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viennakarma · 5 months

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Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

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

Word count: 8.9k

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

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

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

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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

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hannieehaee · 5 months

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18 + / mdi

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, creampie, etc.

part 1

wc: 2410

a/n: ppl rlly liked my first gyu x idol!reader fic so i decided to make a pt. 2! im working on a long fic for idol!gyu x idol!reader rn (its a diff universe from this one tho hehe) which should be out this month <3

masterlist

it's been a bit hard.

dating an idol as an idol would really seem like the ideal situation, except when it wasn't.

yeah, you had been absolutely ecstatic upon finding out mingyu had been carrying a torch for you for years. you had felt the same, only ever entertaining your other friends' flirting out of mere desperation for the man to finally notice you. after he suddenly blew up, declaring his love for you, you thought it'd just be smooth sailing from here, except you hadn't really thought much past that.

maybe you were being unreasonable. i mean, you had never dated a fellow idol before! maybe it was all in your head. or maybe you just weren't too used to the dynamic just yet. you weren't too sure. but you had no idea how much longer you could take watching mingyu flirt his way through life anymore.

fans, staff, other idols, male or female, you name it. mingyu simply had an overly flirtatious demeanor towards absolutely everyone. you, personally, always kept a very clear line in fan service, or any other type of flirtatious scenarios (sans your previous attempts to make mingyu jealous). mingyu did not afford you the same courtesy, consistently following requests to call fans his girlfriends and even going as far as initiating the flirting in both fancalls and physical fan meetings. okay, maybe this was something you could put up with. these interactions were very short lived, so they never went too out of hand, but these were not his only offenses.

you looked past the flirting with idols, chalking it up to being played up for the cameras for entertainment purposes. you looked away whenever it went far enough to have fans speculating online. you knew idols were professionals at delivering fan service, always wanting to give people something to talk about. hell, you did it too! this was a bit annoying to watch, but you trusted your boyfriend and your idol colleagues, so you let it slide. it was other things that were harder to look past.

was there any need for him to flirt up a storm among all the female staff members? he was behind the scenes, for fucks sake! there were no cameras nor any benefit from entertaining their giggles and subtle touches of his muscles as they pretended to be interested in what he was saying. you knew your boyfriend probably didn't realize that he was flirting, having simply grown too used to doing it that it was second nature to him by now, but it was still frustrating! specially when no one knew that mingyu was taken. as far as any of his staff members knew, mingyu was still just your best friend, and any sighting of the two of you together (always accompanied by another member of the 97s or a fellow group mate of his to avoid suspicion) was always assumed to be strictly platonic. even now, as you walked into his dressing room, only to find his stylist - and a few of the members' stylists - flocking around him as he told some stupid joke that probably wasn't even funny.

it was sickening, really. the way none of them saw how desperate they came off. how none of them realized that if they all flirted with him at once, it truly had no effect, as he wouldn't pay special attention to any of them in particular. you felt like a hater, but being real, you were starting to become one. you watched him for a good five minutes, wondering if he'd ever notice your presence from across the room. when he did, he immediately went over to you, cutting off any of the girls who had been flirting with him in favor of welcoming you. he was amicable, giving you a simple hug. but his eyes told a different story. anyone who knew mingyu knew those eyes were reserved for his loved ones. that made you calm down a bit, even hugging him back and daring a short peck on the cheek.

today was yet another shoot at the hybe building. you had the fortune of belonging to the same company as your boyfriend, which meant you could stop by whenever you wanted (as long as you kept a low profile). you'd often drag jungkook along with you for appearances' sake, but had decided to go solo today. gyu was clearly happy to see you, interrupting his stylists to take a quick breather with you, heading over to one of the empty changing rooms and finally indulging you with less platonic affection.

"baby! wasn't expecting you today?", despite that, he was clearly enthusiastic to see you, attached to you like a magnet now that he had locked the door behind you, making sure no one was around to see his affections towards you.

"yeah, clearly ..." you couldn't help but grumble, disconnecting yourself from him.

mingyu didnt give you much of a chance to create distance between you, immediately holding onto you again, this time by wrapping his arms around your waist, yours instinctively leaning against his hard chest.

"baby, what's wrong? what do you mean?", a pout made its way to his face. of course he was unsuspecting. the mingyu you knew was far too into you to ever seriously hit on someone else when he had you.

you responded with a sigh, "mingyu, do you have to flirt with every girl you meet?"

"w-what? what are you talking about?"

"did you seriously not notice all those girls giggling at every word you said? they all want you, gyu. and you never put a stop to it."

"i dont .. the stylists? baby, ive never flirted with anyone in our staff, what? i work with them, of course i'm nice, but its always strictly platonic, you know that."

"the fact that you dont even realize it!", you separated yourself from him again, facing away and crossing your arms across your chest like a petulant child.

"baby ..."

"no, gyu. i'm not in the mood. i came to see you, but again, you're hitting on some other girl."

he wrapped his arms around you for the third time now, pulling your back to his chest as he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck. he was trying to break you down before you even managed to get fully angry at him

"princess, i'm sorry. i swear i didnt realize i was doing it. i- im just too friendly, i guess. why would i wanna flirt with anyone when i have you right here, hmm?", the kisses he began leaving along your neck did not help matters. he knew your weak points.

"forgive me, baby? please? don't want any of them. i'll tell them. i'll tell everyone, okay?"

"gyu ..." you whined, but still angled your neck for hin to keep kissing, leaning against his hold.

"yeah, pretty? i'll tell the whole world. it's just you for me," he paused, letting out a quiet chuckle as he shook his head, "it's kinda funny, though. now you know how i felt any time the boys would flirt with you."

"gyu! how is it my fault they liked me? and i only flirted with jungkook one time before we were ever together."

"and? still hated seeing you with anyone else. you're mine. you've always been."

he turned you around then, holding you close to him as he looked into your eyes. he smiled at you, kissing your nose before chuckling at your whines of annoyance at him. even when you wanted to be mad at him you couldnt. he'd always turn the situation around and swoon you somehow.

"let me show you, baby? show you that you're mine? maybe we can show those mean mean stylists too, huh?", okay, he was just teasing you now, lips drawn way too close to yours as he ran his hands up and down your back.

"gyu ..." you whined, making no effort to actually pull away.

"you'll let me. won't you, baby?" his eyes were glued to your lips, in a similar fashion to your own. you knew he could tell how badly you wanted him to close the gap, but you refused to make the first move. then he'd win. he'd be the voice of reason, which was something you just couldn't have.

"c'mon baby, just kiss me. you know you wanna. dont you wanna show them ill all yours? maybe leave your lipstick print all over my face for them to clean up? give me a hickey to- hmph!"

you had to shut him up eventually. he was driving you crazy. but he was also right. knowing you could make a statement about your relationship without actually having to explicitly say anything about it sounded too good to pass up, so you might've gone a little extra nastier with your kissing, running your lips all over his mouth, letting your tongue do all the work for you. mingyu had no complaints, even turning pliant under your touch.

huh.

he wanted you to be jealous, didnt he? he mightve not flirted on purpose, but now that he knew you were jealous he mustve felt some type of ... pride? at knowing how badly you wanted him to be yours and yours only. well. in that case, you were gonna give it to him.

you're not sure how it happened, but you ended up sitting on him, both your shirts thrown off as you ground on his lap as he sat back on the couch. the lower part of his face, along with part of his neck, were covered in lipstick stains, matching the smudged red along your own lips. you had left a few hickeys (okay, maybe five) on his chest area, not wanting to make the stylists work too difficult. the are with most damage, however, had been his hair, as you had messed it up in all directions possible through your incessant pulling. his hairstylists might have had complaints, but mingyu sure didnt have any. he kept moaning and sighing against your lips, hands guiding your hips from the moment you sat down on him.

"baby ... give me more ... please," you didnt blame him for growing frustrated at the lack of action. you yourself felt like you were at the precipice of pleasure, just needing to sit on him to find the way to your climax.

you helped him lower his pants enough to free his cock, playing with it for a bit before allowing it to slip under your skirt, panties shoved to the side in favor of creating a safe passage for his dick. you couldnt help the loud whine of pleasure you let out at the intrusion, feeling accompanied by mingyu and his own groan.

"gyu! shit ... feel so good- so big ..."

"i know, baby ... so pretty n so tight for me ... how could i ever want anyone else when i have my pretty girl so perfect for me. hole so wet and needy ..."

you cried at his words, speeding up as you angled yourself back to allow your clit to grace against him, making your eyes roll back even more.

"that's it, pretty. gonna cum for me? gonna let me fill you up, beautiful? that'll- fuck ... that'll show them who i belong to, huh? all yours, baby. just like y- you're all mine."

"yours! gyu, fuck! y- yours!"

"and im yours, baby. dont forget."

he kept poisoning at you from below, dragging your hips so you'd bounce up and down at a pace that had your toes curling. he always knew how to fuck you in ways that had your mind going completely blank, like right now. neither of you paid mind to the dressing room next door that was full of staff who could likely hear your muffles whines against each other's lips. you relished on it, even, knowing that once you walked back in the room they'd know who mingyu really belonged to.

"cum, baby. need you to cum so i c- shit ... so i can fill you up."

"almost there, gyu, just ... fuck! just like that! i'm cumming! gyu!"

"yeah, shit. gonna fill you up now, okay, baby? want you to keep it all in. show them im yours, yeah?", his hips never slowed down despite being you being on top. you were now just a rag doll he was using for his own pleasure. nothing had ever felt this good.

he filled you up soon after, with most of it spilling out due to the massive size of his load. he used his fingers to push it back in, then lifting them to your lips for you to lick clean, which you did with no complaint.

"oh, baby ... my nasty girl. how could i ever look at anyone else when i have my nasty baby so desperate for me? hmm? you're perfect for me, angel. dont care about any girl that flirts with me. you're all i want," he used his fingers to push down on your tongue as he said this, groaning at the way you sucked and sucked while looking at him with wide eyes.

"gyu ..." you whined as soon as he left your mouth alone.

"but im still sorry, angel. i didnt realize it bothered you. i get it. kinda wanna fight any of ur male fans when they get a little too friendly with you. that rookie at mnet last month? wanted to take him out back for the way he was looking at you when you performed."

"gyu!," you knew your boyfriend had been jealous of your friend group due to their former crushes on you, but he'd never told you that he felt the same way about literally any man you'd come across as an idol.

"what? im just saying, i get it! im also possessive and jealous. thats why we compliment each other. now come on. lets get you dressed, baby. gotta go have a very awkward conversation with my stylist so she can fix everything you just did to me."

"me?! look at me! im covered in cum!"

"hmm yeah. so pretty, angel. you better have it all in you by the time we get home, yeah?"

you huffed, but agreed, rolling your eyes at the innocent peck that landed on your cheek as he helped you look presentable.

you knew things would be awkward around his staff from now on, but it had been worth it.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu imagine #mingyu scenarios #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu oneshot #mingyu fanfic

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temis-de-leon · 2 months

Text

Replaced MC AU/AU - Part 3

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, male! MC and crushing! male! NES (MC x NES)

How’s it gonna be , Intro – Part 0 , Part 1 , Part 2

Masterlist

CW: Solomon is mentioned, jealous and mean brothers, black cat x golden retriever behavior i think, one single kiss, a bit ambiguous at the end, not very angsty really, NES x MC centered

A/N: my favourite version of NES and MC by far, I enjoyed writing this a lot. However, my pc came out as homophobic and decided not to connect to any WiFi for this chapter, so I won't be able to update the links nor the masterlist until next week. Also, some people aren't properly tagged once again because I can't find their blogs for some reason?? So so sorry for that, but I don't know what to do about it.

NES was… someone they didn't expect. Unknowingly infuriating, always distracted and too unbothered to care about any of his surroundings. He was a disaster that enjoyed living in disaster and, if they weren't threatened by his presence, Satan and Belphegor would love his insolence.

Barbatos remembered an occasion, one moment from the second week of NES's attendance at RAD, where Lucifer gave him an earful for his ‘impropriety and insulting attitude towards the uniform’. Mammon had been there too, shirt out of his pants and jacket nowhere near closed, backing his brother up.

NES’s pristine appearance lasted only two periods before MC saw him chocking under his tie and laughed at him in sympathy. After that, he'd only wear the uniform ‘the Lucifer way’ if MC was there to eventually mess up the outfit.

And how could the eldest brother object to that?

“They need to loosen up, Lucifer”

MC always had the last word.

Solomon found the situation hilarious. Witnessing the brothers competing against each other in search of MC's attention was one thing, but adding NES to the equation? Yes, Barbatos had to somewhat agree. It was funny.

Who had been cooking for hours in the kitchen if not NES trying to make a quick snack for his fellow human? And who was the first one to leave the House of Lamentation each morning, already waiting next to MC’s seat by the time everyone else arrived?

Mammon called him a simp. Asmo liked to call them both the kettle and the pot.

And while, yes, Lucifer was the one and only Avatar of Pride, none of the brothers were able to admit just how big of a deal NES was becoming.

When would it be too late?

The Demon Prince's birthday arrived and the mandatory celebration was as grandiose as one could expect. Everything was bright and full of laughter, the streets cramped with food stalls, demons and witches alike throwing mesmerizing magic tricks for the children, acrobats, costumes, music…

At one point MC considered handcuffing himself to NES. Even Luke was easier to manage!

Fortunately, Beel ended up finding him playing darts with a succubus and her partners. Unfortunately, MC seemed to be the only one who wanted to check if he was okay.

It was becoming… draining.

Not NES, of course. Sure, he was a handful, but none of his mistakes were intentional. Everything he did came from naiveness and ignorance, being new to the Devildom, and what he lacked in common sense he made up in enthusiasm.

At least he didn't steal his valuables and he’d never threatened to kill him or eat his heart, something MC still thought about frequently. The worst thing NES ever did to him was throw them both to the ground when he tried to slide on the floor at full speed. And he still apologized for that from time to time.

Did the brothers ever apologize for all the things they did or said? The way they used to look at him? He couldn't remember.

Now they were doing the exact same thing to NES. Treating him like an unwanted guest instead of the roommate they insisted on having, turning down every single one of his ideas, including the good ones, and very passively threatening him in a condescending tone, as if they could impress MC with that.

Maybe it was a demon thing? Or rather regular jealousy brought to a dangerous level?

Whatever the reason, MC didn't waste any time sitting them in the living room and chewing the hell out of them, something that enraged Lucifer and put a strain in their relationship, still making it difficult to make small talk, but of course none of them would back down. The rest of the brothers weren't so obvious showing their annoyance, but it was still there.

The good thing was that, as long as MC was there, NES wouldn't be the receiving end of any bullshit. The bad thing was that MC didn't know what was going on behind his back. And NES, bless his soul, was never willing to tell him if any of them made him uncomfortable.

