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masonreds · 8 months

Text

mason mount x reader

Summary: Mason putting up with drunk Y/N. That’s all really!

word count: 3,0k words

a/n: this is my first fic I’ve written in a while (used to write for a different fandom but we don’t talk about that) and it’s all over the place really. I don’t know where I was going with this fic. Going into hibernation now 🙈

Once Mason had stopped in front of your best friend Laura’s house, where he was leaving you for the night, Mason turned to face you. The walls were alright slightly shaking because of the music that was already loud enough, it was blaring through the windows. The multi-coloured lighting was dancing and flickering around the room, matching the music beats at times.

"Are you certain you don't just want to drop by?" You asked, looking over to your best friend's house before returning your glance to Mason. "Yes, babe, I'm sure," Mason responded, smiling. "I've got training tomorrow and I want to be alive and healthy for that," he joked. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a worried glimmer in your gaze.

You were secretly concerned about Mason. In the days and weeks since you two arrived in Manchester, all he could think about was work. There is no problem with staying focused, but the problem is that he didn't take any breaks during the process. There was no doubt in your mind that he needed a break from work. However, you didn't want to bring it up in case you argued and weren't in the mood to dispute tonight.

"What?" Mason chuckled, his brow furrowed. "You need to give yourself a break, baby," was the only thing your throat could say. You wanted to let him know that you are always there for him in times of need. You reach for his hands and squeeze them gently to encourage him. "Y/N, I'm alright. Also, I am not in the mood to party." He grinned at you, lifting your hand to press it to his lips, the sweet gesture that always made your heart skip a beat.

“Have fun, alright?” Mason continued. “But not too much??” You joked making Mason let out a chuckle.”

“Well, maybe, but make sure you don't drink too much. In terms of how much alcohol you can handle, you know how much you can handle.” He reprimanded, shooting you a serious look, knowing well enough that whenever you go out the night before, you always complain about a hangover the next morning when you wake up. With a groan, you rolled your eyes, shoulders slumping like a child listening to her mother continuously say the same thing over and over again, and you rolled your eyes with a groan. “Yes, Mase.”

Your response made Mason giggle, and he felt the urge to tease you even more. “And please don’t put your phone on mute just in case there’s any emergency or anything, okay?” You sighed, “Yes Masonnnn.” You longed out his name playfully. Mason laughed. “Don’t forget your coat either, It’s cold outside and I don’t want you catching anything. And before having a drink line your stomach with something, don’t drink on an empty stomach. And-“

“Mason! I swear to God. I am not a child. He burst out laughing clearly enjoying this, which earned him a glare from you. “Okay, okay I’ll stop. But seriously babe, don’t put your phone on silent in case something happens. I don’t want my girl getting hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah I won’t,” you gave him a soft smile, appreciating that he cares about you so much. He gazed at your beautiful face, sighing with contentment and appreciation. That smile will never fail to melt his heart and make him fall even more in love with you than he already does.

Mason bent down and planted a passionate kiss on your lips, both of you closing your eyes to relish the love you share for each other. Taking a step back from the kiss, you smiled as you pulled yourself away from it.

"I love you." You whispered. “I love you too" He gave you one last peck before reaching for your door handle, opening it for you. You got out of the car and waved at him one last time.

Mason didn’t drive away until he saw your best friend greet you at the door. You both looked back in Mason’s direction, “You sure you don’t want to stop by?” Laura called out. “Nah I’m good thanks, make sure you take good care of her for me, alright?” Your best friend gave him a quick nod to assure him that he’s got nothing to worry about. Mason have one last wave a blew a kiss in your direction before speeding off down the road.

Mason received a message from Y/N not even a few minutes later. He made sure he stopped at a red light before reading the message knowing that if Y/N had discovered that Mason had opened a message while he was driving, he’d get an earful from you.

Y/N: Don't be so hard on yourself, you deserve a break babe ❤️

Mason was unable to control the smile that was developing on his lips. Mason will always be grateful to have you in his life because you are his biggest supporter and you never fail to show it to him every day. Mason quickly typed in his response and continued his way home, the smile never leaving his face.

The fact that he allows you to attend parties with your girls so effortlessly has always raised a lot of questions in the minds of people, but to be honest, it is not a big deal to him. Mason is confident enough in you to allow you to leave without him following you around like a bodyguard. He will gladly acknowledge that he occasionally feels too protective and that he has his fair share of insecurities, but he has never been the kind of man to prevent you from living your life to your fullest potential out of selfish motives.

He won't ever attempt to take away your freedom or your beauty from you. Although Mason is aware that there will be men at the party, he is not in the least bit frightened. He doesn't need to worry because he knows he can completely rely on you and that you are sufficiently responsible. He will always be certain that you won't do anything to jeopardise your relationship or even harm him.

In order to keep a relationship for as long as possible, you need to be trustworthy and honest with each other. It is very likely that things will become very complicated if either of these two are missing.

As soon as Mason returned home, he began to watch past matches, reflecting on how much had changed since then. He began to wonder what went wrong, but he was still relieved to be starting over with a new team and teammates.

A few hours later, Mason got up to get himself a glass of water, that was until he suddenly felt his phone ring out of nowhere, startling him in the process. Glancing down at his phone to see your picture, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hi baby, everything okay?” Mason asked, making his way to the kitchen to get himself a cold glass of water. “Hey Mason, it’s Laura.” Mason knitted his eyebrows in confusion surprised to hear your best friend's voice. “Laura? Where’s Y/N? Is she okay?” Mason panicked because he found it unusual your best friend was calling him from your phone. “Well, it’s nothing serious but, Y/N drank too much. And I offered to drive her back to your place but she keeps declining saying she wants to go with you and you only.” She spoke, sounding completely and utterly defeated.

Despite the slight murmur in her voice, Mason could hear his girlfriend's voice in the background, “Nooo I don’t talk to strangers, Mason will be maddd. Go away, you’re not Mason.”

Laura sighed over the phone. Mason could already imagine her shaking her head in disbelief. “Your girlfriend is extremely loyal when drunk Mount.” She added knowingly, which earned a laugh from Mason. “Okay, just get her outside, or at least try to. I’m on my way.” Your best friend mumbled a quick ‘okay’ and hung up. Mason grabbed his keys and headed back to where he left you hours ago.

Mason parked his car in front of the house where he saw Y/N, Laura struggling to keep you upright. You looked bad. He knew you were going to regret this the next morning.

"I'm so glad you're here! Take your girlfriend now." Your best friend exclaimed, a look of relief on her face as if she was finally done with you. "Nooo! I do not gooo with strangers!" You slurred, your eyes barely open. "That's Mason, you idiot." Laura rolled her eyes and pushed you towards him.

"Mason? Where?" You whispered, seeking in every direction as you fought to open your eyes. You staggered forward, tripping over your own feet. Mason’s reflexes were so swift that he caught you just in time.

He laughed a little and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Don't worry, it's me," he said reassuringly, doing his best to keep you steady on your feet. You looked up at him, squinting your eyes as if trying to make sure it was him. "Are you really Mason?" you asked, poking him playfully in the chest.

“I swear to god Mason, she only had two drinks, nothing else. I promise I didn’t give her drugs or anything like that.” Laura raised her hands defensively, This is her first time seeing you this drunk. You had never been drunk in front of her before. “It’s okay I know. Alcohol affects her a lot, more than the average person to be exact.” Mason chuckled, glancing down to see you glaring at him.

"Oi! "Are you talking about me?" You questioned in a playful tone your brows knitted together, your eyes narrowing, and your lips pouted cutely. “Only good things baby" He responded by shaking his head at you.

“I’ll take care of her from here. Thank you so so much.” He gave your friend an apologetic smile. "Of course Mason, now get home safe you two." She gladly returned the gesture before turning on her heel and went back inside to tend to her other guests.

“Hi, Masey.” You said after kissing him, Mason tasted the alcohol dancing on your lips and laughed at how that simple substance had changed his girlfriend's behaviour throughout the evening.

“Hi, my love.” His eyes get lost in yours as he whispers, drawing closer so that your foreheads touch. His smile was wide as he touched the tip of his nose to yours, and you giggled softly in response. “Let’s get you home,” before unlocking the car door and getting into the driver's seat, kissing you on the lips once more. He put his keys in and turned on the engine while giving you one last look before taking off as you drove home.

You and Mason finally arrived back at your place. Mason looked at you to see that you are still peacefully asleep. He got out of the car and made his way to your side, opening the door and slowly getting your seatbelt off. You hummed, your eyes still closed.

“Come on you, let’s get you to bed,” Mason whispered hooking his arm under you to lift you. As you placed your head on his chest, your arms immediately encircled his neck.

Mason’s grin just wouldn’t stop spreading. He probably looked like a lunatic but nobody can fault him for being overjoyed to have a girl like you.

Whether you think he's cheesy or not, he truly believes he is the luckiest man alive.

“Baby.” Mason whispered as soon as he reached the front door, “Wake up for a moment please, I need to open the door.” Mason chuckled, slowly placing your back on the ground, keeping his arm wrapped around your waist.

"Okay." You huddled into his side, your cheek resting on his chest, and your eyes were still closed as you held his torso. Mason felt his heart melt there and then. "You have no idea how adorable you are right now." He whispered to himself, dropping a light kiss on top of your head before swiftly pulling his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

He crouched and took you back inside, kicking the door shut and walking directly into your shared bedroom.

"I need to puke." You mumbled as soon as he placed you back on the ground. You ran towards your shared bathroom and emptied your stomach right in the toilet, Mason following closely behind.

He knelt behind you as he held your hair back, rubbing your back softly with a concerned look crossing his features. “Do you feel better or do you need to puke more?” Mason asked in a soft tone. You nodded, slowly standing up and walking towards the sink to reach for your toothbrush. You knew he wanted to lecture you but also knew now was not the time.

Mason kissed you on the forehead before leaving the bathroom to bring you a drink of cold water, and when he returned, you were already splayed on the bed, face down, clothing and shoes still on. He put the glass of water on the nightstand next to your bed and sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You need to get changed Y/N.” "Mason, I'm too tired to get changed, I just want to sleep." Your voice was muffled when you whined because the covers were pressing on your face. He adores you with all of his heart, but he can't deny that you can be a handful when you're drunk.

“C’mon, sit up.” He spanked your ass playfully. Mason was glaring at you over your shoulder with the same intensity as you were, an eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed over his chest as if to challenge you.

You groaned and slid over, reaching out to him with your hands. He grabbed them gladly and lifted you up, forcing you to sit on the edge of the bed. "Drink it all, please. Your hangover tomorrow will be lessened by it. He gave you the bottle of water and then went to get some clothes for you to sleep in, choosing one of his shirts that was too big for you.

You finished the water glass just as he arrived back. He took it from you and put it back on the nightstand. You murmured a sweet thank you in return.

Mason placed his clean t-shirt beside you on the bed and knelt in front of you, grabbing your feet to take your shoes off. He then went back up to undo the button of your jeans, unzipping it and slowly tugging it down your legs, making you giggle. “What?” He looks up at your face with furrowed brow

“You’re going to see me naked.” You pointed out, giving him a cheeky smile. “Well, I’ve seen you naked plenty of times before.” He shrugged with a smirk.

He was given a raised eyebrow from you, "Touché." He laughed while pulling your jeans fully off as he shook his head. He turned around and stood up straight, dropping your jeans on the ground before saying, "Arms up."

Mason grabbed the hem of the corset you wearing and pulled it off of your body, leaving you only wearing your underwear as you complied with his command while keeping your eyes closed and raising both of your hands above your head.

Before he could realise what you were doing, your hands reached behind your back, unhooked your bra, and hurled it across the room.

Mason took a quick breath and stepped back to thoroughly observe you. Oh boy, what a sight it was to see his beautiful girl standing right in front of him.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath. Yes, he’s seen you like this plenty of times but he has never gotten used to how breathtakingly beautiful you are. And every single part of your body is so gorgeous, from every scar, every beauty mark, every imperfection, every curve, to just, everything.

“Hey, no staring.” You warned, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Can’t help it,” Mason says with a smirk. He knelt until his face was level with yours, put both of his hands on the edge of the bed next to your exposed thighs, and touched your nose with the tip of his nose.

“You are just so fucking beautiful.” He whispered before closing the distance between you. While you both grinned against each other's lips, he gave you a tender, loving kiss, moulding his mouth to fit into yours.

You put your hand on his shoulder to pull him closer, biting on his bottom lip and making him moan softly as you both wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss.

But reluctantly, Mason pulled back, pressing his forehead against yours, your chest rising and falling with the deep breath.

"Even though I would love to fuck you right now, I can't because you need to rest," Mason said causing you to pout. "But..." Mason shook his head with a small smile.

"Tomorrow baby, you can have all of me." He even kissed you one last time before asking you to raise your hand again. Mason took out the shirt he had placed on the bed earlier and put it on you. He patted your right thigh, gesturing for you to get back in bed and get comfortable.

Mason quickly stripped off his clothes, leaving only his boxers before crawling into the blankets and snuggling right next to you. You rest your head against his bare chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body closer to him.

"Mason?" He hummed in response, eyes closing at the sudden feeling of fatigue. “Thank you for always taking care of me, I know I'm a handful sometimes.”

"Oh, most of the time you're definitely a handful." He teased, opening one eye to see you pouting at him. He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you.

“But I will never get tired of taking care of you. I will always take care of you, drunk or not because I love you so much.” He added hugging you tighter. You sigh, smiling softly at him, placing a light kiss on his chest before snuggling into the crook of his neck, "And I love you too, so much."

Nothing can compare to the feeling of having the love of your life in your arms.

#mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fluff #mason mount x oc #mason mount imagine

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imthebadguyyy · 9 months

Text

Something Just Like This

pairing - charles leclerc x reader

fandom - f1

synopsis - a reflection on your relationship.

part - i (part ii)

warnings - talk about death, leukemia, badly translated french and the events may not be in order.

a/n - felt guilty for being away for so long so here's a wee little bit of a fic to make up for it!! all my love, always ♥️

when you were five,your dad had taken you to a go kart track in monaco, to watch a race with his childhood best friend, herve. having previously lived elsewhere, your trip to monaco with your parents was tremendously exciting, and you had nearly tripped over in your excitement at visiting a new country, and possibly making new friends. your dad had told you, "my friend has 3 sons himself, I'm sure you'll all get along very well"

so, you went, clutching your raggedy anne doll in one hand, and your model ferrari in the other, excitedly chattering away to your mummy and papa, eventually falling asleep on their shoulders.

when you awoke, you found yourself on a strange bed, with neither your doll nor your car beside you, and your parents seemed to have vanished too. the easy tears that had always been ready to spring to your eyes did their job, and your bottom lip began to wobble.

just before you could burst into tears, a pretty lady with kind eyes looked in at the door, and upon seeing your trembling lip, walked in with a soft coo.

"ma cherie, don't cry. are you looking for your maman and papa?" she asked, sitting down beside you.

"yes I am, do you know where they are?" you asked, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand as you spoke. "yes cherie, they're here, in the living room. im pascale, your parents friend! my husband, herve, is your dad's friend. come, let me introduce you"

and so you followed her to the living room, clutching into her finger for dear life, and the moment you spotted your parents, you ran to your mama, clambering into her lap and hiding your face in her hair.

"hello! are you y/n?" a little boy asked, with messy dark hair a sweet smile. you nodded, looking at him curiously. "I'm Lorenzo, but you can call me enzo!" he said with a smile. "hello" you mumbles softly, taking in your surroundings.

you took in the pretty apartment, with the bright sunlight and the pretty paintings, before something on the floor caught your eye.

there was another boy on the carpet, with brown hair and green eyes, who had in his clutch your missing ferrari toy.

"hey thats my car!" you exclaimed, sliding off your mother's lap to sit on the floor"

"that can't be your car, girls don't play with cars!" the boy exclaimed, holding it close.

