1: HA thank you seb

fernandoalo_oficial: more and more i realise why people call you my grid kid

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,340,566 others

yourusername: who knew i'd end up with a family this big? i love you all.

view all comments

user13: i am unwell this is so fucking cute

sebastianvettel: i love our weird little family

yourusername: little? we hosted like 25 grown men ...

jensonbutton: and you loved every single second

yourusername: yeah i love you guys and all your little stray cats with attachment issues

fernanodalo_oficial: yeah but that means they also give good gifts

user14: wait? 25? who else do we think went?

user15: so mick was definitely there, i think i saw mark in the back of one pic, kimi was there along with nico rosberg (LOL) and i think rubens barrichello

user16: no way first out of paddock brocedes reunion was at the mamma mia baby shower...

jensonbutton: those people are meant to be athletes how come there were NO CUPCAKES LEFT I KNOW THAT'S NOT IN YOUR DIETS

maxverstappen1: idk i feel like you're projecting

charles_leclerc: yeah you sound mad guilty jenson

yourusername: now i can see the grid kid resemblance

sebastianvettel: i will not take any responsibility for their shenanigans

fernandoalo_oficial: i do

danielricciardo: soz i finally got that brocedes scoop over a late night cupcake

yourusername: i won't be angry if you spill to me

lewishamilton: daniel?

fernandoalo_oficial: this is why you're my favourite daniel

user17: i need them to SPILL NOW

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, yourusername and 702,334 others

tagged: kimiraikkonen

jensonbutton: it's official!! after careful consideration, we decided that kimi was the best choice for god father, but we still consider you all a weird mix of god uncles and god everything else. y/n is due any day now so we'll see you all some time soon x

view all comments

user18: LETS GOOOOOO I WAS ALWAYS TEAM KIMI THAT'S MY GOAT 🐐

maxverstappen1: rigged

yourusername: maxy if it helps seb was seriously stumped after the baby beekeeping suit

maxverstappen1: doesn't help but i guess it's healthy to take a loss every now and again

danielricciardo: i. am. shocked.

sebastianvettel: you insulted all of us in your application

danielricciardo: ummmmm yes to prove to chickie that i'm a fun, goofy guy DUH

jensonbutton: we are NOT boring farts

danielricciardo: depriving your child of a fun god father is a boring fart move

kimiraikkonen: i am fun daniel.

charles_leclerc: i may have lost god father but i won being a bear, you win some you lose some

lewishamilton: you're being much more gracious than expected

charles_leclerc: oh i screamed into my pillow when i got this notification (and max also lost)

fernandoalo_oficial: you're taking it well lewis

lewishamilton: I KNOW YOU VOTED AGAINST ME FERNANDO BUT JOKES ON YOU I SEE THE HAMILTON BEAR YOU FRAUD

yourusername: there were no votes against people... also roscoe is not a reference we can actually verify i don't think dogs can speak english (or german, spanish or italian)

lewishamilton: he can skateboard? how am i not a good dad?

fernandoalo_oficial: see this aggression is why you aren't god father

lewishamilton: i'm letting roscoe at your ankles old man

sebastianvettel: OKAY LETS STOP THERE

markwebber: who got kimi jack daniels? that's a bold (and uniformed)choice

yourusername: it's the aesthetic mark, i don't like your tone

jensonbutton: kimi will drink anything don't worry love

markwebber: all i said was it is an interesting choice

yourusername: this is why you got destroyed by a twink btw

jensonbutton: well this all escalated fast

astonmartinf1

liked by lancestroll, estebanocon and 1,094,561 others

astonmartinf1: fernando alonso will not be racing this weekend due to family matters. felipe drugovich will race in the second aston martin seat. we wish y/n, fernando, jenson and seb luck for their new addition.

view all comments

user21: EVERYONE STAY FUCKING CALM

user22: i am so so so so so so so so so chill about this

lancestroll: good luck y/n! can't wait to meet the little one

user23: god i miss the squabbles in the comment sections

user24: literally and i can imagine it's going to increase ten fold when they all have an actual kid to fight over

charles_leclerc: why does it have to be a race so far from europe :(((( i wanna meet chickie ASAP

maxverstappen1: don't make me race your ass to the hospital

charles_leclerc: we can use air max this once seb won't know

danielricciardo: 📸 GOT YOUR ASS

charles_leclerc: daniel???

