#i dont even remember what the fic was about but i think about this title daily it's so them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

h4ndwr1tten · 4 months

Note

HI omg this has been eating away at me,, could i request an angsty (but with a happy ending) fic where the reader has been in love with kento ever since they were classmates at juju high and she always flirts with him but he rejects her every time up until the present day at shibuya where she saves his life by using a technique that gives him her life force and allows him to regenerate ig or take the blow of the hit and that leaves her on the brink kf death and kento realizes how much he's actually been in love with her the whole time and somehow she survives and he literally g r o v e l s and confesses and UGH this is too long i'm sorry but feel free to change some details to your convenience, TYSMM 🫶🫶🫶

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

characters — nanami kento x reader

note — i'm genuinely sorry i dont post requests on time :( anyways i didn't know how to end it so if i have time to i might rewrite it? i'm just trying to get this out bc i feel bad for leaving anon hanging.. (CORNY AHH TITLE)

cw — anxiousness, unrequited love (or so it seems) in the first half, violence kinda?, reader gets hurt and ends up in the hospital, kissing on the hand, confession ish, shitty ending might rewrite, not proofread. lmk if i missed any.

synopsis — you've gone through years and years confessing your feelings to kento, but this mission might be the scariest thing you've gone through. even for kento.

goosebumps covered your skin as worry churns in your stomach. on every other mission, you had felt worry and fear regarding the mission, but it was a normal thing that almost every other sorcerer experienced. those feelings, however, weren't the nagging, unrelenting ones you were feeling right now.

no, this was a gut feeling. of what, you couldn't decide. you knew it was a gut feeling because of the way it couldn't be diminished through encouragement and reassurance, and the way it came crawling back to you every time you were able to get your mind off of it. despite knowing you weren't going to be alone in this mission, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and fearful for not just yourself, but everyone involved as well.

especially kento.

kento was going on this mission, alongside a few other sorcerers, and the thought of going into this with you provided some solace for your troubles. you felt safe with him, you always have.

ever since your high school days as a student at jujutsu high, you've always been drawn to kento. he was one first friends there, and despite not being exactly best friends, you always cherished his company.

that is until a year later, you began seeing him in a different light, one that was more romantic than platonic. you started noticing the little details that made kento, kento. how he liked to keep his blond hair swept to his right. how he would subconsciously hum to himself when he was focused on something. how he always made room for something sweet after dinner. you began to crave his presence more than you usually did. you started seeking him out in classes and in crowds. you tried your best to impress him, whether it be working hard in class, giving your all during practice, or fighting hard on a mission. you even began flirting with him, starting off subtle before becoming more obvious. you did everything you could think of just so he could see you the way you saw him.

you remember the first time he rejected you. you remember how at first, you were in denial because you really thought you had a chance. you cried to shoko about it, and somehow satoru and suguru as well (they were eavesdropping and jumped into the conversation). then you cried more by yourself, eventually falling into a deep slumber after exhausting yourself.

~~~

"hi ken!" you greeted your friend, a little more eager than usual.

you were up last night, convincing yourself that it was time to confess your feelings and that he would feel the same, or at least give you a chance. you had been keeping your feelings to yourself for a little over a month now, and you felt like you couldn't wait any longer.

now here you were, standing in front of the teen you had a massive crush on, who was sitting on a bench under a tree, with a book in his hand and his favorite sandwich lying on the space next to him.

kento sent you a small smile in acknowledgement, before slightly scooting to the side as if to make room for you.

you blushed at the gesture then took a seat on the bench, watching kento as he flipped a page in his book.

"what're you reading?" you ask. to be honest, you weren't really interested in his book. you just wanted to start a conversation before confessing your feelings for him.

"a biography," he answered briefly.

"about who?"

"some warrior."

then, setting the book down, kento turned to you with a curious look on his face. "did you need something, y/n?"

his amber eyes found yours and a sudden wave of nerves came over you. where had your determination and confidence gone? your heart probably grabbed them both and chucked it out of your body and across the nation. then its beating increased, as if taunting you for being so confident.

"um," you started slowly, breaking the eye contact and looking down at your lap. "i... you..."

"take your time," kento hummed. was it obvious how anxious you became, or was he just that good at reading people?

you began fidgeting with the hem of your skirt while trying to find the right words. a simple 'i like you' wouldn't suffice, because what you felt seemed stronger than just a 'like'. this was so much easier in your head. with a deep breath to prepare you and shifting your gaze back to him, you finally spoke.

"nanamikentoihavefeelingsforyou."

"huh?"

"i have... feelings for you," you spoke more slowly this time.

his brow quirked up, and as he opened his mouth to respond, you cut him off.

"i like you."

so much for not saying 'i like you'.

"oh."

oh? what oh? was that a good oh or a bad oh? you thought to yourself. kento grew silent and looked down at the grass, and his silence worsened your nerves. you were squeezing the end bit of your skirt now, while your mind was playing every other scenario you could have been in right now.

"kento?" his name leaving your mouth in a barely there whisper.

he turned back to you with pink cheeks and ears. you would've thought he was flattered if it wasn't for what he said next.

"i'm sorry, y/n. if you mean romantic feelings, and you like me in that sense, i don't feel the same way."

the whole world stopped. the distant chatter and bird calls faded into silence. the rise and fall of your chest paused as you felt yourself stop breathing. your cramped fingers finally stilled a against your skirt. your head kept replaying those words again and again, and your shattered heart dropped to your stomach, bringing a sick feeling with it.

"oh," you whispered. "i see."

you couldn't bare to be in this area anymore, or anywhere near kento. you were so sure that he'd at least want to see where things go with you. had you become so delusional and forgotten to think that being rejected was the other half of all possible outcomes?

a gentle hand then laid on your shoulder, while a face came into your peripherals. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing it would only bring you more shame.

"but we can still remain friends. it won't be awkward, to me at least," kento suggested politely and, what he might've thought, comfortingly.

but it only worsened your humiliation. he just had to use that term, that wretched word. as if his rejection wasn't enough, he really thought it was a good idea to say the damned f-word after confessing he didn't feel the same.

you knew kento only had good intentions in mind when he said it, and you understood that he never meant to hurt you with his words. but that simple sentence made it clear to you that that was all he saw you as.

a friend.

you could feel your throat closing up, your nose burning, and your eyes beginning to prick. kento already felt bad, it was clear, and you didn't want to make him feel worse. so you decided that it was time to leave, and maybe never leave your bed again.

"okay, well," you sniffed, wiping a stray tear and standing up, "thank you for being honest and telling me how you feel."

upon seeing your crestfallen face, kento frowned. "y/n, i'm sorry—"

"no, don't apologize. i understand," you smiled sadly.

after mumbling a broken and half-hearted 'have a wonderful evening', you left the bench under the tree and cried the rest of the day.

