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sinofwriting · 7 days

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I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #I ❤️ MILFS verse #I was on something when I came up with this idea and the name of this fic

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blacktabbygames · 5 months

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Hey folks! Thank you so much for making Slay the Princess' launch month an absolutely incredible experience. The game already have over 3,700 reviews on Steam, 97% of which are positive, and a 91 critic score on metacritic, making it the 15th highest rated release in 2023 across all platforms, and the 3rd highest rated PC release of this year.

We can't express how much it means to us to see it resonate with so many people.

Today is the start of voting for the Steam Awards, and we'd appreciate it if you could lend Slay the Princess your vote for Outstanding Story-Rich Game. You can only submit one game per category, and you can only submit one category per game, so if everyone focuses on this one, we might stand a chance! You can vote for us here:

Today is also the start of the Steam Autumn Sale! Slay the Princess unfortunately isn't participating (Steam doesn't let you participate in sale events until 30 days after your launch, so we just missed the cut-off here) but Scarlet Hollow is 25% off!

I'd also like to take the chance to highlight a couple of bundles we're in that have stackable discounts.

The Cartoonists Turned Gamedevs Bundle

Meredith Gran's Perfect Tides is, I think, one of the most criminally underrated narrative games of at least the past several years. Some of the point-and-click mechanics can be a little challenging to navigate, but the art, writing, and overall experience is absolute top-of-class. I cannot recommend this highly enough, and if you already own Scarlet Hollow, you can get Perfect Tides for an additional 10% off its sale price whenever it's discounted by finishing this bundle: https://store.steampowered.com/bundle/29945/Cartoonists_Turned_Game_Devs/

Horrors of the Heart

If you want some romance with undercurrents (or overcurrents) of horror and the supernatural, the Horrors of the Heart bundle contains a few horror visual novel staples, including the excellent Girl-Cthuhlu-Dating-Sim Sucker for Love, and charming stuck-in-a-cabin-for-too-long Cooking Companions. Same deal as the Perfect Tides bundle: if you own any of the games in it, you can still pick up the others and get that extra discount: https://store.steampowered.com/bundle/26929/Horrors_of_the_Heart/

That's all we've got for you for now. It looks like we've zeroed in on a date for rescheduling the Slay the Princess livestream (December 16th), but we'll do a more formal announcement once that's wholly set in stone.

In terms of development work, we're taking a little time off following Slay the Princess' release, but the gears have already started turning for Scarlet Hollow Episode 5, so keep your eyes peeled for more updates.

All the best, Tony

#slay the princess #scarlet hollow #steam sale #perfect tides #sucker for love #visual novel #indie games #horror #interactive fiction #narrative design

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saigethearies · 7 months

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enter, if you dare, to

TERRORTOBER

hi, guys! so this is my first attempt at an event :)

i absolutely love halloween and have always enjoyed kinktober pieces so i wanted to take a stab at it (ha get it)

just a heads up, all of these pieces will contain smut and some of them will have dark content as well. since i’m still in the process of writing the fics, appropriate warnings will be placed at the top of all the finished works once they’re posted

for the reasons stated above, and this should already go without saying, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT with any of the works that will be linked to this post

pieces will be posted at approximately 9 pm est on each date specified below and each contain an afab!reader

now, without further ado

october 1st: vampire!kei tsukishima

after revealing his long-kept secret, kei finally allows himself an indulgence he’s craved for ages.

october 4th: alien!osamu miya

while on an expedition into space, your budding romance with osamu came as a pleasant surprise- the murderer hiding amongst your crew, not so much.

october 7th: boyfriend!megumi fushiguro

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

october 10th: serial killer!keiji akaashi

a heartbreaking betrayal leads you to seek comfort from the very person that plunged you into this nightmare.

october 13th: cultist!eren jaeger

unbeknownst to you, zeke has chosen you to be his cult’s next virgin sacrifice. a pining eren knows exactly what he needs to do to save you.

october 16th: demon hunter!tobio kageyama

your unlikely partnership with tobio was just that- a partnership. that is, until the vacant room at the motel had only one bed.

october 19th: stalker!kento nanami

you think the handsome man you always see at the bakery has zero interest in you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth.

october 22nd: camp counselor!tetsuro kuroo

seeing how good tetsuro is with kids has you wanting him to put one in you.

october 25th: veteran!jean kirstein

jean’s wish for a normal life after returning from overseas gets derailed from the onslaught of an undead virus. he ends up finding solace in the form of you.

october 28th: werewolf!hajime iwaizumi

when hajime starts to experience odd changes in himself, his worst fear threatens to become reality. hopefully you can outrun him.

october 31st: ghostface!kiba inuzuka

your anxiety amidst a string of hometown murders takes a turn for even worse when the face behind the mask ends up being the one you trusted the most.

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lexisecretaccx · 1 month

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High School Sweethearts pt. 10 - Chris Sturniolo

PT1, PT2, PT3, PT4, PT5, PT6, PT7, PT8, PT9, (other parts in my Masterlist!)

(Fem reader x Chris sturniolo, arguements, mean & suggestive comments about y/n, idk)

A/n: bro the negative tension and uncomfortableness in this part is too real.. y/n eats Evan up at the end yall.

“Good looking too.” My mom raises her eyebrows to me and smirks, “yep.” I awkwardly say before turning back around on my heels and going to walk up the stairs, “wait, I wasn’t finished talking.” My mom spoke, her happy tone faltering slightly. I turn back around and she motions for me to sit on the couch.

I sit down and she sits in the arm chair opposite me, “what?” I ask impatiently, “watch your tone.” She tilts her head and clears her throat before continuing and I look down at my hands, “The Watsons invited us for dinner later.” My head shoots up at her, “you’re talking about the Watsons as in Evan Watson?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah and I said we’d go, for old time sake.” She smiles, completely ignoring the discomfort in my body language and voice. “No.” I scoff before standing up and walking to the stairs, “excuse me? You are coming, they miss seeing you!” My mom tries to convince me. “No!” I repeat, “their son is an asshole who treats girls like shit!” My tone loudens and my mother’s smile drops.

She walks towards me her teeth gritted, “We are going, maybe Evan will be nice.” I scoff and roll my eyes, “I shouldn’t even be letting you do anything nice after you attacked Evans best friend.” My mom hisses, “I’m doing this so you can have a nice future!”

“No, you’re doing this so you can have a good reputation and you want me and Evan to end up together so you’re the mother of the girl who married into the Watson’s family,” I walk closer to her, “I said this yesterday, me and Evan are never going to be together.” I rub either side of my temples.

“Evan probably won’t even be there, since he has friends.” My mom swallows angrily, “he won’t?” I ask again, not truly believing her. “I’ll ask them now,” she pulls out her phone and starts typing.

5 minutes later she smiles, “I just checked with his mother and he’s not gonna be there because he’s got football practice.” She smiles, “you comforted now?” I shrug. “I’m only coming because I don’t think I have another choice.” I walk up the stairs, “put on a pretty dress!” My mother calls up.

We have to leave at 5pm, it’s 4pm right now, I call Chris and he picks up instantly, “you okay?” He asks, “no, I have to go for dinner at.. guess whose house.” I answer, “I don’t know.” He replies confused. “Evans house, apparently he won’t be there but my mom is forcing me to go.” I whine, “what the fuck.” Chris says, “I know, I’ll text or call you if anything goes wrong.” I look through my wardrobe, “yeah do that, promise me you’ll be okay.” Chris spoke softly. “Yeah of course, I gotta get dressed now but I’ll talk to you later?” I ask, “yeah of course, talk to you later ma.” He hangs up.

I put on a purple dress, I look in my mirror, that dress makes you look fat. Evans words rang through my ears, this was the dress I wore to my 16th birthday party, but he made me feel so bad about myself, not a good memory attached to this dress. I rip the dress off and grab a red satin dress that I had, I can’t remember when I got it.

I slip into the dress, it’s a dark red and backless, it goes to just above my knees, I don’t know if it’s too revealing but I’ll pair it with a jacket for my own comfort, I grab a creme jacket and do my hair and place a creme bow in the back. I look down at the blood stained ring on my hand, the blood wouldn’t come off even in the shower.

I shrug and keep it on.

“You look, nice.” My mom says, she’s wearing a black dress that goes just past her knees, she’s wearing black heels too, I’m just in white sneakers. She looks at my choice of footwear and rolls her eyes, “come on.” We walk outside and into the car. At this point it’s 4:57pm and we should get there at 5:15, knowing it’s only a 15 min drive to his house.

We pull into his large driveway, his massive house infront of us, three stories and very victorian style. I don’t even know how we got together in the first place since he was rich as fuck and I was.. managing to get by.

“Brings back old memories huh?” My mom smiles at me, I shrug. The only memory it brings for me is the time he tried to, you know.

We knock at the door and Evans mom, Katherine opens the door, she looks at me and smiles. “Don’t you look so beautiful!” She pulls me in for a hug and I stand rigid. “Thanks.” I whisper. “Evan will be happy to see you.” She replies, I instantly look to my mom who awkwardly looks away and smiles at Katherine.

She leads us into the house and me and my mom follow, “you said he wasn’t gonna be here!” I whisper yell, “there was no other way to get you to come.” She keeps a straight face and doesn’t look at me. “You’re a liar.” I sigh and she ignores me.

We walk into their massive living room, the tall windows and ceiling haven’t changed much. I see his father James walk up to us, he looks at me and then at my mom and quickly back to me, he smirks at me “you have grown up in the past year huh?” He looks me up and down, causing me to wrap my jacket around me further, I shrug.

I sit down on the large couch next to my mom as she talks to Katherine and James, Katherine directs her attention to me, “so.. how’s school?” She asks smiling kindly, Katherine is the only one of the Watsons that has some sort of genuine niceness to her.

“I don’t know..” I mumble, “She’s lying.” A voice comes from behind me, Evan. He sits down next to me and looks at his mom, “she’s a trouble maker now, it’s the boy she hangs out with.” He looks at me smirking, I have felt eyes burning into me the whole time I’ve been sat here, James is staring but not in a normal way, he’s always been kinda pervy.

“Oh? Who’s the boy?” Katherine asks me, “its-” Evan goes to speak but I cut him off, “I can speak for myself, his names Chris.” I glare at Evan before smiling at Katherine. She nods.

A lady walks into the living room, “dinner is ready.” They are so fucking rich they have a chef and a maid. We walk to the dining hall and I sit down next to my mother, Katherine opposite my mother, James at the head of the table and Evan across from me. The maid places the plates in-front of us, it’s steak.

I drown out the conversation between my mom and Katherine, James adding into the conversation too. I feel someone kick my leg under the table, I look up at Evan and he’s grinning, I roll my eyes and continue to move my steak around the plate. “Doesnt y/n look beautiful?” Katherine asks Evan and James, Evan shrugs but James replies, “she’s growing into an attractive young lady, yes.” He smirks at me.

His eyes seem to be not focused on my face but my chest. Evan clears his throat and goes to speak, “so you finally watching your weight or something? Because you haven’t touched the steak.” He spoke to me, an evil smile creeps over his face, I don’t have a reason to watch my weight, Evan is just a dick who likes to make me feel bad about myself.

My mother smiles at him, not even defending me, Katherine nudges his elbow. “That is not how you talk to a woman Evan,” she spoke angrily and looks to me before smiling, “ignore him darling you’re gorgeous.” James obviously agrees with her, creep.

“Do you two talk in school?” My mother asks Evan, pointing between me and him. I shrug, “stop shrugging its rude.” My mom quietly hisses to me, “you could say that.” Evan smirks. My mom looks at me with hope in her eyes, “if you’re talking about threatening me and being rude to me and my boyfriend then yeah I guess we do talk.” I scowl at Evan.

