#i hope that when you die no one knows your memory

[amoromniaodium]

I have a terrible need to make these two characters the saddest people in existence. The quote that inspired this prompt on unrequited love:

The heart will break, but broken live on.

Lie to Me by Chris Isaak is so Bucky/Buck coded. Enjoy

—

Loving someone who doesn't love you back is terrorizing. There's something profoundly sad about seeing your beloved smile, unaware of how it tears your heart out. The saddest part is the lack of reciprocity—the love, the brotherhood, and the deep friendship, is all there. However, only one person loves more than the other and at the end of it all Buck can only hope for Bucky’s friendship.

The most terrible aspect that makes Buck want to cry out to a higher power—one he stopped believing in when his father's fist first hit his face—is how lovable Bucky is. Bucky loves openly, wearing his emotions on his sleeve, and everyone loves him for it. He hugs, laughs, drinks, and talks with everyone. Buck is the opposite he never would be that open, his openness was destroyed by memories of a father who never expected anything good from him. But he does late at night, lying in his bed, beg God to stop his pain, his hurt because sometimes he tells like his heart will never stop hurting.

Buck was baptized by a man made of sunshine, who gave him part of his name like a deity naming his favorite creature. He was named Buck by him, and he knew he should have resisted, kept his guard up, but that smile was so bright that it melted his cold walls completely. He hated how much he loved Bucky, the first real person to offer him a piece of himself. But Buck didn't realize until it was too late how dangerous and hurtful it would be to accept that name.

Bucky is loud, always speaking about himself, and enjoys singing, dancing, and going out with different women. He frequently turns back to search for Buck, winking to him as if it's a personal joke, unaware of how much it hurts Buck. Like a hopeless soul, Buck simply smiles and swallows the pain, but his heart grows colder with each passing day.

Nights like that he always walks back alone from the pub, the cold night deepening his melancholy. His chilled hands, runny nose, and tear-streaked face reveal the wall Buck has built inside himself grumbling into the ground. With every wink from Bucky, Buck becomes even colder. The only true way he has to defend himself.

Some people believe heartbreak can kill. Buck has read stories about people who die alone and cold, their love unrequited. He feels kinship with them, knowing one day this will be his fate. Each night, as he returns from the pub, he hopes not to wake up, wishing Bucky would find him and mourn the friendship lost, to understand the pain he caused, feels it so deeply into his soul that he looses the ability to breath, the ability to live and that he will have to grieve him for the rest of his life. Because Buck knows that Bucky will grieve for him like he does all the men they had lost to this war. But Buck would never intentionally hurt his love.

What Buck doesn't realize is that every time Bucky makes someone laugh or kisses another blonde, he's thinking of Buck—his beautiful angelic Buck. Whenever he returns to the table and Buck isn't there, his heart and lungs ache. And he drinks more and hates himself and the routine continues day after day after day.

If only they both knew how much they loved each other, and how much they unknowingly hurt each other. If only.

—

And they communicated and loved each other. The End.

#buck x bucky #bucky x buck #clegan #mota #mota fanfic #gale cleven #john egan #heartbreak #unrequited love #sadnees #bucky egan

[pupharrington]

Jercy au where after Jason dies, Percy literally marches down to the underworld to retrieve him. Like, Percy, who is so mentally drained from everything and kinda has a death wish, who has seen so many people he cares about die, who has ALREADY ventured to the underworld for a loved one before (Sally) just. goes down to the underworld. The whole way down Percy's is absolutely seething, but by the time he actually get's to Hades' palace or whatever, he's just done. Like, "Hey, it'd be great if I could have this one back. thanks." while he draws his sword and hopes he doesn't actually have to fight. Whether underworld fam takes pity on him or not is up to you lol

this is both so cute and so devastating at the same time 😭

im inclined to believe hades would take pity on him but pulls the classic “for a price” and percy’s just like “i dont fucking know dude. just take me or something who even cares anymore”

ooo but just to make everything awful, what if the price was that he takes jason’s memories again? like you can have him percy, but he wont know who the fuck you are or whats going on, but sure

obviously percy agrees because its better than nothing, but when he gets jason back he realizes how upsetting it is that he doesn’t know who he is, and percy gets to feel what annabeth felt for him in that moment.

on a lighter note, imagine him saying “jason its me. percy. i’m your boyfriend.” and jason being flabbergasted because:

1. he thinks percy is way too attractive to be dating him and

2. waking up and immediately finding out youre gay may be a bit of a shock

#jercy #jason grace #percy jackson #pjo #hoo #ask #headcanon

[alicedash2]

Hey! I hope you are doing alright. I’m here with another ask as always takes your time! This time I’m in the mood for a Luffy x reader fic super fluffy as always because I’m not into really sad stuff so I was thinking that it could be based around Luffy and her just sitting together having a conversation about past adventures together.

Hey sweetie, here's your order, sorry for take a very long time and be too short :( (again) not reviewed

Moments. Luffy x Reader

Just a fluffy thing, a short one

----°°°°°°•°•°•°•°•°••°••°•°•°••^°^

It was another day on the ship, as always, Y/N had the habit of sitting on the deck in the morning, enjoying the sun and seeing the sun shining on the water from time to time, using it, leaning on the edges of the ship, it was cold but the sun was comfortable.

Luffy arrives, he wasn't used to waking up early, he sees YN sitting and decides to go to bed

-yo! What is she doing alone?

-just enjoying...you woke up early, Luffy, normally you wake up later-

- I don't know either, I think it was the smell of Sanji's cooking-

-so you would eat in your sleep...-

-aah! It doesn't matter, so, are you alone here? Why don't you go with Nami or Robin?

- ... I like to be alone for a while-

YN rested her chin in her hands, sighing a little.

-I...I remembered something...very funny

-hm?-

-Remember...when we were hidden in a barrel...and we ended up arriving on that ship...we were still new, I didn't know what to do, because you called me to be part of your gang, even though I was just a civilian... incredible how I didn't die-

Luffy laughed, happy to remember his first memories as pirates, unprepared, without a ship, without a band, without anything.

-remember when we arrived in Skypea?-

-aah, I remember!-

-you tried to eat that fruit on top of that tree, and even threw it at Ussop's head! I've never laughed as much as I did that day-

YN laughed a little, it was something so simple that she managed to get a good laugh

A few minutes passed, the happy memories turned sad when the two started talking about when Luffy had to fight Ussop to get possession of the ship.

When Robin surrendered to CP9 so he could save the gang

When they had to say goodbye to the Going Merry

When Sanji "abandoned" the gang and still fought against Luffy and others

-we had some difficult times...it hurts to remember, but I feel good, knowing that everything is ok-

YN said, looking at the captain, who was lying on the floor with his hands behind his head

-Yes...-

- but... I feel nostalgic remembering, we made the most of every moment...-

-...me too...a little-

They were silent for a moment, until they both heard Sanji calling to eat, they got up and walked to the kitchen, to continue the conversation and remember more moments from the past.

#one piece #one piece x reader #mugiwara no luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #luffy fluff #fluff

[a-spes]

| UNTIL ONE OF US DIE — Drabble (958 words).

| Summary — you promised to marry her but you didn't.

| Tags & warnings — Part of my "A drabble a day in june" challenge. — Yelena Belova x Reader, childhood friends (lovers?), death (R), angst without comfort, bittersweet, mentions of the redroom.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

Everyone has always lied to her but it was fine, she got used to it. She smiles, pretending she doesn't see right through their games, doing whatever they are expecting her to, even if she knows that the only reward she'll get for it is a bitter disappointment. She is born to serve, and that's what she does the best. They give her a mission, she completes it, and then they are happy enough to leave her alone for a few days — Weeks, when she is lucky.

That's how the world works for her, it always did, but some truth are more difficult to accept. That her family never existed, that she has been ripped of a few years of her life, that her sister died, but also that you didn't keep your promise.

You were just kids but it still counted, didn't it?

It was only a few words that you whispered to each other when you were no older than ten years, something that happened in the secrecy of the dormitory. You both knew it was a dangerous game because no one was allowed to dream but you didn't care. As far as she can remember, you've never cared about anything.

"We can do it," you said, trying the blonde to break the rules with you, but she was too stubborn for that. She admired your recklessness as much as she hated it, knowning you could get in trouble for that. "We just have to make sure that they don't catch us. What they don't know can't hurt, right?"

Except it does, because they always knew. Until recently, she hadn't be able to understand why they kept you around all these years. You were an average widow wrapped in a sick layer of trouble, closer to the girls who received a bullet in their head than to those who held the gun.

You were borned in a place where light doesn't exist, and yet you had the brightest smile. You had no memories of your family. They ripped you from them before you could learn the sound of their voices but that never stopped you from dreaming. You spent your time imagining a life you've never — and will never — know, and it contaminated the others. Even she has sometimes surprised herself dreaming about what her life would be outside these walls.

"One day, I will marry you," you've told her back then, and she didn't believe you until you swore on every you had. Even if it wasn't a lot, it meant everything for the blonde.

It was more than a childish promise, it was the hope of a brighter future, and she held on it. Every time, even now, she sooth herself asleep by thinking about what your life together could be like. You would've the biggest house that can exist, and it would be far from everything, just the two of you, and maybe a dog or a cat. You would both love that peaceful and quiet place. It would be your little secret, a space just for the two of you that no one would know about.

"I'll find you. They can't separate us forever," she told you the day you were moved to a different unit with a few other girls. It was a week before the graduation, and she was scared that you didn't passed. That day, they took away the light of the group, and things has never been the same anymore. Maybe that's why they kept you for so long, to instil hope in the hearts of the other girls, only to rip it from them later. To break them into obedience.

The blonde kept her promise. She's been looking for you since she left that place. You were the last piece needed for the new life she wanted to start, and the most important one. It's been years she hasn't see you, what if she can't reconignise your face? What if you don't even remember her? All these questions were swirling in her head as she was waiting in her car, parked in the other side of the street. It was never easy to track a widow, especially when they seem to have done everything to make you disappear form the files.

After a few months, she eventually got a lead. She found a file about a mission you've been working on a few years ago but, most importantly, she found the widow that was sent in with you, the one she was waiting for in front of her building.

"Where is she?" she asked, showing a picture of you to the woman. The latter frown but when she eventually recognize the young face she was being shown as yours. However, all she gives to the blonde is a sad smile. She didn't need more to understand what those desolate eyes meant.

Yet, she didn't believed until she was shown the place of your grave. She wasn't even sure if you were there, they probably left your body were it died or maybe they burned it. She doesn't know, and she is not sure she wants to. That day, she left the cimetery without the ring she has bought for you when she got out, tossing it in the bushes.

As she walked away, she could still hear your voice and the promise you made that day. The one you've never — and will never — kept. You lied, and you breaking her trust was the hardest thing she's ever had to accept in her life.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz

#a spes writing #drabble challenge #a spes writing challenge #reader insert #mcu fanfiction #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova #yelena belova imagine #angst without a happy ending #angst no comfort #a drabble a day in june

[animeyanderelover]

Can I please request porco galliard yandere alphabet

I only allow people to request 4 letters so i hope you don't mind that I chose some random ones.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, forced marriage

Tags: @shumidehiro

Yandere Alphabet

Earnest-How intense and dangerous are they really?