danielricciardo: 'm sorrry i'm stressed

user23: okay that didn't take long

user25: i need a lobotomy asap cause why am i so excited about four complete strangers having a baby

user26: I AM SO NERVOUS ABOUT THE NAME IF THIS CHILD IS NAMED AFTER A RACE, DRIVER OR A CORNER I WILL ACTUALLY LOSE MY MIND

user27: seb will never see the light of day if that child ends up with a bond girl name

lewishamilton: good luck guys !!! can't wait to meet the full family

user28: completely normal that the whole family is not online during potential labour but I NEED UPDATES

user29: okay put your bets on guys - which one of them is passing out

user30: jenson 100%

user31: idk i think seb has been way too chill this entire pregnancy and it's all going to come out during the birth

danielricciardo: yeah seb's ass is grass

maxverstappen1: DANIEL STOP (it's gonna be jenson)

danielricciardo: i'm sorry i'm so stressed i'm literally going to bite off my fingers

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,402,455 others

f1: with y/n's due date this week, we send our love and well wishes to the alonso-vettel-button family and can't wait to meet the new addition (and soon to be champion) 🏎️

view all comments

user32: it's just dawning on me that this kid might need a jumbo birth certificate with all these last names

user33: is anyone curious if they'll ever do a paternity test to see who the biological dad is

user34: let's not ask horribly personal questions about situations that are nothing to do with us

user35: also the kid is going to have four loving parents and about 25 grown men who will fight for them so i really don't think who the biological father is is really a big deal

estebanocon: gosh i am so excited

user36: as much as i am excited i hope it won't become a whole family influencer type beat

user37: i don't think they will tbf, i think they'll post about chickie but it'll be reserved

georgerussell63: so excited for the guys! they'll all rock as parents and y/n has already put up with them so will be an amazing mother

alexalbon: good luck guys, all of our love x

user38: f1 cruel as hell for putting this race all the way qatar so that there's no way they can go back to europe between races :(

charles_leclerc: real, depriving us from meeting chickie asap

user39: do we think kimi went with them?

user40: and maybe mick? he's not with mercedes this weekend?

mickschumacher: kimi and i are with them! not allowed in the delivery room when chickie comes but we're here for moral support <3

user41: oh i am so soft

lewishamilton: i guess it makes sense kimi is the god father... good luck guys!

note: OKAY PEOPLE THAT'S PART FOUR HOLY MOLY i am hashtag stumped on a baby name and the sex IDK ANY OF IT but this was FUN! hopefully yall enjoy and hopefully i tagged everyone who asked (blame my phone if not) also thanks to @deviltsunoda for listening to me SCREAM about this the whole time i've been writing it xoxo

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch@imagandom@mypage-myfandoms@mehrmonga@asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt@multilovebot@lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn@nothingfuninthislife@rileynicol3@kodzuvk@mochimommy2002@fluffyspaceprincess@roseseraj@black-swan-blog27@nyrasslut@justdreamersdream@asfaraslifegets@why4anne@ineffableperson@leilanixx@lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog@rafaaoli@champomiel@sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro @thecubanator2 @nzygftoji @rockyhayzkid @nmw-am @slytherheign @erikasurfer @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @greigreyhiyyih

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #mamma mia au #astonmartinii #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #jenson button instagram au #jenson button imagine #jenson button x reader

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schwarz-san · 8 months

Text

A Revenant for The Red Knight

Your typical Dp x Dc Summoning AU, but with a twist.

Jason is having a bad time.

The most of the family to be honest.

Why? Cultist. In Gotham.

One that worship some kind of All Powerful Eldritch Death Outer God from Beyond and plans to summon the Thing to this plane of existence.

The worst part? Most of the bats are being use as sacrifice. Wait no, the worst part is that Jason is the main sacrifice.