Katherine looks to Evan in confusion, Evans brows knit together and tilts his head glaring at me before turning to his mother, “what does she mean?” She asked him, “she’s lying.” Is all he answers with. “You always accuse me of lying especially after..” Evan clears his throat loudly, cutting me off.

I stand up and lean on the table “Can I use your bathroom?” I ask urgently. Katherine nods, “of course, you remember where it is?” She smiles awkwardly, “yeah.” I say and walk out the dining room. “Sorry about her.” I hear my mom say.

I get in the bathroom and lock the door behind me, looking in the mirror. “Fuck this.” I whisper. I hear a knock on the door, “what?” There’s no reply so I open the door, Evan is standing there looking down at me.

“Fuck you scared me.” I flinch. He chuckles, “I’m sorry about what happened in there, I don’t want to be there just as much as you.” He whispers, leaning in close to me. “I doubt it, it’s your fucking house I never wanted to come back here.” I look down at my feet, feeling intimidated by his light green eyes, staring into my soul.

“So he’s your boyfriend now?” He asks me smirking, I nod uncomfortably and push past him before walking out in the hallway. “Wait.” He says and grabs my arm turning me around to him. “Let go.” I say coldly and he does. “It was kinda badass of you to beat up Michael.” He leans into me again and I lean away. “Yeah I guess.” I awkwardly spoke.

“Your knuckles are cut up huh?” He grabs my hand and his thumb grazes over my knuckles causing me to squint in pain. “Don’t do that.” I stare at him angrily, pulling my hand out of his grip. I turn around to walk away again and he smirks following behind me. “I’ve redecorated my room, wanna see?” He asks me from behind, the obvious grin in his voice.

“Of course!” I sarcastically say, flashing him a fake smile. “Of course not. I don’t want to go to the exact room you tried to attack me in.” I continue walking down the hallway and he grabs my shoulders, stilling my walk. “Maybe I wouldn’t have almost done that to you if you weren’t such a pussy, at that rate you’re gonna be a virgin forever.” He whispered into my ear.

Anger fills my face, who does he think he is? He has no right to say shit like that. “No I won’t.” I laugh, knowing that I’m not a virgin and when he finds out he’s gonna go mad. “Oh yeah?” He asks and I continue walking, him next to me.

“Did you see Chris at lunch?” I ask him, obviously he didn’t because Chris skipped so he could be with me. “No, nobody knew where he was.” He replied, I smirk, “I knew where he was.” I look up at Evan and I point at my chest. He tilts his head, “oh really?” He smirks down at me raising an eyebrow.

How big is this fucking house, I’ve been walking around in circles because Evan keeps fucking distracting me. “Yep he was at my house,” Evans smirk drops, and I grin up at him, “guess what we were doing.” I glare at him, lowering my tone.

His eyebrows furrow, “what?” His voice softens, “it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, me and Chris in my room, in my bed.. home alone..” I slow my tone at the end of it and I wait for Evan to realise, a smile creeps across my face as his face switches to shock.

“You weren’t.” He whispers, his ego has clearly taken a hit as his face drops. I nod and smirk before walking away back into the dining room, “can we go?” I ask my mom, making her jump as I came up behind her.

“Fine, we’ve finished eating anyway.” she looks at my half eaten steak and at the maid cleaning up the dishes. Evan looks very offended and doesn’t speak. “Have you two sorted your differences?” Katherine asks as we leave the dining room, “something like that.” I look up at her smiling before throwing Evan a snarky look, he just glares at me.

We walk to the door and Katherine hugs us goodbye and this time I actually hug her back.

My mom gets into the car and so do I.

A/n: y/n is actually a girl boss, Evan fuck outta here tryna manipulate her by being flirty. Also James can make his way to the ‘to catch a predator’ set because he’s a perv!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @accio326 @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———❤️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #matt #smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #high school #high school sweethearts

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hakkasm · 25 days

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↑You can read all the pages from the link above!

[Comic] Mafia Sitter

I started writing in mid-January to submit to the Global Comic Award 2024 and finally completed it. Continuing from there is a long feedback.

The working time is two months for the main text and two weeks for the cover. Around January 11th, I received a DM from a friend saying, "There's a contest like this," and thought, "The deadline is the end of March... it's impossible for me (I've never drawn a completed comic before)." But it's a comic contest aimed at the world... My art style is only recognized in this contest... I couldn't ignore this contest. I was in the middle of making another piece, but I interrupted it, and I was full of anxiety about whether I could draw a comic in just two and a half months. However, the thought, "Instead of worrying, I should act quickly," came to my mind, and I started writing from January 13th, changing my mindset.

I spent 1 day on the script, plus 1 day typing the dialogue, and started the "completed 1 page per day" lifestyle from January 16th.

The goal was to complete 45 pages, but at the plotting stage, it was about 56 pages. When I actually started drawing the manuscript, the planned page allocation didn't match, and the total number of pages increased to 65. (I learned the importance of page allocation.) At a pace of 1 page per day, I wondered if I would make it by March... (I'm easily bored, I didn't think I could do 1 page per day.) So, I rearranged my schedule to make 3 pages on weekends, which would give me some leeway. This idea turned out to be a big success.

As a result, I achieved 1 page per day and was able to finish drawing all the pages by early March, leaving the remaining time to work on the cover, which is like the face of the comic.

Since I work as a company employee, I had to finish work by 8:00 p.m. to make time for the manuscript, which was a daily pressure. There were times when I finished the manuscript at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. on weekdays. I fell ill. At that time, I felt like giving up. (On the day I fell ill, I slept for about two hours and resumed manuscript production after my condition improved a bit.)

It was truly a life of "pushing myself to the limit", but accomplishing it gave me confidence. 'Oh, I can make a 65-page full-color comic in 2 months.' It became an advantage for me. (I don't want to push myself like this anymore, though... haha.)

Thank you for participating in the survey for the title logo! The survey results leaned towards the left logo. While the left logo was packed with concept, its font style and thickness varied, resulting in imbalance when aligned in a row and making it difficult to use in monochrome. If the left logo had overwhelmingly won the votes, I would have chosen it. However, since the right logo also received a considerable number of votes, I decided to adopt the right logo.

Now all that's left is to see the results on Global Comic Award. I'm really aiming to win. Both the script and the art are amateur-level when viewed separately, but I balanced them out to make them good enough.

It's my first comic work... I really want a lot of people to read it! *If enough people like the comic and want to get a copy of the comic book, I can make and sell it:)

#comic #original #MafiaSitter #original character #art #global comic award

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nicromancytarot · 2 months

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HOW I GOT STARTED IN TAROT AND MY TIPS FOR ANY OF YOU WHO ARE NEW TO IT!!!

I love to offer advice if you can’t already tell, and I also love tarot, so let’s talk about things that I have learnt from my journey as a tarot reader.

My journey

I started tarot at 14 years old while living with a family member who was shut off to the idea of spirituality, as it had hindered the life of my own mother, and caused her mental health issues in the past.

I decided to go against their requests and start practicing in secret, I didn’t have my own income so I wasn’t able to buy my own deck, instead I decided to make one. (Tarot is a tool, you don’t need “actual” tarot cards to be able to read.)

I used old train tickets that I had since I would take a couple of trains 5 days a week, which would give me 1, if not 2 tickets per day.

I was mainly focused on love, so I created little tarot cards with small details about love on them, and I would use these on my friends just for a bit of fun.

Eventually these got taken away from me, so just after my 16th birthday, after not doing tarot for around 3 months at that time, I decided to buy my first tarot deck as I was now living back with my mother, and although she was sceptical about the idea, she allowed me to have my first deck and supported my journey as I dove deeper into divination.

I practiced every so often, one time I had a crush on this guy and I wanted to know how he felt about me, every spread I got for him would give me the 4 of cups… yeah, I used to think that meant he was just a little demotivated, until I realised like a year later that it meant he was absolutely not interested in me, lmao!

But this is good, learning always comes with mistakes, so do not let that discourage you.

My decks

- the Rider-Waite tarot (my main deck)

- Spirit song tarot (my favourite deck)

- (I had a purple one that I spiritually didn’t need, so it went missing and never returned like a week after I got it)

- Ethereal visions tarot

- The nightmare before christmas tarot

- Angels of abundance oracle

- Casanova tarot (for 18+)

I also use little pieces of paper that I wrote 18+ stuff on, which I now use for any explicit readings to highlight the things someone would do to my collective sexually!

Having multiple decks

I personally love having this many decks, and I 100% will be getting more, as soon as I’ve finished learning the meanings of some of the casanova tarot!

Tarot is a tool, sometimes I read explicit stuff off my main deck, and I still get very accurate messages using that, you do not need to splash out on extra decks to try and read one specific theme.

I enjoy having multiple decks as they’re all just so beautiful, and I feel blessed to be able to have them.

Having one of my decks fall off the face of the earth a year and a half ago, proved to me that I needed to really make sure that I wanted a deck and felt connected to it before buying. This deck itself was 1 actually instinctively didn’t want to buy, but went back to get for other reasons.

So don’t impulsively buy, if it’s meant for you, you’ll know.

How I do my readings

If I decide that I need to cleanse my own energy, I will do a 15-30 minute meditation, but I normally only feel called to do so when I’m doing a really intense reading that I feel I need to protect my energy from.

I start off with a simple affirmation, welcome my spirits to help guide me through the session.

“I am calling upon my ancestors and spirit guides to make sure I am protected during this reading, and that I get the most accurate and concise messages.”

Then I knock on the deck twice before doing 1 shuffle thrice, knocking twice and doing the final shuffle thrice, knocking twice.

That is my own personal way of cleansing my deck after other energies have been channelled through it. I let my decks rest with some crystals every night, and they see the moon when it’s full for an extra cleanse.

I personally find the knocking to be very simple and cleansing for my cards, and it has proved well.

After I’m done cleaning, I ask my spirits the question out loud, and then I knock twice before shuffling to get the spread.

I only take 1-2 cards at a time, if there’s more, I put them back and start shuffling again.

If no cards fall after a while, I do a final shuffle and pull from the top.

The spread varies for every reading, normally I pull around 15 cards from my main deck, and then I pull an animal from the Spirit song tarot deck, and sometimes around 12 from another deck if there’s anymore questions needing to be answered.

When reading for other people, I personally only pull upright, unless we’re doing yes or no questions (which I do upright for yes and reverse for no), I’m not a fan for reverses, although I’ve started off with them, I just find it easier to do only uprights.

I pull reverses for educational purposes when I do my own readings, that way I can make sure I learn them more than I already do, and so I can get quicker with identifying them.

As of the beginning of April 2024 I started a new spread, this is my new favourite one for mainly advice readings or something to do with the future.

I like to grab 16 cards, you can take 15, but 16 is my personal number, then I line all the cards up into 3 groups, until I pin the negative cards, this is just something I do instinctively (doesn’t have to be death, tower etc, it could literally be the 2 of cups which seems negative in the reading), on the left I set up the negative ones, and then I add a present feeling or reaction card to do with these negative things, then between the negative and feelings, I put a card to describe why the person feels like that. Then for the rest I basically branch down like the roots of a tree, it’s very sporadic and random, but it creates a story, whichever card is next to another relates to the situation, thoughts and feelings of those cards, then when you get to the right bottom side, you end up with the future energy.

LEFT —> past MIDDLE —> present RIGHT —> future

Random things that I believe in

- The star and the 4 of cups are connected, the 4 of cups represents being fussy and ungrateful, and in the the Rider-Waite tarot, the illustrations are all connected, the star happens in front of the tree which is where the 4 of cups is set, so I like to think that the star is letting go of fussiness and allowing yourself to be free.