"now charles, of course they can! and that is y/n's car so why don't you ask her if you can play with it together?" pascale interrupted, sensing a fight about to break out

"ok, im sorry y/n, can we share this car please? i love ferrari!" he exclaimed, flashing you a bright smile, and it was at that moment that your little five year old heart fell hard for the boy.

the two of you spent the afternoon together, playing with your ferrari and all his other cars, and laughing and giggling with lorenzo, and also playing with baby arthur.

your parents watched with smiles, realizing their children were forming life long bonds.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

no one could have foreseen how you would be joined at the hip forever after that. your parents moved to monaco for a job your dad got, and you started living just down the block from the leclerc's. that meant Saturday night dinners at either of your houses, and lazy Sundays spent at the beach or at go kart races.

you even went to the same school as the boys, with either of your parents picking you up and dropping you off.

as the years passed, you and charles got closer and closer, and it was a rare occasion where you weren't stuck at the hip.

you found in him the best friend you always wanted, funny, kind and caring, and always ready to have your back, something he proved on the very first day of school, when he punched a kid who pulled on your pigtails.

his parents weren't happy but when a tearful charles explained that "i couldn't let him hurt y/n/n!! i love her!!" pascale softened and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"you love her, do you?" she asked with a chuckle, when the boy nodded furiously. "she's my best friend, nobody should make her upset" he said determinedly, making his dad chuckle too.

"ok, mon fils, tu n'as pas de problèmes"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

on your sixteenth birthday, the leclercs joined your family for a special dinner on the beach. your dad rented a yacht and you guys had spent the day sailing on it, and trying to catch fish and swimming in the blue water. you had all laughed and screamed and lorenzo had taught you how to do a proper cannonball into the water. your mother's had scolded him for teaching you such unladylike things, and he in turn said "but she's y/n! no one's expecting her to be ladylike!" at which point you had dunked him in the water.

you tuckered each other out by swimming around, and participating in a chicken fight with the leclercs. it was you in charles' shoulder, and arthur on lorenzo's. of course, you won.

it reminded you of when you were children, always together, always messing around in some way or the other. but with Charles spending more and more time racing, you got to see the leclercs much lesser than you'd have liked to.

so communication with Charles became through letters, written to him when he went out of the country to race, with his dad and brother. pascale was a regular visitor but meeting charles had become something to be cherished, what with you busy trying to get auditions to be a singer.

in the years that had passed, you and charles had become extremely close, meeting each other whenever possible and becoming each others support system whenever the other needed it. so of course it was fitting that he was your designated best friend, your confidante, your favourite leclerc (but we won't tell arthur that)

so that night after dinner, when charles suggested you take a walk together on the beach, you thought nothing of it. not until he pulled out a small bracelet he had made, out of seashells, that you gasped, leaping into his arms for a tight hug.

"i want you to have something to remember me by when I go racing, ma jolie, i know I'm not always around, but this way you'll always have a piece of me with you, even if I'm not there" he whispered, dropping a small kiss you your forehead.

gentle kisses and hugs and touch were not unusual for you, it was your love language and it always had been, ever since you were kids.

but there had always been a lingering crush you had on him (and him on you but we'll talk about that later) and you felt your belly burn red hot when his lips dropped to your cheek.

you pulled him in close for a hug, hand running through his hair, freshly cut by his mother.

"merci, ma vie" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his wrist, and as the both of you stayed there, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, cozy on a rug he had stolen, watching the beautiful monaco sunset, you swore you had never loved anyone as much as you had in that moment.

and charles realized it too, looking over at you, and how the sunset cast a golden hue on your mesmerizing eyes, and the way your hair shimmered softly, and your skin glowed bright, and he swore he had never seen a sight prettier, and his little teenage heart fell a little harder for the five year old who worse pigtails and loved ferrari as much as he did.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

however, your story wasn't always just sunshine and rainbows. when you were seventeen, your dad was diagnosed with leukemia.

the news came as a shock to you, especially when the doctor told you, he did not have strong chances of recovery even with the proper surgery and treatment. you'd never forget your mother's wail, as she sobbed over your father's fate, and how pascale and herve were there for her through it all, but for you, you couldn't breathe.

you ran to the park, crawling under the slide set, your breathing harsh and shallow. your eyes were blurring and every breath sent a sharp pain shooting down your chest. around you, the world seemed to spin and you closed your eyes, drawing your knees in, and begging your brain to stop, and pressing a hand to your chest.

before you knew it you were gasping, every gasp making you more and more dizzy, and your heart seemed to be banging against your chest to get out.

"am i dying?" you thought to yourself, labouring gasps echoing in the darkness.

"and am i hearing things?" you also asked yourself, because you could have sworn you heard charles' voice.

and lo and behold, he appeared, panting and sweaty, sinking down next to you, grabbing your sweaty hands in his own and pushing his forehead down to yours.

"cherie? ma jolie? regarde-moi s'il te plaît, regarde-moi. maman told me what happened. please cherie, breathe for me, i need you to breathe. peux-tu respirer pour moi?" he begged, rubbing your back slowly and pressing kisses to your nose.

slowly, your breathing slowed down, but as it did, tears began to stream down your face, and ugly sobs wracked your body.

Charles felt his heart break, watching the strongest girl he knew break down in his arms, tears and sweat pooling on his shirt as you sobbed.

"i know, Cherie, i know" he whispered, his own eyes glazing over. he loved your dad as much as your dad loved him, and he couldn't believe it when his mother told him the news. he pulled you in even closer, so you were straddling his lap, and kept rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings to you.

"papa, il va mourir et il va nous laisser maman et moi seules" you wailed into his shoulder and he shushed you gently.

"no no no, cherie, listen to me, please?" he asked, pulling your chin up, heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and runny nose.

you nodded slowly, still hiccupping, but letting him pull you into his chest.

"y/n, i cannot tell you what the future holds for your papa. but I can promise you that you and mama will never be alone, ever. even if the day comes when we have to say goodbye to your papa, you will never, ever be alone, not while I am there, not while maman is there, not while papa is there, and not while lorenzo and arthur are there. you are my family, y/n, and family sticks together. I'm here for you, always" he whispered.

you looked at him, your heartbroken eyes looking into his sincere green ones, seeing the same pain reflected in them. and in that moment, you knew it was right when you leaned in, and he did too.

your lips met that cold, dark, rainy evening, under the shade of the slide set in the park, but your souls had intertwined when you were five, and you could have sworn you had never felt more alive than you did at the moment.

and while your heart broke and sagged with the weight of losing your father so soon, it also ached with love at having charles with you. so when you drew back, still tasting, the salty tears you both had shed, he pulled you back in for a tighter hug.

"toujours là pour toi cherie, toujours."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you lost your dad the following year, in 2016, and charles was by your side at the funeral, watching you cry as you placed a white rose on his casket.

you had never spoken about that kiss again, and neither of you had thought it was the right time to bring it up in the months that followed.

charles watched as your mother, the woman he so admired, crumbled before him, lost without her guiding light. is that how it would ever be if you ever lost him?

the fear that coursed through his heart shocked him. he couldn't imagine what it would be like, to loose someone he loved so dearly.

his father had taken over as a surrogate father for you, and constant support for your mother. but the leclercs knew something that you didn't, their father wasn't keeping very well either, but no one had the heart to tell the l/n's, not when you were already suffering through so much.

after the funeral, there was a small tea at your own house, but you couldn't bear to be there. so at the first opportunity, you slipped away, leaving your mother in pascales care.

you ran, not caring where, until you found yourself at the beach. you sat down, pulling off your shoes and throwing your hat away, before sinking down on your knees to the sand.

you sobbed, salty tears dripping down your face, holding the locket your dad gave you in your hands, and once again, a familiar smell filled your nose as a warm body settled in next to you. charles.

"hi cherie" he whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

"hello" you whispered, mustering up a small smile.

"ma courageuse fille" he whispered softly, making you giggle and sob at the same time.

"i have to be strong for maman" you admitted. "she has no one but me in this world anymore" you whispered, eyes blurring again.

"she has us, always" charles said determinedly. "and we aren't going anywhere" he said, taking your hand in his.

and as the sun set once again, you reminicsed about a simpler, sweeter time, when you and charles where carefree and innocent, not scarred by life and it's harsh realities.

there was something special in that sunset, you noted, resting your head on charles shoulder again. perhaps your papa was trying to indicate that charles was the one for you.

but at the moment, sitting by the beach, in a moment of joined sorrow, you had never felt more human.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

with charles growing success in f2, and you finally getting a record deal, life was going well.

until you were told that herve was not doing well. denial flooded your brain. no. how was this possible? how could god take both the father's in your life to disease and illness?

you screamed and wailed and cursed, too stung, too bitter, about life.

and then the day came, in 2017. when pascale called you sobbing and lorenzo came to your door knocking wildly.

"c'est papa,il ne se réveille pas !! tante laura, qu'est-ce qu'on fait?!'

your mom was out the door in an instant and you followed, following a heartbroken lorenzo to the door of the house you knew so well.

you could hear pascales wails before you even reached, and the easy tears rose again but you forced them down.

you had to be strong for your second family, and with a deep breath, you pushed the door in.

what you saw broke you.

charles, sobbing on the sofa, head in his hands, while arthur sat next to his mother, in tears.

your mother dealt with all the formalities but you stuck to charles, letting him cry into your shoulder, holding him the hold day, whispering how much you loved him and how sorry you were to him, and promising him that he wasn't alone.

you comforted arthur too, holding the boy in your arms, wrapping him in the tightest hug.

you had never felt more respect for Lorenzo, ever the big brother, tears streaming down him face, even though he stayed so strong for his family.

later that evening, you held charles in their balcony, wrapped in a blanket that you had knitted for him.

"i feel so hollow, so empty" he admitted, burying his face deeper into your neck, trying his best to stay grounded by inhaling the scent of your perfume.

"i feel as if a piece of my heart has been snatched away and I'll never be okay again" he admitted, tears filling his eyes for the hundredth time that day.

"i know, charles, believe me I know" you whispered softly to him, running your hands through his hair, "but a wise boy I know once told me, that I was never ever going to be alone. he told me 'even if the day comes when we have to say goodbye to your papa, you will never, ever be alone, not while I am there' and today charles, I am saying the same to you. i know that it hurts like anything right now and that pain will never go away"

"feel that pain charles. it's what makes you human, ma vie,and i know it hurts. but I am here for you. take out all your pain and I will be there to catch you when you fall. i will be there to put you back together when you fall apart. i am here for you ma vie, always" you whispered to him, and he choked out a sob, curling himself into you, never more sure of his love for you.

"i lied and told him I got the ferrari seat" he finally choked out, and with a soft whisper of "oh charles" you pulled him in close.

there it was.

the reason why he felt like his soul was being eaten up inside.

"charles, mon coeur, i promise, you will get that ferrari seat. it will be soon, and you will have kept that promise to your papa, i have a feeling mon coeur, that your future in formula 1 will be as bright and shiny as you, and you are going to get everything you deserve, i know you will"

and he chose to take solace in your words.

just like he took solace in your soul.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you made your formula 2 debut alongside charles at Baku that year. everyday you were left more in awe of the powerful force that he was, ready to race in less than a week, because he felt he owed it to the man who made him who he was.

so you told him you'd go with him, be his support and be there for him when he needed you to most.

and you were left spellbound yet again, at his talent, his resilience, his drive, his passion.

p fucking 1. at a race that meant the world to him.

and as he ran towards you after, body colliding with yours so hard you swear some of your bones snapped, you told him everything you had to in your embrace.

rough racing gloves on delicate skin, frenzied pulling closer and harsh breathing. thats all you remembered from the moment, looking deep into his emerald ,knowing the media was having a field day.

"I'm so so so so proud of you so fucking proud" you whispered. "and i know your dad is too" you continued, pressing a small kiss to his helmet.

when he stood on the podium, tears streamed down your cheeks. you were so so so proud of him.

and as he looked down at you, he smiled, knowing you were always going to be his brightest star.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles' journey is formula 1 started with Sauber but you knew for a fact that he wouldn't stay there.

when kimi announced he was leaving ferrari, you called charles and screamed into his ears "YOURE GOING TO GET THAT FUCKING SEAT MARK MY WORDS" and he had simply chuckled saying he was hoping for the best.

so when in the middle of recording a song, your phone rang with charles' name, you dropped everything you were doing and picked up the phone.

"je l'ai fait. j'ai eu le siège"

"quoi?"

"le siège ferrari. j'ai compris. c'est à moi. je vais être pilote de ferrari pour 2019"

the scream you let out was so loud your producer jumped out of his skin.

"I'm so proud of you!! J'ai toujours su que tu l'aurais, tu mérites le monde et plus encore!!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face and you heard charles laugh.

"merci, mon cherie. i will celebrate with you soon" he chuckled.

"obviously you will!! I'll be home soon, let me just finish this album first and then I am all yours" you laughed.

oh how you longed to be all his. it's all you'd ever wanted since you were a teenager.

charles' heart ached.

oh how he longed for you to be all his. it was all he'd ever wanted since he was a teenager.

later that day, you wrote the song feels like.

social media had a breakdown.

charles had a breakdown.

but that's mainly because he'd rather you wrote a love song about him.

unbeknownst to him, you had atleast a 100 lovesongs written about him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

clicking your pen for the hundredth time, you let out a sigh.

this songwriting thing was so frustrating.

it seemed like you had a billion ideas but nothing compact came out of it.

with a deep sigh, you let your hand crash against the piano, letting the discordant notes ring in your apartment.

but the ending caught your attention.

humming, you grabbed your pen again, jotting down, scribbling down all the things you wanted to say but never would.

being a singer had always been, and just as charles was flourishing in his career, you were flourishing in yours. you had already won a grammy for your album 'nostalgia' and had won amas, Brit awards, and 2 vma awards.

'the rising star of pop' was what they affectionately called you.

you had stunned the world with your versatility and range and the depth of your songs. ballads like gravity and last kiss had shown your emotional depth. songs like when I get there and make you feel my love had showing your delicate, romantic, vulnerable side. songs like happier reflected your pain.

your song fat funny friend had shot you into the global scene when you released it as a single. millions of fans wrote to you, thanking you for being vulnerable so others could feel seen.

and of course, no one picked up on the secret ballads for charles, pinning it down to young love and romance that was usual for all people your age.

so as you finally finished the song and smiled, you knew they wouldn't guess for this one either.

but you would know.

and so you sent it to be your next single.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

summer break rolled around, and you had a new mission - confessing your feelings for charles.

you were sure the timing was right.

you had to tell your best friend in the whole world that you were madly in love with him.

you told pascale, who squealed and told you "welcome to the family officially!!' earning a laugh from you.

"let me tell the boy first maman, then I'll tell you what he says"

"of course he'll say he loves you too! i know my son cherie, he's been in love with you since you were children, he's just too stupid to do anything about it" she joked affectionately and you laughed.

"j'espere que tu as raison maman. i love him very much" you admitted, blushing a little.

"of course darling. come to dinner tonight, everyone will be there, you can tell him then" she smiled, and you got up to go get dressed, pressing two kisses to her cheek.

back home, you nervously scouted your cupboard to see what you could wear. you showered and washed your hair, and put on a red dress that charles had gifted you when he got his seat.

smiling at the memory, you put on your makeup, did your hair and took a deep breath.

you were really going to do it. you were going to tell the man you had loved your whole life that you loved him.

the drive to the leclercs house was nerve wracking, and ringing the doorbell to their home was even more nerve wracking. you saw lorenzo there already, and he rose to greet you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"how are you y/n? i haven't spoken to you in a long time no?" he asked, sitting down next to you.

"I'm good enzo, very busy with recording. howve you been? I'm sorry i haven't been keeping in touch, I've just been very busy" you apologised, feeling guilty for not spending a lot of time with the oldest Leclerc.

"don't be silly, soeur, i understand you are busy. and your music, it's been a joy to listen to. you're truly a talent, ma belle" he said, and you could feel yourself getting emotional.

"aw, enzo, meri beaucoup, votre avis est très important pour moi" you said, giving him another hug.

he poured you a glass of wine, a small smile playing on his lips.

"so, is tonight finally the night?" he asked with a smirk, remembering how smitten you were for his brother.

you blushed, taking a sip of your wine to cover for it.

"yes, I'm going to tell him tonight" you admitted and he flashed you a warm smile of encouragement.

"Tell who what?" a voice interrupted, and the youngest leclerc plopped himself down next to you.

"y/n/n's going to tell charlie she loves him" lorenzo stated matter of factly, making you Tut and whack his arm.

"quoi? are we not telling arthur?" he asked, feigning hurt.

"i was going to tell him" you whined and then you turned to arthur.

"you must swear to not bring this up until it's over okay?" you told arthur, trying and failing to be stern.

arthur pretended to be hurt.

"of course I won't? what do you take me for, a gossip box?"

"yes" you and lorenzo chimed in unison.

arthur gasped dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

"do you really think that low of me?" he asked, pretending to cover his eyes in agony.