~~~

despite being rejected and so, so hurt, you quickly came to realize that your feelings weren't fading any time soon. they continued to linger, like someone who couldn't take a hint and conversing with another who just wanted to get through the day. you yourself got the hint, the message—kento didn't reciprocate your feelings. but your heart didn't quite get the memo, as it refused to let go of the man.

over time, your feelings grew stronger and so did the urge to confess once again. so you confessed, and once again, you were rejected. this time, however, you cried a little less. moved on a little quicker. and you tried again.

this grew into a cycle, an unhealthy one, for the rest of your high school years. it was predictable and pathetic, but with feelings for kento as strong as yours? you were determined to get him to see you as more than just his good friend, hell, to even go out on at least one date.

and now, present times, nothing had changed. you were still in love with nanami kento and he... well, he was still not in love. you were still confessing and he was still rejecting. you might've seemed desperate, but your feelings never went away and kento never ended his friendship with you, so it had to mean something. right?

right now, however, your feelings were the least of your worries. your brows were furrowed, your bottom lip was tucked in between your teeth, and you were wringing your wrists over and over. despite going on this mission with the man you trusted above all, you felt that things wouldn't turn out the way they should.

"are you alright, y/n?" kento quietly asked you, having noticed your silence and body language.

"hm? oh, yeah. i'm just," you paused, then whispered, "scared."

you felt kento's hand gently lay on your shoulder, feeling his eyes on your own as he spoke, "it's going to be okay. i'll be there with you the entire time, and i will do my best to keep you safe and unharmed."

smiling up at him, you nodded and thanked him. he nodded once back, then led you two out the door and onto the mission.

you could barely function at this point. your vision was clouded with dark fuzzy spots, you could barely move your sore and numb limbs, your ears were ringing as though an alarm were blaring in them. your head was throbbing as blood trickled down your face from the gash above your brow, and your heart was racing faster than it ever had before.

the mission had gone horribly wrong; the curse was far more dangerous and powerful than expected. it could birth weaker clones that were still enough to cause damage, and the only way to stop the multiplication was to eliminate the main curse.

which had set its dark, blood lusted eyes on you for the past half hour. and in that time, you felt your life flashing before your eyes. you didn't know where kento had gone—the last you saw of him was taking on an army of the multiples.

your delayed movements weren't helping much. all your energy had been depleted whilst trying to fight survive the curse, making it almost impossible to use your cursed technique. if you thought fighting was exhausting, then trying to stay conscious felt much worse.

as you tried (and failed) to focus on executing technique, the curse came out of nowhere and violently hurled you into a nearby destroyed building. you broke through the remains of a wall, the only thing breaking your fall being a mound of ash and dust. chunks of the wall surrounded you, while a larger portion lay on the rest of your body below your shoulders. .

"y/n!"

despite the ringing and your heart thrumming in your ears, you could hear his distant yell for you. he must have finally gotten rid of the multiples when the main was focused on you, or held them off long enough to find you. whatever he did, though, you couldn't focus on right now. all you could really think of was the excruciating pain and fear you were experiencing.

the impact from you hitting the wall had knocked the wind out of you and the wall fragment on your chest made things even worse. your lungs felt tight on the inside, while they were being crushed on the outside. you could barely get in any air, the most you could take in being a mere gasp. you were beginning to panic now. were you going to die? is this how you were going out, because you were unable to defeat a curse? where was kento?

you didn't realize it but tears had begun to fall from your eyes. a reaction caused by the emotions and physical pain you were overwhelmed with. you were scared, so fucking terrified to meet your inevitable end.

what you also didn't know was that kento was fighting his ass off trying to murder the curse. it felt a bit easier because of all the anger he was feeling towards the creature for absolutely wrecking you. all rationality left his body the moment he saw you be carelessly thrown like a rag doll, and now he found himself brutally attacking the curse with no remorse. even satoru was shocked at his behavior, as he thought this curse would need more than one person to defeat it.

it took a few minutes longer, but kento had defeated the curse. he had sliced up the lower body and saved the stupid, ugly head for last, cutting it in half through the eyes and another half through the side. and in exactly 5 seconds, the curse had let out a final whine before it's dismembered body and quartered head disintegrated into pools of foul-smelling acid, but kento could care less about it.

he sprinted to where you were laying, not caring that satoru was calling after him, not caring that civilians were hurt or scared. you were the only thing on his mind and his body burned with the sickening fear that you were—

no, he couldn't bare to think of it. you were strong, persistent, determined. you didn't give up that easily, he would know. kento knew you would put up a fight, and a good one at that, before you'd let death win over and welcome you. but the question was, how long did until that fight was over?

luckily enough, kento could see your dust-covered body underneath the rubble. your skin was losing its color quickly and he could see you trembling, hear you crying fearfully and painfully calling for help. he rushed to your side, immediately but gently lifting the broken debris off your frail body.

"k-kento," you wheezed, tears pouring out of your eyes and leaving trails through the dust. "i can't—i can't b-breathe, it.. hurts."

kento's hands were shaking violently, panic settling in and his mind wondering darker thoughts. with one hand, he gently cupped your face and looked into your glossy eyes.

"it's okay, y/n. everything will be okay, i'm going to get you out of here, and we'll get you help, i promise. just stay calm for me, okay?"

his reassurance was enough to quell the some of the anxiety gnawing at your insides. despite trembling badly, kento hastily continued to uncover your body from the wall. the larger piece took more effort, and though his hands were burning an angry red, kento continued to lift and push, then threw it somewhere away from you.

kento felt sick at the sight of your battered frame. your natural skin color was barely visible as bruises covered almost the entirety of your body. cuts and gashes so deep they would scar marked your torso, and blood was seeping out through them. he was a strong man who'd seen enough gore to make even the coldest people faint, but seeing you in this condition made his eyes sting and burn.

"kento," you sobbed, the pain becoming too much to bear.

not wasting anymore time, kento gently scooped you into his arms, but despite his best efforts, the winces and cries you let out let him know that even the slightest touch hurt like hell. he began to speed walk to satoru, yelling out for the man while trying not to bounce you too much.

his heart was racing faster than it ever had before. a kind of fear he had never felt was consuming him, tightening around his entire body and squeezing his lungs. he could barely breathe, barely think properly.

meanwhile, you could slowly feel yourself begin to drift out of consciousness. was this death opening its gates to you? welcoming you in the worst way possible, having the life leave your body in the arms of the man you were in love with? everything began to feel numb. you weren't crying anymore. you were feeling a little sleepy.