🌫️​If we consider what some other people would bring to the game in the Aot verse, Porco is actually still in a good spot. Whilst he can and will be very overbearing and certainly harsh in his language at times, ultimately it all comes from a place of good, albeit overprotective, intentions. He wants to enable his darling a good life, especially if they are an Eldian just like he is. As a Titan shifter he is granted more privileges than others of his blood and wants to give you access to those advantages as well. For that you have to be involved with him though and if you are not a direct blood relative of his, you will only experience those privileges if the two of you are married. Sure, he also wants you as his spouse to see it through that no one else will dare to claim you but Porco also has to already plan for the future when he will be eaten by his successor as he still wants you to have all those advantages after his death. Marrying him against your own will sucks and he knows that but it must be done so he can still ensure your well-being after his death. Instead of being such a brat, you should be more grateful.

Game-Do they see this all as a game?

🌫️​No. In the world he has been born into, there is no time to fool around as it has always been about life or death. His youth was spent training to inherit the next Titan only to fail and stay in Marley whilst his brother died on Paradise Island. Now, years later after having devoured Ymir and at last inheriting the Jaw titan, his time has been limited. Every year is sacred as the time is ticking away so every day he spends with you is by extension something special. Porco values the domestic life he has with you a lot more than you might think as he commits everything about you to memory, the passage of time something he is painfully aware of in the back of his mind. Precisely because he doesn't have all the time in the world would he be at one point rather desperate to have you love him as well so that he can at least die in peace when his time comes. With every year that falls away, his desperation grows if you should still show him the cold shoulder. After all he has done to give you a better life, you should give him at least a bit more gratitude.

Oppression-How many rights would they take away from their darling? Do they go against their s/o’s will a lot?

🌫️​Ironically enough Porco is the one in here who is trying to give you more rights with his actions. Of course there is room for a debate since in order to give you more rights as a despised Eldian, he has to take away some of your other rights. Once again we would find ourselves stuck again in the topic of a marriage that he arranged with your parents without your consent, though only if you were to reject his proposal beforehand. Ultimately it is choosing the smaller evil over the bigger one in his mind as he may have taken away your right to reject him but in return you will be given a much better life overall and can even help your own family by being married to him. After the marriage there is no way nor is it in his intentions to take those rights that he has gifted you away from him again, even if you were to act like a petty and bitter brat after a marriage you did not desire. He wants you to have those advantages even after his death after all so that he can care for you long after he is gone.

🌫️​As previously mentioned, the biggest glaring point in a relationship with Porco is going to be the arranged marriage in which case he will choose to go against your own will if you should not desire the same thing as he does despite all of the advantages it would give you and your own family. Other than that there are surprisingly little times where Porco has ever gone against your will, though that is mainly because a marriage is binding and everyone in the district where you two lives knows and respects him and by extension knows about the fact that you are his spouse. As both of you were born as Eldians, he knows best just how oppressing everyone else will be and for that he would go surprisingly few times against your own will, mainly if you try to bail out of the relationship. After all Porco wants you to enjoy the new rights and little bits more freedom that you are given as a spouse to a Titan Shifter. Perhaps if you indulge into those newly attained privileges, you will come around to accept him.

Yell-How do they react to their darling breaking down in front of them?

🌫️​As much credit as I have given him, Porco is obviously still someone with a handful of flaws. Whilst he is partially lucid enough to realise that forcing you to marry him is a terrible decision, he has seen worse things as a warrior used by the military. In his mind he deserves at least som respect for everything he is doing for the community and especially for you and the longer you deprive him of what he deserves, the more likely it is for the both of you to get into arguments. He isn't as heartless as to dismiss your breakdown when an argument pushes you over the edge but the bitterness that has been festering inside of him is just as strong, resulting in this awkward and stiff atmosphere as he watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you emotionally crumble down. He'd like to say something spiteful to you as you have hurt him too with your dismissive attitude but his words only come out as an inaudible grumble before he leaves the room, unable to bear with the sight of you and with the uncomfortable atmosphere created. Hopefully things will be better after you've calmed down.

#yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere shingeki no kyojin #yandere snk #yandere porco #yandere porco galliard #yandere x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader

[gorillawithautism]

We will all carry the weight of all Palestinian martyrs, but they should not be used an excuse" what an awful thing to say to a palestinian mourning her family

#swingset #'we will all carry the weight' no the fuck we wont?? #as much as i'd like to support palestinians in their grief it's simply not possible for me to carry the weight that every single palestinian #is carrying right now #how can you say that to someone who has lost multiple members of her own family #how can you possibly proclaim yourself an equal here #how can you possibly say you carry the same weight as she does #you evil evil people #i hope that when you die no one knows your memory #i hope that when you die no one grieves for you #i hope that when you die not a single person wastes their grief on a soul that could not for one second understand grief nor kindness #i hope ibtisams familys memories are a blessing #and i hope when you die that yours is forgotten

[blueberryblogger]

can't wait to see what characters brennan brings in last minute to save the bad kids

#sorry guys that fight looked brutal & i have no hope #especially not regarding battles where they are coming in from another battle #it honestly feels frustrating to watch imho because i know there aren't real stakes #the bad kids will win because their immensely powerful allies will swoop in when the chips are down & revive & recoup #like i love d20 but the fantasy high finales feel especially low stakes when i know brennan wants to give his friends a good dnding #maybe thats why i liked a crown of candy & neverafter so much #the stakes felt real #acoc if you died you were dead #neverafter if you died your memories got more & more fucked up & your lives were harder to keep track of #but with fantasy high it feels really called in #especially when brennan throws his players from one battle right into the final battle #like of COURSE theyre going to die & their allies will swoop in and save them #what else would you expect from throwing players at half health & half spell slots into a battle with a legion of fully healthy enemies #sorry i didnt mean for this to get so critical im just bery tired so im entering the hater zone #fantasy high i love you but the ending of your story is predictable and i dont really feel excited to watch it like i have b4 #again possibly bc im tired #whose to say #fhjy spoilers

[dazais-guardian-angel]

went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠

#like. to be clear this was the first time i've been literally anywhere but doctor's appointments in 4 years #not just because of the pandemic but because of mental and physical exhaustion #so it was a Big Mistake to go from 0 to 100 and not ease myself into it at all #but at the same time........ it was a fucking hellscape of people. i don't think any kind of buildup could have prepared me for it at all. #it was so much less crowded in 2020 (ironically the very last place i ever went; literally on the BRINK of covid) #and now idk what it's become. a monster con. it was unbelievable. #but i was only there for less than an hour but i was so so so terrified that i very nearly left before even seeing him #i couldn't even fully enjoy meeting him as kind as he was because i was so anxious and distracted #and when i got back to the car i just fucking cried......... #the last five days i've just been sitting in fear waiting to feel Any sort of symptoms #i wore two masks and again was barely there for long but Still #and everyone around me was so chill as if everything was normal and No One was wearing a mask :))))) it's not fucking fair man :))))) #insert the 'they don't know' meme; they don't know how much covid can destroy your body even if you get a 'mild' case #i would never want to be that ignorant even if i wasn't disabled and didn't have reason to worry (but everyone has reason to worry!!!) #but also. ignorance is bliss and it just really fucking sucks man. #it really fucking sucks. why do they get to be happy and enjoying life and not /me?/ #why can't i do just ONE thing for myself without having it tainted by anxiety and fear that i'm going to die horribly??? #while they get to do fucking EVERYTHING??? #if they all just wore masks we could all enjoy ourselves much more comfortably than some of us are now #but no that's too much to ask from people 🙃🙃🙃 #shit sucks man. the world sucks. something that should be a happy memory for me was simultaneously the most awful experience #and i don't know how to feel about it now that it's over #he knew that i was afraid and at the end he told me that he hoped to see me again at another event someday #and that made me cry because it felt like dazai telling me to live. and i want to. but i don't know how to when the world is like this now. #i desperately want to be able to see him again someday but right now after how terrifying that was i never want to go to a con ever again.. #i wanted to ask him things about the manga and about dazai but i was being rushed and stressed so i couldn't ugh #(and doing that is hard enough anyway cause disability and i have to talk with my phone bahhhh) #at least i was able to give him my note *sigh*

[surskip]

my favourite kingdom hearts characters are the ones who appear in like. one unknown side game and have the most tragic stories. im talking about like.. replica riku (had his own memories replaced against his will and died fighting his 'true' self after learning that he was just a copy meant to carry out a plan. died with his last few few sentences being about how he's scared to die because he doesn't know what awaits replicas after death) and data sora and riku (also created solely to carry out a plan with little thought to the fact they are also sentient people, who essentially die at the end of the game). can i count xion and namine in this? well, i'm going to

#mine #kh #long post #genuinely. genuinely. i know shes popular but namine is sooooo underrated #theres this one exchange thats stayed with me since i played chain of memorires and its like #you can very clearly see juts how little namine values herself. like she was created and used for her abilities #like yeah she messed with sora's memories and stuff but also She was held hostage and never had a choice in the matter whatsoever #even after org 13 left her alone she then had to deal with diz (im oging to explode ansem the wise) who basically told her #'you dont have emotions and youre just a tool for me btw to revive sora so i can take my revenge' #like.. when she's talking to sora about kairi and making him remember you can clearly see that's she is SO lonely #like. i dunno if it's just me but it reads so much to me like heavy guilt and a tiny hope of #'what if he really does choose me instead. he shouldnt but i am so so so lonely' #she was forced to essentially kill repliku her only friend. she brought him back only to die a second time #(kh3 spoilers from here on out) #when she is in the afterlife you can tell she doesn't think she deserves to come back. that people would be better off without her #it makes me go bonkers i really hope they acknowledge her and her complete lack of support throughout her entire life in the next game #the animation with her and riku going in the gummi ship makes me think so butim just.. maaan. shes such a tragic character #Scroll Scroll. Sorry this is really really really long huh............. OTL sorry....

[echo-s-land]

Me: hey I improved ! I don’t have such a black-and-white thinking anymore !

Someone: *has a moral which is the direct opposite of mine*

Me: THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY.

#have you considered you are wrong ? #listen. listen. if you give more importance to objects and memories (loosing them does hurt but listen) than to human life(s) #or animals. I said human life(s) but it's really just lifes in general #i don't like you #'oh but we don't know them. they could be bad people !' so youre gonna let them die. because of a 'what if' #if the situation ever happens to you (and i hope it doesnt) i wonder how you will react when people ignore you asking for help bc #'what if theyre bad ?!' #asd #? #asd problems #autism problems #Autism Stuff #try as long as you want to change my mind im autistic that arent gonna work #not about this at least. sometimes it happens but i need facts #black and white thinking #'youd leave your house to strangers ?' if they need it ? anytime a day. especially since when it is said its not even a house i live in #who needs more than one house anyway. i get it for people going on vacation but if you live in it for a handful of weeks or months a year #why not accept for other people to live in it the rest of the year ? 'but youd have to pay! they wont !' ok. youre really debating with the #wrong person here. idc. if i really cant give them a shelter id be straightforward and they wont push further #if i can then ill ask them to gain a bit of money on their side but ill help sure #ofc itd be better if i learn to know the person/people beforehand #if i can im not letting people die in the street tho #i dont get people prioritizing objects over lifes. i just dont #i was literally raised by a very much nd father telling me 'if someone comes and asks for a shelter - you give it to them' #I- *muffled screams* 'what if theyre bad?' what if i punch you in the face #yeah they might be. they also might not. youre gonna let them die either way ?