"yes, now shush, i think i heard the bell ring" Lorenzo said, getting up to open the door.

you bit your lip nervously, preparing for charles to walk in the day.

and he did. he looked gorgeous as ever, in a shirt the cover of deep red wine, hair tousled by the wind on his drive, but his eyes and smile were as bright as ever.

your heart started beating so fast you swore you almost had a heart attack.

but nothing could have prepared you for what he said next.

"everyone, i want you to meet charlotte"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n - aaaand drum roll please 🥁 cliffhanger!!

i promise i won't leave you hanging but this was getting too long and it needed some ✨spice✨ i know this wasn't the best and the timeline wasnt cohesive but I needed to get this out of my system so pls go easy on your girl.

feedback, comments,opinions, reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🩷

hope you had a good read!! much love always xoxo

taglist -

everything - @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird @roslastyles420

f1 - @theonly1outof-a-billion

to be added to the taglist send me an ask, dm or comment 🩷

masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #Charles Leclerc imagines #Charles Leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #cl #cl16

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jokeringcutio · 4 months

Text

(f) Reader sends accidental Pic to Stepdad William Afton [ Explicit/SMUT]

Fandom: FNAF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Non-con/Dub-con, First Time, Reader loses Virginity to stepdad, Stepdad teaching Stepdaughter Reader a lesson, age difference, forbidden relationship, height difference, infidelity, name-calling, Dark!William. All characters are mature in this. NOTE: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe. As a reaction to this prompt:

Reader sends accidental Pic to Stepdad William Afton

The phone buzzed in your hand, a chilling reply displayed on the screen.

I'm coming home.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave and you had to double-check the sender. But no, it was right there. Dad.

But why was your stepdad coming home, right now, when he was supposed to be working?

As you slowly scrolled the page up, thumb trembling, you came eye to eye with the picture you had intended to send to your crush.

Nothing wrong with it, was there? Most of your friends have done this. They’d encouraged you. Just take a picture with nothing on, send it to the guy you want to be dating, and voila.

But here, something had gone horribly wrong.

Because that intimate picture had been sent to William Afton, your mother’s husband, and since a few years your new dad.

Good lord, how had you made such a slip-up? Running your hands through your hair, you paced the room. Your stepdad was a strict man, not at all pleased when you announced you wanted to start dating. Very discouraging actually.

Boys were strictly forbidden, according to him anyway. But you were a girl with hormones raging and you’d met a nice bloke at your college. Plus, your friends had pushed you to do something like this. Just sent him a sexy pic. Not that you had shown all. But still.

It wasn’t something you wanted your stepdad to see.

Looking at your own picture one more time, you felt embarrassed. You looked good in it, your absolute best. Very seductive. A very revealing pic.

You were so going to get it now.

No way your stepdad was going to let you live this down. You instantly flicked your finger over the picture, deleting it. You weren’t in the mood to send it to the right guy any longer, only felt trepidation now that your stepdad could be home any moment.

He worked at the pizza plex nearby and was one of the managers. He could go wherever and whenever he wanted, and he had a really fancy car as well.

The sound of tires screeching signaled he had arrived sooner than you had anticipated. You had run out of time. Your heart raced and you clenched your fists, unsure of how to explain yourself. Casting a glance at your mirror – you were dressed in your unflattering comfy clothes – you mentally prepared to face your stepdad.

His car roared into the driveway, and then you heard the front door slam shut.

"Where are you?" William's voice boomed throughout the house.

"Upstairs!" you called out, trembling in fear. The sound of his heavy footsteps grew louder as he ascended the stairs. He was tall and very intimidating on a good day. You didn’t want to know how he would be on a bad one. But it seemed like you were about to find out.

He burst into your room, face flushed with anger and confusion. "What the hell were you thinking, sending those pictures?"

"William, I... I didn't mean—" you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“When did I give you permission to use my full name?” William sneered, anger radiated off him in full waves. He pushed the aviator glasses back on his nose with an agitated growl. “I am still your dad, step or not. Address me respectfully.”

You hardly dared to look at him as you complied. “Yes, Daddy,” voice now soft as you glanced at the floor in shame. Yet, there was that little voice in the back of your mind, wondering what he had thought when he had seen your pictures. You looked like your mom – everybody had always said so. Had he thought you attractive?

Slowly, your eyes slid higher, from the floor to his feet and upward, past his shins and to the obvious outline of his cock in his pants. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, when you realized that your pictures at least must have had some effect on him.

You got your stepdad hard.

You quickly looked up at his face. The thin lines around his eyes betrayed his sternness, the corners of his mouth had dipped into a displeased frown.

"Did you even think about the consequences?" he snapped, his blue eyes blazing with rage.

"Let me explain," you pleaded, your voice barely audible. The weight of his accusations hung heavy in the air.

"Explain what? That you've been sleeping around and sending pictures to your boyfriends?!" William's tone was laced with venom, his words cutting deep.

"Dad, I'm not dating anyone," you stammered, feeling a hot flush creep up your cheeks. "I just... I wanted to send them to someone I have a crush on. He asked for them."

"Christ," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you even realize what could happen if you do something so reckless?"

His question hung in the air, unanswered. You didn't know what to say, feeling small and humiliated.

"Think about it," he continued, his voice cold as ice. "Your pictures could end up all over the internet, with no way to get them back. And worse, that boy might want to fuck you."

As he spoke, he began unbuckling his belt, using his foot to kick your door shut. Your eyes grew wide, surprised by the suddenness of his actions. What was going on? Your body froze as you watched him, kicking off his shoes, unable to process what was happening.

Was this really the man who had been a part of your family for so long?

“It’s a good thing your mom doesn’t know what whorish behavior her daughter has been up to, because I swear, she would have gotten a heart attack.”

You stumbled backward, calves hitting the edge of your bed which made you glance shortly over your shoulder. There was nowhere to go any longer.

“Now, if you just do as I say, then we can keep this quiet,” William said, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. His pants fell to the floor and he kicked them off, leaving him in just his disheveled blouse and his socks.

His cock, long and thick, peeked out from between the edges of his blouse, the head an angry red and slit already weeping pre-cum. A mouthwatering sight, a man well-endowed. You could have enjoyed it, had he been anyone but your stepdad.

"Dad, please," you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by your own racing thoughts. It suddenly became very clear what his intentions were. You couldn’t just stand and watch. Your body kicked into action, and suddenly you found yourself bolting toward the door.

But before you could escape, William's strong hand gripped your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarled, his eyes dark with anger and something else. A deep raw hunger. Lust. You instantly knew there was no escaping the consequences of your actions.

But you were going to try.

You struggled in his grip. “Dad, William, no!” You cried out, as you tried to escape his grip. But his arm circled around you and you heard his breathing heavy and excited in your ear. You felt his chest, hot and hard, against your back. His cock pressed against the small of your back, the pre-cum staining the fabric of your shirt. Run, a voice inside your head screamed. But he was too strong.

Struggling, you felt him drag you back to your bed, so full of childhood memories. Always your personal safe little spot. And now? Now he threw you upon it without ceremony, crawling over you before you had the chance to get up.

You knew what he wanted to do to you. You could see it in those blue eyes, gleaming behind his glasses, pupils diluted with perverse intent. Could you ever look him in the eye again after this?

“Dad, please, think of Mom,” you tried to reason with him. But strong hands pried your legs open without hesitation, palms rough upon your knees, your thighs trembling as you tried to push him away.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice shaky and uncertain. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Surely he wouldn’t pop your cherry? Surely, he’d back down, laugh, and tell you he only had done it all to frighten you?

He leaned backward, trapping you to your bed with only his hips. Rising to his full height, he pushed his glasses back up his nose with a smirk, eyes roaming over your helpless figure underneath him.

“Oh, I think you know what I’m doing,” was all he said before two large fingers hooked around the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties, just enough to expose your cunt. Your breath halted as you looked at him in fear. He wouldn’t, would he?

“Dad,” you started, voice choked. “This is wrong. You can’t just-”

But you froze when you felt your stepdad’s long cock rub past your entrance, the tip dipping in and stretching your walls wide. He hunched over you, a grin plastered on his face while his eyes glinted. He brought his lips near your ear, hot breath flickering past your skin.

"I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he murmured. You felt his fingers guide his cock, the fingertips pressing against your labia. Then, without a warning, he pushed himself inside in one firm thrust.

You threw your head back, back arched, and legs spasming. A loud cry was torn from your lips.

That fucking hurt.

Your stepdad was too large to be inserted in one go. Tears brimmed in your eyes while you brought your hands up to grab his shoulders, but he pushed them down and trapped them at either side of you.

“Take it,” you heard your stepdad growl through gritted teeth. “You wanted to tease some poor bloke, didn’t you? Then take what he has to offer you.”

His hips moved harshly, but it was just a few thrusts before he came to a halt. Your pussy throbbed painfully, desperately trying to adjust.

Through the tears, you managed to look up at him. William had raised a brow, looking at you as if he were studying your reactions while his hips gently started to move against yours again. You heard sickening slick sounds coming from where your bodies joined.

Experimentally, he moved his hips, and you arched your back again, fingers curling onto the mattress as you threw your head from side to side.

“Take it out,” you pleaded, “Please, Dad, take it out.” Soft mewls fell from your lips, it was pathetic. But you were in so much pain right now, split upon his cock. It was like he was tearing you apart. “It’s too much.”

You’d fantasized about cocks before, your mind wasn’t that innocent. But you’d never had a real one inside your cunt before and this – your stepdad’s cock – was just too large. The way it stretched your vaginal walls was painful, your pussy throbbing desperately around his shaft to try and adjust. But he kept moving his hips, making it harder to get used to the feel of him.

The head of his cock hit you deep, nudging against a part of you that you didn’t know existed. You shuddered on his shaft, taking deep breaths as your stepfather kept pumping his hips.

“You surprise me,” you heard the roughness in his voice, as if he was thirsting for something. “You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Like fucking a virgin.”

Something in his blue eyes flickered and you bit back another pained gasp. “Fuck, you feel so good."

Another deep thrust moved you up the bed. You tried to get a grip on the sheets, the blankets – just anything, but your dad kept pushing your hands down, pinning them at your sides. Once you relented and left them there, fingers digging into the soft material of your bedding, he finally placed his arms around your head.

“That’s better, sweet girl of mine,” William’s low voice hummed. “You’re starting to adjust to my cock. I can feel it.”

Wet noises confirmed that he was still stretching your cunt, but also, that you were wet enough for him to easily slide in and out of.

“Please,” you begged, voice sounding weak, but you had to try.

Your body trembled, muscles being stretched into positions they had never been stretched before. You felt how your chest was trapped to his own, how it became hard to breathe while his cock still pushed deep inside your sensitive core.

The pain slowly began to ebb away, your legs slowly started to relax now that they got used to being pushed this far aside. Your stepdad was a large man, both in height and width as in girth, and you had to spread your legs really wide for him to fit in between. But you managed.

“I don’t want this, Daddy,” you weakly said. And you felt weak. Perhaps that was the worst of it. Not his large cock splitting you open and tearing you in half. But the fact that you wanted to appear strong, and yet your voice sounded so small and tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

Your stepdad glanced down at you and gave another thrust. “You don’t want this, sweetheart? You’d think those boys would care if it hurt or not?”

You flinched at the harshness in his voice. As if to punctuate his words, your stepdad moved his hips in a rather sharp thrust, hitting that spot deep inside with such ferocity that it made you flinch in pain. You groaned, gritting your teeth in order not to cry out.

Something in William’s eyes flickered, recognition at what he’d done to you, and then, he did it once more, chuckling as you clearly put in effort to keep from gasping in pain.

“This is how real men fuck. If you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t send out invitations,” his words were rough and mean, and his cock dipped in even deeper inside of you, stirring your innards, making you see starts. You sincerely regretted ever having even taken such photos, let alone sending them to your stepfather.

His thrusts grew bolder, harsher. His cock was buried to the hilt as he folded you over, drawing your knees up to your chest while his hands slipped under your shirt. You felt rough fingers grasp the soft flesh of your breasts, squeezing them painfully in a tight grip that made it impossible to keep from crying out.

“That’s it, baby girl,” William spat, “When I squeeze you I feel you clench down on my cock.” Another firm squeeze of your breasts and you became aware that he was right. Your pussy clamped down on his cock firmly, as if it wanted him inside. You let out another gasp. A denial might have escaped your lips, but if there had been a quiet ‘no’ then it was denied by your stepdad anyway. He thought he was right, and apparently, he didn’t care a dime about your feelings in any of this. He was just using you for his pleasure now, nothing more.

His hips moved a little slower now while he grunted, his hands stilled on your breasts. “Let’s get rid of that,” you heard him say as he tutted his lips. His fingers grazed at the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve already seen it all on the picture anyway.”

With two strong hands, he tore at the shirt, lifting it over your chest until he left your breasts exposed.

A whistle escaped his teeth.

“Well, would you look at that,” then he leaned over you again, his breath hot on your skin. “They look even better than on the screen.”

And then his mouth was upon them. His lips circled a nipple, sucking and suckling while the other one was assaulted by his thumb. You gasped and arched under his touch, glad that his hips had stilled, but still trapped under his weight – his cock snuggly all the way inside your tiny cunt.

He was working his lips on you, suckling and nibbling on your sensitive nipples until it made you gasp. You felt how your body betrayed you. How pain from the initial intrusion and the hard fuck started to morph into something else.

Your pussy started to pulse around his cock, not in pain or in an attempt to adjust. No, your body was drawing him in, starting to milk him for pleasure. Liquid started gushing down his shaft, easing the way for him as your body started to thrum. Your nerves started to tingle, a hot coil formed in your core. Each pinch, each nibble, each suck and each bite set your body on fire. Your core throbbed.

Your stepdad was really skilled with his mouth. The hairs of his bread tickled your skin and heightened the sensations.

And then he started to move his hips again.

William’s lips left your breasts but his hands lingered. Dark eyes – the blue now a deep black – stared at you through his aviator glasses. His hips moved forcefully against your own, but the pain had now fully morphed into pleasure.

“That slides a lot better now,” your stepdad drily commented, moving his hips expertly against your own while you felt his cockhead bump against something soft deep inside of you. The sensation had you mewling.

“Always knew you were a tease,” his cock thrust deep, tearing another moan from your lips, “from the very start,” thrust, “Just another whore begging to be fucked.” Thrust. “Want to be Daddy’s good girl?” Thrust. “More like Daddy’s good whore.” Thrust. “But you have impressed me, sweetheart.”

A thumb gently brushed past your clavicle and, at feeling the sensation, your eyes looked up to search for his. The sight you met was that of a demon possessed by lust. Darkness shielded his emotions, making him look all the more fearful to you.

“Never thought I’d get to fuck my virgin daughter.”

And with that said, William gritted his teeth and started to pick up the pace. His fingers dug into your hips as he held you in place, his cock repeatedly battering so deep inside of you that you were starting to feel sore. Globs of pre-cum softened your cervix as he pressed forth, the head of his cock hitting the entrance to your womb at a punishing pace, again and again, until you gasped in both pleasure and pain. A perfect combination, for your eyes fell shut as your body worked towards an orgasm.

Your pussy tightened around your stepdad’s cock, your toes curled and your fingers dug into your bed. William’s hands were tight upon your hips, leaving bruises where his fingers dug into your skin as he rutted you like an animal in heat.

And then you came. A blissful feeling. Like a volcano that erupted inside and made you see all the stars in the galaxy. The feeling overwhelmed you. Your entire body shook and trembled, your pussy milked your stepdad’s cock for all you were worth, nearly sending him over the edge. But he had control. With gritted teeth, he worked you through your orgasm until the stars you saw started to disappear and you slowly came down from your high,

You came back to earth again feeling your stepdad’s fingers tightly on your skin, hearing his rough grunts, and feeling the force of his harsh thrusts. He was getting near. Even as inexperienced as you were, you could tell.

Your eyes opened wide. Not only was your pussy overly sensitive right now – your body begging him to stop – but this was also your first time having sex. Ever. And you weren’t on any birth control.

And your stepdad should not come inside of you.

“N-Not inside,” you managed to beg, although it took a lot of you to be able to speak after having reached such bliss only moments before.

For a moment you feared that William hadn’t heard you or wouldn’t listen. But then, after two more firm thrusts, your stepdad withdrew and you let out a loud sigh.

Relieved, you smiled up at him and watched as he sat back on his knees. His glistening erection was an angry red, the head throbbing against his own belly. Slick stuck to his shaft, coating it, creating strings of yellowish white tinted with red that caught to the hairs on his stomach.

William seemed to catch his breath as he ran a hand through his wispy hair.