- Death and moon are connected, death tends to talk about something you need to let go of, and you already intuitively know about it. This is since death happens in front of the moon.

- The temperance happens in front of the tower, so when you pull the temperance, it means to make a decision before the universe makes it for you, bringing you a tower moment. A good example for this is pulling it in a “how does he feel about me” reading, if you get the tower during this, I would say he feels like you’re his last option, like a plan B if his A falls through. (People hate when I tell them that.)

- The queen of cups represents stability, this is since in the the Rider-Waite tarot, she’s chilling on her throne on a small island, meanwhile the king of cups is floating in the water, showing to me that he’s just going with the flow (weirdly, when I see the king of cups, I associate him with Aquarius energy.)

- The empress is all about loud and proud energy, she’s totally the one to boast about her achievements and what she’s working on, knowing that she will succeed. The emperor is the opposite, he works in silence, he only tells everyone about his newest achievements after he’s sure about them, he likes for people to be in surprise over his success.

- If I pull some cards to check energy for the reading, and the emperor upright, or the empress in reverse comes out, probably means the person I’m reading for isn’t ready to hear this message. This is because the emperor is physical (3D) realm energy, meanwhile the empress is spiritual (4D) energy, this is because spirituality is feminine energy, if you take part in spirituality, you are tapping into your devine feminine.

- The knight of wands represents exes. The night is going to the left (the past), the wand represents fire, fiery passion/fiery ending.

Does this mean my spread may be explained differently if the illustrations are different?

In short, yes. I love symbolism with my whole heart, so when I can make something symbolic out of the illustrations on the deck to describe a reading, I absolutely will.

What does channelling and visualising look like for me?

On a good day, I’ll hear another voice that sound identical to my little internal narrator inside my head, this can be identified as my spirit guides. They will use this to tell me things I need to know, but clairvoyance isn’t really my strongest, so normally I just hear the word “catapult” over and over again, since my main spirit guide seems to love that word.

I honestly channel the most through writing, it’s like I gain so much more information when I start writing down readings, whether it’s in my notes, on tumblr, or in a notepad.

Visualising is interesting, again back with the symbolism, it comes to me in a little story for me to unfold and find a moral of, it’s very time consuming, and I often get confused and think I’m insane, so I’ll pull some cards on it just to be sure I have the story right.

Important notes

- communicate to your spirit guides, I like to tell them exactly how the reading is going to go, just so they understand the format and what, I am looking for.

- Don’t do readings when you don’t feel like you should, if you’re mentally not doing ok, don’t feel bad if you need to step back and away from it, forcing yourself will just give you confusing readings.

- Your spirits hide answers from you, one time I asked my spirit guides how life works, and they refused to tell me (and then had a silly moment and told me like 3 months later for whatever reason.)

- This is not future telling, I cannot tell you what your future will be like, but I can tell you what it might be like if you make certain decisions.

- Don’t use tarot to intrude on someone’s personal life, like no sex readings on your ex for the love of God.

- If a reading doesn’t resonate with you, remember what it said and then come back to it to see if it does now, an example of this was when someone gave me a past life reading that didn’t match up until I reversed it and realised that I was the second person in the reading, rather than the main.

- Have fun with readings, it shouldn’t feel like a chore.

- Allow yourself to make mistakes, that’s the only way you will improve.

- Be patient, don’t think you will know everything about tarot after like 1 week of learning it.

- There’s always more to learn when it comes to tarot, you will never have enough knowledge.

- You can buy yourself decks, even your first one. You don’t need to have another person buy it for you.

I hope you enjoyed this! It took me an hour to write up lmao, but I had fun.

#pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot witch #daily tarot #pick a pile #tarot cards

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milknhonies · 3 months

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The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 3 || MasterList || Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: The ten year anniversary soiree is here for August's Lion Lounge club. And he's awfully surprised to see you, an uninvited guest...careful now....

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Gambling, Non-Con, Piss, Manipulation, Threats, Sexual Assualt, Bondage, Murder, Violence, Strangulation, Public Execution, Kidnapping, Bondage, Slight Daddy Kink, Slight Puppy Play Kink, Petnames.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 8k

Author Notes: I honestly don't know how to gamble or how it works. I read a quick wiki instruction and played a game. If anyone actually knows how to play, let me know and I'll change the writing.

Inspiring Song: "Poker Face." By Lady Gaga.

07:00pm Friday 16th August 2024, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane.

When Lloyd met you in the foyer and escorted you to the car, you noticed how his neck was tight against his bow tie. His bruised face and knuckles had lightened. He had waxed his moustache and curled the tips upward.

He whistled low and gawked at you all over. Your foot rubbed the back of your calf shyly. You were decadent in pearls and metallic shimmering from your dress.

He reminded you that your role was too find August and do whatever you could to distract him from figuring out that Lloyd, a police officer undercover had infiltrated his event.

Lloyd gave you another hundred dollars and said it was for gambling and pleasure purposes only. If August could be distracted by a drink, a game of poker, a jukebox dance even a pokie machine, that should give Lloyd plenty of time to look around for an illegal weapons auction.

You both got out of the car and found yourself escorted on his arm passed the body guard checking the invites.

You clenched a small purse under your arm tighter as you entered the massive club. It left you briefly speechless.

The floor was covered in black and gold mixed marble. The club was an old building. Probably over a century or two old. It had a huge bar and multiple show rooms. On one stage was a burlesque dancer shaking her covered nipples. In another part was a casino theme of tables and machines. And to the sides were seats, tables and booths.

Lloyd got you both to sit down and he ordered a drink. He sipped his whiskey and glanced at the stairs that spiralled up to more private rooms.

“There he is, balcony, beside the blonde.”

You tried to not be obvious when you looked over your shoulder. August was smirking with a drink in his hand, shaking hands with an old bald gentleman with beady eyes and a brief case.

As that older fellow walked away Lloyd murmured, “And that’s our cue.”

He moved out of his seat and left the whiskey behind.

You waited a few minutes. You stared at the reflection of August in the whiskey glass and bit your lip. That man was a monster. He had raped you, humiliated you and made you scared…except now you had teeth and claws to flex.

You shut your eyes and prayed to get out alive. Picking up the glass you tossed your head back and finished what Lloyd had left. Your lipstick smudged the beautiful glasswork.

You abandoned the booth and deposited the glass.

You turned back and started to glide up those stairs in your small heeled feet. You felt immaculate, confident. And you were sure…he had seen you as you ran your hand up the banister.

You slowly moved around him. He hadn’t turned to look at you yet. A blonde woman was on his other side, whispering in his ear with her seductive rose lips. She was gorgeous, legs long and slender waist. Her dress was a deep burgundy red and her gloves black. She made you look like the frumpiest woman in the club.

You leant against the railing beside them at a respectful distance. You looked over the dance floor. You recognised local representative politicians mingling, kissing, all salacious actions that the average public would be shocked to witness. A Greenie with her tongue down a Nationalists throat.

From your side you could feel his eyes. You couldn't tell if August was glaring daggers, but you knew he had seen you.

Your fingers squeezed the railing tight.

You took a deep breath in and focused not to stutter, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You managed to angle your face his way. You prayed he wouldn't look at your hands, trembling on top of the metal bar.

He looked down at his glass cup. He turned away from his golden haired friend and smirked at you. The woman attached to his side flashed you a sickly fake smile. Her eyes were full of scornful judgement.

He chuckled lightly, eyes raking up and down your body in a way to made you feel like meat in the deli section.

“Well, I do own the club Miss Y/L/N or did you not read my name on the invitation?”

You curled your toes and strained a brave smile, “Oh of course, but business is always busy with men like you…”

You looked away from him briefly, trying to compose yourself. Your hands were starting to shake while your knees felt light. You swallowed hard and returned to face his predator eyes.

“Men like me?” He purred and turned his body to lean on the railing.

You nodded slowly, trying to find a way to answer him and continue the conversation.

“Men like you,” was all you could repeat back firmly. You could feel a line of sweat crawl down the back of your neck.

He chuckled and held his empty cup to his feminine companion.

“Natalie, be a dear and fetch me some Guinness and whatever you’d like.”

Natalie winked at him and gave a girlish laugh when he smacked her backside. You wanted to scoff but at the same time you pitied her. You were scared she would be his next sexual victim. She toddled down the stairs and August slid himself closer to you on the railing. His fingers fluttered and circled around your neck. It was too public a place for him to squeeze any tighter. He couldn’t kill you out here, it was too public. His fingers softly moved over the spot where your pulse sat.

“Why are you here?” He raised his brow to you as he purred, “How did you even get in, huh? I know you didn’t get the invitation…so…have you come to take some more photos? We could have a quick interview in my office if you’d like.”

His lips were amused, but his eyes were dark and annoyed. Annoyed with you.

You shuddered, you weren’t too interested in his offering, but you had to consider how much time Lloyd needed to gain incriminating information. Lloyd didn’t know you had your phone down the front of your dress. It was risky but you wanted to catch anything if the occasion arose.

Your glanced at him, your bottom lip trembled slightly, you nuzzled his hand that started to cup your cheek.

Lightly shaking your head you said calmly, “I got your photos…the envelope…so no photos tonight…”

He chuckled and leered down your chest before leaning in closer to your face moaning, “So…what have you come for?”

You were frustrated that Lloyd really thought you’d be able to do this….this improvisation was nearly impossible when you had to face a man with a mean face. It was the tension of your chest snapping, the breath you were holding broke in a breathy sigh which was close to a gasp.

“The party,” you lied, you leant closer and let your noses touch, “Just to party.”

You laid your hand on his chest and rubbed it in large low circles. The whiskey was warm in your cheeks. You felt daring. Your heart beating strong in your ears. Do it now or you might as well drown. You squeezed your eyes shut and tightened your insides as you pushed up and kissed his mouth. His moustache scratched your top lip as you forced yourself onto him. It was a hard lip pressing peck, you felt his hot breath fan your face. The smell of his malted breath mad a hot light sing in between your legs. Your heart was thundering in your chest,

His wide cold eyes bore into your soul and he chuckled, “You make such a fucking terrible liar.”

It was like he had punched you in the gut the way the air had left your body.

“August dear, I have your drink!” the ringing of Natalie’s voice had his head turned away and letting you go. You couldn’t think, you just stood there absolutely frozen.

August collected his new refreshment, taking an impressive gulp, and you watched him lean closer to the blonde, “The accounts are settled, you can piss off now Nat.”

Her false smile faltered into a malicious smirk. She winked at you before she fled back down the stairs and greeted another gentleman in a tuxedo. You felt sick.

August leant back and cupped your waist in his awfully huge hand, “Let’s take a walk.”

He smirked feeling the shiver roll down your back. His hand squeezed your fingers as he led you down the staircase. You frantically looked out to the room and dance floor. You hoped you might see Lloyd, you might call out for him to save you.

“Ever played Roulette?” he asked setting his empty Guinness on a passing waitress tray.

You shook your head and heard him chuckle, “Of course you haven’t, good girl like you hasn’t done many things at all.”

You were slightly offended by his wording no matter how much it might’ve been true deep down.

He put his hand back to your lower back and led you to the casino rooms. There were multiple tables with different games involving cards and chips. But there was a long table surrounded by at least twenty or thirty well dressed men with their arm candy super model women. At the end was a dealer with a long metal pole. He wore a golden coloured suit. He looked serious and when his eyes caught the sight of August that cold aura disappeared. A giant smile graced his cranky appearance.

“Want to join the game sir?” he asked, “We just finished a game.”

August smiled and said, “Yes, give me ten black chips, six purple and…” he sucked his teeth, “Six yellow.”

The dealer smiled and nodded, he handed his boss, your rapist, the eftpos machine before pushing some chips towards the edge of the table you both next to.

