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maxverstappendefender · 2 months

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Hi I was wondering if u can make an imagine with max verstappen where the reader is an athlete also (tennis player please 😮‍💨😮‍💨😭😭🥹🥹) and she is also from Netherlands

her and max were like in the same school or neighbors or even Victoria’s friend and her and max used to be dating since they were young teenagers but they broke up because of their careers (more like she broke up with him lol🤭) and they meet again at a gala or a wedding when they are at the top of their game her being world no.1 and many grand slams winner and him being world champion and then they have a confrontation with a lot of angst and yelling and max being heartbroken 💔💔🤌🏻🤌🏻

other part to this request: "Also about the max and athlete reader like if u can make it inspired by “call out my name” by The Weeknd 🥲"

a/n: this is such a good idea, i love some good angst. i made it a smau and also written parts (more towards the hend). i don't know much about tennis but i tried. the google translate dutch is probably bad but that's fine. hopefully i did your idea justice <3

warnings: profanity (?), alcohol

my masterlist !

The Dutch Athletes

yourusername posted on instagram!

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yourusername and that's a wrap on the lovely game of tennis, back to training for next season :)

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user PROUD TO BE DUTCH BC OF THIS LADY AND THIS LADY ONLY

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landonorris you're serving! (do you get it? im so funny)

-> yourusername ty lan (the tennis jokes are never funny)

-> landonorris not even a pity laugh.

user i see a certain someone hiding in the likes

-> user 🤺🤺🤺 be gone sir

victoriaverstappen cannot wait to see you next week!

-> yourusername i miss my favourite dutch person

-> user max is punching the wall rn

user wait, im new. why is everyone hating on max verstappen here?

-> user y/n dated him a while back but they ended it in 2021 for reasons no one knows. lots of speculation but they never confirmed or denied anything. he still has loads of pictures of them on his insta but she deleted hers, probs wasn't a mutual breakup in that case. she's still good friends with lando, charles, and max's sister!

-> user he probably cheated or something

-> user they both seem happy so we shouldn't make assumptions :)

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y/nmaxupdates still no new content of our favs together so we are doing a little throwback thursday to one of y/n's posts from 2015 (she has removed the post).

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yourusername posted a story!

yourusername posted on instagram!

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yourusername vegas baby! vv thankful lando is okay. congrats on the podium charlie!

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charles_leclerc You say congrats but you wear a McLaren hat

-> yourusername only because lando invited me, not you!

user max being cropped out has me CACKLING

user we were so so close to some y/nmax snippet by her posting him but she fucking cropped him out

landonorris i'm so mad i crashed, my helmet was so sick for this race. do you think i can wear it to the clubs tonight?

-> yourusername lando istg if you wear your damn helmet anywhere tonight. you are supposed to be staying at the hotel with me anyways?

-> landonorris i don't see a doctor that will stop me from leaving. but my helmet looked sick right?

-> yourusername eh

landonorris we literally spent like 3 days together before the race and you still chose that ugly picture

danielricciardo VEGAS BABYYY. tonight we party.

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yourusername 'VEGAS BABYYY. tonight we party.' ~daniel ricciardo (and don't worry, i didn't let lando leave the hotel looking like that)

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it had been a wonderful night so far. lando couldn't drink due to the drugs the doctors gave him so you didn't drink either out of solidarity. lando had gone off to do lando things, probably finding a way to the dj booth or socializing with whoever he can. you were just sat at this couch in the vip area. you were talking to charles for a while before he went off to do celebratory shots. you were so tired from the timezone difference, vegas compared to the netherlands was messing with your system. you had your head leaned back against the couch, your eyes were just looking at some of the drivers having a lot of fun and celebrating in one of the best party cities in the world.

you felt someone sit down next to you on the couch. you didn't know who it was at first but you quickly smelt the cologne and knew. max. you two hadn't really spoken since 2021, when you ended it. it wasn't the prettiest of breakups but we were both stupid kids and in love back then. you both should've known it wouldn't work out. you tried, though. you tried with every single thing you had in you but at the end of the day, fate would always be stronger.

"hey, y/n. haven't seen you in awhile," max finally said, breaking the silence. he sort of had seen you though, on instagram. had he missed you? every fucking day. you broke up with him though, and you seemed happier. if you were happy, he would accept that.

"sure," was all you said. that was your telltale sign that you did not want to talk. but let's be honest, max verstappen not having a conversation when he wants to sounded impossible. he wanted to fix things, he wanted to fix it all. why wouldn't you let him? "any chance we can talk?" he asked you. he wouldn't really take no for an answer. he would just talk to you while you listened, but even that would be stretching it.

you stood up from the couch, careful to not look at him. if you looked at him, you would be a goner and would do just about anything he asked you to. you were a strong person except when it came to max. "see you around," you muttered to him before leaving the vip area. you would infact not be seeing him around, not if you can avoid it. maybe not drinking was a bad idea. you had spotted lando who was busy chatting away to someone. "fuck," you whispered under your breath, realizing that the person who you had to make sure got home safely was still having a good night. you wouldn't want to cut his night short, especially when his night started bad with the race.

you felt some hands wrap around your waist and before you could protest, these hands were pushing you out this door to the club's back alley. you knew those hands though. you knew them all too well. "max, what the hell?!" you shouted at him as you felt the cool night air hit your face. it felt better than how being inside that club felt.

he knew this was probably too far. but when has 'too far' ever stopped him. he was so done with this all. 2 years of not having more than 10 words shared between you two. you two used to talk every single day, where did it all go wrong? he knew this one was his fault. he was the one who had lost you, all for racing. he gave up you for racing. he was a royal idiot for that. "i am so done with you not even talking to me!" he shouted to you. he was thanking god that you two were in an alley and not somewhere public for this.

"i don't want to talk to you," you said to him. not many people held their ground against max, but you always did. you never wanted to talk to him again, not since your breakup. you were happy and had a great life, you didn't need the mess that was max verstappen. "you never do!" he said back. that was true and you both knew it.

"you're right! i never do! because you fucked up," you shouted to him, putting your finger straight to his chest. the breakup was infact not mutual like the media made it seem. you two broke up because you were trying to support him in racing while still building a life in tennis for yourself. you could see the stress eating away at max that year and he still wouldn't let you help. even if it was help from afar. you tried to be there. he didn't even try to be there for you and your goals either.

"i know i did. believe me, i know i fucked it up," he said to you. there had been quite a few sleepless nights where his brain just wouldn't turn off. he had only been thinking about you. tonight was just his breaking point. he was done acting like he hadn't been thinking about you.

there was a moment of silence as we just looked at eachother. we had grown up a lot since we last got close like this. "so then why? just why?" you pleaded to him to just give him a real answer. 2021 had been a hard year for him and you knew that. but you were his girlfriend. you were meant to be there and help him but he wouldn't let you. he pushed you away at any chance he got. then you were alone. it was an endless cycle of you trying to help max with his stress, him pushing you away, and then you also getting lost to your own stress.

he put his hands on either side of your face. he knew he couldn't give you the answer he had given you when you asked this question 2 years ago. he couldn't say "just a tough year" because although that was a part of it, it wasn't the entire truth. and you deserved the truth. "i pushed you away before you could push me away," he said to you as he looked into your eyes. he felt like an idiot for saying that but it was the whole truth.

you gave him a slightly confused look. that had been a different answer than what you got 2 years ago. how could he even think you would push him away? you loved him so much and you had for years. you would have clung to him, even in death. "if i wouldn't have won in 2021, there was that thought that you would be gone," he admitted.

"i wouldn't have left. i wouldn't have ever done that," you quickly said. you had to say that really quickly before he spoke again. clearly your words took him aback a little. he really felt stupid for ever thinking that you would leave, let alone leave simply because he won a championship. mentally, you said 'fuck it', and just kissed him. you pulled away for a second to whisper, "je bent een idioot, max verstappen (you are an idiot, max verstappen)". then you kissed him again.

he smiled in the kiss, his hands in your hair and yours in his. your words were true, he was an idiot. he would probably have to kiss you a million times to make up for him pushing you away. and that was a price he was willing to pay. he felt you pull away and as desperately as he wanted to pull you back into him, he knew you had some more words to say.

you pulled away. "but you left. you left when it got hard and i will never put myself in that position ever again," you said to him. your lips stung with how much desire you had for max. but you had to make smart decisions, you could not get hurt again. and deep down, you knew he would leave if it got hard again. him leaving again would hurt too much. you had a good life now, he had a good life now.

he felt his heart shatter at your words. but he knew you were right that he had left when it got hard. he had taken the coward's way out. he wanted you to be happy and you seemed so happy with your life now. he couldn't take that from you. he nodded his pain away and spoke softly to you, "i hope you have nothing but happiness in life". then he walked away. he walked away but this time for your sake. he knew you wouldn't walk away from him so he walked away from you. he really did hope you had nothing but happiness in life. he could hear all about your happiness from the bits that victoria shared with him.

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y/nmaxupdates NEW CONTENT!! I REPEAT NEW CONTENT OF MAX AND Y/N!! that kiss?? oh we are SO back.

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#f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smau #formula 1 #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 smau #f1 smau

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heliads · 10 months

Text

i've got my eye on you

Nico Rosberg has moved on from 2016; the silver war; all of it. So he thought, at least. Lewis is still here, though, and that makes the forgetting so much more difficult.

masterlist

Nico Rosberg is not lonely, most of the time. He’s a busy man; he meets a lot of people, takes them out to drinks or dinner parties, and exchanges LinkedIns as often as phone numbers. It’s a good life. Keeps him sane.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes, Nico finds himself waiting for something else, something better, something real. That’s when he crosses the line he swears he’ll never touch again and thinks about someone specific. There is a man living in his very same complex, someone who knows Nico better than the scores of environmental activists and Sky Sports reporters, and Nico doubts they’ll ever be the same again.

They were good in the beginning. Better than good, they were the best and everyone knew it. The silver arrows, finest of the fine. They had identical white race suits and the same exact drive to win. That’s where they ran into problems, of course, because the podium only has space for one king to have a crown. The other has to be left in the shadow, the cursed second place. No one could live like that forever. They certainly didn’t.

Still, they were the same in almost every aspect. Nico swapped up their hats once, towards the end. He had wanted to throttle whoever had the idea to make their merch so similar. They may be on the same damn team, but that doesn’t mean they have to match in everything else as well. Same logo, same colors, and then Nico had taken off his cap to fidget with it and saw Lewis’ name there instead of his own, embroidered into the black fabric with the precision of a machine stitch.

Funny how Nico can literally walk around wearing Lewis’ name against his skull, and they still have no more claim to each other than complete strangers. Worse than strangers, actually. They had once been everything.

Some days, he thinks about it all the time. Other days, he forces it out of his mind until he can almost delude himself into thinking it’ll never show up again. And, on other, worse days, such as this one, Nico walks into the lobby of his home building in Monaco, both of his daughters holding his hands, and he spots Lewis across the room, pulling a suitcase behind him. Must have been a race weekend. Nico knows it is, of course, fixates over every score like he’s still in it, but. It’s easier to pretend that he could forget.

Usually, Nico’s good at brushing off encounters like this, but they’re just too close for that tactic to work. Nico wasn’t expecting it; last night ended up being late, plus he’s been out with the girls all morning. That’s why he doesn’t just keep walking, why he actually stops and stares. Lewis comes to a standstill around the same time. Must be the jetlag getting to him. That, and the fact that they haven’t been face to face outside of a race or work setting in months.

Nico should keep moving. He doesn’t, even as his girls tug at his hands in confusion. They know of Lewis, certainly, they’ve seen pictures up on the fridge and online, but they didn’t know Lewis like Nico did. No one could.

“It’s good to see you,” Nico says uncertainly. Pleasantries never fail.

Lewis shudders slightly and nods. “Yeah, you too. Hope the girls are doing well,” he adds, as if he can’t see both blonde daughters right by Nico’s side. They’re still holding onto his hands, one apiece, and eyeing Lewis with wide, curious stares. They’ve inherited that from him already, it seems, the inability to look away.

“Do you two want some sweets?” Lewis asks suddenly. “I keep a bag in my luggage.”

Nico frowns, asks something asinine about drivers and nutritionists and fitness goals. Lewis just chuckles and says that he never actually opens the thing, just keeps it in the bag so he can practice self discipline or something else insane like that. God, he always tried to be the best of them.

His girls don’t know any of that sort of life, though, and won’t so long as Nico can help it, so they just clap their hands and plead for a treat or two. Nico gives the appropriate nod when it’s clear that Lewis is serious.

Lewis kneels down to the ground, unzips the top of his suitcase and pulls out a bag. Crisp, unopened, just as promised. Lewis’ resolve held all this time, then broken just now. The plastic tears easily. It doesn’t take much.

Lewis considers the bag. “I’ve always been fond of those. They remind me of some stuff I used to love a while back. They were from some small town, I don’t remember where.”

“Hoddesdon,” Nico says. He states the place aloud like he’s rattling off one of a thousand countries or capital cities, some bright child with a knack for memory games who will grow up into a man who knows too many languages but not enough people with whom to practice. “You’re talking about the candy from Hoddesdon.” Town near the place they used to kart together. Close enough to walk or bike from any hotel or flat. Two boys could do it easily if they were inclined to stay out all day and night, and they usually were.

Lewis’ head snaps up, and the brief look of shock and wonder reminds Nico of when they were kids. It’s the exact same expression Lewis would wear when Nico agreed to buy him some sweets. Even though Lewis would beg and plead with him all day long, the moment Nico said yes Lewis always looked surprised, as if he never truly expected that Nico would go along with it. That Nico would go along with him. Maybe that’s why Nico always caved. It meant he got to see that look again.

Painfully, it also reminds Nico of how Lewis had looked when he found out Nico was retiring in 2016. They were in the midst of a massive crowd with too many overlapping voices and faces, but somehow Nico had still been able to look out across the crowded room and sight Lewis the moment Nico opened his mouth and announced his retirement.

It had been the same expression then as now. The brief drop of his stomach like a roller coaster, the smooth spread of a poker face to cover up any emotional slips or wide eyes. All of it. Lewis had never told Nico any of this, of course, but Nico has known Lewis long enough to read his body, his mind, his entire life. It’s why he likes pointing out Lewis’ flaws on Sky Sports; just another way of proving that he’s still got it, that no matter how much Lewis changes, Nico Rosberg still knows exactly what makes him tick.

More often than not back then, it was Nico. It’s still Nico now whenever they awkwardly run into each other in their complex or Nico analyzes him a little too well on live TV.

Right now, though, Lewis is not angry at him, just caught off guard. Something in the back of Nico’s brain says that he likes that more. Nico scowls to himself and wonders why he hadn’t shut that voice up years ago.

“Yeah,” Lewis says at last, after a weighty pause that Nico isn’t entirely sure doesn’t solely happen in the confines of his own head, “Yeah, it was.”

To distract himself, Lewis remembers what he’s promised and hands some individually wrapped candies to the two blonde girls clustering in front of him. Nico remains where he is, watching as Lewis replaces the bag in his luggage again, closes the top, stands up and mumbles something about how he’d better get going. Crazy travel like always. You know how it is.

Nico does know. He nods, giving Lewis the reprieve he needs to head to the lift. Nico thinks that he might actually lose his mind if he was in the same small box rattling up to their floor, looking anywhere but at Lewis, so he diverts his girls to throw their trash away first and Lewis gets away. Another lift comes in a short time. Everything is just as it was before, but– not at all.

His daughters cheer over their new sweets, giggling down the hallway about how they were able to convince Mr. Hamilton to give up his secret stash. Nico is plagued by the sudden thought that if he had married Lewis like he’d wondered about all those years ago, if they had adopted these girls instead of them being Nico’s by bloodline, that he might laugh about their reaction being inherited from Lewis instead of, you know, from him. It makes Nico think about just how much of Lewis is left in him. It makes him question if any of Nico is trapped inside Lewis, waiting to be let free.

Even after he gets back to his place and locks the door carefully to guard against any unwholesome influences, Nico’s entire train of thought is rattled for the rest of the day. Nico has been trying his damndest to avoid Lewis every time they catch the lift or leave the building around the same time, and he knows full well Lewis has been doing the same. He’s all but admitted to it a few instances before.

This is why they play this elaborate game of hide and never seek, then. Nico lies awake at night, remembering paths he hasn’t gone over in a long time. The start. The glorious first act. How it had all broken to pieces. Nico had said before that he doesn’t regret the rivalry, that it only pushed them to greater heights, and he stands by that now. Still. That doesn’t mean his blood doesn’t run dark with grief to think of everything they once had that is gone forever now.

Nico can remember talking with his communications handler about it one time. He and Lewis had been fracturing for a while by then, but they’d only started showing it publicly for a few weeks. The guy had told Nico that this was good, actually, that people liked the slow burn death of it all. It was like watching a railway crash in slow motion, the guy had said. You know it’ll hurt and you know it’ll end badly but you just can’t look away for the life of you.

It had made Nico’s veins thrum with the unhappy sickness of needing to prove the truth to be a lie. He’d wanted to spit in the guy’s face; swear at him until he ran out of breath; go drag Lewis in front of a live camera and make out with him until their gums bled, just to prove that they were still totally fine.

Look where all that pent up self-justification got him, though. Nico and Lewis are hiding from each other in the same complex, too convinced that the other needs to change to ever leave. The comms handler must be laughing at them still, gleeful and victorious after Nico made him rich.

There was a lot that even the viewers didn’t see. It’s not like either of them really tried to hide it, how they broke apart, but even so. People only saw the same few photos of sun bleached hair and gap toothed grins and unicycles, they didn’t know all of it. Nico thinks that’s for the best. The thought that anyone could know even half of what they had is intrusive and wrong.

When he closes his eyes, he can see all of it at once, overlapped like a thousand magazine clippings. Sleeping over and staying out late and making the same stupid jokes every time. Trying each other’s food and loudly arguing irrelevant details and racing and racing and racing. Small nothings that only serve to make him smile. More important stuff. Secrets Nico has only kept to himself.

Nico has only kissed Lewis once. That’s not counting stupid things like kisses on cheeks, everyone knows those don’t actually matter. That’s why you can get away with doing them in the background of televised interviews, in large crowds, even next to your father. People wouldn’t care, anyway. They’d laugh and say that he and Lewis were European, that’s what they did. It wasn’t real. It could never be real. When you count up how many times Nico wanted to kiss Lewis and didn’t, though— well, that would be like damn near every day.