It was draining and NES gave him a sense of peace, but the brothers missed him and they wanted to monopolize his time, but MC wanted to spend time with his new friend and that made the brothers angry and jealous, which made MC anxious, which made NES worry.

Every factor made the situation worse. The brothers were too much, NES was too good for the Devildom and MC was too done with everything.

However, the time passed surprisingly fast as they sang Happy Birthday to Diavolo, eating in the midst of it all, dancing with each other and talking like they used to do before the ridiculous ordeal, albeit with a subtle tension that limited their topics of conversation.

They even ignored NES! Which was better than any other option!

So, once the voices toned down and the guests divided themselves into small groups, MC forced himself to whisk Diavolo away for a moment and have a serious talk, Barbatos following close and listening with a curious glance.

That proved to be nothing but a waste of time.

“It's too soon to take conclusions, MC. I'm sure the brothers just need time. After all, remember your first year here!”

He did remember. That's why he was so worried.

And why did Diavolo talk to him like that? He was 100% sure Lucifer insulted NES to no end anytime he had more than one horn of Demonus. What did they call NES in the privacy of their office? What did they think while they talked to him and faked respect? What were they plotting when they looked MC in the eyes and promised him they wouldn't threaten NES anymore?

Too many lies.

“Alo?”

But then… NES smiled so easily… Like none of that bothered him. Luckily, MC didn't mind caring in his behalf. He wondered if being able to save someone from the fate he had last year was the root of all his actions.

“You look so worried, you're gonna get all wrinkly! Not like you'd look bad, but if you're going to have wrinkles, won't you rather have them in your eyes? Like, from smiling too much, you know?”

He did smile then, imitating NES’s caring expression.

“There you are, handsome! You're gonna be the envy of all in 90 years!”

“Do you really think I'm going to live that much?”

“God, I hope so”

They laughed softly, but it still sounded too loud. MC looked out for the brothers, checking their positions in the ballroom before grabbing NES’s hand and dragging him to one of the balconies. He preferred not having the moment tarnished.

“Good idea! Too hot in there…"

“Don't lie to me”

“Wha…?”

MC stared at him quite sternly, although trying not to look to much like Lucifer, but he needed an answer.

“Do they still bother you? Do they threaten you? Do they ignore you? What do they do?”

“Whoa, whoa, MC. Here comes the frown again…”

He raised his hands, caressing MC’s frown until it softened. His touch was warm and soft and it made MC lean towards him, not wanting it to end. When he opened his eyes again, unknowingly closing them before, NES stayed in that position.

There was silence for a few seconds, interrupted only by the violins, the harps, the pianos and other instruments serenading them under the moonlight. NES could only stare at MC’s lips for a fragment of a second before someone grabbed the scruff of their necks with poorly hidden aggressiveness and brought them back to the ballroom.

MC raised his gaze in fury, bending down to help NES get up again. He expected to see red eyes and black feathers, but, to his surprise, what stared back at him were purple eyes and a long bovine tail.

He wanted to scream at him, to ask what the actual fuck was wrong with him. Would he had acted the same if it was one of his brothers instead of NES? Would he had such hate in his eyes?

But people were staring, very obviously amused at the sight of two humans being put back in place.

MC would have to wait.

“NES! What happened?!”

MC watched as the boy waved at him, hanging upside down where Mammon usually spent countless hours. His arms were tied behind his back and the rope covered his body in a way that surely left no room for the blood to circulate properly. His head already looked dangerously red and MC knew he couldn't leave him there for too long unless he wanted him to have permanent damage.

“I think I failed my last test, but I don't really remember”

“What do you mean you don't remember?”

“Well, I'm very dizzy right now, but I'm sure it's okay. Lucifer will get me out of here soon enough”

Or he won't.

MC sighed, cursing in silence before studying the thick ropes and the tight knots. He knew he wouldn't be able to untie him by hand and he wouldn't be surprised if the kitchen suddenly lacked knives, no doubt the result of Lucifer's pettiness and sadism.

“Wait for me here, okay? I have to get something to cut the ropes…”

“Wait, wait! MC!”

He turned around, patiently staring at his loopy smile and cloudy eyes. He couldn't wait for too long, but maybe he could indulge a couple of minutes.

“What?”

NES briefly looked away, his embarrassment gaining MC’s attention. Now that was a rare sight.

“Have you seen Spiderman?”

His heart stopped for a second and he felt his cheeks getting hot. His hand, previously grasping his hip, fell to his side and made him lose balance.

“You can say no, of course. We can forget about this and I won't get offended. A little sad maybe, but I can manage. I like you too much to stop liking you for a kiss. Does that sound weird? You get me, right?”

His rambling gave MC the opportunity to go down a couple of steps in the staircase and align his face in front of NES’s. The position was weird and staring at his chin was an experience he didn't know he would get the chance to live, but he didn't care.

It wasn't until he finally kissed him mid-sentence that he noticed a figure peeking around the corner, eyes staring without blinking and jealousy ready to made itself known.

Accepting the challenge, MC closed his eyes and grasped NES’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Dinner that night would be fucking awkward.

Taglist: : @stfuchaase @k1-an @meggs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006 @jonielunar @piercedddriver @cosmidaydreaming @bluegrey02 @anxious-chick

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mirrored-movements · 11 months

Text

Home Pt. 2

(Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Synopsis: You've always had the ability to travel through universes, there was never a reason as to why and you never paused to question it. However, there was someone else who began to question it.

Warnings: Obsessive behavior? Horrible writing probably <3

Part 1 Here

“And you’re 100% sure you’re qualified to do all of this?” Finding yourself seated on a medical chair with the sleeve of your arm rolled up and a tension banned wrapped around your forearm, you stared at Miguel wearily.

Over the past few days, you’d been stuck with the man going through some tests in order to determine your ‘danger level’. Most of them unfortunately coming out inconclusive leading the man to declare that he needed a blood sample.

“How many times do I have to tell you- I am qualified.” Rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh Miguel shook his head, one hand holding an alcohol wipe while the other readied a needle.

Rolling your own eyes in a mockery you let out a huff. “Qualified with what though? I’ve been stuck in your presence for almost a week now and I barely know anything about you. What happened to some small talk or something?”

His head shook from side to side once more, the man merely humming to signify he was somewhat listening all the while taking a quick blood sample. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; you seemed like an outgoing person, and got along with most of the people that happen to stumble across you within the HQ.

It was just the fact that he didn’t know if you were an anomaly or not and didn’t want to risk getting attached nor risk the multiverse.

He couldn’t go through any of that again.

“Well, what exactly do you want to know? I might feel obliged to humour you.” Pulling away from your arms and passing you a small bandaid, Miguel twisted around to set the vial of blood into a centrifuge. His gaze flickered towards you from the side awaiting whatever your little mind might come up with.

As if not expecting this response you hesitated for a second, suddenly every question you had before left your brain and only one stupidly basic one remained. “What's your favorite colour?”

Blinking almost dumbfounded at the simple question he fully turned to face you, mind wondering why out of everything you could’ve asked that you asked that.

“I don’t have one.”

“What about favorite animal?”

“No.”

“Favorite season?”

“None.”

“Are you just going to say no to all my questions or are you going to answer one of them?” Finding that he wasn’t answering anything no matter how simple you crossed your arms with a disgruntled huff.

Seeing the way you grew annoyed with his replies Miguel's lips barely quirked up, one of his thick brows raising. “Well, are you going to ask any actual questions?” Retorting back with that he then rose up from his seat, eyes remaining fixed to where you sat.

“Ok fine, if you weren’t bitten by a spider how come you’re still a Spiderman?”

“I’m not answering that.” Taking the vial of blood from the small machine Miguel had to hide his amusement at the way you’d begun complaining. Your smaller form quickly jumping up from your seat to begin berating him trying to come to a conclusion to your own question.

“But you said-” “I said I might feel obliged.”

“So you were never going to answer in the first place?!” Gasping dramatically at the realization you laughed in disbelief at the sort of sneaky smirk that’d curled across the man's face.

Maybe there was a reason you’d gotten mixed up in all this multiverse madness.

“Lyla,” Calling out to his AI, Miguel awaited her appearance. The holographic image right away questioned him on what he needed. “Check in on (Y/N).” The command was simple to follow, and despite the small teasing from the AI a screen had popped up before her.

“Mm looks like she’s chatting with some people.” Musing that out Lyla bobbed her head, her small form flickering to the side as Miguel peered over at the screen. A part of him wondered who you’d found yourself talking with.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sight of Ben leaning over a pillar dramatically, whatever being said presumably incoherent as yourself and the form of Peter both shared a look before bursting into laughter.

His chest rumbled.

“Lyla, assign those two to a mission.”

Looking over at the man with a brow raised she made a pop noise with her lips. “There are no missions curr-” “Make something then. Tell them to investigate something or someone or just- do something.” His hand waved through the air as he spoke, “And tell (Y/N) to come here.”

“Roger that.”

Watching the small hologram fade away he let out a breath, tongue running across the elongated canines within his mouth before another huff left him. Heavy steps bringing him back over towards the microscope he’d been occupied with for the past few hours.

Eyes peaking through it once more at the sample that rested below, watching the small cells dance around. The genetic makeup of them seemingly assimilating with the atmosphere around them, matching with the structure of those from that universe.

It was a breakthrough in his opinion.

A serendipitous breakthrough.

“Damn room is always so damn dark.” Stepping into the room that housed Miguel's strange floating office you grumbled under your breath about the lack of light, eyes struggling to adjust to it. “You know ambient lighting is a thing.”

“The light hurts my eyes.”

Practically jumping out of your skin at the sudden appearance of the hulking man you let out a forced laugh. “Does that have to do with your spider bite-less Spiderman abilities or something?”

“It does actually.” Without skipping a beat Miguel clicked his tongue, gaze drifting across the plain look stretched out across your face at the response, it looked like you hadn’t expected it either.

“Oh, ok thats, thats something I guess.” Clasping your hands together you nodded your head, praying that your face gave off the ‘what did you call me here for’ look.

To be honest, you didn’t mind Miguel. He was very intimidating upon your first meeting however it seemed like as the testing progressed and you were stuck with him for a while he seemed to loosen up. As much as he could at least, there were still some things that freaked you out a bit.

Such as the way he could just appear out of nowhere and scare the literal soul of of you as well as his temper. You’ve only seen it once since being at HQ, it was short but nearly ingrained into your brain as in that moment you’d come to find that perhaps he was more spider like- then the spider-people.

Fangs. He had fangs is what you meant, and claws- you think.

“You shouldn’t socialize too much with everyone here. They might question why a civilian is here.” Chiding that in absentmindedly he outstretched one of his arms towards the floating platform, a practically glowing web being shot from a device around his wrist allowing him to gain access to it.

Blinking at what he’d said then what he did you opened your mouth to speak only to shut it right after as that same glowing web shot down attaching to the front of your shirt. With a short yell in surprise, you were whisked onto the platform, Miguel's hands planting onto your shoulder to steady you as soon as you’d landed.

“A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“I’m going to swing you onto the platform.”

Giving him an ‘Are you serious’ look you’d dropped it rather quickly. He seemed different compared to when the last time you both chatted. More…willing to speak and joke around with you if that makes sense.

Before he seemed to keep you at arms reach but now it felt like he was trying to make up for lost time.

“Ok well we’re on the platform now, what did you want to show me? Or why did you need me.” Somewhat growing anxious with the sudden silence you watched him press a few things against a glowing orange keyboard, a pair of large circles popping up.

“Do you know what these are?”

Starring at the two things your brows furrowed. “I don’t know a cow pattern?”

“This one,” He pointed towards the one on the right, “Is from your average day civilian. This one,” the other one was pointed to. “Is from you. Notice any difference?”

“Yes?” He gave you an incredulous look and you corrected your response. “No, I don’t.”

“Exactly. From this, we know you’re not an anomaly.”

Perking up at this you stared at him in disbelief, heart beginning to race a little at the prospect of being allowed to leave. “So does that mean I can go home now? That we’re done testing?”

He didn’t quite like that implication.

“You are home.” Seeing the way your hands fell back to your sides he added on as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “This is the average citizen from here, Earth-928 and, your genetic code- this here,” He motioned back towards your circle. “Matches here.”

“Whatever home you had is here now. You belong here, it is set in stone.” There was no way he was going to mention how your code blends in with whatever universe you found yourself in.

Why go somewhere else, when you could stay there?

Blinking while trying to process what he was saying you began to shake your head in disbelief. “Well, your data is wrong then. I wasn’t born here, so I can’t stay here.” Stepping back you shook your head at him, mind still trying to wrap around this. “You said I’m not an anomaly so I can just continue to do what I was doing before coming here.”

“But what if you leave here and then become an anomaly? What happens then? It is proven that breaking what is meant to happen ruins worlds.”

“Now you’re just trying to psyche me out. I know I don’t belong here Miguel, whatever tests you did are wrong.”

Clicking his tongue he watched you carefully, eyes sharp, almost predatory now compared to how you recalled them being. However, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you can go.”

“But do you even know where home is?”

Your mind paused at this, unwilling to quite process what he’d said. You’d been traveling around for so long- did you remember where you lived? Was there ever actually a place you called home or was that something you made up in a sort of last-ditch effort to seek self-comfort?

But, despite all that- you surely weren’t going to be stuck in one place. That’s not how you did things.

“I’m sure I can manage.” Choosing your words carefully noting how Miguel had become ridged you felt as though it was in your best interest to open a portal. “It was nice to meet you, Miguel.”

“You get lonely traveling around.” Once more he spoke, hand leaning out to press a key on the keyboard, your voice playing through some speakers of a conversation you’d had with Peter on one of a few occasions. Maydays father becoming some sort of comforting face you found yourself returning to for advice- despite his advice being close to unusable. “Never fitting in. People alienating you. Seems like you’ve had more fun and made more friends here than, say the hundreds of dimensions you’ve been to.”

“Am I correct?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in everything? You weren’t like this the first time I came here.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to be stable here. But now I do.” Whatever was running through his mind left him letting out another breath. “And I know where you belong now. All this time, all these portals- led you here.”

“To me.”

Stunned. Shocked. Confused. Speechless.

Those were only a few words you could use to describe how you were currently feeling. Just an overall ‘What?’ could sum up everything.

“Miguel,” Raising a hand as though you were trying to tame some sort of wild animal you sucked in a breath. “I barely know you. You barely know me. We barely know each other.”

Taking a step the man hummed nodding along, something you previously took as a friendly manner now seemingly less friendly and more of a way to keep him from lashing out. “Then we get to know each other. It’s not too late.”

“It’s never too late.” Despite his tone sounding hopeful, the look he gave sent your nerves buzzing, a hidden challenge almost. Cocoa hues flickering a ruby hue the longer you seemed to remain silent- say something.

Seeing that you weren’t answering Miguel glanced up at the ceiling, the last bit of his patience wearing thin- not that it was very big, to begin with. “I’ll give you a head start,” A step forward from him was a step back for you, the airy laughs leaving him sounding hollow. “You can go anywhere you want, any dimension. But if you can’t find where your ‘home’ is by the end of the day?”