"y/n, don't you dare close your eyes!"

kento's loud and firm voice abruptly knocked some consciousness into you, keeping you awake for a little longer. he gave you a gentle squeeze on your arm, a whine escaping you at the ache.

"i'm so sorry, i don't want to hurt you. we're going to get you help, alright? satoru!"

you couldn't process what happened after that, as the ringing in your ears returned. your vision became fuzzy, but the last thing you remember was a mess of snowy hair, teary hazel eyes, and the world around you spinning.

you fell asleep.

the sound of steady beeps sounded throughout the area you were in. consciousness slowly making its way back into your body.

you were tired, so exhausted. you just wanted to sleep for a month, but as memories began to flood your mind, the desire to sleep seemed harder to achieve.

the last thing you recall happening was kento pulling you out of the remains of a building, carrying you bridal style away from where you had laid, and satoru placing a hand on both you and kento. anything after that, you had no recollection of.

the incessant beep coming from your left prompted you to open your eyes. you squinted right away, your pupils slowly adjusting to the change of brightness. above you were fluorescent lights and around you were clean, white walls. the room had little to no decoration or color and it felt sterile. physical feeling had come back to you, and you felt your body wrapped in thin sheets, laid on a firm mattress. tubes ran up and down your arms and you could feel them underneath the gown you found yourself in.

you hadn't taken too long to figure out that you were in a hospital room. what you didn't realize right away was the blond man sitting next to your bed, his head buried in one arm and the other holding your hand. he wasn't in his usual blue dress shirt and slacks. instead, he was in a plain black tee and sweats. you figured he must have changed during the time you were unconscious, which you still had yet to find out.

your mind was running slower than ever today, because it had just clicked that nanami kento was holding your hand. he was the last person you saw when you passed out and the first person you see when you awoke. had kento been here by your side the entire time?

wanting to see more of him, you shifted your weight onto your elbows, trying to prop yourself up and painfully failing. sharp stabbing-like sensation ran through your right shoulder, a burning one across your left arm, and your back felt stiff and extremely sore.

a loud wince involuntarily escaped your lips, tears rushing to your eyes at the overwhelming aches. immediately, kento woke and snapped his head, looking confused for a second, then realizing what was happening next.

"heyheyhey, y/n, don't move too much. you're still recovering, so just lie down, alright?"

he had stood from his seat and helped slowly lower your body back into the bed. he held you so firmly yet so gently as if not to hurt you or you'd break. he then pulled the thin sheets over your lap to keep you warm, then adjusted the bed so that you were slightly sitting up with support.

then, carefully cupping your face, he wiped a stray tear with his thumb, then lightly stroked across your cheek. his eyes were so full of concern as he scanned your entire face, as if making sure you were really here. the emotion radiating off of him and the way he held you with such delicacy made you feel so safe and cared for.

"how are you feeling?" kento whispered, brows slightly furrowed.

"it hurts," you whispered in response. a frown crossed kento's face and he genuinely looked so broken to know you were in great pain.

"i'm so, so sorry, y/n," kento apologized, breaking eye contact and bowing his head, almost shamefully. "i should have been there, by your side. i should've just let gojo take care of the clones, hell, the actual curse itself. i should have been there—"

"kento," you cut him off. you couldn't handle hearing him blame himself for your near-death experience. he couldn't have saved you while defending himself, and if there was a choice to be made, you would've rather he lived.

"please... don't think this was your fault," you requested, voice raspy from not talking and the incident. "it was not your fault the curse decided to come after me. it was not your fault i wasn't strong enough to fight it alone—"

"but that's the thing, y/n," kento argued. "you couldn't have taken that thing on alone. i should have been there to aid you and help take it down."

in an attempt to lighten the mood, you exhaled a laugh through your nose and joked, "what, you don't think i'm strong enough to fight a special-grade?"

kento gave you a pointed look, unamused at your quip. you smiled apologetically back before looking away from him, any trace of humor leaving your face.

"it's not that i don't think you're strong enough," he sighed. "i feel like i let you down."

"i should have stayed by your side. i shouldn't have let us get separated, i should have followed you, but i didn't. and now, look where we are."

he gestures to your frail figure, gently holding your arm and avoiding your eyes out of shame. boldly, you reached for his hand held it in both of yours, the action bringing his eyes to your own.

"kento, this wasn't your fault. i mean it. don't say anything of it again, or i'll purposely get your orders wrong when i'm bringing lunch. you were trying to save yourself, as was i. maybe i could have used some help, but that only means i need to improve my technique and combat. which also means, you could help me with that. maybe i could have died, but i'm here now, aren't i?" you rambled, not bothering to stop when kento opened his mouth to rebut. "let's not dwell on what's already happened and move forward, please?"

he fell silent, pressing his lips together in a thin line. it seemed as though there was more he wanted to say, and you knew there was, but this conversation would never end—he wouldn't be relieved of his guilt.

a sigh passed through kento's lips, more pigmented after pressing them together tightly. he nodded and as he rubbed gentle circles onto the top of your hand, he whispered an agreement.

you smiled at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him. kento kept wordless for another minute, head hung low and eyes shut. it was visible to anyone that his guilt was swallowing him whole, but he was fighting it for you. he covered your hand with his other, both hands now encasing your own. taking you by surprise, kento brought your hand up to his lips and placed the gentlest lingering kiss atop the skin. his lips, so soft and so warm, left a light buzz on the spot they laid on, and one throughout your body.

"when everything gets cleared up—your health, the reports—i'm taking you out."

what?

"seeing you hurt and in this state made me come to my senses. it confirmed something i had held back for so long, and made me realize that i can't wait."

"kento... what are you saying?" you mumbled slowly, confusion evident in every word.

he sighs, treading carefully. it's clear he's figuring out the right words to say, how to express how he's feeling.

"i'm saying that... in our line of work, developing close bonds with people can be dangerous. we can never be too sure, we can never be too close to someone because in the blink of an eye, it might be gone. what we do is dangerous. but, i think that not taking a chance is even more dangerous."

he sighs shakily, "and i am guilty of not realizing this sooner. but fate seems to be on my side, because even if i don't take them, chances keep coming back to me. and i think now, i'm ready to take it."

kento kisses your hand and brings his eyes to yours, finally declaring,

"i'm ready to take this chance with you."

and you smile, nodding as fireworks go off throughout your being.

after all these years, he finally likes you back.

note — sorry for the corny ending, i just needed to get the request done 😭 and sincerest apologized to the anon who requested, i really have no excuse other than writers block and busy schedules :(

m. list

#.h4ndwr1tten #nanami kento #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami angst #nanami fluff

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leclsrc · 11 months

Text

like you should ✴︎ cl16

genre: just. Like. sexual tension…, reader is max’s gf, no explicit smut but heavy innuendos so just beware, everyone is Morally Bankrupt so turn away if u dont fancy that

word count: 11.3k

If you don’t learn from history, it’ll stick around and find a way to repeat itself – even if the history is with your boyfriend’s rival, and its repetition happens behind his back.

auds here… hi hi hi!!! not proofread sry; i wanted to write something like this for a while haha, i had a bunch of reqs from january(!!!) that served as the basis for it. title from this it was this fic's inspo savior. full disclosure this is fiction n doesn’t at all reflect how i view max/charles :) love love love u all sorry for being mia so constantly & enjoy this jumble of sexual tension haha. happy june friends!!!