Your eyes widened. The black chips had the number of one hundred, the purple was five hundred and the pretty yellow chips were decorate with a one and three zeros. You had a wild guess that those digits were the amount of money he was putting on the table.

To August it was nothing.

The dealer was selling other chips to the players that were from the old game wanting to buy more while August groped your hip and pressed his nose to your ear, “Lets start off easy, pick, red or black.”

You looked at the table, there were numbers between zero and thirty six. Half the numbers were covered in red, the other half in black. Your mouth felt dry. You really didn’t know what you were doing.

“Bl-“ you cleared your throat as his hand cupped your backside under the table, “Black.”

He smiled, “Now pick, do you prefer even numbers or odd?”

You looked over the red squares and noticed how half looked odd and the other half was even, you weren’t sure if this would help or set you back.

“Odd numbers,” you whispered.

His breath was hot and his eyes were trapping you where you stood. You felt embarrassed to meet his looks.

“Dealer, One hundred on Black and one hundred on Odds.”

The dealer smirked, you knew that dealer knew this wasn’t really Augusts choice.

He spun the wheel that had a metal ball tapping along inside. Round and round the crimson and black. The ball landed onto black thirty five. You held your breath.

“And now,” August purred, “You’ve just won an extra two hundred dollars pup.”

The light in your chest bloomed with excitement, the butterflies rained like a storm in your belly. You were amazed at how it was to win so quickly…but then what if it was red even that won? Or just black and even? Would you have lost it all? Half? You were tickled with curiosity to learnt this grown up game. Two new black chips along with the original were pushed back to you. August thick fingers stacked them on top of each other in a bundle.

“Lets play again, now…see those top numbers, one to twelve, thirteen to twenty four, twenty five to thirty six?” he said, gesturing to the top of the red and black chart against the green fuzzy felt of the table.

“Pick one of those three groups.”

You sucked in a breath and tried to strategize….you had more numbers in the two boxes. You didn’t want to risk less numbers more chance of losing…

“One to twelve?” you said, his large hand rubbed on your ass pressing you closer to the table edge.

“Dealer, a purple chip on the one twelve,” he said cooly not even looking at the dealer this time as he said it. You wanted to know what he was thinking as he stared right down into your skull.

“Yes sir,” said the dealer pushing the five hundred chip over the dozen number group,

“Spin hockey,” August barked and clapped his hands.

And the bowl with a ball spun. it settled on number five. The table players groaned as their games were losing. Luck of the gods must’ve been over you tonight…

“And now you’ve won an extra thousand dollars,” he hummed.

The damn game made no sense except you were happy to be winning. You didn’t expect the fear you got from being in Augusts palm mixed with the joy of winning at gambling would make you aroused and wanting.

The yellow chip was pushed to you and you daringly picked it up. It was pretty, the emboss was August Lion symbol.

“Now…see those three columns that say two to one? There’s a right, middle and left. Pick one,” he plucked the chip from your curious fingers.

“Right,” you bravely exclaim. August laughed and turned to the dealer who had gotten back to your turn, “You heard the lady, yellow on right column.”

The chip was planted and the wheel spun once more…landing on black eleven…a middle column. And just like that, a thousand dollars gone…All the warmth left your body. Now you understood a gambling drop felt worse than the gambling high. His hand snuck it’s way across your lower belly. He moved you closer into his side. His hot breath fanned over you neck.

He tutted at you, “See the risk? Got all the blood rushing, didn’t it and now you’re feeling that punch of loss?”

You slowly shook your head, agreeing. Thank fuck it wasn’t your money or the money Lloyds' had given you. So far you’d at least made August a two hundred dollars profit from the original ten thousand he bought out.

August held your hips and pressed you back into his crotch. He wasn’t hard but you could feel his warm body heat and the shape of his soft cock in his pants.

His mouth purred along the shell of your ear, “Now, Puppy, choose one number.”

He was standing behind you, trapping you against the table flushed. None of the other players took notice and if they did they didn’t care. Because maybe they didn’t know what type of monster this monster could be.

“N-nineteen,” you stuttered, choosing your age might be a safer option.

“Tell the dealer,” he whispered.

You swallowed. You felt hot and a foul arousal between your thighs. You thought about the time you played Pool with August. Your first kiss...

“Nineteen please sir,” you said to the gold suited man.

“Chip type?”

August whispered like he was telling you the dirtiest secret, “Tell him you’re all in.”

You repeat the term and made it sound like a question. You had a feeling you knew what it meant after watch movies ‘Bounty Hunter’ with Jennifer ashton and Gerald Butler. The dealer glanced at August and smirked, “All in number nineteen.”

The long metal pole came out and scooped up all your chips to the nineteen box.

When the ball began to spin inside the wheel your belly twisted and your hands desperately squeezed Augusts. You remembered there was at least ten thousand two hundred dollars on the number and you were truly risking losing all his money. You damn well knew that Lloyd didn’t give you that much and there’s be no way to pay August back.

Your eyes ran round and round the wheel, you held your breath as the metal ball landed and bounced between the numbers. You felt weak in the knees. The wheel slowed and you nearly vomited from anticipation alone managing to force your arse harshly back into August you sound and desperately buried your face into his expensive cologne soaked shirt. You worried and bit your lip hard as the clattering silver ball stopped and the wheel paused.

You could imagine the dealers face peering down into the black and red bowl of fortunes and curses, debts and dreams.

“Congratulations little lady in front row, number Nineteen, you have won three million five hundred and seven thousand dollars,” said the dealer over an excited cheering crowd.

You swore you misheard, your knees wobbled as you dared to look up at Augusts grinning face. You looked over your shoulder and true to the dealers word, that silver ball sat in the groove of red painted with the number nineteen. All the air was drained from your lips. You could’ve fainted. You couldn’t believe it. Out of all the bad luck in your life, this felt truly unbelievable. You wished your father was here to see this. You started to smile...and then the squealing crawled out of your throat. You jumped up and down on your feet, your fingers squeezed Augusts arm tightly. The buzz inside you was wild. Your adrenaline was jumping out of adrenaline was jumping out of our throat. You knew the money wasn’t yours. It was Augusts but knowing that you’d managed to win that much by chance sent the greatest wave of euphoria.

“I won! I won! I won!” tears prickles your eyes and you cupped your mouth.

August smiled into your cheek and chuckled softly, “Yes, you did.” His moustache scratched against your cheek, he smelt like Guinness and felt like total warmth on a cold night. His thumb rubbed beneath your arm near the space of your ribs and breast.

The dealer couldn’t give you that many chips but digitally sent a code with the prize to August as owner of the card that bought the chips in the first place.

August laughed and spun you around on your feet, he tugged you away from the roulette table towards the dance floor where a slow dance was taking place to the sombrous tones of Frank Sinatra.

“Oh my god, I did that, I can’t believe I just did that,” you muttered happily in a daze, a high. You suddenly forgot entirely everything that August had done to you in the past few weeks. You forgot your entire purpose of why you were even there. His charming face was beaming in pride.

His warm lips pecked your forehead and cheek, he repeated, “Yes, you did.”

“I mean I know it’s your money but just the thrill of just- my god,” you sucked in a new breath of air and sighed, “Thankyou for letting me experience that.”

He hummed and swayed your bodies together slowly. He could’ve picked you up and carried you away and you weren’t sure if you would’ve protested.

“My money?” he chuckled, “I can right you a cheque if you’d really like. Bank it tomorrow.”

You scoffed in disbelief, you shook your head at him, “Don’t be mean August, like you’d just give me three million dollars, be fucking for real.”

He pinched your bottom making you hiss lightly as you danced in his arms and he scolded teasingly, “Language.”

You threw your head back and giggled. You were still riding the drunk high of life.

“Welcome to bloody Australia Mister Walker,” you tapped a finger on his chest, his suit felt so smooth and expensive like silk instead of basic cotton, “Where we say all kinds of things casually; Ass, cunt, fuck, bitch, bastard and so on.”

He bent you backwards and cradled your spine as his lips pressed up into your jaw and neck, “Oh fret not, I’ll discipline it out of you. I’d rather have you speaking like a true lady who cares about her appearance.”

You scoffed again and rolled your eyes. You didn’t give a flying care in the world what he thought about a true lady. He wasn’t a true gentleman. You pushed a little away from him.

The high of life became dangerous impulsive boldness, “Why? So I can teach you that true gentleman don’t drug and rape women?”

A few heads turned at your words out of the thousands dancing and gambling around you. His jolly gaze turned black and ice. His frown was deep and displeasure greatly obvious. He looked ready to kill you...

The shudder in your chest returned. It was like a bucket of icy water dunking over your head. That glare made you sober and sheepish. You pushed away gently and smoothed your dress out.

“I...I need to pee.”

You didn’t actually, yet the fear consumed you enough, blanketing over you and you needed an escape from the danger you had willingly nosed dived into. It was the only explanation for you to flee briefly and compose yourself for more of his aggression.

His hands were tight on your wrists.

“August, I’m sorry...please let me go to the loo.”

He let you go, and muttered, “It’s upstairs, be quick, we need to talk.”

You hissed when the blood pumped back into your flesh, you felt your wrists throb in rings. Stepping backwards shakily you almost fell back into a passing waiter. It felt impossible to remove your eyes from him, to make sure he wasn’t following you.

You could feel him watching you as you kept walking to those stairs. Up the grand stairs you scurried away from him for the seconds he was distracted looking away from you, grabbing a new drink.

Just find the ladies toilet and he can’t come in right?

Your head was pounding. Breathless and flushed you didn’t look at the signs on doors. You didn’t even need the bathroom, honestly, you just needed to sit down.

Relief filled you as you looked behind. You couldn’t see August and knew he still wasn’t following you. You leant against a door and turned the handle hoping out of all these doors, this would be a toilet.

When you fell inside. You noted the room was empty…but there was also no toilet…instead there was a couch to your left and to your right a massive wall with a control panel and TVs lining the wall…on the televisions were colourful pictures moving, replaying the events of the party…they were the viewpoints of cameras…security.

You were in the security room!

With widened eyes you closed the door behind you entirely and awed at the stuff you were watching…

There wasn’t just one party going on tonight.

The screen showed the rest of the club you hadn’t had the pleasure of observing. The back stages dancers change room, the full game slot casino, a smokers room where a stripper was sucking some random man off. Your stomach twisted.

There were men sniffing coke off a woman’s thigh. Other people in another room were injecting each other with heroin.

There was a room auctioning paintings and appeared to be a business meeting. Multiple men were sitting on couches and bar stools watching while a stunning woman in the middle waving at expensive items…. Katarina Vikander. She wore a stunning green gown that hugged her body, around her neck was a thick row of diamonds, she looked like an old Hollywood actress.

You stepped closer to the screen and traced the figures of people and faces you recognised. There were even famous local politicians. Your mouth felt dry. You knew it was a simple auction but the items were familiar, they were museum pieces. There were items that morally speaking belonged to the indigenous Meanjin people. It was a inexplicable scandal.

Then there was Lloyd! He was sitting beside an older man with the bald head and beady eyes. In that man’s lap was a young woman with dark flowing hair in a very short dress, definitely young enough to be his granddaughter. yuck!

It was a room of gentlemen and their own weapons to show off. Guns and blades you were confident weren’t even allowed to be sold in Australia after the Port Arthur Massacre. There were tommy guns and automatic rifles. There were trench knives and a urban skinner daggers. Things you’d only seen in movies.

You pulled out your phone and started taking photos of the screens. They would be bad quality photos, not well enough to publish to the press but it didn’t matter, evidence was still important. August was willingly allowing this in his club and on the unlikely chance he wasn’t, it was still occurring in his club, he’d be responsible.