[tonycries]

Brooklyn Baby - G.S.

Synopsis. Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rock star! AU, fwb-to-lovers, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), Suguru is sinfully sexy and in l*ve with you, Satoru is a menace, pet names (darling, my girl), Suguru has tattoos and piercings, swearing.

Word count. 3.2k (DAMN I got carried away)

A/N. Happy Valentine’s day! *throws somewhat-fluffy smut at you and leaves* 

Art by @_3aem on X.

Also, wild west! AU longfic with someone dropping on Sunday night (EST), keep your eyes peeled yeehaw.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

You did. Your fans did. Hell, you’ve even caught your overworked band manager sneaking a few too many glances. 

And, you conclude, the groupies currently batting their lashes at him definitely did. 

You watch as they swarm to him during open rehearsal, giggling at his pretty smiles. 

Whatever, part of the job anyway.

It’s not like you two were dating. Yeah, a few fucks here and there throughout the years - but what’s one to do when on the road and in such close proximity with a guy that’s practically walking sex? 

Trying not to scowl, you turn away from the commotion, continuing to tune the strings of your trusty Fender. You’ve had your fair share of die-hard fans, so lately why did it bother you so much when Suguru entertained their thinly-veiled advances? 

“Ohoho~ Quite a look on your face there, why don’t you go and caress his biceps too?~” you hear idiot brigade member #1, Gojo Satoru, cackle from beside you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru would’ve been 6 feet under and rotting already. “I thought you stopped writing band fanfiction, Satoru.” you raise a brow. 

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.” he whines dramatically, clinging onto you and shaking you back and forth as if to knock the memory of his Wattpad tendencies out of you. “WHY ATTACK ME JUST CUZ YOU’RE JEALOUS? C’MOOON ADMIT IT.”

You were not jealous. 

Suguru knew you were jealous.

Sneaking a glance, he had to fight the urge to coo at the adorable little furrow of your brows. How unprofessional would it be if he walked off mid-conversation to kiss that pout off your lips?

He knows it’s just sex for you. But - foolishly - every time he held you he could only hope that he ran through your mind as often as you did through his. It elated Suguru to know you were getting that worked up over him. 

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Satoru draping himself all over you, whispering god-knows-what into your ears. 

The rational part of Suguru knows Satoru is a very touchy person, but why was he so…close? And why weren’t you pushing him off?

Smile tightening into something a little more artificial, he turns to the girls fawning over him. “Well, ladies, I’m sorry to say I’ve gotta go practice before Shoko yells at me again. I’ll see you all in the front row, yeah?” he lies smoothly, disappointed whines following him as he makes a beeline for your figure.

“Well! What have we here, Satoru, are you done tuning?” Suguru pops a head between yours and Satoru’s overly close ones, interrupting whatever conversation you were heatedly whispering. What was so important that you two needed to be that close to talk anyway?

He narrows his eyes at Satoru’s surprised ones, an invisible conversation taking place between them before Satoru cracks a smug grin. “Alright alright. I’ll go tune my guitar.” he rolls his eyes, heading for his electric blue Gibson. 

Your confused gaze meets the twinkling eyes now boring down at you. “Done with the meet-n-greet already?” you question, eyes darting to the group now watching you two like hawks.

The smile on Suguru’s face grows, “Yeah, remembered I didn’t do my pre-concert rituals right.”

“Oh?”

“Wanna help me with it?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Quickly setting down your guitar, he drags you out into the corridor - hand tightly in yours and pointedly ignoring Satoru’s wolf-whistles. 

Hallway sex is overrated, Suguru believes - which is why he heads for the dressing room. 

“Pre-concert rituals” his ass, Suguru just thinks he might pass away if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now. Make you feel like his.

It’s not long before the door is locked and he has you bent over the vanity, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. 

“S-Sugu! Why now? The concert- Hah-” You gasp in pleasure as two long fingers probe inside of you, ruthlessly searching for the spot that Suguru knows would have your toes curling and eyes watering deliciously. 

“Fuck the concert, darling. Barely even started and already so wet f’me.” he drawls out over your whimpers. “Wanted you to come over y’know? And save me from those groupies trying to get in my pants.” 

In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seemed to - hah - be enjoying that.”

“Of course not.” he leaves a trail of kisses down your back, “Wasn’t my favorite girl.” he whispers into your heated skin.

He’s being rougher than usual, he knows. In the back of his mind he wonders what it was that he was so pissed at. But all thoughts of that are thrown out the window once he presses into that plushy spot inside your wet core, drawing a sinful whine from your mouth. There.

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over. 

“Hngh- Suguru, more!” you grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers. 

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick rings. 

Suguru was definitely losing his sanity. 

Anyone could walk by. The concert was about to start any second now. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, too focused on how his fingers were being sucked back in every time he pulls out, your pretty pussy dripping all over his numerous bracelets.

He has to hold back a moan at the way your ass jiggled every time your hips buck to meet his fingers. 

Leaning down over you, he hums lowly into your ear “So desperate for me, hm?”. Pressing the erection straining against his trousers against you, he huffs out “I’m the same, darling. You drive me absolutely mad.”

He feels the way you squirm in impatience at the large outline of his dick, raising your ass in an attempt to get more friction. Eyes crinkling in satisfaction, he pushes down on his girl’s slutty hips, cold rings digging into the small of your waist. 

“Now now…not yet.” he tuts mockingly. 

“Please, Suguru. Please let me cum.”

Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Suguru knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close. 

His hand moves from your waist, leaving behind purple marks to remember him by. They wander the expanse of your body - groping your curves, and pinching your nipples through your thin top - delighting in your mewls.

God, you were perfect. He really needed to take his time with you later.

Suguru’s hands, nail polish chipped and fingers calloused from years of playing, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him through the vanity mirror in front of you. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones. 

Suguru was so feral. The man that was usually the personification of grace and poise was falling apart at the seams. His eyes wild and grin spread devilishly as his fingers abuse your cunt never-endingly.

“Look at me when you cum.” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse.

You don’t know what it is that sends you over the edge - maybe it was his lustful words, or the way his fingers quirked just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Suguru’s fingers, hands clutching the vanity table and eyes locked with Suguru’s in the mirror, mouth dropping into a gasp.

“Fuck! Suguru- Suguru!” you whimper.

Suguru watches in wonder as you ride out your orgasm, using him. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Let them see how beautifully you fall apart because of him.

Finally pulling out, Suguru inspects his fingers. “Now now. That won’t do.” he purrs. 

His tongue erotically licks up your juices covering his rings, still holding eye contact with you through the mirror. He catches the way your thighs press together at his lewd act. ‘Oh? Want some?“ he teases. 

Before you can retort, he’s bullying his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself. 

The way you moan around him sends blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, he has to steel himself from cumming in his pants right then and there - that wouldn’t be very “sex icon” of him. 

You have no idea what you do to him.

Not willing to wait any longer, he leisurely takes a seat on the spacious vanity sofa. You whine at the loss of contact before catching the predatory look in his eyes. Suguru was going to eat you alive. 

“Come on, darling. Show me how badly you want me.” he grins, legs spreading and prominent bulge on display. 

You take a second to admire the view. Tousled black hair falling enticingly along Suguru’s muscled shoulders, tattooed dragon peeking through where his shirt was messed up. His eyes lustful, and locked on you. 

He was devastatingly handsome. Your mouth waters at the chance to get what so many people would kill for.

Suguru chuckles as you struggle to unbuckle his belt - did rock stars have to always wear such complicated trousers? 

Finally, you pull them down along with his boxers to expose his creamy thighs. Suguru’s throbbing erection lays on his abs, flushed a delicate pale pink.

Your pussy quivers with excitement as you press wet kisses to Suguru’s leaking head, precum dripping down his length to where you’d gently grasped him. A strangled hiss leaves his mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. You find yourself lost in his heady taste - he tastes so good.

“Having fun, darling? C’mon now, use me the way you want.” he murmurs, need laced into his voice.

You’ve never gotten used to how big Suguru is. Soft groans leave his mouth as you flatten your tongue and take him in inch by inch, eyes locked with his blown-out ones.

Suguru’s back arches as the heat of your mouth envelops him, hands bunching your hair into a messy ponytail. His pornographic groans echo across the dressing room as you suck on his cock, tongue swirling in just the way you knew he liked.

He can’t even catch his breath with the way you bob your head so heavenly, sucking the soul out of him. It drives him wild to think about how he’s got his lead guitarist on her knees, choking on his cock as your fans wait outside. 

Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you pop off his cock to take his heavy balls into your mouth, moaning around them as you suck on both erotically.

Shit, he was really feeling it today. 

Through the bangs now sticking to his forehead, he makes out the way your thighs grind against each other for relief. 

You were, too.

If this keeps up he really will lose his sanity.

“As much as I’d love to paint your pretty face with my cum, I think we both prefer it inside, no?” he grits out, cock twitching at the strings of spit and precum connecting you to him as he pulls you off. 

“Need you inside me so badly.” you nod, brain foggy and filled with only Suguru.

He’s quick to lift you into his lap, resting your ass against his pulsing cock, sly grin spreading at the way you’re already so fucked out. 

Suguru feels like he could cum just from the sensation of your juices smearing all over his length, pussy dripping and aching for his throbbing cock. 

“Oh yeah? How bad?” he purrs, eyes half-lidded and already knowing the answer.

“Please. I want you to fuck me so badly, Suguru.” 

“Badly enough that you’d fuck me out there - where everyone is? Show ‘em who I belong to?”

“Yes.” 

At your whimper, Suguru thrusts fully inside you, a moan of relief leaving you both as you finally get what you’ve been craving for. 

“Shit, so tight. Always so good for me, darling.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop, Suguru finds. 

It happened when he first fucked you in high school - in his car after your first show, running on adrenaline and teenage hormones. And, years later, it’s happening now as he sheathes himself in your wet cunt. 

He just can’t get enough.

He fucks you animalistically, cock ramming in and out of your hole in a way that makes it feel like you’re missing something without him. Nothing in the world other than your two connected bodies. He feels you clamping down on him deliciously, ego growing at you struggling to accommodate his size. 

“F-fuck, darling. Hah- It’s s’tight. Take it like my good girl.”

“Hngh- Suguru, faster!” you groan, fingers delicately playing with the nipple piercings peeking out of his barely-buttoned shirt, euphoric at his drawn-out moans. 

Unlike Satoru - who takes off his shirt every chance he gets onstage - Suguru was one to shy away from showing skin, slutty piercings and tattoos hidden to the world. It just makes it all the more satisfying as you lick a long stripe along the dragon on his shoulder. 

Feels like your little secret. You wanted to be the only one to see this ethereal sight.

“Ah- So good, darling.” Suguru leans back, allowing you more room to play with him as you please. Cock twitching - so close - as you bore into his eyes, sucking his flashy piercings. 

He ramps up his pace, bouncing you on his cock in a way that was carnal. It was so feral, the way his balls sting as they smack your ass, a ring of spit and precum forming around his base. 

His cock aches for release, but he wants to see you cum first. His pretty girl, cumming all over his throbbing cock.