You wanted to thank him for not coming inside of you, for being considerate, but the moment you parted your lips to speak, he hovered above you again. His lips turned into a devilish grin, spelling doom and confusing you because – what was he up to?

“Daddy hasn’t come yet,” he ominously rasped. You loved the way his voice sounded, so deep and hoarse. It sent another spark of arousal through you. You wondered how he was going to finish, whether he’d come on your stomach or ask you to put your lips around him and swallow his load.

But then you felt his hands on your knees, pushing them apart once more. You reached up a hand, “Dad, no!” but it was too late.

He plunged his cock back in while he hooked a hand underneath your leg, pulling it upward, meeting your hips at a different angle this time as he started thrusting without hesitation.

He curled over you, his cockhead once again beating your cervix, sending a fresh bout of tears to your eyes because it felt so good but you were oh-so-sensitive down there. You gritted your teeth, completely helpless, and left at his mercy as he fucked the living daylights out of your already sore and tired body.

“Didn’t I say I was going to teach you a lesson, pretty girl?” You heard his low voice rasp as your stepdad pressed his forehead against your own. You felt his sweaty skin against yours, felt how your sore pussy clamped down on his cock as if your body wasn’t eager to ever let him go.

“Perhaps Daddy doesn’t want to come outside,” he grunted, his large hand upon your right breast, squeezing it. And despite having already cum, your pussy reacted accordingly and clamped down like a vice. It was becoming hard to breathe now, your body was overstimulated, your core sore. But William wouldn’t stop as he worked himself toward his own bliss.

“If I want to fucking come inside of you, then I will. Part of the lesson, kiddo. I don’t fucking care if you were a virgin ten minutes ago, or if you were saving yourself for some fucking dim-witted boy. You fucking got yours now, and you’d better keep everything that Daddy has to give you. Because… here it comes.”

The last few words were all punctuated by firm thrusts, and then your stepdad groaned and rolled his eyes back as his body stilled. His hands were still firmly upon you, keeping you pinned down, whilst hotness flooded your womb and covered your insides like hot burning liquid.

You let out a silent sob, feeling certain that William held you pressed down to the mattress on purpose, keeping you pinned underneath him until he was done pumping his semen inside of your womb. When he finally retreated, his cock slipping out of you, still half-hard but already softening, you let out a sigh of relief.

Yet, your pussy fluttered around nothing, suddenly feeling empty. You started to feel drowsy, body content after the heavy fucking, heart overruling your mind. You groaned and waited to see your stepdad put himself back inside his pants before you slowly sat up.

It felt awkward and painful between your legs, making it hard to move. A thick trace of cum and blood filled the bed, pooling from your sensitive cunt to the sheets. You looked at it in disdain, wrinkling your nose as you realized that this was all done by your stepfather.

Your stepdad had ruined your cunt, taking your virginity and coming inside unasked.

You glowered angrily at him only to meet his gaze, eyes cold. He took the challenge head-on and set himself down next to you, on the edge of your bed.

“Any boy would have done that,” he said, voice low but calm. His hand hovered in the air between you, almost as if waiting for permission, and when you didn’t recoil he placed it gently on top of your bare thigh.

“I did you a favor. And I suppose, a thank you would be in place.”

Was he serious? You looked at him, core throbbing painfully after the sex. After having fucked you so carelessly, he now expected that you would thank him for it?

But then you saw that darkness in his eyes and knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. This was your stepdad, you were living under his roof, eating his food, dancing to his tunes – and you would be for quite a while to come, economic crises made sure of that. It just seemed the music had changed and you were no longer in the children’s disco.

And so you hung your head. A soft whisper fell from your lips, but you could tell he had heard you by the grin that slipped onto his. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson, Daddy.”

His big hand gently squeezed your thigh, skin warm and soft.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” his hand then left your leg until his fingers gently tucked your chin up, carefully making you meet his eyes.

“I just want you to know that although I am not your biological dad, I am your family now. And as your stepdad, I will always be here for you to help you. You need anything from Daddy, just ask. Don’t tease it out of me.”

You almost felt ashamed at this point, and had to remind yourself that you did not send him that picture to tease him. It had truly been an accident. Had he interpreted it the wrong way? Did he think you had wanted him to do this? Was it your fault?

“The world out there’s a nasty place, with nasty, vile men. And what job is it but a Dad’s job to prepare his gorgeous daughter for that world? So that’s what I’m here to do. Help you, guide you, teach you all you need to know.”

It could have been sweet, had his voice not lowered and his intentions not so thin-veiled with lust.

“Just ask. I have many more lessons to teach you.”

Your mouth turned dry at the silent promise that he would fuck you some more – and all the trouble that could come out of it if your mom ever found out.

What else could you say?

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He smiled.

“Any time, darling. Any time.”

AN: For more, follow me (:

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#Stepdad!William Afton x Reader #stepdad william afton #stepdad x stepdaughter #reader insert #older man x younger woman #william afton x reader #William afton x you #purple man x you #matthew lillard William Afton

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rqgnarok · 1 year

Text

music to my eyes - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 4,266

warnings: spoilers for the season 3 finale of ted lasso, jamie being a lil self deprecating. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: jamie has a crush on the band’s bassist.

author’s note at the end!

Jamie’s so, so late.

Roy’s gonna have his balls. It’s the first training for the Queen’s Cup final against Tottenham– their first one without Ted, a little something before the freaking Champion’s League starts next year– and Jamie’s having the worst morning of his life.

He woke up late for his 4 am training that ran long, traffic was absolute shit and now he’s sprinting– not running, cause he’s not allowed to after he and Colin almost ran over the Prince of Denmark while racing each other to the locker room, a story for another day– down the hallway with Roy Kent’s fury just waiting to find its rightful owner.

He didn’t even have time to comb his hair today. It still looks amazing, but it’s the routine that matters. For his mental health or whatever.

Maybe that’s why he feels so jittery and doesn’t look where he’s going as he makes his way to the locker room. Jamie’s got his bag clutched to his chest and his headphones hanging around his neck, his jacket halfway on before he gave up and left it trailing down his side like a sad blanket.

He’s cursing whatever Gods control alarm clocks and traffic and hairbrushes when he knocks onto someone. It’s so forceful it sends them both to the ground with a grunt and a little ah! of surprise. Jamie tries not to grow annoyed and fails. He considers laying on the ground and becoming one with the carpet so he doesn’t face Roy’s justified punishment and sighs out his nose, pushing himself to a sitting position.

“–so sorry,” and it’s a woman, Jamie just knocked out a woman in his rush to work. What’s next? Is he gonna hit a cat with his car? Maybe spit on a kid’s face? She keeps babbling apologies, unaware of Jamie’s foul mood. “–supposed to be at her office but there’s just– there are so many hallways–”

“‘s alright,” he cuts her off harsher than he means to, guilt stabbing at him when she looks at him with wide, remorseful eyes. Jamie sighs, dusting off his clothes and standing, offering her a hand. “Me fault for bein’ in a rush. Should’ve seen where I was going.”

“Oh, god, you actually know where you’re going,” she says with a grimace, accepting his hand. She’s on her feet and standing too close to Jamie for a second that feels like a lifetime– almost nose-to-nose with Richmond’s greatest. Her laugh is stuttery and nervous when she steps back, barely meeting Jamie’s eye.

She’s cute. Jamie’s not planning to do anything about it, especially not with his fine for being late slowly becoming one for missing training but she is. Cute. His mouth lifts in a half smile at the thought, charmed.

“I was looking for Rebecca Welton’s office but I only got myself lost,” she says sheepishly, putting her hair behind her ear every couple of seconds since it keeps stubbornly falling out of place. Jamie’s fingers twitch a little but no. No, absolutely not, he’s not doing this to himself, no sir. “Is there any way you can give me directions without having to go with me? I don’t want you to be late for– shit. Practice, huh?”

Jamie thinks she’s the smartest woman that’s ever walked the face of the Earth until he remembers where they are. At Richmond’s training facilities. She’s looking at a disheveled man in a sports outfit. The story kind of tells itself.

“I– yeah,” Jamie stutters a little, clearing his throat to disguise it. “There’s, um, it ain’t a problem. I can take you there if you want.”

Her entire posture screams relief as soon as he offers, and it’s enough for Jamie to make up his mind even if she hasn’t said yes yet. “Would you? They said in the group chat not to be late and, like, they weren’t specific about it but you just know when a message’s for you, you know. And here I am, late–”

A beat.

“–and rambling,” she smiles at him again, the sight tugging at Jamie’s chest as he stands there like an idiot, his brain rebooting whenever she does it. “Yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

And so Jamie asks a kitman to take his stuff to the locker room while he walks her up to Rebecca’s office. His hand hovers but doesn’t quite touch the small of her back while he blabbers his way through small talk. Nice weather, today, innit, traffic was absolute hell though. Oh, you’re not from around here, that’s nice, do you plan on going sightseeing?

He delivers her to Rebecca’s floor to a thankful, ecstatic Higgins, who welcomes her with a hearty shake of the hand and promises that she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s barely able to spare him a smile and a quick thanks before the door’s closed behind them and Jamie’s standing there on his own, smiling at nothing.

He’s still wearing a dopey grin when he finally finds himself on the field, Roy yelling at him to run laps until sundown for being late. His legs are killing him, he’s £200 poorer, and he didn’t even get the woman’s name; but nothing can drag him down from his high and make him forget how she’d squeezed his arm in gratitude, touch warm and calloused against his skin.

The next day Rebecca’s there before practice starts, looking tall and pleased as she claps her hands and shares the big news: since the final of the Queen’s Cup is being held right here at Nelson Road, she managed to get a band to play during the halftime show. They’ll be here the entire next two weeks for rehearsals and staging, so everyone must be on their best behavior if they don’t want their name in the summer transfer market.

Jamie doesn’t connect the dots until he sees her again, this time at a local bar big enough to house less than two thousand people. Keeley hears from Roy who hears from Beard, who heard from Higgins that Rebecca said the secret band was gonna hang around the city for a couple of other smaller, quick gigs.

Jamie manages to excuse himself from video games at Colin’s with the guys and offers himself to Keeley as a buffer between her and Roy at a bar tonight. Though, in Jamie’s very humble and very right opinion, they’re already on their way to getting back together for good.

The band’s gathered a nice crowd, the lighting low and the thrum of the music hammering on Jamie’s teeth. He’s nursing the beer Roy bought him, the man charmed enough by Keeley’s presence that he let Jamie bend his rigorous diet regime. Just for the night.

It takes three songs for the bassist to speak up, a makeshift spotlight landing on her, sweaty and delighted at being onstage. Jamie’s blood rushes to his face and his vision blacks out for a second.

It’s her. No longer is she lost and out of her element, shyly asking a stranger for help. Both of her feet are steady on the ground, the strap of her bass snug around her neck. Her fingers are toying with the strings even when no song’s playing, an air of rightful confidence washing over the room as it takes her in. Jamie isn’t the only one suddenly breathless.

She grins against the microphone, coy. “Thank you so much for having us, Jaded Joker. We’re Karma Police, and we hope you have as much fun hearin’ us as we do playing for you.”

They fall into another song with that quick introduction and Jamie can’t take his eyes off her, barely hearing the song as the world around him slows down. Her clothes and jewelry sway with her to the rhythm of the music, the lights shifting seamlessly into different colors making her look ethereal.

Keeley clocks it in immediately.

“She’s good, huh?” she nods at the stage where Jamie’s stranger is moving to the beat of the bass like no one’s watching, shamelessly enjoying herself and making funny faces at her bandmates. “Fuckin’ smoking, too.”

Jamie only hums in a very Roy Kent-like way, knowing there’s no fooling Keeley fucking Jones. The last thing he needs is to give her details and have her dip a toe into Jamie’s nonexistent love life.

Of course, he doesn’t take into consideration that Roy’s a brazen gossip.

“So,” Sam elongates the word as he’s spotting Jamie on the press the next day, happy watching him grunt at the effort. “How was the band last night?”

Jamie almost drops the damned thing on his chest.

“Roy said you enjoyed it,” he continues giddily like he didn’t almost commit accidental manslaughter by catching Jamie off guard. “Especially the bassist. What was her name?”

Sam fakes confusion for less than a minute before Jamie gives, mumbling it under his breath. He’d been weak and googled Karma Police in the privacy of his car before going home, swiping through the images that popped up until he recognized her face.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), the article he clicked on informed him. Jamie had repeated the name under his breath just to see what it felt like on his tongue for an embarrassing amount of time.

Thanks to Karma Police’s bassist and lyricist (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the band’s sophomore album New Perspective has found a home in people’s hearts and high on the global charts.

Keeley wasn’t kidding. She’s good.

“Oh,” Sam realizes, some of his amusement softening into genuine interest when he watches Jamie’s face do whatever the fuck it's doing. “Oh, you like like her.”

Jamie immediately flushes under Sam’s gaze, making sure the weight is safe in its place before physically fleeing the conversation. Sam doesn’t mention it to anyone, which Jamie appreciates so badly he could cry a little, but he does find his eyes across the locker room later when Rebecca comes in, four people in tow.

“Everybody, these are the wonderful musicians I spoke to you about the other day,” she says it in a way that screams I’m a pleasant human being and embarrass me and I will end your career right where you stand all at once. “We’re on a little tour of the installations and I thought we’d all come to say hi to wrap it up.”

The boys are charming and welcome them with ease. They’re not one of the most liked teams in England despite their bad runs for nothing, but Jamie’s frozen the second he catches sight of her. She’s a step behind one of her bandmates, shaking hands and smiling politely at conversations while staying slightly in the background, the stage persona from the previous night gone like taking off a jacket.

Jamie takes pride in the way their eyes meet and her tight expression loosens, her smile blossoming into something more genuine, less unsure.

“Hey, stranger,” she says a little awkwardly after having gathered the courage Jamie couldn’t to cross the room and say hi. It feels like they’re alone in a room full of people, and for a second Jamie thinks he sees Sam stealing a few looks, making sure he keeps the others away and distracted for a little privacy. “Did you make it to training the other day?”

“What?” Jamie blanks like an idiot, then shakes his head when he remembers how they met; both of them, late for their respective responsibilities. “Oh! Oh, yeah. I– yeah. I had to run for me life to make up for it, but I made it.”

“Good,” she smiles, shifting in her place. “I, um. I’m glad we get to play for you guys. What you’ve done this past season, getting back to the top, has been unbelievable.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he replies, awestruck, and backtracks when she looks a little apprehensive. She’s doing the hair thing again, combing it back while it stubbornly escapes its place every couple of seconds. A nervous tic, maybe. “I mean– some friends and I, we saw you last night at the Jaded Joker. If anything, it’s an honor we get you guys to play for us.”

“Oh!” she seems pleased, ducking her head at the compliment. Her shoulders loosen again, and Jamie tries not to feel like he just scored a goal against Man City. “Oh, you should’ve said hi! Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I did,” he says, too soft, and it feels like an admission of something when her eyes search his face, for a moment landing on his mouth before putting herself back together. “Up there, it’s like– it’s like you forget everyone else. You’re made for the stage.”

If anything, (Y/N)’s delight only strengthens, tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Jamie finds himself trying to follow the trail of new skin and flushes as well when he catches himself just in time.

“Thank you,” she matches his tone. “You’d think it’d be nervewracking but it’s… silence. In my head. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”

“It does,” Jamie agrees, breathless. It’s exactly how he feels when he gets the ball on his feet, every anxiety and worry and part of him he doesn’t like quieting the minute he steps on a pitch. “I get the same when I play. Peace in the chaos, I guess”

(Y/N) looks at him like she’s discovering the world’s eight wonder.

“Kids!” her bandmate breaks the moment by coming over, arm draped around (Y/N)’s shoulder. (Y/N) blinks, looking a little shell-shocked. “Sorry to interrupt this party, but rehearsal awaits.”

Disappointment claws at Jamie’s belly, but before he can let it fester the conversation continues, bubbly and loud. “Alas! We’ll be done around 5. You’re welcome to visit then. We’re going to the third floor, I think.”

(Y/N)’s only amused at her friend’s antics, even if Jamie’s back to having a knot in his throat out of nervousness alone. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s like he’s eight again and crushing on the cute boy that lived in the apartment in front of the Tartt’s.

“See you then?” (Y/N) says, hopeful, and Jamie thinks it’s only fair he’s brave as well and nods as resolutely as he can.

“I’ll be there.”

He ends up having to ask Higgins for directions, after promising he’s not gonna stir up any trouble at least four times. It takes Roy passing by and giving a few reassuring grunts, guaranteeing Jamie’s best behavior before Higgins gives him the location. When Jamie goes to thank him, Roy only points at him menacingly, though lacking his usual frown, and says don’t fuck this up.