“I’ll come and get you. And bring you home.”

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

Casually wrote the three things on my account in one day <3 anyways if you have any issues with my writing or anything, sue me IG idk.

Anyways lemme know if you want a part 3- I might feel inclined to write more for my lovely lovely Miguel <3

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

Text

Candle (Part 3, Final)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Genre: Yoon Jeonghan x female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Wonwoo's sister so your last name is Jeon, but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 4.2k+

Part 1 Part 2

Series Masterlist [I would recommend reading the first story in this series, Patience, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

You returned Ella's little book when you saw your friend next at the Hasting's ball. Fortunately, she was far too occupied by her new and exciting courtship with Mr. Xu to notice that you had ripped out an entire page.

"Found what you need?" Ella teased you.

"I found that I didn't need it," you replied lightly.

She did not push you for a more elaborate response, but seemed surprised when you were approached by none other than Mr. Yoon Jeonghan himself, dressed in the most dapper black dress coat and seeking to escort you to the dance that you had promised him.

"You are an excellent dancer, Mr. Yoon," you complimented him when he took your hand gently in his.

"I can hardly accept that compliment. You have had much more practice than I; your movements are very graceful," Jeonghan replied kindly. He did not give himself enough credit. His dark eyes never broke eye contact with you for a moment, and his step never faltered.

"I hope you are not trying to lure me into a false sense of security so that you may swipe something else from my person. What shall it be this time? My earrings?" you teased.

Jeonghan chuckled. "I assure you I am not quite so nimble, nor so talented a pickpocket."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "But the pearls-"

"-had already fallen off your neck and onto the floor. I noticed them and picked them up when I pulled out your chair," Jeonghan admitted. "I hope you are not terribly disappointed that I did not actually swipe them from you."

"So you were not a thief but the hero who found my necklace?" you asked with a dramatic sigh. "I was wondering why the clasp was broken. It is not nearly as exciting, but I suppose it will have to do."

"If it pleases you, there is something I might try to steal from you yet," Jeonghan suggested.

Your eyes brightened.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Well if I told you, you would guard it too well," he protested. "It is the golden rule of any pickpocket. The victim must be caught unawares."

You narrowed your eyes. "That will prove a difficult challenge, then, Mr. Yoon. I am already far too aware of you."

Jeonghan smiled. His hand came up to meet your gloved one.

"I am up for the challenge, Miss Jeon."

"And you think it is a good idea to challenge the woman who is currently holding her tongue with your secrets? I would be careful, Mr. Yoon. If you become too light-fingered, then I may become loose-lipped," you warned teasingly.

"I can think of ways to keep your lips occupied, so that they have no leisure to be spilling secrets."

You gasped at Jeonghan's audacity and your cheeks instantly felt hot at the suggestion. You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish for a moment until the dance came to an end, and Jeonghan gave you a smirk and a bow.

"Have a nice evening, Miss Jeon," he said lightly. "I will see you when it is time for me to pay my next instalment."

—-------------------------------

It was difficult not to be swept up in the whirlwind of emotions that Yoon Jeonghan brought with him over the next few weeks. It was a never-ending game. Jeonghan was the perfect gentleman on the surface. He helped you down from your horse after a pleasant ride at the park, opened doors and pulled out chairs for you- but every now and then, when nobody else was listening, he would let something suggestive slip in that low, mischievous tone of his that made your face heat up, and your heart pound.

You were rapidly becoming quite enamoured with the man, and inevitably, others began to take notice.

"Oh, look," Ella commented one afternoon, during a pleasant walk that you were both sharing in the park. "It's your new admirer."

You tried to mask your enthusiasm. You were not formally courting Mr. Yoon (yet), and despite your ongoing flirtations, he had not confessed any serious intentions towards you.

"He is not my admirer-"

Ella scoffed. "Well he certainly never looks at any woman but you. Have you not noticed? Whenever you are in the room his eyes are always on you."

You bit your lip. "Do you really think so?"

"You should be careful, my friend. You know what they say about Mr. Yoon, he is quite the villain-"

"Yes, I know," you cut her off sharply. You disliked hearing Jeonghan spoken about that way. "I have not found anything villainous about his manners so far. He has been a perfect gentleman in his behaviour towards me."

Ella looked at you with surprise. "Miss Jeon, do you perhaps really have feelings for-"

She was interrupted by the approach of Mr. Yoon Jeonghan. To your surprise, Jeonghan was accompanied by your brother. Although the two men were indeed known to be friends and a stroll through the park was not unusual or remarkable, you knew better.

Wonwoo did not trouble himself to take afternoon strolls in the park for no good reason.

"What a lovely surprise Miss Jeon, Miss Williams," Mr. Yoon greeted you both pleasantly. "I see you ladies noticed that the weather was pleasant enough for a stroll. May we join you?"

Ella giggled. "Of course, we would never refuse the company of two gentlemen."

There was a subtle but evidently intentional manoeuvring that took place immediately upon Ella's invitation. The path was not wide enough for four people to walk side-by-side. Your brother squeezed into the gap beside Miss Williams, and left you to fall a little behind them with Jeonghan by your side.

"Miss Williams," your brother could be heard saying in front of you. "Could I persuade you to walk alongside the trees with me? I am afraid my eyes are rather sensitive to the sunlight and I would appreciate the shade."

Ella seemed surprised. "Oh- yes, of course, Mr. Jeon…"

They drifted a little further away and you felt your heartbeat quicken as you looked up at the handsome man that stood beside you. Jeonghan's hair gently ruffled in the afternoon breeze but his eyes stayed fixed firmly on you.

"Well," you said to him with a smile. "If you have persuaded Wonwoo to step into the park on a pleasant spring afternoon, then you must have something very important to say to me indeed," you teased.

Jeonghan chuckled. "Was it so evident?"

"You could have written to me, if you wished to convey something in confidence."

"I did not know that you wished for me to write to you," Jeonghan admitted lightly. "But all the same, I believe some things are best discussed in person. Including the question of whether you really wish for us to initiate a… written correspondence."

You flushed. He made it sound so intimate. Yoon Jeonghan left no room for doubt that it was only the most romantic of correspondences that he referred to.

"Then do tell me what has brought you- and my brother- here this afternoon," you questioned.

"It has not escaped my attention that over the last few weeks, you and I have been engaging in increasingly flirtatious conversations," Jeonghan began. He had a small smile on his face. "I am sure you know this- but you are the most beautiful, intelligent and striking woman of my acquaintance."

Your embarrassment was evident. It was a surprisingly straightforward compliment coming from Jeonghan. You could not think of any way to play it off in a teasing or light-hearted manner.

"T-thank you," you mumbled. "I am quite flattered that you hold me in such high regard."

"I hold you in excessively high regard," Jeonghan reassured you. "Which is why I do not wish for there to be any confusion or misunderstanding. My intentions- my advances towards you, however playful, have always been backed by honourable intentions."

"And what are these honourable intentions?" you asked quietly.

"I would very much like to begin a formal courtship with you, Miss Jeon. That would be the natural progression of our relationship. Unless I am sorely mistaken- you have perhaps been waiting for me to make such a request."

You could not lie.

You nodded.

Jeonghan sighed. "Perhaps I have been selfish. I indulged my affections and attraction towards you too openly. But the truth is, Miss Jeon, my current familial situation is… complicated. I fear that any woman I publicly court would become the subject of much negative attention and suffer public scorn."

You looked at him with surprise. "I do not understand. Is this regarding your sisters? Or your step-mother?"

"My step-mother has some very specific anxieties," Jeonghan admitted. "She is not an unkind woman but she is worried about her future, and my father failed to provide for her in his will. I have promised that I will provide for her for as long as she lives but she doesn't trust me."

You bit your lip. "I see."

"She has already painted me as a villain before the ton- a fact you are well aware of. Any woman I court or marry will suffer the same fate. She will accuse you of stealing from her and her daughters and tarnish your reputation. I do not want you to face her scorn. You are well-loved by the ton- and rightly so."

You took a deep breath and turned to look at Jeonghan. There was honesty in his eyes and worry; worry for you, you realised. He was worried about the impact his complicated family would have on your happiness and reputation.

"Mr. Yoon," you said slowly. "I will not pretend that my reputation means nothing to me. But there are things that I am prepared to sacrifice it for."

"You should not have to make such a sacrifice."

"I would rather not," you admitted. "But I must ask. Is there no way to resolve your step-mother's worries?"

"I have initiated proceedings to transfer property to her name," Jeonghan explained. "And to set up a trust for her. But there are legal complications and it is a lengthy process. Once my sister is finally married, my stepmother may feel more comfortable as she will be able to rely on her son-in-law for financial security. I worry that she may always perceive my efforts as underhanded."

"I-I see."

Jeonghan took a deep breath and took your hand gently in his. He glanced around the park furtively to make sure none of the other occupants were looking at you- and then quickly lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to your knuckles.

You were speechless. "I-I…"

"I do not know what to do, Miss Jeon. I agreed to become a villain to help my sister but I never imagined that I might fall in love, or that my beloved would have to share in my sacrifices. I cannot ask you to bear this burden for me. It may be years until it is fully resolved."

Your hand felt warm.

"Are you asking me to wait for you, Mr. Yoon?" you whispered.

"I do not presume to ask anything of you," Jeonghan told you gently. "I am yours. I shall do whatever you ask of me-without objection."

Your heart leapt. It was a strange feeling- perhaps you should have hoped for a more traditional confession, something along the lines of I will die unless you marry me, my love! but somehow this was even more romantic.

Mr. Yoon Jeonghan was not begging or pleading or persuading you.

No, he had simply placed his cards on the table and given you the power to make his next move.

It struck you in a sudden moment how much you loved this man. This handsome, selfless caring man with a mischievous streak who looked at you with his angelic face and intense eyes and lit a fire in your heart. He had given you more respect in this moment than most gentlemen would ever willingly offer a lady in their lifetime.

"Then ask me to court you," you whispered. "I believe we have both proven that we can be trusted to keep a secret."

Jeonghan smiled softly. "Is that what you wish? A secret courtship?"

"It would be the most thrilling thing we have done so far- and you stole my pearls the first time we spoke, so the standard was not particularly low to begin with."

Jeonghan laughed.

"Then it is done. You may prepare yourself to be passionately wooed, Miss Jeon- in secret."

—--------------------------------------------

Wonwoo was not pleased with the turn of events.

"Yes, I agreed to accompany him to the park so that he might speak to you about his intentions," your brother admitted. "But I did not expect that I would become a courier boy to deliver love letters back and forth while you both played at a clandestine dalliance."

You raised your eyebrows at your brother. "What did you expect?"

"That Jeonghan would either propose to you or end your flirtation."

"He will propose to me. Once his sister is married, and he has cleared his name in society," you replied simply.

"If you wish to court each other then you should do it with our parents permission," Wonwoo pressed, as though it was obvious. "Mother may be disappointed that you managed to choose the only man in the ton with a reputation for stealing dowries but surely she could be made to see reason eventually."

You sighed. "Wonwoo."

"What?"

"Your own reputation in society is hardly spotless enough. I overheard Viscount Hong's younger sister talking about you during a ladies' tea the other day. She used some select words to describe you, and none of them were pleasant. What did you do to offend her?"

Wonwoo flushed. "Do not speak to me of her. She is quite mad."

You laughed. "Miss Hong? But she is said to be a sweet little creature."

"You are changing the subject," Wonwoo accused. "I will deliver your love letters for now but when the time comes, I expect you will repay my debt."

"I would be delighted to deliver any love letters you wish to send."

Wonwoo sighed and turned back to his book while you giggled.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

It became necessary, in due course, to reveal your secret courtship to Ella Williams once you detected her increasing suspicion. She was surprisingly accepting of the news- and although you did not reveal the exact nature of Jeonghan’s familial secrets, you reassured her that Jeonghan was simply quite misunderstood.

“I cannot believe it,” Ella gushed, happy for you. “Has he declared his love for you yet?”

You hesitated. “Not in those exact words, no, but he has made his affections quite clear.”

“How shocking! To think that of all the eligible men in my book, you should have fallen in love with Mr Yoon Jeonghan! I had set my heart on Viscount Hong for you. But it is just as well; it appears that Joshua has made a proposal to a young lady and they are now engaged to be married next week.”

You raised an eyebrow with interest.

“Oh? Who is the fortunate young lady?”

“One of the elder Lee girls. It is so strange; she is not particularly beautiful, nor does she have a dowry worth boasting of. There are so many siblings in the Lee family, you know, the estate is stretched quite thin among them. But I suppose love can be unpredictable. Apparently Joshua has been smitten with Miss Lee for some time now,” Ella mused.

You giggled. “And what news of your dear Mr. Xu?”

“Oh!” Ella cried. “Do not speak to me of him, I am quite heartbroken. He resumes his travels in Asia next week, and he has promised to write to me regularly but you know how long it takes for letters to be delivered from overseas. I fear I shall not see him until the next season.”

Your smile faltered as the thought of the season nearing its end struck you.

“Yes… once the season ends Mr. Yoon shall return to his estate with his family for the winter.”

Ella smiled at you sympathetically. “Are you worried about him?”

“We see each other once or twice a week while we are both in London. That will not be possible once he returns to the countryside. I am sure he might try to meet me, but I am afraid that we shall to satisfy ourselves with letters in the meantime. I have always been so terrible at writing letters! I shall suffer the consequences now.”

"I am sure your courtship will last. Mr. Yoon does not seem like the kind of gentleman to give up what is important to him," Ella reassured you.

"I certainly hope not."

—-------------------------------------------------------

The evening before Jeonghan was set to leave for the countryside for the rest of the year, you had a brief moment alone with him in the gardens behind the assembly rooms. This secret rendez-vous was enabled, to your surprise, by Viscount Hong. He assured you and Jeonghan that he and Miss Lee (now newly Viscountess Hong) had used the tiny cove behind a clump of trees in the garden to have private conversations many times before.

You would have expected such scandalous behaviour from Kim Mingyu, perhaps, but certainly not from Viscount Hong.

In any case, you were not inclined to prod or complain.

"Do you promise to write to me every week?" you asked Jeonghan. He was smiling down at you, and his hands reached out to clasp yours tightly.

"I promise I will write," he reassured you.

"I will be extremely upset if you do not. If I do not receive a letter from you for more than a week, then I shall assume that you have fallen in love with someone else and mean to end our courtship," you insisted with a pout.

"That would be a fair assumption."

"Mr. Yoon!"

He laughed and boldly lifted his hand to stroke his thumb across your cheek. Your face became hot under his touch. It was an innocent but bold gesture and you struggled not to look too affected.

“Perhaps,” Jeonghan suggested boldly. “It would be easier for me to remember to write to you every week if you gave me a token of your affection- something to remember you by?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I hope you are not trying to swipe more of my jewellery.”

