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elia-the-bibliophile · 15 days

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Sad, Beautiful, Tragic (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Angst Word count: 3,5k

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself standing near the open window overlooking the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

The salty breeze carried the scent of the sea through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of sand and seaweed. Seagulls soared gracefully overhead, their cries echoing in the distance as they rode the currents above the crashing waves. The sky above was painted in hues of orange and pink, the last remnants of daylight fading into the darkness of night.

In the distance, the silhouette of lighthouses stood sentinel against the twilight, their beams cutting through the gathering dusk to guide sailors safely home. Along the shoreline, traditional clapboard houses nestled among the dunes, their weathered exteriors a testament to the passage of time. And as the waves rhythmically kissed the sandy shore, a sense of tranquility settled over the landscape, wrapping it in a blanket of serenity that whispered of secrets waiting to be discovered.

Your gaze drifted to the locket hanging around your neck, the silver chain glinting in the fading light, holding a childhood image of Max close to your heart. Its familiar weight always been a source of comfort for you.

Allowing yourself to be sweep off to a daydream, memory of him lingered like a ghost. Every time you close your eyes, you imagine the two of you having warm conversations, the words flowing effortlessly between you, as if no time had passed at all.

Reality crashed down upon you, pulling you back to the harsh truth of your separate lives. In different cities, you both woke in lonely beds.

__________________________________________

[Flashback]

The tension in the air was palpable as you and Max stood facing each other, words hanging heavy between you like a storm waiting to break.

"I just don't understand why you're always moving around," you exclaimed, frustration seeping into your voice. "We barely spend any time together anymore."

Max's jaw clenched, his gaze hardening as he spoke. "This is my life, Y/N. Racing is what I do, what I live for. You knew that when we got together. Don’t you turn this on me.”

"I know, but it's like you're always off chasing something else," you shot back, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. "I thought we were supposed to be in this together."

His eyes flashed with anger, voice rising as he lashed out. "You'll never understand what it's like to be an F1 driver. The demands, the pressure—it's not something you can just turn on and off as you please."

Your heart sank at your lover’s words, the sting of his accusation cutting deep. "So what, I'm supposed to just drop everything and follow you around like some trophy girlfriend? Is that what you want?"

Max's expression softened, regret flickering in his eyes as he reached out to touch your arm. "I didn't mean it like that, schatje. But maybe if you were more like the other girlfriends—"

Your eyes narrowed, hurt turning to anger as you pulled away from his touch. "I shouldn't have to change who I am just to fit into your new life, Max. If you can't accept me for who I am, then maybe we shouldn't be together at all."

With those words hanging between you like a chasm too wide to bridge, you turned and walked away, leaving Max to grapple with the weight of his own expectations and the reality of what it meant to truly love someone.

__________________________________________

The days that followed were filled with a heavy silence, the distance between you and Max feeling impregnable even within the confines of your shared home. Each moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, filled with the weight of unresolved tensions.

Then, one evening, as you sat alone in the living room with the cats on your lap, Max entered, his footsteps hesitant as if unsure of his welcome.

Max began softly, “Why are we so out of sync these days, schat. Godverdomme, I hate fighting with you.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. "I don’t know, Max… It's like we're trapped in this hellish cycle we can't break."

Max approached you, his expression pleading. "Have we truly lost our way?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you met his gaze, the pain of misunderstanding tearing at your heart. "Can you just hold me right now?”

With a deep breath, Max closed the distance between you, his touch gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Come here, mijn liefje.”

As you melted into his embrace, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by the fragile hope of reconciliation. In the quiet sanctuary of your home, you dared to think that things are going to get better.

__________________________________________

You know what they say, the golden days never last for long. And yours turn dull in the blink of an eye.

A few months passed, you couldn't escape the constant reminders of Max's growing closeness with Kelly Piquet. Their pictures seemed to be everywhere, captured in different corners of the world, each one a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

Kelly's job as a model and influencer afforded her the flexibility to travel to every Grand Prix with ease, a stark contrast to your own demanding career as a business consultant in Monaco. As you scrolled through social media, the self-doubt gnawed at you. Had Max found your replacement in Kelly?

You tried to push aside the nagging thoughts, reminding yourself that trust was the foundation of any relationship. But as the whispers and rumors grew louder, fueled by the constant presence of Kelly in Max's life, your insecurities threatened to consume you. Whenever Max have his photo taken, Kelly is only a few steps behind.

You decided to click on a more recent video due to the attention it has garnered. Max’s face appeared, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"And what about Kelly Piquet?" the interviewer asked, a knowing glint in their eye. "You two seem to have become quite close recently. Can you tell us about your newfound friendship?"

Max let out a breathy laugh, "Kelly is really fun to be around," he began. "We share a lot of the same interests, especially when it comes to racing and traveling."

You feel your throat closing up with every word he spoke, but he continues on, "She's introduced me to so many new experiences, including meeting her father, Nelson Piquet. It was an honor to spend time with him and get some feedbacks on how to better improve myself."

As the interview continued to play, each word feeling like a dagger to your heart, you couldn't bear to hear any more.

The interviewer nodded, their interest piqued by Max's genuine enthusiasm. "It sounds like you two have—,”

With a flick of your wrist, you closed the video, the screen going dark as you threw your phone across the room. Jimmy and Sassy, startled by the sudden commotion, scurried away, their tails fluffed with alarm.

Alone in the silence of your apartment, the pain and frustration boiled over, and with a scream of anguish, you unleashed the pent-up emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

"Fuck you, Max Verstappen!" you shouted, the words echoing off the walls as tears streamed down your face. In that moment, the weight of betrayal felt almost too much.

As the echoes of your scream faded into the stillness of the night, you collapsed onto the floor, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. And in the darkness, with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breaths, you allowed yourself to grieve for the love you had lost.

__________________________________________

The darkness of your despair seemed to swallow you whole. The thought of even touching your phone filled you with dread, terrified of stumbling upon yet another headline or photo of Max and Kelly together.

You had moved to Monaco with hopes of being closer to Max, to build a life together. But now, it was clear that those hopes had been nothing but illusions.

With each passing moment, the love you once felt for Max began to chip away, replaced by a seething anger that burned hot. How dare he throw you away like yesterday's news, all because you no longer fit into the life of a World’s Champion?

In a moment of clarity, you made the decision to pack your bags, to leave behind the city that held nothing but painful memories and broken promises. There was no use in clinging to a love that had been so callously discarded, no future left for you in a place that only served to remind you of what you had lost and failed to keep.

As you moved through the apartment, gathering your belongings, Jimmy and Sassy followed close behind, their soft purrs and gentle nudges a silent comfort in the midst of your turmoil. It was as if they understood, as if they knew that you were leaving, and their presence offered a small solace.

Meanwhile on the other side of the globe, Max's anxiety grew with each unanswered call. Every attempt to reach out only led to the cold emptiness of voicemail, leaving him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Scenes of your last encounter replayed in his mind, each one a painful reminder of the words left unsaid and the hurt he had caused. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, that he had pushed you away when you needed him the most.

"Come on, schat, please pick up," he repeated, the desperation evident in his voice.

Growing desperate, Max even reached out to the security of his building, hoping for any sign of your whereabouts. But their responses only deepened his fear, confirming that you hadn't been seen in days.

With a heavy heart, Max realized the gravity of his actions. He had let his own ambitions blind him to the pain he had caused you, and now, he feared it might be too late to make things right.

His hands trembled as he dialed his manager's number. "Get the jet ready for me, I need to fly back to Monaco immediately," he demanded, the urgency in his voice brooking no argument.

"Max, we're in the middle of a Grand Prix," his manager protested, the disbelief evident in his tone. "You can't just leave."

Max's jaw clenched, frustration boiling over as he shouted into the phone, "Fuck that! My girlfriend needs me."

With a determined resolve, Max hung up the phone, his mind set on one thing and one thing only: finding you and making things right. For in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not even all his titles.

__________________________________________

As Max stepped into the apartment, a sense of dread washed over him like a tidal wave. The emptiness of the space seemed to echo with the absence of your presence.

Frantically, he searched for any sign of you, his heart pounding in his chest with each passing moment. But the apartment yielded no clues, no trace of your belongings, not even a lingering scent to suggest that you had been there recently.

The reality of your absence hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and reeling. The walls seemed to close in around him, suffocating him with the weight of his own regret.

"Where are you?" Max's voice echoed through the empty apartment, filled with desperation. "Please, Y/N, don't leave me like this!"

His shouts reverberated off the walls, each one a plea for your return, a desperate cry for forgiveness. But the silence that greeted him was deafening, broken only by the sound of his own ragged breaths.

"Please, liefje, I can't bear to be without you," he begged, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'll do anything to make things right, just please come back to me."

But his words hung unanswered in the air, swallowed by the vast emptiness of the apartment. And as Max sank to the floor, tears streaming down his face, he realized that he had let the love of his life slip away, and now, there was no guarantee that he would ever find his way back to her again.

Still he will try, dammit he promise he will.

Max dialed the numbers of your closest friends, his heart pounding with urgency. "Hello? It's Max," he began, his voice tight with emotion. "I am very sorry to bother you but… do you know where Y/N is? I screwed up I know but has she said anything?”

There was a hesitant pause on the other end of the line before your friend responded cautiously, "I'm sorry, Max. I can't help you with that."

Max's frustration boiled over as he pleaded, "Please… I need to know if she's okay. I need to find her."

But each conversation ended the same way, with her friends refusing to reveal anything about your whereabouts. It was as if you had disappeared without a trace, leaving Max with no leads.

As he hung up the phone for the umpteenth time, Max realized that he was truly alone in his search for you. And with each passing moment, the sense of desperation grew, driving him to the brink of madness as he searched for any clue that would lead him back to you.

Max reached a point of exhaustion so profound that his body finally succumbed, and he slipped into unconsciousness. A faint memory surfaced from the depths of his subconscious—a conversation with you, a moment frozen in time.

"If you could run away, where would you go?" he asked, the words hanging in the air between you as you lay together, your head resting against his chest.

You drew lazy circles on his skin as you pondered his question, your voice soft with contemplation. "I guess I would go to Rhode Island."

In his dreams, Max found himself transported to a tranquil beach on the shores of Rhode Island, the gentle waves lapping at his feet as the salty breeze kissed his skin. The sound of seagulls echoed in the distance, their cries a soothing melody that carried on the wind.

With a sudden jerk, Max's eyes snapped open, his heart racing with a newfound sense of clarity. Rhode Island. The words echoed in his mind.

Could it be possible? Could you have truly gone to Rhode Island?

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up to see Jimmy and Sassy approaching, their usual playful demeanor replaced by a palpable sense of sadness.

Max's heart sank at the sight of his beloved cats looking so forlorn. With a heavy sigh, he reached out to them, offering a comforting touch as they nuzzled against his hand.

"I know," Max murmured. "I'm sorry I made mum leave, but I promise we'll get her back."

The cats gazed up at him with soulful eyes, as if understanding his words. In that moment, Max would do anything to bring you back home where you belonged.

__________________________________________

In the cozy living room of your temporary home in Rhode Island, you and your best friend, Lily Muni He who also happens to be the girlfriend of Alex Albon sat together, surrounded by boxes and scattered belongings as you worked to settle in. The soft glow of afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm ambiance over the room.

As you unpacked, Lily's presence brought a sense of comfort and familiarity, her easy smile and gentle demeanor easing the weight of your recent upheaval.

With a sigh, you set aside a box and turned to Lily. "Thank you for helping me with all of this," you said, gratitude lacing your words. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Lily smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, love. You know I'll always be here for you," she replied, her voice soft with sincerity.

Taking a seat beside you, Lily reached out to grasp your hand in hers, a gesture of solidarity and support. "I know this hasn't been easy for you," she continued, her tone gentle. "But I want you to know that you're not alone. Me and Alex are here for you, every step of the way."

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt the weight of Lily's words wash over you. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice catching with emotion.

Lily’s gaze lingers on you with sadness. "I'll miss seeing you around the paddock," she said. "It won't be the same without you there."

You smiled weakly. "I'll miss it too," you admitted. "But I think it's time for a fresh start, you know?"

She nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I get that," her tone gentle. "Just know that no matter where you go, you'll always have a home with us. Alex and I will come visit you any time we can.”

A wistful expression crossed your face. "I miss the cats," you confessed. "I know it's silly, but they were like family to me."

"It's not silly at all, Y/N” she reassured. "They were a big part of your life, and it's natural to miss them."

You offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Lil," you said, the weight of homesickness easing ever so slightly. "I just hope they're doing okay without me."

"I'm sure they miss you too," she replied. "But Jimmy and Sassy are resilient little creatures. They'll be just fine."

You let out a mirthless laugh. "If you meet him, you should ask Max to get one of those automatic food dispensers. He's away from home most of the time, and last I heard Kelly is allergic to cats."

Lily snorted at your remark, the irony of the situation not lost on either of you. Soon, giggles bubbled up between you, the tension of the moment dissipating in a shared moment of laughter.

"Solid idea," she replied. "I'll be sure to mention it to him if I get the chance."

__________________________________________

As the sun beat down on the bustling city of Doha, reporters from around the world gathered outside the Red Bull Racing garage, their cameras flashing and microphones poised. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation and concern, as whispers of Max Verstappen's mysterious disappearance spread like wildfire through the paddock.

In the heart of the chaos, a reporter with a steely gaze faced the camera, her voice cutting through the clamor of the crowd. "Good evening from Doha, where the Formula 1 world is in a state of shock and confusion," she began, her words echoing across the airwaves.

Behind her, a throng of journalists clamored for attention, shouting questions and jostling for position. Camera crews darted back and forth, capturing every moment of the unfolding drama.

"Max Verstappen, the reigning world champion, has gone MIA," the reporter continued, her brow furrowed with concern. "His absence has sent shockwaves through the paddock, leaving fans and fellow drivers alike bewildered."

As she spoke, images of Verstappen flashed across the screen, capturing his triumphant moments on the track. The tension in the air was palpable, as the world waited with bated breath for any news of the missing champion.

Inside, tension hung thick in the air as Christian Horner paced back and forth, his frustration evident in every furrow of his brow. Beside him, members of the team exchanged worried glances, whispering amongst themselves as they tried to make sense of the situation.

"We need to do damage control, and fast," Horner declared, his voice tight with urgency. "This is not how a reigning world champion should behave."

Checo spoke up with a wry smile. "We all know exactly where he went to," he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "I'm just surprised it took him this long to grow balls."

Horner's frustration turned to bewilderment as he turned to face Checo, his expression a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "What do you mean, Checo?" he demanded, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Kelly Piquet's sudden entrance into the garage caused heads to turn, her expression mirroring Horner's earlier demeanor. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for answers as she approached the group.

"Where is Max? What was he thinking?" she demanded, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Checo, ever the straight shooter, couldn't help but roll his eyes at Kelly's questions. "As if you don't know," he retorted, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

Kelly's eyes narrowed as she locked gazes with him, a flash of annoyance crossing her features. "What's that supposed to mean?" she shot back, her voice edged with irritation.

But before Checo could respond again, Horner stepped forward, his expression grave as he addressed Kelly. "Kelly, we're all trying to figure out what happened," he interjected, his tone firm but measured. "But right now, our priority is to handle the fallout and ensure the team's reputation remains intact."

With Max Verstappen's whereabouts now a hot topic of speculation among the media, the Red Bull Racing team faced an uphill battle to contain the fallout from their champion's sudden departure.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 drabble #f1 fandom

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wh1msic4alwasab1 · 2 months

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𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐡𝐬𝐫/𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𓍼 𐙚 𓍢ִ໋🀦

art cred: gnillhem (x), howdong_ (x), mimmirii_ (insta)

❀ synopsis: how various men would love their chubby gfs <3

❀ genre: smut

❀ a/n: as a chonky gal myself this was so fun to write, also this was an ankn req from my old blog!

❀ tags: nsfw, mirror sex, praise, explicit, vulgar, cunnalingus, riding, fluff(?)

❀ Gallagher- You can’t tell me this man isn’t obsessed with curvy women. Absolutely enthralled by all your dips and mounds; feasting his eyes all over your figure and making sure no one in the bar ogles over you too hard. Just a little is fine though. Only a little.

He’s definitely possessive over you, but not controlling in the slightest.

In public, he’ll hug you from behind and squeeze you lovingly. And when you nap he’ll lay his head down on your stomach with his body inbetween your legs, loving when you graze your hand through his hair.

His hands though, love to hold every part of your body when you’re on top of him; especially your hips.

“Oh, god, right there,” you moaned, as his hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements up and down his cock. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as your skin pressed together, each movement sending a wave of pleasure through your clit. He relished in the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips, his hands roaming up her back, down your sides, never wanting to let go.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. He looked at you like you were the only woman in the world.