Monaco is always an affair in itself. Humid, music blaring, and full of celebrities, you pose for a few paddock pictures, exchanging no words with Max. He’s idle beside you, cap drawn over his dirty blond hair, hand on your waist, the other scrolling through emails and Instagram. Your dad’s somewhere here, too, if you remember right—he texted you about being with Christian, at a meeting somewhere about Checo or something. You can’t be arsed to remember. You flew in two hours ago after a days-long inner turmoil, trying to decide if you wanted to come at all.

Max didn’t sound too eager for you to arrive, either, but you theorize it’s because you’ve both been tired with work lately. He’s leagues above everyone else now, but the demand of work snatches what little quality time you could’ve spent with him. You suck it up, lacing your fingers together and hoping this is a dry spell—physical and emotional—that just needs to be waited out.

How’s the weather? You ask casually when you’re inside his room, burying your face into his shoulder. He presses an absentminded kiss to your head. “Should be fine.”

“Anything you’re worried about?” You make yourself busy rifling through his closet. It’s more of the same. Polos proudly showcasing the logo of the team that’s brought him to the top. He usually keeps three spare ones, but there’s an extra smaller one that you unfold and dangle in front of you. “Whose is this?”

He glances. Kelly’s. When you gesture for elaboration—Nelson Piquet’s daughter? Christian asked me to give her one. You don’t pay attention to it, folding it neatly and placing it inside again. He pipes up to answer your earlier question, voice light as it is solemn. It’s Charles’ home race.

“So?” It comes out sharper than you intend, considering Max is more a friend than his rival. You turn to try and soften your hostile phrasing. “I mean. It’s… you’ve been dominating the leaderboard.” No way you’ll show him you’re worried for Charles, too. “Their car is horseshit.” It is and it worries you.

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’ll talk to him for a bit. You’ll be okay alone?” He’s getting up already.

“Wait—” You pause when he’s kissing your cheek as a goodbye. “I thought we were getting lunch.”

“Make it dinner, then.”

“No,” you protest weakly. “I’m going to be with my dad.”

“Drinks.” He leaves no room for argument and leaves with the door shutting softly behind him. You exhale loud through your nostrils and shut the closet door, leaving to explore the paddock. It’s familiar grounds for you, not just because of Max but because of your dad, who began insisting you attend races again a few years ago. You should know Red Bull, he’d said then. The team I’m sponsoring. The team I give millions to.

Purely to appease him, you gave in and attended a race for the first time in a long stretch, just a few years ago. You’ve attended almost every race since then, and those have often blurred into one homogenous memory (sitting, watching, cheering, hugging, drinking), but the first race remains clear as the day your driver dropped you off at the entrance to the paddock, a VIP lanyard slung over your neck and sunglasses perched on your nose.

You stare at the just-closed door, his bag still abandoned on the bed, his dismissive tone, the polo you’ve just folded up. Max is hiding something—you just can’t put your finger on it.

—

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Monza 2019! The host goes, a reporter-esque smile greeting the crowds on the big screens. Monza is intimidating. You’re being guided around the ups and downs of the paddock by somebody whose name you’ve forgotten and remembered and forgotten again, short in stature with a posh English accent. Your dad is somewhere, in a meeting perhaps, which means your re-introduction to the world of racing is up to this man alone.

“Christian!” Someone says behind you, and oh right his name is Christian. Christian—Hormut, or something. You’ve blurred his last name from memory, too. Christian ends up having to excuse himself to attend to a pressing practice problem, and he leaves you with one of his drivers.

Max is his name. He’s funny, charming, and vulgar in the way all Europeans are (you’re not at all surprised when he tells you he’s Dutch), and handsome, moreso when the topic gets to racing and he starts talking quick and with passion. It’s something you admire.

“You don’t know what quali is?” He asks when he hands you a vodka soda.

You laugh. “My dad was always insanely busy with work as a kid, so I liked not knowing anything about it.” You always wanted to remove yourself from the racing and just be your dad’s daughter. “I’ve only been to a handful of races, and even then I was way younger.”

“You’ll like this one.”

You squint onto the paddock and recall the motif that’s been teeming around you all day long—red. Red, red, and more red. There are fans whose faces are painted red, bold and shiny against the unrelenting sunny weather. Internally, your curiosity is piqued. Red Bull, perhaps? “Are those your fans?”

Max follows your gaze curiously. “Oh,” he says when he sees the crowd of red. He sips his beer. “No, that’s for Ferrari. They always attract a proper crowd in Monza.”

You hum, the name more than familiar to you. “Red sea.” You spot a few signs in Italian, a few fans taking pictures, and finally your interest wanes, eyes gravitating back to Max. “You nervous?

“Rarely am.” He smiles. “Will you be watching?”

“Probably,” you respond, momentarily searching the surrounding area for your dad. “I’ll be with my dad someplace.”

“You owe me a congratulations,” says Max as he gets up, his name being called from somewhere behind you. “Okay?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “I’ll save it.”

You’d spaced out mid-race and watched from a flatscreen TV inside instead, but lost the plot at some point, so you ask around for who the winner is. The winner ends up not being Max, you’re told by one of your dad’s assistants, Ben, when you emerge from his office after the flag is waved.

Everybody, however, is talking in a secondary racing jargon—they say things like P1 and front wing and strategist, failing to dumb things down for you. You piece things together and realize the winner is a Ferrari driver—but, if your memory serves you right, there are two drivers. You don’t know which one it is. Then again, you don’t know the drivers themselves, either.

You reunite with your dad and Christian Harper (you think) in the garage, where Ben hands you a pair of giant headphones that transmit scratchy, loud radio audio; you remove them and ask him a million questions instead. Nearby, the Ferrari garage is exploding with screams, but they don’t come close to the roars of the red crowd, which almost seems to breathe collectively, scream collectively, celebrate as one. You’re almost transfixed with how loud they are, how passionate they are, with their winner. Their golden guy. Your dad’s mouth is set in a straight line.

“Who won?” You ask, voice raised to try and become audible despite the cheering.

