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k-hotchoisan · 6 months

Note

hii it’s me again with another request (sorry)

Could you write smtg based off the song agora hills by doja cat? whatever member u prefer is fine 💕💕

anywayssss i love you smmm and u are an amazing person!! 💕💕🤭🧎‍♀️

omg that is such a cute song (if you squint hard enough past the public sex HAHAHAH)

Please never apologise for coming back for a request, you know I’ll always welcome you with open arms 🥰

Always thank you for being so sweet vic (if it’s okay to call you that~) and for giving me inspiration + pushing me write out of my boundaries. I genuinely appreciate it.

AND I LOVE YOU TOO 🗣️🩷😭

Where you and Seonghwa have a fight before his Grand Prix finals, but he still wins, and loses his fucking mind when he sees you still cheering for him despite that.

Genre/Warnings: racer au, smut, semi public sex, you fuck Seonghwa in his racer gear, IF YOU SQUINT HARD ENOUGH THERES LIKE ANGST (it isn’t heavy don’t worry), creampies, mild dacryphilla, unprotected sex, sweaty sex

You storm past your partner into the hotel room, trying to let the anger dissipate. Seonghwa is trying to get to you, explaining what you saw. You know that it couldn’t be helped, but feel the thorns prickling your heart when you couldn’t even approach him when you caught one of his overly zealous and nepotistic fans with her hands over him during the after party. Nothing much could done because;

a. He couldn’t do anything about it because the relationship between the both of you had to be kept a secret, his management did not like the thought of entertaining Seonghwa in a relationship when his career is at his peak;

b. The Grand Prix finale was tomorrow. A lot of stakes were in place, and Seonghwa knew better than to fuck it up, especially when he’s worked so hard to get where he is now. He’s so close.

He’s also so fucking close to just wanting to let the world know how possessive he is over you.

“You know it’s not like that right?” and he goes on and on. You know that it’s part of his job—to network, get more sponsors, even if it meant letting other women get a little too close to him. You understand, you do, but oh god, it gets so fucking exhausting. You just wanted time for yourself to clear your head and process the whole thing, and potentially stabbing that nepo baby at least sixty times in your head.

Your arms are crossed. Arguing with him is the last thing you want to do right now, especially when the both of you barely escaped getting caught sneaking into his hotel room. All that for a fight to erupt between the both of you after a long and tense day on the track. You glare at him with a pout.

“I’m going home.”

Seonghwa whips his head so fucking fast, his eyes piercing right into you. He looks absolutely dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?”

You nod. “I’m sorry that I overreacted, but now, I’m not risking us getting caught when tomorrow’s the finals.”

Seonghwa wants to fucking pounce and cage you in. Before he even attempts to deflect your words, you cut him off-

“-and especially when you’re not the one dating someone who needs to keep a relationship a secret.” You sigh. “Please get some rest, Hwa.”

You pull the hotel door open, and leave promptly. Seonghwa stands there, his brows furrowed as frustration bleeds into him. He wants to so badly chase after you, but he knows you wouldn’t let him, not when there could be a chance to risk getting caught by anyone from his team.

As the cab pulls away further from the hotel, your phone is spammed by Seonghwa, and he’s explaining himself. You purse your lips, reading over his texts, but you only decide to reply a curt reiteration of what you told him earlier at his hotel room, and a “love you”, before unlocking your door to finally wash up.

A ping of guilt courses through you—you know you shouldn’t misunderstand or be jealous, but if anything, it was but how it made you feel, and it wasn’t pretty. You didn’t mean to show a perturbed expression when his eyes glanced at you after he barely managed to shake his little fan girl off him, but it was just automatic. And if anything, Seonghwa is just as possessive as you are, if not worse, especially when he sent death glares to your direction when another male had approached you, and periodically touched you up on your arms, which kind of caused the argument to even start in the first place.

Your eyes flutter close, exhausted, as sleep drags you in deeper, the last thing in your mind being Seonghwa.

The morning sun leaks through the windows of Seonghwa’s room. He’s already up, albeit half awake, getting ready for another whole day of racing. His mind was set on going all out for the finals, but something still remains at the back of his mind, and he doesn’t want to push it away. He thinks to himself, he wants to do it for you.

You only send Seonghwa a short text of encouragement, and he doesn’t reply. Then again, he is wrapped up with interviews over interviews, training and the finale would only start when dusk sets. You don a body con dress, paired with one of Seonghwa’s racer jackets you stole, might as well surprise him a little bit.

On the cab to the event, Seonghwa’s gorgeous face is plastered all over the Grand Prix news, as one of the rising stars. He looks absolutely stunning, no doubt, and it gets your heart racing too because you cannot believe he’s yours.

You take a seat amongst the noisy crowd around you. The atmosphere was getting really riled up, especially when the racers all appear on the big screen as they walk back stage to their cars. Your eyes are glued to the screen as Seonghwa appears in his racing gear, and he winks at the camera, a slew of fangirl screams burst around you, and you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle. All the hard feelings the night before faded off, and you heart felt full yet anxious for Seonghwa.

It takes awhile for the warm up and safety check to be cleared, but before you knew it, the checkered flags are raised and lights turned green, cheers roar across the tracks as the loud screeches of the cars overpower them.

Throughout the laps, Seonghwa falls in between 3rd and 4th place, you bite your lip, praying that he’s able to catch up. As the laps close in to its final rounds, Seonghwa slowly climbs up the position to first, and he maintains, amazingly. The night continues to burn with anticipation as the final lap commences, with Seonghwa neck to neck with another racer, switching between first and second.

The final corner becomes the make or break—as Seonghwa drifts, effectively overtaking just slightly before fully taking the spot for first.

And he speeds into the finishing line, winning championship.

You jump from your seat, your fingers clasped from the tension as the announcer is proclaiming Seonghwa’s win, and the screen flashes his winning race in slow motion. Your heart is pounding in your ears as the screams are blocked out. You are so proud that nothing leaves your lips as you fight the tears from falling as you clap. The screen flickers to the car cam, and you see Seonghwa pumping his fist in victory as he rides through another victory lap.

The barricade has fans screaming Seonghwa’s name as he leaves the car and pulls his helmet off. He looks so fucking amazing even when he’s sweaty, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. You decide not to squeeze with the fans near the barricade, opting to stand further away.

Well, now where does this relationship go? He’ll probably be even further from you now.

A huge group of reporters swarm him, and he looks overwhelmed, that is until his eyes scan the crowd and lands on you, just when you’re ready to turn to leave.

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat, his eyes are only tunnelling you as he pushes past the crowd, jumping past the barricade to where you are. You have a small smile on your face because you know he deserves all of this.

A tight grip on your hand halts you in your tracks, shocking you, as you turn around with wide and confused eyes. He pulls his goggles off. Before you could even process it, Seonghwa has his jacket that you’re wearing in his fist as his hands travel up cup your jaw—and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

Your eyes shut as the kiss scatters fireworks beneath your eyelids, with Seonghwa’s lips right pressing against yours. Your mind is fuzzy, as your ears blocks out the loud screams of his fans. He pulls back after what feels like an eternity, before bowing politely at the group of fans and reporters in front of him as he leads you away.

From the circuit track to his hotel room, he never once let go of your hand, probably only gripping it tighter the closer he got to his room. He doesn’t say a damn thing either, probably because he still has the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Nonetheless, you still can’t tell what he’s thinking, and you’re wondering if he’s still upset.

At least not until the moment the door closes behind you.

Because he turns his heels right at you as devours your lips, not letting go at all, even as peels off his jacket, then yours.

He finally pulls back, giving you a breather. His eyes look absolutely wild as he tugs his jacket off you, exposing the way your dress hugs your curves, and his breathing becomes heavier.

“Fuckin hell. You don’t know how much it drives me insane when you’re wearing my jacket over something fuckin slutty like this. Fuck,” he groans, kicking his shoes off. You stare at him breathlessly as you remove your shoes as well, but your gaze never leaving how Seonghwa looks so fucking good with a compression shirt on—the way it hugs his biceps, the way it pulls taut against his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous bounce of his fucking tits every time he shifts his arms. He doesn’t remove his top before pulling you right back into his arms, his hands snaking up to grab your braless tits, which makes him groan again.

“Fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra. Are you fucking kidding me?” His erection presses hard against your thigh, and you’re working through your brain to find and answer amidst being trapped by pleasure. “And where did you think you were running to, looking like that?”

“N-nowhere! I thought you’d be caught up with the report-“ he cuts you off with another hungry kiss. God, he’s so desperate that you can’t help feel the heat pool between your legs. It doesn’t help that he had pulled your dress down past your chest, and his hands are all over your tits, sending sparks down your your spine, right to your pussy. Seonghwa pulls away once more, licking the string of spit that connected the both of you.

Seonghwa hums. “Mmm. Shouldn’t have asked. I’d still fuck you dumb anyway.” Your grip on his arm tightens. His fingers snake under your dress, tugging on your panties as he pulls the pair down, and pockets the pair of panties. The wet patch of slick doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His gaze locks onto yours as he makes sure you watch him cover his fingers with spit before his fingers head south. His fingers meet your slick that covered your cunt and scoffs.