You thought about the amount of people these guns and knives could or had already killed. You clicked some more and quickly sat in the empty chair. There was a couch behind you, you noted the strange red splatter stains over the cushions. You took another picture. You didn’t want to consider if it was blood because that lead to the question of whose blood it was...you shuddered.

No wonder he didn’t appear as excited as you when you won the three million dollars…he probably made that in a week from profits out of these illegal auctions.

You held your breath and watched the screens further.

Soon Lloyd would bust the club. He’d call back up and the floor would go wild. Now it was a matter of waiting. Any minute now, you bet.

You took photos of the men doing drugs with the strippers and the gambling and finally the bar. You wondered how much of the alcohol would’ve been watered down to save money. It even clicked to wonder if the club even had a license to sell alcohol while the casino was open.

You were checking the photos and perched yourself on the couch when the door opened. You gasped and dropped your phone on the ground with a loud clatter.

The looming shadow entered the dark room. It was him…August…he stood inside and closed the door, away from the party, silencing the booming hustle and bustle.

“No photos tonight?” his brows lifted and a smile spread while he tutted, “Oh my sweet girl, you’re breaking daddy’s heart.”

You leant down and grabbed the phone again and shoved it into your clutch purse.

“I-I wasn’t using my c-camera…” you poorly lied.

You stood up spritely and tried to find away around him. He leant against the door, blocking your escaped. His eyes rolled from the screens back to you.

He flashed a sinister fanged smile and shook his head, “Oh no, no, I think it’s about time we chat little Miss Y/N…don’t you?”

You pouted and snarled, “Get out of my way August.”

He shook his head again and sucked his teeth, “Tell me why you really came tonight, and I will.”

You gulped. You clenched your first and said louder, “Get out of my way August or I’ll fucking scream and I’ll make a damn scene.”

He stood in silence for three solid seconds before nodding.

He moved away from the door but as you tried to pass him reaching for the doorhandle, he grabbed your waist and hauled you back. You were launched back across the floor and landed hard and sharp on the carpet. The air was knocked from your lungs and your hands lost grip of your clutch.

Gaining your bearings quickly, you shrieked and cowered. You raised your hands and shuddered. You were so sure he was going to punch and kick you, instead a soft strong hand curled over your wrist and tugged you to your knees.

“Come here,” he softly murmured, while he gently made you crawl over to the couch. On the cushions he sat before he pulled you into his thick lap. Your legs were trapped between his, while you were held on his lap.

You felt so small, so weak. His hands were warm, and strong, you were growing sore as your body overcame the shock of him throwing you back into the room. It made you feel terrified at how simply he was able to manhandle you. All those weeks without his presence had somehow made you forget how deadly and scary he could be. And despite being in his club, in a public place, he still had the upperhand and power to take what he wanted.

Your body shook as his hands touched you. He was so calm…it was unsettling and struck icily in your blood. This was the August you met that afternoon two weeks ago. This is the August that duct taped you and forced you to cum in your fathers recliner chair.

“You wearing any wires baby?” He cooed as his hand stuck down your dress top and another slipped up your thighs. You didn’t fight, but your fingers pleadingly hooked into his shirt sleeve while his hand dug around and slid around your breasts, groping your soft flesh.

His hand the groped around your thighs and lingered when cupping near your underwear. A stream of sweat trailed your face, what if he felt how wet you were in your underwear?

You shook your head and pitifully whimpered, “N-no, just the ph-phone in my bag.”

His lips pressed against your shoulder and neck before finally going to your ear, “This is what’s going to happen…” he purred, “You’re going to be my good girl and do everything I tell you, or else I’m going kill your piggy friend.”

You gasped as his fingers rubbed at your underwear covered clit.

“Wh-what?!”

“Yes poppet, I know about him,” he chuckled and sucked on your earlobe loudly, “He’s not very smart, coming here…his wire, he’s wearing…it’s not going to pick up anything.”

Your eyes dared to glance at the cameras, Lloyd was still on the screen, still watching the auction.

August moved his mouth to your other ear and moved your underwear aside, his finger easily slipped inside of you, tearing a whine from your lips at how wet you were.

“Has he fucked you yet?” He mocked, “Has the piggy touched what’s mine? Stuffed that dirty cock in this pretty puppy pussy?”

You choked on a rising sob, “No, now please st-stop.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, tears August kissed away softly. You were watching the screens, Lloyd was looking around the room from the chair he was sitting in. Someone handed him a drink. You didn’t know what he was saying as he laughed at someone. You just wanted him to call back up, before you potentially were raped again.

August paused and slipped in another thick finger, “So…you thought you’d help him? Think I’d be so blind? It breaks my heart that either of you thought I was that dumb. This whole time I’ve been telling myself you weren’t a threat, just a dumb little girl…but that’s not entirely true huh? Miss picture perfect, taking photos she fucking well shouldn’t be.”

Your whimpered and wept with salty tears that stung hard. You heard him shuffle as he propped you onto one knee. A moment later, something hard and cold touched your cheek. You were certain this was your fault. You didn’t distract him enough, instead you ran off like a cowered. You sobbed and found it difficult to breathe seeing what that hard object in the corner of your eye was. If you weren’t so scared you might’ve screamed…

“Did you wear this for me baby?” He asked, rubbing your cheek with the warm tip of the gun, “Awfully pretty, awfully expensive for someone like you.”

Your eyes fell down at the dress you’d bought earlier that day. God you regretted it all now, all the excitement you felt buying it for tonight, it was all backfiring. You bought it knowing this was something he might want, it made you feel rich and sensual. It was your shield of confidence, ironic how a shield means nothing compared to a gun pressed to your head.

“Yes,” you wailed, “Please just let us go.”

“Us?” He scoffed scornfully, “And you’re telling me, you’re not fucking him.”

His fingers curled harshly and pinched your inner walls, cupping and shaking your entire cunt in his hand roughly.

You whined and choked, “it’s- n-not his faul- fault…I’m…I’m-”

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell silent…Jesus fucking Christ. August was covered in a hot wet warmth. He grunted, slowly, he removed his two thick fingers out of your pussy and shook his hand of the wet liquid pouring out with three large wrist flicks.

Mortified, a blubbering fest left you mouth. A line of ‘’please” and “sorry” poured desperately out of you.

Your piss puddled the floor down to his shoes.

You had half expected him to throw you off or kill you in disgust. Instead, August hissed a little as the warm liquid soaked over his trousers. You flinched away. He put his gun back in his pocket.

He laughed darkly, “You are so silly huh? So goddamn innocent,” his wet head cupped your neck and clenched your jaw, “I think I’ve amused you long enough baby, I think it’s time I show you why you were put in my care.”

You fluttered your wet eyes at him, “Please just let Lloyd go,” you swallowed a gulp of air, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

You gagged at the acidic smell of your own urine on his hand burning into your nose. His tongue clicked and he wagged his other finger at you.

“You’re about to see what happens to shits who think to try and bring me and my friends down, go on sunshine, look at the TV’s.”

His hand jerked your head forward. You were forced to watch everything happening in the room where Lloyd was. Within seconds, there were two security guards dragging in a limping man over a giant square of tarp.

“This dumb piece of shit decided to double dip my profits in a club I own down in Sydney…dickhead thought to embezzle me…I don’t like when men take what’s mine…”

The struggling man had a black pillow case shoved over his head. He was pushed to his knees in front of Brandon Sullivan who held a gun he took out from the briefcase. Katarina stood away from the centre of the room and watch him with the brightest smile.

The gun from the suitcase wasn’t particularly impressive. It was a hand gun with an ivory hilt. American.

The barrel was pressed to the pillow case. Your eyes widened.

Your bottom lip fell, “Wait please no, he can’t, stop-”

It was two little light flickers from the tip of the weapon, the bag flutter backwards as the man’s brains were blown through. It wasn’t like the movies. His body just flopped and slammed down on the floor and in seconds the blue tarp was rolled up and dragged away, no time for the blood to soak into the auction room carpet.. Brandon put the gun down and clapped his hands.

Lloyd didn’t flinch…his eyes hid inside his cup.

You gagged and bent your head opening your mouth above Augusts spread knees, the floor not only covered in your urine was also granted a haul of your bile. The whiskey you finished from Lloyds cup came back up hard burning your throat.

Why wasn’t Lloyd arresting them there and then? Why didn’t he leave to call back up?

You trembled watching the detective standup and walk over to order a drink at a private bar. He was so vulnerable standing in the den. And he was wearing a wire that wasn’t even working and you couldn’t tell him. You were helpless, Lloyd was helpless.

“I could kill him right now if I wanted to…” August cooed as you sobbed with the shock of seeing a real person killed in front of your eyes on screen.

You wailed and turned your body away. Buring your face into his shoulder and begged, “Please don’t hurt him, please, dear god. I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Anything?” He sarcastically gasped.

Your whimpered, “Yes!”

He was laughing and humming while he was toying with what he’d do to you. He bounced his knee you were on forcing you to land hard on your crotch and gasping everytime your clit made contact with his thigh and knee.

When he stopped, he pinched your wet inner thigh, “Call me Daddy you piss soaked slut.”

You nodded and tried to slow your meltdown, “O-okay d-daddy, I will.”

“Are you sorry for trying to trick me, whore?” He said harshly.

Your chin shook as you choked out, “S-so sorry daddy. Please forgive me.”

He liked that with how he grunted and moaned.

“I guess I should huh? You come in here, looking for dirt, but you win me gold.”

He pushed you off his lap. You were scared and embarrassment. The feeling of the wet that ran down your legs was drying up, yet the puddle that was drying up was huge. The scent was pungent. Your legs were weak and wobbly. You stumbled and grabbed your clutch with your phone inside.

You heard him clear his throat and flinched when he stated, “We are going back to my office. I have wipes, and spare clothes.”

That would’ve sounded nice except you knew better, you knew he’d just rape you in there…and with these sketchy men in the auction room you could only imagine what else August had business in. Human trafficking on top of all these other crimes wouldn’t have entirely surprised you.

You needed to find a way to get away. Since Lloyd still hadn’t gotten the back up he promised, you knew you would need to abandon him too. Guilt filled your belly, you worried for the cop’s safety, but it came to the dilemma…would you risk this for the chance to save his life, or save yourself and pack up and run for it with the cash he had given you. The amount of money in your clutch could buy you a ticket up north all the way to Townsville. You hardly could imagine a British man like August in the sweltering heat of northern Queensland…only issue? It was a perfect place to hide a body. Sugar cane fields were burned daily up there. If you wanted to dump a body, it would be perfect and convenient…you thought about moving in the opposite direction to New South Wales. The Blue Mountains had a cult you had heard of, maybe they could hide you from him.

“Y/N,” August broke you from your thoughts, he touched your chin and matched your gaze, “Did you hear me? I’m going to clean you up, sort you out.”

You took a ragged breath in and nodded, “Y-yes da-dad-" you gulped loudly, "daddy.”

He smirked and pressed his mouth to yours, pulling back with a sigh, he murmured, “That’s a good girl.”

He placed his hand on your back and moved you forward to the entrance door.

Your fingers reached out and touched the handle. Your other hand was clenching your bag tightly. It was only a door…But the knob turned, and you were faster than him. You slammed it shut behind you when you rushed out the door. You raced and shoved people aside. You heard him rip and bang the door open. You felt his heavy feet chasing behind you.

You felt so fucked! Your heart was palpating, and your thighs were chaffing with that sour smell of your pee dress soaked. You almost slipped down the stairs but managed to get to the bottom before seeing him starting to run down from the top.

Guests were staring but who cared? The party was wild and many just giggled thinking it was a big game.