“Something more… intimate.”

“Such as?”

Jeonghan leaned closer and brought his lips near your ear. You could feel his warm breath on the side of your face and all your senses were suddenly flooded and overwhelmed with the physical proximity of this handsome and charming man.

“Let me have a lock of your hair, my love.”

You stared up at Jeonghan as his hand gently lifted a lock of your hair and he twirled his index finger around it. He never failed to surprise you; although you should have expected, knowing his mischievous nature, that it was only a matter of time until he suggested something so romantic and scandalous.

He lifted your hair to his lips and kissed it softly.

“Mr. Yoon,” you choked out, flustered.

“You had better start calling me Jeonghan, love. I hardly think that formalities will be required between us once I have placed this lock of your hair in my locket and tasted your sweet lips,” he replied.

Before you could even think to object, Jeonghan took both.

First, he leaned forward to press his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet and bold; he was gentle yet there was no hesitation in his movements. In response, you pressed yourself closer to him and returned the kiss. You would not see him for many months so this was hardly the time to act coy. You let your hands slide up into his tousled hair and melted into his passionate embrace.

After a prolonged embrace and many eager kisses, Jeonghan pulled back. You were both slightly out of breath. Your heart was racing and you found yourself instinctively leaning into him again, begging him for another kiss. But Jeonghan had other plans. He pulled out a small pocket-knife and with a single fluid movement, sliced off a tiny lock of your hair.

You stared at him as he opened a small locket and placed the lock inside of it.

“I will return this to you,” he whispered in your ear softly. “When I have a wedding ring to give you in return.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Then I will pray you return it soon.”

“I will, my love.”

—----------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

The winter was a difficult one. Jeonghan wrote to you regularly and even came to visit you once under the guise of visiting your brother. Yet it was incredibly difficult to be apart from him. You had never had much patience for sitting and writing letters, preferring the intimacy of conversation, and the secrecy of your courtship meant that you could not confide in anyone about how much you missed your lover.

(While your brother Wonwoo would begrudgingly carry your correspondence and pass messages to Jeonghan from you, he did not make for the best confidante.)

You spent every waking moment waiting for the upcoming season, and for Jeonghan’s return to London.

The moment finally arrived; you had been waiting all morning at the window to the upstairs library when you spotted him riding down the cobblestone street on his dark horse. Your heart leapt when Jeonghan dismounted in front of the entrance. You stood, dropping the knitting that you had been pretending to be doing.

Your father, sitting across the room at his desk, raised a questioning eyebrow at you.

“I-I left some of my sewing thread downstairs,” you explained vaguely before rushing out of the library and running down the stairs. You arrived just in time to see Jeonghan enter the lobby in his riding coat.

The butler bowed to him and conveyed his apologies.

“My regrets, Mr. Yoon,” the butler was saying to him politely. “But Mr, Jeon Wonwoo is not at home at present. Perhaps you may wish to return later this evening?”

Jeonghan looked up at you and his eyes widened when they met yours. Your heart leapt in delight at the sight of him and you could not bear to watch the butler send him away simply because your brother was not home. It had been months since you had spoken to him.

“Oh- I am sure Wonwoo will be back very soon,” you interrupted hurriedly. “Mr. Yoon can perhaps wait in the drawing room until my brother returns-”

"There is no need for that."

You whirled around at the sound of your father's voice. In your eagerness to see Jeonghan, you had not even realised that your father had followed you out of the library and down the stairs. He had a rather serious expression on his face.

You swallowed. "Father…"

"Mr. Yoon can come join me in the library. And you, my dear daughter, will be kind enough to wait downstairs."

You turned to Jeonghan who looked slightly alarmed, but nodded. You watched in silent horror as Jeonghan took off his hat and followed your father up the stairs.

Oh no.

This was not normal. Your father- much like your brother- rarely took an interest in people or company unless prompted to do so. There was no doubt in your mind that if your father wished to speak to Jeonghan alone, then your secret courtship had been discovered.

You turned to the butler desperately. "You must send word to my brother to come at once!"

The butler was startled. "Miss Jeon, are you-"

"Tell him to come immediately and send a servant upstairs to listen in on my father and Mr. Yoon's conversation in the library, I beg you!"

You paced the drawing room nervously for at least twenty minutes. There was no sign of Wonwoo, the servant that had gone upstairs to the library had never returned, and you had no option but to pace nervously up and down the room imagining all the worst possible situations. Would your father take down his hunting rifle and shoot Jeonghan? Would he challenge him to a duel? Perhaps it was nothing- perhaps your father had no idea of your courtship and simply wished to speak to Jeonghan about matters of business-

The large doors to the drawing room opened and Jeonghan entered alone.

Your eyes widened.

“What happened?”

Jeonghan looked slightly tense. He forced a smile when he saw you, and took both of your hands in his before guiding you to sit down in one of the armchair. He kneeled in front of your chair; entwined hands placed in your lap.

“Does he know?” you whispered.

“He… had his suspicions,” Jeonghan replied slowly. “It appears that when a woman who can rarely be persuaded to sit still long enough to pen down a quick note suddenly begins to spend hours locked in her room writing letters that she insists on delivering to the post office herself, other members of the family take notice.”

You flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I did not think it was right to lie to him. I told him the truth,” Jeonghan told you quietly.

“What did he say?”

“What any good father would have said upon making such a discovery.”

You frowned. “Now is not the time for games, Mr. Yoon Jeonghan-”

Jeonghan brought your entwined hands up to his lips and he kissed your knuckles softly before looking up at you with a playful smile. His dark eyes twinkled in the bright morning light that streamed through the curtains.

“Miss Jeon… would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: If you want to see the fallout of this proposal from Jeonghan's sister's perspective, then go read 'Patience' lmao.

Thank you so much again for all your support! I'm shocked by how many notes my chapter are receiving considering that I barely started my blog a month ago and thank you SO MUCH to everyone that reads, likes, reblogs or leaves a comment. I can be a little flaky but this is one series I really hope to finish and it's really encouraging that people seem to enjoy it too.

I might put up a poll on my blog to decide which member I write next- feel free to check it out later!

And as always, feel free to leave any feedback or thoughts. I'm not sensitive lol.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan series #seventeen series #jeonghan x reader #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #regency!au #seventeen fanfiction #svt fluff #svt imagines

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ukranianacearo · 21 days

Text

"Mother", a strong word

Part 2 Part 3

F!reader

Word count: almost 4k

Mention of Innocent zero's real name.

Tw: Mentions of starvation, enslavement (like what Russian empire did to Ukrainians back in 18-19th centuries), mentions of blood, mentions of abuse, mentions of birth, harrasing, and attempts at SA and I think that's all. Please, do inform me if you see more.

Pairing: romantically there's none, but reader has to marry Innocent zero.

Genre(?): angst.

Tags: @aiscreamcake (I thought you would be interested)

Author's note: This has been rotting in my brain for over a week and @fellow-anime-weeb927 post only strengthened this lol. Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't recheck it before posting and English isn't my first language. More under cut.

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

Escaping the empire would be dangerous and risky. But even death would be better than what you had to endure. Your nation has been occupied and enslaved by another nation for centuries already, poisoning your people's minds, destroying your culture and language and killing those who were against the system. You weren't a person. At least wasn't considered one. Your lord, the one who owned your family, was a cruel man. Not only towards you and your family, but even to his own kids and his ill wife. When times got tough even for him, you were only 5. His wife's condition worsened, she got bedridden; there even was talks about her possible death. It was the first time he tried forcing himself on you. Fortunately for you, you escaped. Times got worse with the arrival of international market. Selling got worse and so did your family's condition. Your lord paid less and less, to the point where your family starved for days, sometimes even weeks. The first to die was your youngest brother; he was only 3 years old when he died of starvation, you were 6. Two months later, your mother died. The same cause, the same ground buried her. There has started to run rumors about the lord marrying you, since his wife will die soon and he had kids to take care of. Your father had no say in it, after all, you and your family are nothing more, but his property.

You were 7, your oldest brother died at the age of 17. He too, died of starvation. After a few months, your last brother died, at the age of 16. You and your father were devastated, but you only could bury your brother next to your other two brother and your mother. One of the days, you heard your lord talking with his friends about some ships taking people to another land, to another country. But, it was really risky, you could die from any cause there; not that it mattered to you, you could never even imagine having the money to buy tickets for you and your father. So you just continued working. A year passed, then another and now you're 9. One of the evenings, your father didn't come back and you started worrying. You had nowhere to go and seek him, but the lord's house. When you arrived at the door of the house, it was open and you could see your father and the lord talking about something. While trying to focus on what they were saying, you leaned slightly against the door, making sure it didn't move nor made any sound. It was muffled, but you could understand that they were discussing your marriage with the lord. Your father tried to reason that you were just too young for the lord, you only 9, after all. But the lord didn't care.

That day, you lost your father and killed your lord. That day was also the second time your lord trying to force himself on you.

You buried your father next to the graves of your family members the best you could. It was the middle of the night and lord's kids were sleeping in their respective homes, since most of them were old enough to have it. Not caring about lord's dead corpse laying on the floor of his house, you took the money there was; you didn't know how much a ticket to the other country would cost, but even if you had more than needed, it was better to have more than less.

...

The travel wasn't pleasant at all, but you finally was here. Most people at the port called it The Magic Empire. You didn't know if it was because there was actually magic and people could use it without being punished or if it was because people's dreams and wishes would be satisfied. Noticing that many people had some lines on their faces, you didn't want to stick out so you decided to use your necklace. Clenching it in your hand you increased the zone affected by it. Feeling their magic power being stored in the necklace, you changed the course and way of the magic in the necklace to create an illusion of a mark similar to the people around you. As you put the hood of medieval cloak on your head, you start going in the city; the cloak covering your figure completely, hiding the broken clothes you wore; a pair of pants and a T-shirt.

...

In the past 5 months you lived in the Magic Realm, as people from here called it. You were fortunate enough to know the language that people speak here, since you learned it from a dictionary someone threw out while you were still living in your home country. But, life was still challenging, of course. Although, 'challenging' would be an underrating. This realm worked such as higher your magic power - higher your status. So, you had to lie, to live a lie; you didn't have your own magic, you only could use or manipulate magic that you 'stole' with the necklaces. If you stole it by defeating a person, that person's magic was copied by one of the necklaces, and if you 'stole' it by just increasing the area that was under the necklaces' cancellation of magic, you could use a person's magic for as long as they were in the area + a certain amount of time after they were out. In these past month you have worked as anything you could: cleaning people's shoes, selling newspaper, running errands for people, etc... You did your best and most of the errands were done perfectly, and your employers were satisfied with your work, paying you a bonus every now and then. You tried to save as much as possible while still eating something at least once a day. Your plan was to go to a middle magic school, but to do so you would need to deceive many people and even the government, so that they could think that you had actually alive parents, at least. For that, you would need to defeat someone who possessed a mind controlling power and you only had three years to do so: that's when middle school start.

...

It was easier than you thought. That boy really thought he could use you as a punching bag, but ironically, he was the one laying on the cold and dusty ground. Now, you're one step closer to succeeding.

...

This mind controlling magic was actually something. You carefully created a well written story for your play, the realm your stage and everyone the audience. The school you wanted to go accepted you, just like you planned. And thus, the played started.

...

No one has suspected a thing. Which feels kind of weird. But you decide to continue the show, there's nothing else to do.

...

The middle school was good, it had bedrooms for every pair of students, a kitchen and many more things. Just a perfect entrance of a grand show.

...

Few years past by, and it's time to decide the academy where you'll go. There were three options, the ones that will appreciate the show. Easton Magic Academy, Walkis Magic Academy and Saint Ars Holy Magic Academy; in Saint Ars, rules are most important thing and rule breakers are punished harshly. Definitely not for you: you would be considered a criminal at this point. Walkis focused only on strength which is also not the best, tho this academy produced the most divine visionaries at this point. So, you're left with Easton Magic academy.

...

The entrance exam was pretty easy. After that you were assigned to the Orca dorm. Not bad. You can work with this.

...

Eyes. No matter where you went, they followed you, like the hunting past. Were you in class, in the kitchen, training or even in the deep past, you remember eyes following you like a predator. When you were in middle magic academy, you didn't have time to ponder about it at all. Nor when you were doing errands for someone to earn extra money. Sometimes, when you tried to look at the one who was the person with such intense curiosity, you only saw white hair of a passerby, who you guessed was your classmate. Trying to follow that person was impossible, it's like they disappeared the moment you approached the place where magic lingered the most. It haunted you. You had a guess who it was, but with no evidence, you could do nothing, but try to be careful around that person. Cyril Marcus. He was the only one who had those long white locks. And his magic... Rather he used basic spells or his personal time magic or even if he didn't use any at all, you could always sense that difference between his magic and the magic of other people. When a person's potential is great in terms of magic, you can sense their magic differently. But this scared you very much. Even if you knew that your necklaces worked on him as well, you were scared. Better treat a gun as a loaded gun and not as a non loaded one. He seemed much eager to fight against you in the tournament for divine visionaries' candidates.

...

Your fight against him just ended. You won. After all, he was nothing without his magic. But, in your opinion, he was more testing you than fighting you. Right now, it was break time before continuing with the tournament. As you sat on one of the couches in the room, you clenched the necklace in your hand. The other three core necklaces were still deep inside your skin, in the same spot, even after all these years. The square body of the necklaces had some difficult artistic style. You still couldn't figure out which one exactly, but it resembled the baroque style very much. The black hook that was on one of the edges of every body wasn't as delicate as it seemed, just like the black chain that went through it, embracing your neck loosely.

-"You seemed so brave out there, but look at you now." - You snapped your head towards him, the look of shock on your face making him chuckle. His mocking tone didn't help, as it made you more uncomfortable. But you were used to the feeling, so you didn't let it show just like always. - "Don't look at me like that, it makes me think that you didn't expect me." - Deciding to play safe you calmed down your expression to a neutral one and let go of the necklace.

- "What do you want?" - There was no need for chit chat, especially between you two. You two weren't on bad terms exactly, but you weren't friends either. Still, your suspicion about him being the person who stalks you was present on your mind.

- "You're so straightforward, as always."

- "It's better to save the time and energy used to talk about nothing." - As you crossed you arms across your chest while Cyril smiled in that typical sly smile, although to you, it looked more like a smirk.

- "This...show that you play in front of everyone is quite the spectacle. I must admit, it took me a while to see the truth."

- "What are you talking about?" - In this type of situations it's better to play dumb. You couldn't afford for the show to end just yet. It would be a fiasco. Anyway, how did he figure it out? Has he been stalking you for so long just because of that? You made sure he couldn't see your thoughts on your face.