“You’re already so fucking wet already”. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. You lean forward and sigh as you use his shoulder to lean your head on. He lets you for a moment, adoring the way you’re beginning to squirm underneath him. Then he’s grabbing your waist and then dumping you right on the couch, pushing your legs open for him. Your cunt glistens with slick right for him, and Seonghwa is more than ready to dive in, giving a lick before fully immersing his tongue right into your sex, flicking his tongue against your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and your head is thrown back as you tug his slicked back hair. If you weren’t seeing stars, you’d be seeing the fucking heavens.

Seonghwa hits a pace where you’re beginning to see white spots beneath your eyelids and the knot tugs hard in your stomach. Your thighs contract immediately, but Seonghwa keeps them apart, because he knows that’s the sweet spot. He knows it makes you tingle and it gets him so fucking excited. His tongue works even quicker on your clit and your orgasm builds so fucking quick and your whines climb up in octave, music to Seonghwa’s ears.

“There, there. Oh fuck. I’m cumming. Oh my fucking god”, leaving your lips like a mantra, alongside more whines of his name as your orgasm tingles through your body in waves. His tongue presses against your clit and he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt, tears already streaking from the overstimulation. Seonghwa’s moaning in your wet cunt, making sure he devours every part of your orgasm as his ego inflates. A broken cry leaves your lips as you release his locks, your hands slumping against the couch. Seonghwa presses a wet kiss against your cunt with a smile. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he towers over you, his erection staining his pants already. Oh god, you love the way your arousal is all over his plump lips nonetheless. He was made for eating you out. He leans in for another ravenous kiss—and he swears he can never get enough of it. Before you realise it, your dress is pulled back up past your tits.

His fingers gently intertwine with yours as he pulls you up, and leads you to-

“The balcony?” You question, your heart hammering in your chest. Seonghwa cracks a smile as he leans in.

“Yeah. I wanna show the world my girl. I’ll fuck you so good that I’ll make sure the world knows.”

“But-“

“It’ll be fine. I’m serious. We’re so high up and we’re clothed, well kind of ”, he comforts. You bite your lip, because fuck, it was definitely exhilarating to be fucked on the balcony. You wanted the world to know that he’s yours too and the thought of it only heats you up even more.

He leads you the beach chair at the side, where he makes you sit and hang your legs on either side of the arm rests, and he’s about to remove his compression top but your hands stop his before you realise it. He looks at you, concern flashes over his face for brief second.

“Fuck me with your racer gear on.”, you blurt out, curling your fingers against the taut fabric. Seonghwa’s expression immediately switches over to one of a smirk. “What have you been fantasising about, darling?” He pokes, looming over you with a cocky smile.

You can’t escape, the only thing that does is a small whimper. Seonghwa doesn’t push for an answer, because he’s busy yanking his pants down past his thighs, and his cock springs out, hitting his lower abdomen. He sighs as he gives his fat cock a couple of pumps while looking at you with your legs spread wide open for him, your pussy just salivating at the thought of him pounding into you into the next week.

He lines himself to your entrance and doesn’t warn you before he enters, and a squeal leaves your lips, then a soft cry as he pushes more inches into you—every inch going thicker and thicker as he goes down to the base, until he’s snug in your cunt.

“That’s my good girl. Warm and wet, just how I like it”, he whispers into your ears, as he strokes your thighs gently. More sobs leave you, your fingers pressing onto Seonghwa’s arms.

Just when you thought you couldn’t fit any more of Seonghwa, the sudden thought of him right now, fucking you in his uniform somehow swallowed more of his cock, earning you the most gorgeous moan from Seonghwa as his eyes roll back and his eyebrows scrunched.

“Baby-fuck!-just what are you thinking about? Squeezing me like this? Oh god”, his knuckles are whitening from his grip on the arm rest. He pulls out before starting a pace to fuck you with, and soon enough it’s only the sounds of skin slapping, both of your moans and the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock just pounding right into the perfect angle of your cunt that exists in this damn universe. You wouldn’t ask for more.

Your brain was becoming pulp, only soft sobs every time Seonghwa’s balls deep into you. You could only focus on how his biceps tensed against the fabric as his tits fucking bounced every time his slams his cock into you—which you definitely see it too—the way his pants hang just at his lower thighs, and his cock is just disappearing into your pussy, drawing out squelching sounds that were borderline obscene. Drops of sweat splatter onto your dress as he leans in to rest his forehead onto yours.

“So good. So fucking good to be inside you like this”, he curses, trying to not the feeling of his orgasm overpower him. As you were gradually losing yourself to the pleasure, he suddenly pulls back completely, and instructs you to face the night scenery with your ass out. He crumpled your dress to your waist, and his cock enters you again, causing you to draw a sharp breath. He doesn’t let you adjust—he just starts fucking you raw like that, leaving your mouth agape and eyes blown out from the pleasure.

He’s able to reach even deeper part of your pussy now, and he makes sure you fucking cry for him. “H-Hwa!”, you try to speak in between sobs. “Oh god, oh god. I can’t. It’s so deep.” Your hands barely have the strength to hold onto the rails as he is railing you from behind.

“That’s my pussy. Milk me dry baby”, Seonghwa grunts, his fucking becoming more erratic, admiring the way your ass bounces off his cock so naturally. “I’m cumming all the way in baby. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?”

And a drawn out moan fills your ears as his cum floods your abused hole, and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you, clenching his cock even more. A loud slap reverberates into the night as his hand lands on your ass, causing you to flinch and squeal.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re such a good girl”, he hums, holding your hips as far as his cock would let him drive into you, letting cum dribble down your inner thighs. He pulls out slowly, admiring the way your cunt convulses, small loads of his cum and yours leak out of you. You release your grip from the railings and fall right into his arms, as he plants a loving kiss on your temple before whispering,

“I promise you’re the only one for me, baby.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #kpop fics #ateez seonghwa #y/n x seonghwa #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath.

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended.

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?”

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned.

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.”

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements.

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.”

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach.

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply.

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway.

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after.

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet.

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff.

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are.

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy.

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately.

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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alcinaslittlemaid · 3 months

Text

Naughty Little Lamb~

Pennywise 2017xFem!reader

•Warnings: Smutty smut, degradation, spanking (a lot), angry sex.. and much much more, Mild DD/LG (tiny bit) uses of pet names

(I’m not great at writing buts it’s the red hour 😳🌶️)

Come join the clown~

🎪🎈🤡

——————————

The hour was very late, you had struggled to get to sleep and Pennywise had gone out hunting. You felt a familiar throbbing in your underwear, by god you were missing him so much, your hand slipped down between your silky thighs and coating your fingers were your own sinuous juices.

You smirked and began pleasuring yourself, grabbing your vibrator imagining penny’s long slippery tongue slurping your insides out, your toes began to curl as you bucked your hips in submission, your mind travelling further, now imagining how smaller tentacles would slither out, gripping your thighs to keep you in place, long slimy tentacles restricting your movement, as his long, hard alien-like tentacle is forcible pushed into your tight hole, the ridges of his length hitting your clit as he completely ruins you.

Trying to get his entire length inside your tight, little cunt, you were getting close, finally going to be rid of your need for him (until tomorrow that is) you were almost riding your vibrator with pleasure

“Dooonnnt youuuu Dareeee~” that taunting voice in your head rang out like a bell you had recognised all too well

“Fuck…” you whined “Watch your mouth little slut” the voice growled, it’s raspy voice grunted in your ear as you slowly peeked up at the darkened side of your room, there…two golden orbs stared back at you, dark red circles rimmed it’s golden stare

“Oh my~ look at the filthy mess you’ve made, you dirty little slut” pennywise barked, stepping towards you “my! Dirty little sewer slut” he grinned before sitting down

“Come” he snapped patting his lap “But you said I couldn’t-“ you attempted a joke, but the state he gave you was stern, cold and deadly

“I said…COME!” He snapped, before dragging you roughly over his knee, your ass now presented to him like his next meal on a silver platter “Ah! Ow your hurting me! Penny what the fu-“ you were soon cut off by his to clawed fingers “Good little girls should be seen and not heard” his fingers were almost in your throat, you hadn’t a clue what was happening.

“You’ve been such a naughty, filthy little lamb Y/N” he teased before hiking your skirt up higher, his tentacles keeping you tightly in place as his hand slowly lifted behind your rear

“Now, we’re gonna play a little game~” he began, you shook your head at his silly games, but he was having none of it

“your gonna count every time I spank that little ass” he continued “and if you mess up or miss a number, they’re gonna restart and be even harsher…got it?” He hissed, you squealed and tried to squirm out of his grasp

“Ohhhh you wanna play hide and seek? Okay! If hide and I don’t find you in under 2 minutes I won’t punish you! We can doooo whatever you want~” he had crossed his fingers behind his back while saying that. You nodded and took off running, trying to find a hiding place he hasn’t seen yet, meanwhile the clown began to the countdown to your demise

“1…..2……3”

“Shit” you winced

“4…..5….6”

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

“7……8….9…”

You finally found a spot, sliding into it and shutting the door behind you ever so silently, you sunk beneath the piles of sheets and bedding

“10! Ready or not little bunny! Mr wolf is coming to find you hahahah” He cackled maniacally and began searching for you, his boots thudding against the ground in desperation. This was horrifying, he could do anything to you…you could hear doors opening and the disappointed sigh when you weren’t there “Oh my little lamb you are clever..” He then opened the door to your linen cupboard “but not clever enough- oh! Oh fuck where on earth is that little girl?” He slammed the door shut and began walking away…or so you thought

As soon as you heard a door downstairs creak open, you poked your head out and began sneaking back to your bedroom thinking you had won.