❀ Wrio- Doesn’t necessarily care about body types, but is obsessed with thighs. Doesn’t matter where, if he’s seated next to you his hand will be placed on your knee like a brace. He rubs them with his thumb, even if he’s driving they’ll be all over you. He’s always touching you, feeling your skin against his.

Oh yeah, by the way, he’s obsessed with your thighs. So much so that he’d do anything to be buried in them.

“Stay still…” He’d plead, muffled monotone coming from between your legs as is face is stuffed in the middle. His tongue traces up and down your exposed slit, hands gripping onto the fat of your thighs as his face is completely engulfed from side to side, marked up with marks of his teeth and colors of deep purple from his tender kisses.

“Wrio-“ You moan out- tempting to open your legs as the pleasure arose, earning a loud and stinging slap on your ass from your lover.

“Still.” He affirms, continuing to wring all the cum out of you, lapping it up while massaging your thighs with his palms.

❀ Diluc- Incredibly flaunting of you, you’re his beautiful prized possession. Not that your a trophy wife, but it would be a crime against teyvat to keep the world from seeing you.

Diluc especially loves to see you in the finest silks and chiffon.

The only thing he loves to see you in other than the most expensive fibers, is just nothing at all.

Every time he undresses you, his breath hitches at the sight of your benevolence. He loves the way you feels under his touch.

His favorite way to undress you, is right infront of the mirror. Standing behind you, he unties the buttons that trail down your back. It’s his favorite dress on you, but it’s subjected to the cold marble floors like every other peice of clothing he’s torn off you.

Slowly he drops the sleeves down, moving your hair out the way so he can plant kisses to your neck, one hand snaked around from behind you to hold your neck. The other groping and squeezing your breasts, before trailing down to feel your wet folds inside your panties.

“Pull these off.” He says, and you eagerly comply, sliding your panties to the side as he watches you infront of him in the reflection.

He takes in the sight before him, his eyes roaming over your exposed body, making you feel vulnerable yet completely safe in his embrace. 'You're perfect,' he whispers, before he turns his lips to descend on yours, igniting a fire within you that can only be extinguished by him.

It’s not long before he has you sitting on the dresser opposite of the mirror so he can force you to watch him fuck you. So that you can see how hungry he is for you, with your own two eyes.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

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mysticheathenn · 1 month

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What Will Make You Financially Abundant?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is for my Patreon All Tiers. This pick-a-card reading is all about what will bring financial stability and abundance into your life.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

Extended Patreon Includes:

What do you need to let go of to bring this to fruition?

What will this abundance bring or gift me?

Extra Messages

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Pile l:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: 4 of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Strength, 4 of Cups, King of Swords, Ace of Swords

Following your truth. I know you are probably looking for a straight answer like me saying your current career, a sugar daddy, or the lottery but pile l you are what will bring financial abundance to you. A lot of you are constantly sleeping on the many ideas that spirit has given you because you are either too scared to take the leap, don't believe you are good enough, your idea isn't good enough, or you believe it's already been done before. Either way, you are the key to bringing in this abundance into your life by acting on the ideas that come to you no matter how ridiculous or "bland" they may seem. You are basically sleeping on your own potential and what you can bring into your life. Some of you are even hold yourself back by having a scarcity mindset, not believing that you can bring in financial stability or abundance. Stand in your power or for a few of you stand in your purpose that keeps knocking at your door that you keep ignoring because of fear. This reminds me of a pile in my previous reading. I believe it was pile 3 from my "What Do You Still Need to Heal From?" Reading. Wake up. Smell the coffee and get to work. Stop putting off your ideas. Stop ignoring your ideas. Stop ignoring the path that keeps popping up in your life for you to take. This reminds me of the scene from Barbie where she didn't want to find out why she was "malfunctioning" but she had to find out because if she doesn't she would end up like weird Barbie. This is you pile l...if you don't walk the path you were meant to walk, listen to your ideas, and release this scarcity mindset...you will continue to struggle. Patreon Post Link

Pile ll:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, 3 of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, 4 of Cups, 2 of Cups, King of Wands

Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby is playing in my head as I try to listen for your message pile ll. For some of you this is between a wealthy benefactor or you marrying rich. Especially with the 2 of cups being a card mostly related to romance but it can be used for business opportunities. Another song playing in my head is Finer Things by FEYI. This is my materialistic pile that wants the tips and trips to the island - Money Honey by Lady Gaga. You are all about living a luxurious lifestyle one way or another. You may resonate with wanting a soft life than constantly always being in your masculine energy and bossing everyone around. For some of you, you don't want to work because you believe that you were meant to be some CEO, NFL, NBA, or Tech's spoiled Girlfriend, and others, you want to have the option to work. Maybe you want a small side business like most Trophy Wives living in Beverly Hills where they have a side business to keep them busy instead of always shopping. I can already see you sitting at a cafe, or a spa trip, and international trips with your closest friends. You're surrounded by your spoiled girlfriend friends living the good life sipping champagne while receiving just because gifts from your lover and even push presents for those who want to be a stay-at-home wife. A push present is where you get a gift for your hard work in carrying a child. This pile reminds me of the TLC special that used to run called The Secrets of a Trophy Wife with Jennifer Stano and Layla Milani (I love both of them, especially Layla) her husband absolutely adores her and that's what you want pile ll. (Click the show name for the show trailer of what I was talking about). You want that soft life where you are adored, pampered, and living life of luxury filled with beautiful things and love. Patreon Post Link

Pile lll:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: The Fool, High Priestess, The Sun, 4 of Wands, 10 of Wands, The Hermit (reversed), 2 of Wands (reversed)

This is more my spiritual, philanthropy, and humanitarian pile. What will bring you financial abundance is walking in your purpose where you were meant to help others in some shape or form. This could be you working in the medical field, being a lawyer, a spiritual guru, life or spiritual coach, tarot reader, dietician/herbalist, whatever it is you were meant to make your abundance by being of service to other people. I feel some of you know this but you don't want to answer the call because of fear or because of the amount of hard work that comes along with doing this kind of thing. Yes it is taxing some days on the soul but overall all this is what you were meant to do, help others. Bring awareness to certain things in life that will get people talking. I don't want any of you to think the list of occupations is only it, it can also be a techer or whatever else occupation where you are making a difference for the future and in others lives. But it is something that will be hard work to the point some days you will question if it worth it because of how much you have to do in order to bring in this success but you will always be reminded in some form that it is definitely worth it and to keep going. Patreon Post Link

Pile lV:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: Ace of Swords, Ace of Cups, 3 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles, 6 of Pentacles, 6 of Swords

This pile is a mixture of walking away from your current job for something better, following a business venture, or even just doing freelancing (Etsy, Fiverr, Upwork, etc). I don't know what you are up to pile lv all I know is that you are unsatisfied with where you are currently because of either a toxic workplace or knowing that you can make more money elsewhere but aren't sure where to start. Here is your sign to leave and go where you are meant to go. Again this is a general reading and everyone has a different job. Leaving your job for a better environment and higher pay is one thing but for most of you I feel you want to open your own business, or just freelance your work or maybe even work from home is what I am hearing for a few of you. Either way, this idea you have is completely doable it just involves you leaving where you are currently at. Some of you aren't scared you just aren't too sure about the future and just need a push to get there while others of you are waiting for a sign or a more solid reason to leave because you listen too much to other people who wouldn't understand why you left because of XYZ and I am here to tell you to just do you. You do not need to answer to other people on why you left a job to pursue something better. Not every wave was meant to be chased or followed and this goes for where you are currently especially since you are miserable where you are now. Patreon Post Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

#spirituality #tarot reading #witchblr #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot cards #pac tarot #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a photo #pick an image #patreon

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nataliasquote · 2 months

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Lost In The Fire | F1 au | n romanoff

Summary: A horrific crash tests Natasha’s nerves to the limit as she has no choice but to sit back and watch from the garage. Her girlfriend and her sister push themselves for that all important win.

Warnings: car crash, fire, panic attacks, mild hallucinations

wc: 4.5k

note: this is for all my f1 lovers out there. combining my favourite things: Natasha Romanoff and Formula 1

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Yelena Belova and Y/n Y/l/n were some of the best drivers that Formula 1 had seen and were also the first females to ever set records during an F1 season. McLaren had taken the racing world by storm with the first ever all-female driver line up and were Red Bull's fiercest competitors.

Under the guidance of Zac Brown and the rest of the team at McLaren, they had had a teammate on the podium for every single race of the season. Yelena was in the running for the World Championship... well, she would be with who her race engineer was.

Natasha Romanoff had been the head strategist for Mercedes for years until she made the move to McLaren as Race Engineer last year, and she never looked back. She preferred having contact with her drivers and she and Yelena had a good professional relationship, putting sisterly squabbles aside to focus on the main goal for the team. A power duo that fans adored and sponsors just couldn’t get enough of.

Y/n Y/l/n was brought in as an emergency replacement during the middle of last season due to an accident and Zac had decided to keep her permanently. Not only did the young driver catch the attention of the press, she also caught Natasha Romanoff's eye.

She was feisty, fast and courageous on the track, making overtakes that seemed impossible to onlookers. She shot down all negativity and sexism that she faced in interviews and held her trophies above her head with pride for everything she had achieved, quickly becoming an idol for young drivers across the world.

Nat was quick to fall for her, and Y/n soon followed. Their relationship was kept quiet and only a few members of their team knew, including Zac and Yelena. They stayed professional and unbiased and Natasha purposely didn't swap places with Y/n's race engineer, Andrew Jarvis. Guiding her sister was one thing, but her girlfriend? Too risky. Her job required objectivity that often went out of the window with Y/n.

But having relationships with both of her drivers, Natasha often found herself a mess of nerves during each race weekend. Formula one was extremely dangerous, but her girls were sensible. They didn't race recklessly and they left the room they needed, their overtakes well within track limits and never at the expensive of another driver. Plus they didn't race each other too much, unlike other teams she could mention. They were sneaky, but never dirty.

The Bahrain race was Y/n's favourite. She adored night races and something about the lights illuminating around the circuit lit a fire inside her that had her bubbling with excitement. But she kept her cool, qualifying in P2 alongside Max Verstappen in P1, beating her by 0.02 of a second. One of her closest friends off the track, but her most annoying rival behind the wheel. Yelena was in P6 after an issue with her steering that was making her car difficult to handle around the corners.

But the blonde Russian had a fire in her stomach and she had her sights set on P1. She remained iron focussed during the race build up, running over the plan for the race with Natasha with a stony expression, fully in race mode. Natasha was the best coach and settled her nerves so she could drive the best she possibly could. She felt the cameras on her but refused pre-race interviews. The Russian didn't need any reporters riling her up before the big race.

Y/n left Yelena alone after they did their ritual little handshake, something they were both too superstitious to avoid. She knew Yelena would race hard, but Y/n also wanted that P1 spot and her biggest focus was getting a good start and pulling ahead of Verstappen before turn one. A good start would set her up for the rest of the race and winning would mean she'd become a threat to the championship title. A world championship in a driver's first year was almost unheard of, but Y/n Y/l/n loved attempting the impossible.

Her gloves gripped the wheel as she set off on the formation lap, keeping control of the car whilst also weaving to warm up her tyres. Being on the front row was good, but her tyres also had longer to cool down as all the other drivers made their way around the track too. She heard Jarv’s voice through her radio but part of her still wished it was Natasha. They didn't get much alone time during the race weekend because the cameras and reporters were everywhere and they couldn't risk getting caught. It was a small price to pay but it hurt Y/n more on weekends like this.

Y/n pulled her car into her spot on the grid and readjusted her gloves as she waited in anticipation. This part was the worst. Every weekend the wait felt longer, and all she could hear was the blood rushing past her ears. The crowds were blocked out by her helmet and the roar of the engine was second nature now.

The world seemed to go silent as the five red lights flicked on at the front of the grid and Natasha held her breath. There wasn't much she could do to guide Yelena through the first few corners and more often than not it was total chaos. Every single driver would be pushing to overtake and sometimes driving three abreast along the track and through narrow corners. She could only pray that both girls made it safely through.

Yelena stared at the lights, fingers hovering over the buttons on her steering wheel, her lightning fast reflexes kicking in immediately as the red lights went out and all the cars surged forwards. She accelerated hard, quickly swerving around another car in front of her and pulling alongside him. She could see an AlphaTauri in her wing mirror coming dangerously close but she kept her focus ahead, trying to spot a gap to slip through to join Y/n who had just managed to pull slightly ahead from Max.

A gap opened up along the inside line of the track and Yelena made a move, pulling across the racing line and angling her car towards the empty space she could see. Natasha spoke calmly down her ear, telling her the cars behind her and also what was happening in front of her. There seemed to be a surge of cars, causing everyone to slow down and others to slip around the outside, but Yelena was headed in the wrong direction.

She cut across the track and tried to drive up the inside of a Ferrari but felt something hit the back of her car and suddenly she was spinning off into the gravel, the car completely out of her control. There was radio static in her ears and she could do nothing but take her hands off the steering wheel and brace for the impact that was sure to shake her as her car collided with the barrier at an incredible force of 67G. She heard a loud crack and felt an immense wave of heat before blackness overtook her vision.

Meanwhile, Y/n had managed to secure her position in-front of Max before she saw the red flags waving from the Marshall posts that she drove past. Crashes were not uncommon during lap one, but a red flag was never welcome sight.

"That's a red flag, Y/l/n, box please," Jarv spoke over the radio.

Y/n saw the flames ignite in her wing mirrors but couldn't identify who it was in the rush of cars. Her heart dropped to her stomach at whoever was in danger. They may all be rivals, fighting it out for the championship title, but these guys were also her friends. The pain of a crash wasn’t something she wished upon even her worst enemies. Especially not a crash like that.

"Who was that?"

"Just return to the pits please Y/l/n, return to the pits."

"Jarv, who was it?"

There was a slight pause and Y/n had become a bit too good at reading the subtle switches in her engineer's voice, even through the crackly radio. "No," she breathed out, eyes becoming slightly blurry with tears that she tried to blink away as she lead the pack of cars around the track and towards the pits at a slow speed. "Is she ok?"

"We haven't heard anything yet," Andrew admitted, making Y/n curse. "You'll know the moment we do."

Y/n's mind instantly flickered to Natasha who would be losing her mind right now. She wanted nothing more than to speed to the pits and run to her girlfriend, but she didn't want to get disqualified for going too quickly under red flag conditions. With shaking hands and very laboured breathing, she guided her car down the straight and around the corner, driving fully on autopilot.

"Is she out of the car?"

"Negative. Still nothing." These updates were beginning to piss her off.

Once all the cars were in the pit lane, the drivers all jumped out of their cars and rushed to their engineers, trying to hear any updates. They may all be competitors vying for that top spot, but when an accident like Yelena's happens, everyone comes together in solidarity.

"Please tell me you've heard something!" Y/n exclaimed, running into the garage with her helmet and balaclava tucked under her arm. All the screens were filled with pictures of Yelena's car, and the young driver felt like she was going to throw up.

In front of the metal barrier was the back part of the car... but that was it. The papaya McLaren chassis had completely split in half and lodged the front part well within the barrier, which was engulfed in flames. Marshals and fire crews were surrounding the scene with extinguishers but they were hardly effective against the roaring and fuelled flames.

Silence had fallen across the entire circuit, no one daring to breathe as they waited in sickening anticipation. Y/n felt the room begin to spin and she desperately tried to ground herself before she crumbled.

Y/n tore her eyes away from the horrifying images, searching around the garage for the bright red hair of her girlfriend. Natasha of course was hunched over her station, hands clutching the mic attached to her headset, repeatedly talking over the radio but never getting a response back. She stepped away from her screen and ran her hands over her face, trying to hide the tears from the rest of the crew around her.

But Y/n noticed, and in that moment she didn't care who saw them. She marched over and pulled the shaking redhead into her arms. No one really noticed, they were too busy anxiously waiting and watching in shock.

Natasha felt the strong arms of her girlfriend encase her shoulders and she crumpled to the floor, knocking her pen onto the floor as she fell. Y/n cradled her head close to her chest and gently pulled off her headphones and mic, ignoring the redhead's weak protests.

"No, Y/n, I need-"

"Hey," she spoke softly, looking down at Natasha's teary face. "Zac is also on radio, it's ok."

Natasha shook her head and pressed her face into the smooth fabric of Y/n's race suit. She tried desperately to stop the tears from falling, but the moment one rolled down her cheek, the rest just wouldn't stop. The tiled floor of the McLaren garage was uncomfortable to kneel on but she really didn't care. Her chest and body ached so much she could do nothing but cry, knowing the situation was out of her hands.

Y/n slowly dropped to the floor with her, keeping a tight grip on the woman in her arms as she stared at the screens ahead, waiting for any sign of Yelena. But as the seconds ticked on agonisingly slowly, hope slipped away from the young driver and reality started to set in.

