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tcfactory · 5 months

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Party Planning and Other Deadly Hazards I

5k words of Shang Qinghua bonding with Linguang-jun over being overworked and underappreciated

For the sake of this story, Mobei is roughly 15, Shang Qinghua and Linguang-jun are both 18. Shoutout to @mysteryteacup, whose analysis posts convinced me of the potential in "Linguang-jun is Very Young, Actually". Our Mobei-jun's birth name is Mobei Xuebao (Snow leopard), Shang Qinghua is Shang Cangshu (Hamster), Linguang-jun is Mobei Taifeng (Typhoon)

Also on AO3.

It all started with a small change. You see, Shang Qinghua's shizun made a reckless promise that whoever could push a medicine deal through with the Black Mire Sect - a minor sect skirting the edge of demonic practices by specializing in gu poisons - would take over as his new head disciple. The sect was situated right on the borderlands between the human realm and the northern demon kingdom and they were very reluctant to trade away any of their precious poisons, because they faced constant harassment from a lesser tribe of Snowtusk Boar demons just on the other side of the border. Clearly whoever could get them to agree to a deal would have to be a naturally gifted negotiator!

Usually Airplane ignores these kinds of risky assignments, but the temptation of skipping three years of backstabbing, social climbing and manual labor was too tempting. Besides, he knew how to solve this one. It was one of the wife plots in PIDW so Luo Binghe could marry the sect leader's beautiful daughter.

Step 1: Get rid of the boars. He could, of course, not do this on his own. No way. However, through the power of authorial knowledge, he could tip Mobei-jun off that the tribe stole one of the ancient artifacts of the Mobei clan after a chaotic battle and hid it away in their stronghold. His prince was a little skeptical, but Qinghua had not led him astray yet in the few months since he became his spy. The next time they met, Mobei-jun was generously splattered with pig demon blood and he was proudly holding a crystal necklace that could control all the ice sheets of the northern sea at once, apparently.

So that was that for the boars.

Step 2: Wait a little for the other local demon tribes to fight out who gets to settle in the newly vacated prime location. Shang Qinghua made a passing comment about how the Silkwing tribe could supply a 'generous benefactor' with the highest quality fabrics in the entire northern kingdom and would you look at that, this conflict got resolved much quicker than in PIDW.

Step 3: Introduce the sect leader and their new, much more agreeable, demon neighbors to each other. The Silkwing tribe happened to be a tribe of crane demons who, just like the Black Mire Sect, specialized in insect keeping. Their most prized specimens were the various demonic moths and spiders they cultivated for their silk, but they kept a wide variety of other critters as well. It was a match made in heaven! (Or rather in one of Master Airplane's caffeine fueled all-nighters, just so Binghe could meet a cute bisexual crane girl at the negotiations and turn the whole adventure into a two-brides-special wedding.)

Step 4: Profit! Trade agreement in hand Qinghua showed up at his shizun's house and received his much deserved promotion. The whole plan went off without a hitch, job well done, success and happiness all around! The next morning he moved into the head disciple's apartment and breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to live in fear of someone discovering his association with Mobei by barging into his bedroom without knocking.

If only that was the end of it.

-----

Shang Qinghua has barely settled into his new duties as head disciple when one morning Mobei-jun grabs him straight out of bed, before he could comprehend what's happening or put on some actual clothes, and drops him off somewhere in the Northern Palace.

"Baobao, what in the fresh hell did you bring me?!"

The outrage cry comes from a stressed looking demon youth who stares at Qinghua like someone handed him a dead rat instead of a report. He's obviously a Mobei relative, his black hair glossy with a blue-ish sheen and his demon mark a bright teal, but his hair is done up with feathers and beads in the style of the wind demon tribes.

"Qinghua. He's good at organizing." As if on second thought, Mobei-jun snarls at the other demon boy, showing all his teeth. "He's mine. If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

After that he wordlessly stomps away, leaving the equally confused human and demon behind.

Shang Qinghua wants nothing more than to ask a million questions right now - where is he? why did Mobei take him here?? who's the other guy??? - but now that he's more awake than asleep he's suddenly realizing that the room is extremely cold and he's only dressed in his sleeping robes. Are his toes turning blue?! His toes are probably turning blue.

"Here." A delicately carved box is shoved in his face, open and full of uniform black pills. "Aurora Pepper pills. I asked to borrow the domestic staff from Xiao Bao’s castle, but if you are the only help I get, I want you not to freeze to death."

"My lord, are they safe for humans?" They should be. It's one of the plot devices he made up so the Wives could visit the North and still wear their ridiculously skimpy outfits without dying, but who knows what an ice demon would have mixed into them. Shang Qinghua carefully picks just one and pops it in his mouth anyway.

"No idea, they were for my mother. You are a cultivator, are you not? You can survive a little poison."

If this demon is as young as he looks - as young as his outfit leads Qinghua to believe, which is somewhere between fourteen and twenty - then his core is not yet settled. Even if the ice demon parentage runs stronger in him - which is obvious, he's wearing the equivalent of summer robes for northern demonkin - he would have bouts when his core slants towards wind and he would find the cold of the north unbearable for a few days. So this is likely his own stash of pills he offered one from, which is awfully nice when one of your kin just dumps their human on you.

"This lowly one thanks the young master for his generosity!"

"Hmph. At least you have manners, unlike your master." The youth retreats behind a desk piled so high with scrolls and bamboo slats he’s barely visible behind them. "Qinghua, was it? This lord is Linguang-jun."

"Answering, this one is Shang Qinghua, head disciple of An Ding peak." He thanks his survival instinct that he manages to fold into a bow before his surprise shows on his face. Based on the nephew abandonment incident he always pictured Mobei's uncle as someone much older.

"An Ding? Good. Maybe you will be of use, after all." Linguang-jun gestures for Shang Qinghua to join him at the desk. "On account of his sudden spirited showing in regards to the Silkwings and the recovered artifact, my royal brother has finally taken interest in his third-born son. To welcome him to court he ordered a feast to be held, the success of which will determine Mobei San's standing in court and reflect on this lord’s qualifications as an organizer."

"Forgive this lowly one for the question, but why is the Mobei-jun's own brother in charge of such affairs? It should be the duty of the royal seneschal." Or perhaps the queen consort. Since he never had to write a wife plot with any member of the main Mobei clan he might have handwaved a lot of the court related worldbuilding. Still, he's certain there were at least three or four people who had to be unavailable before such a task would land on the desk of the king's brother.

"This lord is the seneschal," Linguang-jun says in a dejected voice. A pained frown slips past his not-yet-perfected mask of stoicism and Shang Qinghua realizes that 1. Linguang-jun is very, very young to be filling this position and 2. he’s probably one stroke of misfortune away from an anxious meltdown. This Qinghua can relate, kid. "My royal brother's temper has decimated his household and, in his paranoia, he refuses to replace the staff he kills. Ever since this one's mother passed three years ago, he has been tasked to fulfill every duty pertaining to household management, including those of the late queen consort."

After looking over a crumpled scroll detailing all of Linguang-jun's current duties, Shang Qinghua has a sudden understanding why the demon resents his brother so much. It’s not just the duties of the royal seneschal, he is doing the work of at least five different people, all of them near full-time jobs in their own right!

"Sorry kid, you are clearly too young for this shit." He didn't mean to say it out loud, but luckily for him the demon doesn't react to the irreverent tone beyond an agitated twitch of his eyebrows. "All right, let’s see what we have to work with."

It proves to be very little. Shang Qinghua looks over the list of the available staff (too short), the amount of food and other supplies Linguang-jun managed to drum up since his brother saddled him with this task last evening (not nearly enough to feed the obnoxiously long guest list) and the time available to them…

“He wants you to put together this party in three days?!” For someone who had only been a vague shadow with malicious intent in the back of Shang Qinghua’s mind whenever he thought about the dangerous demons he might run into while serving his prince, Linguang-jun is rapidly gaining a lot of his sympathy. “Can you even get all these guests here in three days? Jiuzhong-jun lives two months away even if he takes the fastest horses!”

For a royal prince’s introduction to court it was important to get as many of the bigshots present as possible, so they could all take a good look at him and decide if they wanted to try to sic their own spawns on him for a courting chase or not. Jiuzhong-jun doesn’t have any children yet, but he has plenty of nieces he could try to marry out into other clans. He would never miss the chance to come and gawk at the introduction of a Mobei prince.