You pull yourself off his swollen nipples and attach your mouth with his, tongues swirling sensually as he kisses you like he needed you to breathe. 

He’s almost as unforgiving with his mouth as he is with his cock. Almost.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“YOOO I don’t know if ‘pre-concert rituals’ was a code-word for something else but we’re on in twenty minutes.” the unmistakable voice of Suguru’s best friend - and occasional bane-of-his-existence - made you two jump apart. 

“The ultimate cockblock.” Suguru sighs out - his pace, however, does not slow down. Each harsh thrust makes it difficult to muffle your yelps of pleasure from Satoru, who was still calling for you two from outside.

Noticing your predicament, Suguru grins dangerously. “Oh? My poor girl finds it hard to stop her moans? Aww, better try harder unless you want dear Satoru finding out.” he mocks in your ear. 

Both humiliated and turned on by his words, your dripping pussy clenches around his cock. He lets out a choked-up groan, biting hard into the crook of your neck to stop it.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face, “Who should try harder now, Suguru?”

Ah, perfect. You were perfect, perfect for him.

As Satoru’s yells about “cutting a chunk out of Suguru’s pay” disappear across the hallway, both of you let out exhales of relief.

“Dangerous game you played there, mister.” you raise a brow, teasingly.

He chuckles out, before pulling you to him closer by the waist. Lips ghosting over your own, he whispers “Only with you, my darling.” 

Slightly more clear-headed but still dripping with lust, you meet the bounce of Suguru’s hips with your own. Eyes still locked with yours, he stuffs you with every inch - tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

The steady slapping of skin and synchronized moans fill the room, blocking out the cheering of the audience awaiting your band. 

Yet, the air crackled with something different this time. For the first time, it didn’t just feel like just mindless fucking.

Bite mark on your neck stinging, you could feel Sugurus heartbeat thundering under your touch - synchronized with your own.

In this moment it felt like just you two in this world. 

You wanted to be the only one in his world. Not his fangirls, not some manager, not anyone else. 

Maybe that was the reason for your courage, feeling like everything has finally come to a boiling point. 

“S-Suguru.” you breathe out as you feel yourself getting closer. 

“Mhm?” brows furrowed, he looks up at you with a tenderness in his eyes that does not translate to the merciless cadence of his hips. 

“Be mine.”

And that’s all Suguru ever wanted. 

With a final hard thrust of his cock, he pulls you into a searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. He cums in hot spurts, thick ropes of seed filling your quivering cunt. It was feral - and it made you feel like his. 

Suguru’s seed drips down the side of his length, forming a white ring at his base as he fucks it deeper into you, letting you ride out your highs together.

As your climaxes bate, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over the mark from before. “To be yours is everything I could ever want, darling.” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin.

Embracing him, you gather his beautiful black locks in your hand, fingers deftly taking the hair tie around your wrist to tie his long hair into a messy ponytail. 

Pulling back, you admire Suguru’s angelic features. Face flushed, lips swollen, and dark eyes half-lidded as he stares up at you in surprise.

“Wanted to see your pretty face.” you huff out a low laugh.

The expression on Suguru’s face is indescribable, such pure adoration in his eyes. 

Voice low, he murmurs words meant only for you, “I…I’m in lov-” 

“HEYYY I’m serious, stop doing the devil’s tango and GET THE FUCK OUT.” Satoru’s voice bellows once again through the door, shattering the little bubble you and Suguru had found refuge in.

“Ah- um-”

“You-”

Both of you stammer out at once, chuckling at how shy you were acting with one another even after all that had transpired in this room.

“We should probably go, before Satoru and Shoko pop a blood vessel.” Suguru jokes. You laugh out in agreement as he carries you tenderly to the washroom, his interrupted words weighing heavily on both your minds. It’s okay, you have time. 

Rapidly cleaned up and dressed, Suguru stops, a hand on the dressing room doorknob. “”Hey..” he starts almost-hesitantly, “After the concert, would you maybe want to-”

“Yes.” you interrupt, excitement lacing your voice. 

Chuckling in pure euphoria as you both exit, your smiles turn more sheepish as you’re faced with a bored-looking Shoko and an impatient Satoru tapping his foot. “You horny lil’ fuckers almost missed the show, think of my poor fans~” he exclaims, though the glee in his eyes at your intertwined hands was very evident.

“Hope the sex was good at least.” Shoko drones out, eyes flitting over your guilty flushed faces. 

‘Oh yeah, and Suguru - next time you dump your fangirls on me, I chop your balls off.“ she chirps out, pointing her drumsticks threateningly at his neck as you all head back.

Blinding lights. 

Deafening screams.

Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, he was fatally beautiful onstage.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. 

But he only wanted to fuck you.

A/N. MMMMM long-haired men.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk #geto suguru #tonywrites

[steampoweredstrawberry]

I finished Another last night, and after sitting with it, I have some thoughts regarding it. This is going to be spoiler-y, so heads up if you want to watch a 10-year-old anime or read the book.

My initial impression was the art is nice. The characters have this doll-like quality with large eyes and bodies reminiscent of ball jointed dolls. It's also great at setting up atmosphere in the early episodes. The first few episodes are great at making the town and school feel eerie and spooky without outright introducing the horror of everything. This kind of wanes for me personally in later episodes, but the first 3 or so are great at establishing mystery.

Okay, so onto plot:

In the most basic sense, Another is very Final Destination-core. The premise is there is this middle school where class 3 of grade 9 (correct me if I'm wrong) has this curse called "the calamity" where there is another person on the roster who is not supposed to be part of the class (hence the name). This person is dead, and I'm pretty sure they don't know they had died. This person being there results in a domino effect of deaths in this class, which are both senseless and gruesome. The curse also extends to their loved ones.

The main characters are Koichi, a boy who transferred to this school from Tokyo when he went to go live with his grandparents after his father had to go abroad for work (side note: I loved the phone calls with the dad where all he can talk about is how hot it is in India and the food he's been eating; it's cute). Koichi for me was a good POV character as he is a transfer student who isn't aware of the curse, so it makes the lore dumps for our sake make sense in universe. The other main character is Mei, a strange girl in Koichi's class who wears an eyepatch on her left eye and who the other students in the class seem to not know exists.

Pretty shortly into the series, you find out that the students not acknowledging Mei is a counter curse superstition. They choose one student in the class, and they act as though they're not there, thinking it will prevent Another person from appearing. This is also around the time that 1. the deaths start happening and more importantly 2. you find out Mei's left eye was replaced with a doll's eye when she was younger, and this doll eye gives her the ability to see the aura of death. Basically, she can see when a person has died/can tell who the dead person in the class is.

It's there that the plot kind of fell apart for me. The students don't know there is a way to stop the Calamity (I forgot to mention it in the premise section, but you can stop The Calamity if you identify the other and kill them, effectively returning them to the death they evaded)once it starts until a few episodes after Mei reveals her ability, but there's this whole mystery where the students are trying to figure out who the dead person is and Mei just...doesn't use her ability. On top of that, in the penultimate episode, Mei tells Koichi that she has known who the dead person was for pretty much the entire time and just...didn't tell anyone because...they were important to Koichi and "it wouldn't change anything" when...it would have? There was only a handful of deaths when they find out how to break the curse, and Mei decides to keep her mouth shut, which results in many more deaths leading up to them finally breaking the curse. I wonder if the novel did things differently/Mei didn't have this power because her having it and pointing out that she always knew retroactively ruins the them trying to solve the mystery.

That said, once everything is revealed, I can say the narrative did set up clues that the audience could use to solve the mystery. They weren’t consistently there, but viewers who pay attention will be able to put the pieces together.

Overall, I liked the atmosphere and characterization was good, but Mei's ability ruins the whole conclusion for me.

#i kind of wish mei just didn’t have some magic death seeing ability #because when she explains the Another to Koichi #she literally explains every detail that would prove that this person was dead the entire time #thus explaining things with logic #and her having a bro just trust me magic power kind of undermines the fact that she figured it out logically too #and if she had this magic power she should have used it to identify them right away #because a huge part of the tension between koichi and mei and their classmates comes in the classmates #being suspicious of them because they assume they're the dead person #she could have prevented so much senseless violence at the climax #and saved a ton of lives #like a few of the important supporting cast members die literally because they think Mei or Koichi is dead #and this all happens after they know how to break the curse #the first few deaths prior to them knowing how to break the curse really are senseless accidents in the vein of final destination #so I give the writing that #but there is legitimately a whole part of the last couple episodes where it's a blood bath of students killing each other #just hoping someone the kill is the dead one and that will end the curse #I also forgot to mention that the curse makes it so memory stuff regarding the other is weird #like if you go digging you can find out they died but you won't for instance remember attending their funeral #they're still dead and you can find evidence of it but your mind will tell you otherwise until presented with the actual reality of it

[deancasbisexual]

things I wouldn't believe happened if I hadn't seen them with my own two eyes:

cain implying cas is dean's collette

dean breaking cas out of naomi's mind control

cas' entire confession

dean's s13 widower arc

"I left, but you didn't stop me."

"he was your boyfriend first."

"the stench of that impala is all over your overcoat" or whatever he said

"don't make me lose you too."

dean turning aaron down not because he "doesn't swing that way" but because he's on a "federal investigation."

in fact, dean's entire reaction to aaron hitting on him

dean's disappointment when he found out aaron wasn't actually into him.

dean's siren being a dude and sam not questioning it despite still being under the impression that sirens infect people through sex

destiel divorce arc

dean completely giving up on life whenever cas dies

dean staying in purgatory for an entire year even though he could have left at anytime simply because he didn't want to leave without cas

dean seeing cas everywhere after purgatory just like how sam saw jess everywhere after she died

dean rewriting his memories of purgatory because he couldn't handle the fact that cas willingly chose to leave him and it was easier to believe that he failed cas instead

dean telling cas he's not going to let him die a virgin

"he's in love...with humanity."

cas putting donatello into a coma because he hurt dean

the handprint parallel (and that being jensen's idea)

"you have me confused with the other angel. you know, the one in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you?"

"sorry but i'd rather have you, cursed or not."

destiel dressed up as cowboys

"are you going to look at more anime or are strictly into dick now?"

"and how is it that you lost dean? I thought you two were joined at the, you know...everything."

the look on dean's face when he realized jack broke cas out of the empty (and the look bobby gave him in return)

"you're hoping castiel will return to you."

dean canonically being cas' human weakness

dean dropping to his knees and praying to cas while sobbing because he was scared of losing him

dean and crowley having orgies together

the mixtape

dean flirting with a guy through charlie

just the general way dean and cas look at each other and interact with each other like idk what else to say lmao

#your honor they are in love #your honor they are gay #deancas #destiel #supernatural #dean winchester #cas novak #castiel #spn

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 6: Dry Hump- James Potter

Summary: James Potter was your best friend, and he was unequivocally in love with Lily Evans. However, he has one secret he trusts only with you: he’s never kissed anyone.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, inexperienced James & experienced Reader, friends with benefits vibes, kissing/making out, dry humping, cumming in pants, teasing, nearly caught

Part 2 // Part 3

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

James Potter was your best friend. He had many best friends, including the other Marauders and fellow Gryffindors, but he was YOUR best friend and had been since the first year at Hogwarts. James was the one person you always ran to and shared all happy memories with; if you needed cheering up, he’d be the only one who could pull a smile to your lips. It had always been just the two of you until he became infatuated with Lily Evans.