The one kiss was different. That was on purpose. He’s thinking about it now. It was late at night. 2015. Abu Dhabi. Nico had wanted to win that championship more than he’d wanted anything in his life. Maybe he’d fucked himself over in Austin, maybe even earlier, but it was still Lewis with the security of that title once the final race was over. He’d driven beneath the waving flag, he’d smiled and cheered in all the photographs, and Nico had felt this terrible sort of rage simmering beneath his bones.

The kiss had been later, at one in a successive chain of afterparties for both Mercedes drivers, technically, but mainly for Lewis. Lewis was the one who got it done. Lewis was the one who made them all proud. Lewis was also the one who pulled Nico aside when everyone else was busy getting shitfaced or screaming their heads off.

It had been dark. No one had seen. Lewis had grinned at him, asked Nico if he was really going to sulk the whole night. Nico had said something stupid like why shouldn’t I and give me a reason to stop and, well, Lewis had. Nico can still feel that night burned into him, taste it like all those times he drank champagne on a podium straight from Lewis’ hands. Salt and sweet and shameless.

Lewis had pulled away just a little, enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, and asked if he was better. Nico lied, said yes, and swore to himself that he would win the next championship just so the next time this happened, he would not be the one to suffer. Betrayed with a kiss. Nico had made a proper Judas after all. He can still see the faces of everyone at Mercedes after he walked out of that contract, how even Vivian had cautiously asked him if he was really sure this was what he wanted. No one knew Nico Rosberg at all, and that was exactly how he wanted it.

Still, though. Thinking about the past makes him think about the kiss. They may have been somewhere between tipsy and wasted when it happened, but Nico swears that it had been a long time coming since before the fights even started. It just took the ache of resentment to let them cross that bridge and leave it burning.

He shouldn’t think about it anymore. He definitely shouldn’t think about how he’s still in the same building as Lewis, so close. Viv is out with the girls at the moment. No one would know. If Lewis rejects him here and now, well, Nico can always go back to his green energy fanboys and YouTube subscribers to soothe his ego.

This is a bad idea, and Nico can’t help it. He paces back and forth on the hallway he thinks might be Lewis’, dragging his heels like Lewis might be able to sense his hesitation somewhere, wherever he is, and come out at last. At the start of it, Nico has about a thousand different things he wants to say, accusations and apologies and mundane pleasantries all.

At the end, when Lewis does come out of his room, Nico doesn’t say anything. Can’t say anything. Instead, he just sort of nods, raises a hand halfway like he’s doing that weird half-jog at the start of a crosswalk.

Lewis waits, silhouetted against the threshold of his door, and when it’s clear that Nico won’t be doing or saying a whole lot at the moment, smiles and asks, “What, come here often?”

It’s a stupid joke. Nico laughs anyway. “We both live here,” he says somewhat impetuously.

Lewis tilts his head to the side, considering this. “Not right here, I think.”

Nico narrows his eyes, debating whether he truly has to explain the abstractions of flat rooms versus buildings, but Lewis breaks into that light chuckle of his and Nico lets go of his irritation, he lets go.

“I’m kidding, man,” Lewis tells him, still unable to hide a laugh, “Just trying to mess with you. Can I ask why you’re here, though?”

It’s a fair question. Nico is, in fact, loitering outside of his former friend turned rival turned something’s door like he’s got nowhere better to be. He doesn’t, but that’s beside the point. Truth be told, Nico himself doesn’t entirely know why he’s here. It just seemed like the place he needed to be.

“I was thinking,” he begins, “About a lot, actually. It’s been a while.”

Lewis stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then all of a sudden his entire being relaxes and he opens the door a little more. Good of him for finally recognizing an olive branch when Nico offers it. God knows he’s been practically screaming it every interview they’ve shared, every time they’ve met each other’s eyes in the paddock when he was there with Sky Sports.

“Wow,” Lewis mumbles, “Yeah. That sounds– that sounds good.”

This time Nico can’t hide his derisive snort. “That’s terrible. We’ve been avoiding this for ages. I run into you, we act nice, then run off. We have to face this.”

A brief spark of anger flashes through Lewis’ eyes– good, that’s something Nico can handle, something familiar that they can both feel better about than this strange nothingness– but even that’s gone soon enough. Lewis doesn’t have to put up with him like a teammate, Nico supposes. Whatever they do from here on out is their own undoing, the red purely on their ledgers. He wants to drown in it.

Lewis knows this too, Nico can taste it like blood on a bitten tongue. They stand there for a moment longer, daring each other to take it further. It’s a familiar game, one they’ve played since kids. I’ll go faster if you do. You’ll jump off the bridge so long as I go first.

The heavy pause ends with the gasp of a caught breath. Lewis hesitates a bit, wobbling on the heels of his feet, then rocks back down to earth at last. “You can come in, you know. If you want to.”

The sentence sort of makes Nico sick. There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to offer such a thing at all. The invitation would have gone without question. Nico thinks he lived half of his childhood at Lewis’ place instead of his, in hotel rooms and bedrooms and streets behind houses. The other half Lewis was at Nico’s. The thought that at some point they would be grown and staring at each other, having to wait for a formal question to share each other’s space, is nothing short of horrific.

Still, it’s better than they’ve been for a long time. Nico can still feel Lewis’ gaze washing over him again and again, taking in the details. They’re older, both of them, but not beyond the urge to stare. He can feel the weight of it on his throat, heavy like a chain, and it robs him a little of his faux confidence.

Nico nods once, the movement jerky and unsteady. “Alright,” he says, smiles, loosens his collar, and follows Lewis in.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

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seramilla · 4 days

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Seraphiel thinks that heaven has the high advantage against carmilla but they are proven wrong. Lucifer is not entertaining the idea of his family being executed simply for trying to protect themselves against the extermnations. And as for sera and Emily, they willingly fell so there are no crimes held against them.

So he decides himself to go have a little "chat" with seraphiel and the arch angels.

Lucifer stands in the middle of the angelic courtroom. He hasn't been here in, what? Eight thousand? Ten thousand years? Normally, he's never allowed in Heaven, under any circumstances. That's the way it's been ever since he fell. However, it was unusually easy to request an audience with the High Seraphim this time around. Normally, he meets with Heaven ambassadors at his Hell embassy. On equal ground, in his own turf; but cocky and overly sure of himself, Seraphiel had demanded they meet here, of all places.

Seraphiel hadn't even given him the benefit of a podium. Lucifer stands there, in the same damn square tile on the floor where he'd stood when they passed judgement on him, all those millenia ago. It's an attempt to make him feel vulnerable and weak, Lucifer realizes. But the little king has already been through literal Hell and back in is long existence; it will take much more than this, he thinks, to make him feel uncomfortable.

Seraphiel looks down at him from his pedestal. He's taller now, just like Sera, but without the sincerity and kindness that's always been present behind her eyes. His jaw and nose are sharp, angled, bird-like, and strong. His hair is the same white, cloud-like curls his sister possesses. The main difference in their features is that maniacal, twisted grin on his face. Sera had never wanted to see Lucifer fall; Seraphiel, on the other hand, had been giddy for it. One less Seraphim in the way to his direct line of power, Lucifer suspects. And now with Sera gone, the cocksure angel has finally gotten his way.

"Greetings, Morningstar," Seraphiel booms across the courtroom, forcing his voice to carry so he can be heard by all in their presence. Hellfire, this bastard is so full of himself, Lucifer thinks. "I see you are here on behalf of one Carmilla Carmine. I told her we would not be entertaining any changes to our agreement."

Lucifer chuckles. "Agreement? The way I read it, she didn't have the chance to agree to anything. Your terms were quite clear."

"Indeed," Seraphiel says, less amused with him now that Lucifer's had the gall to talk back. "I also seem to recall that I said any attempts to change the terms would be considered an outright refusal. I should kill all of them right now. That would be my right."

Lucifer smiles. That same wicked, signature smile that makes him so intimidating to his subjects, even now. This maniac in front of him really is just a petty, childish, ignorant little know-it-all, Lucifer thinks. Seraphiel is no Sera; he can't even keep the details of his deals straight.

Lucifer laughs. "I seem to recall the deal I made with your predecessors shields me and my family from your people's judgement. That includes the Exterminations and any other random act of retribution you may have against Sinners. Is that something you forgot?"

"Yes, your family has absolute immunity, for now," Seraphiel confirms. "That doesn't include the Carmine woman, her offspring, or anyone she invites into her home."

Lucifer laughs even harder. He leans on his cane, showing for all the world he knows he has nothing to fear from anyone here.

"Well, see, that's where you're wrong," Lucifer mocks, looking up at the frowning High Seraphim from underneath the brim of his large, white hat. "You may not be aware, but my daughter recently entered into a relationship with Emily. You know, your other sister? The one you said would never amount to anything? Ah, yes, I know you remember her. She stole the subcommittee seat right out from under your nose, didn't she?"

"You fucking piece of--!" Seraphiel stands, starting to shout. But when every eye immediately averts in response to his sudden outburst, he sits down again, trying desperately to maintain his composure. Lucifer sees his struggle, relishing in it, and uses that moment to drive the final point home.

"Yes, that Emily! Aaaaaanyway, she's dating my daughter now! Isn't that amusing! Which makes her family, for all intents and purposes. Which makes Sera family by proxy. Meaning that you can't do shit to either of them. And honestly, if I were the type of guy who thought revenge was worth it, I could have the elders court-martial you right now, for injuring one of Sera's stepdaughters. "

"Wait, that's not--!" Seraphiel starts, but Lucifer interrupts him again.

"Your contract is with me, not Carmilla, Philly, my boy," Lucifer continues. "My contract precedes anything you could draft up with her. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied." Lucifer jokingly shape-shifts his arms until they're tied together tight, like an exaggeratedly large bow tie, to drive the point home. "My family is safe. My entire family, even the ones who enter through romantic relationships. And since now the one who drafted up that contract is also in my family, well, I'd say you're shit out of luck. And if you ever come after one of them again, I will take it up with your superiors. Capiche?"

Lucifer waits for an answer, but when he doesn't get one, he smiles. "Wonderful! I'm glad we understand each other. Good to see you again, Philly! The pleasure's been all mine!"

With that, Lucifer turns on his heels, spinning his cane in a wide arc and whistling as he exits the courtroom. He can hear Seraphiel trying to protest behind him, while a couple of the angels on his subcommittee attempt to keep their leader under control. Seraphiel shouts out after him, something about how slimy he is, and about getting even. But Lucifer is already out the door, opening a portal to his palace, ready to tell Carmilla the good news.

It's always good to read the fine print of every contract, Lucifer recalls. He, the silver tongue and father of lies, is particularly good at finding such loopholes. He's especially proud that it had been his own daughter, bless her heart, who'd pointed this particular one out to him. His precious Charlie. His sweet, talented, brilliant apple of his eye. He's so very proud of her.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #emily #chaggily #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seraphiel #attempted murder angst au #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories

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putting-it-into-parc · 1 month

Text

jealousy, jealousy - chapter 7: nothing, just an inchident

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: george shows max exactly where his loyalties lie. mr. lando no-rizz rises to the occasion.

warning(s): just a spot of ✨🇬🇧colourful british language🇬🇧✨ from little lando norris ;)

chapter 7: nothing, just an inchident

Not a single driver couldn’t sense something being very wrong by the time Suzuka came around. Max and Charles avoided each other at all costs, and Charles had a sneaking suspicion that George and Carlos had a hand in helping it stay that way.

Clearly nobody had said anything to poor Lando nor Alex, who initially looked bewildered at Media Day, when Charles fled their circle at the first sight of that damned black cap. Or when Carlos started ordering an extra takeout meal during grid dinners while one chair remained conspicuously vacant. Or when George forcefully elbowed his way in between Max and Charles during their podium picture, taking extra care to jab Max in the ribs as he wedged himself in the center. But even they put two and two together eventually.

The first time Charles saw Max all weekend was in the Cooldown Room. Even in his daze, Charles felt terrible for George, who constantly fidgeted with his hat while shiftily glancing between Max and Charles in the thick, frosty silence.

The Cooldown Room had been affectionately dubbed “The Max Verstappen Podcast” for a reason; it was always Max chatting away merrily with his two guests—or one, if Charles was on the podium. The third person usually was forced to endure not only their unnecessarily verbose play-by-play of the entire race, but also the sight of Max failing to break eye contact with Charles for a mere second. Seriously. Max once managed to hand Lando a towel, ask him what the fuck happened to his tyres on Lap 24, and clap him on the back for what a great job he did handling that all while staring directly into Charles’ pupils the entire time. Charles’ lip curled bitterly at the memory.

Truthfully, what made Charles want to scream more than anything else was that Max was just…gone. There might have been a Dutch driver clad in a Red Bull suit sitting stiffly in the P3 chair despite being champion because it was the furthest away from Charles’ P2 seat, staring at the race replay, face devoid of any discernible emotion. But that driver wasn’t Max. Max brought up Charles at interviews any chance he got. Max hunted down Charles after every race before doing anything else. Max held the door open for him at the sauna. And Max had the audacity to tell Charles that his eyes looked like the Meuse while staring at him with those two blazing sapphires.

He sat on his hands to stop them from trembling, bit his lips to stop them from quivering.

Max felt like Public Enemy #1 on the grid, and he despised it. Everything he’d once thought about not giving a shit about the haters was wrong. Turns out he only embraced the hate when it was about pole positions and trophies. Hurting Charles, who everyone generally considered to be a sweet golden retriever angel? No sir.

Ironically, the only guy who treated him remotely normally was Carlos. Lando and Alex avoided making eye contact with Max. Even Pierre and Yuki exchanged nervous glances when Max was around, too afraid to ask what had happened. And George…well, George had started acting like his biggest wish was to secure a voodoo doll of Max and spend the rest of his life sticking pins into it.

One day, after a particularly unpleasant practice session during which George left a fucking hole in Max’s chassis—and had the balls to blame him for it, Max decided he’d had enough. He stalked over to George and gestured angrily towards the damaged car.

“There was no grip” was George’s pathetic excuse, as he took off his gloves and started walking away from Max mid-conversation.

Max laughed, incredulous. “Mate, we all have no grip. You all need to leave a little bit of space.”

“Yeah? So what’s your point?” came the insolent reply, three paces away.

Max saw red.

“Next time’s gonna be the same, you know,” Max spat at George’s retreating figure. “Dickhead.” He turned around, saw Checo, and immediately plastered what felt like the fakest smile known to man on his face. “Good job,” he chirped as if he hadn’t just finished cussing out George Russell.

“Thanks, man,” Checo said flatly.

“I’m so sick of this fucking diva,” Max complained to Carlos in the Red Bull hospitality later.

Carlos chuckled, although it sounded hollow. “You know George. He can be petty sometimes. He’ll come around.”

“I didn’t even do anything to him,” Max protested, vaguely aware of how whiny he sounded.

Carlos shot Max a look that plainly said, don’t push your luck. “I don’t know, Max. One might say having to be Charles’ emotional punching bag after what you did to him in that bar counts as anything. Although,” he mused, “if it makes you feel better, I think this season’s been rough on him in general.” Carlos started to count off on his fingers. “That breakup in the winter, Mercedes giving him the shittiest car, all those rumors about his unrequited crush—”

“Crush?” Max interrupted Carlos’ tallying. “What crush?”

“None of your business,” Carlos snapped abruptly.

Charles had no idea how long he’d been stagnating under his duvet after the race, but the sun was well on its way towards the horizon when his phone lit up with a text. He squinted at the bright screen.

Lando No-Rizz yo game? Me sorry man don’t feel great atm Lando No-Rizz bitch 1 round of rocket league before postrace pls

He didn’t want to play Rocket League. He didn’t want to go to the post-race party (he was fairly sure he never wanted to step inside a bar again, after what happened in Melbourne). He didn’t want to do much of anything, really. At this point, Charles just was barely going through the motions. He knew at some point the guys would notice him slowly morphing into an NPC, but as things were it took all of the willpower he could muster just to get out of bed, peel off the sweatpants he’d been living in for at least two weeks now, and pull on his racing suit three days a week.

A rude bang sounded on the door. Charles briefly fantasized about simply remaining motionless and magically willing the knock away.

No such luck.

“Let me in, you wanker,” Lando shouted from the hall.

Charles dragged himself over to the door and reluctantly allowed Lando to barge into his room.

“Bloody hell,” Lando said when he saw the closed curtains, the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, Charles’ unwashed, greasy hair. “Mate. You are down so bad.”

“I’m not,” Charles said as blandly as possible, knowing Lando would believe approximately zero percent of it.

“Just because Max is an arsehole doesn’t mean you need to be the one who goes into hiding.”

“Max doesn’t want to see me.”

“And why should you give a flying fuck about what Max wants?” Lando retorted.

“Because,” Charles said thickly, “what I want, is him.”

To Lando’s credit, he didn’t act surprised in the slightest. He blinked at Charles. “Max is my friend too, you know,” he said coolly. “I could tell he’s had a thing for you for literally eons. But he’s a right git sometimes and, how he acted at the bar was just…” He made a face. “…so yeah. Honestly mate, I know you want him, but he’s kind of lost the right to have you. And you have the right to live your life and enjoy it. I hope you know we’ve all got your back.”

Charles felt a sudden wave of appreciation for Lando Norris.

“Even if you’re a such a sad sack wanker,” Lando added.

He hurled a down pillow at Lando’s head. “Thanks, man.”

“Excellent. So Rocket League?”

Charles sighed. “I guess so.”

Lando beamed like a child who’d unexpectedly been handed an ice cream cone. Then he glanced down at Charles’ phone, the notification of his last text still on the lock screen.

“HEY,” Lando roared suddenly, “WHY, IS MY FUCKING CONTACT NAME IN YOUR PHONE, LANDO NO-RIZZ?”