“Mhm. Xiao Bao has that part covered. While we make this feast happen somehow, he’s going to spend the next two days transporting in all the guests with his portals.” Linguang-jun digs into one of his many piles of scrolls and shoves one detailing the scheduled arrivals into Shang Qinghua’s face. “At least the issue of housing them until the party solves itself on its own. Granny Oxbones is the reigning queen of the guest wing and she wouldn’t accept my input on where to put all these guests even if I bothered to offer any.”

Airplane carefully files it away in the back of his mind that when Linguang-jun gets stressed enough he still refers to his nephew with familiar nicknames as something to consider later, and tries to focus on the task at hand. So the current Mobei-jun hasn’t eradicated all of the old servants - the kitchen and housekeeping staff escaped his paranoia, as well as most of the guards and the hunters - only the ones in the highest positions. That should solve at least part of their problems.

“Okay, so we only have to handle decorating the feasting hall, source a fitting outfit for my prince and get the food ready.”

“What about the serving staff? I don’t have enough people to cater a party this big.”

“That’s easy, have the guardsmen fill in. Let them do something more than standing around and gawking. If there are complaints about the task being below them, tell them that they can take from the leftovers, most of the guests will be too busy brawling or scheming to eat anyway.” Demons love to eat, same as everybody, and even a bite or two of the delicacies served at their lords’ table should be ample temptation to get the guardsmen on board. “But this does mean that we need to make sure that the food is great. Does Linguang-jun have the menu from either of the elder princes’ introduction feasts? No reason to break our brains coming up with something new, nobody will care as long as the food is good enough.” It’s still an awful amount of work for three days, but it’s not undoable if he can tap into the Mobei clan’s supply network and doesn’t have to account for whatever happens to the guests before and after the feast.

“I think I have the menu for Mobei Er’s feast somewhere.” Linguang-jun abandons the desk to rifle through one of the filing cabinets dominating the walls of his study. “We will need to substitute some of the dishes, because that feast was in winter.”

“Still better than having to write the whole menu from scratch.”

“En.”

“Does Linguang-jun have any suggestion where to get my prince a suitable outfit?” For the lack of anything better to do, Shang Qinghua starts organizing the scrolls left on the desk. Linguang-jun’s handwriting is very similar to Mobei San’s, but nothing at all like the blocky characters of the current Mobei-jun. They probably learned from the same ice fairy tutor, which further confirms how absurdly close they are in age.

“I have something arranged with the Silkwings,” Linguang-jun calls back over his shoulder, halfway disappearing into the cabinet as he digs among the stored scrolls. “But - Hah! Found it! - Qinghua has to be the one to convince Mobei San to go. He won’t go anywhere if this uncle tells him to.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t just gape at me,” Linguang-jun says, smacking him reasonably lightly over the shoulder with the scroll until he gets the hint and takes it. “Take this down to the kitchen, then tell your master that if he doesn’t want to go to his own feast wearing my old robes, then he should go visit the Silkwings, the sooner the better.”

Shang Qinghua pales at the idea of wandering the main Northern Fortress alone. “I- this servant worries that the kitchen staff will not heed his words…”

Linguang-jun seems to consider this for a moment, but he finally comes to the conclusion that his life is easier if his nephew’s pet cultivator doesn’t come to harm. He digs around in his desk until he produces a bone hairstick with a bead and a feather dangling from it. “If you wear this, the staff will know that you are working for this lord. Ask a maid for directions and be quick about it!”

True to Linguang-jun’s words, the staff is nothing if not cooperative once they realize that Shang Qinghua is working directly with him to stop the upcoming party from crashing and burning. The demon aunties and uncles running the kitchen fill him in, between tallying all the ingredients they are going to need for the feast and plying him with sweet treats, that the staff has been in a panic ever since the first orders about the feast came in. There is the grim threat of death hanging over their heads if the end result isn’t impressive enough and Mobei-jun feels humiliated by their showing. Apparently this is going to be the first bigger event Linguang-jun is organizing on his own, without the help of his late mother, and his staff is worried about sabotage.

“Does Linguang-jun have many enemies in court?” Shang Qinghua asks, lifting a tiny demon granny up so she can take stock of one of the too tall ingredient shelves.

“He has one and it’s more than enough! Mobei-jun never got over it that his late queen mother birthed one more son after the acceptable period for fratricide was over.” Airplane was proud of that world building detail. Obviously no demon lord wants to have any relative who might challenge his claim, but eradicating the entire extended family is a very fast way for a clan to die out. So, following a leader’s grab of power, there’s a socially acceptable five years when they can murder any relative they can catch, but once that’s over they are expected to limit themselves to those who challenge their position. “I tell you, daozhang, it’s not a coincidence the feast is happening when the hunters are away and we are low on supplies! And what is the king doing instead of procuring a beast for the fighting showcase of his son? Drinking and lazing around in his quarters, that’s what! Poor Xiao Bao, such a sweet snowflake, this old granny worries that his entry to court will be ruined!”

-----

Shang Qinghua is still turning that around in his head when he goes to find Mobei Xuebao later - It took almost no effort to get the grannies to reveal his prince’s birth name. Such a cute name for such a fierce demon! Airplane jokingly wrote it on the margin of his drafts, but he never expected the System to take it and run with it - carrying a big mug of fortifying ice slushie.

His prince looks beyond exhausted after opening portals all over the demon realm since morning and he accepts the refreshing drink without so much as a growl. He does, however, hiss angrily at Qinghua when he recognizes the hairstick stuck into his bun. “How dare he claim you?! You are mine !”

“Ah, my prince, please be calm! It’s only a token so the staff won’t eat me. I am to return it once we are done here.” Qinghua is actually not sure about that, but better not aggravate his prince when he’s in a possessive mood.

“You’d better.” He stops trying to rip it out of Qinghua’s hair, but he still stares at it angrily while Shang Qinghua rattles off the details of the arrangement made with the Silkwings. Mobei shows no enthusiasm for getting new court robes tailored, but at Qinghua’s insistent nagging he makes an affirmative sound that yes, he is going to go, now stop asking .Airplane is not perfectly sure what the kitchen aunties put in the slushie, but Mobei’s mood almost thaws by the time he eats the last of the sweet berries they added to it. A wonderful good mood that lasts for all of five minutes before Linguang-jun turns the corner and yells at both of them.

“What are you still doing here?! Don’t you have things to do other than standing around?” Linguang-jun is flushed a pale pink from exertion and possibly frustration. He’s dressed for a hunt, carrying a Japanese style longbow almost as tall as him and a quiver of elegant, black-feathered arrows. It’s fascinating to see how Airplane’s throwaway details got implemented into the world - he made a passing note that Mobei’s grandmother was an eastern wind demon, then he made one of Binghe’s wives a wind demoness based on a Japanese princess and bird motifs and poof! The world combined these two details into multicultural Linguang-jun. He has to bite his tongue before he could ask Linguang-jun if he had a katana somewhere.

Mobei is clearly not happy to see that his uncle is gearing up to leave.

“Good time for a hunt, uncle,” he sneers. Linguang-jun sneers right back.

“ I am going out to fetch our hunting expeditions back so we have meat to serve at the feast. Someone has to, unless Baobao would prefer to play pretend with snow and ice and berries!” They both flinch, which is interesting. Clearly that’s a reference to a formerly fond memory. When Linguang-jun continues he’s not meeting their eyes and looks just a little sheepish. “Go get your rags, nephew. My reputation rides on the success of this feast. I’m not going to sabotage it.”

It’s hard to tell what Mobei Xuebao is thinking, but his expression seems a lot less murderous than a minute ago. “Take Qinghua with you,” he says, ignoring completely the way his cultivator freezes up. “He has a sword. He can fly high and scout for you.”

What is this? It almost sounds like an olive branch! If only it wasn’t poor Airplane being handed over like a cheap token of reconciliation, it would be great .

Linguang-jun gives Shang Qinghua a hesitant look, but Mobei chose a good way to sell his pet cultivator: Linguang-jun might be part wind demon, but even he can’t fly very high. Give Qinghua one more of those pepper pills so he doesn’t freeze in the icy wasteland and he can track their hunters down in a snap!

Before he can mount an argument about the general fragility of humans and the dangers of the desert, he is grabbed by the arm and the next thing he knows, he’s being swept up by Linguang-jun’s black wind. Nothing can compete with Mobei’s portal powers in terms of speed, but this is not too shabby either, and unlike the shadow portals, being turned into wind doesn’t make him sick. Perhaps because he doesn’t currently have a stomach to feel sick.