Rehearsals are just wrapping up when Jamie gets there, instruments being packed and people saying goodbye to each other when he makes his way into the room. He immediately finds (Y/N) sitting on the piano playing a complicated melody.

She lights up when she sees him, the music seizing. “You made it!”

Jamie stops her from standing up, instead sitting next to her after she scoots over to give him room. “That was nice. A song of yours?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “Hopefully soon. You never know, when you’re writing. You start working on a song and it ends up being a completely different thing from when you started.”

“Sounds messy,” Jamie says, a little consternated at the thought. Fortunately, (Y/N) laughs.

“It is. Do you play?”

“Fuck no,” he says quickly, then tries to explain himself as she splutters in amused surprise. “I mean, I don’t think I can. It seems pretty complicated. I’ve always been better with me feet.”

He reaches for the keys and begins playing some nonsense, loud and offkey, knowing it’ll make her laugh again.

“No, you gotta–” she cackles, placing her hands on top of his and quieting the dissonant echo of the keys. Jamie feels the tug at his lips, insistent, automatic, the same rush of delight that courses over him whenever he’s in her presence. “Gentle. Be gentle about it, jeez.”

She lines up their hands so her fingers move his and begins playing a quiet, fun melody. Jamie’s doing shit other than staring at her face, slightly twisted in concentration as she mumbles the notes under her breath. G, G, G, F, G, B, G, G…

“I know this one,” Jamie mumbles in recognition. (Y/N) turns her head to smile at him, pleased. “‘s from Nottin Hill, innit?”

“And a million other movies,” she murmurs back, unable to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

“‘s my favorite film,” he concedes, finding it incredibly easy to be honest when they’re sitting side by side like this, alone, their sides warm against each other. He loves his teammates, but (Y/N) didn’t know him when he was awful and arrogant, too cocky. There’s nothing she holds against him, no standard he needs to meet for her to be happy in his company. “Cried me eyes out at the end. Though I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of anyone.”

(Y/N) laughs. “I promise I won’t. It’s a good movie. Doesn’t beat While You Were Sleeping, though.”

Jamie’s expression remains blank. (Y/N)’s face falls into disbelief, her hands tightening against his. “You’ve never watched While You Were Sleeping.”

He’s heard of it, but it’s hilarious to watch her forget herself, any sign of nervousness or polite shyness finally out the window. Jamie likes it– likes her, wants her to be comfortable with him and stop holding herself so tightly whenever she’s off the stage.

“You poor, sheltered boy,” she exhales, aghast. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to introduce you to the best romantic comedy ever made.”

Jamie goes to take the opening but stops himself at the last second. He knows this process; the flirting, the leaning in for just a moment so she smells his cologne then pulling away, leaving her wanting more. The asking for a date, a fancy dinner, then taking her home. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dodging calls until she stops trying to reach him.

He’s been doing it for years. He wants to desperately break the cycle and he wants to do it with her, but does he have it in him? Jamie’s been working on himself harder than he’s worked for anything else in his life, but what if he’s one slip away from becoming his old self? From turning out like his dad?

Sure, the old man’s changed, or– well. He’s trying to. But whether Jamie likes it or not he sees a little too much of him in himself sometimes, and he can’t do that to her. He’s known her for less than a week and he knows she deserves better. Everyone does.

Roy told him not to fuck it up. Maybe this is what he meant.

His expression stutters, shatters, and reestablishes itself in a matter of a moment, a blink of an eye. Jamie knocks his shoulder into hers gently, leaning back into place after a second. He teases: “And who made you the expert, eh?”

Rather than letting it drop, (Y/N) takes the bait just like Jamie knew she would. They stay there until a security guard comes to kick them out for the night, and they talk about everything and nothing. Movies, songs, bands they like, and foods they don’t. Jamie’s favorite players when he was a kid, his hero-like worship for Roy Kent, and how he’s made him a better player, a better man.

(Y/N) shares with him the first time she held a guitar in her hands, the albums she listened to when she was a kid that changed her as a person, realizing she could create magic through words and music. Her favorite cities to tour, how long she’s known her bandmates, how she’d die and kill for them if necessary.

By the time he’s walking into the pitch at Nelson Road two weeks later, the roar of the crowd around him swallowing every other sound, Jamie’s spent every free moment of his time with (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was unavoidable, helpless as he is in his attraction to her, but Jamie doesn’t know what to do without, as Roy so carefully put it, fucking it up.

It hadn’t helped when (Y/N) snuck into the locker room to wish him luck, showing him the Richmond bracelet she was gonna wear onstage with a roll of the eyes. “Our stylist wouldn’t let me wear the jersey, but don’t you doubt for a second that I’m rooting for you, Tartt.”

Jesus Christ. Jamie had felt his cheeks warm up and dared to thank her with a loud, exaggerated kiss on the forehead that left them both grinning like idiots and Roy staring at them knowingly.

Before Jamie followed his teammates into the field, Roy had pulled him aside with a hand on his shoulder. “Tartt–”

“I know, I know,” he answered a little too self-deprecatingly. “Don’t fuck it up.”

But Roy only raised his eyebrows, realization dawning on his features. “You think I say that because I think you will?”

Jamie mumbled some not-words under his breath and Roy cursed. “Prick. I say it because you deserve good things, dickhead. And you should let them come to you when they do.”

Good things, Jamie thinks after one of his passes gives Dani the first goal of the night. The younger man jumps into his arms while hugging him tight and laughing into his ear, their teammates joining their embrace less than a second later.

He looks towards the general area of the VIP seats where he knows (Y/N) and the rest of the band are cheering them on. He pictures her screaming at the top of her lungs, arms in the air, and being happy for him like she’s known him for all his life.

She might be the best thing. Whether he deserves her or not, Jamie wants her. Wants to be with her, watch romantic comedies until they both cry and spend his free afternoons watching her play the piano while he plays FIFA in the living room. He wants songs written about him that have him blushing whenever he hears them in public and for her to come to his games and be able to dedicate every goal to her he ever scores.

Good things. Yeah, Jamie can get down on that.

“You fucking asshole!” she jumps into his arms the second she finds him on the pitch after the game, a medal hanging from his neck and sweat sticking to his skin. (Y/N) doesn’t seem to care as she lets him lift her in the air, holding onto each other tight. “You did it! You fucking did it!”

“I missed your show,” he replies instead, only a little bummed. He’s seen her play live before but there was an itch under his skin the entire half-time, knowing how close she was and being unable to get to her. Jamie grins. “And stole it, too.”

“There he is,” she teases gleefully. “For a second there I thought you were gonna be humble about this.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” he says cockily.

“And how’s Mr. Man of the Match gonna celebrate, huh?” she wonders, hitting him lightly on the chest now that he’s put her back on the ground. “A fancy club? Getting shitfaced with the boys? A date with your left hand?”

Jamie puts his hand on hers at the last second, stopping her from pulling away. She sways into him, all traces of joking vanishing from her expression. He forces himself to stay on her face, the urge to look away defeated by how she’s looking at him. In wonder, open, hopeful.

She deserves good things, too. Jamie is determined to be the one to give them to her.

“I was thinking dinner?” he asks, fidgeting a little on his feet. “Maybe a movie? Thought I could see what While You Were Sleeping’s all about.”

(Y/N)’s mouth is fighting against a smile, somewhat hesitant still. Jamie doesn’t blame her, he’s been beating around this bush the entire time they’ve known each other.

“You want any company?” she wonders.

“Well, what kind of date would it be if it was just me?” he forces his features into faux confusion, watching her finally lose the battle and beam like a kid on Christmas. Her fingers twitch where he’s holding onto her hand.

“Not a great one,” she concedes, looking like all of Jamie’s dreams. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

Awful. Jamie feels awful about Mexican. He’s a white sexy boy in all the ways that matter and his taste buds punish him for eating spicy food no matter how much he likes it. But he can compromise. He’s starting to realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do for (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“I feel fantastic about anything you like,” he answers truthfully. “I’m sure me tongue will forgive me eventually.”

(Y/N) laughs, fingers in Jamie’s hold shifting so she can hold his hand. “I think there’s a good lyric somewhere in there.”

“You plannin’ on writing me a song?”

She smirks. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t yet.”

Jamie squeezes her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Can’t wait to hear it, love.”

___

there’s an ache in my bones to make a series out of this fic omg

i can’t believe the show’s over (is it tho????) so here’s some jamie fluff to heal our tender, mourning hearts. as always you’re welcome to tell me what you think and chat jamie and ted lasso as much as you’d like! thank u for reading AND for all the love on my last jamie piece that you can read here!

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

#commissions and asks are open!#leo writes #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #phil dunster #roy kent #brett goldstein #rebecca welton #hannah waddingham #keeley jones #juno temple #sam obisanya #toheeb jimoh #i had so much fun w this i hope i do write more of them #reader insert

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randomgurl2326 · 10 months

Text

Run

Summary: the one where Carl almost gets his ass beat

It was a sweltering hot day in Alexandria; which means everyone is wearing revealing clothes. Including my dad…not the best sight to see.

For those who don’t know, my dad is Daryl motherfucking Dixon. I know, the redneck of the apocalypse. Clearly the overprotective daddy he is, he does not approve of me wearing revealing clothes, but oh well too bad dear father of mine.

Yes, the leaders son with the right hand-man’s daughter. Some people say meant to be, some say what the fuck. The ‘what the fuck’ one being my dad, my protector, my best friend. But in all honesty he loves me with Carl and that puts a nice smile on my face.

But today everyone was going to hang out by the pond closer to Alexandria. Everyone being my Dad, Rick(who I insist on calling Mr. Grimes), Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, and of course my oh so handsome boyfriend: Carl Grimes.

As I said before, to my father’s chagrin I was wearing revealing shorts, sort of, kinda, totally showing off a little bit of my ass, which my boyfriend was definitely enjoying a little bit too much for my father’s liking, which brings us to now…

“Hey kid, stop starin’ at my daughter’s ass,” this response from my dad to Car staring at my butt caused a lot of ‘oooooo’s from the group. My mouth fell open a little bit and I looked back at daddy and Carl and yell out, “Dad!”

My sudden scream of disapproval from me got a few laughs. Glenn looked over to me and said, “Oh my sweet little Y/N, when will you learn that this will not end.” He trailed off a little at the end with slight laugh, turning back to Maggie.

Carl puts his arm around my waist, and looks down at me with a smile, “Hey, darlin’, he’s right you know, I won’t get over this ass.” At the and of his sentence he grabbed at my ass and I swatted his hand away, grabbing his hat. “You’ll get this back when you learn how to behave, darlin’,” I said mocking his lil’ pet name he had for me since the start.

He pouted a little and said, “you know you love me.” I shook my head with a little laugh and looked down, then looking up into his eye a second later. “I know I do, but if you keep doin’ that my daddy is gonna beat your ass.” He smirked before licking his lips and looking around, “I thought I was your daddy.”

His response must’ve been a little too loud because everyone started laughing, my mouth was open with a dumbfounded expression, and my dad looked at Carl pissed. My dad started coming toward us and I looked to my scared boyfriend and kissed him quickly. “Run, Carl. RUN,” I said while pushing him, encouraging him to book it.

Carl finally ran with my dad trailing close behind him, everyone else laughing. I though Carl was actually gonna make it…until he tripped over a stick and daddy picked him up by the collar and pushing him against the tree.

“Boy, I’m gonna give you two seconds to convince me you should live…”

A/N: I believe this was my first real work I have ever published on Tumblr and please, please, please give me some constructive criticism. Or just feedback in general, that would be greatly appreciated. Also if you want to be added to any taglists for fandoms and/or characters or ask what fandoms or characters I wrote for, or just need to talk in general; I am almost always up, so please feel free to reach out. I love ya’ll.

Taglist: none yet

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thewritingginger · 11 months

Text

18+ Imagine Taiju Shiba...

& you having hate sex.

I finally got around to watching the 2nd season of TR I’ve read the entire manga but seeing my bae Taiju animated got the wheels in my head turnin’ 😩

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Taiju Shiba x Fem! Reader Word count: 1.1k+ words Warnings: 18+, Established relationship, Argument, Dub-con, Dirty talk, Oral sex (M! receiving), Rough sex, Slight degrading, Spanking, Creampie, Poorly edited

Enjoy ~

The two of you had been at each other's throats for the past hour and that’s not even including the car ride home and before. It’s been a while since the two of you had gotten this heated with each other. Taiju was already irritable from the moment he had woken up this morning and you knew better than to poke the bear when he is in one of his moods.

Shit had been going down with the staffing at his restaurant and to top it off there had been some family drama stirring up and the moment you tried to mediate you were in hot water since you first opened your mouth to now in your living room where the both of you are yelling over each other.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that it is Shiba family matters. You have no place to stick your nose into it.” That got to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry I was under the impression that I was your family or does this ring on my finger mean nothing?”

“Don’t try to pull that shit, you know you had no business getting between me and my brother.” Back and forth you two go, like a broken record the same words keep getting reused and rehashed—making this mess into a disaster till you finally had enough.

“You know what, I don't have to deal with this,” you say, throwing your hands in the air, “I’m leaving!” Turning on your heel, grabbing your purse off the kitchen counter.

“No the fuck you’re not,” Taiju says, heavy footstep sounding behind you.

“Yes the fuck I am,” you counter but before your hand can touch the front door handle Taiju grabs your wrist and turns your back to the door, his towering figure looming over you.

“You’re not leaving this damn house.” Leaning over you till your noses are centimeters apart, you daringly cross the distance till they are touching.

“Or what?” you taunt, any sane person would know this to be a death wish but you’re too fired up with rage to care which only fans the fury burning behind your fiance’s amber eyes.

In a blink of an eye your body becomes weightless, Taiju lifts you up and slams your back against the door before he takes your lips with his. Limbs tightening, teeth clashing and hair pulling—the two of you become a tangled mess of hot breath and lust.

Sitting on the kitchen counter with articles of clothing falling off by the second, you feel Taiju’s hard cock grinding against you. A strangled cry falls from your lips when he pulls your head back by your hair, his strong hand firmly holding your roots, leaving you little room to move.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you wont be able to walk out that damn door.”

“Bite me,” you say before he cuts you off with his hungry mouth, he takes you back to the living room where he unceremoniously tosses you onto the couch. You watch as he tears off his remaining clothes till he is standing completely naked, his powerful body on full display. Straddling your torso, Taiju yanks you up right by your hair once more and rubs his leaking cockhead against your mouth.

“Open,” he commands, “I’m going to fuck the smart ass right out of this fucking mouth of yours.” His other hand pries your mouth open just enough for him to sheath his thick length down your throat till you gag. You look pitiful with your mouth stretched wide, drool seeping from the corners of your lips and his balls smacking your chin as tears fall down your cheeks. Your hands grip his thighs for support, your nails digging into his muscle so hard you could draw blood.

“Such a good little cock slut. You think you’ve learned your lesson?” he asks, roughly pulling out of your mouth allowing you breath, spit falling from your lips as you gasp for air.

“Go to hell,” you spit. With nothing but a growl as his response Taiju quickly flips you over till you are holding onto the back of the couch. Pulling your work skirt up over your hips, Taiju’s strong hand comes down on your bare asscheek with a hard smack!

Pulling your panties to the side he stuffs his throbbing cock into your pussy and begins to pound into you with as much force as he can muster. Every harsh pump, an expression of his anger.

“Filthy little cunt already soaking wet for me. You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? Like talking back to me, knowing I’ll fuck the brat right out of you?” His taunts hiss between his gritted teeth, his hand spanking your ass over and over again till you cry out.

“Fuck!” you cry, your head hanging down before he pulls it back up till you’re looking at yourself in the reflection of the dark window, his mouth right next to your ear.

“Look at yourself as you take my cock—Shit!” he yells, standing back, one hand in your hair and the other pulling your hips back to him as he watches your greedy pussy swallow his thick length.

“Yes, Taiju! Fuck me like you mean it,” you moan, he laughs at your meager attempts at remaining mad at him but the truth is you love him and you love this. He makes your body feel on fire, the way he uses his strength against you is more powerful than any drug you can find.

“Always trying to act all big and bad but you’re nothing but putty in my hand—or should I say on my cock.” His voice is condescending and annoying but all that goes out the window when he releases your hip to scratch at your neglected clitoris, shooting you over the edge. Incoherent wails and words fall from your lips as he continues to piston his cock in your exhausted cunt and you can hear that your fiance isn’t far behind.