It wasn’t a game though, truly you believed now he was going to kill you and Lloyd if you didn’t get out now. You had no idea where that auction room was hidden. You could grab him and bolt. These seconds were precious, and you just needed to get out onto the street.

You got to the bar and as you ran forward, you saw the fire alarm off the side. You slammed a fist down hard and bolted for the exit. Sprinklers went off wild, the rain made the party wet and all the main lights activate blinding half of the club. The other guests became frantic hearing the chance of a fire happening. Everyone was starting to rush out of the club with you. You swore and hoped that Lloyd was going to be able to get out safely too.

There was no way you’d be able to go home tonight. You were a dead woman walking with the content of your phone and the murder you witnessed. You tried to find an uber driving past but the fear that August was behind you made you keep moving.

You kept running even as you got outside in the cold air. The sound of car horns and lights of the streets were chaotically plaguing your mind. You didn’t have a clue where you were running. You just kept going. There were roads totally dead and quiet, you ran across without pressing any walking buzzers. You needed to find safety. Your feet raced down pavement paths until they hit the soft dewy grass of the park. The parkour park was near the train lines, you could hear the rattling wheels and noisy horn of a passenger train go through, leaving it impossible to tell if someone was following you… But you heard could him, you swore you could hear his catching breath and hear those leather shoes sprinting behind you.

You squealed in the dark as your ran past an empty children’s playground. He was big and he was fast. You felt his hand in the air trying to grab you and successfully you dodged him. You rushed down a street of abandoned shops and tripped over a groove in the ground that you missed in the ground.

And that’s how this all started don’t you see? Don’t you remember?...

A rush of air sucked out from your lungs as your hands and knees collided with the gravel pavement. Your stupid kitten heel snapped and your handbag had flown a couple metres in front of you.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you poorly attempted to catch your anxious breath.

“Dumb. Very stupid. I perceived you to be smarter than this…” his voice dripped into your burning hot ears.

He was behind you, you knew that…with his hands in his suit pockets. His expensive leather shoes crunched on the rocky path the closer he neared you.

You hissed when the chilly night air whistled against your cut up palms. Blood rose up from your skin, shining in the light of the city lamp. You flinched as his two fingers traced along your spine and pressed harshly down on the back of your neck.

With watery eyes, you watched him walk pass and collect your handbag. His lithe fingers dove inside and pulled out the phone. His lips pursed as he let it fall from his hand before crushing it under his foot.

The salty tears raced down your cheeks, gliding into your trembling mouth.

If only you could’ve screamed for help. If only there was someone in the park to see what had unfolded.

A hiccup escaped you and he softly cooed, “It’s alright now, I think it’s about time you received an education, my darling.”

You shook your head and felt the rise of bile in your throat.

“Please,” you begged with a rasp voice, “I won’t tell anyone. Let me go. I swear I won’t go to the police, just let me go!”

He tutted his tongue and wagged his finger. He crouched down, his soft hand combed into your sweat soaked hair and tugged your head up. Your eyes met his icy gaze.

Hopelessness filled you. Begging had fallen on deaf ears.

“That’s right, you won’t tell anyone…but I’m not finished with you yet.”

As a gasp lifted from your lips he chuckled, “You’re precious if you think I’m letting you go after seeing that.”

His cold palm grabbed the sides of your throat and began to choke you. As the oxygen was restricted, your little hands clawed desperately at his callous hand. Your feet flailed against the gravel. Tears raced down your face. It was impossible to scream out without any air to cry with. With every passing second, a dizzy blanket was clouding your mind and filling your eyes with black spots. His glare made your knees buckle. Exhaustion from fighting was taking over, your nails left his hands, your eyes were finding it difficult to stay open. Eventually your lashes shut, and you let your mind drown in the airless space of time....

Unknown...Unknown...August 2024, Brisbane.

You thought he had killed you. You genuinely believed as the blood pulverised your skull, he had choked you to death.

You felt cold and hungry…the smell of hot Chinese food woke you up.

You curled up in a tight ball, hugging your naked body. Your couldn’t see anything. Your face had been blind folded. Your mouth was chewing on something long, some type of rubbery gag. And around your neck you felt a tight squeeze and the bite of a chain…a collar? Your fingers tried to pull them off but they were tied around your head and you felt the cold shape of padlock..

The carpet scuffed.

Someone was in the room, getting up from a chair. You heard a masculine breath and you trembled covering your chest and cupping your last as your curled back up in a ball.

You were laying on a soft blanket and mattress.

You whined as a warm human finger raced down your arm and the hand splayed out over your skin.

“Good morning, pet…I’m glad I was here to see you wake up,” you heard August moan.

You felt his fuzzy moustache tough the corner of your gaged lips.

You flinched and rubbed your face into the pillows above you.

The chain moved and taunted you backwards until you sat up so you could breathe.

His hand touched your inner thigh, you felt the bed tilt to his weight.

“I bet you’re hungry, I could hear your tummy growl for quite some time before you woke up.”

You felt his fingers unlock the gag and pull it down your chin.

You gasped and enjoyed the ability to breathe properly again. You were still stuck in total darkness however.

You heard a fork clinking with a bowl. You could hear August blow on the hot food and were told to open up.

Your lips parted and your tongue was touched by the greasy goodness of Chinese honey chicken.

You chewed and tore off the meat from his fork.

“Another,” he said as he fed you some more.

Your hands reached out to hold the fork yourself before you heard him casual say, “Keep those paws down, I haven’t given you permission to use them.”

Your might’ve been blindfolded but you knew he was looking at your body. You lifted your knees up to your chin and tapped your arms around your legs.

A cold bottle of water was pushed to your lips and your mouth greedily suckled it down. You knew it could be laces with drugs but your mouth was dry and you knew you were dehydrated.

You gaspingly asked as the bottle was pulled away, “Are you going to kill me?”

You didn’t want to die but it wasnt your choice. You knew this process would be quicker and easier if you allowed death to come…you would rather die than have to succumb to rape.

“No puppy…not today.”

You didn’t feel relief. Actually you felt your chest shake as you tried to hold back your crying.

Your heard him out the fork down and felt him come onto the bed. He pulled you into his arms and let you sob. He rubbed your back and hushed you gently.

It took everything in you to not fight him…you sagged into his touch and let him hold and rock you until you composed your tears.

You should fight him…if he’s going to kill you…go out with a fight.

“Would you like some more food?” He asked and you meekly nodded, “Yes please.”

He tutted and softly scolded, “That’s not how we ask now is it?”

You couldn’t see him but your fist flew up and caught him in his shoulder, “If you th-think I’m going to call you ‘daddy’…you’re fucking nuts!”

And you truly readied yourself for the beating of a lifetime…rather…his fingers moved up and unlocked your blindfold, pulling it off your head.

You winced as the bright light of day pelted your eyes…

He was sitting on the bed. A long button up shirt with rolled up sleeves and dress pants still wearing his leather shoes. His fingers pinched your chin.

“Still want to be a bad girl?”

You realised he expected an answer. And bravely your jerked your chin away.

“You can rape me, cut me, kill me...I’m not calling you fucking ‘daddy’!” You slapped his hand away and crawled to the other side of the bed feebly. You shrieked as he slapped your naked ass hard and laughed.

“That’s alright… I’ll talk to you again in a few more hours.”

He pushed you down and slapped your hands. He put the blind fold and the gag back on. He took the cup and Chinese food away….he left you…vulnerable and nude on the bed. Alone with your thoughts for the next few hours.

Unknown...Unknown...August 2024, Brisbane

He left you blind folded for hours right? Or was it just thirty minutes? You couldn’t tell…blind folded and gagged. You could move your arms and blindly crawl around the bed but the chain would grow taunt if you tried to climb off the mattress. You considered hanging yourself…would it have been easier to just let him find your corpse then wait to be raped?

You rolled around and felt around the covers. You were helpless and scared. For all you knew he could’ve been watching you quietly.

Your crying was muffled with the gag between your teeth. Drool dropped down your chin and dribbled to your chest. You kept wiping it up feeling revolted with yourself.

You tugged and pulled the chain, yet no freedom was granted in your attempts. You grew tired, the panic in your chest exhausted you.

Hesitantly you pulled the duvet back and wiggled yourself in between the massive pillows, you fell asleep…and it was daunting.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t tell when you drifted off to sleep and the first thing you saw was dad. He was coming home from work and you were in the lounge room flicking through the tv channels. When you saw him come through the door your were scared it was August, but seeing your dad made your heart burst with joy. Relief and peace clouded your mind.

“it was all a bad dream!” You said as you got off the couch and raced to hug your father. He was never much of a hugger, that was okay…

His hand pat your back and you sobbed, “It was so awful dad! I thought you had died, everyone said you were dead but I knew there was no way. Thank god it was just a bad drea-”

He was skinny …you hugged him tight …why did he feel so hard and sharp around his body?

“Dad, I missed you,” you licked your lips, “come on I’ll make you something to eat, why are you so thin?” You moved your head back and screamed. His work shirt was stained in blood and his skin and muscle were rotting off his body. His cheeks were hallow and the tip of his nose was gone. His eyes totally white. A slice settle on his face. He opened his mouth slowly to speak and a rotting tongue rolled out over his chin.

You kept screaming and saying “No!” Over and over again. You moved backwards and fell over on a bowl of porridge. His body fell forward on top of yours.

You couldn’t breathe from the fear. The dream went dark in shadows and it clicked that perhaps you’d woken up. But you weren’t entirely sure. You kicked your legs and curled up in a ball. You wailed and hiccupped. The gag in your mouth brought your mind back to where you were. Where you’d been trapped. You hit the mattress over and over in frustration and anger.

“Lmph ma gaoh!” let me go, you howled.

Your knees trembled and you felt nauseas. You shook your head, trying to fight the vomit that could be rising to your chest. You knew if you vomited it would go everywhere and some might stay inside your mouth or throat or up into your nose.

You whimpered, “Peaff!” Please!

Your body tightened…you felt your bowels grow sore and your bladder tight.

Dread filled your mind with the harsh reality that if you don’t get off the bed you were going to be sitting in your own fluids. It cracked your mind….it broke your own heart…you started to scream knowing what your kidnapper wanted to hear..

“Daffy! Peaf half mah!” Daddy please help me, you bawled over and over while your legs crossed tightly and you tried to hold in your bowels. Your toes curled and your acrylic nails dug deep into the skin of your palm. You scolded yourself for letting at service woman Drew to convince getting your nails done.

It was agony, holding in for so long. Your hands cupped yourself in hopes to stop any form of self leaking.

But after the fifth or sixth begging sob…you felt his presence return. It was like he never left, you didn’t hear his feet walk over to you, you only felt his hands…he unlocked you from the chain and guided you to the guest toilet. He took off your gag and your mouth slackened. The drool that hit your feet and floor with a splat made your shoulders curl in humiliating embarrassment.

You were sat on the toilet seat. You knew he stood waiting. It made you feel worthless and disrespected, the lack of privacy as he watched you push your bladder and bowels.

And that wasnt even the worst of it.

Reaching for toilet paper to the side of you, your hands were slapped away. You heard the roll move and a quick tear. You held out your hand to take it but his hand touched your thick and you twisted away, choking on a sob….the sick fucker wouldn’t let you wipe your own body... As he wiped the piss, you grabbed his wrist and tried to tug him away from your intimates.

“I’m not a baby,” you croaked quietly. You heard him hum, “I can do it myself”

“I know you’re not a baby…I just want to remind you this body belongs to me,” he murmured as he flushed the toilet paper away and you heard his hands wash under the running water of the sink.

Your knees bounced with anxious impatience. What was he planning to do to you?

He got you to your feet and guided you back. When the tiles became carpet you guessed you were being put back onto the bed.