While they dash through the desert, Linguang-jun quickly fills Qinghua in: they need to recall three hunting parties, all of them within a day’s travel by horse from the castle. “There are others out hunting, but they are too far to make it back for the feast. And after we are done, I’m going to leave you somewhere out of the way and catch a Diamond-Clawed Tundra Devil.”

“Ah. For the fight showcase?”

“En.”

“Isn’t it the king’s duty to procure whatever his son is to fight?” His question is met by minutes of sullen silence so he startles when Linguang-jun finally deigns to speak again.

“There’s a wolf-bear-hybrid prepared at the palace. Da-ge wanted to give it to one of his concubines as a pet, but the lady has much better taste than to take a mangy mutt like that.” Qingua can’t see Linguang-jun’s expression, but the derision is obvious in his voice. It’s unclear if it’s directed at the concubine or his brother. “It would be acceptable prey for a less skilled prince, but Xiao Bao deserves better.”

“Huh. You really adore your nephew, don’t you? I figured he was wrong about you.” If he lives to tell the tale, Shang Qinghua is going to blame his current immaterial state for the failure of his brain-mouth filter. Never startle the person carrying you at high speeds!

He’s not even surprised when he tumbles painfully onto the snow, Linguang-jun standing above him with a murderous expression, the bow raised as if he’s ready to beat the hapless cultivator with it. “Does he still go around telling everyone about- even his pet cultivator?!”

“No! No, my lord!” He suspects it’s only because Mobei San doesn’t consider Qinghua important enough to fill him in about his backstory, but it’s technically true. “Servants gossip! I heard it from the servants in Mobei San’s castle!”

Linguang-jun lowers the bow, but his face colors with either indignation or embarrassment. He’s more expressive than Mobei, but it’s still not easy to read him. “Good. Do not ever dare to gossip about this lord! Understood, you, you…” He looks at Shang Qinghua sitting in the snow like a plump, bruised peach, face almost disappearing into the soft pelt the kitchen aunties dressed him up in. “You hamster!”

Airplane can’t help himself: he laughs. Then, when the laughter finally feels like subsiding, he notices the baffled face Linguang-jun is making and laughs some more. “Forgive me, my lord. I am not laughing at you. Except. My name does happen to be Shang Cangshu.”

The absurdity of it all finally douses Linguang-jun’s rage and the demon huffs a laugh. “Of course it is. Should I get a bowl of sunflower seeds for you tomorrow, hamster-daozhang?”

“I prefer melon seeds! But worry not, my lord, I can bring my own.” It must be a good sign that Linguang-jun is teasing him. A little bit of harmless farce is always good in anxiety-inducing situations, and the demon appeared to be on the verge of exploding all day. “I do have to wonder, though… I heard that when that incident happened, Mobei San was around four? So you must have been a rather young child yourself.”

Linguang-jun gives a tense, awkward nod and a scene starts to unfold in Airplane’s mind. This is not something he had written, but it is something he could have, if he ever tried to put Mobei-jun in the limelight for a while. Emboldened, he continues: “Traveling at the speed of wind as you do must not leave a lot of room to change course if, say, a tear to the human realm suddenly opens up in front of you. It must have been a terrifying experience, for both of you. Easy to lose track of each other in an unfamiliar world, hostile territory or not.”

Linguang-jun turns his head away, clearly trying to school his expression into a blank mask, but he is too worn down and anxious to manage it. He looks disarmingly young like this; just a teen with too much work on his plate. “He refuses to so much as speak to me unless he has no other choice. What does it matter how it happened? I admitted to trying to kill him.”

Of course he did. For Mobei San to survive an assassination attempt - a smart one too, leaving him in the heart of a cultivator sect that has a longstanding feud with the Mobei clan - was a testament to his talent even at such a young age. If Linguang-jun admitted that it was an accident, it would have only painted him as incompetent, which was the fastest way to political suicide even before he could officially get into court. “Ah, but he lent you this servant, hasn’t he? I think my prince doesn’t hate you as much as he wants to.”

“Hah! That will not save my neck when my nephew becomes Mobei-jun and comes to eradicate the threats from the family.”

“No! He would not kill you, I’m certain of it.” As he wrote it, Mobei-jun at the time of his ascension was secure under Luo Binghe’s wing and didn’t bother to go after any of his relatives - unless they attacked first, that is. “Leave it to this Qinghua, I will smooth this misunderstanding over in no time!”

The look of doubt Linguang-jun gives him almost hurts. “Wait until after the feast before you try. I’m short enough on staff without you getting yourself killed.” The demon makes a sharp gesture with his hand and a burst of wind pushes Shang Qinghua to his feet. “Up you get, hamster-daozhang. We have work to do.”

It all falls in place like a well-oiled machine after that, even the hunt. Turns out that Diamond-Clawed Tundra Devils are really fascinated by flying cultivators for some reason. The beast stands on its hindlegs, reaching fruitlessly for the flying sword, and doesn’t even notice Linguang-jun sneaking up on it until he traps it in a qiankun box. They work well together, Shang Qinghua and Linguang-jun, and the demon stays cordial - almost friendly, even! - to his nephew’s pet cultivator in the following two days.

-----

“I’m so glad that it went well, my prince!” Qinghua sighs a few days after the feast. He’s trying to subtly rescue some of his paperwork from Mobei, who decided that he wants to have this conversation while sitting on his human’s desk. “I wish I could have been there to see, but my shizun would have noticed if I was missing any longer and, let’s be honest, the chances of someone mistaking me for a side-dish were much too high…”

Mobei hums something vaguely positive, then very indulgently lifts one of his hands so Qinghua can remove the papers from there. “Good work.”

“Thank you, my prince! But I really didn’t do much. Your uncle did most of the work.” By the end of the third day Linguang-jun was openly bemoaning that he wanted to go to bed and sleep for a century. Airplane can only hope he got some rest since.

Mobei Xuebao growls at him in warning, clearly not happy with the direction of the conversation, but Qinghua has dealt with so much shit in the last week that he’s too tired to be properly intimidated by empty threats. “No, really! I know he had a horse in this race, but he really wanted you to have a cool ‘welcome to demon court’ party. He caught the Tundra Devil for your fight and he certainly didn’t have to do that!”

“That was Taifeng-shushu?” There’s no better way to describe Mobei’s expression of surprise than ‘cute’. It’s a good reminder that despite his frosty disposition and already powerful physique, Mobei Xuebao is also still a teenager. (Airplane is not geeking out over learning Linguang-jun’s name, he is not . Mobei Taifeng was on his list of potential names when he brainstormed for Luo Binghe’s right hand man, before he even started writing - a character who eventually got split into Mobei-jun and the OG Shang Qinghua, because Tired™ second-in-commands who try to betray their employers so they could have one good day of rest please were more of a comedic relief trope and that didn’t fit the tone of the story.)

“Yes, my prince. This servant was there when Linguang-jun chose and captured the most impressive beast from the pack.” He was so picky about it too! He made Qinghua fly over the Tundra Devil pack five times before he identified the biggest one and by that time the beast noticed the flying cultivator. That’s how they found out about its fascination with the shiny spiritual sword.

Thinking about Linguang-jun reminds Qinghua of the hairstick he conveniently ‘forgot’ to return. He puts it in a plain box and pushes it to Mobei Xuebao. “My prince, I had no chance to return this to Linguang-jun, so you would do this servant a great favor if you passed it along.” Mobei makes a soft noise as he pockets the box, looking almost smug that Qinghua is, indeed, returning the token. His good mood makes the human a little reckless about how far he’s willing to push this matter. “My prince, I know you have no reason to trust this servant on matters of your family, but I have heard many rumors and hearsay while in the Northern Palace. I think there might be a misunderstanding between you and your uncle, so if you could talk to him openly when you return the hairstick-”

“Qinghua has not led me astray so far,” Mobei interrupts, his eyes narrowed. “This prince will talk to his uncle. But if Qinghua is mistaken…” He lets the sentence hang ominously in the air, but the sentiment is clear: if Shang Qinghua is wrong, then all of his credibility is ash.

“I understand, my prince.”

It's going to be fine. It has to be! Otherwise the System would have interfered, like it always does when he's about to alter the plot.

Right, System?