They did contemplate whether to use Jason or the Demon child, but end up deciding to use Jason instead. Something about being having essence of Death and the Multiverse in his veins and you know what? He's not gonna touch that with a ten foot pole. Nope.

The demon child is lashing out like the unvaccinated feral racoon that he is, Dick is trying to escape and so does Bruce as well as trying to make sense of the Summoning circle that the cultist were using. The replacement is snoring, the asshole.

Hah. Thats what he get for drinking five mugs of expresso instead of sleeping then gatting tranq.

Also, fuck Bruce for not calling Constantine or Zattana the moment they smelled something supernatural.

God, he hates magic.

The cultist started chanting by then, speaking in a language that no one understood—huh? Well look at that. He could apparently. He could hear them chanting in that unknown language and english at the same time, its over lapping. Weird, its like it was being translated especially for him since the others didnt seems to show any recognition with the words the cultist was using.

Except maybe the demon child, but the others? Nada.

"—Ruler of the inbetween, Heed our call. Defeater of the Dark Tyrant. Master of Space, The bridge between Every Realms, The Great One, The Balance—"

Thats a fuck ton of titles.

The circle began glowing green and fucking Lazarus waters began to pour out and thats not fucking good.

Pillar of unnaturally Neon Red Fire emerge from the Circle and destroyed the ceiling and shook the entire ware house.

A tall armoured figure emerge as the pillar of fire began to settle out. It was floating above the circle, looming over everything in a terryfing manner. Temperature began to rise as the being's Unnayurally white gaze fell upon them.

It was… a knight? A knight cross over a biker??? It also had guns which is weird and is that a fucking Bat Insignia on its chest?

Pressure from all side crash over them as the beings gaze intensified before vanishing all together the moment its gaze fell on jason.

After what seems to be eternity, the being finally spoke.

"Huh. His majesty was right, I really was that stinky and fuck up before he find me."

???

The knight biker then remove his helmet to reveal his own face with a domino mask with his color pallete just inverted.

The doppelganger then pull out his gun and began shooting down the cultist all against the other bats protest. One by one the cultist vanished in to tin air as if they didn't exist all together.

He snapped his fingers and the rope that tying the burst in the same crimson flames and vanished all together.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?!"

Or cultist used kidnap batfam and use jason as a sacrifice to the ghost king to summon him.

They summon Alternate version of jason who is a halfa and work as one of Danny's Fright knight: Red Knight.

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sunkissed-zegras · 19 days

Text

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 (𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓) 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 "𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄" ─ LH⁴³

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested ! -> i kind of have a specific request 🫣 im an ohio state fan so it also kinda pains me that i love luke hughes since i hate umich 😭 my request is reader being an osu student and long term devils fan, so when she goes to a devils game in columbus her friends dare her to make a sign for luke during warm ups that says something along the lines of “can i trade you a hat for a puck?” so when luke gives her a puck, she throws him an ohio state hat w her phone number on it. and he finds it really funny and actually ends up messaging her (and then you can end it how you want. fluff, smut, wtv) thank you <33

─ word count | 2.8k

─ warnings | so so so fluffy it might kill you, luke being a cutie pie, meet-cute situation, ohio state (bleh), slight angst, luke being self-conscious and overly self-critical, hurt to comfort, the devils vs rangers game (😭😭😭), nothin' else!

─ taglist | @dancerbailey @maryleclerc @valluvsu @bowen-power @bunting58 @daisysnhl @daisysthings @hearts-4-luke @iminlovewithtz11 @jackhughesily @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvelyzoe @ru-kru

─ ev's notes | luke hughes fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! guess who's outta their writing slump??? this guyyyyy!!!! so yeah, here is a cute little sweet luke fic because my best friend has been into him and this request has been sitting in my inbox, so!! yeah, enjoy, i love you guys mwah mwah mwah

"HE'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN GONNA SEE THE SIGN," you laughed as your best friend took in the sign you'd made. She nodded in a approval, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"Who cares? It's just for fun. You know, YOLO," she replied, giving you a playful nudge. "Plus, imagine the look on his face if he does see it."

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously, adjusting the sign in your hands. It read, "Can I trade you a hat for a puck, #43?" in bold, black letters against a vibrant red background. You were loved DIY projects so this was just as fun for you as it was for your friends.