He locked the chain back to the collar and whispered into your temple, “Just a moment.” You felt him move away and heard him drag something heavy from under the bed. Your stomach dropped and thought the worst.

He’s grabbing power tools…he’s going to chop and stab and beat me up and then dice me up into tiny pieces, you but your lips and let your tears flow.

“Wh-what’ are you going to do to m-me?” You dared to ask the maniac millionaire.

You flinched at his echoing chuckle, “Just tie you up for now, but let’s see where that takes us? You were talking in your sleep, did you know you do that?”

Your shoulders shook and you curled. You moved back to the head of the bad and clenched the fabric tightly. You felt him dropping things on the bed. His torture tools….

“Please don’t do this,” you tried to beg, “I haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to go h-home please.”

You hated the weakness in your voice. A part of you was angry and demanding you to claw his eyes out and fight to the death. You just weren’t sure what was the right thing to do anymore. What was the least painful.

Warm fingers brushed along your shoulder, and you gasped a little too loudly, he laughed.

“Easy now, I’m just taking off the blindfold, or would you prefer I leave it on?”

Your eyes watered under the fabric, your voice broke out into a whimper, "Off please..."

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#TNOSP #august walker x black!reader #august walker x ofc #august walker x you #august walker x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark!august walker #dark!henry cavill #milky fics #Spotify

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st4rb3rr13s · 8 months

Text

1+1=2 chp 3

You get ready to go on a date with Eren

🤭🤭 hope y’all love this chapter💕💕!! (It’s too early to be writing please🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️)

You couldn’t believe it. Eren has asked you out, something no one expected. It was a weird feeling, normally in college frat boys only like to fuck. Even your friend who was gorgeous couldn’t even cuff Armin. You didn’t know why Eren liked you or wanted you, but it didn’t matter now. He asked you out and you were going on this date.

You looked through your closet, looking at the different dresses you could wear. Normally you wouldn’t go for a tight dress but Eren has seen everything he needed to see before. Nothing was hidden, as you searched for the perfect dress.

Your eyes fell on a dress you knew he’d love. It was a black dress that showed all of your curves perfectly. It was a dress one of your friends bought you for your birthday, she said In case you needed to look sexy somewhere. You guess she was right.

Your hands pulled up the dress, before slithering your arms into the straps. You looked at yourself, seeing she was right about this dress. It fits perfectly. You didn’t believe her because how could a dress fit perfectly? But she was right. The dress was also comfortable, giving a soft feel to it. You’d have to start wearing the dress more often.

Your hands made use of themselves, coating makeup on your face. You were nervous for this date, and you didn’t know why. You felt a pit in your stomach, applying it. You wondered where he was taking you. Was he taking you to a restaurant or was he taking you to an arcade. Eren had told you he loved arcades.

Once you were finished, you made sure to put on your glasses, before walking out your bedroom door. You walked out to see your brother cooking. He doesn’t like cooking, he's told you, but you loved his cooking. He always knew exactly how to make everything to your liking.

“Where are you going?” Levi asked.

“On a date, could you put your food in a container so I can eat it later.” You questioned.

“Sure. With who?” Levi asked back.

“With Eren, the boy in the same class as me.” You answered. Levi hummed. He normally never hummed, always taking a deep breath or rolling his eyes. “What was that for?”

“Nothing.” Levi muttered. You hummed, in question. He didn’t look at you, just kept cutting vegetables.

“I’ll see you later, ok?” You smiled.

“Ok.” Levi whispered.

You walked out of the kitchen to the front door. Your eyes scanned for some shoes before putting high heels on. Normally you wouldn’t wear high heels, but you thought a date called for it. Your feet slipped into the heels, making you stand a little taller. You texted Eren, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.

You left the apartment, walking to your car. Levi had bought you this car after your 16th birthday. It wasn’t a fairly new car but it was fairly old. It was perfect for you. You sat in the driver’s seat, pulling off.

Your stomach started to feel like it was squeezing itself. You didn’t know why you felt this way, jitters maybe? You were normally never nervous because what do you have to lose? It’s never that serious. You calmed down your breath, looking to the side of the road.

Your head was telling you to turn around. Go back home and do something productive. Don’t waste your time, but you knew better than to do that. That’s cruel if you stood him up. He would never stand you up, you think.

Multiple men have used you for many things. Maybe it was for money, looks, or status. No matter what they wanted they used you. It made you upset sure, but what could you possibly do? It wasn’t in your control. If they did that, they were bad people. You had to learn how to detect what someone wants from you and why.

The car pulled up to the frat house. You felt all of your nerves start. Your heart started to pump faster, you stomach started to churn more, your head had started to have a headache, your fingers had a buzzing feeling. Maybe this was wrong. Why did you feel so uncomfortable? Was there something your body was trying to tell you? If you would have taken a guess, it would be to turn back now. Or maybe, you were excited. Excitement was always a new feeling for you, you barley did anything exciting.

You got out of the car, walking up to the house. You heard this house held so many parties. Multiple people, friends of friends have been. Even people who graduated sometimes came to these parties, why, you don’t know honestly. You’ve been to parties but never their parties. Every time they had a party you had a big test coming up, so you’ve never went.

You knocked on the door, waiting for someone. You couldn’t turn back now, not after your hands touched the door. Not after your finger pressed the doorbell, letting someone know you’re here. While you wait, you check your phone to see if he got the message. Delivered. The door opened, revealing a blonde man.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Armin asked. You heard creaking from upstairs.

“Eren asked to go on a date with me.” You answered. Armin’s eyes widened, but his head quickly nodded.

“Come in, his bedroom door is upstairs the last one.” Armin smiled.

“Thank You.” You smiled back as you went inside the house.

The pounding didn’t stop, it only got worse once you made it up the stairs. As you walked to the bedroom, the noise got even louder and louder. That’s until you heard a woman’s voice, chanting his name like it was a prayer. Your stomach started to sink, realizing quickly.

But you had to know, he wouldn’t fuck a woman before going on a date with you. He wasn’t like that. He said he wanted to marry you. Why would he disrespect you on so many levels like that? He knew better. He’s different from the guy’s you were with. He wouldn’t use you, he’s not like that. You opened the door, seeing a woman’s legs wrapped around the boy you were supposed to be going out with.

His head turned to look at you. His eyes widened as your heart sank. At that moment you realized he was just like your exs. He was someone who used women for one thing and one thing only. Something you should’ve seen from the beginning.

You walked the other way, hearing him call your name. You heard the way he apologized to you and try to go on the date. You heard the excuses he made for himself. You saw the way his hands tried to hold you. You saw as his friend looked the other way, not making eye contact with either of you.

Eren watched as you looked at him with purely nothing. It was worse than hatred, it was empty. As he spit out anything he could, he saw how your smile was gone. The way your cute hairstyles was starting to look sad. Your glasses start to droop down to your nose.

He watched as when he tried to say something you snapped. Your loud voice booming echos in the house. A voice he’s never heard from you before, no one has ignited. He heard you say Leave me alone. His heart sunk as you walked away from him, never wanting to speak to him again.

Tags: @s3lfinvolvedh3athen @blushblossomsblog

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren aot #aot x black reader #aot eren #aot x reader #snk x black reader #eren x black reader #aot x black y/n #eren angst #aot angst #snk angst #levi brother #snk eren #eren snk #st4rb3rr13s #st4rb3rr13s approved

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theroseiswithoutawherefor · 4 months

Text

Well, first of all, I have to thank @yridenergyridenergy for selling me the ticket! It was literally the best experience I had throughout the year; I really, really, sincerely appreciate it.

As promised, this is my repo of the gig in Wakayama. To be honest, I’m really a bad recorder as I can only recall the sensation or vibe in general and forget the details every time. Am I the only one?? Anyway, I guess my drawings may not be precise at all and it would be more like a summary of the year.

And this repo will be focusing on Kaoru, Toshiya and Kyo. I’m sorry but I stood on the left in both times.

Kaoru

It’s so strange that I can easily feel my love for him grows with time and what a coincidence! I visited them twice this year and I was right in front of him every time. I always assumed that I would be in front of Toshiya when I checked the hall map in December, but no! It was Kaoru again! It kinda shocked me the time I located my seat and noticed his microphone stand was there, just about 2 meters away.

I think probably it has been known by all of you, the show started with a semi-transparent screen showing some AI-generated footage(sorry, I hate this part). It covered most of the setting but just revealed some shadows. I could only see Kaoru, his side profile, priest-alike gown and silver hair. He looked so focused and indifferent and so good-looking…my hands are still sweating as I recall it now.

That was my first time listening to Rinkaku on-site. I got caught up in emotion when you could easily compare themselves in reality and their sketches in the video. You could see how much they have changed and it also just reminded me a lot of moments, staying at home and staring them on the screen. The real vs the virtual.

Also, at the beginning from the distance, I could only see some sort of marks on his chin that looked pretty much like piercings? It turned out to be his makeup; so brilliant.

Kyo

I didn’t see Kyo that much this time, but I feel he is that kind of vocal that you would fall in love with once you’ve actually seen him in the venue. He looked so nostalgic to me this time, maybe bc of the ghost face makeup or the fact that I have seen him too much this year. I also went to HK for sukekiyo this year.

The gig of sukekiyo was more emotional, floating and spacey (and less aggressive, obviously). Kyo’s dedication was so contagious. Although he looked a little bit nervous at the beginning of the Day1, forgetting the lyrics now and then lol.

It is interesting to see the similarities and differences between Diru and Sukekiyo, like looking at different reflections of the same mirror.

Btw probably he is the most inspiring Diru member to me I guess. Idk why drawing kyo always begins with a pretty satisfying draft then it becomes a big challenge to my expertise and patience ahhhh. But yeah, I can improve a lot after finishing it. So, kyo, thx? lol

Toshiya

I’m not quite a fan of his white outfit that day(the one worn in the pic of their tweet on 16th Dec). Actually I even failed to recognize him the first, waistcoat and palazzo trouser are ok but definitely not the most stunning look of him. It seems that his style is becoming more gender-neutral this year, with hair dyed brown, pearl jewelries and feminine makeup.

But I still quite enjoyed his performance, his body language was so beautiful (ugh! It’s such a shame that I can’t recreate it)and he was the first one going to the left terrace and saying hi to everyone. Toshiya is always the sweetest person in Diru to me.

I prefer his encore look more and he took off the shirt and threw it to the gift right in front of him

（and a random sketch）

That’s it! I could have drawn more but, sorry I’m a perfectionist, these pics really took me some time, but I may keep going if I have spare time.

And I’m not used to talking so much on the Internet, it is embarrassing somehow.

The year of 2023 has treated me rly good, I hope it would be the same for all of you and Diru members, see you next year.

#dir en grey #sukekiyo #kaoru #kyo #toshiya #A repo? maybe?

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hockeyandhrsepwr · 1 year

Text

Always You

Quinn Hughes x reader

** I had a bunch of ideas for this but didnt want it to be too long. Enjoy:) **

-> gif from Pinterest

You and Quinn had been close friends since childhood, with his family moving a street over from yours in Toronto. Being in the grade between Jack & Quinn, you ended up around them lots, walking to school together & playing outside whenever the boys weren’t playing hockey.

Hell, Jack was your first kiss during a party when you were 13, egged up by your mutual friends and a game of truth or dare. But it was always Quinn.

From as early as you can remember, you’d crushed on the older boy. There was something about him that had always drawn you to him. Brushing it off as nothing more than a childhood crush, you didn’t do anything, until it was too late. One day you’re chilling in their basement, trying to figure out how to tell one of your best friends that you really like him, next thing you know, Quinn’s telling you he’s going to Michigan for the National Development program for the next two years.