In all her years of racing, never had she seen a crash that intense. It was always a risk, but with the increased safety precautions that the latest cars now had, chances of surviving a crash were higher than ever.

With her face still buried in her chest but eyes peaking over Y/n's shoulder, Natasha let out a small whimper as the fire surged towards a group of marshals and sent them running backwards. There were several cameramen inside the Mclaren garage now; it was their car in the wall so of course they were there. But their presence didn't stop Y/n from pressing a kiss to the soft hair on Natasha's head and leaning her cheek against it, her palm rubbing comforting circles on her back.

"She'll be ok, I know she will."

"You don't know that Y/n," Natasha said with a shaky voice, pulling back so she could look her girlfriend in the eyes. "What if-?"

"Don't do that to yourself Natasha. Yelena is the toughest girl, you know that. She's got her suit, her gloves, her helmet, she's going to be ok." Natasha didn't look convinced but she didn't comment, staying tightly in Y/n's hold for a few more moments.

After a few deep breaths, she shakily pulled herself to her feet and held her palm out for Y/n to do the same. Nat wanted nothing than to stay on the floor with Y/n blocking out the rest of the world, but her job wasn’t finished. Although sometimes ignoring reality was far more tempting.

But when they stood, instead of dropping hands, the redhead kept a tight grip on the race driver's hand and walked over to Zac who was watching the screen with his hands clasped to his chest.

"Still nothing?" Natasha asked, referring to the previously silent radio.

Zac turned around and his eyes darted to their intertwined fingers before looking Natasha in the eye. He shook his head sadly and chose not to comment on her tear stained face.

Natasha stepped behind Y/n and draped her arms over her shoulders and clasped them in front of her chest, sighing in relief when the driver held them close. She needed to keep Y/n in her vision to remind herself that she was ok. Her fingertips brushed the race suit material absentmindedly in a comforting and grounding motion.

But the longer the silence lasted, the more panicked Natasha became, despite her best efforts to calm herself. She hated how vulnerable she felt, but seeing those flames and no sign of her sister crumbled her stony facade, tearing down her walls with immense force. She had to hold on to Y/n to steady herself. One of her girls was here, she was ok, so the other needed to be too.

She tried closing her eyes, but the images of the roaring flames were burned into her mind and she was unable to escape from this nightmare. She only realised she had spiralled into an anxiety attack when the soft palms of her girlfriend gently held the sides of her face to get her attention.

"Breathe with me, you've got it." Y/n exaggerated her breaths but Natasha ignored her, swallowing thickly and turning her attention back to the screens once again. She needed to get a grip of herself, this was no place to fall apart. But her chest still heaved despite her efforts, constricting her throat and every muscle in her body. “Nat, look at me.”

Y/n watched her side profile and the bob of her throat as she forced down her anxiety and her laboured breathing. Natasha didn't have the healthiest coping mechanisms and Y/n was never happy with how the redhead dealt with her feelings, but she was as stubborn as they came and she couldn't be convinced otherwise.

"Nat-"

"Not now, Y/n, please," Nat replied, her voice fragile. "I just need to see Yelena." She tried to wish it into existence, but the seconds ticked on and there was still no movement from the flames. Yelena's chances of survival were becoming smaller with every spark.

Slipping her hand back into Nat's, Y/n offered her comfort silently. She could feel the trembles in Natasha's fingers and only squeezed harder. She hadn't given herself a moment to register her own anxiety; it wasn't good as a driver. It only took one small thing to send her mind reeling into a bout of overthinking and stress, pulling her focus away from the task at hand.

She could see some of the other drivers lined up along the wall, some with their heads down and others looking up at the night sky as everyone willed and prayed for Yelena to be ok.

"I can't-" Natasha's broken voice pulled Y/n back to the present and she stared into the blown pupils of her lover with concern. "I need her. I need to see her!" The race engineer was usually so collected, never once cracking under the immense pressure of her job. But this had rattled Natasha, and rightfully so, but it was still an alien sight to see her so distressed.

"It's ok, it's ok," Y/n muttered, pulling her into her chest once again and locking her back muscles as she felt Nat's legs buckle. The redhead was exhausted, they all were, but Yelena was the only family she had left. She couldn't afford to lose her, not now. Not ever.

"Don't leave me please, don't leave me!" Natasha sobbed into her ear as Y/n tried to guide her over to a set of plastic chairs at the back of the garage. Still in sight of the tv screens, but far enough away to give Nat some space to breathe. The humidity of the air wasn't helping with how suffocated she felt either.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Nat's head dropped onto her girlfriend's shoulder as she tried to hide her tears from the cameras that were definitely on her now. Y/n glared at the closest one, but her main focus was on Natasha. Not some middle aged man with a camera.

She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and muttered into Natasha's hair, holding her tightly to try and combat the shaking that was currently wracking the redheads body. She'd never seen Nat this worked up before; it scared her slightly. But she had to be the tough one right now. That was her soon to be sister-in-law out there, her teammate. Her Russian blood made her a fighter and Yelena Belova never gave up that easily.

A gasp suddenly broke out amongst the garage crew and Nat lifted her head to see what the commotion was about.

And there it was.

Yelena's figure bursting through the flames, marshals rushing around her and offering their hands as she clambered down from the barrier. The fire still surged around her but she had made a break through... and was still able to walk.

Natasha rushed forwards, frantically wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands to rid her vision of her cruel mind games. But they weren't games, they were real. Yelena was out.

Yelena was alive.

She let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and begged Zac to let her go. He wasn't stupid enough to argue with her, so he nodded and she rushed off down the pit lane, leaving Y/n back at the garage. Her hand felt empty from the sudden loss but she clasped both palms together, knowing Nat didn't mean to leave so abruptly.

The young driver watched her red hair disappear and looked longingly, but Zac stepped in.

"We need you for the race Y/n, I'm sorry." He knew how badly she wanted to see Yelena, but the FIA wouldn't allow a driver to run off as Natasha did. She was family, so there were exceptions. But Y/n wasn't.

She shook her head, choking down the lump in her throat as she turned back to the screen overhead. Yelena looked... ok? She was holding her hands out in front of her carefully and she only had one shoe, but she was walking ok. Her helmet was still on, visor down, so it wasn't easy to see everything yet. But walking away from an accident like that was something that would go down in the history books for sure.

Y/n fiddled with the velcro on her suit and a tear rolled down her cheek as Natasha came into view on the screen, running over to Yelena with tear stained cheeks as the ambulance arrived. The Russian driver was placed on a stretcher and bundled into the back of the ambulance, Nat climbing in too, her palm on her sister's forehead as she tried to stroke her hair back. She was keeping Yelena talking, not letting her eyes close just in case.

No one knew what the hospital results would say, but Y/n was just relieved to see her alive. Deaths in motorsport weren't as rare as they should have been, but she was too young to have ever witnessed one before, never mind her own teammate.

The relief washed over her in a stronger wave than she was expecting and her chest tightened, leaving very little room to breathe. Not even bothering to check with anyone around her, she darted off towards the back of the garage and into the washroom, slamming the door shut with a click of the lock.

Her palms were clammy, sticking to each other as she clasped and unclasped her hands in a desperate bid to calm her breathing. Natasha wasn't here to help, so she had to deal with this one all on her own.

She was only 21, only having lived a very sheltered racing life before coming to Formula 1. The reality of just how dangerous the sport was had come crashing down and had shaken her confidence to the core, rattling her nerves of steel and allowing doubt to set in.

The young driver stared at her exposed reflection in the mirror, harsh white lighting illuminating her dark circles and flushed cheeks. She breathed deep and slow, trying to imagine Natasha's voice in her head guiding her through it, hands on her chest to ground her, heartbeat to heartbeat.

But flashes of the fire still burned in her mind, the light flickering behind her eyelids with each blink. The race wouldn't be cancelled, she'd need to get back into the car at some point tonight. But all she could hear was the rush of blood streaming past her ears that sounded scarily like a roaring fire, phantom heat crawling up her spine and neck, setting each nerve alight as her muscles locked in place.

She wasn't on fire, yet she pulled off her race suit as if she was, slamming on the cold tap and dousing her entire face and neck in ice cold water, shocking her mind out of its hallucination.

No. She couldn't have this now. No matter how much water she used, her skin still felt like it was on fire, prickling under the intense heat that was now shooting down her arms and extending towards her fingertips. She shook her head frantically, bottom lip trembling as she stared her reflection down, forcing herself to notice how there were no flames on her.

"You're ok. You're ok. You're ok," she kept mumbling over and over, not daring to blink in fear of the horrors that lay waiting behind her eyes. She was ok, but in the isolated confines of the bathroom with no one but her mentally shaken self, it was hard to be convinced.

Y/n reached up and tucked a stray hair back into her loose french braid that Natasha had quickly done that morning. She retied the elastic several times to keep her hands busy, swearing at the hairs that got caught around her sweaty fingertips.

Her hair now looked exactly the same as it had done before, but her mind was quieter after visualising Natasha gently tugging the soft strands into the french braid, nails scratching softly across her scalp as she gathered more hair. It was one of the most relaxing sensations she'd ever felt, and just imagining it had eased her crumbling mind. Her body wasn't burning anymore, only smouldering in the ashes that were left behind, a faint tingle still evident along the hairs on her arms.

Her fingers now dipped to the necklace that hung loosely around her neck. Drivers weren't allowed to wear piercings or jewellery for safety reasons, but her necklace was tucked far enough under her fireproofs that no one knew it was there.

Except Natasha. It was her necklace after all. The little arrow was her symbol of luck and she'd given it to Y/n on her first race once they'd made their relationship official. It gave the worried redhead a small piece of mind that Y/n was safe. It may sound stupid to outsiders, but Y/n never started any race without clasping the tiny silver arrow in her palm and wishing hard, truly believing it helped her.

She held onto it now, wishing that Yelena was ok. There was more commotion outside which only meant one thing: the race had been given a restart time.

Splashing another round of cold water to her face and wiping it with a paper towel, she zipped her suit up and rolled her shoulders back as she looked herself in the mirror.

Y/n Y/l/n had a race to win. A first place podium to win for Yelena. Because no one deserved to be up there more than the blonde Russian did. So Y/n was going to do it.

For her.

And two hours later, Y/n stood on the top step of the podium, trophy held high above her head as tears glistened in her eyes. She looked at her team down below and grinned widely. This was for them.

She noticed a large tv camera angled towards her and she turned, bringing the trophy to her side.

“Yelena,” she mouthed, nodding towards the trophy before kissing the cool metal. This win was for the team, but also for Yelena, who deserved that number one spot. She was the true winner, so Y/n proudly dedicated her win to her future sister-in-law and the best teammate she could ever have asked for.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #formula 1 #mclaren #yelena belova #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x you #black widow #scarlett johansson #f1 #florence pugh #natasha romanoff x female

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struggling-with-drivers · 2 months

Text

More brainrot thoughts, blame and thank @pucksandpower

Au where Charles is a gold digger and Max is the f1 driver Charles wants.

Okay okay okay so, can you really blame Charles, like can you really blame Charles?

His mom had been arm candy to his dad, that much was by no means a secret. It might have influenced his way of looking at life, more than anyone realised. But it's not like he wasn't influenced by anything else he grew up with.

The opulence that surrounded him, the over indulgences lurking in every corner, the wealth that absolutely did not whisper. Especially not during those few weeks the entire country breathes for Formula racing.

Charles was raised in luxurity, and it was everything he had ever known. The words your face is all you're worth, had been intrgrained into his mind and body since he was a child. He had showed no really skill in any of his subjects, neither any of the 100s of sports his Maman had rotated him through. He was hopeless at seemingly every single one of them, it did however make him a very interesting person, and if there was one thing Charles Leclerc could.

It was talk.

Charles was a great conversationalist, and an even bigger flirt. Cheeky in just the right way, and seemingly obliviously innocent in every other. Except he knew what he was doing, he knew he was a tease, especially when he ran his hand over someone's chest and practically purred into their ear. About how good he could be.

Then he would pull back, bat his eyelashes. Hook, line and sinker. Charles was have an amazing night, and then be showered in gifts and hush money. With an invitation of next time tucked away in his back pocket.

Pierre had called him a practically unsafe escort once, Charles had corrected him, he was in fact being very safe.

Then Pierre had brought along his Formula 1 colleagues, and can you really blame Charles?

Max had seemed so sweet, so forbidden in the crowd of Eden. Charles wanted to sink his teeth into Max, if not for the hush money, but for the way those eyes would look at him when he begged for more.

Then Max had rejected Charles, even after he had touched his chest, even after he had purred in his ear. Max had even resisted the way Charles battered his eyelashes at him.

What Max hadn't been strong enough to do, was look away. His eyes had been fixed on Charles's open shirt since Pierre had introduced Charles to the other. His gaze locked to the way that translucent shirt had a cut so deep, so when Charles bend over, Max could see his belly button. Not that he needed the gap, the shirt itself was seethrough enough on it's own.

Charles had guided Max's hand to his side, and Max had excused himself for a drink.

Abandoning a full drink on the table.

He had needed air.

Max didn't see Charles again for a month, and he should have known better, in fact he should have expected the beautiful man to show back up in his life. Because then there Charles was. Right at the Monaco GP, walking down the Paddock, his arm linked with someone else, dressed in all red, supporting Ferrari.

Max should have brushed it off and moved along, so why couldn't he?

Why was the only thing he could think about as he accepted the trophy and got doused in champagne, that a certain beautiful man clad in Red would look better in Blue?

Pierre - who Max didn't think he had talked to more than few times in the last year - had clasped his shoulder, warned him not to be stupid. Then that was it, and Max had seen him move away, hug Charles, and pepper a few kisses on his cheeks, before Charles had nuzzled his way back under the arm of some guy Max didn't know. Not that he cared.

But Charles had looked at Max, even as the Monégasque kissed the cheek of his lover? Keeping the eyecontact, as though he had forced Max to watch, a way to taunt this could be you. He needed to get his shit together, they had met once, and seen each other twice.

Then came the victory celebrations, and Max didn't know how Charles had ended up on his lap, there was plently of spaces left in the booth, but he had picked Max's lap as his preferred seat. Except, Charles hadn't looked at Max not even once. Even he had kissed Pierre hello, right there, on Max's lap.

His eyes had been glued to Charles.

Who did not even look at him once, and Max - fully sober - was feeling so fucking intoxicated. Over this guy, a stranger, a something. Something dangerous, something that reeked of scandals.

When Charles had gotten up, all eyes turned in his direction as he sauntered away. Max knew, for he had looked as well.

Monaco GP was over, and Max could relax, at least that's what he told himself. The world had other plans for him, how had Max never realised how small Monaco really was. That Damned beauty seemed to show up everywhere, at the coffee shop, when he was on a run, even at the paddle club.

Had Charles always been around?

Except, each time he saw the Monégasque a longing feeling spread through his chest, it was followed by the reminder, Charles was always looking at someone else. Max doesn't think he saw the same person twice with an arm around Charles.

Max wondered briefly, in a moment of weakness, and post nut clarity, would the price be worth the feeling of his hands on Charles waist. Then he had chased the thought away, with the unnessecary paperwork, and NDA's and besides. Pierre had said to not be stupid. Pierre - who probably cheered every time Max made a slight mistake - had warned him.

Charles knew his effect on others, he was fully aware of each set of eyes that followed him. Nothing thrilled him more than walking through the street, being someone's accessory, and everyone appreciating him. Charles had quickly found himself enjoying a specific pair of eyes, they belonged to a certain Dutchman. Someone Charles would never had imaged being able to get with a few years ago. But that had been when Charles was younger, and now, he had honed his skills well enough.

He knew that it was only about time before Max Verstappen would break.

Max will sometimes see Charles hanging around the paddock during the European stint of races. He had convinced himself that he had become immune to the magnetic pull of the charming Monegasque. But it was quite a shock when - after having made the long journey to Suzuka - he sees the familiar perfectly messy hair.

More somber than he had ever seen Charles before. The beauty had traded in his typical Ferrari red for AlphaTauri white and navy, and a guest pass declaring him “Guest of Pierre Gasly.” Then he had joined Pierre on a track walk.

Max had watched as Pierre and his trainer continued making their way around the Suzuka Circuit even as Charles wandered towards the run-off area on the outside of the Dunlop Curve. And then Max watched as the normally composed and aloof man fell to his knees.

Max looked around. No one else seemed surprised to see the Monegasque’s body shaking as he sobbed on the gravel. Max had spotted Daniel across the track with his own trainer and nudged his way over to the Australian.

“What’s up with him?”

"Charles Leclerc?" Daniel questioned, "You don't know? He's Jules- was Jules god son."

"Oh," Is all Max said, he didn't know what else he should have said.

And Max felt so stupid, how hadn't he made the connection before?

No wonder no one else had seemed surprised, that Charles was constantly hanging around the paddock, wearing Red when his friend was in white and blue.