It had been years of hearing about how wonderful Lily was, which you knew anyway as she was your friend. Finally, you convinced her to say yes to one date with James, even though she did wait until everyone was finishing their time at Hogwarts and about to graduate. He’d waited long enough, and you were thrilled to see him getting his dream date.

This was until he casually announced one day, “I’ve never kissed anyone”.

He’d mumbled it to himself under his breath. James had gone from pure exhilarated joy to fear and doubt at the weight he’d put on his shoulders for having to be the perfect date for Lily. You’d taken him to the Shrieking Shack to try and get away from everyone else so that James could blow off some steam, but all he’d done so far was sulk in his armchair and stare into the fire whilst waiting for Sirius and Remus to join after their lesson.

Then, out of the blue, he admitted his secret that he had yet to kiss anyone. A frown dawns on you as you turn away from the book in your hand to inspect the messy-haired Marauder next to you visually. “What?” you asked with a hint of uncertainty as if he was telling the truth, “How have you never kissed anyone before?” Your mind raced to all of the parties in the Gryffindor tower where most people, including yourself, had made out with others, but now that you thought about it, you’d never seen James lip-locked with anyone else.

It was James’ turn to frown as he looked at you blankly, “When would I have had time? I’ve just wanted to be with Lily, and she’s always said no when I’ve asked before. Anyway, I don’t see why you’re saying it in that tone; it’s not like you’ve been kissing loads of people”. You give James a tight-lipped smile to show that he was, in fact, very wrong with that statement. His eyes widen as he realises the truth, “Wait, you have? Since when?”

“James, how can you be shocked? I’ve kissed plenty of people before, especially during those parties with the fire whiskey that Sirius always steals for us. You wander off with the Marauders or fawn over Lily, and what am I supposed to do? Stand on my own? Absolutely not, I go and find some fun”.

Your best friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Still, he quickly covers it up by looking away grumpily, “Great, so I’m the only person in our year who hasn’t kissed anyone, and now, I’m going to take Lily out, and she’s going to refuse to see me again because I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re going to finish school, and I’ll never see her again, and I’ll die alone!”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top rant, shutting the book with a loud snap and facing him completely whilst still in your chair. “James, you need to chill out a bit; I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do you really think Lily’s been going around snogging loads of boys? I’m sure she’s just as inexperienced as you”.

James’ shoulders dropped in relief as he turned back towards you with hope in his hazel eyes, “Do you think so?”

Your face immediately gave it away that you’d been lying as you sighed, “Ok, I might have seen her making out with a Ravenclaw a year ago, but still, I wouldn’t worry about it! You’ll be excellent! You’re James Potter, the Gryffindor King, a founding Marauder and Gryffindor Seeker. You can sure as hell make out with Lily Evans correctly”.

The pretty Marauder smiled thankfully at your dramatic declaration, “That’s true, thanks, Sweetheart”. Relaxing back into your seat, the book returned to your hand, assuming the conversation was officially over. However, only a moment later, James is whining pathetically, “But what if I’m not good? What if I hurt her or lick her wrong or-”.

“Lick? Why are you licking her, James? I thought we were on about kissing?”

“We are! But you know, people use tongues and-”

“James, I don’t know what you want me to say; if you’re that petrified with kissing, why don’t we practice a little so you can stop freaking out”. It took you a couple of long seconds before the offer you’d just given him genuinely dawned on you. You weren’t sure why you had said it, expecting him to say no but wishing for him to calm down and thinking this was the only option.

James’ head snapped towards you, giving his full attention as he asked, “Wait, you’d do that?” He pushed himself up off the chair's arms, and his eyes were wide and hopeful again.

Lowering the book, you spoke slowly, “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s just a kiss, and at least we’re friends, so no feelings have to be involved”.

“Yeah, that's a good point! Okay, right, so, um, how do we do this? Do I come over to you, or do we stand?”

Sighing at James, you stood abruptly, dropping the book and strutting to him with arms swinging. The marauder sits up suddenly, taking his feet off the stool he had been resting on as he stares up at you with wide eyes that you can see the whites of his eyes beneath his glasses. “What are you doing?” He questions uncertainly as you straddle his lap without a word, your knees resting on either side of his toned thighs, your fingers slipping around his neck and interlocking at the base of his skull.

“I’m going to kiss you, James. Is that alright with you?” You didn’t mean to sound sassy as you asked with a single raised questioning eyebrow, but you also needed to make sure that he was happy for this to continue.

Those two wide hazel eyes stared at your lips, licking his own to moisten as he slowly nodded, “Uh yeah, just tell me what to do.” A pang of sympathy rushed through your chest at seeing James becoming nervous, which was not usually a sight that you had to see as he was usually such a confident, happy person. You would have spent some time to explain that it was normal to be nervous during your first kiss, but you didn’t want to allow any more time for him to freak out, so loosening your intern locked fingers, you moved them to cup each of her freshly shaved cheeks and pressed your lips delicately against his. You wanted it to be quick enough that he didn’t even have time to tense, even though he did proceed to lock up as you moved back to assess his reaction.

“See, it’s not so scary. You’re supposed to enjoy this, James”. Thankfully, as your face lowered once more, he forced himself to take a steadying breath and relax the tension in his muscles as your lips caressed his.

They were softer than you’d anticipated, plump and smooth like a pillow and instantly, your eyes and his close. However, James surprised you by moving his first. His hand lifted and rested on your hip so gently that you hardly felt it until he gave your body a little squeeze to test the waters of how much he could get into the moment. So you rewarded him by pressing your face harder against his, lips beginning to move and rubbing against each other on instinct.

James even amazed himself with how naturally and quickly he could make out with you. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, nose pressing into his cheek so that you could smell his skin that had remnants of his aftershave, which was always spicy and woodsy. As the air became necessary, you pulled back enough to take deep, greedy breaths, now noticing he was doing the same thing but looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“So what did you think-”

James didn’t allow your sentence to finish as his other hand cupped along your jaw, pulling your face closer again until the two of you kissed with much more heat with the movements. His mouth opened wider to match how yours was moving against his; your heartbeat quickened as you leaned further into his tall, warm body, melting into his touch and kiss.

Then you wanted to take a risk and licked his bottom lip, which you were ultimately greeted with a praising deep groan of satisfaction that vibrated James’ entire chest and sent tingles straight to your core.

Ok, wow, you thought as James attempted and succeeded with his own lick back against your tongue; you were definitely getting turned on by this. As if he was reading your mind, James pressed harder on your hips, willing you to move down, which you did, your skirt pushing up on your thighs so that when you sat on his crotch, your panty-covered pussy was flush against the material of his trousers.

As one, the two of you pulled away from each other. Mainly because you were now sitting on his very hard erection and also because he knew you could feel his evidence of being aroused. You both stare at each other with wide, unblinking eyes, lips slightly swollen and the taste of his spit still on your tongue.

However, you didn’t want to stop and awkwardly sit back in your seat, and he wasn’t rushing to push you off, either. You were horny, and so was he. Yes, James Potter was your best friend, but that didn’t have to matter; you just wanted him to enjoy the moment and show that it wasn’t as scary as he thought.

Enough time passed, and if he didn’t want to continue, he would have said something by now, so you took the opportunity to lean back in, your thumb attempting to soothe him, stroking across his cheek in timid circles. As your mouths reconnected, your hips ground down on his crotch. You were hoping that he knew enough about anatomy to tell that the warmth from your pussy was a sign of arousal, wanting him to know you were just as turned on as he was.

You do it a few more times, rubbing back and forth with increasing pressure until James makes a pained noise that has you stopping altogether and checking in on him.

He’s looking everywhere but at you, as he apologises, “Sorry, it’s just these trousers are tight and rubbing me painfully”.

“You could just take them off”, you say once again, not thinking before you speak. James looks at you with dramatically wide eyes as he, too, realised what you’d just said. Quickly, you clarified, “I’m not saying that to have sex or anything; I just mean, we could kinda carry on doing what we are doing, but if your trousers are hurting, then just in your boxers”.

You’re surprised by his automatic response of a nod, yes, his arousal blocking all thoughts of Lily as he begins to undo his belt easily. Rising onto your knees to give him room, he pushed the offending material until his thighs were bare and his plaid boxers were on display, barely containing his length. Not wanting him to feel exposed, you lowered yourself once more, and both groaned at the contact, yours at a higher pitch as you could feel the entire outline of his cock against your cunt.

James was bigger than you’d thought and was currently pointing down his left thigh, so you angled your hips in this direction. Tilting your hips forward slightly, your clit grazed along his shaft, causing a hitch in your breath as it caused pleasure to pool in your abdomen, moisture slickening your hole with each movement.

You’re breathing just as heavily as he is, lips still moving against each other, exploring, tasting, needing more. You were kind of proud of him when he moved his face down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses and causing more pleasure to pulse through you. You were half tempted to rise onto your knees again to show him the evidence of your arousal that had soaked through your panties and onto his boxers, but you didn’t want it to stop.

As your fingers delved into his messy black hair to hold his face closer, he thrust his hips up against yours to add to his stimulation. He was still apprehensive, so he didn’t push too hard, but he rocked back and forth until his tip was pressed against your clothed folds. The muscular thighs beneath yours tensed with each thrust, the muscles defined from all his years of playing quidditch.

His hands remained in place, one on the opposite side of your jaw to where his mouth still kissed, and the other hand helped to move your hips back and forth in time with his own ruts. You’d never actually gotten off like this with anyone before. Usually, underwear would be removed at this point, and more direct contact could occur, but it was still exciting to have some barriers between you. The lace of your underwear was quite rough against your most sensitive area, especially your engorged throbbing clit. You were sure to be sore afterwards, especially with the amount of pressure you were rubbing against each other; with each passing second, the need to find completion made you both desperate.

As his lips found yours again, his tongue began to delve and explore the hollow of your mouth, along your palate and even over your teeth; your pussy began to clench, fire blooming in your core with the impending release.

Pulling back, your fingers moved to rest on his shoulders to hold on tighter as you quickly moaned, “Please don’t stop; I’m going to cum”.

James moaned huskily, out of breath, but both of his hands were now on your hips, moving both his hips and yours faster to find his orgasm. Resting your forehead on his, you both shared the same area, still tasting the other in your mouths, sweat beginning to coat your faces. You were sure you could feel his own wet patch against your arse cheek from where precum was dribbling from his tip and staining his underwear. 

“Ah, fuck- James!” your head tilts back as you finally orgasm, thighs shaking and pussy fluttering around nothing. However, just as you were beginning to come down from your pleasurable high, James suddenly grabbed you painfully, both arms wrapping around your waist as he sat up further on the chair, nearly knocking you off of him if it wasn't for his grip around your midsection. Reassuringly your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his face nuzzled into your chest, his body shivering as thick spurts of cum soaked his boxers.

His moans were like music to your ears and sounded slightly pathetic, making you cling to him more, attempting to run your fingers through his hair to calm the crazy style, but to no avail. Your pussy felt like it was on fire due to the rough stimulation and the untouched orgasm, but it felt so good you savoured the sensation for a few minutes whilst trying to catch your breath.