You were suddenly pinned to the ground by his clawed glove “You! You are so gullible…you think I couldn’t smell that throbbing, aching slit? Hahaha oh little one, you fell for the oldest trick in the book! You are a fly in my spider web” he giggled maniacally in pure pleasure, before dragging you back to the bedroom, a thread of drool trailing behind and a sinful, sadistic look in his eye.

@sootrootdoot

@pennywise-fucker

End of part 1🎈

Lemme know what y’all think and I’ll write the next part!!

#pennywise fluff #it pennywise #pennywise art #pennywise the clown #pennywise x you #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #pennywise #it 2017 #smut #slashers #slasher smut #pennywise smut #slut4pennywise #clownfucker #pennywise the dancing clown #it fandom #it chapter one

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artists-ally · 3 months

Text

{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien {Pt.2}

Welp. Here we are. Didn't know this was gonna happen. I had ZERO INTENTIONS of writing a part two but I basically got cyber bullied into making another so here ya go fuckers. Someone literally threatened to stop taking their meds so to whoever that was I hope you get to keep your kidney! Enjoy! This part is inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,111

Warnings: ANGST (yall thought you’re gonna get a happy ending? HAHAHAH) Some pretty negative self talk.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @lookingforamissingpage @thehighlordishere @crazylokonugget