Smiling for the first time in weeks, Charles grabbed another pillow and positioned it in front of his face, to ward off the onslaught he was surely about to receive.

notes: love me some george v max beef heheheh (featuring confused checo)

taglist: @fangirl-dot-com @spacegirlstuff @vroomvroomgang @perfectlyrainywerewolf

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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the cedric diggory f1 driver au that nobody asked for but i wrote anyways

all of this started because i was watching goblet of fire and noticed that both renault and hufflepuff share a color scheme

and then i thought that robert pattinson would look very very hot in a race suit

more chaos dedicated to the harbinger of chaos, anj herself (@libraryofloveletters )

in this scenario, the driver lineups are as follows:

ferrari: harry potter, oliver wood, red bull: draco malfoy, blaise zabini haas: fred & george weasley, renault: cedric diggory, zacharias smith

hes lead driver at renault, has been there for two years now

by all accounts, he's a very good driver, especially being as young as he is

but he's still chasing that elusive race win, he just hasn't been able to push the renault far enough

god he looks incredible climbing out of the car, balaclava lines on his face, hair mussed and drenched in sweat

cedric is a humble king always praising his fellow drivers, including ferrari rookie (and his former teammate) harry potter

"yeah, i mean, the pace was there but at the end of the day, it's hard to beat the ferraris. hats off to harry for that one, he really smashed it today, the win was well deserved."

a little wink at the camera, towel around his neck before he backs away with his press officer at his side

he's basically pierre gasly on steroids

the f1 ladies man

literally has fangirls falling over each other to try and get his autograph or a picture with him at signings

he's not the life of the party, leaves that to the weasley twins (they drive for haas, they need SOMETHING to celebrate)

instead he can be found in the back, talking and laughing with the mechanics and the engineers

everybody in the paddock loves him

media darling, you can't tell me otherwise

he's england's sweetheart

the extra tight white fireproofs that show off EVERYTHING

it's silverstone, his home grand prix (although it's also the home grand prix for half of the grid at this point)

and he's feeling great about himself all weekend, cedric has a feeling that he might finally get his win that weekend

a crash in the first corner takes out one of the ferraris and a mercedes

he's not even sure how it happened but somehow he's up into second place with ten laps to go

"alright, ced, the gap between you and blaise is 0.45 seconds, malfoy is almost one second behind. if you can hang on until the drs zone, i think we stand a chance at winning the whole damn thing."

"and diggory has drs! the renault goes down the inside of the red bull of blaise zabini, and he's done it! cedric diggory is leading the british grand prix!"

and the crowd goes MENTAL

"it worked!" cedric screams over the radio. "we're leading the bloody race!"

i imagine that he'd talk a little like george russell on the radio

and when he finally gets to stand on that podium, with the british national anthem pouring out of the speakers as he stands on the top step

hefting the trophy above his head before they're given the all clear to pop the champagne bottles open

god that man would so pretty covered from head to toe in champagne.

a cheeky grin throughout the post race interviews

gets to the cool down room and slumps down in his chair, still in shock over the entire thing as he looks at the little pirelli baseball cap, the british flag and 1st place embroidered on the side.

his girlfriend there in a little yellow sundress filming the podium celebrations

cedric goes over to the blacony above parc ferme (i think that's what it's called? or maybe parc ferme is just where the cars go after a race?) and pours the champagne on her when she's not looking

champagne kisses after the podium celebrations, the paparazzi are swarming and he's holding the trophy in front of their faces for privacy

celebrating afterwards with him you ask???

SPICY CONTENT INCOMING!

a full dinner with the whole team to thank them for their efforts

he's wearing jeans and a white button down shirt, a little cord necklace resting under his collarbone

they're back in the hotel, music playing softly in the background

sharing a bottle of wine and dancing in the candlelight

turns into hot sex

but cedric, despite now having a race win under his belt, still devotes the entire night to pleasing his girlfriend

holding her hand at all times, even when it gets a little rougher by their standards

which it always does during a race weekend when he lands a podium

scratches all down his back

shes on her stomach, one hand behind her back to grasp his hand as he fucks her from behind

calling him 'my race winner' the entire time because it inflates his ego (and turns him on)

endless cuddles afterwards (hes the big spoon, draping his body over hers as he thanks her for being there to support his career, being there for him during every up and down in his career

#hp fandom #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory au #harry potter and the goblet of fire #the biggest shitpost i have ever made #f1 au #harry potter au #and yall though the charles leclerc - pixars cars au was bad

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the-owllady · 5 months

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Red Velvet Hogwarts AU - The Heirs (01)

"That was a mistake... That was definitely a damn mistake, a damn unnecessary mistake... How could you have been so stupid, Kang Seulgi?" Seulgi snarled. Love is blinding, she was sure of that truth. "You should have stayed in London, your secret was safe in London at your former private school." Seulgi had also discovered that jealousy was an awful emotion that was difficult to control.

Her fingers combed through her long hair over and over again. Her hands tensed until her knuckles bulged and clenched into fists to hide her nervous shaking. Seulgi chewed her bottom lip as she listened to Dumbledore's deep voice on the other side of the heavy door to the Great Hall.

"You would have seen Joohyun by Christmas vacation this year at the latest... Why did you let her talk you into this? Maybe she would have been in a relationship by then and you wouldn't have stood a chance, but maybe she wouldn't have been in a relationship and you could have continued to adore her from afar..."

Joohyun's mother and Seulgi's mother were best friends, since Seulgi could remember, Joohyun and she accordingly had also been best friends. Ever since they were teenagers, Seulgi had been secretly in love with Joohyun...

Joohyun had been going to Hogwarts since she was eleven, while Seulgi had been very happy at an elite private school for witches and wizards in the very heart of London. It had been perfect, small classes with private teachers, no questions asked and Seulgi regularly saw Joohyun during the vacations.

Always, Joohyun begged Seulgi to change schools and accompany her to Hogwarts. But at the beginning of this summer vacation, she had also started to rave about a romance with one of her classmates.

Driven by jealousy and one nasty fight with her parents later, Seulgi had received confirmation from Professor Dumbledore that she would be allowed to transfer to Hogwarts. At first, this decision seemed brilliant to Seulgi. At Hogwarts, she would be able to spend much more time together with Joohyun, and Joohyun's crush would certainly have been a thing of the past very quickly in Seulgi's presence...

She partly blamed Dumbledore. He had been delighted to welcome Seulgi and her parents to his office before anyone else. Seulgi had suggested to him at a convenient opportunity that she could join the Gryffindor house. She would have preferred to take her things straight to Joohyun's dormitory, but Dumbledore had instead insisted that, in keeping with an old Hogwarts tradition, she would wear the Sorting Hat in front of the whole school at the assembly at the beginning of every new school year, which would then place her in an appropriate house. Every student at Hogwarts was part of this tradition and Seulgi could not disagree.

She remembered her father's words. "We can't help you anymore..."

Upon saying goodbye, Seulgi's mother had warned her daughter that some secrets were better left covered by the cloak of silence for all eternity.

With a metallic groan, the heavy doors opened to reveal the Great Hall. Eager eyes turned as Seulgi crossed the center aisle with quick steps to join Dumbledore on the podium.

Seulgi found Joohyun's face in the crowd of students at the Gryffindor table. She was sitting between her friends.

Joohyun gave Seulgi a cheerful smile, waving at her.

Seulgi tried to return the gesture with a wry attempt at a smile. Joohyun would soon have no more reason to smile...

Dumbledore retrieved the Sorting Hat from a wooden box.

Seulgi swallowed sorrowfully. The enchanted piece of fabric hovered over her head like a sinister demon.

The hat pursed its lips boredly, then yawned and awoke fully from its slumber. "I guess we have another houseless student..." he muttered unimpressed. "Doesn't she look a little old for a first year?" He laughed out loud and an amused giggle filled the Great Hall in his favor.

Professor Dumbledore smiled as well. "Seulgi transferred to Hogwarts. I'm sure the seventh years will be happy to welcome their new classmate with open arms."

Seulgi felt the Sorting Hat's skeptical gaze resting on her. He glanced at her scrutinizingly.

"Oho..." he murmured, slightly surprised. "Decades... It has been decades since I last felt the presence of one of the heirs to the Hogwarts Houses. It is an honor." He indicated a bow.

Seulgi felt every pair of eyes fixed on her. She herself had caught even the teachers' attention. Excited murmuring and whispering went through the rows.

Joohyun frowned with concern.

Seulgi closed her eyes.

The following words of the Sorting Hat echoed fatefully through the Great Hall. "Welcome home Heiress of Slytherin!"

#red velvet #fanfic #my writing #irene #seulgi #seulrene #wendy #wenrene #joy #yeri #hogwarts au #hogwarts houses #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #bae joohyun #kang seulgi #son seungwan #park sooyoung #kim yerim

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britneyinthewall · 2 years

Text

inspired by @blorbocedes post who has now gotten me on the sico train

“You left me no room”

Sebastian internally groans, he had known making the damn move that Nico was going to bitch about it but with adrenaline pumping through his veins and the chance of a win only a couple of laps away he had made a risky move that could have sent them both spinning into gravel, but thankfully they used whatever “respect” between them that they had to give each other just enough space so Sebastian could pass through but the rest of the race was spent trying to keep the other blonde from hitting him as for the last five laps Nico had been practically breathing down his neck until Lewis passed both blondes with only 2 laps to go. He sighs and turned around to face the sweaty blonde, who even though also ended up on the podium looked miserable (Sebastian thought Nico always looked sort of in a bad mood but more so than usual)

“Obviously I did leave you room or we both would have spun out” He retorts, putting on the second place cap and ignoring whatever cameras are near them, thankfully Nico also had the idea to speak in german (and quietly) as Sebastian doesn’t really want any more articles about how they are bad or “dysfunctional” teammates written by some nobody journalist that wants a hit story that’s already been written a million times before about how putting two similar young teammates together is a bad idea. Nico scoffs and Sebastian can see his eyebrows furrow even more.

“No you didn’t leave the room, I was smart and moved out of the way so we both could continue the race” Nico argues, and while a small (sensible) part of Sebastian's brain knows that Nico is right he would rather die than admit that so he just turns around, knowing that ignoring Nico pisses him off even more than arguing with him does and he can hear the other german sputter behind him as Lewis walks into the room, slipping on his first place hat with flushed cheeks and a wide smile on his face

“Seb, Nico” he greets them, grabbing a water bottle and hastily downing it and from the corner of his eye, he can see Nico pointedly staring at the other man which he chooses to ignore as they are practically being pushed out to go up to the podium.

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

While Seb can't always say he’s glad to have f1’s biggest drama queen as his teammate but hell does the other blonde know how to party

Before going to f1, Sebastian is pretty sure the only kinds of parties he had ever been to were your average birthdays, holidays, weddings, all that kind of stuff so now going into clubs with all the other drivers he often felt a little awkward because well he had no experience but having Nico around meant that there was never a dull moment. Going to the club with someone who not only lived in one of the best party cities ever as a kid but also was constantly invited to parties due to his father, meant that even at some whatever underground club in England only hours after the race like they were at the moment Sebastian was sure he was having the time of his life. He was watching Jenson and Lewis go head to head at a drinking competition, with Nico cheering on lewis and him Jenson meanwhile both looked ready to throw up, and eventually Lewis did. Nico jumping a mile back as the brit hurled in the nearest bin while Jenson drunkenly cheered before letting out a dangerous sounding burp and excusing himself to the bathroom. Sebastian went over to Nico, who was glaring at Lewis as he practically threw the 5 euros he bet Sebastian at him, and Sebastian decided against taunting Nico as the other blonde began to scold Lewis for losing while the poor guy was just barely getting down a glass of water Mark gave to him.

Once Jenson was back from the bathroom the party got back into full swing, and the more Sebastian drank the more he could feel the base of the pudding club music and the flashing lights. He was about to order another drink until Nico practically stumbled onto the stool next to him, a pout on his face and his eyes glazed

“What's wrong?” Sebastian questioned before asking the bartender for another beer and he noticed Jenson, Lewis, and some blonde girl with too much makeup on talking and it didn't take long for the dots to connect and he sighed.

“Never mind I got it,” He said and Nico groaned before looking up at Sebastian through his eyelashes, his cheeks flushed from his previous drinks.

“It's so stupid, I mean all of a sudden princess walks over and they completely forget about me! I mean seriously all she had over me is boobs” Nico mutters and Sebastian almost spits out his bear, and it burns as he swallows the rest from choking a little and he can't help but snort at Nico’s nickname for the girl as he’s pretty sure he can remember Jenson on more than one occasion calling Nico the same thing.

“Didn't realize how cute you got once you don't have any attention on you for one second Sebastian says dry and he swears he could feel the glare Nico was giving him.

“First of all I'm not pouty” Nico says, grabbing Sebastian's beer and taking a swing of it before Sebastian can even stop the other man “and second what's so interesting about her? She just likes them because they are rich and famous” Nico finishes and while Sebastian not going to disagree fueling whatever tantrum Nico is having won't help anyone so he stays silent but that doesn't work for long as Nico’s head springs up and Sebastian can see the mischievous shine in his glazed over eyes and well this is sure going to be interesting as he sits back and watches as Nico calls over the bartender who well enough was just getting drinks for Lewis, Jenson and the girl which then draws their attention from a couple of stools away towards the two blondes. Nico gives the bartender a sly smile and licks his lips like they are chapped, and with his already flushed face and strands of blonde hair which have fallen over his eyes, Sebastian swears Nico is trying to look straight out of a porn video and from just behind Nico he can swear he see Lewis and Jenson looking Nico while ignoring the girl who is still chattering about. Nico clears his throat and Sebastian internally sighs.

“Can I get a blowjob?” Nico asks a little too loudly (on purpose) and while it sounds lewd to Sebastian the bartender seems to know what Nico means and begins making a drink, quickly serving it to Nico who smiles before turning to Sebastian.

“Want to see a party trick,” He asks and Sebastian already knows Nico wants him to say yes and for the sake of it he nods, playing up his enthusiasm into the whole thing as he noticed they also gained Mark as part of the whole audience to whatever little game they are playing. Nico smiles and brushes his hair back as he grabs the shot glass by his mouth and swallows the shot whole, carefully putting it back down just as he picked it up and with a wet pop releasing the glass back onto the bar, not even sparing a glance towards Jenson or Lewis as he looks back over at Sebastian.

“Maybe I can teach you one day” He says (again a little too loudly) and well now Sebastian can’t back down so he enthusiastically agrees, because of course with now the attention of Lewis, Jensen and Mark he can't just not play along with Nico. The blonde suddenly gets up and nods towards the floor of sweaty drunk people dancing.

“Wanna dance I'm bored,” He says and before Sebastian can even answer he heads off towards the dance floor, and Sebastian follows towards the sea of people and if later that night when he’s truly wasted if he remembers him and Nico’s bodies pressed up against each other under the flashing lights and pounding music he chooses to forget it.

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

Nico had been weird in their first couple weeks as teammates, not particularly mean but just weird. Sebastian had tried to get along but the other blonde didn't seem to be having it so he just left Nico alone, focusing on his goal of getting as many points in the championship as he could, not that it really mattered since Redbull seemed to have taken over by storm and only a couple races in lewis was the championship favorite but Sebastian felt that focusing on his own races could distract him from whatever weird team dynamic had formed between the two.

It had been like that until a qualifying session, or well after a qualifying session where Sebastian found himself sitting against a building talking to Jenson, Lewis, and Mark, Nico silently next to him. Mark had been mid-conversation, talking about how good the car or how traffic during qualifying was bad and it sucked how he couldn't put in another good lap or something like that was with Lewis nodding in agreement every so often and Jenson piping up to speak his mind when he heard Nico mutter something almost silently next to him

“If they don't stop talking about how fast their car is I'm going to feed them a brick in their sleep so their slow tomorrow,” He said looking over at Sebastian for a second before turning back to the three others talking and it took Sebastian a couple of seconds before he realized that Nico was joking

Sebastian almost didn't believe it, they had barely talked in the past couple of weeks, and out of nowhere Nico says the worst most badly timed joke Sebastian thinks he might have ever heard, a joke that was made up of too much explaining and had that no real punchline so Sebastian wasn't even sure it could be considered a joke but for some reason, the randomness of it and the look of accomplishment on Nico’s face like he had actually landed some kind of good one-liner made the stupid joke actually funny so Sebastian couldn't help but let out muffled laughter as he tried to drink from his water bottle and was failing to do so, which caught Jenson's attention.

“Something funny Seb?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes moved between Sebastian who was still laughing, and Nico who looked surprised that Sebastian was laughing at his joke. Sebastian took a breath before looking over at Jenson and with a straight face he said-

“Mark's face” The Australian sputtered in anger while Jenson started to cackle with Lewis giggling next to him. Mark looked ready to say something but a sudden yell from Christian Horner about how if they loitered around other team garages he would fire them both sent them practically running back into the Redbull garage and because Jenson decided to keep poking fun at Mark he followed leaving the two blondes alone.

Sebastian turned to Nico, who was looking over at the trio walking away

“Your jokes suck, that's how you joke,” He said and Nico whipped his head around to face him narrowing his eyes

“My joke was funny! At least mine had a point yours was just about Marks's face which isn’t even funny” Nico argued and Sebastian scoffed

“Explaining a joke makes it unfunny” Sebastian countered and Nico huffed

“Well no one gets my jokes if I don't explain them,” Nico said and Sebastian chuckled

“Well jokes that need to be explained usually aren't funny anyways” and before he could even finish his sentence he had to slightly duck not to be hit in the head with the towel that was around Nico’s neck

“Asshole” Nico muttered and Sebastian grinned at the annoyance on Nico’s face. He wanted to continue but a call from their own team boss to go over their own qualifying laps pulled them from the floor where they had been sitting on and as they walked over Sebastian couldn't stop himself from speaking just to rile Nico up

“Now that you are willing to actually talk to me which means you can actually stand me existence…can I call you Britney?”

He got properly slapped with the towel that time.

#yeah I did it #does it suck? yes #do i care? also yes but the entire time I was having random sico brainworms #like they had so much bad bitch potential and they wasted it #can you tell I haven't written anything in a while #making me think i should drop my ao3 user and dip #dont look at spelling and grammer mistakes or i might cry

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averagedeadinsomniac · 2 years

Text

"𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝕬 𝕻𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝕸𝖊" | potc! Jack x reader

Chapter- 2 |𝘼𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡

chapter-1||chapter-2||chapter-3||chapter-4

He hauled her up to atop the mast along with him. The winds blew on there faces along with the salt of the sea. Together they stared out to the on coming land approaching rapidly, they weren't far now. Time passed and Jack jumped back down to the boat with a splash. Water had begun to fill up the ship and Jack grabbed a nearby pale and begun shoveling water out of the boat and back into the ocean. Something had caught their eye when they went by rocks groves. There had been a wooden pillar with hanging corpes of long dead pirates shown from the bear bones and the rags they had on. A sign hung beside them warning "Pirates, ye be warned". In honor, Jack took off his hat and placed it along his heart, showing some respect and tapping his head with his fingers showing how it was a bit of a over kill.