It was tough seeing him go, and you cried hard when you said goodbye, but keeping in touch wasn’t a problem. You still had Jack and Luke who were basically your brothers by that point, & Quinn came back to Toronto when he had breaks, the few that there were. After your 16th birthday rolled around the March after he left, and you got your licence, you took your shitty, beat up old car (and Jack) and made the trip down to surprise Quinn one weekend.

Two years flew by, & despite his hectic schedule and all his new friends and experiences, your friendship stayed strong and you talked almost every day. You even went to his prom with him, where some prodding from Brady led him to tell you that he was in love with you. A long conversation later, he finally kissed you and asked if you would be his girlfriend.

The two of you knew it would be hard, with him heading to Michigan in the fall and then on to the NHL while you still had another year of high school and then University. But you were determined to make it work. and honestly, nothing much changed. You already talked everyday & hung out when he was back in Toronto, dating just meant that the two of you snuck off more to spend time without Jack or Luke, and you made a trip out to the lake house that summer.

That summer brought another bittersweet goodbye, as the Hughes family made the move down to Michigan when Jack started in the program. On one hand, you were losing your second family, on the other now you would always have someone to stay with if you wanted to visit Quinn. And visit you did.

Your grade 12 year was hard academically, but you worked your butt off to be able to have one weekend a month where you would hop in your car & jam out for a few hours while making the drive down to see Quinn. Your family had moved closer to London because of your Dads new job, so your drive was only 3 hours instead of the 5ish from Toronto. Your parents didnt love you driving cross border, but they were glad that Ellen & Jim were around when you were there.

The visits were timed for home game weekends and you finished classes at noon, so you’d drive down Friday afternoon & be there when jack & the boys got out of school so you could hang out with them for a bit, drive in to Ann Arbour to watch the game & then spend the rest of your evening with Quinn in his dorm. Friday nights weren’t too crazy because the boys had another game Saturday.

Saturdays were spent catching up with the rest of the Hughes and exploring with Quinn before another game and parties afterwards. Sundays brought goodbyes and promises of see you soon before you’d head home in the afternoon. It was difficult but you wouldn’t change it for anything.

At the same time, you were applying to universities & waiting anxiously to hear back. You applied all over the country, but your heart was set on one. UBC had been your dream school for as long as you could remember. It was where your parents studied, where they fell in love, and had some of the best programs in the world. You had worked your ass off for the last three years to be able to apply early decision to their Commerce program, and if you get in, there’s was no question of where you were going.

Quinn was declaring for the draft that year, which brought more concern from friends and family. “What will you do if he ends up…” was a phrase you heard often over the course of the year, but your response was always “we’ll figure it out” because you knew you would.

The weekend you visited in January (2018) you finally had that conversation with Quinn. After his game Friday, you were in his room when you got the notification. UBC release early application decision. Terrified, you couldn’t bring yourself to check. As much as you wanted it you were afraid of what moving clear across the country would do for you & Quinn. You told him your fears, that the distance, time difference & uncertainty of where he’d be after he joined the league, coupled with you being there for four years would be too hard for the two of you.

“I’d wait my whole life for you if I had to” he told you and you believed him without a shadow of a doubt because you’d do the same. His reassurances made you feel better, and you opened the portal. Accepted. All those years of working had paid off, and you cried. You & Quinn would figure things out, but you were headed to your dream school and he was headed for his dream.

Within a week you had solidified your decision and were bound for Vancouver come September.

That June, you accompany him to Dallas for the draft. As things get underway you sit there, squeezing his hand. The first few picks happen and you can’t help but be relieved that he’s not headed clear across the country. He’s projected to go top ten so when Vancouver come to pick seventh, you hold your breath. Surely you wouldn’t be that lucky.

Quinn Hughes.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling that hearing his name called by the Canucks brought. He wraps you in a hug & whispers in your ear “told you it’d all work out” before hugging his brother & parents & heading down to the stage. You’re so proud of him, but more than that you’re excited for what the future holds, especially with the two of you in the same city. There’s always the possibility of him being traded before he ever get to Vancouver, but you’re hopeful.

Two weeks later you’re officially a high school graduate & it’s time for summer. You split your time between your home in London & visiting the Hughes lake house, spending as much time with all your friends and family as you can before heading off to Vancouver. Quinn heads back to Michigan for his sophomore year & you head west.

That year was hard, really hard. Being away from your family for the first time, you and Quinn struggling to find time to talk to each other and the time difference meaning accidental calls in the middle of the night, all balanced with your classes and trying to get involved on campus, late nights in the library, pressure from your new friends to go out with them, missing everyone and an overwhelming amount of assignments leads you to a breakdown first semester.

It hurts Quinn that he can’t be there to hold you as you sob on the phone, but the five hour flight between Detroit & Vancouver is just too much. He knows that your relationship is putting extra strain on you, but he can’t even fathom breaking up or taking a break because that would break him. Slowly you’re able to sort your head out, and as your first semester draws to a close you’re doing much better and have a handle on things.

Excited to see your family and Quinn, you jump on the first flight you can after finishing your finals, bound for Toronto. You were heading home to London and Quinn planned on coming up for a bit since he saw his family pretty often, but then he was chosen for the World Juniors squad. Thankfully it was in Buffalo, so you celebrate christmas, and on the 26th make the drive down. Youre able to spend a week there, cheering Quinn on & hanging out with Ellen & Luke.

It’s during this week that Quinn tells you that he’s signing with the Canucks at the end of the Michigan season.

You needed the break & went into your second semester feeling strong and more confident in your ability to manage everything. Winter in Vancouver is fairly mild and soon enough, Reading Week arrives in February. Many of your friends are heading south for a bit of sun, but you head to Detroit. Michigan have back to back home weekends and Jack’ll be around too.

During the week you spend time with Quinn, working on assignments while he’s in class & just enjoying time together, also visiting the Hughes household and hanging out with Jack & his friends there. Sunday you fly back to Vancouver, ready to finish out your semester.

A few weeks later you get the call. It’s official, Quinn’s coming to Vancouver. You borrow a friends car & are waiting for him at the airport. You’d think it’d been months if you’d seen your reunion in the arrivals area of the airport, not mere weeks.

Quinns thrown right into the Canucks and the adjustment to the pros is hard, but knowing you’re only 20 minutes away makes it easier for him. You spend as much time together as you can, with you acting as tour guide & showing him around your favourite spots in the city.

Your friends don’t understand how you don’t miss him too much when the team goes on road trips, but two years into your relationship & you’re finally in the same city for an extended period of time & can see him mostly whenever you want so a week or two apart doesn’t phase you.

You get close to the team, always Quinns date to functions & occasionally spotted around the arena. Petey becomes a good friends of yours since he’s rooming with Quinn & you spend enough time in their apartment.

Many of the fans & people online come to know you as “Quinn’s girl”. Any home game you’re right behind the bench, cheering your heart out for the Canucks and chirping the opposing team (especially if its Ottawa. Brady & Josh hate playing in Vancouver because of you.) Once Jack gets to the NHL ooh boy. That man knows no peace when the Devils play Vancouver. It’s one of the only away games you ever go to (if they play in Jersey) mainly because you get to see the rest of the fam.

I mean you grew up in Toronto & around these boys. You couldn’t not take an interest in hockey. At that point you know someone on every team through Quinn & spend your time terrorizing them when they’re at Rogers. The fans absolutely love it though. Hell, half of your friends are hockey fans now, forced to watch games when the Canucks are away or Jack and Luke play.

The two of you spend summers back east, between working, visiting family & days at the lake. You’re able to get internships that are remote so you could still work on your career plans but enjoy your summers , and by the end of your third summer you have a job offer from a firm in Vancouver. Fourth year brings lots of fun & final memories with your college friends before you all split off to different parts of the country.

The end of Quinns third year in the league comes at the same time as your graduation. His family & yours come out and Quinn drags a bunch of the team with him too. When your name gets called out, that section is by far the loudest of the day.

Your friends are convinced that he’s going to propose that weekend. In fact, many of them are surprised that you aren’t already engaged, you’ve been together for 5 years at this point, but both of you are still young. You have had the conversation, but you know that you’re going to be together forever so the timeline isn’t that important.

What he does ask you that weekend, is to move in with him. You’ve spent the last 3 years living with your friends close to campus while Quinn’s been living downtown near the arena. It’s an obvious yes, especially since you spend almost every night there when he’s home anyway. You spend the week with your families and move into a new apartment, excited for what’s coming next.

Living together isn’t seamless, but you & Quinn make it work. The beginning is difficult, not having your own space but soon you fit into each others lives easily. You work during the week & go to games if they’re at home, you spend time exploring new areas around the city & nearby & you fall more in love with Quinn every day.

He brings you coffee in bed each morning because he’s up for workouts, date nights at home cooking dinner and lots of fun over the summers with family & friends. Winter trips to the mountains when you can and fall in the city, you usually separate in the heart of summer since you can’t take that long off & he’ll head to Michigan but it doesn’t phase you.

Which brings you to today. It’s late April & its been two years since you moved in together. Quinns killing it for the Canucks, breaking records & their season has just ended, you’ve just been promoted and life is going well.

The city is coming more alive as winter’s on its way out, you're getting ready to take a few weeks break & head east to see both of your families. Luke has made his NHL debut & the Devils have made the playoffs so you’re going to cheer your boys on.

You’re making dinner when you hear the front door open & Quinn comes through the door after final team meetings for this season.

“Hey babe” he comes up behind you and gives you a kiss before heading into your bedroom to shower & change. You pour another glass of wine as you stir the pot, your go to playlist on with a mix of soft pop, indie and chill country coming through the speaker. Ten minutes later Quinn comes back out & you hold up a spoon for him to taste the sauce.

“Few more minutes” you say as he tastes it & he nods. “Delicious”

The two of you stand there at the stove, his arms around your waist as he sings along with the music softly & you sway. A few minutes later, the song Never seen anything quite like you starts & Quinn reaches over & turns off the stove.

He pulls you towards your living room and you laugh as he pulls you into a high school style dance where you just sway & shuffle in a circle.

The song plays in the the background as you stare up into Quinns eyes and he sings along, more grateful than ever that you found him. The love you have for this man knows no bounds and he’s still giving you butterflies & making you feel giddy with just a look after seven years.

He sings along with the song and you feel every word in your soul.

I think I want you more than want

I know I need you more than need

I want to hold you more than hold

When you stood in front of me

I think you know me more than know

And you see me more than see

I could die now more than die

Every time you look at me

Well I've seen you in jeans with no make-up on

And I've stood there in awe as your date for the prom

But then he switches it up

“I’d be blessed as a man to see you in white”

Wait what?

he pulls away and sinks to one knee in front of you, and your hand comes up to your mouth. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out a gorgeous simple ring

“When I first came to Vancouver, everyone kept asking what my first big purchase was going to be. The day I signed my contract I bought this. I’ve known since I was 16 that I was in love with you. That love has only continued to grow & I want nothing more than to spend every day for the rest of my life loving you. You’re my light in the dark, the one I look for in a crowd, the only person I always want around. It’s always been you.

It’s a privilege to call you mine, but it would be an honour to call you my wife. So y/n my love, will you marry me?”

You hiccup out a yes, tears streaming down your face & you sink to your knees beside him

“I love you so much” you pull him into a kiss. He slips the ring onto your finger & pulls you to him, pressing kiss after kiss to your face. You giggle & say

“A thousand times yes, in every universe”

Xxx

Note: if you were wondering the actual lyrics are

"I'm blessed as a man to have seen you in white But I've never seen anything quite like you tonight"

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #jjwritesshit #vancouver canucks #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #x reader #song fic ish #the script #never seen anything quite like you

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