“There you go, Potter. Not only have you kissed a girl for the first time, but you’ve also made her cum”.

James laughs, loosening his grip slightly to look up at you, but then you both hear the worst noise imaginable: voices from a few floors below, especially those of Sirius and Remus. You scrambled to your feet, straightening your clothes and sitting back in your chair, picking up the book and opening it to a random page as James pulled up his trousers, both of you ignoring the bodily juices completely.

James just about had his feet back on the footstool before Sirius and Remus walked in, but both immediately halted and looked between you and James. It was Sirius who spoke first, eyes squinting in accusation, “Why do you both look so guilty right now? What did you do?”

#james potter #james potter smut #james potter x reader #james potter one shot #harry potter smut #harry potter #mine* #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[pucksandpower]

Legends Never Die

Carlos Sainz x Senna!Reader

Summary: sometimes the hole in your heart left behind by the passing of your father becomes almost too much to bear, but Carlos and his family never fail to ease the ache

Brazilian Grand Prix, 2023

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you step out onto the podium at Interlagos after winning your home race — the Brazilian Grand Prix — for McLaren.

You wave to the sea of fans, trying to keep your emotions in check. But it’s impossible. Everywhere you look there are reminders of your father.

Fans wave Brazilian flags emblazoned with his iconic yellow and green helmet. Others wear t-shirts bearing his name and race number. Signs reading “Senna Forever” make your chest tighten.

He’s everywhere … except where you need him most. In your memories.

You were just a baby when he died in that fateful accident at Imola in 1994. You only know the sound of his voice through crackling video footage, his infectious smile from yellowing photographs. But you don’t actually remember him. Your own father, the man whose immense legacy you carry on your shoulders each time you slide into the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

By the time the national anthem plays and the champagne corks pop, you can barely see through the tears welling in your eyes. You blink them back rapidly, hoping the cameras don’t pick up on your emotional state. As soon as the ceremony ends, you practically run off the podium, heading straight for the sanctuary of your driver’s room.

You barely make it through the door before the sobs start wracking your body. You sink down onto the couch, drawing your knees up and burying your face in your hands as the tears flow freely.

How can you feel so alone when surrounded by so many who loved him?

A soft knock at the door cuts through your cries. You know immediately who it is without having to ask.

“Come in,” you manage to choke out, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks.

The door opens and there’s Carlos, looking concerned but unsurprised to find you in this state. Of course he knows. By now, he can likely sense when these waves of emotion are about to crash over you.

Carlos crosses the room and settles onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. You immediately curl against his chest, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. One of his hands comes up to soothingly stroke your hair as the other rubs circles across your back.

“Let it out, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here.”

The gentleness in his voice is your undoing. You let out a gasping sob, tears soaking through the material of his firesuit as you finally allow yourself to unravel completely in his embrace.

“I-I don’t remember him,” you hiccup between harsh breaths. “I w-won my home race and all I could see out there were ghosts. He was everywhere b-but in my own mind!”

“Shh, I know,” Carlos soothes, rubbing your back. “I know it hurts, mi vida. But he’s here.” He places his palm over your heart. “Your dad lives in here, just like you live in his.”

You lift your head, seeking out his warm brown eyes through your tear-blurred vision. “How can you be so sure? I don’t have a single first-hand memory of him. I know Ayrton Senna the legend, but not my own father.”

A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’s lips. “Because that’s how it is for all of us who didn’t get the chance to really know him.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “We keep him alive in our hearts through the way he inspired us, the lives he touched without ever realizing it. And for you ...” His expression turns amazed, eyes shining with an emotion you can’t quite place. “For you, he’s here.” He runs his hands over the sides of your body, splaying his fingers wide. “A part of him lives on, in you and through you each time you drive. You embody everything he represented behind the wheel — passion, adrenaline, an unquenchable desire to be the best. That’s your father’s legacy beating within you.”

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the jumbled tempest of feelings swirling inside you. Part of you wants to protest, to insist your longing for a tangible connection to your father can’t be satisfied by philosophical musing.

And yet … Carlos’ words reverberate within you, striking a chord. You think of the split-second decision making, the fearless way you attack corners, your refusal to ever give any less than your full effort.

Those are all traits you’ve been told time and time again you inherited from Ayrton. And maybe Carlos is right — maybe that is how you’ll know him best in this life.

Slowly, you reach up to cradle Carlos’ face in your palms, searching his caring gaze. “How did I get so lucky?” You whisper, a few rogue tears spilling over. “To have someone who understands me, understands this hole in my life, and loves me enough to fill it as best he can?”

The look of utter adoration on Carlos’ face steals your breath. Gently, he leans in to capture your lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses. The tenderness, the depth of emotion in that one simple gesture is enough to make your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I’m the lucky one, mi amor,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across your lips. “To be loved by you ...” He shakes his head slowly in seeming awe of you. “You make me feel blessed every day just by letting me share in your existence.”

You let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to fight the giddy smile blooming across your face. Trust Carlos to somehow make you feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world after you’ve just spent who knows how long crying on his shoulder.

“You big sap,” you tease, booping him on the nose. You search his expression, your chest filling with warmth at the laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. “I love you, you know that right?”

The words hang there, heavy and significant. You realize you’ve never actually said them before, not with such simple yet loaded sincerity.

From the look of surprise and unbridled joy that overtakes Carlos’ features, he realizes it too. His hands come up to cradle your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you tenderly.

“Mi alma ...” he breathes out reverently. “Te amo, mi vida. I love you with all my heart.”

The depth of emotion in his voice, the Spanish words of love and adoration tumbling from his lips, it’s all too much. You surge forward, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as the last of your tears, these born of happiness and love rather than sorrow, streak down your cheeks.

Carlos kisses you back with an intensity that leaves you lightheaded. His fingers tighten almost possessively in your hair as the kiss deepens, growing more heated and passionate. You’re vaguely aware of him shifting until you’re nearly in his lap, bodies aligned and thrumming with a very different kind of electricity than you’re used to on the track.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too insistent to ignore. You break apart, both of you panting heavily. Carlos’ lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown wide. He looks like a man thoroughly ravished.

You can’t help the impish grin. “So I take it you feel the same way?”

His laugh is low and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh mi amor ...” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You have no idea.”

You bite your lip, about to suggest taking this celebration elsewhere more private. But a new thought suddenly occurs, giving you pause. Slowly, almost shyly, you meet his heated gaze.

“Carlos … do you really think he would be proud of me?” The uncertainty in your voice is painfully obvious. “My father, I mean. You think he’s ...” You swallow hard. “You think he’s watching over me and approving of the person I’ve become?”

The seriousness of your question douses some of the blazing desire in Carlos’ eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a look of such fierce conviction, such affection for you, it makes your breath catch.

“Cariño,” he begins, voice thick with emotion as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Your father was the embodiment of passion and integrity in the pursuit of greatness. On the track, he gave everything. He put his heart and soul into being the best driver, the best competitor he could be. And that’s exactly what I see when I watch you race.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers tenderly trace the line of your jaw. “You drive with the same fire, the same refusal to let anything less than your full ability shine through. And off the track?” He lets out a soft huff of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, let’s just say the determination, the sheer force of will I see in you would make any parent proud.”

You bite your lip, struggling against the swell of emotion building in your chest at his words. “Really? You don’t think he’d be … disappointed? That I’m not living up to his legacy or-”

“Hey.” Carlos cuts you off firmly, holding your gaze. “Your father didn’t just leave a legacy of winning championships or setting records, mi amor. He left a legacy of spirit. Of personality. Of being a loving, passionate human being who inspired millions.” His thumb strokes along your cheekbone as his eyes shine with complete sincerity. “And let me tell you — in that way? You are so perfectly your father’s daughter it’s unreal.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, but this time they are born of relief, of love and reassurance. You manage a watery smile, curling your hand around the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper fervently. “For understanding. For loving me through the shadows and the ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His arms tighten around you, holding you flush against his body in an embrace filled with devotion. “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

A delighted shiver runs through you at his tone, at the deliciously possessive edge to his promise. Shifting in his lap, you capture his lips in a searing kiss filled with all the love, the passion, the longing you’ve been holding at bay.

Carlos responds with equal fervor, one hand burying in your hair while the other maps searing paths across your back, your sides, pulling you ever closer until there’s no space between your bodies. The room seems to simultaneously tilt and burn away until there is only the two of you, tangled together in a heated spiral of want and need.

At some point, you become vaguely aware of Carlos rising to his feet, your legs winding instinctively around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. Your back presses against the nearest wall and you moan softly into his mouth at the delicious friction. His hands are everywhere, stoking the fire burning through your veins with every scorching caress.

Finally, and reluctantly, you pull your lips from his with a gasp. “Carlos … if we don’t get out of here soon, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

He grins wolfishly at you, pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that a promise, mi amor?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sends sparks of pure hunger fluttering through your stomach.

Holding his heated gaze, you slowly drag your nails down the back of his neck in a deliberate tease, relishing the way his eyes darken even further. “Take me home, Carlos,” you purr, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. “And I’ll show you just how promising I can be.”

His response is to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss, pressing you harder against the wall as a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he’s turning and striding towards the door, carrying you easily as your legs remain locked around his waist.

Breathless with wanting, you finally pull away as he reaches for the doorknob, laughing softly. “I see someone’s eager.”

Carlos’s eyes gleam with pure, undisguised hunger as he looks at you over his shoulder. “For you, mi alma?” He leans in, lips hovering tantalizingly close as his beard brushes your tingling skin. “Always.”

With that, he’s swinging the door open and striding out into the hallway, completely uncaring of who might see. His focus, his entire world, is solely on you in this moment. Just as yours is on him.

As the adrenaline of victory fades and the ache of longing for your absent father eases into a dull, familiar ache, you’re reminded once more of the incredible gift you’ve been given.

Carlos’ love, his understanding and acceptance of every broken, yearning part of you is a blessing. One you vow never to take for granted.

Winding your arms securely around his neck, you let yourself get lost in the heat of his gaze, the depth of emotion shining there. And you realize — with him, you don’t feel so alone.

Even if your father isn’t here in person, some piece of him does live on. Not in memories or old recordings. But in the love you hold in your heart. The love you pour into everything you do, every dream you dare to chase. The love that connects you to Carlos so wholly.

Maybe, just maybe, your father is prouder than either of you can fathom as he watches the remarkable life you’ve created together unfold.

Smiling softly, you lean in to feather a kiss along the sharp line of Carlos’ jaw, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Take me home, meu amor.”

Australian Grand Prix, 2024

The podium ceremony is pure pandemonium. Carlos stands on the top step, beaming and cheering, having just claimed his first win of the new season. You’re on the second step beside him, arm raised in celebration of your own P2 finish. The energy from the crowd is electric, filling your veins with the same adrenaline rush as when you crossed the finish line.

You should be deliriously happy. Scoring such a strong result alongside your boyfriend at the third race is the dream start to your championship chase. And yet … something feels off. A strange melancholy tugs at the corner of your heart even as the champagne sprays and camera flashes bombard you from all angles.

Then you spot him — Carlos’ father, beaming at his son from the front of the crowd gathered below the podium. His chest is puffed out with undisguised pride, eyes crinkled at the corners behind his designer shades.

As you watch, father and son’s gazes meet and lock, and the sheer depth of emotion in that one look breaks something inside you.