They approached the port along with other boats and ships supplying themselves for their next journey. People stared at the two as if they were two lunatics.

Well to some point they were

Jack had joined Echo atop the miniature crows nest. The boat was now sinking into the harbor water and when the reached a dock the both set foot without a care, walking away when they hears a voice. "wha-? Hold up there you two!" Echo groaned as they both turned around. The docksman speedily walked to them. "It's a shilling to tie up your boat to the dock." They looked back to the sunken bot that was deemed. useless now. "- And I shall need to know the owners name." Jack reached into his pocket, a few things jingling and pulled out three coins. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the names" Jack placed the coins on the book he held. The dockman though about it for a moment and the boy beside him shrugged his shoulders. He closed the book encasing the coins and greeted "Welcome to port royal Mr and Miss Smith". The two walked away bouting to turn the corner when Echo snatched a small pouch standing on a podium shacking the bag.

The town was buzzing. People all around gossiped and chatted about the ceremony announcing to the rising of the soon to be Commodore Norrington along with is proposal to the governors daughter. Music could be heard playing in the background well as marching. they made their way to under the docks to see a nearby boat. An upgrade from their previous accommodations. Two guards rushed in front of them, blocking off the path way to the boat. "This dock is off-limits to civilians." Im terribly sorry. I didn't know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately." Jack regarded and tried to walk pass but they blocked him once more and Jack raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps there's some high-toned and fancy to-do at the fort, eh?"

""How could it be that two upstanding genteel men such as yourselves did not merit an invitation?" Echo said in a tone entrancing the men abit. "W-We have to make sure this dock stays off-limits to the civilians miss." Murtogg spoke fixing himself. "It's a fine goal to be sure, but it seems to me a ship like that-" Jack began again and the men moved again "makes this one here a bit superfluous, really." He said pointing at a ship that was not too far off in the distance. "Ah, the Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough" "But no ship can match the Intercepter for speed" The Mullroy. "I've" heard of one. It's suppose to be fast, nigh uncatchable"

"The Black Pearl"

Echo whispered. The men look to each other and the first man laughs. "There's no real ship as can match the Intercepter" The Mullroy looks at him. "The Black Pearl is a real ship"Mullroy continues to laugh. "No. No it's not" "Yes it is. I've seen it" Murtogg The second defends. "You've seen it?" "yes". The two continue to argue in front of the pair as Jack rolled his eyes a bit. "So you've seen a ship with black sails, that's crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out." "No" "-But I have seen a ship with black sails." Echo slowly stepped away to the boat the were once guarding and Jack was close after. After they finished one man said

"Like I said, there's no real ship that can match the speed of the Intercep-" When he went too look back at the two he realize they weren't sending there anymore. They looked to the ship and saw Jack at the wheel examining it and Echo just standing off a bit. They quickly ran to the ship with their guns point

"Hey! You!"

Jack looked over with an exaggeratedly look of innocents and surprise with his hands resting on the wheel. They ran across the connecting ramp pointing their guns threateningly at them. "Get away from there! You don't have permission to be aboard there, mate!" Mullroy warns. "I'm sorry, it's just, it's such a pretty boat- ship!" He corrects himself holding his hand. "Whats your name?" Murtogg demanded. "Smith. Or Smithy if you like. Then little ladies name is Vivian." Jack explained waving his hands. "Whats your business in Port Royal, 'Mr. Smith' ?" "Yeah, and no lies!" Murtogg added.

"Well then. We confess." Echo sighed dramatically.

"It is our intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer our measly black guts out."

" I said no lies"

"I think they're telling the truth."

"If they were telling the truth he wouldn't have told us"

"Unless of course, we knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if they told it to you."

______________________

Buy me a Ko-Fi!

If you buy me a Ko-Fi I'll be sure to give you a shoutout. Just tell me your account

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #pirates #yo ho ho #oc #jack sparrow x you #x reader #jack sparrow x reader #William turner #elizabeth swann #pirates x reader #pirates of the carribean x reader

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apricuscity · 2 years

Text

Revolution Day Speeches, Part Two

Damien Styles: Union President, Resource Workers United

Styles walked up to the podium and held his baseball cap up in the air, flashing the bold red letters to the camera. Most knew the routine by now. “See this hat? What does it say!?”

“It says BOSS!” The Union workers in the crowd roared.

“What does it mean!?”

“It means you’re in charge!”

He puts the hat back on his head. “Damn right it does. I won’t worry about any other introductions. You pay your utilities; you know who I am- you’re welcome. You already know about what we’ve been doing last year. This year, I want to bring up something.”

“We still don’t have Hades yet. Believe me, I’m upset too. No empty promises from me, people- we’re getting serious now. The avalanche that hit Yard 6 over the winter came out of nowhere and our mining head just finished his survey. That thing was triggered. No points for guessing who.” He waits for the murmuring in the crowd to stop. When it didn’t, he held his hand up to the mircophone and the magnetic feedback caused a harsh shriek. “CALM DOWN! You’re talking to professionals here! I already have a plan. My promise this year is to make absolutely sure we don’t see that shit again. The Union is going to be having a trip up into the mountains to see what else we can find. We’ll be taking volunteers but ONLY the ones who make the cut. If you can’t handle the cold, don’t show up. If you can’t handle the mountains, don’t show up. If you’re afraid the dark, heights, or tight spaces, don’t show up. If you think this is going to be easy, don’t show up. If you think you’ve got what it takes, talk to Axton Walsh as soon as possible. We’re leaving no stone unturned and paying that bastard back for every life he stole. Styles out.”

------

Lucianna Markella: High Priestess of the Consecration of Creation

“Creation bless you all this Revolution Day.” The High Priestess was looking slightly disoriented from being that close to Styles’ magnetic shenanigans but was shaking it off well enough even after taking a moment to hold her head under her large mitre. “As you know, the tragedy that befell Smokey Gardens fell to the rest of the city to come together and help our fellow man. Truly, we were being smiled on that day. The Church can offer little in the ways of material comforts, but we keep the soul of this city alive. To that end, I would like to thank the rest of the council for helping with a grand new project. Mayor Lowell will tell you all about it. Rest assured our acolytes and priests are working tirelessly to aid the efforts. As ever, the Consecration’s doors are open to all who seek comfort and guidance without the need for membership or the pressure to purchase anything. We hope to continue to set a shining example moving forward.”

-----

Tyrael Cheshire: CEO of Cheshire Financial Group

“Greetings. Last year’s financing of incoming foreign business has shown quite a lot of success despite some... difficulties at several of the events. However, I can assure you that the matters are still being looked into and I would like to personally extend my thanks to all the bounty hunters who helped prevent catastrophe at last year’s charity gathering. In light of this, I have extended a sizable portion of funding to a introductory training program for up and coming bounty hunters taught by some of the best in the field. As a former bounty hunter myself, I will be among those who will take on a small handful of students personally. As you know, I have always valued the potential of the next generation. This will come at no charge to you, but do understand that the slots will be few and quite in demand. We cannot guarantee entry for everyone. Please, send your inquiries to my business office.”

------

Flavian Lowell: Mayor of Apricus City

“Let’s hear it for the council, ladies and gentlemen!” The Mayor waited for any possible applause to die down. “Now I’m sure you’re all ready to get on with the rest of the festivities but we have one more announcement to make! As you may have seen there’s a new building being constructed in Capitol Square, right next to the main rail station. That, my good people, is an answer to the natural disasters that have hit us so recently. Every single member of the council pitched in to make it happen. May I present the opening of the Apricus City Home of Rebuilding- a council-funded shelter for victims of tragedy. Here people can stay in a safe place while they find new homes, jobs, or a place to rest should the unthinkable befall them or their loved ones. We hope to expand this to other public service as well. That said! The city is looking for volunteers and the council’s various organizations are hiring to manage its various aspects. Remember, this will be run largely by donation and while the council has pitched a substantial amount, we will be giving you, the people, and opportunity to also contribute. For any amount you donate to the shelter, you’ll receive some discounts and coupons for multiple businesses who have contributed. We hope this becomes a major stepping stone in helping our fellow citizens.

“Words cannot adequately describe how proud I am of every single one of you. It is the privilege of a lifetime to be your mayor. Now let’s ring in this Revolution Day!”

#apricuscity #Flavian Lowell #Tyrael Cheshire #Lucianna Markella #Damien Styles #Revolution Day

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tumbling-darkling · 3 years

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The boy who lived and the professor that didn’t (for the most part)

AO3

During Harry's second year at Hogwarts, a strange and unexpected man starts teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

(A Danny Phantom X Harry Potter crossover)

Chapter 1

Harry took a seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, glancing over to Ron who sat beside him and then scanning the classroom for their new DA professor. He already met the man in Diagon Alley, blonde and very much interested in only himself. Harry shivered as he remembered being pushed towards him as people took pictures of the famous wizard and the boy who lived.

At least it wasn’t worse than a head of the dark lord growing out of the back of the professor's neck.

Well- Harry did thumb through some of the textbooks before classes started. He absolutely agreed with Hermione who was very vocal about the books- they didn’t actually seem to teach anything. Just spoke about the ‘many adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart’.

Maybe this will just end up being an easy class.

The door slammed open 15 minutes past the start of class, startling the students as they swiveled their heads to look at the newcomer, expecting Gilderoy Lockhart.

Instead a tall man with a slim frame and hunched posture strode into the room. He had messy black hair pulled in a very horrible and tangled loose bun with the remaining dreads lazily dangling at the man's shoulders, his chin and cheeks covered in unshaven stubble. His robe was creased and torn, his hat loosely hanging from his hand and his sleeves pushed almost all the way up his arms. What really caught people’s attention was those eyes. Unnaturally clear and bright icy blue, so blue that even in the bright light they seemed to slightly glow.

He quickly pulled down his sleeves as he walked past the students towards the front of the room, grumbling slightly under his breath about something Harry couldn’t catch. He tossed the hat aside, muttering more loudly about how ‘wizard hats are so stupid and impractical I’m not wearing that garbage’ before he turned towards the class.

“My name is Fenton- er Professor Fenton I guess. Since I’ll be teaching you about…” he glanced down at the podium he stood in front of, crouching a little as if looking for something before straightening back up. “Defense… Against the… Dark… Arts,” he said slowly and not very confidently. Then he whispered again to himself but just loud enough for some students to pick up, “they see me fight one god damn ghost and suddenly I’m an expert on all dark magic entities? I think I’ll fight Dumbledore after this.” He straightened a little, eyes looking over the classes.

Harry did not like those eyes lingering on him for half a second longer than the others. He didn’t like this professor looking at him at all.

Something just didn’t feel right.

“Alright, any questions?”

A hand immediately went up, and Harry knew exactly who it belonged to.

“Uh- yes miss-?”

“Hermione Granger. Wasn’t our professor supposed to be Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“Yeah- that guy. He’s a phoney.”

The class went silent before someone yelled out, “WHAT?”

“Guy went around, found Wizards and Witches that did cool things, made them forget it then took all the credit. Tried to take my credit and I hit him a little too hard. Now I’m here taking his place. It’s all over the news, you know. You can read the exaggerated details in there. Anything else?”

The same hand went up.

Professor Fenton sighed, “yes?”

“Why were you 15 minutes late? Shouldn’t professors be on time? And why do you look like you crawled out of the forbidden forest.”

“I fought a ghost. Then got lost,” Fenton deadpanned.

The class went silent.

Fenton then turned around, “well if that’s all, let’s get started with something I know a lot about. What do you already know about Ghosts?”

“You’re seriously more afraid of Professor Fenton than Professor Snape?” Hermione asked Ron. “He’s not even mean! Sure he’s grumpy but he doesn’t beat down every question I ask him! He even seems to be glad I’m asking questions! Unlike Professor Snape who just treats us like idiots for not knowing something.”

“Sure- he’s not mean or cruel but… he just freaks me out. Like how he just stares sometimes at empty walls! Or how the room temperature always drops the moment he seems to take a single step into the room! I can’t even hear his footsteps when he walks! He’s bloody freaky is what he is!”

“Well I for one am glad he’s our Professor! Imagine having a phony for a professor! Though he talks a lot about ghosts. Ghosts can’t cause people harm. At most they give a little scare but it’s not like they could cause terrible damage.”

“What about those ectoplasm based ones he was talking about? The solid ones?” Harry asked.

“Rare and unlikely. Ectoplasm doesn’t form in the magical world, Harry! The stuff that leaks through and hangs in the air is only enough to allow ghosts like Nick or Myrtle to hang around in harmless ways.”

“But he said he fought a ghost before he arrived in class! And he looked really beat up!”

“He said he got lost too! Maybe he just stumbled across a guard dog like Fluffy and made up something about ghosts!”

“What if it’s like the last professor though? What if he’s looking for another secret object in Hogwarts walls?” Harry hissed softly, “Ron is right that he just has a sense of oddness about him! I just don’t trust him!”

“Harry, you’re just paranoid from last year. Professor Fenton is normal. Now pick up your pace, we’re going to be late for our next class!”

Professor Fenton glanced down at Harry, then back at Professor McGonagall, “he has what with me?”

“Detention. You see, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley caused a bit of a fuss by driving a flying car in plain sight of several muggles, and risked exposing the magical world. As such, his punishment has been detention. I trust you can find some fitting work for him to do as he reflects on his actions?”

Fenton crosses his arms, his mouth tightening slightly into a grimace as his fingers slightly tapped his own arms. “This won’t be every night, will it?” He asked.

“No, we will be switching supervisors for a few weeks but you may also need to supervise Mr. Weasley sometime before then.”

Fenron let out a sigh of defeat, “well- alright. I’ll take care of it then.”

Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod before turning stiffly and walking off. Professor Fenton scratched at the back of his neck as he watched her walk off, then glanced down at Harry, those eyes seeming to search him for… something. Then that stern look relaxed into a lopsided grin, “So you were the one that made that stuck up ministry trip over their hats and scramble around in blind panic! I say, hats off to you young Potter!” He laughed.

Harry blinked in confusion at the shift in mood, then Fenton patted him on the back, “hey, no need to look so freaked out! I’m not gonna bite ya!” He began walking forward, and it took Harry an extra second to realize that the professor was moving and he should follow. “Oh, wait you probably are a little freaked out, huh? I guess my mood could have been a bit better this morning, I was just a little flabbergasted today. I was kinda rushed into this position, you know.” He shrugged, his hands shoved into his cloak’s pockets. He didn’t really walk like any of the other Hogwarts professors. He had this relaxed saunter, like he was more of a visiting relative than a staff member. “Say, let’s say your ‘punishment’ will just be helping me bring some books from the library to my quarters. There’s a lot I need to run through and a single trip would make all the difference.”

Harry nodded, finding it hard to keep up with the man's long strides. “So… you don’t like the ministry of magic?” Harry asked.

Professor Fenton huffed in annoyance, “not one bit. They are almost worse than observants!” Harry had no idea what those were. Another level of magic government? “They try to control every little thing. Don’t expose magic to the normal world. Don’t use magic to make technology without permission. Don’t use magic to save muggle children if people are watching.” His said in a mocking tone, “they have so many rules that are outdated or stupid. Never trust a government, kid! Especially a magical one!”

“What are… observants?”

Fenton glanced down at Harry, “oh those stuck up jerks? They are like the government of the ghost realm. Really annoying. Unlike the Ministry of Magic, they actually know how to find me!” He laughed.

“Ghosts have governments?”

“Oh yeah! They have more of a monarchy, the observants are like hermit wizards that only step in when they believe the world is in peril. Meanwhile the rest falls on the shoulders of the Ghost King.”

Harry frowned, “I’ve never read about that in the textbooks. Hermione says that ghosts are just harmless beings formed from souls that aren’t ready to leave the mortal realm.”

“Well she’s half right. There’s different kinds of ghosts, like Sir Nicolas and the Bloody Baron. They are more like echoes. Souls that cling desperately to this world but didn’t have enough ectoplasm to become a fully solid ectoplasmic being. They won’t leave for the infinite realms until they are ready, though many believe they are trapped here forever. More solid ghosts form in a similar way but are exposed to more ectoplasm, but rarely show up because natural portals to the infinite realms are sparse and in between. Well until about a decade ago.”

“Infinite Realms? Natural Portals?” Harry felt like his head was going to explode.

“Well, there should be some books about that in the muggle section.. Though some wizards would say it’s all garbage because muggles discovered and studied it. Just look up my name under the author and you should find some.”

“Oh… wait- did you write them? Is that why you know so much about ghosts?”

Professor Fenton barked out a loud laugh, doubling over as he clutched his sides, “Ah! No! No, I didn’t write them! My parents did!” He cackled. “Ah, yeah but I did learn from them. And a bit of field work. Tell Miss Granger to check them out too, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having something to read. She reminds me of my sister in that way.” He stopped in front of the library doors, “Aha! I knew we would find this place eventually!”

Harry looked at Professor Fenton in bewilderment, “you didn’t know where we were going?!”

Fenton shook his head and shot him another grin, “nope! I’ve been constantly getting lost in these dumb halls. This place constantly moves and I absolutely hate it. Even the Infinite Realms make more sense than this castle!”

Harry stuttered, “If the infinite realms is where ghosts go, isn’t that like… the afterlife? You’ve been to the afterlife?”

Professor Fenton lazily shrugged and opened the doors to the library, “yes and no. It’s all complicated. I’ll tell you a different time.”

Harry stood there for a few more seconds as his brain tried to catch up with the information, and once he managed to close his mouth he chased after the Professor.

Harry glanced around the Professors room as he followed after him, arms filled with books that seemed to suspiciously be only about the Dark Arts. He’d never been to a professor's living quarters, at most he had been in some offices. Even so, it was not at all what he imagined a wizard's living quarters would look like.