Ben points, squinting under his eyeglasses. You follow the direction of his finger to the finish line. There, parked beside the first place sign, is somebody standing atop his car. He’s wearing red. Showered in red. Surrounded by red. It’s tantalizing, the way his win has commanded the entire area. Your mouth is half-open, lips parted in soft shock.

You tap Ben again. “Yeah, who is he?”

“Leclerc,” he says, pinching his nosebridge. “Ferrari’s new guy. A friend of Max’s, but a rival, too.” He sighs lowly. “Your dad’s biggest problem.”

Christian Harris makes a quip about you having to go find and comfort Max, but you space out, still staring at the winner. Leclerc. You’ve got no face to his name, just the opaque visor of his helmet and the two proud fists in the air, inciting even louder cheers from the crowd. You focus harder, as if that would somehow reveal his face to you.

But he’s faceless, a winner of mystery for now—and for the rest of the evening as you’re ushered back to Red Bull alongside your dad.

—

“Do you want to come to an afterparty?” Ben asks, tapping away on his phone. Emails and texts crowd his notifications. “We need to know if you’ll need a car tonight.” He follows you around, exasperated with your quick pace that even he can’t keep up with. “And if so, which car.”

“No, no car.” You respond, walking. “Which afterparty?”

“Any, really. There’s, uh… a Red Bull one, a few yacht ones, Max mentioned dropping by APM Monaco’s and—”

“No afterparty,” you say with tense finality once you hear the option. “All the drivers do is drink and get sleazy.”

“O-kay,” he taps. “I didn’t realize you had such a… vendetta against the drivers?”

You laugh a little, peering over the lens of your sunglasses to try and spot familiar faces. Actors, models, drivers’ relatives—the place is packed, and the weather is hot. “When did I say that?” You ask, looking around at hyper speed.

“It was implied.” Ben pauses and eyes you, curious but already on the brink of suspicious. Your gaze is darting everywhere, clearly trying to find something to catch on. “What are you looking for?”

Caught red-handed, you slow down the speed at which your eyes scan over the paddock and settle them on your watch, pursing your lips. You clear your throat and raise an eyebrow, turning the questioning back to Ben. “I’m not looking for anyo—”

“Hey,” comes a voice from right behind you, a hand coming up to tap against your shoulder. You don’t have time to turn and identify the culprit because he moves to stand in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks with a teasing smirk. “Max did not tell me you would be here.” He crosses his arms. “Excited? I know I am. Home race and all.”

You swallow but your throat is dry. “I’m excited to cheer for my boyfriend.”

Charles smiles, satisfied that he managed to get on your nerves. With curiosity and anticipation, Ben keeps to himself and watches the exchange unfold, arms crossed. Charles presses on. “Are you coming to the party later?”

“I might,” you say, mind changed.

“Alright, see you.” With the sun weakening the tint of his sunglasses, and his hair raked back by his backwards cap, you have a clear view of the way his left eye drops into a smug wink. He smiles again, boyish, before he’s turning to leave you with Ben, who turns to you.

“You’re friends?”

The most decent answer leaves your lips dismissively. “Acquainted.”

—

You lose all sense of inhibition (and navigation) as soon as you step a heeled foot into the club, but it’s nothing you haven’t experienced before. Years of clubbing and fake IDs have prepared you for the tactics used to snake your way through the crowd of people, eventually finding yourself at the VIP area of the Monza afterparty, where one look at your face is enough to let the bouncer let you through wordlessly.

“The team’s finest!” Christian greets jokingly with a smile. Why he’s here, you’ve no idea—you had an impression he had a family to go home to. “A drink?”

“I’ll explore for a bit,” you say warmly, smiling as he brings you in for a friendly hug. You peer at faces and over shoulders, taking shots off trays and flutes of champagne off tables to feel less stiff and out of place. You’re looking for Max.

But you catch somebody else’s eye, one who seems to beckon you over with a look. He’s laughing at something, decently tipsy, and—when you near him—he introduces himself as Charles. “Leclerc,” he adds, and suddenly everything clicks. The face you’ve finally matched to the name is handsome, chiseled and devilish and charming, with a warm smile that doesn’t match the dark in his eyes. He’s in the same kind of getup everyone is wearing—a tight black tee, blue jeans. But he makes it look insufferably attractive, unfortunately.

“You’re the winner,” you state, not lifting your tone to sound like a question. He is the winner. The champion of today’s race.

“Right I am.” He nods once, matter-of-factly. “You’re Red Bull’s princess, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” you say, blushing inwardly. Your face is warm and you feel flustered, but you play it cool, feigning a casual laugh. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks.” He takes a gulp from his drink, dark and potent looking. “Max mentioned you earlier.”

“Oh.” You’d completely forgotten you were looking for him. “Is he here?”

“Around. Hey, listen,” he says, turning to collect the makings of a shot, “I’m the winner, and I make the rules. Take a shot with me.”

Your eyes close in a laugh, nodding along. You’re already tipsy, anyway—what’s another shot? You take a wedge of lemon in between two fingers and a pinch of salt, smearing it along your hand as you grip a shot glass of something. You’ll know once you taste it, you suppose; no time for questions.

“You got the last lemon slice!” complains Charles across you, and you laugh, shrugging as if to say deal with it. Your glasses clink, and you throw back the liquid; it’s ten times stronger than you anticipated and for a moment you lose control over your motor skills, squeezing the lemon wedge a tad too strong so it dribbles down your chin, through your throat and the last of it trickles through your cleavage. You manage to get some, licking the salt off before the taste becomes nauseating.

Your grimace is ever so obvious, as is Charles’ inability to take his eyes off you. Fuck, he thinks. You’re exactly his type. Pretty, eyes twinkling and half-lidded with the alcohol. Your lips are bitten, caught between your lips—it’s a habit, he guesses from how puffy they are. He might have to kiss you now.

“Still need lemon?” You ask, leaning in. “I’ve got some on me.” It’s a joke but your tone suggests otherwise, eyes lingering on his parted lips for any sign of assent. Your breath smells of citrus and wildly expensive tequila. He could kiss you now. He would. He will. He has to.

You tip your head backwards, smiling and dancing lightly to the music, your hands wraped loose around his wrists, dragging him, coercing him closer. So he does, allows himself to give into it and smiles into the skin of your neck, licking over the remnants of lemon that remain. He kisses a lovebite onto the side of your throat, one dark enough that he knows—he just knows—at least one person will ask you about it tomorrow morning.

When he parts, smiling, he asks, “Wanna smoke?” He produces a cart and waves it in between you, taking a hit and blowing grassy smoke into the air. You nod, encouraging him to take another and blow the smoke into your parted lips. All the while, he notices, your hand is rubbing over the lovebite, the soft, sore skin there.