- "Don't play dumb. We both know what I'm talking about. At first I thought you were just a 'Disgraceful Mage', just to find out later that you are magicless. I must admit, your cover is good enough to make me think about you and your magic for quite the years. This fight in particular has confirmed my suspicion. Your necklace isn't just an accessory, am I right?" - His words froze you as he pointed at your necklace. The situation got to the point where you couldn't just deny your way out.

- "It would have been better if you continued thinking that I was a 'Disgraceful Mage'..." - You mumbled, making Cyril look at you with a curious smirk. - "What do you want from me? You wouldn't be here just to talk with me, would you?" - You tried to stay calm, but it was the first time someone saw past your costume. Instead of the character in the play, he saw the actor. You already realized why he was going in circles while fighting. He was out of the zone affected by the necklace, so he still could see magic power. Truly, that potential you saw in him would be enough to end your show.

- "Don't worry that much, I wouldn't want for the show to end just yet. After all, you could call me the most loyal fan of your spectacle. Who else would sit and watch it, while seeing your true form and not the character's?" - It was as is he read your thoughts with magic, although it was impossible, your necklace still worked around you. - "I don't mind your magicless nature, but what about others?" - He slowly walked closer and sat on the couch in front of you - "I'm sure you know they wouldn't accept you if they knew, otherwise you wouldn't be putting this good of a performance. How convenient that I have just the offer for you, wouldn't you say so? You see, I plan on becoming the perfect human, but for that I need to find more knowledge and strong allies."

- "What do I have to do with all of that?" - The palms of your hands have started sweating, but you still somehow managed to act calm enough. Hearing your words, Cyril smirked slyly and put his leg on the other.

- "We both know that magic users tend to rely very much on magic - myself included - and you're someone who shifts their situation a lot with just a lift of your hand. Or even without it. As years went on, you taught yourself to manipulate that necklace very well. When the time will come, I want you to join my association and plan. Of course, I, on my end, will make sure the government won't get you." - It was tempting, but the actor can't just disappear from the stage, it wouldn't be fair. You clenched your left wrist with your hand as you looked at him a bit troubled, trying to stay calm. Seeing your hesitation, Cyril chucked. - "Don't worry. I will give you time to think about it. But when I'll come for an answer, I hope you'll have it." - He said as he got up, walking towards the door in his usual slow and elegant way. You wanted to answer, say at least something. But it felt as if the words got stuck in your throat, sinking in your stomach, leaving you alone with your thoughts haunting you, trying to come up with something, anything. - "So long, dear actress." - He left the room as the voice of a commentator announced the break time over. You were left alone, looking at the floor while your thoughts got to you. How could you afford such a mistake? Your performance was supposed to be perfect, without even the slightest flaw. Clenching the necklace you tried not to let emotions get the best of you. Even if there was a break between the acts, the actor shouldn't forgot that they're an actor. People are supposed to only see the character that they portrait, not the person behind it. One person in the audience saw the actor as they are, but that shouldn't matter. Especially when the person continues to watch the show peacefully.

...

- "Tell me, Cell war," - You started while watching your 'son' in the tank, or better say, in an incubator. Cell war, who was a creation of Innocent zero, turned to look at you patiently, waiting for you to continue. In the past years, Cyril Innocent zero really weird choice of name got to know that for achieving his goal to become "The Perfect Human", he needed six hearts of blood related family. That's how you got to this scene of the show. The audience changed, but the actor and that one specific person stayed the same people, probably. He mixed his DNA with your to create a life. You promised yourself that no matter what, your 'sons' won't live as bad or even worse than you; you would not allowe it as long as you breathe. - "How do you feel about his plan?"

- "If it's something 'father' wants, then it should be done."

...

- "You shouldn't be up this late." - You said in a scolding voice while standing behind the four young boys that stood outside your bedroom door.

- "Mother!" - They four said in unison, as they turned around to look at you. Fanim and Delisaster immediately went to hug you by your legs, since they didn't reach any higher yet, while Doom and Epidem stood by your sides taking your hands in theirs. They all seemed very exited and happy to see you again.

- "We wanted to see you the day you came back from this mission, so we stayed up." - Doom explained in a shy manner. You patted their heads as you hummed, giving a sign of acknowledgement.

- "That's very sweet of you, boys. But you shouldn't lose sleep just because of me. Sleep is fundamental for your health." - You answered in a caring voice, you truly couldn't be angry at them for long. Hearing your words, they looked between each other and then all looked at you.

- "But, mother is also very important for our health." - Delisaster started.

- "You train and play with us." - Doom continued.

- "You don't get angry at us for the slightest mistake and explain everything that we ask you to." - then Fanim continued.

- "And you give us all kinds of sweets." - Epidem finished. You were shocked. All of them were still so young, but understood so much. It wasn't uncommon in your experience, many kids you knew from the streets when you were younger had to grow up too soon - yourself included. But these four boys didn't live that life. Your best guess was that they were so aware of everything because of Innocent zero, their father. You smiled softly at them as you hugged them all.

- "What would I do without you guys, hm?" - They basked in your attention. - "But you gotta go to sleep now, it's already late." - Hearing that they whined in unison, but obeyed and you guided them to their rooms.

...

- "Did you see mother?" - Delisaster asked Doom, as the later was sharpening his sword. The former couldn't find you for a while now and he really wanted to show you one his new tricks with his pole arms.

- "Did you not know yet? She fell into a coma." - Doom tried to act as calm as possible, but in reality he was devastated. The fact that you just fainted out of nowhere wasn't positive at all, especially for the sons. There was no logical explanation for this and no one could figure it out. The ones who were probably affected the least were Domina and Mash, who were still too young to understand it. The room fell into silence's embrace as Delisaster tried to process the devastating information he just learned.

...

- "Domina, you should be useful. That's what mother and I would want. You understand, right?" - His sly tone of voice echoed in the small dark room that could barely be called a bedroom. He stood in front of Domina, looking at the small boy from his height. - "We must do it so that mother can wake up. Do you want her to wake up? Domina."

- "Yes, father." - The small boy looked pitiful. His pink-ish hair was cut just above his shoulders with bangs covering his eyebrows. He was just around 5 years old, yet he seemed as if he didn't eat enough. Domina's was determined to do anything to help his mother regain consciousness and make his father proud. What he didn't understand was that, he shouldn't be the one to fight for it.

...

- "I see you still don't understand, Mash Burndead. If you continue to fight against it, mother won't wake up." - Doom said as he blocked one of Mash's punches.

- "I don't know that mother much, but I'm sure that destroying the world won't help wake her up." - Mash answered in a usual monotone voice as he punched Doom in the abdomen.

...

- "Who is she?" - asked a tall man with white hair and a big sword at his hip.

- "She was retrieved from the castle. Supposedly Innocent zero mixted his DNA with hers to create the six sons. Her name is [Y/N] [L/N]. She studied in Easton Magic Academy back in the days alongside me and Innocent zero. Was reported missing by some acquaintances after graduation. Later on was discovered that she lied to the government, a lot." - Another tall and old man with grey hair answered.

- "So she's also Mash's biological mother... I wonder why she joined Innocent zero in his plan." - The tall man with the sword murmured.

- "I'm sure Innocent zero had some cards in his sleeves to play to manipulate her. She wouldn't go for such length just because of someone else's desires. Especially Innocent zero's, she couldn't care less about the man."

- "Maybe she was in love with him." - The tall man with the sword suggested turning his head slightly to look at the old man. Right after the man finished his sentence, the old one started laughing; when he finished laughing he sighed and started talking.

- "That's impossible, Kaldo. Not even love potions could make her feel something so deep. She herself said that she was unable to feel such love since birth; her brain lacked in that part. I guess she had a secret that the world shouldn't know and Innocent zero knew it."

- "Like what?" - the curiosity got the better out of the man with the sword.

- "Hmm, I don't know. We should ask her after she wakes up. For now, call Mash; I wanna talk with him." - The man with the sword bowed and walked out of the door, while the old man continued looking at the woman in the nurse bed. - "Mother, such a strong word, huh..."

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

And that's it :D I hope you enjoyed this fanfic. If you want to be added into the tag list, please comment.

#mashle x reader #mashle: magic and muscles #mashle #x reader #anime #anime x reader #kaldo gehenna #mashle kaldo #innocent zero #innocent zero x reader #mash #finn ames #rayne ames #lance crown #lemon irvine #dot barrett

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2kmps · 3 months

Text

SMITTEN

dammon x reader | 2.5k

story summary; all it took was an argument with your party leader and an incident of misfortune for dammon to realize he was smitten with you.

story warnings; huge spoilers for act 1 & 2 of baldur's gate 3, mentions of burns and cuts, implication of dammon and mc drinking before a smooch, mc is not tav, no pronouns or descriptions used. very briefly proofread.

if you'd like a part two, please interact & reblog! ❤️

No one knew the time of day as black, tense air splintered those in fitful slumber into wakefulness that made their hearts hammer and bodies cold. There were shouts coming from outside the Last Light Inn, an unwelcome disturbance in these awful, glum days encompassed by death, shadow, and cries of beasts beyond Isobel’s barrier.

Dammon had been one of the first inquisitive souls on scene, already hammering away in his makeshift forge at some hour, surrounded by glowing iron, hot coals, and the smell of ox shit lingering over his workspace like a smoky cloud embedding its malodor into any pororous surface. As long as he stayed busy, deafened himself to all but the sting of metal, vibrations from his hammer memorized deep into his marrow, gave himself to the roar of the furnace—he didn't mind anything else, didn't think about his exhaustion, nor the fear that coiled his spine at every uncertainty around him.

But, he recognized your voice above the fierceness of his fire—knew the one retaliating your indignance just the same. He was drawn to it, leaving his tools by the anvil to step out towards the dilapidated stonework at the center of this improvised settlement, an old water fountain that once was beautiful artistry before the Shadow-Curse.

“I will not be cast aside! I will not be abandoned here to die, Dreston!” you were borderline hysterical, arms strewn about you wildly as you shouted. It was clear no one in your company wanted to feel the venom spitting from your throat. “I survived the crèche—I was integral to us all making it out alive! My abilities to heal are unparalleled, how can you just—”

“They need someone here,” said the tall drow at the core of your ire, leader of your motley crew. “Isobel needs to focus on the barrier. Someone needs to be able to heal the wounded.”

“They have a druid! They don't need me!” you tried again, rage weakening as your voice cracked and eyes gained a watery luster that you blinked back. “I've already done so much for the group. Do you think I'm useless on the battlefield? Is it because I'm not a druid like Halsin? A cleric like Shadowheart? Karlach, speak for me!”

You could've looked through Dreston at that moment and Karlach would've felt the desperation of your stare. She looked towards the ground, pushing stones with her boots. It was so drastically different from how she had been helping you with adjustments to your new armor just hours ago, laying hands everywhere now that she could thanks to Dammon

None of the others spoke for you, either. It was admission of guilt, silent consensus that you were to stay behind here and die if the barrier fell. You couldn't believe it.

“We’ll seek your aid again once we're en route to Baldur’s Gate,” Dreston said, his finality and firmness making words stick in your throat, jaws so tight your teeth could shatter. “Not a moment before. If you leave the barrier, what befalls you is of your own consequence. Protect these people here and wait for us.”

You spat at his feet, wiped your mouth, and then your tears before stalking off until you were far out of sight and alone.

Dammon stayed for the exchange and watched you go, a heart wrenching sight in his mind to be robbed of the love and passion you lived for. Adventuring and healing for you; the smithy and embers for him. Still, he never remembered you with such a temper, at least not one so outward, but these cursed lands had a way of bringing out the worst in everyone.

He had seen it many times over already—in others, in himself as well. Emerald Grove had been a perilous time just as this, but with the light of sunrise and sunset swathing him in some sort of feign comfort. This was not the same, there was no ease except what he knew with flame and steel and heavy hammer.

Still, back then, when he had met you the first time when acquiesced to eradicate the goblin hoards, you were different—brighter, skin aglow beautifully, eyes so radiant and divine. He remembered finding his gaze shifting to you more times than not, catching a jagged end of Dreston’s annoyance when he needed to repeat himself once or twice.

Dammon found it hard to focus in those days until your departure for the goblin camp, and that relief once you were gone had followed until now with your reappearance here at the Last Light Inn.

Now, he had to ask himself why he was standing before Dreston with an approachable smile, hoping he didn't fall on the receiving end of his bad spirits, and spoke his fate aloud:

“Don't worry, I'll keep a watchful eye out.”

He had assigned himself as your custodian like it was nothing, like you actually needed one in the first place. Dreston never mentioned it to you, probably for the best because your foul mood sat on your heels for many days thereafter. It took nearly a week to rouse you out of that state well enough to even visit him at his forge again.

“How are you holding up, Dammon?” you had asked with surprising calm, a similar sort of placidity you had when you'd first met. “It can't be easy being in this place. I keep looking at the barrier, expecting something to happen.”

“I can tell, you look tense”—he dunked red, searing iron into a vat of water and walked away as steam rose and hissed while it cooled—”Given the circumstances, I can't say I'm any worse than anyone else. If I worry, I hammer; if I can't sleep, I hammer. That's enough for me.”

You shared a smile with him, eyes wavering from his piercing blue to the arsenal of newly forged weapons he had managed to craft in a single night. He hadn't slept at all, but hadn't felt it until this moment.

“Don't forget to rest or you'll be one of the unfortunates lying unconscious on a bed that I have to take care of.” You said with a certain playfulness, a certain amount of snide and seriousness that he wasn't sure how to respond to. However, you gave a large logbook in your arm a pat. “I keep a record of everyone I've ever cared for—methods and medicine administered. Everything. I'd like to not add you to it.”

Dammon was a new entry in your logs a few weeks later, as it turned out. Misfortune seemed to torture everyone here beneath Isobel’s barrier, and he was not immune despite believing, foolishly, that losing himself to his projects would save him forever.

“Tell me what happened,” you already had an inked quill readied, a crisp, empty page dedicated to him. “The sooner you do, the sooner I can patch you up.”

For once, the makeshift infirmary sat barren besides the pair of you. It had originally been the bedchambers for weary travelers once upon a time, modified into a strategy room for Counsellor Florrick, and then finally commandeered as an infirmary by you and Isobel to bring some temporary sense of normalcy.

Jaheira let you have that small victory.

“Well,” Dammon wasn't sure what all to tell you that was necessary. It had all been an accident—a ridiculous oversight on his part, a disrespect to his craft and the fires of his forge. “You see—I, well, it's been a few days since I've slept. It's been difficult with those ravens constantly taking blows to the barrier. So, I've spent my time hammering away. Gets my mind off of things, off of everything.”

All went silent but the scrawl of your quill upon yellow parchment, faithfully recording his words verbatim. He waited for the feather to fall flat against your hands and eyes to rise to his before continuing:

“Honestly, it was just a freakish thing—a raven struck the barrier, startled that strange ox they have in the stable and I… my hammer missed and the sword I was working on came back on me. I had just taken out of the fire. Infernal blood I may have, I'm not immune to burns and cuts from my own craft it seems.”