#svsss #linguang-jun #mobei-jun #shang qinghua #making up world building like master Airplane intended #tc writes #fun fact: I had to fight the autocorrect every step of the way bc it wanted to 'correct' hairstick into hair tick #not remotely the same thing #please don't #I already have a follow-up for this in the works btw #to the tune of #how do you fix a sick ice demon so your other ice demon doesn't freak out and break your neck? without your shixiongs finding out?#the answer is you don't #nothing gets past Mu-shixiong #so you just grin and bear it and sigh to the heavens when it turns into a wife plot #because of course it does #anyway please go check mysteryteacup out their writing and meta are chef kiss #thousand times better than anything I do honestly

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glindyupland · 25 days

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I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

#Wish #Queen Amaya #I assume I'm going to get hate for this but like #I know it's not store bought and you have to still make it yourself but also #I'm kind of just tired of seeing a lot of people sh*tting on Wish because it's not the concept art #And I'm kind of over here like how about we love it recognize it has flaws and THEN try to make something new without bashing the OG?#I just love Amaya and she definitely deserves more #but her good character is so interesting and complex #she still knows how to have fun. She still can be sassy or bite.#Like she's still Magnifico's perfect partner you know? and Magnifico isn't perfect?#A truly pure person wouldn't click with Magnifico the way Amaya does...?#I would rather build on Amaya's character than say she can only be good and boring or a villain?#Amaya is so smart yall. I know you can't see it all just on the movie but like she's read every magic book in Magnifico's library #THOUSANDS OF BOOKS.#And knows basic protection spells #She's a devoted leader.#Like.#Idk #She both loves her husband and recognizes that she has to go against him.#She doesn't /turn/ on him. She addresses his flaws and tells him that it's not okay?#She still jokes with him even though she has to put him in time out. She's complex and strong and wise and kind.#And I just hate seeing so many people so quick to just say 'the concept art was better' when like... the idea might be more appealing to yo #But I hate the level of cynicism and pretentiousness I see of people saying their personal ideas of what Wish should be-#-Is better than the piece of media they claim to care about?#Like their personal vision of Wish based exclusively off the concept art is somehow intellectually superior?#And I'm not saying stop doing your rewrites or AU's or anything! Like there's definitely beautiful creativity happening!#I just hate seeing people so negative and like honestly mean. It hurts my heart to see everyone calling Wish garbage?#It's not great but I really really dont think it's as bad as everyone is saying. Like its no like Oppenheimer but it's a children's movie..#Like I personally love the Teens and Amaya #And everyone saying they stink makes me sad... Because they're just great characters?

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osaemu · 5 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

6K notes · View notes

eternally-racing · 3 months

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kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader

genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - -

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

1K notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 6 months

Text

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight.

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed. “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively.

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer.

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already.

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim.

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out.

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house.

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe.

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.”

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated. Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people.

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still.

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…”

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top.

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.”

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp.

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted.

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

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violetrainbow412-blog · 4 months

Text

Tangled Dreams [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

[Timothée masterlist]

note: I decided to combine these two because they are quite similar! I hope the ending doesn't seem rushed, I really appreciate your patience and please tell me if you liked it.

Special greetings to @kpopgirlbtssvt and @broadwaybaby123 ily pretty!

As you fell towards an unknown place through a stone tunnel, you thought that there were two things you wished you had done the day before: check the hole in your bag to avoid losing all your money and have read the small print of the contract you had signed.

If you had done both, you would have avoided ending up in the mess you were in, with the seemingly kind woman who had greeted you telling you that you owed more than ten thousand sovereigns for charges you weren't even aware of. She had said that you would work for a sovereign a day, however, she hadn’t said what that job would be and before you could ask, Bleacher had already pushed you through the hole in the wall.

You hit yourself when you fell on a wagon full of white fabrics and quickly got up to understand where you had arrived. There were fumes, water, and everything smelled like detergent, so you knew it was the laundry room, but the place was desolate.

Would you have to do everything alone? How was it possible? Suddenly you felt very scared thinking about how long you would have to be there to pay off your debt. You had left your home to look for better employment opportunities so that you could develop all your artistic skills, since living in a small town it was almost impossible to practice with your brush. You were supposed to meet other artists, learn from them, buy new materials... you didn't have to end up where you had.

As the minutes passed and you had more time to think about things, the situation was getting worse. You had no one in the city who could help you, you were completely alone, without money, with debts, without food... between all of this you felt your breathing starting to accelerate and you knew you were about to experience a nervous breakdown.

That happened when you were in high-stress situations and, honestly, you hated it. Your heart began to beat like crazy with no way to stop it, you felt like you were sweating and everything around you seemed to start to suffocate you. So when you felt a couple of tears forming in your eyes, you thought that you just wanted to disappear into the wagon full of sheets where you were.

The shock didn't let you think properly and that's why you couldn't even hear the voices coming from the other room, which suddenly turned into the presence of a group of unfortunate workers.

"Oh, hello?" muttered an older man with glasses. He was accompanied by a woman dressed in blue work overalls, another lady, and a curly with a flashy suit “New here?”

Even though she seemed kind, you couldn't take the words that way. You were scared and soon everyone realized that.

“Girl, are you okay?” the woman with overalls was quick to say, with the same kindness as the man, and after that everyone approached your direction.

You wanted to talk, but you couldn't, and apparently the proximity of the group only made you more nervous. While you were trying to contain your sobs they were looking for ways to calm you down, to no avail.

After a few seconds another couple of people appeared in the place and from the corner of your eye you could observe them: she was a pretty little girl and next to her was a young man wearing a coat and hat. He noticed right away that something wasn't right and he walked in your direction to find out.

“Well, hi,” he greeted you. Everyone looked at each other with a combination of pity and concern, as if you were a helpless kitten in a box “How about we give her some space? She looks scared”

The group did as he told them and then the only one left near you was that man. He didn't say anything for a moment, as if analyzing your behavior, and then he leaned slightly against the box to watch you.

“I'm Noodle,” the girl murmured now, still keeping her distance from you. “What's your name?”

“Y/N” you managed to say. You were still looking into the green eyes that were also watching you carefully.

“It's a pretty name,” he complimented. You were still struggling to breathe a little when he held out his hand to you. “Do you want me to help you out of there, Y/N? So we can talk. We are all here to help you, don't be afraid”

Willy misjudged your appearance and thought that you were quite young, even though you were the same age, which is why he allowed himself to speak to you so cautiously.

You carefully took the hand he was offering you and then the man helped you out of the wagon, practically carrying you outside. Once you were outside his arm carefully wrapped around you and guided you to a couple of chairs, where you sat down and he sat down too.

“Breathe,” the boy urged you, realizing that you were still sobbing a little. He wasn't touching you anymore, but he was watching you carefully “Can you get some water, Piper?”

You realized that the first woman who had spoken to you was named Piper, and while you were working on regulating your breathing she disappeared down the hallway. The boy whispered soft instructions: inhale, exhale, and with that you managed to calm down until she returned with the glass he had ordered for you.

"Here you have"

You took it and drank slowly, being careful not to choke, until you felt better. You were suddenly aware of everyone's expectant gaze and you shrank in on yourself with some pity.

“I'm sorry for all this,” you murmured, now that you were more composed. “It's just that when I fell here, everything was alone and I felt very… scared.”

“That's how we all felt the first time,” said the older man, to reassure you. “I'm Abacus Crunch.”

“Y/N,” you repeated, even though everyone had heard it the first time.

“This is Piper, Lottie, and Larry,” the boy next to you murmured, smiling gently at you. “And my name is Willy Wonka.”

That last one was the one that settled in your mind the most. Willy Wonka.

“How did you end up here?” Lottie asked kindly.

Everyone listened to your story carefully, now that you had managed to calm down, and a couple of sympathetic grimaces appeared on the faces of your new companions as you spoke. They told you, in broad strokes, their own reasons for ending up there and it turned out that these weren’t very different from yours.

“We were all fooled just by not reading the small print,” Larry said bitterly, even though he was supposed to be a comedian.

“For now we will just assign you a room and… you can rest, okay?” the little girl named Noodle murmured, trying to be as friendly as possible.

“Mrs. Scrubitt told me that I would have to work here every day to pay off my debt, is that true?”

They all shared a knowing look, debating whether or not they should tell you about their recent escapades to sell chocolates, and then Willy made the decision for the rest.

“You don't have to worry about anything. We'll be out of here soon, all of us. Just sleep and tomorrow we will explain to you, okay?” he murmured gently.

There was something about his smile that calmed you greatly and you were grateful that there was someone like him in that place. They all seemed to be good people, actually, so at least that was one less thing to worry about.