No wonder that in addition to being especially close with Pierre, the older drivers seem to have a bit of a soft spot for him. He probably should have realised there was more going on after hearing someone mention Pierre and Charles grew up together.

They'd all seen that the sport can take and take and take - the sobbing man of front of him was proof enough of that.

Max had barely realised, he was standing in front Charles before the words. "It sucks." Had rushed out of his mouth, and god, the other man snorts. Too taken aback with what Max just said, to have realised he stopped crying.

He looked up at Max, and a brief thought barrels through his mind. Fuck Charles looks good on his knees. But then Max reminded himself that that was probably pretty fucking inapproiate. Instead he reached a hand out, a sort of apology, but definitely an attempt to help to other to forget what Max had just said.

"Thank you." Charles smiled at him, the tears were still fresh on his chins, but Max could breathe a bit lighter when his hand clasped with Charles. He rest his other hand on Charle's back, as he wobbled for a few moments. Before Max realised where they were, retracting his hand to his side, far too fast, far too uncomfortable.

"Thank you." Charles repeated, letting go of Max's other hand. Max made an attempt to not show the disappointment on his face, the way the Monegasque smiled at him, told him he had failed. And Max didn't mind loosing that much when Charles looked at him like that.

With a few weeks in the back mirror, and some alcohol in their bodies. Charles had found himself with Max in the driver's penthouse apartment.

Max's lips were moving against his own, but then Max spoke, and Charles just wanted him to shut up. That's why he kissed him to begin with.

"What's your price?"

Charles froze for a moment, before returning to running his fingers over Max's sides.

"Your guilt will tell you tomorrow." He murmured back against Max's lips, so Max was aware of how Charles worked, and for some reason, it hurt.

Charles had never been paid directly, never a predetermined amount, it was all in hush money and gifts, places he had been taken and shown off, the clothes on his body, the drinks in his hands, the jewellery around his neck and fingers. Pierre had once called him a prisoner in golden chains, and Charles had told him he was full of shit.

But then Max cooked him breakfast.

This was not part of the deal, this was not part of anything. This was not how this was supposed to go. Max was supposed to tell him it was a mistake, and pay off Charles to keep quiet. Not cook him breakfast.

"Why- why are you-" His voice failed him, the Monégasque known for his smooth tongue, and tempting words, cannot speak. His greatest weapon had been lowered by a man in a silly apron.

"I don't regret anything."

Charles had been gifted jewels by princes and dukes and lords. He had been gifted Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Bugattis by billionaires. He had even been gifted a yacht by a sheikh once (long story). But this was the first time that he had been made to feel human after. That someone had gifted him the feeling of being wanted for more than his body. And now he feels like crying at the sight of slightly charred toast and scrambled eggs.

Max seemed to panic at the distress Charles was feeling. Unable to understand what was going on, not that Charles blamed him at all.

"I'm so sorry," Max had rushed out an apology at the first sight of potential tears, "are you vegan? Celiac? Fuck I should have asked, I have celery! Do you want celery?"

Charles had laughed at that, tears in his eyes at the sight of the formula 1 world champion reduced to panic because someone like Charles might not like his breakfast.

"I fucking hate celery," Charles had told Max, feeling a lot better, despite the Dutchman's confusion and seemingly oblivion to all the feelings that had been cruising through Charles.

Then one of Max's cats had jumped on the counter and tried to kidnap Charles's toast, and Max had set chase after the cat, and Charles had found himself thinking.

I could get used to this.

#lestappen #max verstappen #Charles leclerc #f1 #Fic #Delia brainrots

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zzoguri · 4 months

Text

the perfect pair ➵ masterlist

esports player!kim sunwoo x esports player!reader

being a woman in the esports league is hard, but dealing with cocky kim sunwoo is unmatched. with the valorant champions tour about to commence, you two are forced to team up to retrieve the trophy. what will be tested—team morale or your patience around sunwoo?

general genre/warnings ➵ enemies to lovers, afab reader (they/them pronouns), slow burn, slight angst, crack, fake relationships (you two pretend to be friends) sexual tension, smut aka porn with plot (just know sunwoo whines), esports team au specifically during valorant champions tour, misogynistic & sexist remarks and behaviors, drinking, pet names, bets are made, a lot of gamer lingo, one bed trope™, also probably wrong format and flow of vct but who gaf!

word count ➵ currently 10.5k words, expected to be 20-40k (sorry i cant help it + vct is pretty long)

playlist ➵ yuck by charli xcx // stop talking by day6 // constant repeat by charli xcx // happier than ever by billie eilish // take a hint by victoria justice & elizabeth gillies // jealous by nick jonas // useless by omar apollo // somebody else by the 1975 // and july by dean fy. heize // talk by beabadoobee // teeth by 5sos // motive by ariana grande ft. doja cat // i wanna be your slave by måneskin // cologne by beabadoobee // a little death by the neighbourhood // the perfect pair by beabadoobee // babydoll by dominic fike // bet u wanna by sabrina carpenter// not in the same way by 5sos // just friends by keshi // sugar by men i trust // disaster by conan grey // shouldn’t couldn’t wouldn’t by niki // it’s you by zayn // die for you by the weeknd ft. ariana grande // flash forward by le sserafim // plot twist by niki

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @tbzhub @stealanity @wooluv09 @deobi0412 @untilsunset @hiefisch @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @wonuroyal @sunkitti

a/n ➵ i made this masterlist post because i dont think tumblr will be able to handle all the parts i need to pump out :’) my headcanon of sunwoo being a shit gamer will forever live, but i’ll make an exception for this story <3 major shoutout to @shegotthewoobies for guiding me throughout the process <3 lots of love always to my val duo for life! do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

guides

➵ the guide: “welcome to valorant.”

your official guide to “the perfect pair” universe, from gaming lingo all the way to vct timeline

➵ the players: “wáchale güey, my crew is coming through.”

your official guide to the main characters of “the perfect pair” universe

official parts

➵ one: “ew, is that sunwoo over there? 저리 꺼져.”

➵ two: “okay kids, we’ve got company. pretend you all get along.”

➵ three: “sunwoo, we are the perfect pair.”

extras/drabbles

number and names of chapters are subject to change!

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #works of moni #kim sunwoo #the boyz #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo fluff #kim sunwoo smut #the boyz imagines #fic: the perfect pair

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okchijt · 6 months

Note

Hi! I'd like to request the legion aka frank yandere alphabet please! thank you 😘

Author's Note: The Halloween event is making me play even more unhealthy amounts of DBD so you know I just gotta do my boy Frank! I'm super excited for this one, especially since it's a yandere and an alphabet and this guy doesn't get much of either so I'm more than happy to provide! Definitely took some inspo from @yanderes-galore for this one so you must check them out if you're a lover of yandere content cause that's where you get the best kind of it! So do it NOW! And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!❤

Possible Trigger Warnings: Some minimal NSFW that is only mostly mentioned a few times with no explicit detail.

Frank Morrison -> Yandere Alphabet

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Frank is a possessive individual, he makes sure you and everyone around him knows it. The same can be said with the way he shows his affection for you. At the end of the day, Frank is still human and even though he feels the need to fool himself and the others around him that he's a cold-hearted killer, he still craves your human touch. That being said he's not sweet or gentle with his affections for you, when he feels threatened, feels the need to remind you of your place or it's just a matter of his human desires he does possess a strong hold on you. Frank likes to hold you by the waist or put his arm around your shoulder, both methods effectively trapping you in place of no escape as he holds you with a deathly grip. Frank doesn't aim to provide you with physical love but to scare you with it into submission. But at the same time he'd rather die than admit that sometimes he just seeks to have you held against him out of pure desire, because, in the end, it does feel nice to be reminded of that human feeling.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Incredibly messy. He's a killer that thinks of himself as hot shit and will make sure to show that just by the way he murders your teammates. Outside of the realm he only has one kill count and that was enough for him to consider himself the best killer out there. It makes his blood boil to see your fellow teammates touch you and spend time with you when it should be him and he'll make sure they'll fear his wrath. Frank doesn't mind being covered in other's blood, he even sees it as some sort of trophy to be prideful about because he was the one that made them bleed. Escpesicailly if the person stood in their way to get to you, Frank will make sure they will have a painful end that he'll later proudly and mockingly tell you about as if expecting some sort of prize from the effort he went through just to have you with him alone.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Kind of yeah. He finds mocking you entertaining in a way, he likes to make you feel powerless against him, boosting his ego in the process. He likes to get you when you're at your lowest so he can guide you through mocking and insults to come fully undone for him, vulnerable enough for you to feel too weak to fight against him as he forces his so-called love on you. Though most of the time Frank would only do it if he's in a bad mood himself because a match went poorly or you're just being "uncooperative" with his affections for you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Absolutely he would. He forces his affection on you and sometimes forces you to reciprocate with threats of various kinds. At the end of the day, Frank is still a teen whose hormones still go off for him, and even though killing satisfies that side of him most of the time, he can't help himself when he's around you sometimes. He'd never outwardly go that far with you if you don't want to, he doesn't want to ruin all of his chances of you eventually falling for him for whatever reason. But do expect some nonconsensual touching here and there, like I said, he'd never go that far with you if you don't allow it, but he's not that good of a soul to limit himself that much for you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He'd never do that. Frank doesn’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable to you, himself, his crew, or anyone else around him. He has a "reputation" to uphold after all and even though his insecurities get to him most of the time, he'd rather die than let you even witness or hear any of it. Not even as pretend to make you feel sympathy for him, the thought of being this exposed to you on whatever scale disgusts him and he will never resolve to it to trick you into having you. Not for your good, but for his.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused, but annoyed. Doesn't matter how much of a capable survivor you are, the Entity will make sure Frank will have an upper hand compared to you in the physical department. He likes the way you try to wiggle free against him or just you trying to fight back in general, he finds it funny because he knows no matter what you do there is no escape from him. Though Frank will get progressively more annoyed the longer you keep going, especially if there are flashlights/firecrackers involved. And because of that at some point, it stops being an entertaining game of cat and mouse and instead a serious threat of finally catching you with no escape.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Kinda, but only when he's 100% sure he'll catch you at the end of the trail or just in general. When things go Frank's way during trials, he'll take his sweet time getting you. He'll pretend to have not seen you hide inside that locker or let you wiggle off him and get away as he pretends he didn't see where you went. Instead, all his attention goes to your teammates as he focuses on taking them out, leaving you for dessert. It's just so amusing to him to see you try so hard knowing that he'll get you by the end and have his fun with you before either killing you or letting you go. On the other hand, if Frank gets absolutely destroyed during the trial his anger will blind him to only focusing on not letting you escape. At this point he has tunnel vision solely on you and will ignore everything else, just wanting to make sure to get you at the end as he lets all your teammates run past him to escape through the gate as he pins you down and prepares to let out all his frustrations on you before either taking mocking pity on you and letting you go or just outright killing you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being sacrificed the first time and all the other times depending on his mood it can get more brutal than it should. All the while he may just mock you for your existence alone and the things you make him feel as he murders you mercilessly for daring to fight back against him and not just submit. As well as mentioned before some nonconsensual touching, Frank will only stop the minute he knows he's not going to hold back if he lets himself go any further.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

There really isn't a future to think of when you're stuck in the Enity's realm, there is no personal purpose, growth or change you can make. So all Frank needs is what's already in front of him, you and the thrills you both provide each other whether you want to or not. But if Frank could wish for something to change in the future is for you to finally submit to him fully.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Extremely. He gets so jealous over your teammates being able to spend every waking moment of their pathetic existence with you instead of him. Just for that, he makes sure that if you're in a trial all of your teammates suffer twice as much. He wants to make sure they feel the jealousy and rage they make him put up with because of the privilege of them having you 24/7 and not him. Sometimes Frank gets more into it than he should and throws what's left of his jealousy onto you, accusing you of probably fooling around behind his back with your stupid teammates. Whether that is true or not Frank proceeds to give you mixed signals during his outburst as he continues to accuse you of being disloyal as he puts his arms around you as an act of affection. Lavishing in your touch as he reminds you and himself with his actions who you belong to as he spews venom at you through his gritted teeth.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Like he's better than you and you're his prey that he took pity on. You should be thankful he loves so just accept your role in this ''relationship'' and submit. Frank treats you as if you are inferior to him, but at the same time, he thinks you're so much better than everyone else. Frank not only tries to manipulate you but himself as well. He wants to make you feel powerless when with him, he likes to put you down, making him feel better for having does feelings for you. Frank hates that he feels such strong feelings for you, how can someone such as himself feel so drawn to a stupid survivor of all people? The only way he can excuse such feelings is by pity, a mocking kind. But deep down he knows it's not it, it's genuine from his end, but he will never admit to it to anyone especially not himself. So instead he hides behind the fact he's the hunter and you're the prey and abuses it so that the truth will never come out.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Through a trial of course. Doesn't matter if it's your first trial or one of the many ones you've had before, you've officially captured his attention. Whether it was because of the lovely reactions you gave him or the way you stuck with your team and had their back, doesn't matter, Frank is hooked from here on out and he can't wait to play with you some more when you meet again next trial. Approaching you though? Easy, just kill everyone so there's only you two left, that's plenty of time to begin a relationship and get to know each other, don't you think?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Just a bit, yes. Frank's just as cruel to you as he is to everyone else and he thinks he's better than you, but he does have that soft spot only for you at times. Sometimes he does genuinely want to show his affection for you, with no cruelty added to it. As much of a sadistic jerk he is, Frank does sometimes just want to spend time with you like lovers do, it's rare but it does happen especially when he's in a good mood. Otherwise don't expect much love and care 90% of the time that is purely genuine.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Depending on what you do, the more painful the punishment. If you misbehave or disobey him in more ways than one, expect to be cut in various ways both shallow and deep depending on how far you push it. But the worst you can get is straight-up murder, but in the realm that's nothing new, so Frank makes sure to make your deaths more painful than they should. He makes them last longer, makes them more gruesome and he does all of this while making sure to keep you alive the whole time so you can feel the utmost pain. All of this is to make sure you remember to stay in line next time.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As if you have any once you enter the Entity's realm. Frank takes anything he can get from you. He's too selfish to allow you to be with other people, especially the ones he views as under him, which is everyone but himself. Whenever you're forced to be in his presence, he will give you no free will. Frank takes away your decision-making and takes charge of anything of yours he can get, no matter how little the extent of it is.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Only when he's alone with you. At the beginning of the trial, there is no patience in him if things don't go his way. Frank will make sure to get through the trial as fast as possible, eliminating everyone until it's just you two left. His kills are sloppy and quick, wasting no time in finally getting you all to himself. When it eventually gets to that point he takes his sweet time with you, toying with you as you receive his unwanted affections. Wanting to draw out as much time as he can get with you, at that point he's just happy to have you all to himself again so he's patient from that point onward.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

None of these possibilities will ever come true in the Entity's realm. There are no buts or ifs, you are stuck in here with him forever. Therefore there would never be a scenario where Frank would have to deal with the fact you're not here with him anymore because that day will never come.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Why would he? Frank has no sympathy left in him at this point, not even his soft spot for you will change the way he feels nothing but pleasure in having you all to himself. So the answer is an ultimate no for both.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

A mix of curiosity and his background. It's curiosity that leads Frank to commit his first murder as well as enter the realm. He's never been a good person before the realm as well. What made Frank this infatuated with you though? The answer is even a mystery to him.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Depends on the severity of your outburst and how long it lasts. If it's small or it doesn't last long then he'll find the situation amusing by teasing you. He basically doesn't take you seriously and will mockingly "try" to calm you down, effectively making the situation worse by making fun of you because he thinks it's cute to see you this vulnerable. But once you get even more upset, making the outburst an actual outburst Frank begins to get annoyed and even kind of panic. At that point, it's less funny to him and his mocking turns into actual insults with hints of actual concern that aim to fully calm you down. The longer you go on the more aggressive Frank is with his words and may even start being physical with you just to make you stop. Depending on how you react he will force you to get a hold of yourself or he just leaves you be for some hours so you both can calm down.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Frank's more than willing to hurt you. Both because it's just the reality you two live in now and it's essentially his "job" to hunt you down and make you weak before him both mentally and physically.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Maybe manipulation? Just mentioning that his crew must think less of him because he's actively seeking you out, that he's so obsessed with you. Just anything that could indicate him being weak or vulnerable makes his blood boil, mainly because he knows it's true. No matter how Frank views himself, there is a part of him that hates himself and you for making him so soft to the point where his crew can see it. But would it be enough to escape? No. You can point out the obvious to him and that'll only make him let out his frustrations on you or his crew if they dare say a word about it.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Absolutely. It's Frank's "job" so it's basically a given you'll either get slashed a few times before he lets you go or just moris you instead.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

The only person Frank will worship is himself. Admittedly you're the most important person to him outside of himself and his crew but he still views himself above you so there is no need for worship. There is no need to win you over, you have no choice after all. Frank will court you however he likes and you can hate it and him as much as you want but you'll have no choice but to just deal with it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few trials at most. Frank needed to be 100% sure about you and his feelings for you before he became outright open with them. He needed to get to know you a little bit better before officially making you his, and by that I mean Frank relishing in the sweet reactions and screams you gave him. And maybe just the way you went about when you didn't know he was there and the way you worked with your team.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

The fact you're in a forced relationship with a killer that hurts/kills you and your teammates on the regular will definitely do more damage to you than if he was just a killer with no relations to you. That being said Frank wouldn't want to break you on purpose, he likes you the way you are because you haven't completely lost it yet and you satisfy his sadistic and obsessive needs. So ideally Frank wouldn't want to break you knowingly, but there would be a bigger possibility that he would indeed break you at some point.