Dammon tried to lighten the severity of his embarrassment with a laugh, hoping it would make that harsh crease between your brows smooth out. Seeing you worry over him did not fill him with a buzz of delight, but feeling your cold hands rest over his injured one did.

“Luckily it isn't too bad. Tiefling reflexes are impossibly good.” You sounded impressed, careful as you drew his hand closer, turning it whatever which way you pleased and he allowed it. He wasn't fond of the cold, but found himself reveling the magic that gushed out from your palms and soothed the burnt flesh on the back of his hand. “It'll be an easy enough fix, but, Dammon, you'll have to stay here and rest. You're not to return to your forge until you do. Understood?”

Perhaps, at a different time, such a demand would be reprimanded. To take a blacksmith from his forge is to take a healer from their potions and herbs—it would've at least aroused some frustration, but now, as he there on the edge of a worn mattress with your frigid hands caressing his scorched skin, wrapped in soft white light that reminded him of the long lost sun, he didn't refuse you and didn't think he ever could.

“Amazing,” he breathed out once he was awash in relief from his agony. The blistered, lacerated flesh from his own creation had closed and disappeared. Only the memory remained now, and the sensation of one of your hands hovering over his open palm. “You're no cleric or druid yet you can utilize magic like that. I've never seen the like.”

“Hopefully you never will again,” came your response, this time with much lightness and satisfaction. “How does it feel? Is there any pain remaining? I treat certain wounds traditionally with herbs and potions, but I know burns are in a league all their own.”

Dammon met the space of your palm facing his, fingers closing around you until the ridges of his well-earned calluses pressed warmth into your skin. Yours had a roughness about them as well without the same sinew and narrow bones and nails as him. There was a new sensation that struck him at that moment, like a jogged memory, a renewal of something once forgotten.

This simple touch reminded him of how much he had forced it away since Elturel was swallowed into Avernus—how much of his being now belonged to survival, and whatever was left was spent flattening iron with a hammer so his mind didn't escape him.

“I feel right, thanks to you.” Dammon said in soft, vulnerable tones that made flounder for words and withdraw your hand in a single, sharp motion.

You cleared your throat once and then twice more, closing your sizable book of records and rose from your chair. “Good! Good! I'll—I’m glad to hear it. I'll just step out so you can rest. Sleep well, Dammon.”

He did not rest for a long time because his thoughts were full of you, and that's where they stayed everyday afterward while he worked in the heat of his forge. It became easier to bear the ominous darkness that swirled around the barrier, a mere splinter in concentration away from consuming him and everyone else within.

Your company was a beacon of light to him in these terrible days, something he looked forward to after however many indeterminate hours clanging away on his anvil. He occupied a space next to you at the bar most times, some old beer in a mug that had lost its froth, listening to the dwarves among the settlement drunkenly, vivaciously explain their grand exploits while Alfira made up new lyrics to the strum of her lute.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked this a few times a day, a midday, an evening, a night, because there wasn't much else to do or to ask. But, right now, he was feeling bored and courageous with a pint in him, “Would you like to take a walk? I don't think the dwarves are telling stories we haven't already heard once every night the last tenday.”

You didn't disagree and went with him to make laps along the barrier. There was nothing new about this, either. You could walk the perimeter of the settlement with a blindfold on at this point and never snag a stone, stumble, or catch a briar on your sleeve. Dammon always stayed in stride with you despite his height, always kept himself at a decent distance from you despite how much he wished otherwise.

“What will you do once we get to Baldur’s Gate, Dammon? Hm?” It was a familiar question, one usually forgotten after a glass or two of wine in you. “I’m thinking of telling Dreston to piss off and working as an apothecary. Get some stability in my life, y'know?”

“It’d be good work for you.” He understood that desire for something solid, a safe life. “I’ve realized through all of this that I'm not the adventuring sort. I like my hammer. I like my forge; I like a bed at the end of a long day. I like—”

Dammon was quick with a glance down at you while walking, arms close and brushing. His heart was a growing drumbeat in his ears. “I like the idea of coming home to someone, to share my bed with. After all this, that sounds like a luxury—a dream.”

“Oh~” you put a hand near your lips, pretending to hide a scandalous smile. “So you are the marrying type. A couple of us were talking about that the other day, gossiping about who’d end up married or die alone in a bottle.”

Dammon let a smile grow, fingers edging nearer to your own until he could curl one or two with his. “I’d say the latter is quite extreme.”

Your voice trailed but you didn't pull away, not even as you were led away from the prying eyes of patrolling Harpers into dark foliage behind low hanging trees. It was sufficiently hot behind your ears, beneath your layers of thin clothes, and your throat tightened in your effort to look up at him.

His ribs were a prison for his heart, a good thing in this case as he tucked a hand against your neck and kissed you. He kissed you until the uncertainty fell away, until he felt your hands climb the length of his arms and every touch grew with assurance, fostering the beginning of a new dream.

a/n: possibly a part two if y'all let me know you like this??? so, pls interact and reblog to let me know!

this is also based off of my headcanons for tieflings that they're very loyal once they trust you—but they also fall h a r d.

it won't turn into anything big since I have my major projects going on in the background, but I'm just obsessed with dammon atm and figured the best way to get him out of my system was to write about him 💀. a second part would probs be smut.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 dammon x reader #bg3 dammon x you #dammon x reader #dammon x you #dammon x tav #bg3 dammon x tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate dammon #2k writes

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therealvinelle · 2 months

Note

Would Alice tried to have stopped the sinking of the titanic?

This ask fills me with such restrained joy, you have no idea. Suffice to say that last time I posted about the RMS Titanic, expecting a deluge of asks wanting to hear all about the ship, I received a single "are you autistic?" anon instead.

Good times.

That being said:

Why did the RMS Titanic sink?

A non-comprehensive, very brief overview!

This is important if we're answering the question of whether Alice Cullen, a psychic whose gift kicks in when people whose life impacts hers make decisions, could predict the Titanic sinking in time to prevent it.

To that end I will look at some of the human decisions that led to the RMS Titanic sinking.

(TLDR: the ship sank due to the wrath of God. This much bad luck, this many coincidences, and so many minor decisions and insignificant mistakes all leading up to the loss of fifteen hundred lives can only be chalked up to God smiting the ship. The RMS Titanic didn't stand a chance, Alice could not have stopped this.)

1. The hull of the RMS Olympic is designed to have multiple compartments (The RMS Olympic, for the ignorants, was the RMS Titanic's precursor and sister ship. Minor alterations were made to the RMS Titanic, such as less open space but ultimately larger size, but they were otherwise nearly identical.) The hull design was a large cause of the confidence in the Titanic. The hull had sixteen watertight cells, separated by transverse bulkheads (a bulkhead is a partition wall on a ship that prevents flooding and stiffens the hull, that it's transverse means it extends from side to side on the ship) and the idea was that up to two of these could flood without compromising the ship. The trouble was this: they weren't actually watertight. The first four cells interacted with the higher levels, where the passengers were, and safety was sacrificed for comfort. Only bulkheads D through O were actually watertight. More worryingly, for a cell to be watertight, the top has to be closed as well, forming a cube. It wasn't, and as the ship was struck across the side, along the front where the bulkheads weren't waterproof, just under the waterline, several compartments were flooded right away, dooming the ship.

(Source and image courtesy. I also used this source.)

The design choices here were the process of long and arduous process, and started with the RMS Olympic, many years before the Titanic's construction even began, but while Alice at times has incredibly vague, ahead-of-time, "we've moved to Forks... I should get Edward a sleeveless shirt", decisions, this decision in no way concerns her. Alice would not see this ahead of time, and if she did there would be very little she could do about it.

2. The wrong type of iron rivets are used for parts of the hull The iron rivets used for the bow and stern that held the hull plates together were not optimized for the freezing Atlantic temperatures, causing them to snap when they were put under strain. The iceberg happened to strike the bow.

The iceberg may have opened a tear in the ship's hull, but the hull plates falling off as a result was the result of choice of material (the same as was made with the RMS Olympic and the RMS Olympic was fine! She survived several crashes without any plates falling off! Keyword being, as I understand, her crashes were not in sub-freezing Atlantic temperatures) and another that neither humans nor Alice would have seen coming.

Just really, incredibly, bad luck.

3. The man who had the key to the cupboard hold the ship's binoculars that the scouts in the crow's nest would use to spot icebergs, was on leave and the guy replacing him didn't get the keys before the RMS Titanic left port

What I just said on the headline.

Several small human decisions happening here, none of which Alice would see because none of them lead directly to the ship sinking. They would not have an actual impact until the iceberg spotters are sent out to scout for icebergs, at which point they realize they're spending their night playing a game of "is that an optical illusion or an iceberg?"

Even at that point, Alice isn't going to see anything because the scouts did spot the iceberg, the problem was the timing of when they spotted it. Had they had binoculars the timing would have been different and the ship would not have sunk, but even without them the ship might not have sunk.

4. The ship is warned about an iceberg: the captain doesn't get the memo

Icebergs were a known danger in the area at this time of year, and ships would warn one another about particularly hazardous ones. 1912 happened to be a year of unusually many icebergs, leading to (and don't quote me on this part because I'm going off memory) the captain taking a different route, hoping to evade them. Sadly, the fateful iceberg had also gone off route, where it was spotted by the SS Mesaba. The SS Mesaba warned the RMS Titanic, but Jack Philips (a hero who alongside his colleague is to thank for there being any survivors at all that night) made a typing error, changing the telegram tag from "MSG" to "MXG". "MSG" would have made the telegram urgent and seen it delivered straight to the navigation officer, "MXG" saw it discarded. (source (I also used this source for double checking other things in this post))

This isn't a decision, it was a mistake: Alice would not see this.

5. The iceberg is spotted and the scouts sound the alarm

Bad decision: the RMS Titanic was headed straight towards the iceberg and built to withstand collisions. Had it crashed bow first, only the first hull would have flooded (as RMS Olympic had proven was indeed survivable) and the ship would in every likelihood have been perfectly fine, if in need of repairs.

By reporting the iceberg, however, and only moments before impact, the scouts triggered the next bullet point.

(And no, Alice isn't seeing them either, because it's not the scouts' decision that sinks the ship. Remember, she sees only direct outcomes. The scouts' decision leads to other people trying to make the right decision in time, and she can't see what that decision will be, nor what its outcome will be, until that decision has been made.)

6. First Officer Murdoch gives the order to redirect the ship's course

Rather than crash directly into the iceberg, First Officer Murdoch hoped to avoid the iceberg altogether. He is widely believed to have ordered the ship to move "Hard a-starboard", and the ship pivoted at exactly the wrong time. The ship is struck along the side, opening multiple compartments along the front and dooming the ship.

(Source and image credit)

That decision Alice would have seen had she been aboard, but things happened so quickly I don't think there's anything she could have done by that point.

Alice does not prevent anything and at best gets to save a few people by retrieving collapsible A, a lifeboat which floated off the deck shortly before the ship sank, and help with collapsible B, which floated upside down and had survivors clinging to its hull(x).

Special source credit to this documentary.

Those interested should also check out this very short youtube animation of the ship's sinking, just ignore James Cameron's "badabing badabom" and you're good. If you're a real one, this real time rendition of the ship sinking is really good, impeccable research and to my recollection not sensationalist the way a lot of these real time sinking of a given ship tend to be (and I know that's an incredibly damning sentence).

Also: I can't stress enough this list of reasons why the RMS Titanic sank is non-exhaustive! It is however the ones coming to mind now and that are various levels of man-made and therefore possible, in theory, for Alice's gift to pick up on.

#rms titanic #twilight #twilight renaissance #alice cullen #long post

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atom-writings · 2 months

Note

hello! how would netherlands, luxembourg and russia like to spend their honeymoon with their s/o? or, what would the wedding look like?

hetalia netherlands, luxembourg, and russia wedding / honeymoon headcanons

0.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: none!

a/n: guys im trying to get back on schedule :sob: i have asks from almost a year im so sorry

Netherlands

When it comes to Abel, neither his wedding nor honeymoon would be big.

For the wedding, there’s no more than, like, 5 people invited. He would’ve preferred a sudden in-and-out wedding if it weren’t for how public it was, regardless of how un-romantic it is for you.

Instead, you can invite people if you want, and you’ll be having a quick, private ceremony in the woods. Probably only with nothing, except like, 2 chairs for “an emergency” (He won’t elaborate on that.)

He also wouldn’t dress up either way, unless it were vitally important to you. He wants to be as true to who he is when he vows to be with you for as long as you live, and he is not a tuxedo guy.

Weirdly enough, it’s how much he cares about the wedding that makes him so weird about it. It’s very important to him, and that means everything has to be as authentic and intimate as possible. So, that means a weird awkward wedding.

Of course, that’s just if he gets his way. But he’s surprisingly lenient with his S/O with most things (as long as it’s not too expensive.)

For future reference, he is most susceptible to puppy dog eyes and “pretty please.”

As for the honeymoon, there’s no way he’s putting any effort into it. You can plan it, but he’s not paying and he’s not helping you guys get there. His ideal honeymoon is a night in and watching a movie he pirated, but whatever you want is fine too.

What he wants to do though is a lot of cliche boring stuff, like going sightseeing, hiking, and visiting museums. Notice how all of it is free? That’s the main idea here. Although, he does love camping regardless of how cheap it ends up being. Lets him show you how much of a man he is <3

He’s not travelling though. Leaving the country is out of the question. The important part already happened, why are you making such a big deal out of it?!

Luxembourg

The exact opposite. Laurent is renting out a significant chunk of his capital city to throw the biggest, most extravagant, most expensive modern wedding in the world! He may be a busy man, but he’s always willing to put away plenty of time for his beloved.

If you like planning events, you two will work together for many months making sure everything is perfect. But if you don’t, he’ll take it all on himself to ensure everything goes perfectly.

But with that, he’ll become really stressed. He wouldn’t snap at you (because after all, it is all for you,) but he’s no fun when he’s that worked up. It’s better if you help.

Especially since he wants your wedding to have great symbolic meaning. Having it represent the shared vision of your future together is his first- well… second priority.

The honeymoon afterwards would be much the same, although he also wouldn’t want to travel too far. Once the spectacle is over, he just appreciates the excuse to do nothing but spend time with you without any pressure.

Preferably trying a bunch of new food, going shopping, and going to stereotypical couple-y activities, like dance classes.

He may seem upbeat, but Laurent is surprisingly melancholic around the time of your wedding. For as excited as he is (which is very,) he can’t help but feel worried about how much time he’ll have with you.

But it shouldn’t get him down too much. He's still riding the high of seeing you in your wedding attire <3

Russia

Ivan would want a very, very, very traditional Russian wedding if you’d be fine with that. Unlike a lot of other nations, he’s never been married before, so he’s very stressed about getting to do every single thing he never got to before.