First off, there seemed to be technology. He recognized a coffee machine on a low table, but it wasn’t plugged into anything. There was an odd box that looked like a slightly smaller television, it’s screen black and wires sticking out of it attached to a rectangular box with a lot of buttons on top of it and a small round device. There was also a radio, and a huge telescope leaning out the largest window. As Harry looked, he began to notice spaceships literally in every corner of the room. Different kinds as well, some would even move and blast off. The most amazing part was the roof of his room. It was almost exactly like the great hall as it rose into dark nothingness, but the stars were MUCH brighter and all the constellations had been traced out, some brighter than others. For someone who knew a lot about ghosts, he seemed to really like space. Then there were also some odd things thrown around, like a very weird looking thermos. Or a metal… boomerang?

“Just place them over here, Harry!” Fenton called as he dropped his pile of books onto a couch in the corner. Harry did as he was told, placing the books down a little more gently than the professor did.

“Professor… how did you get these things to work? Technology usually… explodes around magic,” Harry asked.

“Oh! Well it’s because I power them myself!” Professor Fenton chirped. “They don’t work the same way as regular technology. Again, I recommend checking out some of the notes in the Fentons books, they have a lot of stuff that works in the magical realm.”

“Why would you need it though? Doesn’t magic make up for a lot of technology?” Harry asked.

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong you see! There is nothing in the magical world that is equivalent to the coffee machine!”

Harry blinked, “... what.”

“It’s a very important machine, Harry. You will depend greatly on it once you need to stay up for an entire week. But! It seems our time together has come to an end. Thanks for your help, Harry, and if McGonagall asks, tell her I made you scrub toilets or something,” he winked.

Harry grinned back, heading towards the doorway to go find Ron and Hermione. He closed the door behind and the moment it clicked shut, he saw a flash appear from under the door.

He paused slightly, but shrugged. Maybe a comet passed by on the enchanted roof of his room. He then headed down the halls to find his friends.

“Not normally invited?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, “Ghosts throw death day parties like birthday parties, but rarely do they ever invite living people!”

“I see, so Sir Nick really wanted us to be there,” Harry pondered as the trio entered the party area. He immediately was hit with an awful stench, nearly gagging before he had to swallow it as Sir Nicholas noticed their arrival and approached swiftly with the widest smile they had ever seen on his face.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione! You all made it! Oh this brings such joy to my cold, dead heart!”

“Glad to see you as well, Sir Nick,” Harry struggled not to gag on the smell.

“Say, why do ghosts even celebrate the day they died? Isn’t that… like a very traumatic experience you would rather not remember?” Ron somehow managed to ask.

“Well, ghosts like to celebrate it to commodirate a start to a new chapter of our afterlife!” He paused, glancing across the room for a split second, “most ghosts that is, and the death day isn’t to remind us of our death. It more serves to encourage us to look forward! No one really wants to remember how we died. Never a pretty picture.”

Harry followed Nicholas’s gaze for the split second glance, then noticed a ghost he had never seen before. He ignored the smell (they would have to ask about that later) and nudged Hermione, pointing at the ghost, “hey Hermione, have you ever seen that ghost around the castle before? I don’t remember seeing him from last year…”

The ghost in question seemed so much stranger than the rest, he had a brighter glow, where he should have had legs, merged into what seemed to be a ghostly tail, drifting lazily like caught in a breeze. Long hair whiter than snow itself drifted around like caught underwater, and bits that weren’t drifting were braided neatly and lost in the rest of it as it constantly moved. The ghost had purple skin, pointed ears, green freckles dotting his cheeks and long sharp fangs showing as he laughed at another ghost's joke. He dressed like a medieval lord, wearing a delicately detailed black and white tunic tucked into a braided belt circling his waist, his ghostly tail completely black. Thick white leather gloves covered both his hands as he waved them around while he spoke. A white cape hung off his shoulders, but when the cape occasionally drifted to show the inside, it was like the ghost had taken the night sky and attached it to the garment. Thick fur wrapped around his shoulders and long and sharp horns that looked like ice circled his head like a crown.

Toxic green eyes that had irises that seemed to swirl around the pupil glanced at the trio and Harry suddenly felt very very small.

“I… don’t know. I haven’t even heard of any ghost that looked like him before,” Hermione seemed like she was at a loss, probably scouting through her thoughts and memories for any trace or mention of the unfamiliar ghost.

Sir Nicholas cut in, “oh! That may be because King Phantom doesn’t live in this castle! He’s mainly only here to visit for the year!”

Ron gapped, “... did you say… king? Was he a king before he died?”

Sir Nicholas frowned, “no, of course not! He’s the king of all ghosts! King of the infinite realms! The one who defeated Pariah Dark in single combat barely a year after he died! The youngest and most beloved king we ghosts have had in such a very long time.”

“There’s a king of ghosts? And that’s him?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I just said, my dear boy. Keep up!”

“I don’t want to seem rude, Sir Nicholas but… why is he here?” Hermione gasped, “if he really is such a powerful and imposing figure, doesn’t he have a lot of duties to fulfil?”

“Well, he told us he was technically here on business but that it requires time and an investigation that could take a few months. So he could visit and celebrate with us from time to time! He’s a very relaxed man, I assure you. Here let me introduce you all to him! My Liege! I have some friends you absolutely must meet!”

The King looked over and smiled widely, “friends, you say?” His voice echoed more than the other ghosts, seeming to carry across the room as he spoke. He then blinked in surprise and turned to Nick, “Sir Nicholas… you realize these three are still amongst the living?”

“Why of course! Harry is the Boy Who Lived! The first to survive the death spell!” Sir Nicholas said quite proudly.

The King drifted down towards the three, causing Ron to slightly flinch at his approach, his hands clasped together as worry seemed to etch on his face, “well, most ghosts don’t have a very good sense of smell or taste, right? Which is why we have all the rotting food out?”

“Yes?” Sir Nicholas still didn’t seem to catch on.

King Phantom held out his hand, producing clothing hanger clips made purely of ice, “The living can still very much smell and taste, and I don’t think it’s exactly the smell of roses and lavender.”

Sir Nicholas blinked, “oh. Oh! Oh Harry and friends, I apologize for forgetting such a detail!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all graciously accept the clips, pinning them on their noses to escape the horrid smell. Then Hermione turned towards the Ghost King with a glint in her eyes, “wait- how did you do that? Ghosts aren’t this solid- and they definitely can’t use magic!”

Phantom chuckled, drifting back into the air as he pointed to the crown of ice horns on his head, “Well first off, I’m the king so I get some bonuses. As well as not all ghosts work the same. You should try listening to that Dark Arts professor of yours when he talks about ghosts. He’s quite knowledgeable about all things not living.”

“But- but years of documentation and research-!” Hermione tried to argue before the King tutted.

“Information is constantly changing and growing, something that seems pretty constant could change in seconds and turn your whole world upside down. Not to mention, many different types of ghosts like myself only became more common recently. Before, most of us were confined to the infinite realms, only ghosts like Sir Nicholas forming for many centuries and the different kinds rarely slipped out.”

“Well-, what changed?” Hermione challenged.

King Phantom sported a playful grin, “I d̶͙͉̓̓i̷̢̩̬̘̟̽ę̴̘̲̹̤͌̊d̸̢̳̞̄.”

He then turned and left the three on that note as he went to join other ghosts at the party.

“What does he mean by that?” Hermione huffed.

“He’s got an odd sense of humour, that’s for sure,” Sir Nicholas laughed.

Harry couldn’t stop his glare that shot towards Professor Snape as he accused Harry of petrifying Mrs. Norris and writing the bloody message that stained the wall. Before he could snap back at him that he did not do any of this, Professor Fenton seemed to almost step out of thin air to his defense.

“Mr. Potter was with me all night, he did not do this,” his voice laced with a chilling venom. Was he… lying for him?

Snape tilted his chin up, attempting to look down on Fenton who was no longer hunched, and instead stood tall at his full height. It was quite difficult to do as it turned out, Fenton towered over every other Professor in the area. “And who, pray tell, are you?” Snape seemed to almost spit.

A sinister grin spread across the tall Professor's features as he stepped in front of Harry, leaning menacingly over the shorter wizard and blocking his view of the student, “Professor Fenton, the professor of the Dark Arts. Accusing a second year of such a powerful spell isn’t a very wise take, now is it Professor Snape?” Fenton basically spat his name.

Snape glared back, “you would be surprised what Potter is capable of, especially the trouble he gets himself in.”

“How about you try not pinning the blame on a 12 year old child?”

“That is enough out of both of you,” Dumbledore stepped in. “We all know Harry was not responsible for this, as Professor Fenton’s defence is true. We have a healthy patch of mandrake roots that will cure Mrs. Norris of her petrification, and students will resume their classes while the professors investigate the issue. Now you three will return to your dorms for the rest of the night.”

Harry hesitated before he headed back towards the dorms, but didn’t fail to notice how Professor Fenton’s eyes flashed toxic green, or the wink sent in his direction.

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angelictrl · 3 years

Note

hii can i request headcanons for shin being around and then being asked out by his crush ? thanks !!

SHIN BEING AROUND AND THEN CONFESSED TO BY HIS CRUSH.

enjoy the long read n lmk if this wasn’t what you wanted ! i can redo with a non death game au !! also goddamn it, i realized i kin the bastard man. my dumb ass was like “huh ? how is this so in character ?” then i realized i projected wayyyy too much and . kinnie moment besties !!11! 😀✌

WARNING ;; spoilers, spoilers, SPOILERS - up to chapter 2 p2 - and angst 🤙

SHIN TSUKIMI/SOU HIYORI

at first, he’s not sure how to go about getting a crush. i mean, you guys are in a death game, he can’t go getting attached to people like this. especially not in a romantic context ... he’s got to do everything in his power to stay away from you. that’s the key to survival.

in the beginning, he’s polite and even a bit playful, being awfully keen on giving you compliments here and there, but he tries desperately to keep you at an arm’s length despite his friendly act.

being thrusted into the death game was an eye opener for him, and he became a lot more hypervigilant and paranoid due to it. thanks to this, he quickly takes note of his feelings and acknowledges them, but that doesn’t mean that he accepts them. at least, not willingly.

when his “true nature” is revealed during the main game, he’ll disregard his feelings for you and rope you in with the others. after all, he’s the one with the lowest percentage. at least you even have a higher score - no matter what it might be - and at this point, he’s mainly running on jealousy and frustration as everyone turns their back on him for being cautious.

if you dare to try and come comfort him during and/or after the trial, he’ll smile sweetly at you, but his words and tone won’t match his expression.

“... you’re quite the stubborn one, aren’t you, mx y/n ? i don’t see how you could be so cheerful and reliant on others in our situation. after all, people are dropping like flies all around us. joe, kai, and professor mishima are all examples of this. aren’t you scared ? ... no ? because ... you have allies ? ... phft. ahaha, that’s funny ... ! sure ... believe what you will naively, but know that in the end, everyone here wants to survive no matter what. and i know that you’re no exception, so stop pretending.”

and then he’ll stare into your eyes blankly, the feeling of resentment strong in his presence no matter your response or expression before swiftly leaving you to ponder on his belittling tone and harsh words.

on a lighter note, he gets extremely nervous around you, but he won’t let it show. the only thing that really does out him is the way that his palms get really sweaty as he begins overheating in his bundles of clothing along with his faint blush coating the tips of his ears, but luckily his beanie covers it up for him.

he’s really pale, so if you’re the type to tease him, he’ll act grumpy so that the red in his face looks as if he's agitated with you. he’ll even throw in an irritated sigh and huff occasionally, but he’s really just shy and not sure how to respond in the situation you two are in.

during the attractions, he subconsciously makes excuses to convince himself to go partner up with you, always trying to point out the qualities you have that would “benefit him so that he could win dilligently.”

normally, he’d go with kanna, but when it’s a more dangerous attraction, he shoos her away saying that “she’d only get in his way because she’s so weak” - not that he’s any stronger himself, but, y’know the deal.

times like these, you’re his go-to partner, and he’ll even scold you sometimes ? like what ??? but whatever, the dude’s trying to show his concern for you discreetly.

“aha, careful now, mx y/n. if you keep accepting these invitations from me so eagerly, who knows when i’ll manipulate you next or leave you to die in an attraction ? you shouldn’t trust so easily. even worse ... i might just think you’ve begun to fall in love with me ... just kidding. now, let’s begin, shall we ? after you.”

you could consider doing an attraction with him like a date. a very life-threatening and anxiety-inducing date. he’s not all too strong, but he has a strong premonition, and will make sure you don’t end up getting hurt.

he’s also a lot more smart than the people in your group give him credit for - he’s not just some rude bastard - plus, he tries to lighten the mood when he sees you panicking by trying to cheer you up.

“hey, mx y/n ... don’t seem so pale as if you’ve just seen a ghost, now. we’re almost done, so stop thinking about how far we have left to go and think about how far we’ve gotten.”

if you manage to get hurt anyhow, he’ll silently sit you down in the medical room with safalin and treat your injury himself with a sincere and fixated gaze. it’s a very intimate moment and a rare sight of his true self being exposed before he flashes you his iconic smile afterwards. he’ll jokingly tell you to stop being such a klutz before taking his leave.

nearing the end of the attractions to the subgame is when you ask him out, and he couldn’t feel more conflicted. i mean, hell, he’s fucking in love with you, but it’s at the worst time and in the worst place. though, there’s no good time or place to confess in this hellhole.

he’ll look like a fish out of water searching for words before begrudgingly looking around to make sure no one else is nearby, sighing deeply when the coast is clear. he’ll even take his beanie off his head and ruffle his hair, holding that damn hat to his chest before gazing at you sincerely.

“... mx y/n ... i do ... really like you - that’s the honest truth - but i don’t think being in a relationship at the moment is the best idea. if our feelings get out ... it could be used against us by anyone, and i wouldn’t want that ... for either of us. but - please ... don’t look so down ... when this is all over, i would love to go on a date with you.”

after he shows you the real him, shin, he’ll give you a short and inexperienced yet tender kiss, blushing evidently before snuggly fitting his beanie back on his head and wishing you goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.

he doesn’t dare remind you that he has a O.O% chance of surviving so all a relationship with him would do would break your heart. internally, he struggles with some conflict that you deserve better and he should’ve just been harsher to push you away and get over him, but something about you just turns him to putty in your hands and he can’t help it. you’re dangerous.

it also doesn’t stop him from occasionally pulling you aside when nobody is near and kissing you like it’s his last moments. which ... sadly enough, isn’t honestly far-fetched.

during the next main game, his feelings are hell to experience. despite how much he goes on and on trying to push you away to the public eye and make suspicious remarks, you just keep. coming. back. like a stray dog being fed by every flirtatious remark and touch. it’d be a whole lot more cuter and endearing to him if he wasn’t in a death game fearing for his life.

you’ve grown on him. both you and kanna have leeched onto his heart and he has to come to terms with that. he’s always felt some kind of unspoken familial bond with kanna despite the way he treats her, and seeing you always hang out with her even when he’s not around since the two of them are usually inseperable has made him fall even deeper in love with you.

... and it’s pissing him off and wearing him thin.

as much as he tries to convince everyone to vote for him, kanna keeps insisting that she should be voted for instead because it's the only logical way to survive. he’s on the verge of a panic attack, and keeps having to grip his podium tightly from ripping his hair out.

the poor guy is heaving by now, thoughts of survival, kanna, and you, all spiraling as his balance teeters. he would’ve been swaying back and forth about to fall down had it not been for the podium supporting his weight.

god forbid you touch him in this moment. he wants nothing more than to bury his face into your chest or neck and let out all his trapped emotions, but damn it, he doesn’t want you to worry about him. all that matters anyhow is that kanna lives.

“please, y/n, please, vote for me. i’m begging you. i’ll just die anyway.”

the next two votes for you and sara are in your hands, and regardless of your vote(s), there’s a O.O% chance of you getting your happy ending.

yttd masterlist.

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Buckle Bunny

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 2,582

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

You were bribed (AKA you lost a bet) into going to a local rodeo and being a Buckle Bunny. Unbeknownst to you, a mildly bored Jack Daniels is waiting in the crowd. Unbeknownst to Jack, the buckle bunny he’s smooth talking is a whole lot more than meets the eye.

“I am not wearing this!” You shouted, flinging the hat at your laughing best friend. “I am wearing my own hat.”

Elle, still doubled over with laughter, took the shitty hat from you, gesturing to Harmony to pass over your actual cowboy hat. You settled the brown hat on your head, sighing.

About a month ago, Elle had made a stupid bet with you, who could stomach one of Harmony’s ridiculously frilly pink drinks the longest. You’d puked first, and therefore lost the bet. Elle’s reward? She demanded you attend your next rodeo as a buckle bunny.

“I hate you,” you growled, wiggling in your tiny shorts. “This is embarrassing! I am competing today.”

“I told you that you can absolutely put on real clothes when you compete,” Elle said, handing you your boots. “But until then, I want you to get some numbers! Find you a nice sugar daddy or something.”

You reached behind you to smack a squealing Elle, Harmony almost falling off the bed with how much she was laughing.

“We’re gonna be late,” Harmony said finally, standing and saving Elle from your wrath. “Come on.”

The drive to the rodeo was quiet, with you sulking in the backseat. Buckle bunnies were often the bane of your existence, and now you had to pretend to be one.

The rodeo was, as expected, crowded. The fair was also in town, and between the rides and the rodeo, there were hundreds of people gathered in what was once an empty field.

“Just find a hot cowboy and go flirt relentlessly!” Elle said as she walked off to find the funnel cake. “Have fun!”

You gave her a middle finger, tried to pull your shorts down yet again, and headed off.

Wandering was easy. The fair and rodeo were your playground, and you knew every corner of the space, from the rigged games to the mildly unstable Ferris wheel.

“Well hey there little lady,” a voice drawled beside you as you finally decided to grab something to eat. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ all the way out here?”

Resisting the urge to gag, you turned, seeing an unfairly attractive man raising his eyebrows at you. He was stupidly good looking and dressed like a southerner, but not a full blooded cowboy. The hat looked authentic enough though.

“Oh,” you said, trying to act ditzy. “Just wanted to see what the commotion was. It’s so hot!”

The man grinned, taking off his sunglasses and revealing blazingly amazing brown eyes. In the sun, they looked whiskey gold. “Well, I’m Jack.”

You gave him your name, looking wistfully at the food truck. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want somethin’?”