He thinks of what you might say. The flustered explaining, the hand coming up to cover it or the sponge dabbing concealer over it. He thinks of you lying. Oh, just a guy. No, a Ferrari driver. And you’re all his, if just for tonight. And he’d be right. You were somewhat his—just for that night. The day next, Max took you to breakfast, didn’t notice the blotch of concealer, and all settled into a messy pattern of history.

—

The race is about to begin, preparations in the garage reaching their stunning crescendo. “Good luck,” you say as a sendoff, pressing a kiss to Max’s lips. He smiles appreciatively, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You wonder absently what’s been going so wrong, but you suppose it’s a two-person job.

You watch him board the car, your dad coming up beside you. “I still can’t believe how lucky it is that you ended up with one of my drivers.”

“Dad,” you say, warningly.

“Just saying, honey.” He smiles. “Can you imagine anything else?”

—

“I am sure I cannot be up here.” Charles’ voice is amused, deep and echoing in the empty space of your dad’s vast office. It’s dimly-lit because he’s not here—yacht dinners have become the new venues for business deals, leaving big offices like these ones woefully empty. And yours for the taking, you’d told Charles over text when he asked what you were up to tonight.

You hum teasingly, turning. “You won today, so consider this your prize. Provided generously by a friend.” The term embeds itself into the atmosphere of the empty office and you clear your throat, turning your back to him again and walking to the window.

The awkward air between you had, for some time, dissipated, giving way to a series of texts and calls that, for the sake of clarity and concision, you don’t tell Max about. Plus, you’re not even dating Max, you tell yourself. It’s just a fling right now, no commitment, no crazy heavy labels. You met only, what, three races ago. And to be fair, you’re not even dating Charles—you’re just friends.

“It’s crazy to think this office can be folded up and shipped halfway across the world,” you say honestly, eyes zeroing in on the city. “I mean, all this.”

“It is just four walls,” he simplifies, nearing you, staring at the way your hair falls over your back. He’s scared to explore around and touch things—touch you—so he settles on nervous looking. “I don’t understand how this is a prize. I’m in an opposing team’s high-level donor’s office with his daughter.”

“It’s not just four walls,” you say when you turn, ignoring his second statement. “It’s a couch.” You lay both hands on the leather sofa, pointing to the two matching loveseats beside it. “It’s… a desk.” You walk over to it and prop yourself up against it, your feet tiptoeing with the height of the surface. Charles, amused, watches your long-drawn out rebuttal and takes a seat on the couch.

“It’s a lamp. A carpet. A display of Seb’s old race suit.” You point at each. “It’s a drawer.” You pull it open. “…Filled with Red Bull porn.” An assortment of hats and tees meet your eyes, all displaying the same emblem. You tug out a team polo, the same one Christian and Max and Daniil wear—and you whirl around, unfolding it in the air so Charles sees what you’re holding.

An idea enters your head. “Try it on,” you suggest, a teasing lilt in your voice. He shakes his head, laughing. Still insistent, you near him, leaning over where he sits and pressing the polo to his figure, aligning it to the best of your ability to his shoulder and chest so it looks like he’s wearing it. “Looks nice.”

He makes a noise of dismissal. “Never happening.”

“Can’t a girl dream?” You inch yourself forward so your faces are flush of each other’s. When his gaze switches to your lips, smiling and bitten, it no longer leaves. You think of how he’d look all donned up in one of these polos, these suits. The dark of the suit. He could use a break from all that red. You could give that to him.

“Okay,” he says, but it’s soft and distracted. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, craving for a form of your touch.

“We’d better go,” you respond, your voice decimated to a whisper. “Before my dad comes.”

“Come on, then.”

Your lips just barely ghost over his before you heave yourself back up, smiling teasingly. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

—

You watch the Monaco race like a hawk. Ben doesn’t ask why, but internally he rumbles with questions. Why are you so invested in this one race? He chalks it up to the prestige of Monaco as a whole, and settles for that. But still—you’re interested. You watch from the garage, almost with an unrelenting stare, unwavering. Surely you shouldn’t be worried, he thinks. Max has won before.

And Max wins again, raising the totem like it’s a crucifix. The camera focuses on your wide, proud smile and shows it to the world—there, it seems to say, there she is, the one Max goes home to! Max wins the Monaco Grand Prix—but what will become of the native hero?

You watch Max win with a proud smile, and accompanied by a nasty feeling that lines the pit of your stomach, you find yourself wishing somebody else had taken his place.

—

You never did like dabbling in racing. Your dad often encouraged you to try karting, driving, even something like PR or marketing—he’d fund it all, he promised—but you grew to almost hate the career that robbed your dad of so much time. Perhaps if you thought about it, there was one upside, and it’s sitting down across you to eat lunch.

“What brings you to the paddock?” Seb smiles. “Rare occurrence.”

“It’s part of my bid to get you back to Red Bull in 2023.” You beam back, observing his Aston Martin-green getup. “I’ve got signs and speakers loaded up in my car.”

“You always were advocating for my return.”

“You’re my favorite,” you joke. But it’s an honest quip. “My favorite Aston driver, and back then, my favorite Ferrari driver.”

It’s a statement you regret as soon as it escapes, because it gives Seb leeway to start intense interrogation. He’s always known. He’s always been observing, picking up quirks and details until he forms his own crude recreation of the big picture.

“Not Leclerc, then?”

You chew slowly, eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”

He says your name solemnly, and you pause. Sigh. “What?”

Sensing your irritation, he tries a different tactic. “How are you and Max?”

Seb’s ability to almost always see through you is unrivaled. He’d been one of your closest companions back when your dad would force you to attend races and hail Seb as one of the team’s greatest. Kind as he was, he was a stellar driver, which came with the fortunate gift (and unfortunate burden) of observing everything, and being right about almost all of his hypotheses.

It’s bullshit, and you know it. He doesn’t want to know about you and Max. He might as well could’ve asked how is the weather in Wales? It’s just that farfetched—a question so unlike what usually occupies your conversations with him.

He doesn’t want to know about Max. He wants to know about you—your feelings, your turmoil, your decisions. He wants to know what’s going on with you and Max’s rival-friend-then-rival-again-then-friend. “We’re okay.”

“All good?”

“Amazing, actually.” You smile, tight-lipped.

“I met with him last night.” Yeah, you heard, you say—a party with a few notable figures. “Yeah. Him and Charles.” Jesus, Seb always finds a way to get the topic right where he needs it to be. You prepare yourself for some serious advice-giving.

He inhales, exhales. “Charles asks about you. Are you two close at all?”

No, you tell him. We know each other and that’s all.

“Well”—he says, shrugging—“I just. I don’t want you to betray anyone, not even yourself.”