Noodle took you to an empty room where you could settle in along with your few belongings and right or wrong, you thought that at least you had a roof over your head that night.

Once you slept for a few hours and when morning finally arrived, they took care of updating you on the activities they had been doing to settle all the debts that existed with the cruel woman who had deceived you.

“We move through the sewers and come back here before Scrubitt does the roll call, at night,” Abacus explained to you. He was something like the leader of the place, probably because of the years of experience he had “If you help us with sales, then you will enjoy the benefits too.”

“You mean I can leave here?” you wanted to corroborate. Willy nodded enthusiastically.

“You arrived at a fairly opportune time, the business seems quite prosperous and if we continue like this, we will be gone in… a month and a half, maybe two months,” he estimated. It all sounded pretty good and at least they had the decency to tell you, so they could include you in the plan “Are you in?”

You thought it was risky, but if it meant a chance to leave, of course you'd take it. After all, those people had been trapped for years, what assured you that you wouldn't have the same fate? As you saw things, actually agreeing to help them was your only option.

"Of course. Just tell me what to do, I'll learn quickly” you exclaimed and everyone was happy with your response. Especially Willy.

“I'll take care of it myself, take it for granted.”

You took the hand that the man was offering you, as if you wanted to formally close the deal, and then everyone rushed to get the things you needed for the day's sale ready. As you watched them go from here to there you thought that you would have to get used to that hustle and bustle, but somehow it comforted you to know that now you were no longer so alone.

“Thank you for helping me,” you exclaimed in the direction of the light-eyed boy, who had stayed next to you. “At this time and yesterday too. I was quite worried and I just… panicked”

“Oh, you don't have to thank me for anything” he smiled at you sincerely “I know how ugly it is to be scared, so if another day you feel like that just tell me. I am always happy to help”

For a man who had only known you a day, he turned out to be quite the gentleman around you. Or maybe it was just that he behaved that way naturally.

“All ready?” Piper spoke and you knew it was your cue to leave for wherever your destination was that day.

And of course, just like everyone else when Willy came into their lives, from that moment on your whole world turned completely upside down.

Becoming friends with Willy Wonka wasn’t a task that required much effort, so after a few weeks the two of you were practically inseparable. To this we had to add that when he discovered that you were the same age, his sympathy towards you only increased, to the point of turning into a clear interest in you, although not in the way that most would expect.

Maybe he was rushing, but he had started to like you in a… romantic way? Maybe. He didn't know much about what it was like to be in love, but he knew that he had begun to feel something different in his chest for you. After all, you saw each other every day, at all hours, so it had been inevitable to know a lot about you.

You had talked to him about your life before arriving in the city, living in a modest village, about your dreams and the skills you hoped to improve with time and practice. Willy, in turn, had told you about his mother, the story of him making chocolates, the aspirations and desires he had to become the owner of a shop in the gourmet galleries... in short, everything that was truly important. Sometimes you spent entire hours, when you weren't working outside, talking and so you already knew a lot about each other by that point in your story.

That was why when, after a few weeks, your sleep was interrupted by a nightmare, the first thing you thought was to run and seek comfort in the arms of your friend. It was no secret that Scrubitt had been being particularly harsh with everyone there and although most of them were already used to it, you and Willy were the ones who suffered the most from those verbal attacks. She was quite trained in the art of being mean.

So maybe it was that he yelled at you a little worse that day, or it was just that you were too sensitive because the police almost caught you when you went out on the streets to sell the chocolates, but either way your mind had taken care of shaping everything that happened to create that bad dream.

When you knocked on his door you feared the thought of bothering him with your presence, however, it was too late to chicken out because almost immediately he had already peeked out of the room.

“Y/N?” he asked, slightly confused. From the lucidity with which he spoke you knew that he probably hadn't even been sleeping “What's wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” you explained “Can I stay with you for a while?”

It didn't take Willy more than half a second to move to the side so that you could go inside and once you were there he invited you to sit on the deteriorated bed, where he also took a seat. The next thing he did was stretch his hand open on the mattress, offering you the option to take it if you needed it. You did it, partly to feel something to anchor you to reality and partly because you loved the feeling of his warm skin against yours.

“Do you want to talk about what you dreamed?” he asked softly.

“It wasn't anything too terrible, but it's just… Aren't you going to laugh?”

"Of course not. I would never do it,” Willy assured you, moving a little closer to you as if he wanted to keep the matter confidential. “What is it about?”

“It's just… I don't know, it was a strange dream. I dreamed that things were getting complicated with this whole business of selling chocolates and that's why I stayed here for years like Abacus or Piper. I mean, I really appreciate that you're trying to help us all and I know I'm the one who's been here the least and maybe I can't even complain, but… I've been afraid of something bad happening since I got here. And I dreamed that the chocolate cartel was hurting you, that's why I got very scared and I..."

“Hey, hey,” Willy murmured as he extended one of his arms to you, when he saw that you were about to burst into tears.

He hated seeing people cry, perhaps because of his compassionate and kind nature, but he hated seeing you cry, especially you. The first time you guys met he didn't want to be too invasive in terms of personal space because he didn't know how you were going to react, or he didn't even know if a hug would help you calm down. But now that you knew each other better he had also learned a few things about you, so he felt confident in holding you down if you were feeling bad. Like right now.

“I'm sorry, it's just that with what happened today with the police I feared the worst. It's not that I just love you because you're going to help us get out of here, it's that I really appreciate you and I don't want anything bad to happen to yo... to all of us, I mean”

Willy smiled moved at your concern and let go of the hand he was holding yours to hug you properly, without you objecting at all.

“But nothing bad is going to happen, dear. It was just a bad dream”

He calling you that pet name warmed your face, so you just let yourself be sheltered by his kind arms and nodded against his chest, a little less worried now that you had spoken it out loud. You stayed in that position for a few minutes, with you listening to the constant beat of his heart and with him enjoying the pleasant weight of your body against his.

“Were you making chocolates?” you asked quietly, noticing the ingredients spread across the table in his room. He loosened his grip on him slightly so you could get a better look.

"Yeah! Do you want some? Maybe that will make you feel better. Chocolate always makes me feel better” he smiled.

When Willy saw you nodding he rushed over to grab a couple of the treats and then shoved them into your hands, hoping you could enjoy them as much as he did. He was definitely right when he said that chocolate would make you feel better.

“Do these have nuts?” you asked, feeling the crunchy bits between your teeth.

"Yeah"

“I love nuts” you confessed. You had already told him before and he had made sure not to forget it, so a little smile crossed his face when he saw that the candy was to your liking. “Thank you for the chocolates. And thanks for listening to me, I… I definitely feel better”

“I'm glad to hear that”

“You're so sweet, Willy. I'm serious"

“It's no wonder. You deserve all the sweetness in the world.”

Your gaze fell on him immediately and you gave him a couple of seconds in case he wanted to take back those words. However, he didn't do it.

“Well, it's nice that you think that. Not many people are nice these days.”

“Like Scrubitt, for example?” he joked and you laughed.

“At first I felt very angry, you know? But at least now I'm happy to know that despite all this bad situation, I was able to meet someone like you."

Suddenly the urge to tell you what he felt appeared in his chest and he was honestly surprised by the impulsiveness of his thinking. There hadn't even been anything that triggered that desire, it was just his brain together with his heart that were asking him to say that out loud.

Were you going to be scared? He hoped not. Maybe he should just refer to his feelings in the hopes that you'll put the missing pieces together, or maybe he should just stay silent, or maybe...

“I have never met someone like you. You are very special to me"

You couldn't help the shy smile on your mouth and Willy settled for the excited gleam in your eyes.

“Ow, are you serious?”

"Yeah. And I think I like you a lot.”

You assumed, like everything he did, that this was just another courtesy on his part and so you responded as kindly and friendly as you could.

“I like you too, Willy.”

“And I think you're very pretty. In every way” he continued.

You didn't know if he was trying to flirt with you or if he was just being nice, so you just laughed with flushed cheeks and shoved another chocolate into your mouth to try to calm your nerves. You wanted to tell him that he was handsome to you too, but instead you murmured:

"Are not you sleepy? I can leave if that's the case, I didn't even think about…”

“No, you can stay,” he said quickly. He really seemed to want you there with him “Did I say something wrong?”

Of course he hadn't said anything wrong, how could he?

"No. I just thought you were tired and I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. “And I appreciate that you think I’m pretty”

The way he was looking at you and the question he had just asked you made you think that maybe what he had told you about liking you was something like he really liked you. In the romantic, cheesy way you swore wasn't possible.