Jack shrugged. “Might as well.”

You two stood beside each other as the line moved up, until you were ordering your good luck charm, a shamrock green cup of shaved ice. It was margarita and spearmint flavored, aptly nicknamed the Mojito, despite not having a drop of alcohol.

Jack took a minute, but finally ordered a plain cherry cup of shaved ice. He beat you to the register, winking as he paid.

“I could’ve paid,” you pouted, taking a bite of your shaved ice and immediately feeling a reprieve from the blistering heat.

“You could’ve,” Jack agreed. “But you didn’t.”

Snorting in a likely unflattering way, you led Jack towards the rodeo portion of the field. “So. What’re you here for, cowboy?”

Jack smiled. “The rodeo, of course. Got the day off of work. Figured I’d relax the way my dad used to.”

You smiled. Jack was surprisingly more likable than you’d expected. You and him found a spot in the mostly empty bleachers around the rodeo ring and just talked. The metal of the bleachers burned your thighs, but you ignored it in favor of staring at Jack.

He was gentle with you, happily explaining rodeo terms you’d known since before you could walk. You pretended to be entirely clueless, keeping up the buckle bunny act. You’d almost told him about the dare, but then the thought of him seeing the supposedly dumb bunny getting a nearly perfect saddle bronc score was too good to pass up.

When an announcer called all the competitors to the tent, you jumped up, checking your watch. “Oh goodness, is that the time? My daddy’s gonna kill me!”

Jack chuckled, standing as well. “Sure you can’t stay? The show’s about to start.”

You shook your head. “Sorry cowboy, daddy’s super strict. See you!” You planted a kiss on his cheek and winked as you walked away.

Jogging to the competitor’s tent, you immediately checked in and detoured to the bathroom. Putting on proper pants, a button down shirt, a shamrock green vest, your belt and leg covers, and your spurs, you rushed out to join the other competitors, nodding to men you’d competed with all your life. This wasn’t a real competition, it was mostly just for fun and entertainment, so you weren’t worried about the competitors being nasty. In fact, some of them grinned and clapped your back in greeting, as if you’d been the best of friends for years.

Turning your attention to the blathering announcer, you tuned in just as he announced the saddle bronc. You were second to last, with only five people before you.

Those five people went and were judged loosely, and then they were leading you to the horse you’d be riding. It wasn’t your horse, no, your horse was waiting for the timed events. Saddle bronc was the only roughstock event you rode, and boy was it worth the risk.

Situating your spurs above the chestnut horse’s shoulders, you gripped the bronc rein tied to the horse’s bridle with one hand and secured your hat one last time with the other.

Just like that, a buzzer was sounding, and you were off, jolting around wildly as the chestnut tried to throw you off. But between your hand and your thighs, you weren’t going anywhere. The chestnut kept kicking, and you moved with him, back and forth and back and forth like a wave, your free hand occasionally touching your hat to keep it on your head, but it mostly stayed free, helping keep the balance. Your spurs dug into the chestnut’s shoulders and neck, just enough pressure to piss him off and keep him kicking, but not too much, lest you actually hurt the horse.

The chestnut whirled around, trying to throw you. You’d never ridden this horse before, but he was definitely a bucking horse, and knew as much about the job as you did.

Eventually, you were thrown from the chestnut’s back, hitting the dirt and rolling away from the horse so he didn’t hurt you.

You stood once it was safe, hearing cheers as you swept your hat from your head and bowed deeply, a triumphant grin on your face.

“And for competitor 6, a score of 90!”

It wasn’t your best, but you were extremely happy, bowing to the judges and walking off to go wait for the final competitor. As you waited, you looked over the events list. For the timed events, steer wrestling would be first, after the roughstock events finished. You didn’t compete in steer wrestling. Not because you couldn’t, but because, like the remaining two roughstock events, they were too rough on your body. You’d stick to the other events, thank you very much.

When the final competitor finished, they called everyone out to assess scores. A 90 was damn close to perfect, and if you were paying attention correctly, you’d won.

The small podium was painted with the traditional one, two, and three, and the announcer, a cowboy with a real buckle bunny by his side, began to announce scores.

Third place was a valiant 75. The buckle bunny placed the medal around his neck, grinning widely.

Second place was a damn good 85. He clapped your back as he jogged off to take his prize.

“In first place, competitor 6, with a score of 90!”

You walked to the podium, stepping up above the number one, bowing slightly so the buckle bunny could slip the medal around your neck. As you waved to the crowd, you put on your most natural smile and scanned the crowd for Jack, but it was too late. You were leaving to go wait out the rest of the events you weren’t in, unable to spot your mystery man.

Alone in the stables, you stroked down Lilac’s nose, humming to yourself. Lilac was your rodeo girl, speedy as hell and perfect when paired with you. She nudged into your shoulder, and you didn’t know it was a warning until you heard a voice behind you.

“And so it seems I was fooled.”

You turned, seeing Jack leaning against a wall.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the rodeo?” You asked. “I mean, that’s got to be more interesting than talking to a fake bunny.”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, but I ain’t here to talk to a fake bunny. I’m here for the real rodeo rider. That was impressive. How long have you been competing?”

“Since I was able to ride,” you admitted. “My dad used to put on fake competitions for me to practice in when I was six. Been doing rodeo events ever since.”

“Huh.” Jack drew closer. “Are you the bettin’ kind?”

Smirking, you took a step closer to him, so you were basically chest to chest. “That depends. What’re the stakes?”

“My phone number.”

You were definitely interested. “What must I do to obtain said number?”

Flicking the brim of your hat, Jack began to walk away, calling out over his shoulder, “Win the rest of your events.”

You snorted. Even without something as interesting as Jack’s prize on the line, you’d still probably win your events.

That didn’t stop you from being nervous. By the time they were calling the barrel racers out, you were a ball of anxiety. Lilac nudged into you, snorting as you stroked her nose.

You were set to go second out of the five competing, watching the competitor before you grab a decent score. Swinging up into Lilac’s saddle, you took a deep breath. Decent was good. Perfect was better.

The buzzer went off, and so did Lilac. Swinging immediately to the right barrel, you kept control, turning her in a hairpin turn, your knee just barely grazing the barrel. It remained upright, and you moved on. Lilac was going top speed, tightly turning the next barrel, you atop her, sure this time would break your personal best.

The third barrel was the final one, and it was perfection. You cued perfectly, Lilac turned perfectly, and then it was over.

“Competitor 2 with a time of 15.7 seconds!”

You laughed, adrenaline and joy coursing through you. Your personal best had been stubbornly stuck at 16.1 for months, but this had just shattered it.

In the end, you won the event, immediately moving on to the tie down. The last event.

You were first, Lilac nervously prancing behind the barrier as they brought out a calf. You’d been told all your life tie down events were cruel, and you agreed to a certain degree. But the way this rodeo did it, you were secure in the knowledge that the calf wasn’t getting hurt today. Not without severe consequences.

The countdown began, and you fiddled with your lasso. It was a familiar feeling, and you adjusted it just right, hearing the countdown reach zero. The calf took off, and two seconds after it, so did you.

Your first throw of the lasso was successful, grabbing the calf as you sprung off Lilac and felt her back up, giving you a tighter rope. You moved forward, grabbing the calf and flanking it in one swift movement. You took the end of the lasso and tied an expertly precise and incredibly fast three bone cross, securing the calf and hopefully, your win.

Your time was called. A 9.3. Not a personal best, but pretty damn close considering your best was an even 9 seconds.

The next few riders averaged around a 10, with someone nabbing a neat 9.5 that made your heart pound. And then, the final competitor.

Your blood chilled. Jack, atop a beautiful black horse, sat behind the barrier, adjusting his lasso. Leaning against the fence, you didn’t even blink as his calf raced out, and right behind the calf, him.

Suddenly, your original speculation of him being southern but not a cowboy was gone. He was picture perfect in that saddle, the lasso in his hands moving as if it were alive. He was good. Too good.

As he walked away from the calf, the announcer called his time, and your heart almost stopped.

He’d scored a 9.2.

He’d bested you by a tenth of a second.

Accepting your second place medal was hard. Standing next to Jack, you felt a bit bad for feeling so jealous. Jealousy wasn’t your color, so maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe you were just disappointed.

After the show, you packed up your three medals, two golds and a silver, and gave Lilac a pat as you handed her off to the stable hands. Leaving the stable, you looked around for Elle and Harmony, eager to get some funnel cake and play around with the horribly rigged games before the fireworks.

“Hello darlin’.”

The drawl made you turn. Jack grinned at you from the barn, and you walked over to him.

“Congrats,” you said, nodding to his gold medal. “That was impressive riding.”

“All part of the job,” Jack said, shrugging it off. “Anyway, I believe you earned your prize.”

You were shocked. “I didn’t, actually. I got silver. You won the last event.”

Jack smiled. “Ah, but two golds beats one, doesn’t it?”

He pulled out a pen, and you let him scrawl his number onto your hand. As he pocketed the pen, he tipped his hat to you and turned in the direction of a woman with short hair and a neat white button up who was apparently waiting for him. “By the way, green looks good on you!”

Jack walked away, making a ‘call me’ gesture as he disappeared into the crowd.

“What was that?” Elle yelled as he jumped on you from behind. “He was cute!”

Harmony was a bit nicer, squealing and grabbing your hand. “Jack Daniels,” she read. “Oh hell no, that is not his actual name!”

You yanked you hand back, smiling and taking a picture of the number, just in case. “I want funnel cake.”

Promptly ignoring all the questions for the rest of the night, you tried not to think about the number until you fell onto your bed, hat securely tossed onto your lamp.

Finally, you called the number.

“Jack Daniels, what can I do for you?”

“Jack?”

“Bunny!”

You sighed. “Do not call me that.”

Jack chuckled. “Struck a nerve?”

“Just a small one.” You rolled over, trying to think of what to say. “So, I’ve got another rodeo soon.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, despite it being pointless. “Yeah. I’m a judge, and I’m allowed to bring a date.”

Jack paused. “Bunny, are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe.”

Another pause, and then Jack laughed. “Consider it done bunny. On one condition.”

You smiled. “You never call me bunny ever again?”

“Nah,” Jack said. “Wear somethin’ green.”

Feeling giddy, you eagerly nodded. “Consider it done Mr. Daniels.”

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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jenomark · 3 years

Text

PART 3: XIAOJUN, THE EATER

➔Pairing: Lucas x Reader (Female) | Xiaojun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Hendery ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING for people with eating disorders or food issues. Food is mentioned a lot in this one, as food is Xiaojun’s kink. If that makes you uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping this part. Oral (female). Angst. Obsessive behavior. Honestly, I realize how uncomfortable this series is to read because it touches on a lot of serious issues involved around sex. Read with caution. ➔Word count: 4,656

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

“Yeah, right there...that’s good...keep going..yeah, right there.”

You set the couch down on your side with a thud. Lucas set his side down softly and stood back to get a good look at his new purchase. Well, it wasn’t just his purchase, but yours, too. To him, it was the family couch, the very thing that would bind the two of you together into holy matrimony land.

“It looks perfect in here,” he said. “Really ties the room together.”

You were on the verge of sniggering- and it was too late for you to retract any trace of amusement -when Lucas looked up and asked what you found so funny. He looked disappointed, which made you feel a twinge of guilt.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” you said, letting the humor slide from your face. “It’s just....Lucas, you never care about how the room looks. We’ve always made fun of people like that.”

“I do care.” he said. “Every time you walk into a room, suddenly, everything looks more beautiful.”

“Okay. That was really cheesy.”

Lucas laughed, dissolving any of the guilt you would have let fester. His smile was wide, his eyes twinkling and bright. “You’re right. I don’t know what has gotten into me.”

He had The Look in his eye. Before he could suggest that you break the couch in with a hot round of sex, you told him you were on your period. His face fell, and for just a moment, you began to feel bad again. The lies were getting easier lately, but there was something about this particular one that felt traitorous. He wasn’t the type of guy to root through the trash to find tampon wrappers as evidence. He was doing his part as the idiot boyfriend, but you, you were going to push things too far.

Fuck him on the couch, you tried to convince yourself. He’s your maybe fiance. Maybe.

An awkward silence passed. Lucas spun around and took a careful seat on the new couch. His big body sunk into the cushions in a way that hugged him better than you could. He groaned happily and looked so smug that he had made a good choice. Good job. Good girlfriend. Good couch. He patted the seat next to him and waited for you to join him.

“I should actually get going.” you said, wishing desperately that you sounded apologetic.

Expecting it, Lucas stood up. “I’ll drive you.”

His quick movements startled you. He stepped forward, as if it was already decided. You wouldn’t be able to convince him that you didn’t need a ride, which is how you ended up sitting in his passenger seat, your knees knocked together, and your bag clutched tightly to your chest. So, he wasn’t the type to root through the trash, but it seemed like he was looking through you, instead.

“Where am I driving to today?” he asked. He stuck his key in the ignition. He opened the window and inhaled the air, like it was the first time he was breathing. “I’m free. You could ditch your friends and drive around with me, like we used to.”

You smiled to yourself when all the memories resurfaced. Whenever you and Lucas got into arguments, you didn’t let it draw on for hours. He suggested you take a car ride together. He would drive, and you would sit in silence until he made you laugh like clockwork. You always wound up somewhere secluded, you sitting on the hood of his car and him apologizing for whatever he did. On the rare occasion, you were the one apologizing, offering him your body on whatever surface was publicly available.

“But we’re not arguing.” you said. “Why else would we need to take a ride?”

Lucas looked over at you. You could see all of the questions in his eyes, the way he turned his head so he wouldn’t have to ask them. “Right. I guess there is no need, then.”

He took your hand and held it between you and him. You thought of the couch being wedged between you, and now the console. If Lucas was able to read minds, he would read all of the things you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize for. About the job. About the ring. About all the walls you were building around yourself to keep him out.

Lucas dropped you off in front of a bakery. You said you were meeting an old friend, which was true, but it was the only truth.

You walked a few blocks away from where Lucas dropped you off. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You kept looking over your shoulder, peering into windows of passing cars to make sure Lucas wasn’t in one of them. You probably looked as crazy as you felt.

As you arrived at your destination, you got a text message from Lucas. You looked around one more time before diving into your phone.

Lucas: Text me before you come home. I’d like to clean up the place before you get in. Love you so much.

You: Love you.

You stowed your phone back into your bag and looked up at the restaurant you had stopped in front of. The sign hanging from an iron hook was hard to read, but you had been coming there for a long time, and you didn’t need a sign to know you were at the right place. The door swung open, a little tinkling bell alerting everyone in the near vicinity that a customer had left. The person held the door open for you, so you did a little jog to get inside.

You didn’t normally like buffets, and you definitely didn’t like little hipster buffets nestled between chic coffee houses and insurance agencies. On the outside, it looked a bit like a cafe; it was so nondescript. On the inside, it was anything but. Besides the unsettling minimalism on the walls, everything else was chaotic. The first room, the dining room, was full of mismatched chairs: bean bags, beach chairs, stools of various sizes, and the random childs tricycle seat. Each table looked like it had been thrifted from different cafes and upscale restaurants. If you were a tourist looking for a place to eat and you had walked in, you would surely walk right back out.

“Is he here?” you asked the hostess waiting at the front. She stood at a podium made of discarded cutlery.

“Punctual as always,” she said. “Talking to the servers, no doubt scaring away the customers. You know how he is.”

You thanked her and glided through the dining room, avoiding the eyes of the people eating. It was rude to stare as someone ate, and if he saw you staring, it would turn him off. He was all about manners of every kind.

You found him at the serving station, standing between each table talking to the man who owned the place. His back was turned to you, his small frame handsome, even from behind. You gandered at the food on display. There were so many options gathered in one place; a taste of the city, if the city ate with childrens cutlery shaped like zoo animals.

You stood and waited for him to stop speaking. You looked down at your heels, the patent leather shiny and new. The dress you wore was skin tight and left very little to the imagination. Tan, so as not to hurt his sensitive eyes. You thought you looked like a cheap whore trying to look expensive, but it was always less about the clothes, and more about being able to see every curve of your body. With him, unlike with Lucas, nothing was hidden from sight.

You were surprised Lucas hadn’t asked who you were dressing up for, but he was so oblivious to fashion, that he probably assumed you and your friends were trying to out-pretty eachother. As long as you didn’t leave the house wearing designer clothes, your boyfriend would hardly notice a thing. Even if he did, you knew he’d never say anything about it.

As if feeling you standing near him, he stopped speaking and turned toward you. He searched your eyes, his lips wondering whether or not they should pull up into a smile.

“You’re late.” he mouthed.

You smiled apologetically, meaning it.

Xiaojun. If happiness was a face, it belonged to him. He was always smiling, always making friends wherever he went. Everyone loved him, and it was a genuine love. You started to believe that he collected people like one would collect hats, and that maybe you were one of those lucky people. He told you once that he had to smile and talk to everybody, or they would talk about him first.

Xiaojun excused himself and made his way across the room. You gave him your cheek, bending down a little because he was shorter than you, and he kissed it. Xiaojun didn’t love public displays of affection. He took your hand and started introducing you to the new foods the restaurant was bringing into their daily mix. For Xiaojun, it would be the highlight of his day.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

You nodded excitedly, but your insides felt like knotting up. You had purposely not eaten for this moment, knowing what was required of you. Yet, your appetite was anything but big.

“Good,” he said. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll whip you up a plate, love.”

You went and found a table surrounded by child-sized chairs someone would find in a doctors office. Xiaojun would find it funny to see your larger, adult body in a chair too small for you. You sat, checked your teeth in a mirror and pulled out your phone to check your messages. When you were with other clients, you would never dare check your phone, but Hendery’s texts were coming in so frequently that you didn’t have a choice.

Hendery: I miss you.

Hendery: I’m bored.

Hendery: Can we fuck later?

Hendery: I saw this program earlier and it reminded me of you.

Hendery: So, I was thinking.....

You put your phone away as Xiaojun turned the corner. He had three plates of food: one plate in each hand, and another balancing on his forearm. Like a pro, he set them down on your side of the table without spilling anything.

“Good choice of seats.” he said, sitting down.

There wasn’t any food in front of him. You looked down at the food in front of you and felt the knots in your stomach tightening. Xiaojun didn’t let any of the food touch, but the plates were still full of steak, fish, potatoes and rice. You took a napkin off the table and folded it over your lap.