"Maybe he'll finally follow you back on Instagram," your best friend added with an amused tone as you rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks get red. She'd known of your long time crush on the youngest Hughes brother, and she was having the time of her life teasing you about it. "Who knows, maybe it'll be a start of a love story."

You laughed nervously at your friend's teasing, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks. "Oh please, it's just a bit of fun," you replied, trying to play off your crush on Luke as nothing more than innocent admiration.

But deep down, the idea of catching Luke's attention in any way made your heart flutter.

Entering the Nationwide Arena, the energy of the crowd enveloped you, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. As the players hit the ice for warm-ups, you scanned the rink eagerly, trying to catch a glimpse of Luke. With your homemade sign clutched tightly in your hand, you made your way to the glass, positioning yourself so that Luke could see you.

Then, there he was, Luke Hughes, effortlessly weaving between his teammates with grace. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he neared your section of the glass, your breath catching in your throat. You'd only seen him one other time and that was at a Michigan game - however, because it didn't end very well, you decided it was best not to go get a picture with him.

He looked more put together this time, his curls pouring out of his helmet in a way that made your heart jump. You could feel your best friend's amused gaze on the side of your face, you rolled your eyes as she let out a teasing laugh.

"Oh, shut up."

"Hold up your sign higher, Y/N." She urged, nudging you playfully. You did as she said, holding the sign as high as you could.

To your surprise, Luke's gaze flickered towards you, a smirk playing on his lips as he skated closer. He pointed at your sign, giving you a nod of approval before flipping a puck over the glass in your direction.

"Oh my fucking god," your friend mumbled as she caught the puck. You couldn't believe it. Your heart was pounding with excitement as your friend caught the puck that Luke had sent flying your way.

With trembling hands, you fumbled in your bag for the Ohio State hat you had brought along, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You're actually gonna give him the hat?" Your friend laughed as she glanced back at Luke, an amused expression on his face as he waited for you to throw him the hat.

As you lifted up the hat from your bag, Luke let out an amused chuckle as he caught sight of it, his eyes widening with surprise. With a nervous laugh, you nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

"Yeah, why not?" you replied, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You glanced in between Luke and your friend, feeling a surge of confidence as you smiled.

Quickly scribbling your phone number on a scrap of paper, you tucked it inside the hat before tossing it over the glass towards Luke. Gripping on the red hat, you tossed it over the glass towards him. He caught it with ease, giving you an impressed smirk.

You mimicked holding a phone to your ear, gesturing towards Luke with a playful smile before mouthing the words 'call me' as your best friend erupted in laughter, her face turning red. Luke couldn't help but join in on the laughter as he shook his head, skating off with the hat in his hands.

──

"I still can't believe you did that," your best friend giggled as she drove home. To no one surprise, the devils had won and you were over the moon.

You couldn't help but giggle along with her, the adrenaline from the encounter still coursing through your veins. "I can't believe it either," you admitted, your smile widening as you replayed the moment in your mind.

As you finally arrived back at your dorm, you couldn't wipe the grin from your face, the memory of Luke's amused reaction playing on a loop in your mind. You got ready for bed and snuggled into the bed but no matter how hard you tried to sleep, you just couldn't.

So, you pulled out your phone and went on TikTok, scrolling endlessly. You knew you'd regret it in the morning but sleeping didn't seem too appealing, especially after the night you'd had.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed and you glanced up to read the message. Your heart skipped a beat once you'd glanced at it. It was an unknown number, with an unfamiliar area code.

You clicked on the number and searched the area code and it was Michigan. You didn't know anyone from Michigan, so who the hell could it─

Oh.

It suddenly clicked, your eyes widening in disbelief. As you stared at the screen, a rush of excitement flooded through you. Could it be? Your mind raced with possibilities as you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the message.

unknown so you're still an ohio fan after we beat ur ass ?

you who's this?

unknown how many hats did you give away tonight? 🥲

you luke???? hughes????

unknown good so im the only one, i hope 🥰

You let out scoff, in utter disbelief. Before responding furthur, you screenshotted the conversation and sent it to your best friend. There was no fucking way that Luke Hughes had messaged you.