“Fuck, Baby, you’re squeezing my cock so tight,” he groans, releasing you entirely to pull your hips back with both hands, his pumps becoming stuttered and impatient for his end. “You want my cum, Baby? Want me to fill you nice and full?”

“Yes. Yes!” you cry, a second high drawing near. Reaching between your legs you rub your clitoris with quick circles as Taiju finally erupts within you, his hip still using you to milk every drop from his balls taking you over the edge with him one last time.

The two of you are hunched over the couch, heaving for breath, collecting yourselves from your heated joining. Your dazed thoughts are brought back when you feel Taiju’s lips pressing against your bare shoulder.

“I love you,” he grumbles in a low voice, much softer than he was moments before, “I’m sorry.” His apology is sincere, looking over your shoulder you give him a smile.

“I’m sorry too.” Pulling out of you, you were about to go to the bathroom to clean up but Tiaju throws you over his shoulder and heads towards the stairs. “Tai!”

“Sorry, Sweetheart but I still have some anger left to get out.”

I hope you enjoyed it!

Feedback & interaction is alway appreciated!

💛 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Let me know if you want to be part of my tag list [HERE]

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev taiju shiba #tokyorev taiju #taiju shiba #taiju x reader #taiju shiba x reader #taiju smut #tokyorev smut #x reader #x fem!reader #*nsfw

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lisafication · 6 months

Text

Digging Graves for your Morals; Or, The Ethical Problem of Outlawry

Hello, yes, I am here again. This one is shorter, I swear (it’s under four thousand words, even). If this is the first post from me you’re seeing, this is a follow-up to my prior essay posted here on the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, although it should be able to mostly stand alone.

At the end of my last essay, I touched on both the game’s nearly uncompromising moral scepticism and relativity, but I didn’t really dig into it. I outlined that the game only textually frames actions as ‘morally bad’ in the context of a morality set by the society and the world that has treated them as no better than farm animals raised for the slaughter. Well, I have a lot to say on the topic of ethics on the topic of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, so buckle in, this one’s going to talk about the social contract, moral scepticism and everyone’s favourite topic: Mrs. Graves.

As usual, this was originally posted and formatted for on Sufficient Velocity and you can perhaps more easily read it there. Spoilers abound, and my content warning from last time still applies.

She’s not too hot on either ethics or her mother

The Meat of the Matter

Since a lot of this is optional or otherwise missable information, let’s review the premise the game gives us. If you’re already aware of all of this, I apologise, it won’t take long.

First off the bat, the quarantine at the start of the game was a hoax-driven money-making scheme of which you can pick up more-or-less all the relevant details of. This is entirely missable and by the time it’s possible to discover, our protagonists have better things to dwell on and have dialogue about, so I’ll give you a summary of what you can deduce from reading the notes and thinking about it.

The quarantine is an organ harvesting operation, as per some documents you can discover in the wardens’ office. They entrap the residents, test their blood types and starve to death those they deem surplus to requirements — alternatively the starvation itself could be their method of ‘preparing the harvest’, there’s evidence in both directions and it hardly matters — harvesting the organs of the others for sale. As our protagonists are AB-typed, the ‘universal recipient’ or ‘most selfish blood type’, they’re some of the first on the chopping block.

If you read through the newspapers and the documents in Mr. Washing Machine’s car, you can discover that ultimately ToxiSoda are responsible, and a similar thing is happening in a different city under the guise of a ‘chemical leak’. Should you further investigate matters, you will find mentions of the ‘man behind it all’, the doctor, or the Surgeon, as the fandom have been referring to him — you may recall Mrs. Graves mentioned someone similar! Yeah, he’s the guy who runs ToxiSoda, who are themselves partners with the water company that faked the parasite outbreak in the first place.

It’s all a life insurance scam, apparently

How much the details of the operation matter is something open to interpretation — it might just be something for players to figure out and Episode 3 will not cover the Surgeon at all, or he might play a major part; it's not particularly relevant to this essay. What matters is that it happened at all — indeed, it’s fairly easy to justify Ashley and Andrew in everything they did in Episode 1 (flashbacks aside), arguing that if they’d made any other decisions they’d have died — an argument that the victims dug their own graves, even if the Graves siblings put them in them. How correct that is is a matter of debate, but that you can make the argument at all matters, and we’ll be returning to this later. In my last essay (and again in the introduction here), I made an analogy to farm animals, raised without love and for slaughter. Let’s put a pin in the ‘for slaughter’ part for now and take a look at the ‘without love’ part.

That’s right, it’s time to meet the parents.

As Andrew notes, there are significantly more compelling reasons for you to say that

They Fuck You Up, Your Mum & Dad

They really do.

Our charming protagonists are, as with many things depicted in this game, an exaggerated, almost farcical example of this phenomenon — one that’s just grounded enough to still feel very real, just like the siblings themselves.

The late and lamentable Mrs. Graves is just the same: originally a teen mother, hopelessly out of depth with two difficult children — even if one was good at masking it — and an unreliable, emotionally unavailable (at least to their children) partner who can’t hold down a job, ends up foisting them off on each other and doing a Parental Negligence because she simply Cannot Cope. That’s the real part. The part where she gets paid off by an organ harvesting operation to leave them to die, that’s the borderline-farcical exaggeration that throws all the nooks and crannies of her character into sharp relief.

Mrs. Graves does not have a good relationship with either of her kids. Having self-admittedly fobbed the job of raising Ashley off on her son, to the degree that they did not even celebrate her birthday as kids, both of them hold differing degrees and types of resentment for her.

For Ashley, it’s hate — perhaps not quite so clear cut as that, as it’s her that calls for the eulogy and she shows some potential signs of discomfort while cleaning up her parents’ corpses, but by and large, it’s fairly simple and straightforward, as usual for Ashley. The sentiment is not exactly unreturned, either.

This brings Ashley’s heart great delight!

The most clear incident raising her from everyday ‘neglectful’ to ‘wow she wanted nothing to do with this kid’ is the optional ‘birthday cake’ scene, obtained by finding the present in Ashley’s first ‘transitory world’ dream, in which we see Ashley’s birthday and the founding of a lemon cupcake tradition between Leyley and Andy. She has received nothing from her family, notes that her ‘friends’ would say they were busy before she even told them the schedule and Andy takes her out to buy cupcakes with his pocket money.

This scene gets a callback in Andrew’s dream later. Just remember to Ask Nicely, rather than Kill Her.

Parents of the year, everyone.

So with Ashley it’s as straightforward and obvious as she herself is — she hates her mother, her mother hates her. With Andrew, as with Andrew himself, it’s a fair bit more complicated. His mother is a much more nuanced figure, who is believable in her role as an unfortunate teen parent who was trying her best. He has a degree of trust in her against, seemingly, his own good judgment In her conversation with Andrew, she acknowledges her fault in raising him and seemingly sincerely tries to offer him a ‘way out’, an olive branch.

I think many people have had relationships where they might say this

This scene in particular intrigues me, because she is acknowledging fault in a way that Andrew strictly avoids doing — and well, there’s nothing Andrew likes more than a good way to avoid acknowledging any fault of his own. With her dominant relationship over their father as a model for Andrew to draw comparisons to his own relationship with Ashley with, it’s no surprise that the narrative resonates with him to the point of ‘Accept’ being many people’s first completion.

Of course, that’s not all there is to it. There is a fascinating contrast with her later conversation with Ashley, where she — despite accusing Ashley of brainwashing Andrew — refers to Leyley and Andy as ‘two psychos’ and states that she always knew they were responsible for Nina’s death and that, implicitly, they owe her for not turning them in.

There's something about mother-daughter relationships here that I just do not have the time or reading to dig into, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, when Andrew interrogates her on her possession of their death certificates, she has… an interesting, plausible story about a life insurance scam and claims that she really did think they died in the fire, implicitly denying the claim that she sold them. It’s entirely possible that she’s describing the details of the ‘scam’ correctly — you can even buy that she genuinely does care for Andrew in some way, if not Ashley, but her claim about being an honest, grieving parent shocked at their deaths… doesn’t add up?

This is a very normal reaction to your supposedly dead children showing up in your house.

As Andrew himself notes after hearing her story, she’s full of shit. This gets into speculation, because there are a few ways to read this, but the most plausible ‘gist’ is that she and her partner were paid off in money and jobs to not raise a fuss — the surgeon she mentioned is almost certainly the founder of ToxiSoda, remember?

The overwhelming difference in presentation between how she speaks to Andrew and Ashley invites investigation — and when Andrew turns down her offer and tells her he isn’t interested in her offer in Decline, her reaction isn’t… despair, it’s shock — and well, there’s a good reason for that.

Why do you think she did it in the first place?

This is the happiest we see her

Well — it’s so she can finally fit into society. That white picket fence, that idyllic 1950s life — hell you can call it the American Dream. She wants that, or as close to it as she can get — the working-class teen mother, living in poverty, aspiring to the middle-class. It’s a very common, very real and very grounded motivation.

And to that end, she effectively sold off her children. It’s no wonder she can’t fathom why Andrew wouldn’t choose the same.

That’s the part that makes you think — just like the deaths in Episode 1, well- maybe the siblings are justified here, too. It’s a weaker argument, but it’s still one you can make under many common moral paradigms today — what goes around comes around, all that jazz. Just look at how awful she was to Ashley.

She’s finally found what she’s been striving for.

Here’s the thing, here’s the thing though — what, reasonably, could she have done? Andrew and Ashley briefly highlight this in conversation about Ashley’s ‘friends’ in Episode 1 — was she supposed to fight gunmen to try and break them out? Throw food to the balcony from four stories?

Moreover, as she herself says to Andrew… would anyone really have been able to do better than her in her position? She was seventeen when Ashley was born, living in poverty with a partner who couldn’t even remember Andrew’s name when he was a kid. Anyone would have had difficulty, let alone with these kids.

Her evils are — they’re not any deliberate action, but rather… prompted inaction. She didn’t have the emotional energy, resources or plain capability to properly parent her children, she didn’t have any solutions to their murder of Nina in a state so blatantly hostile to its underclass, she didn’t have a way to connect with Ashley and she took the money rather than fight a futile and likely suicidal battle against a corporation and its armed goons in a dystopian setting.

Ashley, notably, does not deny this.

Her sin is the one we’re all, I think, guilty of — that of not trying hard enough, that of inaction in the face of difficult tasks, of not standing up on principle because it’s just too much that day and you don’t have the spoons, you’ll do it tomorrow (no you won’t). It’s a petty, everyday kind of evil — that of not doing enough.

Is that enough to condemn her? Certainly, there’s a pretty manipulative read of her that likely has some truth to it — in the locked door in Ashley’s dream in ‘Decay’ you can discover that she has a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul — but consider that lens — the game won’t make up your mind for you, so you’ll need to choose that for yourself.

The dad is interesting in terms of negative space — but he’s mostly important in that he doesn’t matter, so I decided to not fit him in here. He has art, though — just no sprite, because, well, he’s never mattered to either sibling.

The Contract We Call Society

Right, it’s time to get a little bit Theoretical in here. Not much, but a little. Social contract theory is a complex topic with a lot of nuance, much of which I will be eliding in the name of not writing a twenty thousand word paper on semiotics, law, and anthropology, but the short analogy is… the idea that as long as you play by society’s rules, as long as you are a good citizen, a good person, the state, or the community, will take care of you.

In a number of ways, the harshest penalty levied by many historical states and legal codes was not death, but rather the criminal status of outlawry, a practice that’s cropped up a number of times in history — the practice of no longer being protected by the law. This meant one could be killed or worse with impunity — you were no longer protected by mob justice and, while overexaggerated as a term of reference, certain texts from Medieval England refer to outlaws as bearing a wolfshead, ‘for the wolf is a beast hated by all folk’. Never minding that wolves are actually delightful, this was a time when wolves were actively hunted and sold by people — and the same was intended to happen to outlaws. They were ‘fair targets’ as far as society was concerned, no longer to be treated as your fellow citizens.

This was the gravest punishment on the books, for most of these legal codes — something saved for those who had broken the social contract so completely that there could be no turning back (civil outlawry is… a bit different, that’s not the topic here). Among others, a modern critique of the concept is that it offers no incentive for improvement, no incentive to change or to cease harming society — if an outlaw has none of the social contract’s protections, what reason do they have to obey… any of the social contract? If that seems familiar, well, let me ask you this:

What if the state or community fails its end first? What responsibility does the innocent outlaw have to that contract?

It’s an interesting phrasing, that the world is better off.

It’s time to talk about the incest, and part of why it’s there. The cannibalism too, but that’s less impactful here. If you’ve seen me elsewhere, you might have seen me say that the incest is a load-bearing narrative pillar — in large part due to it being a critical facet of the siblings’ relationship, but in another large part due to it being an equally critical part of how the game uses taboo.

A taboo is in this context something that is considered repulsive and to be avoided by society. It’s a more complex term than that — you can also use it for certain sacred actions or utterances that are only permitted to certain people, for example — but that’s what it is here. Swearing, premarital sex, BDSM and murder are, approximately from weak to strong, some example taboos held in modern Anglospheric society.

Strong taboos are a staple of horror — they shock, they disgust, they draw people’s attention and it’s that last one that’s critical here. Incest is a very strong taboo — while I am absolutely not segueing into its historical context, the very well-established Westermarck effect gives it a certain timelessness and immunity to desensitisation that most other taboos don’t have — murder, to contrast, is a taboo we’re largely desensitised to in modern media and works of modern media have to put in actual work to make a murder seem horrifying — through atmosphere, cinematography, evocative prose etc.

And this is important because the use of taboo I’m covering in this essay is that the incest is used to invite judgment — it is so ingrained as a ‘wrong thing’ in people’s brains almost regardless of background that it forces the player to engage with the work morally. And that’s where the fun starts.

I’ve mentioned before, very briefly, about the juxtaposition of tone between the Burial & Decay endings, contrasting with the very monstrous difference in morality. Burial is remarkably light-hearted — they play around with the drain blockage, they joke about their mother’s personality and this is further exaggerated on the Love path, where Andrew is much more comfortable with casual contact and the two make a game out of how far they can throw their parents’ skulls, the humour is directly contrasted against their abhorrent actions.

I’ll be real Ashley is far more merciful than I, I’m shuddering at the thought of that gunk in my hair

In comparison, Decay is… bleak. I’ve seen it being referred to as being ‘emotionally sandblasted’ and, yeah I think that’s fair — it’s uncomfortable, it’s heavy and it’s just not fun. And this is the route in which, if you chose Trust into Accept, Andrew has bought into the narrative that his mother’s offered — that he can fit just fine into society if he wasn’t stuck, if not for Ashley — the route that ‘fits’ most closely to the social contract, to Andrew feeling the guilt that we think he should and hating the monsters that they’ve become, as the social contract deems them. Given the pains the game takes to attach the player to the protagonists, this normative moral ending is very easily interpreted as the bad ending.

And well, isn’t it?

Thing is, as mentioned above, the social contract has never held up its end for them. The game takes careful pains to point out to a viewer that they’ve never had the life that society promises people, so why do its moral standards apply?

The game invites you to judge the characters, and in the same motion, asks you from what principles you judge them, making a pretty good guess in that, like most people who haven’t spent a large amount of time navel-gazing and reading some very boring books by very dusty old men, they come from the society around you.

Love even has Ashley express this sentiment directly after the incestuous dream — she asks you — well, Andrew, but this is also something for the player to mull over — why this is what’s engaged your morality or sense of revulsion, rather than the desecration, cannibalism or murder.

Andrew and Ashley are both very funny and very fascinating in this scene.

And that’s the framing that it casts all of its own moral judgement in — even the ‘tar-soul’ aspect is… well, it’s unclear what it even means. Mrs. Graves was a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul, after all. Other than that, it’s society and the world being better off without them, rather than any kind of assertion of objective morality. Due to the present of ‘soul colour’, we’ll presumably see the game make some moral statements in Episode 3, but as it stands?

It’s nearly completely morally sceptical, in and of itself — it’s not interested in moral assertions or education, it’s interested in making you question your own morals. Deconstructive (not that kind), rather than dialectic, to be mildly pretentious.

It uses taboo and shock to invite moral judgement, but then uses tone, charm and our instinct to look for the happiest end for our blorbos to get you to recognise that these are principles you yourself brought into the game, rather than any it’s handed you.

To summarise: you’ve brought these principles in from society, but what do the siblings, the protagonists, the villains to the world, owe society? Enough that they should follow them? It failed them first, after all.