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verbenaa · 3 months

Text

venus in furs

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: He’s always imagined you like this in his dreams, he thinks. Naked, dressed in rubies as red as the wine in your silver chalice, blood like pomegranate juice dripping from your lips, staining your mouth to match the red of your blood that colors his own.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+ only

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.1k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Ascended Astarion, dom Astarion, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, blowjobs, slight exhibitionism, slight degradation, guided masturbation, vaginal sex

𝑎/𝑛: back with another one, friends. I didn't ever think I would really write ascended Astarion, but what can I say?? I hope you all like this one, I definitely enjoyed writing it and getting out of my comfort zone a little bit! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading!

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

The air of the palace is cold against your exposed skin as you walk through the halls you now own, wearing nothing but an ermine cloak and glittering jewels, your stride confident amidst the darkened hallways.

These halls were once filled with the smell of decay and the leftover dust of ages past, a distasteful reminder of the horrors that had occurred here over centuries. You had made sure upon Astarion’s ascension to rip out as much of the place as you could, making decisions with that of an aesthete’s touch, ideals of what a grand palace should look like for your lover.

Dull red carpets were hastily replaced with elegant emerald green, every oppressive drapery torn away from their rods and transformed instead into flowing brocaded silks, old and rotted furniture sent to be thrown into the river or to burn, it mattered not which end it met. Such matters of what happened to the furniture were beneath you.

You had much loftier concerns to deal with, now.

After all, what use was being His Dark Consort, if not to wile away your now infinite hours doing whatever you so wished, consequences be damned?

You stride towards the ballroom where two thrones of gleaming gold sit side by side on a newly raised dais, not caring whether the servants you passed noticed your state of dishabille. You knew they would turn their eyes from you, they would never dare to look upon you in such a way without his express permission.

At last, you make your way to your destination; chandeliers dimly lit with tapers of dripping wax hang from the ceiling, illuminating the richly woven tapestries decorating the walls. It was a shame you still couldn’t manage to get all of the blood stains out of the floorboards from the battle with those dreadful wolves, but you supposed there were worse trophies than those of your victories. You were content to let them serve as a reminder to all those who entered this place of who it was that had eventually won the battle.

A quick step up onto the dais has you exactly where you want to be, your eyes flitting between the twin thrones, resplendent with whorls of gold crafted into scenes of animals at hunt, the seats plush with dark velvet. With naught but a minute glance towards your own throne, you instead bring your gaze upon that of Astarion’s.

You settle into your lover’s throne and arrange your cloak around you, the blood red of the velvet sliding against your curves as you move to recline, the contrast stark against the milky fur of the oversized collar, dark dots smattered across the expanse of alabaster like drops of ink against a page.

The jewels around your neck and in your ears shift with every movement of your body, the pear-shaped ruby of your necklace—practically the size of your palm—encrusted with crystal clear diamonds heavy as it rests upon your collarbone.

You wait for Astarion to find you, just like this, your body on display for him in the way you know he so likes. Soft curls of anticipation settle deep within your stomach, embers of pleasure eager to transform into a wildfire.

Astarion, thankfully, does not keep you waiting long, his muted footfalls upon the covered floors catch upon your ears soon after taking your desired place. The knowledge he is finally here and so close has you sitting up slightly straighter.

You know he will be able smell the scent of you, the heady aroma of your slow growing excitement will lead him right to where you lay in wait for him. You arrange yourself for one moment more on the throne, a siren’s smile on your face as you await the presence of your lover.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The last thing Astarion expects to see when he walks into the ballroom is you, lounging indolently on his throne of all places, wearing nothing but the dark red of an ermine cloak and dripping in jewels.

He has to give you credit, he supposes; when he walked in from the city after a series of decidedly droll meetings with decidedly useless patriars, finding you waiting for him like a little treat dying to be tasted did not make his list.

How very lucky you are, it seems, that when he scented your arousal on the stairs he decided instead to investigate rather than moving on to whatever work awaits him in his office.

You had always liked playing these kinds of games, your subtle machinations something he was always happy to bear witness to with a smile on his face.

His perfect, pretty Dark Consort and her quaint little schemes.

“And what do we have here?” Astarion arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you.

His eyes trace your frame, from the white and black of the fur trim that rests against your naked flesh, hiding your peaked nipples from sight as your crossed legs obscure the telltale wetness he knows is forming between your thighs.

You flutter your lashes prettily at his perusal of your body, a coquettish tilt of your head at his interest.

With predatory intent, Astarion makes a slow circle around his throne with inhuman grace, his eyes never leaving you. You feel the intensity of his gaze against your skin, your hair, your lips—every part of you on display for him and him only.

He’s always imagined you like this in his dreams, he thinks. Naked, dressed in rubies as red as the wine in your silver chalice, blood like pomegranate juice dripping from your lips, staining your mouth to match the red of your blood that colors his own.

He completes his circle and his eyes meet your own, his glowing claret gaze darkening and you know with certainty that he is pleased at your offering for him.

“Won’t you bend the knee for me, my Lord?” You feign innocence in your question, eyes roving greedily over his clothed body, taking in the fine tailoring of his intricately embroidered velvet doublet, the skin-tight fit of the finest leather pants highlighting the beginnings of his erection.

“Is that what you would like, dearest?” His eyes bore into your own, a mocking smile alighting his plush lips at such a request.

“It’s the least you can do, don’t you think? To be greeted with such a gift like myself?” Your thighs open for him as you recline further into the velvet, your wetness glistening in the dim candlelight.

“How presumptuous of you, my sweet Consort.” despite his words, a spike of heat works its way through your body at the sight of his knees moving smoothly to the floor in front of the throne you have now made your own.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips absentmindedly as he comes to settle his chest between your open thighs, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

Astarion doesn’t miss the sight of your tongue brushing against your lips, and he can’t help but think of other things that your mouth is capable of. He runs his hands up and down the outside of your thighs with surprising delicacy as his eyes move to your dewy center, now exposed to him.

“I do hope you haven’t been waiting long, pet.” His hands make their way to your waist, thumbs brushing teasing patterns against your skin as he leans in to press a kiss to the softness of your lower belly, breath catching in your throat at the closeness of his lips.

You have but a moment to relish the feeling, the hands at your waist moving to yank you out of the throne upon which you sit. You quickly find yourself chest to chest with your lover, your exposed center pressing against the growing hardness still hidden behind tied leather for mere seconds before your world is turned once more; Astarion moving you onto your knees as you now face the seat of the throne you had just occupied, a spot of your own wetness darkening the velvet cushion as your ribcage presses hard against the golden frame of the throne.

A hand makes its way from your waist to clasp against your throat, the feeling of his fingers pressing in on your windpipe exquisite.

“Because you’ll have to wait a little longer, I’m afraid.” His words fall hot against your ear as he speaks, lips brushing against the tender skin as your face falls at the thought of being denied what you had been so sure he would give you, a small noise of discontent falling from your rouged lips.

You feel the hand still resting on your waist move up to unclasp the fur cloak from your throat, the heavy fabric falling to the floor behind you with a muted thud before Astarion moves to grab and throw it aside. He quickly presses close, eager to replace the lost warmth as his hand makes it way back south, the embroidery of his doublet pressing against your exposed back, every caress of the threads like fire against your skin.

The hand around you neck tightens infinitesimally, the additional pressure drawing a gasp from your lips as his other hand continues making it way lower, sweeping through the curls at the apex of your thighs before coming to cup at your dripping wetness.

“I don’t take orders from you, lover, and it would do for you to remember that.” His fingers slide through your folds, drawing a noise from both of your lips at the feeling.

“Gods, look at you. So desperate already, and I’ve barely touched you.” His words are a whisper against your neck, reverent despite his prior condemnation. Fingers trace at your entrance, their touch light and teasing as he continues his scolding.

“What a little tyrant you’ve become. Daring to sit in my throne and to make such demands of me.” His tone is mocking now as he presses those two fingers at your entrance, pushing in to the knuckle, leaving you no time to acclimate to the fullness. A whine falls from your lips as his fingers move deep, eyes falling shut and head lolling forwards the hand still squeezing lightly at your throat.

Astarion allows the gesture, his hand softening its hold to instead stroke at the graceful column of you neck as your head falls back to rest upon his velvet draped shoulder.

The fingers inside you find that spot deep inside, curling to press into it with relentless intent. Moans fall from your lips as his fingers fuck into your pussy, your wetness aiding their slide in and out of your wanting body.

“Look at how easily you cry for me, my sweet.” His words spur you on, your hips riding his hand as his fingers find their rhythm deep inside you for but a moment before he mercilessly pulls them from of your body.

Astarion’s fingers leave you empty, a whimper filling the air as he drags the hand that had been pleasuring you up your body, leaving a trail of slick across the heated skin of your stomach to the place in between your breasts.

His wet fingers leave your body to hover in front of you, your head coming up off his shoulder.

Astarion’s pulls his fingers apart, shining strings of your arousal clinging between the digits. The sight of it has the both of you entranced as Astarion slowly brings those fingers together again and presses them against your lips.

“Open.” The command is clear in his voice, and you open your mouth without a second thought.

He settles the fingers on your tongue and you obediently close your mouth around them and suck at your own wetness coating the digits.

“Such a good girl, barely having to be told what to do,” His praise is like velvet running across your skin as you hollow your cheeks around the digits in your mouth, your essence heavy on your tongue.

“You taste divine, don’t you think?” You are powerless but to nod in agreement, empty core clenching at the honey dripping from his words.

The taste of yourself in your own mouth like this is downright lewd and you know without a doubt that if the heart that sits in your chest could beat once more that your face would be flushed as red as the roses you now choose to decorate with.

You can feel Astarion’s hardness through his pants, pressing into you from his place behind you, cock twitching with every movement of your tongue. His fingers make their way out of your mouth before reaching down to tweak at a hardened nipple, your saliva coating his digits as they rub circles around the nub.

“Do me a favor, darling, and stay on those knees of yours.” Astarion’s lips brush against the delicate skin of your ear once more, his words a seductive whisper as he rises behind you.

You look over your shoulder as he stands at his full height, your face at eye level with the hard bulge still hidden behind leather. A corner of your mouth tilts upwards as you turn on your knees to face him fully, hands coming up to rest on his upper thighs as you look up into his eyes.

Your fingers rub the leather covering his strong legs, head moving forward to rest lightly against his covered erection.

The sight of you down on your knees is that of sin incarnate, Astarion’s breath hitching slightly before that same wicked smile creeps back onto his features.

“May I, my Lord?” Your fingertips inch upwards with your words, playing with the waistband of his pants.

“It’s the least you can do, don’t you think?” He uses your earlier words against you tauntingly, his haughty smirk deepening at the devilish raise of your brows.

You see fit not to answer him with words, instead letting your hands do the talking as they make their way to the laces covering his erection. With several quick motions of your fingers the laces fall open and you free his aching length, placing a kiss to the tip.

Astarion groans at that first brush of your lips against him, hips jumping at the touch as his cock bobs in response.

You mouth at the crown, reverent brushes of your tongue moving on the soft skin of his shaft have his head falling back with a sigh. Astarion brings his eyes back to your form on the floor beneath him, knees resting on the ground as your nipples pebble in the chilled air, lips and tongue working him with the motions you know he loves.

You lick a stripe up a vein on his cock before taking his heat inside your mouth, cheeks hollowing against him as you suck. The action has him moaning, your lips and tongue moving to work him as you slowly begin to bob your head.

You continue your ministrations, sucking him into your mouth as your hand comes to help you touch what you can��t easily reach with your mouth, pumping him at the base as your tongue caresses the crown of his cock.

The noises Astarion makes is like music to your ears, the sound of his carnal moans only serving to drive you to move your mouth faster and deeper.

“You can take me harder, can’t you?” His words are uncharacteristically breathless as his fingers card through your hair, gathering strands into a makeshift ponytail in his fist as his other hand brushes against the high point of your cheek.

You nod your head as much as you can with your lips wrapped around his cock, humming in confirmation as your eyes look up to meet his own gaze, glassy with lust.

Astarion pumps his hips at your blessing, moving his cock in and out of your mouth with slow motions as your tongue brushes against him. Your lips open wider to accommodate him, hand on his thigh squeezing in encouragement.

Pleasure rushes to your core as Astarion’s hand fists harder in your hair, his hips moving faster now as he sets his pace, your moans around his cock spurring him on as he moves closer to your throat, eyes watering involuntarily with each thrust as he nears the back of your mouth.

He hisses at the pleasure, at the sight of you letting him fuck your mouth however he pleases as your eyes flash upwards to meet his own, the beginnings of tears dusting your lashes as he pushes deeper into your warm mouth.

Few things compare to the knowledge that Astarion is under your control like this, and you know he won’t last long as you breathe in through your nose, relaxing your throat for him to press as deep as he wants with a flutter of your lashes, stray teardrops falling onto your cheeks as you can only imagine the thoughts floating through his pleasure-addled mind.

As Astarion looks down upon your form below him, taking him so very well, he can’t help but think that the deepest and darkest parts of him covet you like this always. Lips wrapped tight around his cock, unable to think of nothing but him as he fucks your mouth, your lips sealed around his cock.

The beautiful blush of your lips, the crystal of your tears, the claret of your blood.

All for him and him only.

He comes on your tongue with the thought, his spend going down your throat in hot, salty spurts. You swallow him greedily, intent on not wasting a drop as the hands in your hair tighten as Astarion’s hips buck into your mouth with abandon as you drink down his seed.

With a sigh the hand in your hair loosens as Astarion comes down from his high, your mouth still moving over his softening cock. You slowly pull off him, tongue licking at him as you go, collecting the remnants of his come off him before you let his length fall from your lips.

With one last swallow, you look up at him from your place on your knees, licking at a stray drop of his come that escapes your mouth. Astarion brushes his thumb against your closed lips, his eyes still hot with lust as your tongue darts out to lick at the fingertip.

With a nod of his head, Astarion gestures to your cloak where it lays long forgotten against the cold floors. With a coy smirk up at him, you bring your hands to the floor and crawl over towards the soft velvet.

Astarion follows your every sway of your body as you move, and when you finally lay yourself down onto the cloak, back resting against the lush material, he follows. He wastes no time to lower himself above you, hovering, as he takes in the vision of you resting beneath him.

His Dark Consort. His blasphemous Queen.

He would do anything for you.

His eyes rove your naked form, burning the memory of the way the deep crimson of the cape highlights the color of your skin, the open yearning in your expression and complete submission to him into his mind to last the entirety of his eternal life.

Astarion finally touches your body, no longer satisfied with a simple gaze, a hand brushing back your hair from your face before making its way down your body. You let your legs fall open for him to continue his exploration, eagerly exposing your wanting center to him as he bends his head down, giving an experimental lick up your slit, collecting your wetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to come, my love?” You nod your head, a whine escaping at the promise in his voice.

“Then I want you to make yourself come while I watch.” He releases your legs, moving to stand before making his way to his throne.

He sits down with the grace of a king, his gaze expectant on your naked body as you part your legs for him once more.

His words are unexpected but you waste no time, not willing to wait lest he decide to abandon your pleasure all together. A hand skates its way down your body, bypassing your aching breasts to go straight to your clit. You rub at your pearl with delicate fingers, your motions second nature as you let yourself fall headfirst into the feeling of pleasure as Astarion watches you from his place on his throne, his cock already hard again.

Your eyes fall shut as you continue your ministrations, head falling to the side as your pleasure drives higher and higher with every motion of your fingers.

“Eyes on me, darling.” His words are hard, the command clear in his voice has your eyes opening fast and landing back on his form.

You watch Astarion where he sits, taking in the sight of him as your fingers continue drawing circles around your clit. He reclines back in his throne, a hand drawing lazy touches up and down his cock as his own eyes are fixated on your fingers at your most intimate area.

With a breath your hand leaves your clit, moving further down to touch at your weeping entrance.

If he wants a show, you will gladly give him one.

Without waiting, you plunge your fingers into yourself, pushing them as deep as you can. Your own are nothing compared to the length and elegance of his own, but they will have to do for now. You fuck yourself on your fingers, quickly adding a third in an attempt to recreate the feeling of Astarion’s own.