──

A few weeks passed and you'd been talking to Luke almost everyday. And that wasn't an exaggeration, after every conversation that died, Luke began another one. You'd even gone as far as FaceTiming him, it seemed surreal for the first couple weeks but it had since become normal.

"How was your test?" Luke spoke, his voice muffled as he chewed on his protein bar. You put your phone down on the desk as you shrugged, sighing. "Wow, that bad?"

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying through the phone as you leaned back in your chair. "Yeah, pretty much," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But hey, at least it's over now. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief."

Luke's laughter echoed through the speaker, and you couldn't help but smile at the sound. Despite the miles between you, his presence felt comforting and familiar, a constant in your otherwise chaotic life.

"Who needs Calc? I mean, it's useless." Luke added as he took another bite of his protein bar. Before you could respond, someone in Luke's background began talking. "Yeah, yeah. I'll clean it after I get off the phone."

Your lips curved into an amused smile as you heard the voice retort, watching Luke's expression became annoyed. "I'm on the phone, Jack. Give me two seconds-"

The next thing you see is Luke's screen being shaking and a few voices arguing before Jack took his phone, coming on to the screen."Y/N, tell Luke to wash his dirty ass dishes."

"Luke, listen to your big brother." You respond teasingly, causing Jack to smirk at his younger brother.

Luke rolled his eyes but you could see a hint of amusement dancing in them. "Come on, Y/N, you're supposed to be on my side," he joked, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled at the playful banter between the brothers, feeling a sense of amusement. "Sorry, Luke, but I have to agree with Jack on this one. Clean those dishes, it's disgusting."

Jack grinned, giving you a thumbs-up before disappearing off-screen. Luke let out an exaggerated sigh, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Fine, fine," he relented, rolling his eyes theatrically. "But only because you said so, Y/N."

"Good."

"See! You only listen to Y/N!" Jack shouted as Luke's face flushed, glaring at his brother off-screen before he disappeared into the home.

"Looks like I have some influence around here," you teased, flashing Luke a playful grin.

Luke shook his head, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "I swear, he's impossible sometimes," he muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice that betrayed his annoyance.

"It's okay. That's just how all siblings are," you cleaned on to the desk as you watched Luke through the screen.

There was a short silence as Luke gazed back at you through the screen, his lips curving into a smile. "Hey, so uh... we have a game later this week."

"Yeah, I know. Against the Rangers."

Luke ran his hands through his curls, his expression a little anxious before he continued. "And don't you have spring break?"

You put two and two together, a small smile playing on your lips as you nodded.

"Well, uh... I was thinking, maybe you could come to the game?" Luke's words came out in a rush, his cheeks flushing slightly as he awaited your response. "So we can finally hang out in person."

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation, the idea of finally hanging out with Luke in person sending a thrill through you. "I'd love to," you replied eagerly, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

Luke's smile widened at your enthusiastic response, relief evident in his eyes. "Great! I'll make sure you have the best seats in the house."

"Good, I wanna be watching when you beat the Ranger's asses." You joked as he smiled.

"Oh and, you have one of my jerseys. Right?"

You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes. "Yeah, of course I do,"

Luke chuckled, a hint of pride evident in his expression. "Good, because I was thinking you could wear it to the game. Show some support for your favorite player," he teased.

"Who said you were my favorite player-"

"Hey, I was the one you gave your number to." Luke teased as you rolled your eyes.

"Okay fine," you admitted with a smirk.

Luke flashed you a satisfied smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "So, you'll wear the jersey then?"

You nodded, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'll wear it. But only because you asked so nicely."

Luke's grin widened, a sense of satisfaction evident in his gaze. "Okay, great. Maybe I'll even sign it for you?"

"Oh, shut up." You rolled your eyes as Luke let out a very amused laugh. "Show-off."

──

Luke didn't have a lot of time before the game so he only waved at you during warmups, but you weren't mad about it. With a smile on your face, you waved back at Luke, sending him a silent message of support and encouragement.