“I like that you are here, but I don't want to keep you if you are tired.”

“No, no” now you said. You were acting so awkwardly that your brain was screaming at you to do something to fix it, but your thoughts were interrupted by his eyes landing on your lips “What?”

There was something different in the atmosphere that had settled in from one moment to the next and could be felt with the fingers on your hand.

“Can I confess something to you?” he asked in a whisper. “And you promise not to be scared?”

“That depends,” you said nervously. Those kinds of secrets could range from the illegal to the wildly strange.

Luckily, what he longed to tell you was nothing on that spectrum.

“I think I like you a lot,” he repeated. But this time you understood perfectly what he meant.

You were burning with shame at the direction the conversation had taken and you looked at your friend with fear, not knowing how to respond to his confession. You knew you reciprocated those feelings, but you didn't feel the courage to say it. Fortunately you did have the courage to lean towards him and press your lips against his, because of course, from your strange logic that would be less embarrassing.

Now it was Willy who blushed noticeably and using the same reasoning as you, decided to mask his nerves by kissing you back again. Although he didn't say it explicitly, it was notable that he had never kissed any woman and the thought of it being his first kiss made you feel touched. He tasted like chocolate and inexperience, but he was perfect.

“I like you too,” you admitted between his lips, just as if you wanted to make it clear to him that the feeling was mutual and that he shouldn't have any fear about it.

While you were kissing him, your mind kept thinking that all that had happened thanks to one of your nightmares and, for the first time in your life, you felt grateful for that bad dream.

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos @silverchainbee @amethyistheart @shadowygladiatorlight @lavendarhearts @lou-multifandoms

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months

Note

Idk if Sex doll!au Alhaitham has been discussed yet…(honestly it probably has been, but it was likely during the times when I wasn’t keeping up to date with this blog. Tumblr’s shitty search function doesn’t help with finding out either.)

Anyway, I’d like to share my thoughts about it, if that’s okay.

-I think sex doll! Alhaitham would mostly be for professional and academic purposes. He’s not reccomended for younger grades, mostly just colleges.

-His general purposes are office/administrative related. Especially since he’s a “scribe”, he’s especially good at file management and documentation. I don’t think it be uncommon to see him assisting librarians alongside a Lisa model…or maybe helping archeologists/museums workers catalogue info about artifacts.

-I think his way of not doing anything more than what his job asks of him would stay even as an Android. I know that as a product, he’d probably wouldn’t be given leeway or time off like that; but the thought of someone trying to assign tasks to Alhaitham that are outside his designated role being ignored by him is funny to me.

-if Alhaitham is acting as a companion doll in someone’s home, I can only imagine that he’s incredibly annoying. Alhaitham normally chooses to ignore social etiquette, and as an android it has to be even worse.

tw - unhealthy relationships, slight infantilization, slight stalking.

i think he'd absolutely be marketed toward researchers as a sort of lab assistant who acts like you're the lab assistant, if that makes sense. he specializes in archival work and bureaucracy, but he's a bit of a jack-of-all-trades and it's not uncommon to see him alongside more outdoorsy androids like cyno and albedo when you're out doing fieldwork. he's also especially loved by students for his,,, strict attitude toward studying. you wouldn't think the ability to say 'i'm not touching your dick until you finish your thesis' would be such a popular feature in a literal sex doll, but, y'know, what does it for you does it for you, i guess.

you're not a student, though, or a researcher - just a librarian for a big enough branch to warrant writing off a helper android as a business expense. you probably could've gotten away with bringing on lisa or nahida, but you were able to find a second-hand alhaitham for a price you couldn't turn up and figured dealing with the occasional comment on your organization skills or catalog maintenance was better than wasting an extra thousand dollars on a robot that'll be reading to children twice a week. he works well enough, too, even if it does take a few days for him to get used to the idea that you won't be using him for his, uh, intended purposes. it just doesn't feel right, considering he's basically one of your employees - something he's surprisingly indifferent about, considering how judgemental he's rumored to be about, well, everything.

you do take him home at night, though, since the alternative is leaving him in a dark building alone all night and trying to live with the guilt. he's a polite enough houseguest, even if does occasionally let out a disapproving huff at your admittedly less-than-steller diet, but he does have a few... bugs, you guess, for lack of something better to call his little lapses in decorum. he's overstepped his boundaries a few times - taking pens and reports out of your hands because you 'have a tendency to mess these things up', checking on you in the middle of the night when he's supposed to be charging - but he'll never indulge your attempts to confront him, just clicking his tongue and shaking his eyes. sometimes, he brings up your stress levels, mentions off-handedly that orgasms are known to reduce overall tension, but denies that he's done anything wrong when you ask him to change his behavior. he's good at that - justifying himself, bending his protocols until he can get away with practically anything. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little worried, knowing the awful rumors that spread about second-hand andriods, about how demeaning alhaitham can be when he's supposed to be little more than a platonic assistant.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little worried that, one day, he'd find a way to justify disregarding your autonomy altogether.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere alhaitham #yandere genshin impact

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theemporium · 5 months

Text

here's the second instalment! i know i made the poll but i decided i was doing both options because i am indecisive, and i love max and trouble too much to abandon them

series masterlist

Max tapped his foot against the wooden floor, his eyes focused on some random poster on the wall of the cramped dental office.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like any of this. He didn’t like the idea that he was going to be put under. He didn’t like he wouldn’t be in control of anything for the next few hours. He didn’t like the fact that when he woke up, he would be woozy and unable to control the words that passed his lips.

He didn’t like the lack of control.

But the pain had reached a point of unbearable and he knew if he didn’t get this done, his mother would fly over and drag him into the dental practice by his ear—and that was something he certainly didn’t want. He would never live it down if journalists caught pictures of the three time world champion being berated by his mother like a whiny child.

He hated the fact his stupid wisdom teeth were causing this many problems in the first place.

“Did you know that thirty-five percent of humans are born without wisdom teeth?”

Max’s head turned to look at you, his brows furrowed together. “What?”

“A third of the human population aren’t born with wisdom teeth,” you repeated as you leaned back in your chair next to him, your knees brushing when you did. “Isn’t that weird?”

“I would say they are lucky,” he grumbled honestly.

“And in Korea, they call them love teeth,” you continued, ignoring the confused look Max shot you. “Because they start to come through around the age people typically experience their first love.”

“Does that mean it’s your fault I’m in pain?” Max teased, a hint of a smile on his face for the first time since he woke up that morning.

“Love is pain, baby,” you grinned back at him. “And did you know that the oldest record of wisdom teeth being impacted goes back almost fifteen thousand years ago—”

“What’s with all these fun facts?” Max questioned.

“It’s what keeps you calm, no?” You said, looking at him with a fond expression he was still learning to not instantly blush over. “You maxsplain all the time and it helps you relax. I thought maybe maxsplaining wisdom teeth would help ease your nerves.”

“So you learn a load of facts for me?” He asked, a giddy smile fighting its way onto his face.

“I did,” you said as you reached over to gently squeeze his knee. “I know you’re not gonna say it but it’s okay to be nervous. I’ll be waiting for you.”

He gulped, nodding his head slightly in thanks and you knew better than anyone else that the nod was his own way of thanking you.

…

“Trouble? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, baby,” you grinned as you reached for his outstretched hand, trying not to snicker at the way he cuddled your palm to his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“They drugged me,” he mumbled out, his eyes blinking slowly as he ignored the dentist and nurses in the room and kept his focus on you. “Not the good drugs. The bad ones. I think they are trying to kill me.”

You snorted. “Nobody is gonna kill you while I’m around. Promise.”

“My hero!” He laughed, a little short lived as he seemed to realise the gauze in his mouth. “Baby, I don’t like this candy.”

“It’s not candy,” you said to the boy and watched as he instantly frowned.

“I want candy,” he huffed out.

“Max—”

“Trouble, they tried to kill me! I’m a hostage!” He said, sounding exasperated and you had to lift your hand to cover your mouth in hopes he didn’t realise you were laughing. “I at least deserve some candy.”

“I’ll get you some on the way home,” you told the boy, unable to even pretend to act annoyed as he cheered in his seat as his head rolled back.

“See, Janet!” He turned to the nurse who was standing on the other side of his chair and winked with both eyes. “Told you my good looks would work. She gave in.”

Janet laughed, shaking her head. “You were right, sweetie. You’ve got quite the catch there.”

Max sighed dreamily. “She’s the best.”