Your fingers shine with your wetness, Astarion groaning at the sight of you fucking yourself like this, knowing you won’t last much longer at the rate you are going.

“Slow down, darling,” A smirk plays at his lips as he notes the shaking of your thighs.

“You can’t come until I say so, and I’m not ready for this little performance to be over quite yet.” You whine at his command, but slow your fingers obediently, moving them inside you at a slower pace now.

Your fingers work diligently as your eyes don’t leave Astarion’s from where he sits some feet away. His attention on you only serve to drive you higher, those crimson eyes never leaving you.

Your legs widen so Astarion can better see your motions as your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, fingers still moving in an easy rhythm that drives your higher and higher with every pass.

You know that he loves to see and watch you like this, and there is nothing you love more than leaning into that yearning, eager to let his dominance wash over you.

“A-Astarion, I can’t hold off much longer.” It takes effort to keep your eyes on him, trying to push off your orgasm as long as possible, thighs shaking once more with impending release.

“Let go, my love.” His permission feels like a balm, hand at your chest coming down to rub at your clit as the fingers inside you speed up their thrusts, intent to bring yourself to orgasm as fast as you can get there.

You had waited so long to finally be allowed to come, to get the pleasure you desired and deserved, and while you wish that it was Astarion’s hands instead of your own, you supposed beggars could not be choosers.

Your orgasm hits, limbs seizing and hips bucking against your fingers, head thrown back as a moan leaves your painted lips, back bowing with pleasure.

“Beautiful.” Astarion murmurs the words low, barely audible over your own moans as you come on your fingers, orgasm washing over you as you writhe on the floor in front of him.

Your body relaxes in the wake of your release, limbs loose against the cloak on the floor. You ease your fingers out of yourself with a slight wince, the digits soaked with your own come. You lay there for a moment, your senses coming back to you as your eyes finally open and glance back at your lover.

“Come to me.” His words are expectant, and you force yourself to rise despite the pleasant exhaustion weighing down your limbs, walking to the throne and standing in between his knees as he spreads them to make room for you.

Astarion’s hand reaches out to grab your wrist, bringing the fingers that had filled your core to his own mouth before he wraps his mouth around them.

He licks at your come, tongue sliding against your fingers in a bid to collect all of your spend, intent on letting none go to waste. The feeling of his tongue on your fingers drives a wedge of heat right back to the spot between your legs, Astarion’s eyes never leaving your face as his tongue glides up and down your fingertips.

With one last motion, he sucks hard on your fingers before pulling his mouth away from your hand.

“Sit.” The command is simple as his hands grab at your waist, pulling you to him.

Your knees land on either side of his hips, his cock brushing up against your empty core as Astarion’s lips finds your own.

His kiss is demanding, passion and control combined into a fiery thing that you answer with the same emotion, mouth opening to his tongue as it sweeps inside to taste.

You’re breathless when Astarion breaks this kiss, his lips moving to press kisses against your jaw.

“Turn around and face the doors, darling.” His smile is absolutely deviant as you obey his words without a second thought, excitement building at whatever he has in store for you.

Your body twists over his own, settling onto his lap as your bare back rests against his velvet doublet. His length presses against your slit like this, your come slicking the shaft. Astarion’s hands caress the curve of your waist as you lean back into him, your head turning to brush your lips over the skin of his neck in a light kiss.

The hands on your waist move further down your sides and over your legs, stopping at your knees to grip underneath each, lifting them up and over the armrests of the throne. Your breath catches in your throat at the slight burn in your thighs as your legs stretch open, every inch of your aching cunt on full display.

He bares you entirely like this, anyone who dares to walk by the open doors and look inside would see every bit of you. It’s a small blessing, you think, that any servants have long made themselves scarce once they realized the debauchery taking place.

“Such a good girl you are, darling, keeping yourself open for me like this.” The hands holding your legs move up to stroke at your thighs, before one wanders higher towards your center. Astarion drags his fingers through your wetness, fingers spreading your folds and collecting the wetness on his fingertips as he circles your clit.

His lips find the tender skin behind your ear at the moment two fingers push inside you, sliding in knuckle deep before pulling back out again.

“You put on such a good show for me, darling. I think you deserve a reward.” He kisses your neck, those fingers pushing in once more to massage at your inner walls.

Astarion is intent on building you back up to a frenzy, his years of knowledge of your body to press and rub against everywhere he knows will only bring you higher.

He will always worship you, you who helped him rise to this new height, assisting so selflessly in handing him such power. It was the least he could do, to keep and covet you so tightly you could never want or dream of anything less than an eternity by his side.

The old Astarion could never care for you the way he does now, could never gift you such unimaginable riches—gowns of the finest silks and tulles, an endless supply of silvers and golds, jewels of unbelievable value.

No, he couldn’t offer you even a fraction of what he can now. His poor excuse for companionship was all that he had to offer you back then.

You deserved better, and better was what he would give you.

“You’re a vision like this, darling, held open for me while I make you come.” He mouths at the skin of your neck, never slowing in his movements.

His fingers hook inside of you, pressing against your g-spot with relentless efficiency, your cries spurring on his motions. You can hear the sounds of your wetness with his every motion, can feel yourself dripping onto the soft leather of his covered thighs beneath you.

Your orgasm hits you without warning, that familiar warmth coursing through your veins Astarion’s fingers still press on the softness of your walls as your cunt constricts around them. You writhe in his lap, hips riding his hand as he presses kisses to your neck as his fingers continue their work. You whine at the sensations, body moving closer towards overstimulation after reaching your peak twice in such a short time.

Astarion grants you a moment to recover as his fingers slide out of you, hands instead moving to bring your legs down from their place over the chair as you pant listlessly against his chest, body still shaking from the pleasure he had given you.

“Please, fuck me.” Your words carry a certain softness in their desperation that has Astarion’s cock bobbing against your entrance once more as you move onto your knees above him, looking back over your shoulder to see him grabbing his cock as he positions it at your entrance.

You lower down eagerly to take him inside you in a smooth glide, ignoring the slight twinge of overstimulation as you press all the way down until your hips meet, a hiss leaving his mouth at the feeling of your warmth finally wrapped around him.

You moans fill the air together, Astarion’s hands finding your waist as you glide yourself up and down his cock, taking him deep with every motion downwards, hips grinding into his own when he bottoms out. His lips caress the skin of your spine and neck, one hand on your hip helping you move up and down him, the other buried in your hair, keeping it out of the way of his roaming lips.

Astarion lets you move above him at your own pace, moaning into your skin as you work yourself on him, your hips undulating above him in a seductive dance as you take him deep on every slide down before gliding back up, barely keeping the head of him inside before you begin again.

Astarion’s grip on your hip tightens as he begins to guide you in harder motions that have you picking up speed, his fingers digging into your skin as the lips on your neck switch from kisses to light nips of his fangs.

“Harder, Astarion.” Your words come out on uneven breaths as he thrusts deep, cries of pleasure falling from you open lips as he takes control.

“Off, darling.” He pants, other hand moving to join the one at your hip as he moves you off his cock, your wetness coating it.

On unsteady legs you move to stand by the throne as Astarion gets up behind you, his hands never leaving your body as he quickly directs you back. Your knees touch soft velvet as you move to kneel on the seat, hands grasping for purchase on the golden whorls as Astarion sheathes himself back inside you, hips sliding home on the first thrust.

The carved gold bites into your palms as you hold on, legs widening for him to fuck you harder as his hands find their way to hold onto your hips, pulling your body back against his own as he fucks you with little delicacy.

Gone is the easy, sensuous pace of earlier, replaced by your mutual desperation for something harder. His cock is impossibly deep like this, hitting what feels like every nerve ending inside you with the pump of his hips.

A hand grips your hair and pulls your head back roughly as his teeth nip at your earlobe.

“Is this what you wished for, my dear?” He whispers the words, hips snapping into yours. “To be fucked like a whore? On my throne, like this?”

You moan at his words, pussy clenching hard on his cock as his skin slaps into your own, the sound echoing against the elegantly carved wood ceiling.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He chuckles into your ear as you gasp at a particularly sharp thrust, his mouth licking a stripe up your neck.

You deign not to answer him, knowing your body tells him everything he needs to know about that particular line of questioning.

His cock hits a particularly deep spot inside you, and you cry out at the sensation, pain and pleasure mixing headily in your veins. Your hands clutch harder onto the throne under you in an attempt to center yourself, efforts in vain as Astarion continues to fuck into that same spot near your cervix.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him so deep, wanton moans falling from your lips with abandon as pleasure streaks through body, burning brighter than the sun.

“Will you bleed for me, sweet thing?” The words aren’t quite a question, more hypothetical in nature. You know he will take, and you are always willing to give to him, even after all these years. You nod your head regardless, as best you can with Astarion’s fingers still gripping in your hair, never mind his hard thrusts in and out of your body.

His lips fall against your neck, nose nudging against the skin there as his breath is hot where his lips caress the skin behind your ear. The hand in your hair loosens, allowing you to move your head further to side, baring more skin to his searching mouth in invitation.

He bites down, the fragile skin of your neck breaking like it has a thousand times over, your blood dripping down in rivulets as Astarion drinks you in. Your blood stains the diamonds and rubies around your neck, facets dancing with every push of Astarion’s hips against your own in the dim light.

Every suck of Astarion’s mouth against your neck brings you closer, cries falling as you both soar higher and higher towards your peak. His hips continue to move, never slowing in their rhythm as he drinks, blood continuing to drip down over the peak of your breasts before falling onto the gilded throne beneath you.

All it takes is a few more thrusts from Astarion before you come apart, body bucking against his own as he continues to suck at the flesh of your neck, every pull from his mouth bringing the pleasure higher as you crest wave after wave of our climax, white hot heat rushing over your senses. He works you through your orgasm, never slowing his pace as he fucks you through the height of it, allowing you to luxuriate in the euphoria.

Astarion follows shortly after you, the feeling of your cunt clenching hard against his own heat divine as he loses the final threads of his control. His hips press tight against your own as he empties himself inside of you with unrestrained moans as he extricates his fangs from your neck to press his brow against your shoulder, tongue licking at the spilled blood that runs down your body.

Astarion stays inside you, his cock softening as his come leaks from your joined bodies down onto the skin of your thighs, pressing kisses to your shoulder as your breathing slowly evens out.

Finally he pulls himself from your center, helping you off the throne as he bends down to grab your discarded cape from the floor nearby. He settles it back around your shoulders as you lean against him, looking up into his eyes.

“What ever are we to do with you, darling?” He sighs the words in mock distress, a finger coming to lift your chin up towards him as he smirks.

“I suppose maybe I need to be better disciplined?” Your smile answers his own, voice coy as you toy with a button on his doublet.

“Then lead the way, pet, there’s still much I can teach you.” Your answering smirk is all the permission required as Astarion leads you to the bedroom, intent to make good on his promise before the night is done.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x reader #ascended astarion x tav #my writing

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raccoonsrummagerostrum · 8 months

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Meeting the Clan

Part 3

Yautja x Reader

Word count: >1k

Warnings: loud noises, fighting, eating, drinking, nausea, light gore, alien blood, slightly drunk reader, short of breath reader

Summary: your lover's clan invites you to dinner and it just keep getting worse

A/N: sorry I've been gone for so long, all my creativity was put into another project. I've got a lot of wips and a few requests/asks to get too, so look forward to more writing comming soon ❤

Part 1 & Part 2

This was not anything like meeting the parents. Even in all the sitcoms and bad reality tv that you had watched, you had never seen anything go so wrong. As the two faced off with each other Amedha, your lover's worst rival, still took the time to look over at you and whistle. Your lover lunged and dug their mandibles into his throat. Amedha responded by digging his claws deep into your lover's side, causing them to scream in pain, and thus release their rivals' neck. You knew better than to get in between them, but you couldn’t just let your lover get beat up like this.

Amedha looked over to you again and winked. The food you had just eaten bubbled up in your throat, and you couldn't stop the disgusted expression from spreading across your face. However, this gave your lover the perfect opening to give their rival a hard right hook to the jaw. The crack of bone rang out around the room. They quickly gained the upper hand maneuvering to hold their rival down, holding his face against the floor. Amedha scoffed, earning a loud deep and angry growl from your love. They pulled his arm back until there was a sharp snap and a roar. You quickly shielded your eyes from the gruesome sight.

You liked to think that you had a strong stomach. You didn’t mind gory horror movies, and could handle most everyday ooman injuries. Broken bones, and bloody cuts didn’t phase you, but this. Between the sounds of injury, the reactionary screams of pain, and the sight of all the blood and backwards facing limbs. You struggled very badly to deal. But the uproar from the table encouraged you to look again.

Your lover now stood, one clawed foot atop their rival's head. They let out an ear splitting victory roar that rattled every plate on the table. The rest of the party cheered, and you added some meek applause.

They then returned to your side, placing a kiss on your head as they sat back down.

"Apologies, starlight. Such displays are not uncommon at these types of events."

"That's all right," you whispered back, "I was just worried." You reached out to the glowing green dripping from their abs. They chuffled in an attempt to calm you. It worked, but only slightly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted your lover's rival slinking off. The moment the door closed behind him the table roared again and the festivities continued.

After eating your weight in food, and more "wine" then you maybe could have handled, your lover, still somehow upright, guided you to their room. You tried to argue, suggesting you go back on the space plane and spend the night at your place, but your lover responded that space travel was not a good idea in your condition. They were right.

A panel on the wall slid open to reveal a small two room cabin. The first room was meticulously organized, every wall was covered in weapons, tools, and trophies. The next room was more homey. As homey as the yautja get. Furs covered the walls and floor, trinkets and personal items littered every surface, and you recognized more than a few gifts from you. A cubbie was cut out high on one wall.

You walked (stumbled) over and stuck your hands up to climb in, but didn't even come close. Your lover came up behind you and you noticed that the cubbie was even taller than them. You threw your hands up at them, demanding uppies. They chuffed at you in a way that sounded more like a laugh. That is when you noticed that they had a mask in their hand. It was much smaller than their usual helmet. They offered it to you, but in your inebriated state you still didn't understand. They turned the mask around and affixed it to your face. It was only then that you noticed that it had been getting hard for you to breathe.

You greedily sucked in the fresh air from the mask. Only now realizing how out of breath you were. Your lover took the time to remind you that 'the air on earth is different to what we are used to, and thus the air on the ship is different to what you are used to'. But you were far to drunk and sleepy to pay attention.

Without any more time to process, your lover scoped you up and effortlessly carried you up and into the cubbie. You very quickly found yourself surrounded by soft furs, and plush covers. Your lover wrapped themselves around you with their back to the entrance. Between the soft bed, the exhausting dinner, and your lover's purrs you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"We're gonna need to talk about what happened." You said fighting for consciousness. Your lover only replied.

"In the morning"

As your eyes opened you struggled to remember where you were. Eventualy the soft scratch of your lover's claws jogged your memory and you recalled last nights fight. And last nights announcement. You thought briefly about turning over and walking your lover, but you had now way of telling what time it was. But the second you stretched your legs your lover was awake anyway.

"Good morning starlight"

"How can you tell?" They turned the screen of ther writs gauntlet tword you, and using every ounce of yautja language skills you had you deduced that it was 9am. At that you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Are you all right starlight?"

"What happened last night?"

"Well," your lover began "we boarded my space plane, and then-"

"I remember what happened." You said, cutting them off and Flipping over. "I just don't understand what happened."

"What do you not understand?"

"Now your my mate? And that means I'm part of the clan?" They took a moment before awnsering.

"I do not understand either, but I am not unhappy. I am glad that you have been accepted so publicly."

"Honestly I am too, but what does this mean? Does this change anything?"

"Do you want things to change?" They asked tentively.

"No. That's why I'm worried."

"If you do not want anything to change, then nothing will."

"It just feels so official. Almost like were getting marrried."

"What is, getting married?" This earned another sigh.

"Its a ceremony where two people are joined In a legally binding commitment to eachother." Its a really big deal."

"Would you like to get married."

"Woah woah woah, slow down. I don't know about all that right now. I mean I do love you, but thats a really big commitment, and suddenly being called your mate and being part of the clan already feels like too much. I-I I just don't know."

"That is all right. I am happy with where things are now too."

#fanfic #writing #yautja #x reader #predator alien #gn!reader #yautja x human #yautja x reader #fluff #comfort

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cinnamontails-ff · 1 month

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Masterlist

Hi there, I'm Cin and I write fanfiction about badass women and emotionally constipated men. My biggest achievements include getting people horny about fountain pens and establishing the trademark "Smut starts Chapter 15" ®.

|| AO3 || Ko-Fi ||

Magistrate's Advocate:

Ongoing Magistrate Astarion AU, Childhood Friends, Legal Drama, Racial Themes, Eventual Smut, "Can we save him before Cazador makes his move?"