It’s despicable. All you need are two couches and you’re in free Formula One therapy. They should do this to the Ferrari fans, you think. “Do you hear yourself, Seb?” Your mouth is set into a straight line.

“I’m just saying that there’s a difference—there is always a difference—between what you think you want and what you really want. Now, I can’t tell you either. Neither can your dad, or Max, or anybody. It’s all in you. You’ll know you have what you want when it’s right there.” He jabs a gentle finger onto your open palm, laid on the table. “In your hands.”

“I have what I want,” you say.

“Do you feel it?”

Seb is met with silence.

—

“Dad?” You call, voice loud to try and capture his attention. Outside, the Monaco festivities carry on. “Simon’s just brought the car around. Are we still on for dinner, or—?” You freeze when you fully enter the office, seeing your dad on the couch pouring a bottle of Scotch. Your blood runs cold almost, and your stomach could’ve dropped right beside your sandals right then.

“Hi, honey. I was just having a drink with Mr. P6.”

Charles smiles charmingly from his seat. “Hi. You’re his daughter, yes?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, so you shut it and nod instead. “Good race,” you say dryly, hiding your disdain under a façade of politeness as you move closer to your dad. Then, in a lower tone to him only, will you be long?

“We were just finishing,” he says with a professional smile. “Was telling Charles here that luck just wasn’t on his side today.”

“Sure,” you say, clipped. “We should go if we want to make dinner. Max wants me to visit the afterparty later, so.” You make sure to look at Charles after you say it, so you don’t miss his sudden eyebrow raise and clenched jaw. He downs the Scotch and, with a smile as warm as it is fake, excuses himself for the evening.

“Well, you two should get acquainted. Who knows what his future in Formula One holds? Once that contract’s over, it’s a bidding war.” He claps Charles on the back. “One I might like to win, eh?”

Your dad makes a signal for you to shake his hand, which you do. Like always, the touches between you, however small and indetectible, are electric; you try your best not to look at him when his hand wraps securely around yours, giving it a brief shake. You feel he’s burned you. Everything burns. “We’ve met before,” you say with a polite smile.

“Lovely to see you,” he says bluntly, acting like you haven’t had him lick salt off your neck before.

“You too.” You reply. He’s departing now, collecting his phone and keys.

He turns and smiles. “Hope I meet you again soon.”

“Nice fella, isn’t he?” Your dad asks when it’s just the both of you.

“Yeah. Nice.”

—

The APM Monaco party is the only one you end up attending. Max drives you both there and gets valet to take care of his Ferrari, leading you both inside. It’s not long before you split into separate directions—you’re looking for a friend, and Max is looking for his team, who have showed up to get drunk, too. You heard Kelly was around, if that mattered. Lets leave @ 2, you suggest. Good? You both discussed it en route, and neither of you wanted to stay late. A thumbs up and heart emoji greets you back.

It’s the same text you stare at at 2:45, antsily waiting for Max at the basement parking. The lobby parking—the main entrance to the place—is swarming with people; influencers, residents, YouTubers, anyone and everyone trying to gain access and catch sight of the lucratively famous drivers.

Thumbs up. Heart. Received 1:08.

See you at parking? Sent 1:55.

Video FaceTime Call. Missed 2:02.

WHERE ARE YOU? Sent 2:15.

Voicemail, voicemail, and more voicemail. The exit swings open and you’re 100% expecting it to be Max, profusely apologizing for forgetting your mutually-set curfew. Instead you’re faced with, as your father called him, Mr. P6.

He is, of course, smiling. Charming as ever. “I heard from my assistant that you wouldn’t be showing up to any parties. Then I hear Max wanted you to come and cheer for him,” says Charles, his usually jubilant voice low and only a little teasing. His accent is stronger here. It’s less of the English-French-Something he usually uses when speaking English and thick, more natural. “You are one good girlfriend.”

You look up from your phone and the unanswered texts—Maxie where are u? Are u bringing the car? Answer me—and narrow your eyes, mouth coming up into a frown. “What is your problem?”

“Problem?” He laughs. “I don’t have any.” He’s leaning against his car, content to watch you. Another car passes by without pausing to pick you up, leaving through the basement exit instantly. Not Max.

“Okay, then get back inside. You have a whole crowd of fans to appease.”

“I prefer it here.” He looks around the stale garage. “So peaceful.”

“It smells like gas and sweat,” you shoot back with a grimace.

He presses. “You should be happier. Your boyfriend got first place at a prestigious race.” For a moment, you pulse with empathy—you recall the beaten down look on his face when his car and his team failed him again and again and again. But you blink and swallow it.

“Yeah,” you say pointedly. “He always wins. Can you imagine if he got sixth place?”

A flash of something—something hurt, something shocked—surges in his green eyes. But like you, he blinks and it’s gone, replaced with a smile.

“Can you imagine if he didn’t go home at night?” He teases coolly.

“Right, right,” you say, letting him win that round. “And what’s all of Twitter saying about how all your flings look ‘exactly like Max’s girlfriend’?” You raise two delicate air quotes.

He gaze hardens, then flits down to your phone, open to the unanswered exchange. You quickly shut it off but it’s incentive enough for a continued conversation. “He’s okay?”

“Getting the car.” And like divine timing, a text from one of Max’s strategists dings in your inbox—a picture of your boyfriend, passed out on the floor of someone’s (you presume his) car. Should be fine by morning we’re about 5 min from his flat. But you don’t have a key to that flat, you realize, because Max suggested you both stay at a hotel for some “much needed relaxation” (you are anything, anything but).

Can you leave the key? You type, then stare. Max’s girlfriend for almost four years and you have no key. To his home. Embarrassed, you try rephrasing the text but nothing works. You’ll just sleep at the hotel, you think.

You delete the text and press a hand over your face. Fuck’s sake. You’re going to have to ring your driver—thus alerting your dad—at three in the morning for a car because your boyfriend is piss drunk.

“I’ll bring you home.” You look up, almost forgetting Charles was there. He pats the front of his car. “Hotel or Max’s flat?”

“Hot—hotel,” you say, breath catching from stress and embarrassment. “Hotel. Sorry.” You’re embarrassed. You’d gotten that dig on him for being P6 less than two minutes ago, but now you’re climbing into his car, meek and with small, unassuming movements. You almost want to apologize, but that might worsen the awkwardness of it, so you purse your lips and stay relatively quiet.

He doesn’t gloat, like you expect him to, like you maybe would if you were in his position. He does, however, sport a insufferably self-satisfied smirk, like he knows he won tonight somehow even if he didn’t even snag fifth. You grumble quietly from the leather passenger seat, opting to admire the lit-up nightlife of Monaco, alive as ever even as the night wears on.