You’d swear he abandoned you for months before the wedding as he’s panickedly running around the country trying desperately to throw everything together. Half the ceremonies he wants to do haven’t been done for centuries, and he really doesn’t understand why he can’t have live cannon fire at his wedding!

Maybe just pat him on the head and tell him you’ll love him even if you can’t sacrifice 20 goats during the ceremony.

But once the stress (and awkwardness as all of his former friends are forced to attend,) is over, he’s whisking you away for a months-long vacation. Preferably somewhere bright and warm but really; he doesn’t care where you want to go, anywhere is alright, as long as it’s far away from everything you two have to worry about regularly.

His favourite things to do with you while on vacation are really stereotypical, like going to the beach, going to scenic locations, and falling into every tourist trap.

He tries to be as romantic as possible through all of that, but he can’t help being awkward and giddy after you two are finally married.

#heta tag #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #abel tag #hws netherlands x reader #aph netherlands x reader #laurent tag #aph luxembourg x reader #hws luxembourg x reader #not proofread at all

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temis-de-leon · 2 months

Text

Love potion and OM! Brothers - Part 1

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 2 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: only fluff here, a little bit of jealousy, a little suggestive (nothing sexual), i like the idea of Mammon and MC in the shower, brothers here are crushing hard and it's implied MC is crushing hard too, pre-established relationship and nothing else i think?

Please enjoy!

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride doesn't prance, Lucifer thought trying to correct his gaut with no success. After all, how often did he have so little work to do and so much free time?

Did the stars align themselves to give him such an opportunity? Did Father see the weight on his shoulders and finally had some pity on his wayward son?

Whatever the reason was, he was thankful for it.

His desk was clean, stacks of paperwork filled and categorized in neat piles. No last moment phonecalls from Diavolo nor Barbatos, no vengeful witches knocking on the door, no janitors complaining over sudden floods.

He'd only be happier if you were there with him, sharing a glass of Demonus or dancing in the privacy of his room. Should he organize a date? Make everything perfect or let everything flow as naturally as possible, holding your hand and kissing your knuckles and letting his feelings be known?

Before he realized, Lucifer was at your door. A warm feeling coated his heart when he smelled the expensive fragrance of your perfume (a gift from him, may he add).

"MC?"

He couldn't wait, already imagining you in your favorite outfit, smiling at him the way you always did while you accepted having him as your partner. He'd kiss you then, if you let him, and he'd go to bed a thousand times happier than the day before.

But he had to ask you out first.

He knocked again, suspecting you were wearing your headphones at maximum volume. Carefully, not wanting to give you a heart attack and risk what could be a perfect evening, Lucifer called out your name one last time and opened the door.

To his surprise, your room was completely empty. Pillows scattered on the carpet and candles shining under the leaves of the magic tree, but no human on sight. However, the smell was stronger than ever.

He realized soon where it came from and he wasted no time inhaling the scent as much as he could with a lovestruck look on his face. He hoped none of his brothers came barging through the door; it was the last thing he needed.

What were you making, MC? Perhaps a substitute for the bottle he gifted you a couple of months ago? Did you already run out of it? Oh, how honored you made him feel!

Lucifer sat next to the cauldron, closing his eyes and picturing you next to him. His hands twitched, wishing to touch you and hold you close, and his heart violently pumped against his chest at the idea of ending the day having his feelings reciprocated.

He'd never felt this much peace.

Mammon

"Oi! MC!"

The door flew open, bouncing against the wall and making the hinges cry, but Mammon didn't even flinch. His smile disappeared and he brought his hands to his hips. Where were you?

He entered the room in search for you, checking the bed, the bathroom and even the wardrobe. Who knows? Maybe you got locked inside. Humans were dumb like that!

"MC! You better come out if you want The Great Mammon to take you out for dinner! It's a one time opportunity!"

You didn't appear, however, and now he stood in the middle of your room in awkwardness. He could smell your shampoo, your shower gel and your body cream, but the bath was completely dry. The cauldron on the table was cold, too. You must've been out for a long while.

You weren't out with any of his brothers, were you? You couldn't! If you were out with anybody, it should be him!

He sent you a message and not even a minute later, too impatient to wait for a reply, he called you, but you didn't answer. And how could you answer? Your DDD was hidden under the mountain of pillows and discarded clothes on the floor!

Yes, his room was also kind of a disaster, but that was different, okay?!

There was no way you were out of the house without your DDD, so you probably were in the kitchen or, if your luck was out, getting reprimanded by Lucifer for whatever stupid reason he found.

Loudly sighing, Mammon threw himself over the bed and breathed your scent in. He couldn't avoid thinking of you dressed only in one of those baby pink towels Asmo gifted you when you arrived. The image of your hands massaging the body cream over your naked body made fun of him, not wanting to disappear no matter how hard he tried.

Were you able to reach your back? Has anyone ever done that for you, feeling your skin and the muscles underneath? Feeling your body sink and melt under his fingers? Shivering under his touch the moment he called you his treasure?

Mammon opened his eyes, not realizing until then how lost he was in his imagination. Even his fingers were rubbing each other, as if he was spreading the product and warming it for your pleasure.

He would pay anything to see you so relaxed around him, MC.

Anything.

Levi

Levi shyly knocked on your door, trying not to squeak too loud while he waited for an answer.

He finally got his hands on the new Sucre Frenzy's limited edition mechandise! He'd been glued to his pc for hours, not blinking for the most of it and not even going to the bathroom, but it was all worth it! Come on MC! Open the door! HE DIDN'T COME OUT OF HIS ROOM FOR NOTHING!!

MC?

He knocked again, this time nervous and unsure. You'd never ignore him, would you? Were you doing important things? More important than him?

The door opened with a bang and Levi wasn't sure if he did it with his magic or with his own hands. Envy's doings were unconscious.

"MC?"

There was no one in your room, which made him almost as happy as the limited edition merchandise did before, if not a little bit more. Even better, the only scent in your room was you: your beauty products, your laundry detergent, your perfume and, why not, even your sweat. Just you.

He closed the door, not wanting any of his brothers to experience what he was feeling in that precise moment.

There was a cauldron on the table, no doubt homework for Solomon, and the mere though of you two working together made his guts coil.

He closed his eyes and smelled again.

There was your shower gel, when you both painted your skin for a cosplay and couldn't get the color out; your laundry detergent, when you washed one of his shirts with your clothes because he just had to wear it for a premiere; your sweat, when you both danced for hours to get the perfect combo.

He led himself to the table, where all your scents mixed in one single liquid in the cauldron. What was this? A potion? For what? Your smell was so good, MC, what were you trying to do with it?

Whatever the reason, he couldn't let anyone else enjoy your essence. Something that made you you. Something that, if he became worthy enough, only he could have.

Tagging the party: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav @zarakem @yuuvis32

If anyone else wants to be tagged, send me a message!

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 2 months

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Formual 1 / MotoGP Fusion - Part 7

Summary: You are the first female MotoGP rider ever. You race for KTM Factory Racing, leaving Jack Miller your teammate, and one of your main sponsors is Red Bull. You grew up with most of the riders but your best friend is the multiple MotoGP Champion Marc Marquez. After your horrific crash the year before, you are ready to start the new season and probably a new love?

Pre-Story - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

A/N: Sorry for the long break - here wo go agaiiiin!

Ship: Not telling yet (Marc Marquez, Carlos Sainz or Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: none

Taglist: @laneyspaulding19, @luciaexcorvus, @raizelchrysanderoctavius, @darlingssaturn

Y/NY/L/N22 ☑️ Nice, France

Liked by marcmarquez93, charles_leclerc and 1'536'428 others

Y/NY/L/N22 Got myself a new toy 😄 and yes, I'm talking about the bike.

View all 3'864 comments

marcmarquez93 😍😍 It's a beauty. Y/NY/L/N22 If you behave, I maybe let you ride it. 😉

charles_leclerc 😍

annie546 Did anyone notice, that she is in Nice? Only 30 minutes from Charles? 🤔

charles_lover Maybe they went on a tour together? I read that he owns a bike as well.

miasonda Did anyone notice, that she explicitly said that she meant the bike as a new toy? Like if we should mean something else? 😂😂

charles_leclerc ☑️

Liked scuderiaferrari, marcmarquez93 and 1'563'842 others

charles_leclerc A beautiful bike trip ☀️

View all 1'243 comments

arthur_leclerc❤️

sania OMG there's the proof! He was on a bike tour with Y/N!😱😱

ferrarigirl HE WAS!

vaniasilo Did anyone else notice, that this is the first time, Charles posted his bike? 🤔

pierregasly Icon 💪🏼💪🏼 charles_leclerc Next time, you have to come, Mate!

🔥 Y/N Y/L/N's Cryptic Post Sparks Intrigue: Is Charles Leclerc Her Co-Pilot on a Romantic Ride? 😱🏍️

😄 A new toy, a new adventure? Fans speculate as Y/L/N's Instagram post hints at a possible connection with Leclerc amid the scenic landscapes of Nice! 🚀🌉

Just when fans thought they had unraveled the tangled web of relationships surrounding MotoGP star Y/N Y/L/N, a new twist emerged as she posted a cryptic picture on Instagram, accompanied by a caption that set hearts racing. Y/L/N's intriguing post featured a snapshot of herself with a brand-new bike, along with the words, "Got myself a new toy 😄 and yes, I'm talking about the bike." The photo was taken in the picturesque city of Nice, France, located a mere 30 minutes away from Monaco, the hometown of F1 driver Charles Leclerc. 😱🏍️🌉

As fans quickly connected the dots, the speculation intensified. Could Y/L/N's newfound "toy" be symbolic of an exciting new chapter in her personal life? The proximity of Nice to Leclerc's hometown fueled rumors of a potential connection between the two racing stars, leaving fans breathless with anticipation. 🚀❤️

Fueling the fire of speculation, Charles Leclerc himself shared a picture on Instagram, showcasing his own bike, yet neither Y/L/N nor Leclerc tagged each other in their respective posts. This omission only added to the intrigue, leaving fans to ponder whether the two were on the scenic journey together. 🔍🧐

As social media erupted with debates and wild theories, followers and enthusiasts alike questioned whether the stunning landscapes of Nice played host to an intimate escapade between Y/L/N and Leclerc. With emotions running high and imaginations running wild, fans now find themselves on the edge of their seats, eagerly awaiting any further hints or confirmation of a blossoming romance between the two racing stars. 💘🌟

Amidst the exhilarating twists and turns of the love saga, one thing remains certain: the racing world will be forever captivated by the electrifying entanglements and unexpected connections that continue to unfold, both on and off the track. Strap on your helmets, folks, for the ride is far from over, and the truth may soon be revealed in the wind of their love-fueled adventures! 🏁🔥

arthur_leclerc and lorenzotl started follow you

#MotoGP x Formula 1 #MotoGP #Formula 1 #Formula 1 x oc #Formula 1 x reader #MotoGP x reader #MotoGP x OC #Marc Marquez x Reader #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Charles Leclerc x Reader

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nexysworld · 1 year

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Guardian Angel 🖤 Part 4.3 🖤

Read on AO3 - Requests are Open - Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | 4.1| 4.2

A/N: Thanks for the support and patience for this chapter. Tumblr wouldn't actually let me post it in one or even 2 parts no matter how I tried to split it, so it's split into three parts (though you can read it as one chapter on AO3.)

Chapter Summary: In a an attempt to get reader to open up to him, he starts giving in to a change of scenery and other requests for her. Leon even allows her a special friend before he leaves on a work mission, leaving the reader home alone for the first time.

🖤Pairing: Yandere!Leon/Fem!Reader

🖤Tags (not all apply to all chapters): NSFW, Masturbation, Dubcon, Sex, Gaslighting, canon typical horror and gore descriptions, probably eventual kidnapping or kidnapping like behavior, use of pet names like bunny. Leon induces some PTSD like flashbacks on purpose, general things of that nature. Unwanted creampie, etc. Probably treat as dead dove. Inappropriate use of animal collar. Threats of animal abuse (though none occurs and it's not descriptive.)

The first day was easy for you. Being alone definitely felt strange, being alone with essentially free roam of the house was even more strange, but with Lucipurr running around with you, it didn’t feel as lonely as you thought, the little cat brought such an indescribable joy to you.

You listened to music while you paced back and forth, watched TV, more pacing. At one point it even started to rain, so you took a seat by a window and read for a while. It was peaceful. Actually peaceful, you didn’t let your mind wander beyond the moment. So many bad things had happened, you just wanted to focus on the good for now while you could, and having Lucip around to take care of instantly brightened any even remotely soured mood you had. Besides, he needed you, you couldn’t lose it while he depended on you. The second day had been a bit harder. You hadn’t particularly liked waking up without the smell of food or Leon’s kisses. And if you thought about that further you felt conflicted about even feeling that way, especially with everything – no – you immediately stopped that thought. N o bad thoughts. No bad thoughts . Luckily for you the cat had got your attention, meowing at you incessantly to remind you that it was breakfast time.

The evening had been even harder. The scratching of the tree branches outside, the pitter-pattering of the rain on the roof, just the general creakiness of the old house had you on edge. While you trusted that no living thing would enter without Leon’s permission, that didn’t exclude the supernatural. You felt silly for even entertaining that idea, but it was hard not to when you were entirely alone. You swore the red eyed man was back, not fully, but there was always something flashing in your peripheral vision freaking you out. It helped even less when the attic door had creaked open.

It’s not that you hadn’t been curious, but, you felt you knew enough about Leon to know that he would know if you went up there. How would he know? You didn’t know. What you did know was that he would know. You didn’t want to know what the consequences of that would be. So, you closed the door and went back to bed, making sure the light was left on and Lucip was with you.

Day three was the worst overall. Leon should be home that evening if his timeline was right, but you were bored by now, especially having no one to talk to, and were obscenely sick of cereal, sandwiches, and cold meatloaf. Movies couldn’t hold your attention, nor could reading. You opted to instead play some music out loud as you danced around the large house, sometimes picking up Lucip and swinging him around gently, before hugging him close to you.

The music cheered you up a little, but that was short lived when your heart nearly came out of your mouth from the size of the spider you saw on the wall. “Lucip no!” You shouted when the cat had darted after it, chasing it up the stairs. You were frozen, especially when you heard a door upstairs creaking open. You’d prayed and prayed that it was the bedroom door, but it was never that squeaky, and besides it was already open. Through wobbly legs you made your way upstairs, a shoe in hand in case you needed to help Lucip fend off any more undesirables. Much to your dismay, the attic door was open and Lucip was nowhere to be found - no doubt having followed the 8 legged thing up there. You attempted to get the cat to come down through any means that didn’t involve going inside. “Here kitty kitty. Pspspsps” You tried at the doorway. No luck . Shaking the food bowl. Nothing . Treats? No . What were you supposed to do now? Could you just wait until Leon got home? But how mad would Leon even be if he knew the cat had gone up there, would he take him from you? No! The very thought of losing what felt like your only friend, losing something that relied on you, you couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t fail him like that. You just couldn’t, he was the ony ray of hope. A resounding crashing sound came from the room. Shit . If something important was up there…maybe you could pose it to Leon that you just wanted to keep the stuff safe from the cat? You’d been so behaved lately maybe you could beg for forgiveness and he’d be lenient with you?