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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heartmii · 7 months

Text

TOA 00

✮⋆˙apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: male reader but can be seen as gn, angst, mentions of blood.

✮⋆˙ this was honestly a fic idea i had for a while but since toa isn't really that popular, i figured it wouldn't do too well so instead here's a one-shot! Has been continued !

✮⋆˙ next

✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

"nonono.. beloved..." the god whispered as he dropped onto his knees beside your bloodied body. his hands trembling when he reached out to touch you.

your eyes were shut when he arrived at your spot. an opening deep in the forest behind his temple. after he'd set the sun and, his sister took her shift, he would then meet you here. here, where he learned of your body, and you learned his. here, where the whispers of intimacy stayed between two souls. here, where, apollo, the all-powerful god, submitted to a mortal and allowed his body to be used for love.

now, in the shadow of his love, was only grief. for as long as you love, grief will one day be in its place. a game of chance. it is said love is a fool's emotion as only a fool would jump into a game knowing the outcome would be a loss.

and perhaps, the god was the biggest fool of them all. loving a mortal promised nothing but loss, yet, when your eyes flickered open and connected with his, a fool was what he became once again.

his heart thumped against his chest. grief soon turned into hope. although your eyes were weak, and your skin was paling. you were alive. breathing. death had not claimed you, there was a chance you could live — a chance he could save you.

"apollo." even on your deathbed, his name would roll off your tongue like honey. he was worshipped, and his name was said many times a day by mortals wishing for his blessings or his wisdom.

but, your call for him was different. when you called for him it wasn't for him as a god, there was no expectation behind your words, no secret goal. if you did expect anything, if there was a goal, it was nothing more than simply just the presence of apollo. you would say his name gently as if you didn't want to scare him off, a reminder he could let his guard down around you.

there's a difference in being valued for what you could give versus being valued for who you were. something apollo could not comprehend until he met you. "what is it, beloved?" he murmured, his attempt to be gentle with you in your fragile state as his cheek leaned into the hand you had outstretched towards him.

your thumb rubbed circles against his skin. "I've been waiting for you." apollo swallowed down a sob. he could hear it in your voice, how hard it was for you to speak full sentences. broken breaths in between each of your words.

quickly, he answered before you could speak again. "i know, love, i know. it was my father's doing. he dispatched hermes to distract me... he knew i was coming to see you..." he let out a shaky breath, "my father punished you to punish me."

zeus's cruelty was nothing new to apollo. his father had been cruel to him his whole life. it was the whole reason he began the revolt against him alongside hera and poseidon in the first place. to be liberated from his father's tyranny.

they'd been found out, of course. hera had already received her punishment. she was to be suspended into the sky wrapped in chains. all of olympus winced as she cried through the night but no one dared to help her out of fear of their "mighty" king.

he wasn't supposed to hurt you. never in a thousand years would apollo have done any of this with the knowledge that you could be caught in the crossfire between him and his father. this wasn't how their game went. zeus had never gone after his lovers before. but dammit, he should've known better. he should've known his father would make sure to break him down. come for his every weakness. now, because of his carelessness, you are a pinch close to death. practically drowning in your own blood and only being able to use the tree stump behind you for support to stay upright.

the longer apollo's eyes stayed on your struggling figure, the foggier they became. "oh, im so, so, sorry." he choked out, the sob he swallowed down earlier forcing its way back up his throat. "this is all my fault."

he felt your thumb swipe at tears he wasn't aware he'd been shedding. how could you still be so gentle with him after he had put you in this situation? so attentive even though you were the one who needed the most attention?

And your eyes, they bore into his with the same amount of warmth as always. "hey.. its okay...we'll be okay." you mustered up a smile and, for a second, apollo believed your words, that everything would be okay. because your superpower was making him - everyone - feel like everything would be okay.

reality hit him with a strangled cough coming from you. he jumped, immediately, blinking away the rest of his tears as his hands helped to support you, your blood coating him. his breath quickened. every second you were falling further into the embrace of death. he was wasting time moping instead of helping.

apollo trembled as he went to press a hand over your wound. "let me heal you."

"no," you denied. it was all you could say with the little bit of strength you had left.

a helpless cry left apollo's lips, his tears flowing once again. your answer did not surprise him. in fact, he expected it. in all of your meetings with apollo, you never failed to mention that you cherished the value of a mortal life. to value which is rare, and what is more rare than a mortal life with the only promise that it would one day end.

apollo was a god. he was never born to die but born to continue living and changing as time allowed. life meant little to him, he'd taken many lives without much thought just as much as he created lives.

that was normal in the life of a god but, you were not a god. only a man. a fact that was being painfully made apparent more so now than ever.

power coursed through apollo's body and, yet, he could not get himself to use it. you were just a man. a man who got a god to submit to your will. you taught him the value in life, the value in you. in turn, he could not disregard your wishes as he could anyone else. he hated it. apollo hated how he loved you so much, he couldn't be selfish. how even when you were slipping through his fingers, he stopped himself from healing you because he knew you would be unhappy if he did, and he would be dammed if he was the reason for your unhappiness.

it was childish to believe that at the doors of death would you change your mind, abandon your humanity, and beg him to save you. "is this really what you want..." he asked. a plead, his last attempt to bargain with you.

you didn't answer his question. he preferred that. it left room to wonder, pretend there was a chance at something else. instead, you reached behind his head, pushing it forward until it gently bumped against your own. you didn't speak at first, opting to admire the face of your lover one last time.

“you're so beautiful..." you breathed out through your staggered breath.

apollo scowled at your words. Not finding the humor in your inappropriate timing for a compliment. “really? that's what you have to say right now." he frowned, his lips jutting into a familiar pout.

“it's true," you hummed, bumping noses with him.

he allowed you to indulge in your affections, scrunching his nose in response. a pointless attempt at gaining some type of normalcy within the situation. yet, the reality loomed over him. he could not shake it off as easily as you. “you’re dying and your last words to me are going to be something I hear from everyone.”

your laugh was music to his ears. soft, like your voice, but full of joy. the type of laugh that could light up a room and have even the gloomiest laugh along with you. he needed to savor it. to imprint the sound in his mind for the days he needs the encouragement to keep going. you found laughter even in a moment like this.

"it's only a matter of truth," you said, eyes flickering to his lips followed by a tilt of your head. when your lips brush, you murmur against his lips. "besides, wouldn't you miss hearing it from me the most?"

his stomach flutters at your words. of course he'd miss hearing your praise. not just for his beauty, but for anything. he held you in the highest regard, like you were a god yourself. but, it was easier to pretend he didn't care, and instead leave those words unspoken.

he settled for angling his lips to meet yours and disregarding your previous question. "you're being ridiculous." apollo mumbles, ignoring his aching heart.

then there is only silence as the two of you lean in to close the gap between you. like a magnet pulling you forward. when your lips touch, there's an immediate desire. your teeth smacking against each other, your hand pulling apollo's head in closer, deepening the heated kiss as much as you could. he didn't expect to feel droplets on his cheeks. you had cried. the realization made him want to weep.

you had nothing to lose, so you gave it your all. one last time.

the pull away was hesitant, and even then, your lips still ghosted one another's. forehead's touching, your eyes met. "i love you," you declared as if it was the first time you had confessed.

"i love you too." a silent goodbye hidden behind the desperation of his words.

you sighed contently as your expression softened and your eyes shut with a smile. apollo wanted to speak, to yell at you to keep your eyes open. keeping them on him until you couldnt anymore instead, he chose not to speak. the look on your face didn't let him.

you were happy. happy to accept your fate. you showed no signs of regret, no anger, no guilt, nothing that would keep you on this earth any moment longer. dying happily. who was apollo to take that from you?

his cries and begs would only put stress on you. you didn't deserve that. your death had to be just as beautiful as your birth.

so, apollo continued to sit there, watching your breath. how after a few seconds, it would begin to slow down, and the little tufts of warm air he felt against his cheek gently came to a stop. the cool air of nature taking its place.

your body was heavy against his. cold too. he didn't care, he would hold you until you were warm again. soon, as the hours went by, he would have to bring upon another day. a day that you would not get to be apart of.

until then, he would hold you under the moonlight one last time

they were caught. after making it onto the ship and successfully snagging caligua’s stupid sandals, they were taken by surprise by a horse. It was ridiculous. as piper laid out cold on the steed’s back, apollo made conversation about his demise. It was a nerve racking walk to the emperor’s throne room. caligua wasn’t merciful and apollo wasn’t sure of the whereabouts of meg and jason.

as a god, he thought he saw everything. but as lester, the surprises were never ending.

they made it to caligua’s throne, apollo’s eyes immediately scanning how many enemies were in the room. he wasn’t shocked to see the loyal attendants of caligua, nor was he shocked to see meg and jason trapped beside him.

but when his eyes settled onto the person beside caligua’s throne, apollo wanted to throw up. his heart thumping against his chest making him lose his breath. It was you. how was this possible? you died in his arms. In Ancient Greece.

reading the shock on his face, you dared to give him the smile he loved most as you stood behind the enemy. with a tilt of your head and a wave, you greeted him, “hello apollo, long time no see.”