“You look pretty today.” he said.

“Thank you.” you said, careful to keep your manners up to par.

You picked up your plastic shark fork and started eating. Rice first, veggies next. You ate slowly, chewing thoughtfully, looking up at Xiaojun after swallowing each bite. His head was leaning on his hand, and he had a dreamy look in his eyes.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, smiling. “Is it me? Have I done something?”

“No!” you were quick to say. You took a sip of water to wash the food down. “I have some things going on in my personal life.”

“Ah, it’s like that.”

“Yeah,” you said. “But this food is really good, and I can’t imagine sharing my company with anyone else in the world.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

You shoveled more rice into your mouth, closing your mouth to mind your manners. You didn’t speak until it was all chewed and swallowed. “ I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Xiaojun, you know you’re my favorite.”

He didn’t believe it and neither did you, but it was the fantasy that kept you going. Xiaojun leaned back in his chair and watched you devour two full plates. As you got to your third, you could see the lust in his eyes. You turned to the side so he could see how bloated your belly was.

“Still hungry?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Yes, very.” you said. “I’m famished.”

You finished the third plate of food. Xiaojun went up to get you a plate of dessert, which meant that you didn’t have to pretend much anymore. You felt like vomiting from all the consumption. You sat back in your chair as much as you could and kicked your legs out until you were almost laying horizontal.

Eating. It was Xiaojun’s thing. He never ate himself, and in the beginning, you wondered if food was an issue for him. He opened up on the second date, eating a morsel for himself before feeding you the rest of what he had ordered. For Xiaojun, it was more about the care. If he fed you, he cared about you. He loved nothing more than to get you food (always paying for it, of course) and watch you pig out. Seeing you so stuffed turned him on, and if your belly was a little swollen, he would get an instant hard-on.

You never knew about certain kinks until you were welcomed into the sex industry. Someone like Xiaojun might have scared you off if you were still green, but meeting him as an experienced worker helped the both of you. Xiaojun became a client, as well as a friend. And your relationship was even better, because it was him who had introduced you to people like Ten. Deep down, you also liked to care for others.

Xiaojun came back with a chocolate lava cake made special by the kitchen. He set it down in front of you like he had set down a solid bar of gold. You looked at the cake like he might as well had. Xiaojun paid very well, so it was easy to keep acting.

“I didn’t think you were that hungry,” he said. “One is enough. I don’t want you bursting at the seams, love.”

He sat down in his seat. He clapped his hands excitedly and picked up a utensil with a dolphin on the end. He would be feeding you for the grand finale. Xiaojun picked up a chunk and watched the chocolate dribble out onto the plate. In other scenarios, you would have wiped your finger in the pooling chocolate and brought it straight to your lips, but he wouldn’t have liked that. You opened your mouth and kept your hands by your side. Xiaojun stuck the utensil in your mouth. You chewed the piece, the chocolate too rich for you to truly enjoy.

When he saw that you had a chocolate morsel hanging from the corner of your lip, Xiaojun got out of his chair and kissed you clean. It was the only instance where public displays of affection and good manners were completely forgotten.

You felt so full of food as you left the restaurant. You wobbled a little in your heels as you walked. Xiaojun had his hand on your back, and he was checking on you to make sure you were okay. He kept looking at the bloat in your stomach, which meant that he was ready for sex. A car couldn’t come fast enough for him.

“I know I ask too much of you,” he said. “But we should do this more often. I really like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you, too.”

You leaned down to kiss him. No tongue, just a peck. When you pulled away, Xiaojun had hearts in his eyes. You’ve always wanted to ask him why he didn’t just get a girlfriend who he could feed and fuck. He was a very attractive man, with a heart of gold. He didn’t have to be alone. You never got around to asking him because you began to understand why someone would live like that. What you and him did was an escape, and that escape was untouchable. Inviting anyone else in would change everything, and change is what you hated most.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” you said, feeling bashful.

You looked at your feet before looking down the street for the car. It should have been there by now. You inspected the area. People were going in and out of cars, some rushing to get inside buildings and out of the heat of the sun. No one was stopping to watch life, no one caring about anything other than their own busy lives. You kept searching and searching for some sign that life could slow down, and that’s when you saw him: Hendery.

“What the fuck.” you whispered.

Hendery was standing across the street. He was watching you with Xiaojun. He looked like his heart was being torn in two in real time, the agony on his face displayed for all of the pedestrians.. Before you could make a move, he was leaving the area.

You turned to Xiaojun. “Stay right here. I’ll be back. Please don’t leave without me.”

“Is everything okay?” Xiaojun asked.

“Yeah,” you said, walking. “Everything is just great.”

You didn’t know why leaving Xiaojun and chasing down Hendery seemed like the best idea. He looked so upset, which really shouldn’t have been your problem. Outside of the bedroom, Hendery was not your responsibility. But you had told him your whole life story, and you didn’t know how capable he was of tracking down a vet assistant named Lucas, and telling him all about you like he was some scorned lover.

“Hendery!” you called.

You could see him up ahead. You crossed the street. Once you hit the sidewalk, you started running as much as your heels allowed. Your feet hurt like hell, but you had to reach him before he did anything hasty.

“Will you just stop,” you yelled, coming up behind him. He was ignoring you. “You’re not making this easy for me, Hendery.”

Hendery stopped so suddenly that you almost collided with him. You turned to see if Xiaojun was watching, but thankfully, he wasn’t.

“Do you love him?” Hendery asked, spitting out the word love like it was dirty.

“What?” you asked. “Are you playing the part of the jealous lover now? I’m at work, Hendery. You know what I do for a living. You’ve hired me before, remember? ”

“You’re right,” Hendery said. “I’m sorry”

He started walking again. You followed behind, turning the corner with him. You didn’t have time to react before he was kissing you and pushing you up against the wall of a bank. His hands were all over your body. You pushed them out from going underneath your dress. You covered the bloat of your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “When I see you, I just…”

“It’s fine.” you said, trying to regain the upper hand.

A year or two ago there was a client who had fallen so deeply in love with you that he kept following you everywhere. He would show up when you were out with Lucas, which really made things complicated. You didn’t want to get the police involved, but Lucas insisted that no weirdo could keep harassing his girlfriend. Lucas never found out why the client did what he did, or that you had led him on for the sake of money.

“I think I should stop seeing you,” Hendery said. “You’re all I think about and it’s not healthy.”

Since taking his virginity, you saw Hendery multiple times. You never went back to your real home, but instead found hotels to fuck in. His sexual prowess had improved through practice. He was easily making you come twice a night when you were with him. It wasn’t the sex that had done it for him, though. You had started to relax your friendship with him, choosing to keep things business-only. As you did that, he started trying to get you to come a little closer again. The more you resisted, the more obsessed Hendery became.

“Sleep on the decision,” you said. “If you still feel the same way I-”

You didn’t know what else to say. There was part of you that didn’t want to lose the extra income that Hendery gave you. He was also easier to deal with when his emotions weren’t involved, and you really saw a future as friends with him.

“I don’t think I should talk to you again.” he said, his eyes avoiding yours. “I’ll never stop falling for you, and I should have known that everything you said was a lie.”

You thought about defending yourself, but Xiaojun had turned the corner and his eyes were going from you, to Hendery.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Hendery said. “Take this.” He dug around in his pockets and pulled out a few bills. He stuck them in the collar of your dress, which made you feel lower than you had felt in awhile.

You were in Xiaojuns bed, and he was in between your legs eating you out. He was good at it, but your mind was too far away and you couldn’t appreciate how tender he was being. You reached down to touch his hair as he sucked on your clit. You blinked away your thoughts and moaned on command. Oral sex was all you and Xiaojun ever did together, so he was bound to realize something was awry.

“Is it the boy?” Xiaojun asked, coming up for air. He kissed your inner thigh. “The one in front of the bank? The one that treated you rudely?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not responsive. If you want your money back, I’ll understand.”

Xiaojun set his chin on your lower tummy. Your legs were over his shoulder, and your body was propped up by a pillow so you could see everything he was doing. He said, “Watching you stuff yourself was more than enough for me, love.”

You were thankful when Xiaojun got up and handed you your panties. You slid them on and sat on his bed, your dress still sitting like a tight ring around your waist. No client had ever gotten to you so much that they affected another.

“He caught feelings?” Xiaojun asked. He looked down at his cock. He was still hard. “Not hard to do with you.”

“Something like that.” you said, feeling sorry for Hendery. For Xiaojun. For Lucas. For yourself.

“Don’t take it personally,” Xiaojun said. “He just likes the idea of you. You probably fucked him better than any of his girlfriends ever did.”

“He was a virgin.”

Xiaojun sighed. “That explains it. He’ll move on. You’ll see.”

But will I move on? You thought. You didn’t have feelings for Hendery, but in the shortest amount of time, he was so ingrained in your life that it was hard to let him go. Normally, when clients moved on, you counted your lucky stars. This time, you didn’t know which part to mourn first.

“He gave me money for talking to me, like I’m some whore,” you said. “I think that’s what hurts the most.”

“People do crazy things when they’re hurt.” Xiaojun said.

You laid back on Xiaojuns bed. He laid back with you, his face angled towards yours. His breath was sweet. You thought about kissing him then and there, but he didn’t feel like a paying client, and you didn’t want to make the moment any more weird than it was.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat me out some more?” you asked. “Or I can fuck your face? You always like it when I fuck your face.”

Xiaojun laughed. “That, I do.”

Before going back to Lucas, you stopped at your apartment and changed clothes. You had finally found Ten’s blanket hidden in the hordes of laundry you still had to do. After putting on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, you walked around the apartment, thinking about how you should make it more inhabitable and finally move in, once and for all. You could cut one place out and make room in your crazy life for something else.

There wasn’t much distance between your faux apartment and Lucas’. You could walk there, which is exactly what you decided to do. Since it wasn’t that far, there was no reason you couldn’t make the lie more believable. Besides, you were getting tired of going to so many places at once.

You pulled out your phone and pulled up Lucas’ name. You took a deep breath before you texted him.

You: on my way home..it’s a beautiful night for a walk.

Lucas: You’re walking? I’ll come get you. Let me know where you are.

You: NO....clean like you wanted..knowing you, the place is a mess ; )

Lucas: Okay, but be careful. There are a lot of crazy people out there. A lot of freaks.

You walked the way home thinking about all your little freaks. Each one fit into your life in a box, stored away in your messy closet of a mind. Eventually, you figured they would either sort themselves out, or you’d be around long enough to watch every box tumble down to the floor, their contents spilling out for the world to see.

You hadn’t seen Ten since the last time. He mentioned how he had gotten a partner, said he would call you when they both wanted you around for a little fun.

Hendery texted you one last “I’m sorry.” after you left Xiaojun for the night. You stared at the screen for far too long, trying to think of something to say. Instead, you just deleted the message and kept it moving.

Xiaojun was so sweet after you left. He gave you the biggest hug and told you everything would work out if you let it. It all had to start with you. You wanted to believe it.

You made it to Lucas’ apartment in ten minutes, out of shape and out of breath. You stood on the steps, just listening to the life of the city, before going inside. You trudged up the steps to the sound of music coming from inside of the apartment. You opened the door and were met with candles and a record player, and Lucas on one knee.

“I know what this looks like,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”

“It looks like a proposal.” you said, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Lucas smiled. “Would you want to marry me?”

You didn’t answer because you didn’t know what to say. Lucas looked down at the little box he held in his hands. He got off his knees and stood up, his body casting shadows on the walls.

“I’ll take that as a no.” he said.

“We’re too young,” you said. “But I do love you, Lucas.”

You expected him to put the box away and break up with you. After all, what girlfriend rejects a proposal before it even happens. But Lucas just smiled and shook his head, as if your reaction was totally expected. He held the box out to you and opened it. Instead of a ring, inside was a silver key.

“I want you to move in with me,” he said.” And then, when you feel like we’re old enough, I’d like to make you an honest woman.”

Honest woman? How apt, you thought.

You looked down at the key. There were so many questions swimming in your mind: A key? Where is the ring I saw? What the fuck is going on? But they were all swept away with the tide when you nodded, a single agreement sealing everything. Lucas came and lifted you off your feet.

“Now,” he said. “Let's make passionate love on our new couch. I don’t care if you’re on your period.”

173 notes · View notes

aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Text

Pancake Day, but Better

Characters: Niragi Suguru, Dori Sakurada, Last Boss, Cabot, Aguni Morizono, Chishiya Shuntaro, Hatter

Genre: Crack Part 2, now with pancakes.

1.9k words

Prompt: Can you do like a sequel for that dori and niragi crack,cause i want to see dori in pancake day and introducing himself to chishiya,last boss(and catbot)aguni,and hatter. And i have an urge that maybe hatter would like him because how he dresses himself how hatter likes it to be,also chishiya would just go up to niragi and say" Wow, he's actually even more better then you niragi. Maybe he's smarter then you too" As he walks away leaving a a angry niragi - @a-simp-20

(Counts as a Part 2 to this)

*Rubs hands together* Heck yeah, more gentle chaos. Time to gently bully this giraffe lizard man again.

Now with the added addition of pancakes! Fun times for all!

Despite the laws of the Borderlands and the highly likely chance that nobody knows the actual date that passes by, people still managed to produce what someone offhandedly referred to as the 'Borderlands Holy Day'.

Now, what pray tell was the Borderlands Holy Day? Was it a religion?

Despite the fact that it had 'Holy' in its name, no. It wasn't a religion. Although if someone tried hard enough it could become almost like a cult. Wouldn't be the first time.

So what was it?

Well, obviously.....

It was Pancake Friday. The greatest day of the century. The premise was simple enough: Every Friday everyone gets a pancake. A single pancake. Want more? Well, you better bet and compete for other people's pancakes. The only thing more exhilarating to the members of the Beach than winning games and living another day to party and do fuck-all was Pancake Day.

So, of course, when Friday rolled around, people weren't thinking of anything except the spoils of little bets and competitions over the week, thick fluffy pancakes topped with whatever they pleased and whatever the Beach had in stock at the time. Even Niragi was thinking about pancakes, because what's better than bragging about how many pancakes you got that week?

Nothing, that's what.

Pancake Day was great.

Niragi walks down the corridor with the strut of a man that knew he was feared, and he heads to the dining area where the pancakes would inevitably be given out. People were already there, a few making last minute bets in an attempt to win just a little extra amount for the day. Niragi found it almost amusing. Such a pitiful sight. Niragi himself had already gained a total of four whole pancakes, two of which he won off of some idiot who just thought he was really pretty.

" There's a lot of people here. It must be really important, right?" A smooth voice pipes up from just a little behind him, and Niragi is reminded quite forcefully that he didn't come here alone.

" Of course it's important, it's Pancake Day! Haven't you ever heard of it?" Niragi spat, Sakurada merely shrugging and walking away to talk to other members of the Beach. Niragi scoffs and storms away. At least he didn't have to think about the other him anymore, no matter how neat he looked.

He ends up finding Last Boss standing in the corner by himself, watching everyone else with a self made distance, leaning against his katana. His cat was chilling right besides his foot, apparently having her snack before the pancakes came out and making quiet eating noises. Niragi made sure not to accidentally step on her, which wasn't that hard to do. Niragi stares at Last Boss almost expectantly, waiting for even the slightest hint of a greeting, but all the other man does is stare ahead, lost in his own thought.

So, like a completely normal person would do to a guy ignoring the other, Niragi starts poking Last Boss in the side with his sniper rifle.

" Hey. Hey. Hey. You awake?"

Last Boss just continues to ignore him, and Niragi's pokes get a little harder the more he gets ignored. " Hey! Why are you ignoring me! Come on!"

Last Boss finally looks in his direction, and Niragi grins in victory, Last Boss just staring at him blankly. " Fucking finally, you were ignoring me."

Last Boss just continues to remain silent, but Niragi didn't care, instead putting his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looks out among the people still puttering about. Niragi could barely make out that Sakurada guy, who was talking to some random nobodies, Niragi scoffing to himself. He points him out to Last Boss, whose gaze follows the direction of Niragi's slender finger.

" See that one? Yeah, that one busted into my room and kept spraying me with water, the nerve of that guy."

Last Boss mutters something under his breath, Niragi not picking it up properly. He glances at Last Boss suspiciously, Last Boss just continuing to stare off at Sakurada without any sign of emotion on his tattooed face. Niragi groans, and he looks back in the direction of Sakurada, only to see that somehow the bastard has disappeared. Niragi frowns and looks around from where he stood to see whether he could see him again, but no dice.

The area was getting more and more full the longer Niragi tried looking, to the point that he gave up even trying. At some point Last Boss' cat had finished her snack, and he could feel Cabot rubbing her body across his legs as well just for the hell of it. He looks down at the feline, Cabot just doing her own thing like she usually did.

" Hey you little fuck. What's up." Niragi mutters down at the cat, Cabot just continuing on her little rub spree before going over to Last Boss and meowing loudly until Last Boss bent down and picked her up, Cabot resting happily with her butt in the crook of Last Boss' arm and her head and front paws draped over his shoulder.

Niragi rolls his eyes at the sight, and finally the time had come, Hatter walking in with the utmost grace, people cheering him like they do every time they see the man, with Aguni not that far behind. Niragi and Last Boss head towards the little stage Hatter insisted needed to be built for Pancake Day, standing in position as Aguni joins them, Hatter going up to the Pancake Podium.

" Greetings everyone! Today is the glorious and absolutely magnificent Pancake Day! I hope all of you have worked hard to acquire your pancakes!" Hatter shouts with arms outstretched like a bird's, people cheering and whooping excitedly. " I, for one, have a total of five whole pancakes, as throughout the week I have worked hard to get them from my loyal and beautiful members, and that one person who sadly perished in a game and bequeathed their pancakes to me for many months to come! May their soul be at rest, the courage of them~" Hatter announces, the crowd going wild.

" Now, may the pancakes commence!"

People scattered to tables near immediately, and the kitchen doors open as the designated chefs come out with the freshly made pancakes on carts. Niragi and Last Boss end up following Aguni and the rest of the executives plus Hatter to what was apparently the special table, used only by them.

Niragi grins as he leans back in his chair. At least Sakurada would stay away for now-

" Oh, there you are!"