Oh.

That’s what’s missing.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath. You barely register the Spanish national anthem playing as your eyes stay glued to the tender scene before you.

Carlos shooting his father a brilliant grin, chin dipping in acknowledgment of the pride shining through. Carlos Sr.’s face split by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s such a simple gesture, but one utterly steeped in parental pride.

You should look away before it gets to be too much, but some masochistic part of you can’t tear your gaze from the heartwarming display. Seeing that effortless bond between father and son, witnessing their silent communication and affection laden with years of inside jokes and childhood memories … it awakens a hollow ache, one you’re terribly familiar with.

By the time the ceremony finally winds down, hot tears are stinging your eyes. You blink rapidly, ducking your head in hopes that the dark tint of your sunglasses conceals your fragile state. But of course, Carlos notices immediately.

He pauses mid-celebration, halfway through accepting some prize filled with the event sponsor’s product. Frowning, he leans in close under the pretense of thanking you for pushing him all the way. “Mi alma? What’s wrong?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the naked concern in his voice. Trust Carlos to pick up on your inner turmoil even in the middle of what should be an incredibly joyous occasion. Steeling yourself, you manage a smile that you hope passes as genuine.

“Nothing, I’m just ...” Your excuse dies in your throat as you look past him towards the crowd once more.

Carlos Sr. is shouldering his way through the mass of staff and media, pushing towards his son. He’s waving and grinning from ear to ear as Carlos straightens up, delight overtaking his features. The second the older Sainz’s feet cross the barriers, Carlos drops everything and bounds over, hauling his father into a tight embrace.

They laugh and cheer as Carlos pumps a victorious fist in the air, the other arm wrapped securely around Carlos Sr. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Their body language says it all.

Pride. Joy. Celebration. A bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice, of a lifetime pursuing the most elite level of a deadly sport.

Father and son, reveling together in the sweetness of hard-earned success.

Your throat constricts painfully as you watch them, your own arms wrapping protectively around your middle. How many times had you dreamed of recreating this exact moment as a young girl? Crossing the chequered line in first place, only to be swept up in a boundless hug by a beaming, triumphant father?

You remember pretending with your childhood race cars, standing on an overturned bucket that served as your make-believe podium. You’d mimic the anthems and champagne sprays, then launch yourself off the “top step“ and into the arms of an imaginary Ayrton, dreaming about what it would feel like to bury your face in his shoulder as he swung you around, both of you dissolving into happy laughter as you celebrated together.

Of course, those were only childish fantasies even then. By the time you were old enough to understand racing, to grasp what your father did and meant to the world, he was already long gone. You never got the chance to make those podium daydreams a reality.

And you never would.

The harsh truth is like a bucket of ice water over your head. You’re vaguely aware of your sunglasses slipping down your nose as your eyes burn with unshed tears. Angrily, you blink them back, steeling your jaw.

Now is not the time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you can muster as Carlos and his father turn back towards you. Throwing propriety to the wind, Carlos Sr. comes up to engulf you in a tight hug, the scratch of barely-there stubble rasping against your cheek.

“Another stellar drive, mariposa,” he praises in his thick, warm accent as Carlos laughs in delight beside you. “Keeping this one on his toes, I see.”

Despite your fragile emotional state, you can’t help but grin at his spirit and affection. “Always,” you reply, squeezing him back firmly before pulling away to make room for Carlos.

Almost automatically, you take a step back to give them space. You have no wish to intrude on what should be their private moment together. And sure enough, no sooner have you retreated than Carlos is wrapping his arm around his father’s shoulders, guiding him towards the edge of the pit lane where Ferrari representatives are waiting.

You hang back, a sad smile playing across your lips as you watch them go. All the teasing and laughing, the play-fights and unbreakable bonds of family you wish you could have experienced for yourself play out in vivid detail before your eyes.

Off to the side, almost like an afterthought despite your place right beside him on the podium. Just … watching.

Slowly, you turn away, the roar of the fans and celebrations fading into the distance as you head up the ramp to the McLaren motorhome.

A thousand wistful memories drift through your mind. Muted footage of you as a newborn cradled in your father’s arms, grinning up at him in pure innocence and adoration. Photos of Ayrton gazing down at his infant daughter with a look of such unconditional love that it breaks you all over again.

No matter how many trophies you win or records you break, that will always be the one achievement he never had the chance to witness. You’ll never experience a father’s unadulterated pride at his child’s success.

Your breath hitches as you finally reach the solitude of your private room, sinking onto the plush sofa as the tears begin rolling in earnest. Who are you kidding? As much as Carlos and his family envelop you in their warmth, as much as you are unquestionably part of their clan now … there is always going to be an empty space in your heart where a father’s love should be.

You bury your face in your hands, ignoring the wet streaks smearing across your knuckles as you try in vain to compose yourself. You can’t be like this, falling apart every time. Carlos deserves to revel in one of the greatest wins of his career. He shouldn’t have to devote energy to consoling you, not after a spectacular drive like that.

A soft knock at the door startles you. Swiping hastily at your cheeks, you suck in a shuddering breath and call out. “Come in.”

The door opens, and of course, it’s Carlos. Because even in the midst of unbridled jubilation, he senses your inner turmoil. He steps inside, the happiness draining from his expression as he takes in your blotchy complexion and reddened eyes.

“Mi amor,” he breathes, crossing to you in two quick strides and gathering you into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweat-damp race suit as he rubs soothing circles across your back. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s got you so upset, hmm?”

You want to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you simply shake your head, a few errant tears slipping free to wet the material covering his shoulder. Carlos doesn’t push, just holds you close and lets you cry it out against him.

Eventually, you find your voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration like this. You should be out there enjoying your win, not consoling your mess of a girlfriend.”

“Hey now,” he chides gently, tipping your chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “None of that, mi alma. Your feelings are never something to apologize for.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. “I know today was … difficult. Seeing me with my dad, it brought up a lot of old hurts, didn’t it?”

You let out a watery chuckle, amazed as always by his intuition when it comes to your innermost struggles. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows and loves every facet of you,” he replies simply, stroking your hair back from your forehead. “Will you tell me? Let me in on what you’re feeling so I can try to understand?”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod and disentangle yourself enough to sit beside him on the couch. You keep one of his hands linked with yours, anchoring you as you gather your thoughts. “It’s just … out there on the podium, when I saw you and your dad together ...” You pause, blinking rapidly against a fresh swell of tears. “It reminded me all over again of what I’m missing. What I’ll never get to have.”

Carlos’ expression softens with understanding and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging you to continue. You draw strength from his presence beside you.

“You two have this … bond. This connection, like you’re the only ones who truly understand each other’s perspectives. And I’m envious, Carlos. So envious of the lifetime of love and memories that exists just in the silent communication between you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No, mi vida.” Carlos is firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Not pathetic at all. You’re allowed to feel that longing, that sadness over being deprived of something so integral.” His free hand comes up to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb stroking along your cheekbone. “You miss your dad. You mourn not having that relationship in your life. Those are entirely valid feelings to have, especially on days like this when I got to share my joy with my own father.”

You lean into his touch, fresh tears spilling over at his words as your breath hitches. “It’s like … no matter what I accomplish, no matter how successful I become, there will always be this hole.” Your hand comes up to clasp his wrist, holding him close. “Because he never got to see it. He never got to be that person cheering me on, taking pride in my achievements. Instead, I’m left imagining what it would be like, watching you and your dad and aching for something I can’t have.”

Carlos’ eyes turn molten, brimming with empathy and sorrow for your pain. Slowly, he guides you forward until your foreheads are pressed together, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Mi amor … I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or take away that regret and heartache. All I can do is promise to spend every day showing you how proud I am of you.” His fingers thread through your hair, cradling your head tenderly. “You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever known. Watching you out on the track, giving everything you have with that same fire and spirit as your father … words can’t express how awestruck I am. How honored I feel to witness your brilliance and passion race after race.”

You suck in a sharp breath at the reverent tone in his voice, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks at the depth of feeling behind his words. Carlos tugs you even closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re sharing the same air in an intimate embrace.

“I only wish he could see you the way I do,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours with each word. “I wish he was here to feel the immense pride and adoration I feel every single time you leave me breathless behind the wheel.” A tender, lingering kiss punctuates his words. “You are your father’s greatest legacy, mi alma. And I will spend every day showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

A choked whimper escapes your lips as you surge forward, capturing Carlos’ mouth in a searing, fevered kiss. You pour every ounce of overwhelmed emotion, every bit of ardor and heartache and gratitude into the heated glide of your lips against his. His arms band around you like steel cables, holding you impossibly close as the kiss turns bruising, desperate, all-consuming.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both panting harshly. Carlos’ pupils are blown wide, lips red and swollen and thoroughly kissed. He stares at you with such naked adoration, such devotion, that it steals what little breath you have left.

“Thank you,” you rasp, cradling his face in your trembling hands. “Thank you for loving me so completely. Despite all my broken pieces, you see me at my core and still chose me.”

He leans into your touch, lips brushing your palm. “There is nothing to thank me for, mi amor. You are the sun, I’m merely lucky enough to orbit you and bask in your warmth.” He places another soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right over your thundering pulse. “I am yours, corazón. Every piece of me, for every piece of you. Never doubt that.”

A fresh wave of emotion rises up, this one filled with pure, dizzying love and affection for the incredible man kneeling before you. Pulling him up, you simply hold him for a long moment, relishing his solid strength surrounding you in the protective circle of his arms.

Here, in his embrace, the ache of your father’s absence dulls to a faded echo in the corners of your heart. Here, you can breathe easy, reassured and loved down to your very core.

Eventually, the sounds of celebration filter in through the door — your team must be getting restless waiting for their driver. Carlos seems to hear it too, huffing out a quiet chuckle against your hairline.

“We should get out there, hmm? Before both of our teams send a search party for their drivers.”

You nod, but make no move to disentangle yourself, soaking up his warmth and steady presence for a few more selfish moments.

When you do finally pull away, there are fresh tear tracks on your cheeks but also a peaceful smile gracing your lips. Reverently, you run your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at Carlos’ temples as his eyes flutter closed, savoring your touch.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words seeming impossibly inadequate to convey the depth of feeling they represent. “Endlessly, meu amado.”

Carlos’ gaze when he opens his eyes practically glows with emotion, pure elation and adoration radiating from his expression. “As I love you, mi alma,” he husks, stealing one more searingly tender kiss. “Always.”

With twin smiles and your hands linked tightly, you exit the room together into the raucous cheers and celebrations. Outside, you can see Carlos Sr. surrounded by a sea of red, laughing and beaming with incomparable pride and joy at his son’s success. Your breath catches when he spots the two of you emerging, arms flinging wide.

“There are my superstars! Vámonos, we have a victory to toast!”

As Carlos tugs you forward into the chaos, his father enveloping you both in a crushing embrace and peppering your cheeks with scratchy kisses, you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

Yes, there will always be an absence where your father should have been, a hollow space in your heart shaped perfectly to his memory. But you’ll never truly be alone.

Not with Carlos beside you every step of the way. Not with his family’s boundless love and affection enveloping you, treating you as their own daughter. They are the salve for when that empty ache becomes too much to bear.