Closing Thoughts

This one is a bit less energetic than the last, tragically — my sleeping schedule is the stuff of nightmares recently, I love windy weather. Wait, no the opposite. Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the last one, you are the wind beneath my wings and the main reason I managed to get this out this week.

This essay is a bit more interpretative than my last one — certainly, there are alternative readings and I’ve been toying with the idea of deliberately taking a reading I don’t like very much and writing from that perspective as a demonstrative exercise recently — mostly that you shouldn’t just take my word for things!

Otherwise, if the last bit at the end seemed murky, I apologise — I did try to write a more detailed version, but firstly, it was three thousand words and secondly, I re-read it the next day and I could not understand what the fuck I was talking about. Personally, I blame Derrida — suffice to say that I strongly recommend playing through it with an eye towards considering culpability, morality and why you think certain characters are more or less forgivable than others, and for what deeds. See what you get out of it.

I managed to keep one particular thread open to wrap up with here — I try to keep speculation on Episode 3 content to a minimum in the main essays, but it should be fine here — you might have noticed that I refer to Episode 1 and Episode 2 being on something of a spectrum of justifiability, with the siblings’ actions being ‘more’ justifiable in Episode 1 and ‘less’ justifiable — but still justifiable if you try — in Episode 2.

To continue the thought of the happiest ending being the one in which they step the furthest away from common morality and to further jar the viewers’ sense of morality by contrasting societal morality and blorbo-oriented morality, Episode 3: Burial could continue this trend in having a major victim be someone who, well, has done nothing wrong and isn’t even guilty of bystander syndrome.

I wonder if there’s any good candidates, someone who’s sweet, harmless and will indisputably be an innocent victim…

…I’m sure she’ll be fine

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #analysis #essay #ashley graves #andrew graves #mrs graves #nnnnot sure what the next topic will be #might do a deranged take on purpose #this one and the last one have been very grounded #I'll get to my asks tomorrow #probably #I've been busy sorry

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reallyromealone · 1 day

Text

Title: fitness

Fandom: none applicable

Characters: werewolf - reader -

Fic type: story

Pairings: werewolf x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, female character, female werewolf, wife, heterosexual relationship, buff wife, house husband reader, bunny reader

Notes:finally I get to write fem character x male reader (yes you can request that btw)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) Was always in awe at his wife, the tall muscular woman who could birthed their three beautiful children and (name) just was so stupidly in love.

And she was also in love with her sweet loving husband, a werewolf and a rabbit Okami were an interesting couple but she couldn't be happier.

"You wanna work out babe?" She asked (name) who nodded, his adorable apron around his waist, the house husband of their relationship "I wanna get jacked up! Strong like my wife!" He said excitedly as he looked up at the other, the 6'8 woman, just barely hitting her shoulder "alright babe but we're gonna be serious about this" she said to her husband, she knew him well.

"Go papa!" Their eight year old yelled as their ten year old recorded and the five year old looked a little confused but happy to be there, the werewolf woman looking at her rabbit husband who was in gym shorts, a t-shirt and sweatbands "let's do some stretches to warm up your bones baby" she said and (name) nodded, the family at a public track area as (name) didn't feel comfortable being at a gym quite yet. The woman noticed her husband's cotton tail twitching excitedly as they stretched, she liked how serious he was taking it.

Though she couldn't figure out why, her husband was a complete homebody who typically used all his energy playing those dance games with the kids.

The two exercised for an hour before the woman carried her short king husband who was drained from it all, to be fair he did not exercise much at all.

"Papa's sleepy!" The youngest giggled as she held her eldest siblings hand, the family getting into the car and everyone settled in and (name) exhausted from it all.

"How do you do that every day!" (Name) Grumbled to his wife as he plopped on the bed post shower, the woman snorting at him "practice and discipline" the bunny turning to stick his tongue out at her "so why the sudden interest in fitness, you hate exercise unless you get cookies" she teased (name) as the other looked away "I... It's stupid"

"Talk to me" she said worried for her husband and (name) looked down and fidgeted "your brother made comments about how small I am again, I'm not the strongest and you're strong and cool and he didn't see how our relationship made sense and--""my brother is an idiot" she said simply and pulled her husband into her chest "I love you the way you are, you're cute and sweet and caring" she said moving his face to kiss him "I like that you enjoy taking the more feminine roles and don't try and put those on me and still recognize that I'm your wife" he gets excited when she wears suits or pretty dresses, their wedding he kept whispering 'wife' repeatedly as he practically vibrated with joy.

"I like you just as you are, just as you like me how I am" she said lovingly and (name) smiled goofily at her "now don't listen to my idiot brother, he's single and gets no dates and you're married with three kids" she said kissing all over his face and (name) hugged her "now, let's go order dinner, you're in no position to cook after that stunt at the track"

"I ONLY TRIPPED TWICE!"

"and yet you fell like you slipped on a banana"

#character x male reader #oc x male reader #oc x reader #male reader #x male reader #character x reader #oc fanfiction #werewolf oc #werewolf x reader #werewolf x male reader

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plentyoffandoms · 7 months

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Glittery Green (Part 14) (18+)

Gwi-nam x f/Reader

the wearer is willing to "69"

Main Masterlist ♡ All Of Us Are Dead Masterlist ♡ Yoon Gwi-nam Masterlist ♡ Jelly Bracelets Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Am I late to this fandom? Oh hell, yes, but the show was so good.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @walksdowonders 2nd gif @dramastream

GWI-NAM'S POV:

I kissed up and down her neck, my fingers gently thrusting inside her pussy. "Gwi-nam." She sighed my name, tilting her head to side.

"Why don't you take off that dress and stand next to my bed."

"But,"

"No baby, just trust me. I have missed you and I want to make it up for the lost time."

She slid off my lap and went and did as I asked. I palmed myself through my pants as she slowly stripped for me.

"All off it, YN."

"Are you going to strip?"

"I will. Don't you worry about that." My breathing picked up when I finally saw her in all her glory. I have seen bits and pieces of her body, but not like this.

"Gwi-nam, please." She whispered, but I heard her.

I took off my suit, and for the first time, the two of us were naked. I took a few steps and wrapped my arms her and slammed my lips against hers once more.

Her arms wrapped around my neck and kissed me back. I pulled back as I needed air, the two of us trying to catch our breath.

I let her go and lay on my bed. I made sure I was flat on my back. "Break the glittery green one for me."

The wearer is willing to "69"

"Now climb on top of me. Face the other way." She hesitated, but did as I asked.

"Just like that. Yes, now do what you did in my car, and I will do what I did that other day." I gripped her hips and pulled her pussy towards my face.

I dove right in and started to eat her out, groaning at the taste of her. Fuck, I have missed this.

I groaned against her pussy when she took me in her mouth. My hips lifted off the bed, and I went deeper in her mouth and down her throat.

She gagged around my cock, but didn't stop until I was fully in her mouth. I wanted nothing more than to flip us over and pound into her face, but I just got her back.

I inserted one finger inside her pussy once more, then another one. My lips wrapped her clit and I sucked.

She was dripping down my chin and on my face, and I was loving every damn second of this. When she stopped talking to me, I thought I would never get to this point or have my cock down her throat again.

Speaking of that, her head was going up and down. "Just like that, YN. Gonna cum down your throat and you're gonna swallow it all." I growled against her pussy before I went back to licking.

She ground her pussy harder against my face. I knew she was close. She was dripping even more now and her pussy was fluttering around my fingers.

She pulled off my cock and moaned my name loudly. I fingered and licked her through her orgasm.

YN'S POV

I felt it before I even came. I pulled my mouth off of his cock and moaned his name, loudly. If he didn't have the top two floors, the neighbours would be complaining about how loud I moaned his name.

He continued to fuck me with his fingers and his mouth and tongue never let up as I shook on top of him.

I took him back in my mouth, working his cock back down my throat. Moving my head up and down.

I was into making him finish in my mouth, remembering the sounds he made the last time.

I didn't notice him plant his feet flat on his bed until I felt his hands on the back of my head as he started to thrust up into my mouth.

"Take it. Take that cock."

"Fuck yes. Gonna come. Fuck me. Shit YN." The last part came out in a groan, and the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat.

I swallowed as fast as I could, not wanting to miss a single drop. He made sure of it by his tight grip on my head.

"Shit. I could spend every day in your mouth." He said.

My pussy clenched around nothing at the thought of him doing that.

Red (Part 13) ♣︎ Black (Part 15) (18+)

Gwi-nam taglist: line through, won't let me tag @thefrogqueen8 @leia2cool @skz-tua-txt-storytimes

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bad268 · 7 months

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Nightmare (Lando Norris X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Day 15 of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: Car crash (non descriptive, just mentioned), based on 2021 Belgium Q3 crash, panic, Sebastian Vettel being a dad lol.

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 419

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2023 Masterlist

~~(^Google/multi-year contract announcement)

He was on a roll this weekend. He was just in his element, dominating the practice sessions and the first two qualifying sessions. There was only one problem. The rain on the track proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated.

"It's getting pretty bad out there," I said to one of the engineers, "Are they gonna make him abandon the lap?" I did not have to wait for an answer as suddenly everything went silent. I looked up at the screen that showed Lando's point of view, but all I saw was a wall.

This was a nightmare, it had to be. Lando's race engineer was talking, but I couldn't hear anything coming back. What if Lando is unconscious? Or worse?

Nothing was registering until I felt someone's arms wrap around my shoulders. They turned me away from the screens and pulled me deeper into the garage, away from the cameras.

"Y/n, take a breath. He's at the medic center, but he's fine," They reassured once we got into Lando's driver's room. After a few minutes, the haze lifted, and I was able to register everything around me. Sebastian was the one to calm me down, and once he noticed that my breathing had calmed down, he turned around to grab the umbrella that Lando brought with us this morning. "Here," he handed it to me, "I'll walk you over to the medic center."

"You should be racing," I laughed weakly, taking the umbrella and walking out of the room.

"Red flagged because of the rain. They should've done it earlier, but you know the stewards," He laughed dismissively as he followed me out.

It was raining even worse now, but we made it to the center in no time. Seb had to head back, but I walked in, seeing Lando sitting unhappily on the bed as a nurse checked on him.

"Just whiplash," he laughed lightly, holding his hand out to me. I grabbed his hand, placing a finger on his pulse point. "Yes, I am alive."

"Your heartbeat is crazy," I whispered, rubbing up and down his arm to calm him down.