Speak of the devil. Niragi shuts his eyes in annoyance as his clone comes over. Several pairs of eyes shoot to him, and despite his eyes being closed, Niragi could still feel the smug and interested smile Chishiya was giving off.

" Oh? And who are you, you splendid looking being?" Hatter's voice rings out. " Your outfit is immaculate, but I have never seen you before. No, wait...... I have seen you! Except less fancier. And usually with a hat. Who is sitting right there."

Niragi wanted to shoot this man so bad.

"My name is Sakurada Dori, it is very nice to meet you." Sakurada greets them.

Niragi finally bothers to open his eyes as Hatter stands up, and apparently does a quick check over of Sakurada, nodding to himself. " Yes, you are absolutely stunning. I love what you've done!"

" Are you the one that made Niragi take off his hat?" Aguni asks, low and stoic as always. Niragi rolls his eyes at that. He didn't intend to get rid of his hat, Sakurada just kind of yeeted it outside his window without even asking. The nerve of this guy.

Sakurada quickly nods. " I will get him another hat eventually, as I promised, but only as long as he shoots his gun responsibly!"

" Is that so...." Aguni mutters, and just kind of nods like a sort of proud dad.

Hatter grins even wider, and claps Sakurada across the back. " Now that's some courage! Hey, what say you, would you like one of Niragi's pancakes? As a sign of strength!"

" What?!" Niragi shouts, and he stands up, slamming the table. Aguni watches him quietly, as does Last Boss, the latter just staring more than a tired gaze like Aguni was sporting at the moment. " You can't do that!"

" But I can! I'm the leader after all, I can say what I want, and what I want is practically law here, Niragi. Remember who your boss is." Hatter smiles at Niragi in that sort of way that Niragi hated, but a firm tap on his arm by Aguni made him relent, Niragi angrily muttering to himself as he sat back down.

" Ah, thank you very much, but I don't need to take his-"

" Nonsense, you deserve it! Besides, Niragi already gets... how many?"

" Well I had four, but apparently not anymore."

" Three is plenty for you! Anyways, so that means you get two pancakes, you funky little ball of glory!" Hatter states.

" Are you sure? Is that alright with you Niragi?" Sakurada looks to the man, Niragi just grumbling some more.

" Don't worry about him, he'll get over it." Chishiya mentions, and Niragi quickly glares at him, Chishiya casually looking back with that damn smug ass smile on his lips.

" Fucking undercooked egg white." Niragi mutters under his breath, Chishiya just continuing to smirk.

Still, the pancakes arrive to their table, Hatter inviting Sakurada to sit with them for the day so he could talk about fashion, mainly about what kinds of hats the other liked, Sakurada easily falling into conversation with him. Niragi just drowns his now three pancakes in maple sauce, grumbling under his breath.

Last Boss was watching Niragi just nearby, eating his single pancake as Cabot got to treat herself to two whole cat-specified pancakes like she deserved, and goes to whisper to his cat, Cabot flicking her tail a little at whatever Last Boss muttered.

" You have a very nice cat there! It must be enjoying everything since it appears to be very well cared for and happy." Sakurada mentions at one point, Last Boss staring at Sakurada silently. Sakurada just politely smiles back, and Last Boss just slowly blinks, then nods.

" Thank.... you." Last Boss says, and Cabot looks up finally, and bumps her body against Last Boss, the man quietly petting her as Sakurada watches with a happy expression at how sweet the sight was. Sakurada makes small clicking nosies in an attempt to beckon the cat over to him, Cabot meowing and wandering over curiously, sniffing at Sakurada's fingers before letting herself get pet by the man softly. " She seems to like me already!" Sakurada says happily, Last Boss slowly nodding.

" That's good. She likes being pet gently." Last Boss mutters, and even Hatter tried to get in on the cat patting session.

" Hey Niragi." Chishiya's voice catches Niragi's attention, and he looks up at him, already despising of what he was about to spew out from his lips. The limestone fox man just smiles at him, pancakes already gone from his plate.

" The fuck do you want now."

" Your clone is actually way better than you. Perhaps even smarter than whatever half brain you have up there." Chishiya remarks, and with that he stands up and walks away from the table, immediately sliding himself into a group of people leaving and disappearing from his sight.

" YOU LITTLE FUC-" He whips out his gun, ready to chase Chishiya down and kill him like he always wanted to.

Water gets immediately sprayed on his face the second he stands up again, Niragi sputtering. " No. Bad Niragi."

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castleshadows · 3 years

Text

For As Long As We Could

Casteel has spent the last seven years inside, afraid of stepping out into the world once again. But, when Elashya dies, he finally decides to face his fears to support Kieran in his grief.

CW: Major Character Death

Written June 17, 2021

Casteel watched as the funeral procession made its way past his window, the sky outside trying its best to match the mood with gloomy white clouds that promised a drizzle later in the day. Similarly, the small crowd was cloaked in white, the color of mourning. Only the dead’s closest family and partners wore anything decorative, a small white lily pinned to the breast to represent the innocence restored to the soul of the departed.

He could pick out Kieran easily in the gathering, holding the back right corner of the casket. To anyone else he looked like he had his head tucked against the wind as everyone else did, but Casteel knew him better than that. No, his friend was crying, judging on the way his shoulders shook every couple seconds. It was a surprise to see him so vulnerable in front of that many people, but Cas didn’t judge him for it. In fact, it was a relief to see him finally show some semblance of emotion. The wolven had been so… stoic the past few days. Elashya had been the first bright light in his life in a long time, and that light had gone out so quickly, that it had left Kieran in a state of disrepair so great that he sought to hide it from everyone around him. Including his bonded.

The wind picked up a bit and somebody's hat went flying. Nobody so much as glanced in the object direction as they continued on with their dreary parade through the streets. Casteel could see the graveyard in the distance, and the hole in which Elashya would forever reside. He knew Kieran saw it too by the way the wolven started shaking. Someone beside him, whom Casteel had never seen before, put their hand on Kieran’s shoulder, rubbing it and comforting him until he seemed to calm a bit.

A rogue bit of jealousy flashed through him, and Casteel worked to control it. He and Kieran loved each other very much. Before his… capture, outsiders looking at their relationship would’ve thought they hated each other. They had been constantly at each out, swinging fists at faces for the most minor things. They still loved each other though. Nothing would change that. However, fifty years of two different kinds of torture had changed them both, and he felt like he hardly knew his dearest friend, his partner in crime, anymore. He wanted to get to know him again, badly. But, every time he tried to step even a toe outside of his current comfort zone, something in his mind convinced him that he would end up back in that cage again, being raped and brutalized, his body nor his blood his own.

Casteel shook his head, yanking himself away from that train of thought before he could board it. It had been nearly three months since he’d had a panic attack, and he didn’t wish to restart that timer.

Cas’s eyes left the window and trailed around the small room. When he’d returned, seven years ago almost to the day, he didn’t want to stay in his old rooms. They reminded him too much of her. Every time he set foot in the bedroom he could clearly see her lying on the bed, waiting for him to return. Every time he peeked his head into the bathroom he saw her in the shower, beckoning him to join as she washed her long golden locks. Every time he smelled her leftover scent in the sheets that had not been washed in fifty-seven years, he wanted to vomit. So, he’d requested a different room, one that didn’t feel so big and empty, and one that she had never set foot in.

His gaze snagged on the small wardrobe in the corner, and he pushed his chair back from the desk walking silently over the wood floors. He stopped in front of the cabinet and slowly opened the fancily embellished doors. They creaked slightly, the sound deafening in the quiet room. Inside were all the clothes he’d worn for the past seven years. Ten tunics, ten pairs of breeches, ten pairs of socks, four belts, three coats, two cloaks and a set of boots that were worn and practically falling apart. All of which were some variation of white, brown, or black. Not the most fitting outfits for a Prince, but something about the routine of it comforted him.

He selected a white tunic, the lightest color breeches he had—a sort of light beige—and a black belt. It wasn’t even close to being appropriate for a funeral, but he didn’t have anything formal and white, so these would have to do. Potentially he could borrow some clothes from Kieran’s closet, or some old ones from Jasper, but he was already going outside for the first time in quite a while, and he didn’t know if he could handle more than one new thing at a time.

Casteel shucked off his soft, stretchy trousers and pulled on the light beige ones. He pulled the tunic over his head and buttoned it up, tucking the fabric into his pants. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the parade was near the cemetery. He would have to hurry if he were to make it on time.

Without thinking much about it, Casteel threw open the door to his chambers and stepped out into the cool hallway. He took a minute to let the reality of what he was about to do sink in. Anxiety bubbled up, but he quickly shoved it down, refusing to let his fear get in the way of what Kieran needed. He was going to be there for his brother if it was the last thing he did. A small voice in the back of his tried to convince him it would be, and he paused, letting the voice take over for a minute. And then he was flying down the hallway, not an all out run, but pretty damn close. Slow and steady wasn’t going to cut it here. It was going to be either all at once or not at all.

The walls were a blur as he sprinted through the large estate. There were usually very few visitors at this time of year, and Kirha and Jasper rarely employed servants, so the halls were quiet and empty.

Casteel slowed down near the stairs, trying desperately not to trip. Nothing took the dignity out of one's re-enter into the world like falling face-first down the stairs.

“Casteel?”

He paused, foot poised above the ground, hand white-knuckling the railing. Turning his head, he met the teary gaze of Kirha Contou. Unlike Casteel, she had known Elashya quite well, and being Kirha, had practically claimed the wolven as one of her own. It was no surprise that she was nearly as upset as Kieran was.

“I didn’t expect you to be out at this time,” she said, her voice soft as if she was afraid she might scare him away. Casteel was afraid he might be scared away too. “Do you need something?”

The silence was the loudest he’d ever heard. He wanted to answer her, but something in him froze. The large parlor suddenly seemed extremely daunting, not to mention outside, where the sky was open and there were no walls to keep him safe. He would have nothing except for the clothes on his back and his own frail body, that still hadn’t built up even a third of the muscle he used to have. Casteel stepped back, away from the door, away from the outside world.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t do this.

“Cas?” Kirha said again. Her expression was one of love, and she held her hand out in front of her, coming towards him. “I was heading to Elashya’s funeral. Would you like to come?” She cocked her head waiting for an answer.

Steeling himself, he tentatively placed his hand in hers. Casteel would force himself to go if he must. Kieran needed him, and he would be there for his brother. It also helped that Kirha would walk there with him. A comforting presence if he should need it, and he had a feeling he would.

The first steps outside were stressful to say the least, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, and refused to let himself look at the empty, open sky, or even glance at the few civilians that gawked at him along the street. Eventually he felt their eyes find other places to land on, and he felt a bit lighter, each step less of a challenge than the one before.

Kirha stood by his side the entire time, leading him through what they both knew as the least crowded areas of the city.

Too soon for comfort, the graveyard was in view, and Casteel could see the large amount of people gathered in the middle. It seemed that the eulogy’s had already started and as they grew nearer, he could hear the end of an older man’s speech being delivered. He looked like he could be her father, and it was confirmed when he referenced the dead as his daughter.

Kirha led him through the makeshift pews towards Jasper and their youngest daughter, Vonetta, who waved shyly at him. Kieran sat in the second row just ahead of them, and he seemed to sense Casteel’s prescenese, tensing and turning around to meet his gaze.

His eyes were teary, and there were water tracks all down his cheeks, but he did his best to smile when he saw Casteel, mouthing a quiet “thank you”. Cas nodded to the wolven and then looked towards the podium, where a Priestess stepped up and called the next speaker forward.

“Kieran Contou, partner of the deceased.”

All eyes turned to his brother, and Kieran stood, shakily making his way to the front and thanking the Priestess for the introduction. He stepped up onto the podium and then seemed to freeze, droplets of water starting to build up in his eyes.

Kieran gripped the speech in his hands, looking over the crowd as if they were his death sentence. Tears spilled down his face and Casteel could feel Kirha tense beside him. She very obviously wanted to go to her son, but didn’t know how he would react. He couldn’t blame her. Kieran’s feelings were confusing on a good day, and today was very much not a good day.

Without thinking about what he was going to do, Casteel stood up. Immediately all eyes were on him, but he forced himself to ignore them all except the ones that belonged to his best friend. He made his way out of the aisle, trying not to step on anyone’s feet while still meeting Kieran’s gaze.

He didn’t really remember the walk to the front, only the way his bonded’s eyes, usually full of amusement or boredom or absolute apathy, were completely raw. A window directly into his soul. His friend was vulnerable and practically ripped open for the world to see. And, Casteel couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

“Do you want me to?” he asked softly, holding out one hand for the piece of paper that contained the handwritten speech.

Kieran looked down at the page and then back at Casteel and repeated the action. Eventually he nodded, shaking as he handed it to his friend. The wolven moved to leave, but Cas wrapped his arm around his shoulders pulling him close and waiting until he relaxed in his grip to speak.

Clearing his throat, Casteel began.

“I did not know Elashya well,” he started in his own words, his voice ringing out stronger and clearer than he’d anticipated, “She and I did not see each other very often and when we did I am ashamed to say that I did not make much of an effort to become acquainted with her… But I can see very clearly from the crowd gathered here today that she was much loved, and I have been told of her kindness and her warm, magnetic personality by my best friend and brother, Kieran Contou.”

The wolven beside him let out a choked sob, and several people in the crowd started to cry along with him. Casteel hugged him tighter.

“I know that he loved her very much, and it is with this love in mind that I read his speech for you today,” he unfolded the piece of paper and started to read about the woman he’d never known, but now wish he had met, “Elashya Fraiser was a bright light in my life—in all our lives—and one that was snuffed out much too quickly… She had such a long life to live, so many things she wanted to do that she was not able to. But I know that if she were here now she would scold me for being so depressing.”

The crowd did not laugh, but several gave small smiles, each remembering something about the deceased. Caseteel paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, and then continued.

“So I will try during this speech not to mourn the life she did not live, but celebrate the one she had,” Casteel watched as many nodded in agreement, “I remember when I first met her. It was at a time when my life was filled with shadows, but they scattered at the first bright smile I saw on her face. That was one of the many things I loved about her. She was always smiling, always looking for a silver lining on every cloud. Her smiles were beautiful, and they made me feel warm inside every time I caught a glimpse.”

He remembered when Shea’s smiles had done that for him. When every glance she made his way made his very soul soar.

“I know what you’re thinking. Every man in love has something cheesy to say about their love’s smile, but Elashya’s was like hot cocoa and a warm blanket on a cold night. Everything about her felt like coming home.”

He had not known Elashya, but his friend's beautiful words made it feel like he had. She sounded like a lovely person, and he really did regret not getting to know her.

“She lit up every room without fail, and made it seem effortless. Even in the last days of her life she stayed positive. Even as her loved ones crowded, teary-eyed, around her bed, saying their final goodbyes, she was able to send them away smiling. Still sad, but at least reassured that she would be okay in the next life. And she will be,” Casteel paused to read the next line, and almost laughed out loud. Even in tough times Kieran found a way to be sarcastic, “If anyone can find something good in being dead it’s Elashya.”

This time there were a couple teary chuckles. Even without looking up, Casteel could sense that many people were in a deep state of nostalgia. He could tell Kieran was too. The wolven had stopped sobbing and though there were still tears running down his cheeks, they were ones not of sorrow, but of a bittersweet kind of feeling. Casteel turned his attention back to the page.

“I’m sorry that my speech is so short, for I fear that if I write any more I will not be able to stop. There is so much about her that I want to share, so much I want to say about the one I loved. The one I still love with all my heart. But, there is a time limit on these, so I will say just one more thing.”

Casteel had told himself at the beginning that he would get through this speech without shedding tears, but reading what Kieran had written about the woman he’d loved was making it pretty damn difficult. He had a way with words that Casteel would never be able to even attempt. And the speech was a painful reminder that he hardly knew anything anymore about his best friend. Kieran had been in love for the first time for the gods sake and he hadn’t been there for him.

Something nudged his side and Casteel opened eyes he hadn’t realized were closed. He blinked away the slight wetness that had been gathering and looked to Kieran, who poked him again.

“Sorry,” he whispered only loud enough for his friend to hear. Kiearn nodded and gestured back to the speech.

“Can I finish?” he rasped.

Casteel handed the page to him, directing him towards where he left off and a second later Kieran was speaking slowly, but surely.

“Elashya and I knew from the moment we fell in love that the end could come any day,” his voice wavered a bit, but he waved Casteel away when he tried to take over, “We knew that it was possible she would die, and I must admit there were times I felt myself falling into hopelessness. There were times where I was tempted to save myself from despair, for I am selfish, and I won’t pretend otherwise.”

Casteel wasn’t sure where this notion came from that he was selfish, for the wolven was one of the most loyal and loving people he knew. But, he didn’t interrupt, only made a mental note to later remind Kieran of the love he held inside him.

“But every moment I was with her has made it worth it. All the pain I have felt the last few weeks has been worth it, and I would endure a million more years of it if it meant I could see her just one last time.”

Casteel felt the same way about Shea. He was deeply ashamed of it, but he could not pretend he didn’t feel the way he felt. He would do anything to have just one more moment with her before. Before she decided she didn’t love him enough to stay with him until the end. But, maybe there was no before. Maybe she’d never felt that way for him. Maybe she’d been stringing him along the entire time. A tear fell out of the corner of his eye, and made a track down his cheek.

“I do not regret a thing and I know she didn’t either. I know that she is watching me now, and I hope that she is proud of me for trying to be at least somewhat optimistic. I admit I’m rather bad at it,” he paused, smiling a bit at his own writing, “But I know that if I were somehow taken back in time with all the knowledge of the heartbreak I was to endure, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Kieran then looked up, meeting the eyes of everyone in the crowd and setting down the card. The tears in his eyes were coming back in full force and he took a deep breath, looking behind him at that coffin poised beside the empty grave. He looked… he looked lost, but like there was hope that he could be found again. Then, with visible effort he turned away, and held his head high delivering the last line of his speech.

“Because the heart doesn’t care how long you may have someone… It just cares that you have the person for as long as you can.”

#kieran contou #casteel da'neer #casteel & kieran #brothers #brotherly love #brothely feels #angst #eulogy #speeches #funeral #loss of loved one #dealing with grief #mourning #fbaa #akofaf #tcogb #tcogb spoilers

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