Another crash came while you were pondering what to do. Shit . Shit . Maybe Leon was right, he’d given you too much freedom and now you were getting way ahead of yourself, but you could only think of the small feline you needed to protect.

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~Leon was at a red light that was taking an eternity to turn green, he’d have blown through it but he knew it was a camera-light. He was so anxious to get home, get back to you. Watching you dance around the house and play with the cat had him in a really good mood. He had full plans to wrap you in his arms, make a nice hot dinner – probably lecture you about those over-sized bites – and reward you for being so good while he was gone.

With the light still yet to change, he opted to pull his phone out and check on you one more time. When he watched you calling the cat from the attic his blood ran cold – the second your form disappeared behind the door, his foot hit the gas maxing out his speedometer to get home as quickly as he could.

Despite him driving like a maniac, he felt like he wasn’t going fast enough, time had slowed down for him. Even when he brought the Jeep to a skidded stop outside, his legs felt heavy as he fumbled the key to get inside and up the stairs, boots thumping loudly with each step.

The door was still ajar, and you weren’t in any of the visibly open rooms. “Hey Bunny, I’m back.” He did his best to mask anything that might scare you. “I’m coming into the attic, it’s okay. I’m not mad.”

As he came up the stairs, he dodge a heavy book that was thrown at his head. He sighed, this is exactly what he expected would happen. And there you were surrounded by computer monitors, some were playing back tapes from the security footage he’d take at your old apartment.

In your hand you were gripping a manila folder with giant red print on it “SHULTZ CLASSIFIED.” In your other hand he watched in horror as you held a sharp piece of broken glass, your hand was shaking while it bled.

“I’m not fucking crazy! You made me think I was crazy, but I’m not crazy! Derek was real. He was my boyfriend, and he was real . You’ve been stalking me for over a year, you sick freak!”

“C’mon baby, lets talk ok? There’s no reason to be so upset.” Leon put one hand out like he was walking towards a cornered animal. He was assessing things as he went, trying to determine the best course of action. He might be able to use the collar, but he was concerned you’d hurt yourself more falling into the broken glass on the floor. His best bet was to get over there and disarm you, but he had to tread carefully, not wanting to push you over the edge before he could.

“Take me home.”

“Bunny, you are home.”

“Please, Leon, please take me back home to my real home. I miss my friends and family, I’m sure they miss me too. I know I’m not crazy now, so…”

“Bunny –” He took a slow step closer.

“If you don’t I’ll kill myself. I will, right now.”

“Let’s not talk like that, alright? You’re not being rational right now.” He took another slow step forward, hands still raised. In a sign of a truce, he unbuckled his knife and tossed it to the side, along with his guns and even the remote to the shock collar. “See honey? I don’t want to hurt you, it’s okay.”

Quick contemplation crossed your face. “Let’s go together then. Please…please I can introduce you as my boyfriend. They’d love you, really. I won’t tell them about this or anything I swear.”

Poor Bunny, negotiating isn’t going to work, it’s cute you tried though. Leon nodded anyway, taking another baby step closer. He just needed you to let down your guard for a moment, just a brief moment. “If that’s what you really want, we can probably work something out, ok? But you won’t be going anywhere if you hurt yourself. Do you want your family to know you killed yourself?”

The second you lowered the glass just slightly away from your neck, Leon took his move, grabbing your wrist so tightly you were forced to drop the glass. “See? It’s ok.”

“Please…please Leon I just want to go home. I just want to see them. I’m not crazy. I won’t report you or say anything. I can go back to work, we can go back to being neighbors.”

He brought his free hand up to cup your face. “Oh poor Bunny. You don’t understand, you don’t exist anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me, baby. You don’t exist. You don’t have any friends or family. You’re not even a ghost - you simply don’t exist outside of this property.“

“No..no way–”

“Yes way baby. You should know, you’re the one who ran ragged trying to find a single person who remembered –I won't even dignify his name — did you really think I wasn’t going to do the same to you? Though honestly this is for your own protection”

“My friends and family, they don’t know who I am anymore?”

“No. They don’t know you, they’ve never heard of you, they’ve never met you.. Let me be doubly clear, you don’t exist to anyone outside of me and the cat.” Leon was treading carefully now, this wasn’t the outcome he expected. He’d have to think about how he wanted to proceed long term now that you knew some of what happened. For right now though you were scared and bleeding. He decided to continue to act with caution, but not without regaining some control, especially when that look of terror appeared in your eyes upon Lucipurr bolting out of the room. It was clear that it occurred to you the cat was all you now had besides Leon.

“Hey, shhhh. You know what? Like I said, I’m not even mad alright? I’m not mad. You were so good the whole time I was gone. I know you only came up here because of the cat. That’s my fault for leaving the door unlocked.” He tugged the classified folder from your hand, setting it down on the desk next to them. “No time out, no punishment. Just come with me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

When you didn’t move he pulled you into a tight hug changing strategies. “You don’t want to leave Lucip all alone do you?” He felt you shake your head against him. “Good. And you don’t want Lucipurr to have to die because you can’t behave, right?” You froze. That’s exactly what he wanted.

“Bunny, I asked you a question. You wouldn’t want the cat to die because of you, would you?”

“N-no.”

“Good, then I urge you to think about what might happen to Lucipurr if you decide to pull something like this again, it would really be sad if he had to die because you weren’t around anymore to take care of him.” Despite the open threat, he opted to rub your back still coaxing you to follow him out of the room. “Good girl. See? I told you, I’m not mad, don’t be scared. We’re just going to get you cleaned up. Shhhh.” He led you gently out of the attic and down to the bathroom, all the while thinking about his next steps.

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diamondnokouzai · 11 months

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Top Ten Ways to Recover From the Loss of a Loved One—Number Nine Will Shock You!

This is a sponsored article! All the advertisements you see provide us with our funding. We’ve marked them with “sponsored content” so that you can tell!

Our advertisements use targeted advertising, so we use your cookies to tailor our advertisements to your needs. If you’re not comfortable with that, disable your cookies here.

Losing a loved one is never easy. From realizing you’ll never hear them laugh again, to almost crying at the grocery store because you put their favorite food in the cart by reflex, to seeing their face on strangers in the street, to the funeral and the well-wishers—it’s never easy. Personally, I recently lost my baby brother. It was unexpected—I suppose it usually is, when someone you love dies—but I kept going. These are some of the tricks that I found that helped me.

I see you. I’m with you.

#1: Think About Them

It may seem counterintuitive, but thinking about the loved one who you lost can actually help the mourning process. Focus on them. Remember their smile, their laughter, and even their tears. Remember all the parts of them that were alive. Think about their energy. Focus on all the memories you had with them, to the point where you can’t think about anything else without connecting it back with your loved one. Sit in their bedroom and refamiliarize yourself with their smell, their possessions. Remember—if you start to think that you’re doing too much, then you never really loved them.

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Personally, I sit in my younger brother’s room and think about the games we used to play together. I take out the old chessboard and play a game with him. I close my eyes and remember his voice, playing back all the phrases he used the most in my mind. I listen to whatever he has to say. It can be difficult, at first, to hear your loved one’s voice after you saw them die, but as you stick with it it becomes more and more natural until you don’t even have to try at all. You can do it.

#2: Be Gentle With Yourself.

Mourning takes as long as it takes. There is no way, nor any reason, to rush it, so don’t try–simply let yourself go along as time passes. See the sun rise, then set, then rise and set again and again, ad nauseam, all without the person you lost. Let the moon cross the sky without taking in anything around you. Let the loss wrap itself around you without anything changing. Don’t let anyone else try and force you to grieve any faster than you need to. Don’t let anyone else control your mourning. No one but you can decide how you mourn—if you’re more comfortable sleeping the day away than going to therapy, that’s no one’s business but your own! Remember, it’s your pain. Only you can make it go away.

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And even when you hear their voice at night or in the television static begging for you to bring them back, remember: that’s just proof that it’s working!

#3: Get Into Nature

It’s important to recognize the healing power of nature. My younger brother used to love going on long hikes at night, and while I personally am connecting with his memory by going into the woods, even if you don’t have that kind of connection with nature, going outside and getting close with the plants can be healing. The sight of so much life all around you, the smell of plants and the feeling of leaves, the disgust that roils over you as soon as you remember that as alive as the plants are, none of the people you love will ever be so alive again. You will finally understand why they died, even if you don’t accept it.

Remember, go as far into the forest as you can. As long as you remember the first two steps, you won’t get lost—or, at least, not lost enough for it to stick. You just have to stick with it, further into the forest, until the sun sets. Until you can’t even see the trees in front of your face, and then go further. Just past those dead bushes, past the cordon, past the sign. Then you’ll be there. Then you won’t have to accept anything.

Remember. I see you. I’m with you.

#4: Read!

Just like getting into nature, getting into books is a great way to help escape from the pressure that comes with

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mourning. If you aren’t sure where to start, you can always ask your local bookstore owner, or check for resources online! Personally, I would recommend The Worst Loss: How Families Heal From the Loss of a Child, The Turn of the Screw, and Pet Sematary. Of course, if you would rather read The Shining or The Body Keeps the Score, then that’s completely fine. What’s most important is that, whatever it is that you’re reading, you’re still thinking about your loved one. Remember, you can’t forget them. Do you think that they would want to

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be forgotten? Of course not! You’ve heard them begging!

#4: Connect With Other People

Obviously, you aren’t the only one who remembers your loved one. They were too good for you to be the only one who remembers them. Other people knew them, too, and you can always speak to the other living about your mutual loss. Personally, I speak to my parents. When my baby brother was alive, my parents frequently scolded him, but it seems that they’ve begun to regret a great many things since we lost him. I ask them to tell me stories about him, and I let them cry. Sometimes, I even start crying too—but that’s healthy! It’s important to get all your emotions out.

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But that doesn’t mean that you have to forgive them. They know what they did, after all. They know that they ignored your loved one while he was screaming, begging to live. What kind of parent could ignore their own child? What kind of parent would hurt their own child? They know what they did! If they regret it now, isn’t it too late? There’s no more forgiveness after death.

You wouldn’t want to forgive the person who killed someone you loved. They wouldn’t want you to forgive them.

#5: Keep Everything Clean.

It can be hard to remember the basics, when you’re grieving. Soap, bleach, baking soda—who cares about any of that once they’re dead? But you have to keep things clean, even if there’s no point in going on. If things get to be in too much disarray, the neighbors could notice and interfere, and no good ever came from an interloper.

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Here’s a neat life hack: buy all the cleaning supplies in advance on one trip! That’s one less time you have to go out and talk to people. Get three or four jugs of bleach, six or seven boxes of baking soda, and about three gallons of soap. You might get some looks at the cash register, but that’s why they invented self-checkout!

#6: Make a List

Planning can be difficult when you have so much on your plate. The best thing to do for it is to make very basic lists so that you know what you have to do, and to break it down into smaller, more manageable parts. For things like doing the dishes, you can make the steps as simple as picking up a plate, putting it under the water, and turning on the faucet. For more difficult things, like living, you can make it even smaller—step one, wake up. Step two, open your eyes. Step three, inhale. Step four, exhale.

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Or, you can always just give up! After all, if you really loved the person you lost, you would want to be with them, wouldn’t you? Or are you as selfish as they say?

Don’t worry. I believe in you, at least!

#7: Get Into Art!

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Art can be a great way to get your emotions out. Obviously, there’s no such thing as bad art, but you should try to keep your art true to yourself and to your mission. Don’t ever forget about why you lived when they didn’t, you worthless piece of shit.

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And while it can be tempting to break the rules of art, remember: you have to know the rules to break them! Henry Capaldi didn’t break onto the art scene by blowing up statues, but by building them. So remember—five points per pentacle, and while blood type doesn’t matter as much as it was once believed to, it does still have to be human!

#8: Figure Out What You’ll Give Up

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Some people struggle with this step. Should the bedroom be packed up and stored, or should it stay in place? When can old homework assignments be recycled, if ever? Is it more important that you live, or that your loved one lives? Is there anyone else you can give up? Will it even work, if you aren’t sacrificing yourself?

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There is no “right” answer to these questions. It all depends on what kind of person you are. Personally, I chose my parents—there is nothing a parent should want more than for their children to live, after all. They know what they did, and so do I.

And besides, Mom hasn’t been the same since the accident. She’d want this.

#9: Visit The Grave

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Some people say that you should visit the grave in order to get closure, but that’s not why you’re here, is it? Bring your shovel. It’s so dark down there, you have to get them out. They still need a body, after all. Carry them carefully—depending on how long it’s been, they might be falling apart. That’s alright. Once they’re back, everything will be better again! Just like before! I wouldn’t lie to you,

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would I?

This is where things get tricky. You can’t let anyone see you take them out of the graveyard—they wouldn’t understand. They would tell you to leave well enough alone. But they haven’t gone through what you have. Not like me. I know all about this kind of pain.

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Remember. I see you. I’m with you.

#10: Get Into Nature

It’s important to recognize the healing power of nature. You have to do this at night, of course, preferably when the moon is full, but if you have a flashlight, it shouldn’t be a problem. Into the woods, now. Past the deadfall. Ignore the figures you see in the darkness—you’ve been so stressed lately, sometimes your mind plays tricks on you. Just keep going. You’ve got all the materials you need now, and even if you can feel some of the cold, slimy parts of your loved one dripping down your chest and into your boot until it squelches between your toes, that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re almost to the cemetery! Don’t give up!

You want him to come back, don’t you? You loved him. And now you can love him again! Just get into the cemetery and bury him again. This time it’ll be better than the first funeral. You’ll be able to embrace him this time, no one will stop you. You’ll be there for him! Isn’t that wonderful? Aren’t you happy?

Why not?

Ignore the corpses you see on the ground and the freshly disturbed dirt. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. Focus on your loved one. Kneel down and pray if you want, but it won’t help you now. Not since you already came so far.

Ignore the sounds you hear coming from behind you. There’s no one there.

Don’t worry. You’ll be with your loved one soon.

I’m sorry for tricking you. I just needed one more body.

Remember. I saw you. I was with you.

#11: Dead Isn’t Better

He’s back! Isn’t this wonderful? He’s just like how he was. It doesn’t matter how much of his skin or flesh is missing, or what he says. He’s just like he used to be. Everything’s just as good as it was. You don’t need your parents anymore. You don’t need anything! He’s back home with you. Isn’t that perfect? Aren’t you finally happy?

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Why not?

#horror #horror writing #horror stories #short story #my writing #fiction #.din #.txt

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