"Yours is probably just as bad," He chuckled, pulling me into his arms. The nurse had left as there were no pressing injuries. His arms ran up and down my back, as mine played with his hair. He laid his forehead against mine and after a few minutes of just breathing each other in, he whispered, "Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

~~~~~

#lando norris x reader #writing inktober 2023 #bad268 #lando norris #formula 1 #f1 #ship268 #thing268

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littlecello · 6 months

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Lazarus: An Autopsy

So. I just got back home, and though I have to get up at stupid o'clock for work tomorrow morning, I am sitting down at my computer to give you all as much of a detailed write-up of the table read as I can. Please bear in mind these are my and Fern's opinions personal opinions, so if you disagree with anything said here, that's totally fine! This is all coming from the perspective of people who have been in the fandom since 2012 and 2009 respectively, and both of us love the show very dearly.

Now, without further ado - here is a summary and discussion of the table-read of the pilot episode of Lazarus. The detailed write-up is under the cut, but I want to share this shaky train-doodle I banged out on the way home to give shape to my own feelings:

Set Up

This was a dramatic table-read, meaning actors were sat on stage, taking the roles of the main and side characters, plus one narrator who read out the scene-set ups in the script. This was a complete reading of the pilot-episode as it would have aired on TV, complete with songs playing over the speakers as they appeared in the show (off the top of my head - Another Brick In The Wall, Somewhere Over The Rainbow (Ukulele Version), Life on Mars (yes they went there), Merry Christmas Everybody, and several more). It's important to note that this was not performed by the original actors; rather, they brought in a troupe of actors associated with the BFI, called the BFI Players. Unfortunately they aren't credited on the BFI website and there were no printed programme notes, so I can't tell you their names. Notably, though, Ashley Pharoah (co-writer of LoM) was present; after the table-read, there was a short-ish Q&A session.

Lazarus Pilot: A Summary

We start in 2024, with a car chase. Sam Tyler, now DCI of Internal Affairs of Greater Manchester Police, is hot on the pursuit of a Constable who we later learn has raped multiple women while on duty. Notably, Sam is driving exactly the way Gene would, ignoring regulations, nearly running over pedestrians and a cyclist. Sam apprehends the PC on the campus of Manchester University, which is filmed by the assembled students of the lecture that's been interrupted (a quote from the script: "heteronormative queer trans students") - that video subsequently goes viral as another example of police violence. It's clear that the PC is guilty of his crime, but he's let off, and most of CID pretty much turns against Sam. Sam's DI, incidentally, is biromantic and asexual, which is also turned into a joke with Sam making some acephobic remarks.

The next day, Sam finds the rapist PC dead - hanging from a lamppost as though he's died by suicide. CCTV reveals that about an hour before his death, a car idled in front of his home, and the PC had hurled abuse at said car. The driver cannot be seen. That same car is seen at a carehome in Didsbury, idling there just like it did in front of that house... and that car is also confronted, by none other than a geriatric Gene Hunt.

Here is where we start to realise that this Sam is different. It seems he never went back to 1973. He never had that accident, he never met Gene Hunt - he is, however, married to Annie Cartwright (only until half of the episode though, at which point she says they need to get a divorce). A lot of anachronisms going on here, but those will get explained a little later in the episode. Sam also starts having visions - first of a Space Hopper that keeps passing him by, later Clangers from the Planet of the Clangers appear to him. He keeps remembering lines we've heard in Life on Mars ("I never stitched anyone up who didn't deserve it", "If you can feel things you are alive, but it's when you can't feel things that you know you aren't alive", etc). Eventually, he goes to visit Gene in the care home and invites him for a drive, to see if that will jog any memories.

Gene, however, has other ideas - he eventually forces Sam to stop by the roadside, insisting "I'm going back! I'm going BACK!" The two start arguing, and then it devolves into a physical fight, which pushes them into the road... at which point, they are both his by a car. A red Audi Quattro, in fact, and just as everything fades to black, we see someone with white cowboy boots and a white leather jacket get out of the car...

1977. Sam wakes up utterly hungover in the Cortina, next to Gene who's driving. These are their 70s selves. They get to the station, where they find out that they've both been suspended due to Gene assaulting the Superintendent ("I didn't assault him, I strategically placed him... in a bin."). The department has been disbanded and taken over by none other than Derek Litton. Sam and Gene leave, with Sam driving home... to his wife Annie. On his way, he realises that he must have dreamt about 2024, and obviously doesn't understand what is going on. He talks to Annie about it, who becomes upset that he's starting to talk about all the future stuff again. It becomes clear that the case that Sam was investigating in 2024 (the dead rapist PC) is mirrored in 1977. And, crucially, near the end of the episode we realise that Gene also has memories of what we saw happen in 2024... and just at the end, when Annie is on her own, she suddenly sees the video footage mentioned at the very top (the fight at the MU) playing on the TV, and realises that Sam was telling the truth.

The Good

Let me start with the really enjoyable part of this afternoon - the actors who performed the script for us. They all did a brilliant job, especially Sam's actor. I'm pretty sure he must have studied up on John Simm's performance, because he got Sam's tone and cadence so closely to the original that I could really believe he was the character. The production was done well too, with the songs being played over the speaker system; plus, the narrator was absolutely brilliant at setting the scene, reading the descriptive bits of the script with loads of character and humour. The other actors were great too (Litton got a fantastic impression). The only one I wasn't convinced by was Gene's actor, because he gave his Manc accent a very theatric drawl that sometimes made him sound like a pirate. Definitely didn't come close to Philip Glenister's brilliant delivery of his lines.

Speaking of lines, there were some genuinely funny jokes in this. The whole scene with Litton was hilarious, and some of the modern-day jokes landed quite well too (Sam's DI pulls an "ok boomer" on him, to which he responds "that's Gen X I'll have you know").

And of course, I have to mention that it was SO LOVELY to meet a bunch of you in person!!!! It was lovely to chat, and thank you especially to @bisexualroger and friends who came and said hello, you genuinely made my day 🥹 The Bad

Sigh. Buckle up.

This table-reading really cemented for me what I've been saying for several years: The writing in Life on Mars is very mediocre. What made the show so amazing and special was the fact that the crew and actors took that material and elevated it to the heights we know and love. If you take that away... All of its shortcomings become very glaring.

This was even more obvious with Lazarus. Although we have to remember that this was a pilot, which means it was basically a sales pitch to studios and as such they tried to cram as much exciting stuff into it as possible, on the whole it just came across as very confused and embarrassingly self-referential. The characters often (but not always) came across as caricatures of themselves. The script often pointed out the race/ethnicity of characters in ways that felt very unnecessary and strange (more on that later). Most of the dialogue that took place in 2024 was incredibly stilted (again, more on that in a little bit). Most crucially, although it's clear that Lazarus was trying to bring Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes together to tie them up in a neat little bow, it just felt far too all over the place, even for a set-up episode (Lazarus as a whole was planned to be two series with 6 episodes each, like LoM). The Ugly

Basically, this show was supposed to be commentary on the present-day commentary between the public and the police... written from the perspective of two Old White Men(tm) with an unhealthy amount of nostalgia for the past who seem to think of the police as literal guardian angel, which is why they made Gene an actual angel (this is confirmed by what Ashley told us the ending of Lazarus would have been, which I will write up tomorrow because this would be too much for this post).

So, what does that mean in practice? It means that everything that was set in 2024 was an absolute shitshow. There were jokes about "wokeness" in every scene - things such as gender identities, diversity, ethnic food, vegan food, recycling, climate activism and more were only ever played for laughs, with a clear emphasis that everything was better in the "good old days". Especially all the jokes about gender and sexuality made me so angry, seeing as the fandom who has kept the show alive for the last 10 years is overwhelmingly queer.

Worse than that, this show would have been absolutely choc-full of copaganda. We already learn in the pilot that the entire philosophy is that "bad cops" are simply "rotten apples" that need to be removed from the force, which can only happen from the inside (this is Sam's role as DCI of Internal Affairs). And also, the public are just way too mean to cops, for no reason whatsoever - this is very literally shown in a scene in 2024 where a male PC touches a drunk woman's arm in sympathy and she yells at him "DON'T TOUCH ME", whereas in a mirrored scene in 1977 we see a PC giving a woman advice, who seems to be extremely grateful for it and even squeezes his hand for it. Which, if you know ANYTHING about what was going in Manchester at the time, in the wake of the Yorkshire Ripper and the associated police failings, is laughable at best, and an insult at worst.

Furthermore, during the Q&A, Ashley Pharoah unintentionally told on himself and Matthew Graham. I'm paraphrasing, but he basically said that when they both realised during the watchalong on twitter back in 2021 there still were a lot of fans of the show, that's when they felt compelled to properly give Lazarus a go. It very much came across as him saying "we loved the attention and wanted more of it, oh and also we thought we had something to say about the state of affairs regarding the police". Which, as I have laid out above, frankly is a sick joke. After everything that's happened - the protests in 2020, the way police forces in the whole country handled the Sarah Everard case, the fact that the current Chief Superintendent of GMP is an old conservative guy - the fact that Matt and Ash had the audacity to shop a show like Lazarus around to be picked up for TV is... astonishing. The confidence of white men, eh?

In Conclusion

Both Fern and I are very, extremely glad that Lazarus was not, and never will be made into a TV show. We are very glad that we get to keep Sam, Gene, Annie and all the others as they are. And we are also very glad that we went to this table-read, since we can now stop wondering what could have been. It's done and dusted. And, funnily enough, this has invigorated my fandom fire for LoM. I now want to create art of the characters I've come to know and love, to reinforce who they are to me. They are our characters now, Ashley and Matt. You don't get to play with them anymore. You don't get to twist them and put them through the wringer.

Tl;Dr

#Life on Mars #Lazarus #drawing lark #cello rambles #uhh I don't know what else to tag #I don't want to start fandom drama but I also wanted to give my personal opinion #off to bed I go now

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elikajinnie · 3 months

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Young Love | Park Seonghwa X reader

a/n: This was posted on ao3, but now its here as well!

Genre: Fluff, minor angst, romance

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

In the vibrant world of K-pop, I found myself as an ardent fan of many Korean Pop bands. But none of them could ever beat Ateez, with their visual, stage presence, and amazing songs that had stolen my heart with their infectious music. My room was adorned with posters of them, and every song, every dance move was etched into my soul. But my admiration went beyond mere fandom – it was something deeper, something that resonated in the core of my being.

Being a dedicated student, if you could call it that, I was constantly running on caffeine and energy bars, trying to finish my work for the day. My eyelids were dropping, and the words on my textbook were blurring into a spiral of letters. "Ah, I can't do this," I thought, not hesitating to grab my phone. To my surprise, multiple notifications from my friends lit up the screen. "They have been talking for a while…" I unlocked my phone and opened the group chat.

"Amanda has sent a link."

Amanda: "ATEEZ IS COMING TO OUR TOWN, GUYS."

Soojin: "Wait, really?"

Athena: "OMG! IT'S REAL!"

Amanda: "@Y/N WAKE UP."

78+ unread messages.

I clutched my phone tightly, feeling like my whole world collapsed as I read my friends' chat. "They are coming… here? I can see them?" With shaky hands, I typed in a message.

Y/n: "We have to buy tickets."

Soojin: "YEAH, NO SHIT. LET'S GET VIP, GUYS."

Athena: "Isn't that too expensive?"

Soojin: "NOTHING IS TOO EXPENSIVE FOR THE NAME OF LOVE! RIGHT Y/N!?"

I groaned at Soojin's antics. "Name of love… yeah, more like me being delusional," I thought.

Y/n: "Very funny."

Amanda: "Come on Y/n, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Soojin: "I AM CURRENTLY IN THE QUEUE, GUYS."

Athena: "You are seriously buying VIP tickets??!"

Soojin: "YES!"

I let out a sigh before putting my phone down and going on my computer to open the ticket sale. Seeing the VIP ticket's price, I cringed internally, feeling sorry for my bank account. I clicked on it, hoping the purchase would go through.

Amanda: "I GOT THE TICKETS."

Soojin: "TICKETS ARE SECURED! I GOT ONE EXTRA FOR YOU TOO, ATHENA, SO YOU HAVE TO COME!"

Athena: "Damn it. Fine. Thank you, Soojin."

Soojin: "You're welcome!"

Soojin: "Now you owe me."

Athena: "….fine."

Amanda: "Did you get yours, Y/n???"

Soojin: "????"

Athena: "Yeah, did you?"

I stared at the screen of my computer, unblinking as the words washed over me.

CONGRATS Y/N. YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY BOUGHT VIP TICKETS FOR ATEEZ. WE CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU THERE.

I glanced at my phone and tried to type in my answer with a few mistakes.

Y/n: "I got mine."

I turned off my phone and put it down, my whole body vibrating in excitement. "I'm seeing them.. I'm finally seeing them."

As the concert day drew closer, my heart raced with anticipation. I carefully selected my outfit, aiming for a perfect blend of style and allure. I wanted to exude confidence when I finally stood in front of the group that had captured my heart. My friends arrived, and we embarked on the journey to the concert, blasting Ateez's songs along the way, our excitement filling the car.

When we arrived at the venue, the sight of the long queue and the bustling crowd took my breath away. The realization that I was about to see Ateez up close made my heart flutter with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. Hours seemed to pass like minutes as we stood in line, chatting excitedly about what the night might hold.

Finally, the moment arrived. The doors opened, and the crowd surged inside. My friends and I found ourselves swept up in the sea of fans, our hearts pounding in unison with the music that echoed through the arena. The energy was electric, the anticipation palpable. "So many Atinys.. it's amazing," I thought as I was pulled along by Amanda towards the barricade, chatting with other Atiny's.

The minutes ticked by as the lights dimmed and the performance started, screams of girls and boys around resonating as screams were heard throughout the giant stage and halls. My heart skipped a beat. This was it. There they were, the idols I had admired from afar, now dancing and singing just a few feet away. My eyes darted from member to member, each one shining in their unique way. And then, my gaze locked onto him – Park Seonghwa, the one who had captured my heart from the very beginning.

I looked around and saw the immense energy resonating from the fans and started matching their energy, shaking my lightstick in rhythm to the music. My eyes closed for a minute, feeling the song. When I opened my eyes, I met the gaze of him.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, time seemed to stand still. It was as if the world faded away, leaving only Seonghwa and me in a shared moment of connection. I could feel his energy, his passion, radiating from the stage and intertwining with my own. For those fleeting seconds, it was as if we were the only two people in the universe.

But as quickly as it had begun, the gaze broke. Seonghwa had to continue his performance, his moves seamless and his voice captivating. I watched with a mix of awe and admiration, my heart still racing from our brief, intense connection. The music swelled, the lights danced, and the concert carried on, but for me, those few seconds of eye contact with Seonghwa remained etched in my memory.

The night soared by, a whirlwind of music and emotion. As the final notes of the last song echoed through the arena, I felt a bittersweet ache in my chest. The concert was over, and reality was settling in. But I knew that the night was still young.

As the lights came up and the crowd began to disperse, my friends and I exchanged excited whispers and shared smiles.

After the exhilarating concert had concluded, my friends and I found ourselves waiting anxiously in a designated area, eagerly anticipating our meeting with Ateez. The moments of anticipation seemed to stretch endlessly, but as the queue gradually lessened, my nerves started to lighten. I exchanged excited glances with my friends, our shared enthusiasm fueling our excitement.

Finally, my turn arrived to meet the members of Ateez. My heart raced as I stepped onto the podium, the space filled with the vibrant energy of my idols.

As I made my way down the line, I felt my pulse quicken when I came face to face with Kim Hongjoong. He exuded charisma and kindness, putting me at ease with his warm smile. Our conversation flowed effortlessly

, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for this opportunity.

Each member greeted me warmly, and I managed to have genuine conversations with all of them, laughing and sharing stories as if we were old friends. It was surreal – a dream come true that surpassed all my expectations.

But what truly caught me off guard was when I reached Seonghwa. The moment our eyes met, it was like time had folded, and we were back in that shared gaze from the concert. The connection between us was undeniable, a magnetic pull that transcended the chaos of the room around us. We spoke, our words weaving a tapestry of shared interests and laughter, as if we had known each other for years.

Throughout our conversation, I noticed that Seonghwa's eyes held an intensity that seemed to match my own feelings. It was as if he was as captivated by my presence as I was by his. Our hearts communicated through unspoken glances and shared smiles, creating a bubble of intimacy within the bustling room.

Just as I was about to leave, I felt a gentle touch on my hand. Looking down, I saw a piece of paper discreetly handed to me by Seonghwa. My heart skipped a beat as I took it, my fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. I discreetly pocketed the paper, the anticipation of what it held only adding to my excitement.

I waited for my friends to be done before excusing myself to the bathroom, ignoring their snickers.

I quickly located the bathroom and locked the door before pulling the paper from my pocket, carefully unfolding it, my heart racing as I read the message.

Seonghwa had written a simple yet powerful request – to meet him at the stage once everyone had left. My breath caught in my throat, and a mix of nerves and exhilaration surged through me. Without hesitation, I discreetly made my way to the stage, the shadows of the night concealing my movements.

As I reached the stage, I saw Seonghwa waiting for me, a soft smile on his lips. He gestured for me to follow, and we walked together in silence until we reached a small, secluded room. The air was charged with a mix of emotions – anticipation, nervousness, and an undeniable attraction.

Seonghwa motioned for me to sit, and as we settled into the quiet space, the world seemed to fall away. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, unburdened by the expectations of the outside world. We shared our dreams, our passions, our vulnerabilities, and with each passing moment, I felt myself falling deeper in love with the person I had admired from afar.

Our eyes locked once again, and with the heart eyes we exchanged, it spoke volumes. It was as if we were the only two people in existence, our connection forming an unbreakable bond. Seonghwa's hand brushed against mine, a simple touch that sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire of longing within me.

As the night grew darker, our conversation continued, traversing the realm of music, dreams, and personal experiences. Time seemed to lose its grip, and it was just Seonghwa and me, two destined souls intertwined in a space where nothing else mattered.

As the hours slipped away, my heart felt both heavy and light. I had shared something profoundly intimate with Seonghwa, a connection that transcended the boundaries of fandom and reality. And as we finally bid each other farewell, I knew that the love story that had begun with a shared gaze had evolved into something deeper – a story of two hearts finding solace, comfort, and love in the midst of a bustling world.

Weeks had passed since that serendipitous night when Seonghwa and I had shared our first intimate conversation. Our connection had deepened over late-night phone calls, bridging the gap between our physical separation as Seonghwa continued on his tour. The miles between us seemed insignificant as our voices carried our emotions across the line, turning ordinary conversations into moments of shared intimacy.

But as Seonghwa's tour took him back to South Korea, the physical distance began to weigh on both our hearts. I missed him with an ache that only grew stronger with each passing day. Determined to surprise him and bridge the gap, I made a bold decision.

I booked a flight to South Korea.

My arrival in South Korea was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. As I stepped off the plane and breathed in the unfamiliar air, a mixture of excitement and anticipation filled my every step. I made my way to the Ateez dorms, as I had gotten help from San to my surprise. A swirl of emotions churned within me. When I finally arrived, I was greeted with warmth and hugs from San and Yeosang, both of whom had become familiar voices through the phone.

"Welcome, Y/n! We've heard so much about you," San exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug that made me feel instantly at ease. Yeosang joined in, his smile as genuine as ever.

After the initial excitement settled, I couldn't help but ask the question that had been on my mind since I arrived, "Where's Seonghwa?"

"He's at the company right now, but he should be back shortly," San replied with a mischievous grin. "He's going to be over the moon when he sees you."

As I waited for Seonghwa's return, I spent time bonding with San and Yeosang, our laughter filling the room. We shared stories, inside jokes, and moments that I knew I would treasure forever.

Finally, the door burst open, and Seonghwa walked in. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he took in the sight of me standing there, a radiant smile on my face. Without a second thought, he crossed the room and enveloped me in a tight embrace, his happiness palpable.

"Is this real? Am I dreaming?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

I laughed, my heart swelling with affection. "I'm real, Seonghwa. I wanted to surprise you." Seonghwa could only hug me tighter, spinning me around the room, our giggles filling the air.

Over the next few days, Seonghwa and I embarked on a whirlwind adventure across Seoul. We explored the streets, visited popular spots, and shared moments of quiet intimacy. One sunny day, we found ourselves sitting on a park bench, enjoying ice cream and each other's company, the sundown casting a golden glow over the bustling town.

Our conversation flowed effortlessly until an elderly couple passing by stopped in front of us. With a twinkle in their eyes, the old woman smiled and said, "You two make such a cute couple."

Seonghwa's reaction was unexpected. He chuckled nervously and quickly denied the assumption, causing a pang of disappointment to flicker within me. I quickly masked my feelings and brushed it off, but inside, doubt began to creep in.

As the day turned into night, I found myself retreating into my thoughts. I withdrew from the members' offers to eat, choosing to wallow in self-pity instead. I felt like an outsider in a world where Seonghwa was a star and I was just an ordinary person.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Seonghwa finally pleaded for me to let him in. I hesitated before reluctantly allowing him into the spare room they had given me during my stay. As he saw my tear-stained face, his heart shattered, and he, too, was reduced to tears.

He cupped my face gently in his hands, his voice trembling as he asked, "Y/n, what's wrong?"

I looked up at him, my eyes brimming with vulnerability. "Do you… not like me? Is that why you denied us being a couple the other day?"

Seonghwa's heart ached as he realized the impact of his words. He wiped away my tears and took a deep breath, his voice steady yet laden with emotion. "No, Y/n. It's not that. It's just… I was afraid. Afraid that if I admitted my feelings, you might reject me. I never wanted to risk what we have for my feelings."

My heart swelled with a mix of relief and understanding. I reached up and gently silenced him with a kiss, shocking him. I pulled away to see his reaction, but I found that impossible as he pulled me into a deeper kiss, a soft yet profound message of requited feelings. We both laughed through our kiss, our emotions finally finding an outlet.

When we pulled away, I pulled and tackled Seonghwa onto the bed, both of us laughing.

As we cuddled on the bed, our laughter faded into hushed whispers. The air was charged with a newfound intimacy, our shared experiences deepening our connection. Seonghwa gazed into my eyes, his heart in his throat as he asked the question that had been on his mind for so long.

"Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?"

Tears welled up in my eyes once more, but this time they were tears of joy. With a radiant smile, I answered, "Yes, Seonghwa. Yes, I will."

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing our newfound commitment to each other. As we embraced, the weight of doubt and distance lifted, replaced by the certainty that our love story was just beginning – a love story that had transcended the boundaries of fame and ordinary life, bringing two souls together in a journey of shared moments, whispered confessions, and unbreakable love.

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