You understood the importance of the game and knew that Luke needed to be on his A-game tonight. However, Luke did keep his promise of giving you the best seats in the house ─ you felt as though you were really on the ice, with the players.

You stood in the stands, watching as Luke and the rest of the team warmed up on the ice. As the puck dropped and the game began, you cheered loudly, your heart filled with pride for your favorite player.

The Rangers came out strong, controlling the puck and applying pressure on the Devils' defense early on. Despite their best efforts, the Devils struggled to gain momentum, facing relentless attacks from their opponents.

In the end, it was a hard-fought battle, but the Rangers had won. You weren't disappointed, no. But you knew how hard everyone could be on Luke, despite him being a rookie. You were a little conflicted, maybe this wasn't the best game you could've came to.

Luke made his way towards the tunnel, his expression disappointed. You knew this one of the biggest games of the season and knowing Luke, he probably thought it was all his fault.

You knew how much he poured into every game, and it pained you to see him shouldering the weight of the loss. Despite your conflicted feelings about the outcome of the game, your support for Luke never wavered.

You made your way out of the arena, waiting outside the player's exit area. You glanced around, scanning the area for any sign of Luke or the rest of the team. As the minutes passed, you shifted from foot to foot, nerves knotting in your stomach as you waited.

Finally, the door to the player's exit swung open, and you held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. And then, there he was—Luke emerged from the doorway, his expression still clouded with disappointment from the game.

You stepped forward, a sympathetic smile tugging at your lips as you approached him. "Hey, Luke," you called out, your voice soft.

Luke's gaze met yours as he bit the inside of his cheek. "Hey."

You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him and you couldn't help but frown. You looked up at the taller brunette as he sighed.

"I'm sorry that I, uh wasted your time. I should have invited you to a better game." Luke apologized, his voice tinged with self-doubt.

You shook your head, a sympathetic smile touching your lips as you gazed up at him. "Luke, you didn't waste my time," you reassured him, your tone gentle yet firm. "Being here with you, win or lose, means more to me than you'll ever know."

"Yeah but we got our asses handed to us out there. And you had to see that." He shrugged as he sniffled, his gaze averting yours.

You could sense the weight of Luke's disappointment as he spoke, his words heavy with frustration and self-doubt. Gently, you reached out to hold his hand. His touch was tense before he relaxed into your touch.

"Luke, it doesn't matter what the scoreboard says," you said earnestly, your voice soft yet unwavering. "What matters is that you gave it your all out there, and that's something to be proud of."

Luke's eyes stilled, a flicker of vulnerability shining in his expression. "But we lost,"

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering him a small, understanding smile. "Win or lose, you're still out there doing what you," you reminded him. "And that's worth more than any score."

He sighed before he finally met your gaze. His expression softened for a moment, as he admired you. He let out a sigh before he pulled you in, embracing you tightly.

You both pulled away, Luke's lips slowly curving into a smile as he gazed at you. He let out a small chuckle before he shook his head. "God, this is depressing. What kind of date is this?"

"A date?" You repeated, chuckling. "Is this your idea of a date?"

Luke's cheeks flushed slightly as he realized what he had said, his embarrassment evident in the way he averted his gaze momentarily. "Uh, I mean..." he stammered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I just meant... hanging out with you, you know?"

You couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness, finding his genuine charm endearing. "Well, in that case, it's the best date I've ever been on," you exaggerated with a playful wink.

Luke's smile widened at your response, the warmth in his eyes mirroring the affection you felt for him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, reaching out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"Shut up. This is probably the worst one," he chuckled as he shook his head. "Watching as your date's ass get beat isn't exactly... the best."

You couldn't help but laugh at Luke's self-deprecating humor, easing the tension of the moment. "No, I've definitely had worse dates."

"How about I make it up to you?" Luke smiled as he pulled you in closer. You felt your face flush as you laughed.

"Are you asking me on a second date, Luke?" You teased, a playful glint in your eyes as you looked up at him.

Luke's smile widened, his expression earnest as he met your gaze. "I guess I am," he replied, his voice soft. "I owe you one, after all."

"Well, in that case, I'll gladly accept," you said with a grin, leaning into his embrace.

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