Summary: In the days and weeks that follow your downfall with Lucien, he has no fucking clue how to go about life without you. He can’t cope. And he desperately wants to fix everything with you.

~~~~~~~

LUCIEN’S POV

I have made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I thought that would be reserved for not being able to protect Jesminda. No. This… this is… I don’t even know.

I’m just standing on the sidewalk, staring at our- her home. At the rustic, auburn door we painted. At its brass knob, at the rusty, creaking hinges that would ring through the house when someone came in. At the little potted plant in the corner, the vines spilling out of it.

I’ll never be back here again.

I’ll never get to hear her laugh.

I’ll never get to taste her new recipes.

I will never be able to take all that I said back. That is the most haunting feeling of it all.

I’m an awful person. After all she’s done for me. After saving my life– on more than one occasion– I went and did nothing in return. I gave her nothing for her endless kindness. All I was capable of doing was destroying the one person in my life who has given me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Unconditionally. She always loved me unconditionally. How could I have been so blind and naive to it? How did I never see it?

Gods every single time she made me something to eat, a recipe to try… she was basically shoving the bond in my face, hoping I would see it. And I never ever considered it. I was so lost in Elain. Lost in the fact that I finally had feelings for someone after Jesminda… Not once did I think it could be Yn.

I don’t deserve her. I never did. I was a bitter, rotten shell of a man when she met me. She dragged me by the arms to her house to fix me. She thought I was worthy of being saved when my own father thought the opposite. Yn put me back together. She made me who I am. And this is the thanks I give her?

Elain has said all of ten sentences to me in the past year. I haven’t been able to do anything but replay every single one of them in my head. A thousand times– a hundred thousand times. I wish I couldn’t. It’s exhausting. Constantly thinking of her. But I don’t have a choice.

I like the feeling of being able to feel again. But at the cost of Yn? At the complete sacrifice of all I’ve known for the past century? My rock? My best friend? Nothing is worth more.

But it is far too late to do anything about it. I’ve lost her.

I want her back.

Yn did things to me that no one else could. She just seemed to know when things were wrong. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how. She never tells you what you want to hear, it’s always what you need. She is the most well rounded person I’ve ever met. She’s never afraid to feel her emotions.

I envy that skill.

I’ve always hid my feelings deep down. It took years to decipher them again. But it was Yn who made me do it. She always fought for me, fought me for me. Yn never let me do it alone. Refused to, actually. Was there every step of the way and never told me I was taking too long or wasting her time.

I get it now.

And there is nothing I can do. I have nowhere to go. Tears scald my eyes as I trudge down the little path that we beat into the grass. Day in and day out.

I remember when we picked this place. We had only been in Velaris for a week or two when we stumbled across it. It was run down and needed a new roof. As a thank you for keeping Feyre safe on our journey across the Courts, Rhysand gifted it to us. Complete with a new roof, new furniture, a new kitchen for Yn to cook in. And he let us be. Well, let her be. I still had my debts to pay off.

And then I met Elain and… fuck. Everything went to shit after that.

There is no way of processing all of these emotions at once. These very real feelings I still have for Elain. And these all-of-a-sudden very fucking real feelings I now have for Yn. It’s how I imagine imploding feels like. My body wants to cave into itself and never fold back out.

I pray to the Cauldron that I do self destruct. This feeling, a mixture between irrational rage and betrayal… I don’t wish it upon another living soul. And Gods know I’d sell mine to change everything I’ve just done.

I don’t even know how I ended up at the Town House. All of a sudden I was just standing in front of it. I normally resent coming here, but for some reason I was relieved to see the bricks and busted up cobblestone sidewalk. Maybe no one would be here; Rhys was more often than not at the River House with Feyre and Nyx, indulging in the life of parenthood. Nesta and Cassian were probably somewhere in the House of Wind with Elain, Mor at Rita’s, Amren with Varian, and who the hell knows where Azriel is.

I can’t wait to be alone to scream.

Fuck, the door is locked. Of course the door is locked, no one’s here. It takes every bit of control in my shiver-ridden body to not rip the door off its hinges. And it takes even more control to not collapse against the door and break down for the whole street to see.

The lock clicks and the door opens.

I force myself to appear relaxed. I wipe my tears and brush away my loose strands of hair. No use. My face is probably as red as the burning self hatred inside my twisted heart.

“What are you doing here Lucien?” The High Lord asks.

I gulp. Of all the people, it had to be him? At least it’s not Azriel, I think. I might hate him more than I hate myself. For actually getting Elain’s attention. Yn was right, I am selfish. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were in.”

“Did you leave something?” I don’t move, and I stay deathly still. Rhys looks me head to toe, and I know he can scent me from a mile away. “Lucien, what the fuck did you do?”

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” I snarled, pointing a finger at his chest.

“I don’t need to read your thoughts. Your face says it all.” Rhys crosses his arms over his chest, “Look, we’ve all told you that Elain is hard to reach these days. She isn’t worth-”

“This… this doesn’t have anything to do with Elain.” I lied. He seemed to know it. “Can I just come in?”

Rhys just steps aside, shutting the door behind me. “I don’t really have time for-”

“I fucked up.”

“Clearly.”

“Rhysand,” I said. So full of disgust. He looked at me with a blank expression. One I have seen too many times to not know what comes next. I eased up my tone. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” he answers, moving around me and heading into a study on the other side of the living room.

I can’t help but think of how we all gathered in that living room a few months ago for Solstice. Exchanging gifts and drinks and smiles and stories. I vividly remember making Yn laugh so hard she tipped her head over the arm of the couch, sending her wine tumbling to the ground. The stain still on the small rug almost makes me smile, and it almost makes me burst into tears.

“I ruined everything in my life. Yn’s gone.” I could feel the air freeze around me. “Not like, gone gone but she’s… I don’t think I’ll ever be seeing her again.”

“So this is because of Elain.”

I bit my tongue so hard I thought I’d bite it off completely. But I sighed, the tears coming with it. “Yes.” A really long pause. “She told me I’m-”

“You’re Yn’s mate?”

“Yes.”

“And you never knew because you were so focused on Elain.” “Is that supposed to be a question?”

“It was, but you just gave me your answer,” Rhys sat. “Do you want me to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what happened?”

I took the biggest breath I could, steading my words. “I missed the opening of her restaurant because I was with Elain.”

Rhysand looked at me with such revulsion that I thought he might put me through a wall. Those wicked, violet eyes could’ve boiled my bones. For a split second I wished he would. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I don’t think there were enough words in the world for how much of an awful person I was.

“There are things in this world that we sacrifice in this world Lucien,” Rhys said.

Hesitantly, “I know.”

“And Yn gave up the biggest of them all. She shut her mouth to let you be happy. She did what I did for Feyre until she realized what situation she was in. You are one spineless bastard for doing anything but giving your life to her.”

“I know.”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done to her? She gave you everything you could ever ask for. From the moment the two of you stepped in my Court I could tell she only had eyes for you. When you are in the room you’re the only one she looks at. How could you have not known?”

“I don’t know…” “Yes, you do.”

I plunged my nails into my palms. “For Cauldron's sake Rhysand of course I know.”

“Then why did you continue to ignore Yn?”

“Because I couldn’t ever let myself think a female like her would like such a broken, dismantled and lost soul like mine.” Rhysand stared at me. “When Yn pulled me from the border to fix me, she spent every waking moment of her life stringing my mind and body into one piece. If I let myself think for even a second that it was anything other than kindness, I would’ve gone mad.”

“Would it have been so terrible to love her?”

“I’ve always loved her. I just never thought I’d be allowed to love her the way she loves me.”

“Because of Elain?” “Because of Elain.”

Rhys blew out a breath, sitting down on the corner of his desk. “So, let me see if I have all of this correct. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for Yn because you thought you were unworthy. Instead, you sabotaged both of your happiness for Elain simply because she was your mate and you just wanted to feel something?”

“It sounds so much more fucked when you say it outloud.” I rubbed my hands over my tired, burning eyes. “And it’s not just because she’s my mate, Rhys. I genuinely like her. She’s… she has the potential to be so sweet. I’ve seen glimpses of it, heard stories from Feyre and Nesta. Why won’t she let me see?”

“You are still clueless, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Here you are, a ruined man because you drove away your best friend, and you’re still worried about someone who doesn’t want you. Pathetic. You are a selfish son of a bitch.”

“I can’t just ignore Elain. It’s impossible to think of anything else but her and how I can help her.” “Lucien,” Rhysand stopped me from going on another tangent. “Maybe start considering that she doesn’t want you.”

“What?” My lip trembled. “N-No she… we have a bond. It’s there she just needs time. I’m her mate, she’ll want one eventually.”

“Just like Yn will want one?” His eyes were as viscous as the tone of his voice. “You are doing the same thing to Yn that Elain is doing to you. You understand how that feels. Now imagine that Elain was the one you found on the border of the Spring Court and you spent decades nursing her mind back into her body. Recreating her personality and passions. Wouldn’t you be a little fucking irate if she started showing interest in another male after all you did for her?”

I froze.

This was so much deeper than I ever thought it could be. But I could see it. Bringing Elain back to herself all for it to be thrown away by another male. Azriel filled that roll, and I was filled with raw fury at the mere thought of that happening.

“So now you see what Yn has been dealing with. And Gods, Lucien, she has been dealing with it for a long while. What you did was wrong, unjust, and unfair. And for you to be with Elain on the day of her grand opening, where all of us just were, is… that may be unforgivable.”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven for what I’ve just done…”

My shoulder hunch, and my chest cracks. I am a bleeding mess of tears. I can barely stand as I openly sob in front of Rhys. I’m surprised when he shoves a chair under me instead of letting me crumble to the floor in my self induced agony. And I’m even more surprised when he puts a hand on my shoulder.

It’s Yn. It’s always been Yn. There is nothing in this world that can compare to her or her kindness or her love. What a fool I have been to not take the hand that was given me. What a selfish, self-serving waste of a man I have been to her.

I can’t take it. I have to have her back. I have to fix this. I have to. I have to. I have to.

I stand. “Woah, what are you doing?” Rhys tried to get me to sit down.

“Yn- I have to fix this with Yn-”

“No,” Rhys slams me back into the chair. “You are not going to march back over there.”

“I have to,” I yelled. “I can’t let her kick me out without her knowing that I’m sorry. That I’ll do anything she wants me to to win her back. I can’t be without her, I need her.”

“She kicked you out?” I nodded. “You’re not going anywhere. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. Nothing you could say to her would suffice. Especially right now. She needs time. She needs space. If I find out that you go back to your- her house, I’ll drop you back in the Spring Court, do you understand me?”

I nod viciously.

“Good,” Rhys let out a heavy breath. “You can have your old room back. Nothing in it but a few storage boxes. Everything is otherwise untouched.” Great. My old memories to haunt me. Just what I needed. For a very short week we stayed here. Yn’s room was right across from mine. Just another reminder of everything that’s happened between now and then.

I slump in the seat, letting tears trickle down my nose and onto my knee. Watching them evaporate and dry, just for the material to be soaked again. “I’m so sorry Yn…”

I heard Rhys whirl around, and I could feel the tension across the room. He probably thinks I’m mad. I might as well be.

More footsteps sounded than people in the house and Cassian walked in the room. Luckily I was facing away from him. “Don’t tell me he’s a part of our special detachment.”

I rolled my eyes. Cassian, ever the charming.

“No, he’s… well, he’ll be living here for a little while.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped. No one spoke. I sighed for what felt like the billionth time today. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Cassian asked, coming to stand next to me, his body reeking of sweat and dirt. All I had to do was lift my head and I think he understood enough. That or Rhys told him. “I won’t say anything cause I’ll probably just make it worse.”

“Probably,” Rhys nodded.

“Probably.” My eyes burned, so did my skin. “I have to get all my stuff out tomorrow. She told me to.”

“Then you’ll do it tomorrow. Not tonight, tomorrow. Respect her wishes, or I will make you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“We’ll be back,” Rhys grabbed a few things from his desk then ushered Cassian out the door. “Don’t do anything. Just stay here.”

It could’ve been twenty minutes or two hours until I finally moved upstairs. Forcing myself to not go to Yn’s room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. All the conversations we had, all the plans we made. It’s where she first got the idea of her restaurant. She literally had a dream and made it a reality.

I’d be lying if I said I told her how proud of her I was. I never have. Why have I never told her that? Could I really have been that caught up in Elain that… Wow. It’s funny how you only realize after the fact.

My bed caught me as I collapsed into it, tucking my knees into my chest. I am such a loser. Pathetic. Just like Rhys said. My heart would burn up and die at this rate. It was a mystery how I hadn’t burst into flames yet.

There are so many things I need, and Yn takes the top of the list. She had always been everything I needed. When I needed comfort, I went to Yn. When I needed solutions, I went to Yn. When I needed answers, to be heard, to be validated, to be loved… who was I supposed to go to now? Definitely not Rhys or Cassian, and certainly not Elain.