Anticipated word count: 150k

An Empirical Science:

Completed Rolan Academia AU, Sexually inexperienced wizard meets sex-positive STEMinist queen, Wizards vs Sorcerers, Tiefling tails as mood barometers

Word count: 27k

The Accountant's Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you're at it):

Completed Pre-Canon Astarion longfic, Enemies to Lovers, Revenge, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, My personal love letter to accountants all over the world

Word count: 108k

Pocket Money:

Completed smut one-shot after the events of "Accountant's Guide". Astarion asks his wife for pocket money and ends up topping her, even as she's sitting on his face. (On my Ko-Fi, but free to read)

Word count: 4k

Vampire Stay-at-Home Trophy Husband:

Completed EA one-shot, Astarion reverse isekais into our world, mostly fluff & comedy, neighborhood feuds and lots of cats

Word count: 4k

#bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #magistrate astarion #bg3 rolan #astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #rolan x oc #holy rolan empire #cinnamontails

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

Text

The Scorpion and the Scales //Chapter One// Poly-AU

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

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My ears are still ringing from the concert, a lingering reminder of the band's raucous performance that seemed to rattle the very walls. But as I stand outside the venue waiting, the cool Colorado night wraps around me, calming my ringing ears. I take a deep breath, letting the crisp mountain air soothe my senses. Looking up at the starry sky, I can't help but smile, the adrenaline from the show still coursing through my veins. My body may be tired, but my spirit feels alive. This is exactly where I want to be.

I scroll through the photos and videos on my phone, reliving each moment - the crush of the crowd, the first electrifying guitar riff, the encore chant that shook the rafters. I smile as I post clips to Snapchat, the glowing screen casting a soft light on my face. These are memories frozen in time now.

I glance down at my outfit, suddenly self-conscious - dark shorts with fishnets, my favorite Adidas shoes, a cropped long sleeve tee to show off my wrist tattoo. My dark curls bouncing around my shoulders, framing the natural makeup look I had spent so long perfecting. My heart pounds at the thought of meeting the band looking like this.

I can hardly contain my excitement. Getting a photo with the band tonight will be the perfect addition to my prized collection of memories! My scrapbook is absolutely full of photos with bands and celebrities - it's my most prized possession. But the photos themselves are nothing compared to the actual experiences behind them. I smile to myself remembering all the crazy adventures over the years - the VIP access, celebrity run-ins, wild nights out in Vegas and LA. I live for these thrilling moments and have to document every single one. This show tonight will give me yet another trophy photo for my scrapbook of fame.

I can feel the crowd stirring, a buzz of anticipation in the air. Around me, fans jostle for position near the stage door while security guards confer, ready to guide the band through. I'm so tempted to rush the door with some of the other die-hard fans, but I know that's crazy - I'd probably just get trampled. So, I stay put, heart racing, barely able to contain my excitement.

The crowd roars as Folio and Jolly emerge from backstage, basking in the post-show glow. Folio's got on his favorite tour tee, that vintage New York cap perched just so atop his mop of curls. And Jolly - man, that dude looks like a rockstar with his hoodie and beanie combo, those long brown locks flowing free. They pause to snap a few pics with fans, gracious as ever, before huddling up to recap the epic show.

When I see Noah, my heart stops. His towering, muscular frame moves with a feline grace and his soft brown locks fall perfectly over his chiseled features. This triple-threat talent radiated magnetism, his lethal attractiveness gripping me in its thrall. I was helpless, I was his, utterly and completely.

I see Jolly and Folio sitting off to the side of the fans. They aren't too far away, but I feel the nerves build in my chest, and I gather my courage to call them over.

"Jolly!" I shout, my voice cracking with excitement. He turns, and I start flapping my arms like a madwoman, desperate to catch his eye. This is it. My chance to meet one of my idols in the flesh. I scurry over, my legs jittery and unsteady beneath me. "Can I get a picture with you guys?" I blurt out in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves. I'm practically vibrating now, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Just breathe, I tell myself. Play it cool. But my fangirl glee cannot be contained.

He saunters over, hands in his pockets, with Folio trotting behind him. I fumble a bit with my phone, trying to find a good angle for a selfie.

"Mind if I help?" he asks, reaching out his hand. I hand him the thin device with a shaky hand. Extending his arm, phone in hand, facing the three of us so we were all framed up perfectly. I flash my best smile, leaning on the fence post for support. He snaps a few shots to make sure they came out clear, then hands my phone back.

"Thank you so much!" I squeal excitedly.

"Not a problem at all," he replies with a gentle smile, his accent coming through each word.

Folio turns to me, but he doesn't sound too thrilled - more like he's feigning the enthusiasm. "So, did you have fun?"

"Fun? Are you kidding me? That was amazing!" I gush. "Has anyone actually ever said no?" I quip playfully.

Folio chuckles and Jolly just laughs, making me feel good - at least they get my sense of humor! "I suppose it depends on who you ask," Folio says, chuckling again.

Nick shows up out of nowhere, trying to join our conversation. But his voice is drowned out by the shrieks from Noah's fans at the door. I sneak a peek and see Noah's tall figure in the center of the chaos - signing autographs, snapping selfies. I whip back around to Nick.

"What did you say?" he asks again.

I have to yell over the noise. "We were wondering if anyone's ever told you they didn't like your show!"

He lets out the most dramatic sigh. "No one's ever asked if I enjoy doing the show." I roll my eyes hard.

I roll my eyes as he pouts dramatically. "You're literally the star of the show," I point out, barely holding back my sarcasm.

He shrugs, unaffected. "Still, no one's cared to ask little ol' me about my feelings." He places a hand on his chest, channeling a wounded Victorian damsel.

I have to resist the urge to mimic gagging. "Alright, Your Highness," I say, my voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. "Do you enjoy being on the show or not?"

He taps his chin, pondering with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Hmm...maybe I don't. Have you considered that?"

"Wow, so brooding and mysterious," I deadpan.

I whip out my phone with a grin, waving it teasingly in front of Nick. "Mind snapping a quick pic for me?" I ask. He's happy to play along. I shuffle as close to him as I can with that barricade wedged between us, and he snaps off a couple shots before handing my phone back.

"Looks like you just need one with Noah now," Nick says, glancing over his shoulder. Noah's still surrounded by screaming fans begging for his attention. I give Nick an appreciative look - he's so chill and down-to-earth.

I sigh, my voice trailing off. "He seems a bit busy." I glance around at the mob of people crowded around Noah. I'm not sure I'll get that photo with him after all.

"Just hang out, we'll make sure he stops by," Jolly says, flashing me a reassuring smile. That makes me feel a little better.

"You local?" Nick asks me, clearly trying to keep the conversation flowing to avoid an awkward silence. I nod, "Yeah, born and raised here."

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold onto the warmth from the crowd. The breeze starts cutting through my shirt.

Nick, Jolly, Folio and I are still chatting away while everyone else heads home. Folio's glued to his phone, only half listening. Then security starts shooing people away, saying Noah only has time for a couple more photos. The last of the fans rush to the front for their chance.

When Noah finally makes his escape to the tour bus, Nick isn't having it. He waves Noah over, pleading, "One more, bro. I promise." Noah chuckles and ambles over, his long legs crossing the parking lot in just a few strides. Up close, he's even taller than I thought!

"Hello." His smile makes my heart flutter.

"Hi," I squeak out, unable to summon any other words. Just getting that single syllable out feels like a triumph.

"This is..." Nick hesitates, looking adorably flustered. "You know, with everything we've talked about, I never even asked your name."

"Eve," I manage, though my voice comes out high-pitched and timid. I cringe internally. I should know my own name, at least! But something about him makes me tongue-tied in a way I've never experienced before. Eve. It's not a complicated name. But looking into his eyes, I can barely remember such a simple word.

"Nick mentions something about a picture?" his voice is so low, I almost forget it's me he's talking to. We move against the barricade standing close to one another as Nick takes my phone from my hand to take the picture for us.

When the camera flashes, I blink hard, almost hoping the picture will turn out blurry. Just so we can try again.

"What cha think?" Nick asks, turning my phone screen to show me the photo. I mean, it's cute and all, but mostly I'm hyperaware of how close Noah still is to me.

"Hmm, could be better," Noah's voice is suddenly right by my ear, making chills run down my spine as he hovers behind me.

"Here," he says, stepping back and reaching for my hand. "Step over."

The moment our hands touch, my heart flutters as if a flock of butterflies has just been released inside my chest. I can't take my eyes off him, his warm smile making my knees weak. As I climb over the barricade, my movements awkward and clumsy in my nervous excitement, security rushes over. Noah holds both my hands in his, turning to look over his shoulder at the security guards rushing our way.

"It's cool, I got this," he says, his voice gentle and soothing.

My attention snaps back to him, those kind eyes telling me everything will be okay. I trust him completely. Once on the other side, I straighten my shirt, run my fingers through my hair, hoping I look presentable for this boy who has stolen my heart. Being near him is intoxicating, sparking a giddiness I've never known before. I want this moment to last forever.

His eyes lock onto mine, sending a jolt of excitement through my body. "Nick," he says, gaze never leaving mine. He reaches out his hand to his friend, "Phone."

Nick places it in his open palm, as Noah passes him the energy drink he'd been holding.

As Noah reaches out to me, my heart flutters. His arm finds its way around my waist, pulling me close. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and chills tingle down my spine at his touch. But I face the camera with him, tossing my dark curls over my shoulder and flashing a peace sign. Noah's smile lights up his whole face. I can't help but mirror it with my own grin. We take a few silly selfies together, giggling and making faces. With his arm wrapped around me, I never want this moment to end. Being this close to Noah makes my pulse race and my stomach fill with butterflies. I am absolutely smitten.

I am so excited that Noah has taken such a nice photo for me. "That should do it!" He jokes as he hands my phone back. "Much better than the others."

Suddenly Nick suggests, "Group photo!" Before I can even reach for my phone, Noah snatches it back and turns to the security guards by the door.

Jolly, Folio, Nick and I all gather together. Nick wraps his arm around my waist and I put mine around his shoulders. Then Noah comes over to fill the space on my other side, putting his arm around me too. I reach around and put my hand on his lower back, laughing.

The security guard takes our photo. I smile big - this will be the main one for my book! A memory I'll never forget. Two quick flashes and we're done.

When Noah helps me over the barricade, I feel a spark as our hands touch. His strong grip lifts me effortlessly over the metal rail, setting me gently on the ground. I turn back, not wanting our moment to end, and see him give me a little wave goodbye before he disappears into the tour bus. My heart flutters as I watch him go.

When I finally get to my car, I slide into the driver's seat with a sigh of relief. As the heater starts blasting warmth into the cold cabin, I pick up my phone and scroll through my photos until I find that selfie of Noah and me. I know I don't look my absolute best in that pic, but none of that matters - it's a photo of the two of us together and that's what's important. I set it as my new screensaver and just gaze at it for a moment, my heart fluttering. Then I open my playlist, queue up some music, and pull out of the parking lot to head home. All I can think about on the drive is how dreamy Noah looks in that photo, and how lucky I was to have met someone so wonderful. I can't wait to get home, crawl under the covers and relive every magical moment we shared today before drifting off to sleep with a smile on my face.

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hermit-lover · 3 months

Note

can you write a zedaph x reader!! reader would be a spider hybrid, but i want general fluffy antics if possible :D

i hope you have a lovely day <33

More to love

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

Character: Zedaph x Spider!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1k)

Theme: Romantic, fluff

Summary: Seeing Zed's creations after some time apart never failed to wow- but maybe all you wanted was to steal away and cuddle.

TWs: Respawning/Death, shenanigans, usage of petnames.

A/N: I'm trying to get back into writing, so I'm sorry for the shortness of the fic!! No beta we die like Zedaph.

The clinks of bottles and gentle gurgle of running water would be relaxing had it not been for the various cries and honks from the many animals dangling above the dish-like base. You stare up at them in strange fondness, pondering how he managed to sleep at night when not tucked in your arms. Squinting your eyes (many...many eyes) you scour for your golden-haired lover, trotting around the odd structure. He had called you here for some unknown reason- you had been off world recently so you secretly hoped for a relaxing, cuddly evening. The odds of which was low knowing your lover.

Turning around a bend, you peer down the long hallway lined in shiny golden trophies.

"Zed?!" You call, fangs clicking gently in thought. Did he want to come and find him or something?

"Ah! Over here!!" His voice calls from a different tunnel, and you turn to skitter in his direction.

"This place is somehow a maze!" You huff, finally seeing his familiar form.

Seemingly ignoring your dismay he throws himself towards you- not fearing being dropped due to your extra limbs. Catching him effortlessly you indulge, nuzzling into his hair and flicking sheep ears. He smells as you remember- like sunshine and grass. A satisfied hiss pulls from your lips. You truly needed and evening just holding him in your arms.

"Hi darling." Zedaph sighs, head resting on your shoulder, arms looped under one pair of your own. He's warm pressed against you, soft cardigan brushing the skin on your arms and letting your palms sink into it. His hair is curly and bouncy, catching the light and nearly reflecting it into your eyes. Soft, precious, and just as wonderful as you remember.

"Hi lovely." You respond, smile tugging your lips. You bask in each other for a long moment, before Zed seems to realize something.

"Ah-" He leans back, and you scramble to not let him fall on his ass. "I forgot! I have something to show you." Zed's eyes glitter with that familiar mischief, and earnest excitement to show me his creations. His tail wiggles, matching the curling grin. You cant help the twinge of worry- his creations had a tendency to be...explosive.

"Should I be worried?" You raise an eyebrow. His grin only sharpens. Ah, definitely then.

"It's just over here-" He shifts and you plop him to the ground, snatching your hand he guides you a little further down to an inconspicuous cubby with a bed inside. His palms are soft, with small odd scars from freak accidents, he squeezes one of your hands suddenly buzzing with energy. Thinking something less pg- you raise another eyebrow, heat crawling to your cheeks. Noticing your suspicion he giggles. "Well I wouldn't jump to conclusions." Zed releases you and steps onto the bed. "Prepare- To be amazed." He waggles his fingers as if performing magic- before stepping into a piece of tripwire- and plunging downward. Your heart leaps into your throat-

'Zedaph Withered away.' The chat pings. You almost reach forward to grab him when respawns on another tripwire and plunges into the depths- abruptly you realize he was trying to die.

'Zedaph was squished too much.' Pinged the next, you chuckled letting some tension from your shoulders- squished???

You saw him for just a moment before-

You could guess this one from the loud pop- 'Zedaph went off with a bang.'

'Zedaph was killed by magic.' Declared the next hole.

'Zedaph went up in flames.' You winces sympathetically at the painful manor.

'Zedaph was shot by arrow.'

'Zedaph was impaled.' You stifled a giggle.

'Zedaph was pricked by a pufferfish.'

Finally the last block fell from beneath him.

'Zedaph was pricked to death.'

When he respawned you gave in, reaching forwards and snatching him into you arms. As impressive as the death loop was- it was never a fun experience.

"Zed!" You scolded, "That was probably the stupidest thing you've ever created." Holding him close, you feel his heartbeat slow from the adrenaline rush. He welcomes the cuddles in a boneless slump.

"You promise?" He manages with a giggle. You cant hold back a huff of fondness. He was the stupidest smart person you've ever met. Cradling him a little tighter your protective instincts calmed a tad.

"Yes, I do. Now let's go find somewhere to cuddle thats not the death bed- alright?"

"Mmm fiiinnneee." Zed relented, leaning back to stare lovingly at you. Purple eyes hooded in tiredness and fondness. Pressing a small kiss to his button nose you not so subtly trotted from the death loopificator. "You missed." He declares smugly.

"Oh did I? My apologies." Before he can gloat at the win you lean in to steal his breath. His lips are soft and plush, so easy and tempting to sink your fangs in and claim. But this kiss was sweet- pouring in the love you two bottled up in the small time apart. You dont want to pull away- missing his touch as soon you lean back.

"I love you." He sighs, so absentmindedly it clenches your heart. His eyes flutter open, simply watching you watch him.

"I love you too." You promise, leaning to steal another sweet kiss.

You shuffle him to one side, using an extra arm to fish a bed from your inventory and plop it down. You don't even let go- crawling forwards and placing the two of you onto the sheets. You pepper his face gently with kisses. "No more death loops- okay love?"

He groans as if it was an impossible feat.

"No more death loops- this season?" He offers, puppy dog eyes glittering in hope- and guilt tripping. You sigh, pretending to think about it before chuckling.

"Fiiinnneee." You agree, in much the same tone he had you.

"Thank you lovely". He plunges back into your neck, resting against you delicately.

You cant help the rumble of appreciation that flows through you. Such a lovely, soft person trusting you wholeheartedly. Few others dared got as close- spiders weren't exactly the most popular creatures.

But this fearless little sheep loves you with his entire heart.