#ꨄ𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝ꨄ #pjo x reader #pjo x male reader #trials of Apollo X reader #pjo hoo toa #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo #trials of Apollo #apollo x reader #apollo x male reader #Percy Jackson X reader #nico di angelo x reader #nico diAngelo X male reader #heroes of olympus x reader #male reader

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charles-eclair16 · 10 months

Text

~The 5 times Charles talked about you publicly~

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x actress!reader.

Warning- it's my first time ever writing so please be kind. English is not my first language so please ignore it if there are any mistakes.

1. The first time Charles was caught talking about you was pure accident and it wasn't even him who brought you up. It was an overly competitive Carlos who couldn't keep his mouth shut. It was during a C² challenge of who knows your teammate better and it was all going pretty much in Charles favour because the questions were too easy according to him. So when the score was 6 to 4 he was feeling pretty confident about winning but what he didn't expect was the next question to throw him off.

"Who's your current crush?" Was honestly not a difficult question to answer and Charles knew he would nail it. He totally knew who Carlos was crushing on.

"It's Y/N! He watches her interviews and giggles because she's so beautif-oww mate stop hitting me!“ Charles knew he had to make his teammate stop talking before he spilled anything more.

"Is it true?" Now this was a question Charles didn't know how to answer, should he own up that he was hopelessly crushing on her and that it was true that he watched all her interviews. But then again who could blame him she was so beautiful and he honestly loved the way she spoke, something about the way she spoke made Charles want to listen to her for hours.

"Yeah it's true. I really like her as an actress and she's very pretty but I don't giggle watching her!" He thought that was a decent answer.

"He does! He does it! He even watches fan edits of h-" Carlos was cut off by a wildly flinging hand of Charles.

" I do not!" was what Charles could come up with as he tried to stop Carlos. The next day he woke up with thousands of mentions of fans telling him that they understood...he didn't knew if he should feel embarrassed or laugh at some of the memes. He even liked a few of them.

2. The second time Charles mentioned you it was after you had soft launched each other for two months without the fans knowledge. It was nice to share secret moments with each other and bask in the privacy of home dates. It had been 7 months of dating and Charles was on the moon. His car was great, he was leading the championship with 10 points and he had a wonderful women supporting him. The only thing which bothered him was him not being able to shout his love and show you off to the world. So a mutual decision was taken between you two to not hide anymore but what you didn't expected was Charles to come running towards you as he got out of the car after coming p2 in the Silverstone Grand prix. You weren't even able to utter a word before he was kissing you. It wasn't a peck it was Charles expressing his love and gratitude for your unwavering support.

" How does winning feels now? Much sweeter than before?" Was the teasing question he got as he went to the post race interviews. He wasn't surprised. He knew he was going to get questions after a public kiss.

"Yeah, it feels great winning here with Carlos coming p1. It's a great weekend for our team" he laughed as he answered the question.

" So I'm sure you have plans to celebrate tonight. Any special plans?" He knew what the interviewer wanted to hear so he gave it to him with a smile so big he knew his dimples were all out.

" Yeah there's a plan to celebrate tonight definitely, the teams been throwing different ideas but honestly I would just prefer to spend my time with my girlfriend and have a quiet night. She came directly from her shooting so I'm sure she would want to stay in. And we can party with the team next time!"

It was safe to say that they both were trending worldwide.

3. At first Charles didn't know why he was trending and before he could check it he was asked to hurry up and get in the car. It was the worst race of the season for him. He was leading the race with pole position in France but he lost traction in his rear tyres and crashed into turn 11 which caused him the race. He was frustrated and tired. He just wanted to go back and not think about the horrible way he got out of the race. He wanted to cuddle you and forget about the day so when he was told to to attend a group media pen he was annoyed. When the question came he was speechless at first his brain shutting down from the ridiculous question.

" It's a very bad time for you Charles with the dnf and your recent breakup so how do you seperate these things from your work? Did your breakup caused you maybe to lose?" He wasn't aware of his break up.

"My what?!" Charles was shocked he didn't knew he was broken up because he was not planning to break up anywhere in the future.

"You didn't tell me you broke up?!" Perrie was genuinely confused now. If it was true wouldn't Kika tell him that? He knew the girls were close and he was sure that Charles would tell him that, wouldn't he?

"What did you do?" It was Lewis who glared at Charles and he finally got his wits to answer.

"No! We are very much together and happy! Who told you that we broke up?! Is that why I was trending Today?"

"Yes there was news that you broke up with your girlfriend and that you were heartbroken." The interviewer nervously let out a chuckle which caused the drivers to laugh

"Oh my god! No! We are together and I plan to be together for a long time so there's no need to worry about that ...I don't think I would survive without her pasta to be honest and her too." He reassured.

When he finally got the chance to check his notifications later in the night he could only laugh as he looked at the memes and the threats he got for fumbling a baddie like Y/N. He showed her some too as she layed on his chest on their bed.

4. The fourth time Charles gets asked is the first time he felt nervous talking about you ever in the entire 5 year relationship. It was because he knew he was absolute shit at lying. So when all the fellow drivers continue to tease Daniel for throwing the wedding party of the year. He remains quite and laughs at appropriate times.

" Charles you're quite there! So now that your friends are settling down with Daniel and Max getting married is it safe to assume that you're next?" Oh shit! He was sweating. He didn't know how to answer that without revealing that he had already picked a ring and was going to propose very soon. He had even taken her father's approval last month on their family trip together.

"Yes mate when are you getting married?"

"He's definitely getting married next!"

"With how whipped he is for her how do have any doubts about that!“ Charles tried to tune out the teasing remarks of his friends to formulate words to answer.

" Uh yeah, I would very much like to but we are focusing on the present at the moment but there's no doubt that I plan to marry her because honestly I can't imagine anyone else by my side when I think of my future. I want to start a family with her and get old with her. She completes me in the true sense and is my piller of strength. I don't think I have ever felt this much love for anyon-"

"And this is why we don't question Charles because then he doesn't stop!" Charles laughed at that as if Max was any better when talking about his wife.

"So yeah marriage is definitely on the cards on the future " he concluded.

And after 2 months he knew why he was trending and he couldn't be more happier. He now laughed at the mentions and yes he knew how to fight for his fiance.

5. The fifth time Charles was asked about you he was smiling ear to ear and anyone who looked at him can see that he was glowing.Others would say it was because he was starting the new season as a world champion but he knew it was because of Y/N and what she had told him the night before and later to their closed ones. So he felt quite happy answering questions.

"How are you feeling for the new season? Excited? Nervous?" the interviewer couldn't stop himself from smiling too. Charles happiness was contagious.

"It feels good to be back to the racing. The car feels good and after last year we are quite excited for this season too. We are looking forward to the races and with new tracks added to the calendar the excitement levels have increased. Yeah there's nervousness too-ah only little bit but that's totally normal...But I am quite confident! Also now I have to be a little careful because now that we are going to have new addition to the family I can't risk it! I have to-"

"New addition?" He stopped talking eyes widened and looked at the camera.

"What?" He was fucked, so fucked. She was going to kill him. He knew.

"You told new addition? Is it true? Are you going to be a father? Congratulations!" He could only nod and accept the hug he was receiving. They were supposed to announce it with a cute insta post and he had ruined it. He was the one to suggest it, he had even thought about the caption.

"Tell us more! Is she going to come to the races now? I'm sure everyone would like that?!" The interview continued

"Oh yes! Yes she wants to come to the races but I think we'll keep it a little private and only between family to enjoy this moment together. It's a new beginning with my person so I want to be there for her at every step. Its- it's definitely a blessing for us and I'm so grateful for her."

The next thing he knew he was trending along with y/n as parents and he couldn't ask for anything more.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #fic rec #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #max verstappen f1 #cl16 fanfic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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