Maybe for the first time ever I wanted nothing to do with Elain. I didn’t want to see her. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again. Her presence in my life has done nothing but tear my other relationships apart.

She’s the reason I’m here in this mess.

_____

At some ridiculous hour of the night– morning? Is that the sun?– I heard the door open. I shot up, then deflated down. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t at home. And that wasn’t Yn walking in the door.

Every thought and emotion rushed back into my head, creating an endless tangle of thoughts. The next more horrid and self destructive than the last. I deserve it.

Missing the opening of her restaurant, Latibule–an ancient word for refuge or safe place–was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never be able to make that up to her. I turned her biggest accomplishment into a slimy, diseased memory. I ruined what was supposed to be the best night of her life.

I’ve let her down in a way I’ll never be able to repair.

Even Rhys and Feyre were there last night. And I wasn’t. Nesta and Cassian. Azriel, Amren, Mor… they were all there, supporting her. And I was with Elain. She probably wanted to go, and I was there, holding her back.

I need to get out of this room before it crushes me whole.

I could see the sun just barely peeking over the Sidra when I stepped outside, cloak wrapped tightly around my head and shoulders to keep out the early morning bite.

There wasn’t a soul around, Velaris still blissfully asleep besides this one small corner store that sold hot tea and pastries all hours of the day. Rustling in my pocket was just enough for a peach turnover and a cherry blossom tea.

The bell chimed above the door as I walked in, knocking my boots against the step to not track dirt in.

“Early start to the day, Luc?” Ms. Immy smiled from behind the counter, polishing a few mugs before moving to come to the display case, packed full of delicious goods, savory and sweet.

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

“Well I am glad to have you in, the usual?”

“That would be great, Ms. Immy.”

The lovely owner of the bakery was Ms. Immy. One of the older members of the Night Court but as wise as they come. She’s the kindest, most gentle fae to roam Prythian. With her soft, sage green eyes and long, slender ears adorn with piercings, Ms. Immy was by far one of my favorites here.

The kettles whistled behind her as she dipped a tea bag into my mug. Ms. Immy always had designated mugs for her regular customers. Mine was made of green clay, mostly green with a white oval on the front with two lines of flowers. In the center of it all was a simple fox. She once told me that I had the spirit of one of those extinct creatures in the human lands. That I was reserved, and at my core I fiercely protected those I cared about.

If only I had been able to protect Yn from myself.

Her mug had been one crafted of the moon and the stars. With all the constellations of the Gods being lifted into the air by the magic of the Cauldron. Ms. Immy had told her it was a visual representation that Yn was a great reminder of the past to the current world. That she was lost art that was to never be forgotten.

There is nothing I want more than for the rest of the world to be loved as fiercely as she had loved me.

“Here is your tea, Lucien,” Ms. Immy set the mug on the counter, pushing up the glass case and plucking a peach turnover out. “And for you as well.”

“Thank you,” I tried to smile. I stared at the blackberry tart next to the peach turnovers. Yn’s go-to. It made my blood run cold.

I put the coins in her hand before I could begin to cry again and scooted out the door as another person was coming in.

The table and chairs outside were hard and covered in a light mist. It creaked as I sat, just as it always did. I should've sat anywhere else, but my body naturally drifted to this exact spot. It had a good view of the street so Yn and I could watch the people walk by. Pretending we know every bit of their personal lives and beyond. Make up extravagant stories and adventures for the most boring looking individuals in hopes they may one day get to go on them in another lifetime.

Gods she is everywhere. She’s in the tavern across the street, in the stones on the ground that we used to kick on our walks. She’s in the sunrise, the same color of her heated cheeks filling the sky. There is no escaping what used to be my whole world.

Silently, I let a few tears roll down my cheeks. I ought to be ashamed of showing so much emotion in public, but for some reason I can’t find the will to care.

The door chimes and footsteps go back down the street. The door chimes again.

“My fox boy,” Ms. Immy says so softly I almost don’t hear it over the roar in my ears. “What troubles you so badly you can’t sleep?”

I bite my lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. “I don’t know how to fix something that I’ve done.”

“You missed the opening of Yn’s restaurant.” She says.

I nod. “How did you know?”

“Because I did not see you there, fox boy.”

“She kicked me out, Ms. Immy. I deserved it, every bit of what she said was true.”

“I think that is true, Lucien,” Ms. Immy came and sat in Yn’s spot, folding her hands in her lap, letting out a breath of air as she extended her old, feeble legs. “Nobody is happy with what you’ve done but-”

“I didn’t mean to blow her off Ms. Immy I just-”

“But,” she cuts me off with a pointed look. “I think you are a very lost soul. For the first time in your life you are truly free. No High Lord to obey, no throne to fight for, no war to fight in. Just a High Lord to serve and to respect. You have everything you could ask for, and yet you have no idea what to do with it.”

She’s right. She’s always right. “I want to fix it. I have to.”

“I am afraid that may not be what the spirit of the Gods wants.” Why is it that I get called fox boy and Yn get’s called something as majestic as ‘spirit of the Gods’? “If those are her wishes, you are going to respect them. Eternally.”

“I will go mad. If I don’t have her by my side for the rest of my life I will go mad.” “So you share a bond with her as well?” She asks.

“I don’t know. All I do is that I haven’t stopped crying and shaking at every reminder of her. No matter how small. Life without her in it is meaningless to me. Afterall, she is the one who gave it back to me.”

“And a good job she did, fox boy,” Ms. Immy smiled softly. “You are a good male who has been blinded by instincts. While it is not your fault, it has become your problem. And by the looks of you, it seems like it has become quite the ordeal.”

My shoulders dropped as I put my head in my palms. I breathed. “I don’t know how to function without her. She has been there, every day of my life, for nearly seventy years, Ms. Immy. We did everything together. Our mornings were spent as one, our evenings, all the restaurant planning and-and brunches here with you-”

“Breathe, Lucien-”

“How am I supposed to just pack up my things today and move on? H-How am I supposed to just carry on as if she never existed in my life? The thought of not being able to see her every day makes me want to peel the skin off my flesh.”

Ms. Immy looked at me, the hard lines in her face becoming more defined. “Listen to me very carefully, fox boy. What’s done is done. You cannot go back in time and take back what you said. The worst of it is over. Now comes the long process of trying to piece your life together. Whether Yn will be able to help you will depend on what you decide to do in the next several days. If you follow her wishes of moving out and staying clear, there could be a chance in the future. But, if you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope.”

If you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope… Words have never stunned me quite as forcefully as Ms. Immy’s had. The true gravity of the situation has set in, if it hadn’t already. One wrong move and she’s gone. For good.

“There is a reason why you are my little fox, Lucien,” Ms. Immy stood, taking my cold mug that I hadn’t touched. “They were intelligent, cunning creatures, just as you are. Do not let your instincts guide you to a decision. Let your heart and the facts do it for you.”

“The facts? What facts?” “The fact that you have screwed up. The fact that Yn has made a decision for you since you were incapable of doing it yourself. It is truth, and it hurts, but it has to for change to come.” And then she went inside.

I sat with those final words for far longer than I anticipated. It was long enough for people to begin leaving their homes, the streets beginning to fill with people.

Yn would be out of the house by now, opening for the restaurant’s breakfast hours. I could go now. Or I could stay here and try to blend into the hundreds of faces passing in and out. But I need to move. Yn might come in for her apple cider and blackberry tart. If I saw her right now I’d surely do something stupid.

As I walked, the clouds blocked out the sun and it began to drizzle. The drizzle turned into a steady rain, then a downpour. I was soaked through my cloak and boots, water seeping in and out with every step. My hair stuck to the back of my neck.

I kept my head down as I walked, afraid of being recognized. If Ms. Immy had been there to not see me at Latibule, who else?

The cobblestone ended and mud replaced it. I knew where I was.

The old, beaten path dared me to go up to the house. It beckoned me. From here, at the bottom of the hill, I could see several boxes stacked up outside the door, the disposable brown material soaked through with the rain. She was serious…

Some part of me– the extremely selfish part– has been secretly hoping that she’ll tell me she made a mistake and that she wants me back. But I think those boxes are a not-so-gentle-shove in the opposite direction.

The key in my pocket might as well have been the key to another universe, because when I opened the door it was like I entered a whole new world. One without me in it. All the pictures of us, all the paintings Feyre had done for us, were off the walls. All the plants and trinkets and decorations I gifter here were piled in the corner for me to collect.

How could so much damage have been done in just a few hours?

One by one, I packed away the things into the soggy boxes. I moved from room to room. Silently. Hoping this was all a dream only to be launched back into reality with every memory that surfaced. Every possession I had given her in the last seventy years was piled here for me to take.

She wanted no trace of me here. And I didn’t blame her. I don’t want any trace of me either.

I must’ve stayed there for hours– crying, packing, reliving moments I had long forgotten only to cry again– because it was close to sunset now. Every trace of me was packed up; all those pictures, all those trinkets, all my clothes and bathing goods… everything I owned fit into these boxes. Everything except for the one person I didn’t want to do life without.

But Rhys and Ms. Immy are right. If I try to do something now, to get her back, I’ll ruin any real chance. That is something I can’t afford.

To an immortal, a few months or years equivalates to just a few minutes of human life. But if it takes years for Yn to accept me back in her life…

Besides the clothes and membranes from the Autumn and Spring Courts, I discard everything. I will tear myself to bits if I don’t get rid of them. Will I regret it down the road, probably, but I can’t have them.

The two boxes and bag of clothes I carry from her house to the Town House are water logged and falling apart. It’s a miracle they didn’t unravel completely. Just add more humiliation to a High Lords son dragging boxes and bags through the street. I deserve all the stare’s and hushed questions.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sights of Rhys and Cassian helping me carry them up the stairs.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling but-”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Just… just don’t. I don’t want your pity, Cassian.”

“I am probably the last person besides Azriel who would pity you, Lucien. And I had no intentions to belittle you for what you did. I was going to offer you a spot in my training ring if you ever needed an escape.”

His kindness shocked me. I can’t say I know the Illyrian well, but this gesture spoke a lot to his character. So I sighed, of course I thought he was going to be hostile to me. Everyone should. “Oh.”

“Training starts at eight and goes to one. Come well fed and in something warm. The top of the House is colder.”

Neither of us said anything else as he left me to unpack.

______

Some weeks later I had taken Cassian up on his offer. Him and Nesta were great at kicking my ass and telling me about it. This side of both of them was far different than the ones I had seen. Here, Cassian wasn’t a prick. He was an instructor, teaching me how to defend my life and my honor. Nesta was… less Nesat. She channeled this otherworldly presence and became one with her weapon.

Me on the other hand… it was far more difficult. Fighting and battle wasn’t rooted in my blood like it was for Cassian. It was much harder for me to get it but I sorta did. Sorta.

“Just keep working on that footwork and it’ll help with the sword placement. If you’re solid by the end of the week, I’ll put a real one in your hands,” Cassian grinned, chucking me my practice weapon.

It brought a quick smile to my face. As fast as it was there it was gone. Like most these days.

When I got home, I rifled through my closet. Brown and green and cream colored shirts after another. Where was that Night Court Blue one I had gotten a long time ago? I could’ve sworn I plucked it from the pile on the floor- no, that was a towel. I was planning on wearing it to dinner at the River House tonight for Mor’s birthday.

Oh, Yn has it. I had given it to her to wear for a meeting with a realtor when looking at properties. She had tucked it into this black leather skirt.

I’ll swing by on my way to the party to get it. Mor always liked the color on me, and said it brought out the fire in my hair. She’ll appreciate the gesture.

After a shower and some other outfit choices, I can’t help but want that blue shirt. I’ll just go get it.

Through the falling leaves, I make my way down the street, across it, and to the meadow. There are six or seven houses with smoke billowing out of their chimneys. But there, right in the distance, is her house. She’ll be at her restaurant tonight so I know I’m safe.

I scurry up the path, still worried about being seen for some reason.

Has it been easy these past couple weeks? No. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her. Or dream of anything but her. It’s awful. Not her, but the fact that somehow, someway, she is still everywhere I am. In those memories in the darkest part of the night. The darkest part of my mind reserved for her and her only.

I hadn’t dared to go visit Elain. I don’t feel the need anymore. Which is relieving and frightening at the same time. It’s like there is a gaping hole in my heart that nothing will fill. Not even training. It proves a good secondary distraction, but nothing can suppress the primary guilt I feel every waking–

What is that smell? I stopped just shy of the door, key in hand. It wants to smell like the rest of the smoke and ash wafting into the air from the nearby cabins, but it’s… more alive? What if she left the stove on? Or a candle? There are hints of woods mixed into it, but not the type of woodsy scent from pine or maple logs.

I jam the key in as fast as I can to unlock the door. What if she left the fireplace burning or had an electrical fire or-

In the span of five seconds, three things happened. One: Yn was here. And she looked so beautiful. Her eyes are bright and full of color. Two: she was being held by someone, his hands on her cheeks. Three: boiling rage shot through when I realized who it was.

Eris.