So you let yourself sink into the celebration, into the warmth of the Sainz clan and the sheer euphoria of your personal success. As long as Carlos keeps chasing his passion with the same fanatical devotion as his father … as long as you chase your own with every ounce of vigor and spirit that your father passed down through shared blood … then Ayrton will never stop watching over you both with immeasurable pride and a heart overflowing with love.

And for now, for today, that will simply have to be enough.

Days Before the Miami Grand Prix, 2024

The Miami sun sinks lower in the sky, bathing the hotel balcony in a warm orange glow. You lean against the railing, staring unseeingly at the cruise ships dotting the horizon. Your eyes are glassy, your mind a million miles away.

It’s been thirty years to the day since your father’s life was snatched away. Thirty years of living in his immense shadow, constantly reminded of the racing legend you never truly knew.

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, a steady stream of texts and calls offering condolences. Old acquaintances you haven’t spoken to in years, suddenly reaching out on this morbid anniversary.

What can you possibly say that the world doesn’t already know? That they haven’t already dissected and analyzed a million times over?

The harsh truth is that so many strangers have more vivid memories of Ayrton Senna than his own daughter. It’s a sobering reality, one that reopens that wound all over again every May 1st.

You feel numb, gutted, emptied out.

“Amor?” The familiar voice pulls you from your reverie. You turn to find Carlos staring at you with soft concern in his warm brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

You try for a reassuring smile, but it feels stale on your lips. “I’m fine, just … thinking.”

He sees right through you, the way he always does. Crossing the balcony, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. You lean back into his solid embrace, drawing comfort from his presence.

“You know you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, right?” He murmurs against your hair. “Not today.”

You let out a shuddering breath, blinking back the sting of tears. “I know. It’s just … it never gets any easier, you know? All these years later and the wound still feels fresh.”

His arms tighten around you. “I’m so sorry, mi amor. I wish I could take the pain away.”

“You help more than you know, just by being here,” you reply thickly. A tremulous smile curves your lips as you cover his hands with yours. “Thank you for putting up with my melancholy every year.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The sound of the balcony door opening draws your attention as Carlos Sr. steps out onto the balcony, his eyes kind but assessing as he takes in the two of you embracing.

“Ah, lo siento,” he says apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“No, no, you’re not intruding,” you assure him, reluctantly extracting yourself from Carlos’ arms. You turn to face his father, subtly wiping at your damp eyes. “What’s going on?”

Carlos Sr. hesitates, shooting his son a questioning look. Carlos nods almost imperceptibly.

“Actually, hijo, do you mind if I borrow Y/N for a few minutes?” Carlos’ father asks. “Hombre a hombre, as they say.”

Your brows knit in confusion, but Carlos just smiles faintly and drops a kiss on your temple. “Of course. I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready, mi vida.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, he disappears back into the suite, leaving you alone with his father on the balcony. The older Sainz settles into one of the plush lounge chairs with a slight groan.

“Please, join an old man,” he says, patting the chair beside him. You hesitate briefly before sinking into the indicated seat. An awkward silence stretches between you both.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Carlos’ father begins at last. “I am not usually at such a loss for words. But I find myself struggling to know what to say on a day like today.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “Trust me, you’re not the only one at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to myself half the time.”

He regards you with such tender understanding that it steals your breath away. “My dear girl, you have carried such a heavy burden on those young shoulders for far too long. No child should have to grow up in the shadow of tragedy the way you have.”

Tears well up anew in your eyes. “I just … I wish I could remember him, you know? Really remember him, not just what I’ve seen in videos or heard in interviews. It feels so unfair that the whole world has vibrant memories of who he was, but I’m just … left with echoes and fragments of a man I never truly knew.”

Carlos Sr.’s eyes glisten with empathy as he reaches over to take your hand, enveloping it in his calloused grip. “Listen to me, mija. While I cannot begin to understand the depth of your loss, I do know this — it is never strange to mourn someone you loved, even if you cannot recall the time you spent together.”

His words are like a soothing balm on the ragged wound of your heart. You squeeze his hand fiercely, struggling to keep your composure as he continues.

“Your father was ...” He pauses, seeming to carefully weigh his next words. “Your father was an incredible man, one who touched countless lives all over the world. But to you, he was simply your father. And that bond, that love between a parent and child, transcends memory. It lives on in here.” He taps his heart with his free hand. “In a way that no amount of biographies or documentaries could ever capture.”

The tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks. You make no effort to stop them this time. Carlos’ father merely watches you with infinite tenderness, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

“I know I cannot replace the father you lost,” he continues softly. “Nor would I ever try. But I hope you know that our family … we love you as one of our own, mija. You will always have a home and a family with us, for as long as you desire it.”

A broken sound escapes your throat and Carlos Sr. immediately rises from his chair to gather you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure and achingly paternal. You bury your face in his shoulder, body shaking with muffled sobs as the floodgates finally burst open.

“That’s it, let it all out,” he murmurs, one broad hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Holding in such grief for so long, it’s a wonder you did not crumble beneath the weight of it long ago. You are stronger than you know, mija.”

You cry until you’re completely spent, until the front of Carlos Sr.’s shirt is damp and your eyes are swollen and puffy. When at last the tears subside, leaving you wrung out but strangely peaceful, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at your cheeks.

“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” He asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles down at you. “I think my son may have plans to cheer you up, if you’re amenable?”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling lighter than you have in days … weeks … months maybe. “That does sound nice.”

The elder Spaniard presses the handkerchief into your hand, then steers you back towards the balcony door with a gentle hand on your back. “Then what are we waiting for? That boy may look like me, but his sweet tooth is all his mother’s doing.”

You pause in the doorway, impulsively turning to throw your arms around the man who has, in many ways, become a second father to you. “Thank you,” you whisper shakily against his shoulder. “For everything.”

His arms tighten around you briefly. “De nada, mija. That’s what family is for.”

When at last you disentangle yourself, Carlos is waiting just inside, a bright smile lighting up his face at the sight of the two of you. On the counter, a cheerful array of pastries and confections beckons, the delicious aroma of fresh Brazilian baked goods enveloping you in a warm, sugary hug.

Carlos’ eyes are shining with love and relief as you cross the room to plant a lingering kiss of gratitude on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” you murmur when you finally pull back, cradling his face in your palms. “Thank you for being you.”

His forehead drops to rest against yours. “Always, mi alma. I’ll never stop loving you and being here for you, no matter what.”

You hold him tightly for a long moment, savoring his warmth and solidity. When you finally part, Carlos’ arm stays looped around your waist as he turns towards the dessert spread.

“So, I may have gone a little overboard at the bakery,” he admits with an unrepentant grin, waving his free hand at the sugary bounty. “But it’s been a rough day and you deserve to indulge a little.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling some of the lingering heaviness dissipate at the pure, infectious joy on his face. Leave it to Carlos to try and solve everything with baked goods and affection.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, leaning into his side, “I suppose I can’t say no to that face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlos crows, beaming at you with such adoration that it makes your heart squeeze. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scoops up one of the frosted confections and holds it up to your lips. “Open wide, mi amor.”

You obediently take a bite of the sugary pastry, the rich flavors of doce de leite and buttery dough melting over your tongue. Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly as you slowly lick a stray bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth.

His father clears his throat loudly behind you. “Ay dios mio, get a room you two!”

Carlos has the grace to look abashed, but you just grin unrepentantly at your future father-in-law as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Carlos says cheekily, surprising you by suddenly sweeping you up into his arms bridal-style.

You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly dissolves into delighted laughter as he starts carrying you toward the bedroom, peppering your face with noisy kisses. Over his shoulder, you catch Carlos Sr.’s indulgent smile and parting wink before the door swings shut behind you.

The rest of the evening passes in a sugary, affectionate haze. For the first time in as long as you can remember, the grief feels bearable, soothed by the love of your chosen family.

While the ache may never fully heal, you have a newfound sense of lightness in your heart.

As you lay tangled in the sheets later that night, Carlos’ arm a grounding weight around your waist, you send up a silent thank you to whatever cosmic forces brought this incredible man into your life.

And maybe, just maybe, your father can finally rest easy knowing his little girl found her way to happiness after all.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz drabble

[starkwlkr]

it’s nothing new | sebastian vettel

part 1 part 3

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading! you can read it here!

“hello?”

“mark, hi.”

“y/n? it’s been a while. how are you?” the aussie asked. it had been years since you spoke to mark, but he always kept you updated. he sent messages about how everyone in the paddock was doing, which you appreciated him for.

“i . . i’m okay. is this a bad time to talk to you?” you asked. you suddenly remembered about time zones.

“it’s alright, i always have time for you. what’s going on?” he questioned.

“so i am at my sister’s house and i didn’t want to sleep the whole flight so i decided to read your book.” you replied. “it’s a beautiful book, mark.”

“thanks.” he knew there was more you wanted to say. “are you mad?”

“mad about what?” you asked. “what you wrote about sebastian and i? is that what you’re talking about?”

“well yeah. i tried to contact you several times. you wouldn’t answer my messages so i assumed you changed numbers. seb told me he didn’t care if i wrote it in—”

“mark, i’m not mad. i’m far from it. i just want to know if it’s true. did he tell you everything? the night he won the title, i mean.” you asked. you remembered that night clearly. you didn’t finish the race, but that didn’t stop you from celebrating with sebastian.

“he would never lie about you, love. i told him to tell you, just to get it off his chest but he wouldn’t. you were with someone else, it was wrong.” mark explained. “you know the day you announced your engagement, he hated himself for not telling you sooner. maybe things would’ve ended differently if he had.”

maybe . .

“does he hate me?”

there was always that possibility. but when it came to sebastian, he would rather die than say he hates you.

“he could never hate you even if you did throw a show at him and call him a cunt.” mark chuckled. “he still loves you, you know, he asks about you all the time and i have no idea what to tell him.”

“well maybe i could tell him myself . . do you have his phone number?”

after you were given seb’s number, you noticed he never changed it. you weren’t sure why, but you decided to text him instead of calling.

y/n

hi seb, it’s y/n. i know it’s been so long and i’m sorry for how things ended. i hope you’re doing great. i’m not doing too good right now. my marriage is ending so i have that going for me. i’m staying with my sister and her family. anyways, i hope you don’t mind me messaging you. mark gave me your number but turns out i still have it saved. speaking of mark, i read his book on the flight, it’s very interesting. i’ll leave you alone now, thanks for caring about me all these years.

after you sent the message, you didn’t expect a reply. it was as if he was waiting for a message this whole time.

seb

hi y/n. i hope you know i never forgot about you after all this time. i’m sorry about your marriage, i really am. i don’t mind at all that you message me, i never changed my number in hopes that one day you would. as for mark’s book, i hope you’re not mad, but if you need to know, it’s all true and i wouldn’t change anything. being with you made me happy and everytime i hear your name, i’m reminded of the joyful memories we shared. i have something to tell you, only a few people know. i plan to retire at the end of the 2022 season. it would be nice if you would come to abu dhabi for my last race. i understand if you can’t make it. take care and i love you always. (it’s nothing new at this point)

@hc-dutch @lightdragonrayne @multiplefandomwritings @woozarts @jggykhug09090 @neivivenaj @kissesandmartinis @barnestatic @avythef1addict

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel smau #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sv5 #sebastian vettel fanfic