#hermitshipblr #hermitcraft #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft fandom #hermitblr #atlas writes #hermitcraft fic #zedaph #zedaph x reader #zedaphplays #hc s9 #zedaph s9

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elisysd · 9 months

Text

Lover - Taylor Swift

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever?

Last race before the summer break was Spa, a race that held a special place in Charles’ heart. He had there, his first F1 victory ever but it had been tainted by the loss of Anthoine, the day prior. It was always pretty emotional for him to come back here. But today, it was even more special. He was there as the leader of the championship and it added an unexpected pressure. As usual, Lyanna was there to support him and he was grateful for that.

Charles dominated his rivals on the track and finished first once again, securing not only the win but also managing a Grand Chelem. As the Monegasque anthem was playing on the podium, Charles looked at the sky while closing his eyes and Lyanna knew that he was thinking a lot about his dad. But as soon as it stopped his eyes found Lyanna and he pointed first to his trophy and then to her mouthing an “I love you” that was caught on camera. But both of them did not care.

Summer break was finally there and Charles was excited to finally be able to relax. His idea of fun was spending every moment possible with Lyanna, his family and friends and if possible, on his boat away from everything. But it was also an important time for him and Lyanna since it was marking the first year of them knowing each other and he wanted to make it special. That’s why one morning as she was sleeping soundly in his bed, the early rays of sunshine kissing her naked skin, he went to the bakery to buy chocolate muffins. Careful to not wake her when he came back in the bedroom, he got to his side of the bed and proceeded to cuddle her and kiss every inch of skin his lips could come across. She whined before stirring up, her lips finding Charles’.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He whispered against her lips as she slowly curled up in his arms.

“Good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very, very well. I have to say that you tired me out last night.” She added a smile in her voice.

“You loved it.”

“I really, really do.”

“And since I don’t have anything else to do, I promise you that I’m going to spend the next three weeks worshiping you as you deserve.”

“Words, words, Leclerc. I need less than those and more action.”

“And I promise you, you will but first, breakfast.”

“Thank you, I’m so hungry. Let me get some clothes first and I join you.”

She took a quick shower before walking to the kitchen, her wet hair in a messy bun and saw the table dressed impeccably.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Not necessarily. It’s just… it’s been a year since I’ve met you and I wanted to do something nice to celebrate.

“That’s very sweet.”

“I bought chocolate muffins.”

She looked at him knowingly.

“You remember.”

“Of course I do. How could I forget the way you looked when I opened my door and saw you holding them and how you were ready to run away. Back then you were just the pretty girl I had met in the elevator. Those muffins hold a special place in my heart. I could never forget them.”

Lyanna smiled gently at him and went to him. Charles welcomed her with open arms as she sat in his laps and buried her head in his neck.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Wait until you see what I have planned!” he laughed, kissing the top of her head.

Curious and excited, Lyanna let Charles guide her with absolute trust. She didn't question him when he gave her a sports outfit to put on and did the same. And neither when they drove off in the car and parked by a footpath away from the town. But when Charles took the backpack from the trunk and held her hand, Lyanna understood.

“Don’t tell me we are going to hike to La Tête de Chien.” She complained, making him laugh at the déjà vu feeling he got.

“Yes, this is exactly what we are going to do. But this time, I’m not letting go of your hand because I know that you are resourceful enough to run away.”

And he didn’t let go. And just like the first time, she complained all the way. Half-way to the top, Charles couldn’t handle her protests anymore and decided to carry her on his back. It was hot and the sun was bright in the sky but he didn’t care, she finally was quiet and seemed content with her position.

“How is it up there?” he asked as he could feel her hair tickling his neck.

“Perfect. It’s comfy and the view is amazing.”

“Beware that I’m not dropping you.” He teased her, repositioning his hands below her knees.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you want to test out that theory?”

As he was talking, he abruptly lowered his arms making Lyanna squealed and gripping his neck a little too hard.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m never going to let you fall. But if you could stop strangling me, that would be nice. I need to breath to be able to carry us to the top.”

They finally made it in one piece and just like the first time, Lyanna was blown away by the view. They settled on the ground as Charles was handing her a bottle of water and an apple.

“Even a year later, it’s still the most beautiful view of Monaco.” She admitted while taking pictures.

“I agree.” Said Charles not really looking at the landscapes, something Lyanna caught.

“You’re cliché.”

“You’re my most beautiful view, Lya. In the morning when I wake up, when I’m on the podium, when we’re cooking dinner, when we’re watching the tv and you fall asleep on my shoulder or late at night when I’m about to go to bed. I love watching you.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.”

“I love to do that.”

“You’re exceptionally romantic today.”

“I know, I just have a hard time realizing it’s already been a year and, in a few weeks, it will be officially our first anniversary. Time went by. And so fast.”

“I understand exactly what you mean. If someone would have told me how much I was about to change a year ago, I would have laughed at them. Life works in the strangest and most unexpected ways.”

They stayed up there for a while before finally deciding to move. As nice as the view was, tourists were beginning to arrive and their peace and quiet was disturbed. They spend the rest of the day walking around the Monegasque streets, until the ended up in the late afternoon at Le Jardin Exotique.

“Last time we were both there it was late at night.” Whispered Lyanna.

“And you were acting weirdly cute. I remember thinking that you were someone I needed to get to know better. I wanted to be your friend so badly back then. Knowing what I know now, I think I was already attracted to you.”

“Oh, you had a crush on me, Leclerc?” she teased him, poking his side.

“I think so, yes. Even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

“You know? I think I was already crushing on you as well at the time but I was a scared and unconfident girl. I would have preferred to die rather than admitting it.”

“Everyone could see that we were destined to be together but us. We were both too stubborn to see it when it was right in front of us the whole time.”

He looked at her straight in the eyes and lowered his head to capture he lips with his.

“There is one last place I want to take you before we go out on my boat to eat.”

The last place he took her was the graveyard and Lyanna knew exactly what he had in mind. They walked on the alleys, in silence, until they reached a grave, a little on the side of the others, under a tree. Charles stepped forward and knelt down, sweeping up the leaves with one hand.

“Hey dad, it’s me. It’s been a while, I know. I could’ve come sooner but… it’s still hard you know? Even after all this time. I didn’t come alone, though. I have a very special someone that I would like you to meet.”

He grabbed Lyanna’s hand and pulled her to him before squeezing it slightly. The young woman walked up to the grave, beside Charles.

“Hi, hello… oh my God this is so awkward. I’m Lyanna, your son’s girlfriend. Charles, it feels so weird… I… I just wanted to say that you raised an amazing man. Sure, he can be stubborn sometimes and a real pain in the ass but he is also loyal, caring, strong, honest, funny, and patient. He is my safe place and my home. I’ve never thought that i would be able to love again, or to know what love feels like but your son… he shows me what it’s like. Everyday. I’ve not been the perfect girlfriend or even friend to him in the past but he never failed me. And God knows I failed him more than once and he could have given up on me. But he never did. Not once. Instead he built me up when I was falling down to my knees on the ground. And I’ll be forever grateful to him for that. So I guess, what I’m trying to say is thank you. For raising him like you did, for bringing him to me. I would have loved to meet you and I hope that from wherever you are, you can see how amazing he is.”

Charles let involuntarily a tear escaped. He kissed her temple, whispering with a voice laced with emotion.

“He would have loved you; he would have said that you were perfect for me and that I should marry you someday. And I would have looked at him with a smile and said yes.”

This time, it was Lyanna’s turn to get emotional. The talks about their future were limited. Not because either of them were scared or uncomfortable to talk about it, but just because they wanted to enjoy the moment. But when Charles mentioned by simple sentences their future together, it never failed to make her tear up. It was never big talks, just little things that made her confident about the future. They would stay together. It was happening. That was it. No need to say more or to have grand gestures. They were two souls, designed by fate, that had managed to find their ways together. And it was all.

As promised, Charles brought her on the boat for a picnic. They were on their own, on the water, far from the land but not far enough for it to disappear completely from their sights. As they were drinking a glass of rosé, Charles looked at her weirdly and gulped.

“I want to ask you something. You can say no, I won’t take it the wrong way, I promise you.”

“Are you okay? I’ve never seen your face look this red.”

“It’s nothing, it’s just… well… Move in with me. For real, I mean. You have already the keys of the flat, you spend more time in it than in Nice, and this flat is on paper yours as well. We basically already live together but I just want to make it official, with your name alongside mine on the mailbox and all your stuff in my drawers. I want to take the next step in our relationship. Do you want that too?”

Lyanna didn’t know what to say anymore, he left her speechless. She took his hand in hers and tugged at it slightly trying to make him look at her.

“Charles…hey. I know I said that I needed my own independence and all, but it has been on my mind for while if I’m being honest.”

“So it’s a yes?”

“I need to take care of the paperwork first but it’s a yes.” She assured him.

He stood up and took her in his arms, twirling her around, making her laugh before putting her back down and kissing her passionately.

“So, we are really doing this? We really are going to live together for real?” he asked her, a part of him not believing it totally.

“We are. I’m going to bring all my stuff to your flat and I have so much that you won’t recognize the place you are currently living in.”

“Make it yours, Lya. I’m so happy.” He giggled.

This time, Charles did not help her moving out her things considering how things went wrong the last time. Instead, Lya asked a professional moving company to help her. She was not taking everything. Most of her furniture had been sold or donated to charities as she didn’t need them. Meanwhile, Charles had spent the entire day reorganizing his closet, his bathroom, and the kitchen cabinets to make some space for Lya. He was excited. It felt official. It felt right. It felt like a new chapter in their life, one he was ready to take on.

A few days after the big move, as they were settling on the couch, Lyanna’s head on Charles’ lap as he was playing with her hair while watching the TV, images of their future together started to flow in his mind.

“I want a big house on the hills of Monaco.” He said out of nowhere, making Lyanna drop the book she was reading and look at him.

“We just finally moved in together and you already want to move out?”

“I’m not saying right now. The flat is perfect for both of us, we don’t need more space. I was talking about a few years from now.”

She straightened up and sat down, her arm behind the back of the sofa and her body turned towards Charles.

“I would love a big garden to go with the house. But somewhere peaceful, you know. So we are not bothered.”

“And the house would be an open floor, with a big living room to welcome our friends and family and so you can all gather to watch my races if you can’t come. I would put the piano at the center so we can play whenever we feel like it and it would resonate everywhere in the house. And a big kitchen so we can cook together without bumping into each other every two minutes because we lack space. And a big dining room so for Christmas we can have a big table to fit both of our families.”

“I’d say at least four bedrooms would be ideal. One for your simulator, an office for me, our room and a guest room.”

“I want our room to face the garden, or maybe we could have our own private balcony? What do you think.”

“I would love that. And I want a pool! Imagine all the parties we could organize if we had a big garden!”

“And we could have so much space for the kids, as well.”

“That would be important indeed. So they can run around and play outside. We would’ve to protect the pool then, we wouldn’t want them to get hurt.”

“Security first. What do you think about a dog? A Golden Retriever or a Colley? They love kids.”

“Going for the whole cliché of the family with the white picket fence, I see.”

“I’m a family guy, Lya.”

“I know… How many kids do you want?” she asked a little shy.

“At least two, maybe three. But only if you want, I’m fine with two. I would love to have two girls. You three would be my princesses. I would spoil them rotten. But I don’t care.”

“And what if we have two boys, then?”

“I would cherish them and teach them how to become great men. And I would love them to go karting. Even if we have girls, actually. I would love to have at least a kid with who I can share my love for racing.”

“What if they tell you they want to be in F1?”

“I’ll encourage them, I’ll help them but they will have to work hard. It’s not going to be offered to them, I want them to get there because they proved that they had what it takes, not because they would be my kid. And what if one of them would tell you that they want to become an actor?”

“Same as you. But I’ll look over every single contract they could get because I know what type of shit is written in some of them. But before, I would encourage them to have a degree, and to study. I didn’t and I regret it.”

“It’s not too late for you if you to go back to your studies, you know. I would support you.”

“Maybe one day when I’ll stop acting. For now, it’s not in my book.”

They looked at each other, smiling and happy to see that they wanted the same things in life.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Lya.” He confessed.

The few weeks of summer break went by quickly and then it was time for Charles to go back on the tracks. Zandvoort did not go as well as Charles would have hoped, only ended up P6 after a mistake from his end. He wouldn’t have been this disappointed and angry if Max had not won his national Grand Prix, allowing him to get closer to Charles in the drivers’ championship. But then, it was Monza and he was pretty excited. There was always something special about it since it was Ferrari home Grand Prix and where Lya and him became an official couple a year ago.

It’s Lyanna who woke up Charles, the Friday before FP1 by leaving little kisses on his chest before disappearing under the duvet making him groan.

“Happy one year anniversary, baby.” She said as she went up to kiss his lips.

“Happy one year, love.” He wished her, flipping her over and starting to kiss her collarbone. “It’s early, I don’t have to leave before a while.”

“I know, I just thought that it would give us more time to celebrate before you go.”

“I promise I won’t be wasting those precious minutes.”

“I hoped you would say that.”

The Friday evening, Charles took her out in a fancy restaurant to celebrate. As they were waiting for the dessert, he took out of the bag he had carried out with him ever since they stepped out of the hotel, a rectangular form carefully wrapped and gave it to Lya. It was a photo album with pictures of them taken at different moments throughout the year they had spent together. From when they were still just friends to the last hike to La Tête de Chien they had done during the break. Beside every pictures were found little love words to remind her how loved she was.

“So you have a part of me even when I’m not there.” He had explained to her.

“I have that for you, as well.” She told him while giving him a little box.

Charles opened it and recognized immediately the horsey bracelet he wore all the time unless during races as it was often Lyanna that kept it. She had made some alliterations to it, adding the Monegasque flag and a movie clap on it beside each sides of the horse.

“I added them when you were not looking. And I thought that this bracelet could be like a tradition of ours? Like, whenever something big or important happens in our lives we can add a signification on the bracelet. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid.”

“It’s perfect. I already loved it before but I love it even more now.”

The rest of the weekend could not have gone any better as Charles, just like the year before, won in Monza and this time when he walked on the podium, his eyes looked straight at Lyanna. He pointed at her and then at the trophy and then to her, like he wanted to tell her that this win was for her. She was so proud and happy for him. Fred who was right beside her, couldn’t help but throw one arm around her from happiness.

“He will be world championship Lyanna; I can assure you. He is going to do it.”

“I hope. I don’t want to jinx it.”

As they were coming back towards the hospitality to wait for Charles, Fred pulled her aside.

“Lyanna, I wanted to ask you something a little bit personal.”

“Yeah sure, go ahead.”

“I don’t know if she told you, but I started seeing your mom since your birthday.”

Lyanna almost spat out the water she was drinking.

“Seeing, as in dating?”

“She is not comfortable with that, considering that you date Charles and I’m well… basically his boss. I understand her, but she is a wonderful woman and I really like your mom.”

“Are you asking for… my permission?”

“I think that if she knew her daughter would be okay with it, it would help.”

“I like you Fred, I’ve no doubt that you are someone that could treat her right but… it feels weird. But… I can’t tell you no. It would be unfair. I guess, as long as you guys don’t act all lovey-dovey around me it would be fine. Does that make you my stepdad, then?”

“We’re not there yet.”

“Thank you. For letting me know and for taking care of my mom.”

When Lyanna told everything to Charles, he was not that surprised.

“I didn’t know but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Fred looking this happy. I thought that it was because of my performance but I guess I was wrong. Or at least, it’s not only because of me.”

“Isn’t it weird to you?”

“No. Fred is a good guy, don’t worry about your mom, she is in good hands.”

The next two races were not great for Charles with Max winning them and him ended up to positions he was not used anymore. The one month break between Singapore and Austin was welcomed. With Charles, they had planned a getaway of two weeks in Greece, just the two of them, away from distractions and people. They had rented a little house with a private beach.

They spent their days or in the beach and in the water, or in bed, leaving the house only when it was needed. But they didn’t care, they needed this time off away from everything before both of their schedules were starting to get busy again. With the last part of the season for Charles and the start of the Ferrari promo for Lyanna. She knew that she would not be able to come for the last races of the season beside Abu Dhabi, obviously, where she would be. No chance she was missing it.

“I’m going to miss you.” She said as they were laying in bed, Charles drawing patterns on her naked skin as she was listening to his heart beating.

“It’s just a few weeks and then I’m back home hopefully with a world championship title.”

And Lyanna believed him.

============

author's note: Sooooo, did you catch the references to the previous chapters 👀 I love how fluffy and drama free this chapter is. It was needed after the last two chapters lmao. And it feels a little bit like closure as well... the end is coming... (i'm gonna cry in the corner) As usual, let me know your thoughts through the comments or ask box if your too shy. And don't forget to leave a like or reblog the story. It helps. And it lets me know that you like the story. taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard

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