~~~~~~~~~

Part 3

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fandom

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radioactivesweet · 10 months

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Hello!!~ May I pretty pls, get more headcanons about Nyx!s/o?; Ares, Beelzebub, Loki and Tesla with a Nyx! s/o?~

(Just imagine Loki using his s/o to scare Zeus, I can’t— 💀✨)

Also, feel free to add other characters if you want ^ - ^

Ngl I'm enjoying this Nyx!s/o requests! Nyx is such a cool goddess! And yeah- Loki is definitely using her in his favour hahahah I won't add anymore character tho otherwise I'll end up posting this much much later

Ares, knowing your name and reputation - alongside the fact that his father himself was scared of you - thought you'd be as scary as you were described. Whenever your name was brought up in a conversation - which happened quite rarely - people who'd grow pale and start shivering, which scared Ares immensly, despite trying not to show it. You became a sort of boogeyman in his mind, the kind of creature you'd talk about to children to have them got to sleep. So when he actually met you and discovered you didn't appear to be that frightnening, he immediately warmed up to you, being the himbo he is. When you get close to each other, whenever he sees you, he lights up - which is kinda ironic if you think about it. Ares has his perks and self-preservation doesn't appear to be one of them. How he has become devoid of any fear towards you and instead showers you with affection is a mystery to you, but it's much appreciated. All the rumours surrounding you weren't enough to scare him away after all and he surely is one funny god to have around. Family dinner are quite funny too for you. Zeus tries to avoid them whenever he can and you can have the time of your life by frightening Zeus himself.

Beelzebub recognises how similar you two are from the first moment he met you. Both of you feared and isolated deities, whose name alone makes the earth tremble, associated with darkness and ruin, whose presence is dreadful and nightmarish. Frightnening and unpleasant, he knew he'd get along well with you. To each other though, you're both kinda warmer, despite keeping a certain level of detachement between you two. You know about Beelzebub's curse - and have seen many curses during your long life - and try to look for a solution to it, despite his resistance. Being an ancient deity gave you much more experience than his, yet helping someone who doesn't want to be helped is a difficult job. Despite everything, when you two are together, you have the certainty that nobody will ever dare disturbing you. On your own you are both terrying, together you are Heaven's worst nightmare.

Loki isn't scared of you, what he's scared of is Odin finally punishing him for one of his many pranks. You are actually the one who could save him from his miserable fate! Not even Odin would dare to punish him if it meant crossing your path. You silently checking on him is more than enough for Loki to do whatever he want without having to deal with the consequences - unless he angers you, at that rate he'd probably be annihilated, but he doesn't want to reach that point. He is mischievous, not stupid, and doesn't want to die either. At first, he has to admit it, Loki was a little put off by you. You were intimidating to say the least, but he already had his good share of frightnening deities to deal with. You can be sure he will never and ever pull a prank on you, even though he'd like to try once. It may be his last prank though.

Nikola is the child of light; you are the goddess of night. The bright scientist and the gloomy deity. Complete opposites, yet he is enchanted by you. Nikola, believing in the power of science instead of gods' doesn't really understand why you seem to be feared by others. He can see how you can appear a little intimidating but aside from that, he finds your presence quite pleasant! Nikola believes that thanks to you he may also progress with his experiments - he is quite interested in your powers too. He doesn't want you to feel like a guinea pig though, because he doesn't absolutely see you that way. You are someone he knows will be of help in his researchs and sees you as a beacon who could make humanity itself evolve. You are his partner and Nikola values a lot your opinions and beliefs. The fact that you are an incredibly powerful deity is a bonus he doesn't dislike though. Thanks to his light and your darkness, he knows you'll be able to achieve great things together.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #record of ragnarok x reader #snv #snv x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no walkure #ares #ares x reader #beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #loki #loki x reader #nikola tesla #nikola tesla x reader

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 20 days

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What's Silja's story and her relationship with Heimdall?

Ah yes! I've mustered up a story for Heimdall and Silja inside my mind, so here goes! (This is gonna be a long post lol I'm gonna pour it all here)

🔮Some Heimdall x Silja Lore! 🌌

oh and their theme song is 'Circles' by EDEN 👁️👁️

Silja was born in the times when Freyr ruled over Alfheim. As Freyr was away a lot because of the conflicts with the Aesir and Freya, Freyr and the elves decided to 'create' a being which can hold the balance and peace between the light and dark elves. Freyr merged a piece of himself with the Light of Alfheim. From there, Silja was born/created. So Freyr is kind of her father.

Silja is the goddess of memory and remembrance, as her eyes were imbued with the Light of Alfheim itself, enabling her to see everyone's past. She was raised as a princess by the elves, but she's pretty much a trophy goddess who holds the peace in Alfheim when Freyr disappeared after Odin and Freya married.

In truth, Silja became bitter and judgemental as well from her hindsight powers. She could see the elves' pasts, even when they don't remember. She's always in Alfheim, and so she desires adventures more than anything - freedom.

During the time of Odin and Freya's marriage, Silja often comes to Asgard as an ambassador of Alfheim for diplomatic reasons. That's when she finds her joy, a chance to get out of Alfheim to visit other realms. And that, was where she met Heimdall.

(YES THEY'RE COUSINS) (BUT NOT REALLY OKAY) (Heimdall had 9 mothers while Silja is born from the Light) (God that sounds so bizarre HAHAHAH)

Heimdall can see her thoughts, while Silja can also see his past. For once in their lives, they met a similar person. They quickly become the Judgy Friends™.

One day, because she could fly (another gift from the Elves) she took Heimdall away from the wall and took him strolling along other realms, showing him that the other realms are beautiful as fuck as well.

When Odin knew that Heimdall had left his post in the wall, Odin became furious and disappointed, telling him how would he entrust Gjallarhorn with him if he left his post like this.

Heimdall (with his Odin's manipulation tactics) grew distant and pushed Silja away. With Freya's banishing from Asgard and locked away from other realms, she had to stay in Alfheim to keep the Light and Dark Elves from fighting again.

Without her father figure and her only friend, Silja, who desired freedom from her responsibilities as a trophy goddess, ran away from Alfheim, which left the realm in a state of war once again. She didn't care anymore.

>>> BOOM God of War (2018) <<<<

Silja roams the Midgard and Niðavellir, helping people with her powers of memory and remembrance, learning not to judge, but also how to empathize. At first she was still judgemental about the weakness of a powerlessness human and dwarves, but from her adventures, she learned to empathize, and helping tortured souls come to terms with their pasts.

She spent most of her time roaming Midgard, but after the death of Baldur and Fimbulwinter came down upon the nine realms, she had to go back and check on Alfheim. Finding it in chaos and dead bodies of Elves are everywhere, Silja sneaked towards the Light of Alfheim, and saw a glimpse of Kratos going inside the Light.

>>> BOOM God of War Ragnarok (2022) <<<

Still helping the Midgardians surviving harsh winters, and with her seeing the pillar of thunder-ice, Silja encoutered Kratos, Atreus, and Mimir in a fight against trolls and draugrs. Mimir introduced Silja to the father-son duo.

(The way Silja was SHOCKED when she saw Kratos' past tho...)

Kratos thought that Silja mean harm to them since they killed a lot of Elves, but turned out she paid it no mind, since they won't stop warring even if the sun lights upon Helheim.

They part ways, but Atreus bumps onto Silja in his adventures with Sindri, begging her not to tell his father. Silja being the naughty goddess she is, promises Atreus not to tell Kratos.

When Kratos and Atreus brings back Tyr to Sindri's house, Silja was left flabbergasted, because she couldn't see Tyr's past at all. It was weird, because back in the days, She could see Týr's past well enough as the others. However, Mimir suggested it might be one of the many consequences of Odin's tortures.

When Kratos and Atreus' relationship grows tense, she chooses to stay silent, because Silja understands what Atreus feels. When Atreus stormed out of Sindri's house and ran to Asgard, Kratos and Freya was worried shitless about Atreus going to Asgard, so Silja offered to follow Atreus, saying she'll make sure Atreus doesn't do anything too stupid.

Plus, she knows that the first person Atreus will meet in Asgard is him. Someone needs to protect Atreus from his antiques.

Time to visit a long-lost friend 😉

---

Colored version of Silja's early design (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)

#Silja is the fun aunt to Atreus HAAHAHA #I'd set her as an ISTP Enneagram 7 #carefree and chill #daughter of Freyr because we need more Freyr appreciation #god of war #god of war ragnarok #god of war oc #heimdall gow #gow heimdall #heimdall x oc #heimdall x silja #silja freyrsdottir #heimdall odinson #sleepyconfusedpotato art #god of war heimdall

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grantgustluv · 9 months

Text

his champion - lando norris (social media au)

pairings: lando norris x fem!footballer!reader

author’s notes: just pretend it’s the same person in all the pictures ahahah

read the imagine to this on my page

part 2 out later tonight ahhhhhh just finishing editing it <3333

lando.jpg

liked by yn.jpg, ynln4, lionesses, f1 and 673,484 others

lando.jpg my champion🧡

tagged yn.jpg and ynln4

view all 864 comments

daniel3.jpg can’t wait to post all the sickening photos of you two

-> lando.jpg i’m scared

-> yn.jpg me too

-> daniel3.jpg i’ve had to hide this secret for way too long

user1 mother

user2 lando is so lucky jeez

yn.jpg love you lan🧡

charlesleclerc @daniel3.jpg i’ll join you on that

user3 can lando fight???

-> daniel3.jpg no he can’t

-> lando.jpg RUDE

daniel3.jpg

liked by yn.jpg, landonorris, f1 and 356,821 others

daniel3.jpg still not over the fact that mr norizz pulled a right baller but we move…so here’s some shots of my favourite number 4 and lando

tagged ynln4 and landonorris

view all 642 comments

ynln4 aww danny, you’re my favourite number 3

-> racheldaly3 i’m gonna ignore that thanks

user1 she’s barbie and he’s just ken

charlesleclerc i think i gagged when i saw her celebration

-> ynln4 don’t lie charlie, you said that it was a good idea

-> charlesleclerc i guess it was quite cute

-> ynln4 HA HA

user2 i love y/n and charles’ friendship

landonorris @daniel3.jpg should i be concerned that you take pictures of us whilst we’re not looking?

-> daniel3.jpg no, just make sure to check under the bed before you go to sleep

-> landonorris erm

-> ynln4 new fear unlocked: danny ric hiding under my bed with his camera

landonorris god she’s gorgeous

-> ynln4 i love you🧡

landonorris i’m so lucky

-> ynln4 i’m the lucky one

landonorris and for all of you asking if i can fight, yes i can

-> danielricciardo lie

user3 i love how we all joke about lando being madly in love but y/n is just a much in love with him as he is with her (it makes me sick)

ynln4

liked by england, f1, landonorris, lionesses and 7,124,485 others

ynln4 dream come true🤍🧡

tagged lionesses and england

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landonorris incredibly proud of you baby, i am so in love with you🧡

-> ynln4 i love you so much lan🧡

-> danielricciardo barf

-> landonorris if you don’t like it then leave

user1 the orange heart is theirs and theirs only

lionesses our number 4

lionesses it’s the beginning of change, you and the rest of the girls are inspirations

user2 SHES SO AMAZING

landonorris

liked by f1, tomholland2013, england, masonmount, alessiarusso99 and 9,862,914 others

landonorris forever sounds perfect with you

📸 @daniel3.jpg

tagged ynln4

ynln4 my love

daniel3.jpg pleasure helping you out mate

-> daniel3.jpg look at your socks though hahahah

lionesses @f1 look at our number 4s

-> f1 your biggest supporters @landonorris @ynln4

charlesleclerc congratulations you two❤️

landonorris also thanks to @alessiarusso99 and @ellatoone for helping pick out the ring

alessiarusso99 tags on being the maid of honour

-> ellatoone slow down less, think that’ll be me thank you very much

-> charlesleclerc you’ve both got it wrong, it’s me

comments have been limited on this post

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #football #lionesses #football imagine #imagine #lando norris x female reader #england

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christophersturnioloswife · 1 month

Text

MOOD (C.S)

SMUT 18+

(CHRIS X FEMALE READER)

warnings : warning list

mood | SMUT | you have been childhood bestfriends with nick you got along with all his family and friends except chris who had always given you a hard and troubled time. One day nick matt and chris had gotten into an argument in a truth or dare drink game, where something was said by matt and chris was hurt by the comment saying ‘what would you know you don’t even get good pussy’ you knew he didn’t like to be seen weak by his brothers so you excuse yourself to the bathroom knowing you were going straight to his room. You walked down the corridor down to the door of his room hearing whimpers and your name?

authors notes : SORRY THIS IS SO LONG HAHAHAH I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

chris - •

Y/N - •

nick - •

matt - •

“guys c’mon it’s not that deep it was just a a comment chris don’t be like this”

“no matts being a dick”

“says the one with a small one”

nick bursted out laughing at matts joke. i couldn’t help giggle a bit i mean it was funny but definitely not true i knew that for a fact.

“PUSSSSYYYYYY” nick yelled with his hand around his mouth.

“bro shut up” chris stormed off after that

i knew he didn’t like to be seen as ‘weak’ by his brothers there was no such thing as weak to me i knew he just didn’t like loosing an argument with his brothers even though their arguments don’t last 10 minutes.

“guys you didn’t have too say that you know he will be in a bad mood all day ugh”

“whattt is was funny you must admit”

“i will admit it was funny but boy is this gonna be hard to get him out of a mood”

i went to chris’ room hearing whimpers and your name? Maybe he could hear you coming and wanted you to come in his room already he could not have been crying about this gosh it was not that serious. I opened the room door softly so he couldn’t hear in case he was crying but i found myself staring at him head laid back in pleasure as he jerked off to a picture? Not even a porn video, a photo. I walked round to his bedside table with a pair of panties I left at their house party the other day, I must’ve left them here when Chris had carried me to his room since I was wasted. I grabbed the panties and shoved them in my mini shorts pocket and I guess Chris must’ve heard me because he opened his eyes to look straight down at his throbbing dick and then at you.

“Y/N what are you doing here oh my god I’m so sorry what the actual fuck and you probably don’t ever want to be around me again oh my god” he jumps up and off his bed rushing to find his clothes putting them on quicker than I could blink. He was fully clothed which I wanted the opposite.

it’s not like I haven’t seen Chris like this before I just haven’t got an upfront view of him.

“your acting like I haven’t walked in on you multiple times fucking a girl at a party. why are you acting soft weren’t you just hitting on me at your party practically begging for me to have sex with you.”

“shut up you know I was just as drunk as you were.”

“ is that the only reason you wanted to fuck me?” I knew he was a player but boy was he hot.

“what.”

“You heard me, I mean you kept my panties from the other night when you brought me too your room and I mean you were moaning my name about 5 minutes ago”

“Oh so you really wanna do this?”

“Oh cmon of course I do, I’ve seen the way you look at me.” I was now straddling his lap looking up at him straight in his icy blue eyes.

I shuffled around him as I felt his bulge grow bigger under my heat, god how bad I wanted it already. He wrapped his veiny hands around my waist and keeping a grip on my hips.

“Stop doing that.” He demanded in a low voice. I knew exactly what I was doing I want him to want me, bad.

I moved around some more as we kept eye contact and I saw his head go back eye pinned to the back of his head. he had grunted loud enough for nick and Matt to hear so I got off him slowly making sure he was teased enough I walked taking my time towards his door to leave. He was sat until he saw me leaving, he got up following me.

“don’t be like that you tease” he grabs your wrists pulling you back into the room, shutting the door behind him and sitting you down on his bed.

“get me out of a ‘mood’ then. Suck it.” he put his hands up acting out “ whilst saying mood.

he now stood infront of me his buldge being outlined boldly. I could see it so clearly and it was massive. I raced to remove his belt as he took of my fresh love hoodie.

“you look sexy with and without my hoodie on, I know it’s mine because it’s a special one embroided with a small c on the heart your not slick”

“oh shush you gave it to me when I was drunk on your bed and plus it smells good.”

“Sauvage Dior” “sauvage dior” me and Chris said at the same time.

“I know I saw you putting it on as you left me in your room locking it behind you when you went back out to the party”

I was left in just my bra and my short shorts as Chris smirked looking behind me to unhook your bra. I ripped off his shirt and he put his arms up as i stood up because sitting down I was too short to reach and I still could barely reach so he helped take it off, revealing his snail trail. I could only imagine the things we are going to do today and tonight. His Jeans are already falling off as I took of his belt and I pulled down his Jeans to his ankles and he removed them fully and threw them to the side. I stood up kissing him passionately as he pulled down my micro shorts leaving me in nothing but a lace thong covering basically nothing. I could see his throbbing 10inch dick in his Calvin klein boxers, there was already a patch of precum im guessing from when I was grinding at his dick. I just wanted it in me already i was pleading for it in my mind. Chris groaned as I pulled down his boxers letting his cock spring up to his stomach. God how many times could I say his cock was lengthy. I sat down on his bed not knowing what to do next, it’s not that I didn’t have experience on sex I just didn’t know what Chris wanted me to do.

“I think I remember me saying suck my dick.” he said it in such a tone I couldn’t wait a second longer too.

I dropped to my knees and readjusted myself by gripping onto his thighs. My hands led up his leg, Chris grunting in anticipation and I could tell he could wait any longer for me to give him head. I wrapped my hands around his base and slowly licked a strip from his base to his tip, I could see Chris face scrunch up in pleasure. I then put my mouth around his length and bobbed my head up and down I could feel the heat emitting from his tip.

“I can’t take it. It’s too much.”

“take it. you wanted this didn’t you”

“I expected you not too be this good”

“Oh cmon I have experience you know.”

“I know that now.” He said breathily.

I removed my lips with a pop and pumped his dick with my hands before I could see a long white string shoot out at my face. Chris was grunting like crazy. I quickly wrapped my mouth around his length to let him finish In my mouth.

“Get on the bed.” the way his voice had sounded all broken up in pleasure.

I moved myself up onto the bed. I would do anything he said to me he was so attractive when he was demanding, as if he wasn’t demanding everyday, but the way he says it so roughly. Not long after Chris had positioned himself looking straight up at me as his head was in between my thighs. He started leaving kissed on my inner thigh leaving hickeys. Now I’d have to wear his matching fresh love set with the joggers so Nick and Matt wouldn’t suspect anything while the dark red spots go away within hopefully a week.

“Look at you already so needy for me” he mumbled on my thigh.

He gave me no time to respond before his head was in between my thighs, tongue licking stripes up my pussy before he put his tongue in.

“Christopher! Ugh oh my god ah” i made such noises that i was sure Nick and Matt could hear me. I arched my Back letting my pussy grind into his face making me whimper in pleasure.

“such pretty noises you make, don’t be too loud you don’t want Matt and nick too hear us.”

I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying I was too busy moaning as he fucked me with his tongue. The way his nose was pushing into my clit I could just feel the knot open my stomach becoming tighter I was sure I was gonna come. My hands were engulfed in his hair and his hand was on my neck whilst his other being on my thigh rubbing slowly up and down.

“Chris I’m g-gon-gonna come”

“Go on sweetheart come for me.”

chris slurped up every last drop his eyes didn’t leave mine the whole time the way I panted and tried catching my breath after my high made Chris give a smirk. He trailed up my body leaving a kiss on every part of my body until he met my lips connecting them with his own.

“Let’s see how sexy you look on my cock” his words already had me whimpering and I got up off the bed letting Chris go where I was previously laying down. I sat on the side waiting for him to get comfortable as he grabbed my hips and I opened my legs putting one on the other side of his waist lining him with my opening.

His veiny cold hands were still on my waist as he guided and pushed me down on his cock. He gave me no time to adjust as he was bouncing me up and down it took everything in me not to moan so load that the neighbours would hear me.

He started thrusting his hips up as I moved myself, his pace picked up. He latched one of his hands onto my throat. Pulling me down allowing him to hit another spot I never knew could be hit. I whimpered as his grip tightened I was sure he was going to leave bruises with how hard his fingers were pressing into my skin. the only thing that could cover this was concealer and a hoodie.

“God I was right you look so much sexier taking my length you slut.” The dirty talk made me whine and whimper a load moan left my lips as he took me off his dick.

“Chris that was s-so good”

“Oh slut I haven’t comed yet have I?”

You shook your head

“Words ma”

ma? I knew straight after he was done fucking me he would be done with me. We would leave this room as enemies just like how I came in.

He flipped me over.

“hands and knees, sweetheart.”

He put me face down ass up. I was sure that was his favourite position. I looked back at him in anticipation lifting my head from the pillow I knew I would be back in not even 5 seconds later.

“Fuck me like you hate me” I whined in anticipation for his length to be in me already,

“Oh you know I will. Look at you moaning for your enemy to fuck you already.” He whispered into my ear as his breath was tickling my shoulder.

he put one hand on my back as I arched and he kept the other around my neck. God his hands were so cold making this even better.

“Christopher, please.”

“Please what” i moaned as he chuckled.

“use your words, princess.”

“fuck me now”

“Very demanding, use a nicer tone”

“please fuck me Christopher, please.”

“Christopher huh? You’ve been calling me that a lot, I thought you said you’d only ever call me chris?”

“Shut up”

“Shut up huh, oh I’ll make you be quiet”

I was about to talk before he cut me off by putting his length in me as he gave me no time to adjust. He picked up his pace and then he sent me over the edge as he leaned over my back sucking marks onto my sweet spot behind my ear.

Chris continued his rough pace as I saw my phone ring on the side of the bed.

“C-Chris-Christopher, it’s Matt Stop for a sss-second”

“alright.”

I reached over to the side of his bed and grabbed my phone picking up matts call as chris’ cock was still in me.

“yeah Matt what’s up?” You said pretty breathily as you were just getting railed by Chris.

“are you and Chris okay in there? It sounds like your both crying”

“Yeah ahahah he just told me a sad story we’re okay”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm tot-“ I felt chris’ dick pump brutally inside of me. God he was being such a tease, was he trying to get us caught?

“Hello?” Matt said questionably

“Oh Uhm yeah s-sss-sorry I saw a fly I was swatting it away”

“alright we’ll me and nick want to get wingstop want anything?”

I slapped chris’ hand to stop as i said our orders.

“Uuuhhh that should be it”

“what’s up with you don’t you not like chris and now your suddenly sharing a meal with him”

“Gosh he must be telling her a sob story to make her feel bad for him” I heard nick yell on the phone.

“shut up” chris muttered into the phone

“I heard that and I’m telling Nick”

“Yeah yeah whatever”

“Still in a mood?”

“No he’s not, just an attitude as always.” You added.

I hung up as chris impaled his dick straight back into me arching my back letting him hit my g spot with every hit. I moaned so loud but the silence after let me hear Nick and Matt shutting the door behind them as they left to get food.

“I’m gonna come pretty girl”

“Chris, Christopher, please.” My begging was like a melody to him.

“Of course sweetheart.” The names he used were just oh so sweet.

“At the same time” I nodded to his comment as my head was locked into his pillow my mascara dripping in my tears staining my cheeks and his pillow.

“did you want to stop, princess?” Chris muttered.

“no, no I just need to come so bad”

“does the little slut want me to come in her pussy that’s so tight.”

I nodded and that made Chris tip over the edge.

“3..2..1” chris groaned.

We both let go at the same time filling me up. He took out his dick and our juices spilled out as he pushed his dick back up to contain all of it and then taking it back out. The rest that had already leaked over my pussy he licked up and took it into his mouth leaving some on his finger sticking it in my mouth.

“We taste so good mixed together don’t we”

“Mhm” I whimpered as I was still riding out my high.

“You did so good princess.”

I crawled over his bed standing myself up but falling straight away.

“Careful” he picked me up bridal style and ran me a bath.

He put me on his sink as it filled up and he put bubbles in it knowing how much I loved it.

“C’mon” he picked me back up and slid me into the bath

he left me in the room and picked up my panties, his custom fresh love hoodie and went to his wardrobe to get his matching custom fresh love sweatpants. He picked up his clothes and had set them on his gaming desk.

He cleaned his room removing his mascara smudged pillow case and cum stained sheets. Putting them in his wash basket, he grabbed fresh new white cover and redid his bed making it look like nothing had happened.

“Christopher, come lay with me for 10 minutes pleasee” I pleaded.

“Alright love” he walked over and sat behind me and I laid back onto his chest.

Ten minutes had gone by and I could hear nick and Matt coming back in the house yelling over something.

“Shit” i stood up from my comfortable position cuddling Chris. I could now stand on my own. I hopped out the bath and dried myself off. Chris unplugging the bath letting the water drain.

“Baby i set out your clothes on my bed”

“Thank you”

I got dressed rapidly and grabbed Chris’ clothes off his desk and threw them at him.

“Get dressed our food is heree”

“I thought you were getting dressed so we weren’t caught.”

“Yeah well and that.”

Chris got dressed and walked up behind me and gave me a hug from the back.

“I’m hungry let’s go”

We went to Matt and nick seeing them already eating their food. I skipped over to the table in their kitchen and saw me and chris’ food set out. I sat down and ate my food. Chris grabbed his and walked to sit next to Matt.

“Yall fucked I can tell Y/N is wearing new clothes and she had a bath and same with you Chris”

“YALL NASTY EW IM GOING” nick grabbed his food rushing to his room. Matt followed and ran to his room with his food.

“Well fuck” I said and looked at chris. chris moved chairs to the one next to me and we ate our food giggling and laughing the whole night until we went to his bedroom and finished our night cuddling.

THE NEXT MORNING

I woke up to being in chris’ room. FUCK. I remember all of last night I was drunk enough to have sex with Chris god what is wrong with me.

“what the fuck am I doing here”

“oh uhm Y/N what happened why are you in my room, and in my bed.”

“Chris don’t you remember we had sex last night, I guess we were just so drunk”

“Oh yeah right” he chuckled. It looked like he didn’t give a fuck just like I knew he wouldn’t.

“Chris we only fucked because we were drunk, that’s it.”

“Yeah I know that”

I stormed out of his room running straight to nicks. I burst into his room seeing him awake

“You out of it now.” He laughed out.

“Shut up I was drunk”

“I know, I know.”