“Is Max home safe?” He asks, stifling an even bigger smile.

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” You scroll through your many notifications, and find no text from your drunk boyfriend. You look up, finding you’ve turned away from the city centre and into the darker, less populated area. “Where are we?”

“A shortcut.” He revs faster.

“Yeah. Okay. Like, where, specifically?” Your eyes analyze your unfamiliar surroundings. You’re not familiar with Monte Carlo at all to begin with, so the lack of buildings is setting off every internal alarm bell.

“Well,” he chuckles, sensing your apprehension, “it’s a shortcut. Cuts six minutes out of the drive to your hotel.”

“I thought everything was close together here,” you quip, relaxing a little.

“Not to a native. I know places.”

“Sure.” Your voice wavers. “Charles, I’m going to jump out of the car window if you’re shitting me, I sw—”

Charles throws his head back to laugh, like he can’t even believe you just suggested that. As if deep in thought, he sticks his tongue into his cheek and laughs a little, with exasperation almost. This girl, he seems to think. You stare, transfixed with all the little flexes his face makes.

You break contact when his eyes flicker to your figure, looking at the console first then the window, as if caught stealing a cookie from the jar. “Sue me for being concerned,” you add, for an extra layer of defense.

“You are like your dad.”

Your face warps into one of disdain. “Never say that to me again.”

“Just in the way that”—he waves his hand around to get his point across, laughing as he focuses on the road ahead—“you two are always serious, always working. I mean, you never attended races, even before.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I like to think you and I know more about each other than we let on.”

He’s right, but you won’t say it. You two have a connection so unlike what two acquaintances, friends, share. It’s undeniable and thick and impossible to uproot, an easy and intense dynamic at the same time. You know so much about him. You know how to make him laugh, hurt his feelings, get his eyes to flutter all pretty. But he knows those things about you, too.

“You only attend races for Max, yes?” He adds.

The utterance of Max’s name gives you mild whiplash—it reminds you you’re on the way to your hotel, to check if your boyfriend’s okay, and not on some drunken joyride with his friend-rival. You clear your throat and try to segue out of the topic. “I just—I take work seriously. I take everything seriously.”

“You shouldn’t.” His eyes flit over to you again, up and down, the low cut of your dress, the way your crossed arms are effortlessly pushing your tits togeth—

“You should loosen up,” he says with a cough, looking back up.

“Thanks for the tip, Leclerc.” You smile phonily, eyes still out the window. “I’ll be sure to put it to good use.”

“Okay.” He says lowly. Then, as if to set a challenge—“Put it to good use now.”

“Now?” How? You almost add, parting your lips to let the question slip past. You stop yourself before you can, though, letting your still hazy mind run through your own fabricated answers. How do I loosen up? Then, to yourself again, for you?

It’s dark outside, and even windier when you roll down the window of his car. He drives fast, steadily but scarily fast—with the kind of control he’s built over a career around a car. You peek out, facing the dark hilly terrain, spotting the city lights in the far distance. Your hair flies over your face when you turn, finding more empty road. Everyone’s in the city. In the thick of the partying.

You dip out of the window more, letting yourself feel the breeze—it whips at your face, cold and smelling of the coast. In the car, you maneuver your legs to keep yourself upright properly, and more of your leg shows as a result, the material riding up on your thighs.

Charles maintains composure, his pace slowing so your hair brushes against your face more gently. Still, a soft, high-pitched yelp of excitement and nerves escapes your bitten lips. He wishes he could watch—he wants nothing more—but he has to focus on the road. He does allow himself fleeting, hot glances at you—your legs, your lithe hands on the window’s base keeping yourself upright, the way your dress hugs your waist. He might die.

“Careful,” he says, raising his voice firmly. He is genuinely concerned for you when he spots one of your hands lifting to rake the hem of your already short dress further down. It’s cold, you’re thinking, but you let your flimsy grip tell him the same story.

Still focusing on his next turn, he drives one-handed, reaching his other one over to help you out. Out of his immediate sight, you shut your eyes and allow yourself to shiver from the feeling of his hand, warm and calloused and big, on your knee, inching higher and higher upward and eventually wrapping loosely around your leg just above your knee, holding you steady.

A shaky breath leaves you, and you’ll say it was because of the wind, but you’ll know you’re wrong. Your hand moves down, to meet his, to let your fingertips skate over the expanse of his hand until your fingers are wound tightly around his. It’s dark. It’s intimate. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Your mind is buzzing, red hot and clouded, when you begin to lead him upward, higher, until your interlocked hands are just under the hem of your dress, dangerously close to where you need him most. An invitation.

But when you crack your eyes open again you see you’re near the city, abandoning the safety and darkness of the shortcut, and the illusion is shattered.

“Get back in,” you hear, and when you feel the tension of his hand pulling yours, you let him tug you back inside. Your hair settles by your face, and you almost reach up to comb it neat before realizing your hand’s still caught in his. Slowly, your gaze meets his—his eyes bore into you, dark as the night outside. They don’t flicker when you hastily pull your hand from his grip, sighing shakily.

The next turn brings you back into the city, structures gaining a semblance of familiarity. The window, still open, is chilly against you, your cheeks cold with it, your shoulders inflicted by a mild wash of goosebumps. “Have fun?”

You clear your throat. “Not much,” you lie through your teeth, chewing on your lip.

“We are near the hotel.” The hotel, the party, the grand prix, Max. Reminders of what you’re supposed to be paying attention to ripple through your head as the car snakes through the city. It’s one of his other cars, so it’s not distinct enough that people are peeking inside; still, he rolls up the window for your sake.

He drops you off at the basement parking, not at the lobby. Privacy reasons, he says. He’s sick of parking outside. You bite back a quip about his nasty parking and stay still, heart beating quick.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “For driving me.”

“You’re welcome.” A hand rests on your thigh and you don't feel the resolve to jerk it, instead relishing in its warmth there. “Get there safe.”

“Safe? It’s one elevator ride,” you say tersely, rolling your eyes. He squeezes, his touch feather light, and your breath hitches. You need—

“I hope Max is okay.”

You blink and then move your thigh so his hand slides off; he doesn’t put up a fight, and you don’t encourage him to. “So do I.” It’s right as you’re closing the door when Charles says see you? You meet his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, and shut the door fully.

—

“Yeah,” you say after a period of silence. “I feel it.”

Across you, hair raked back by a headband, Seb maintains lack of conviction. You’re not telling him the truth.

“How’s it feel then?”

“Just… good. Like thrilling.” Like danger, in a good way, peaceful and calm and patient and not complicated. You know what you want. You want the ring-clad hand wound around yours, on your thigh, stubble against your jaw. You want that. You know you want that.

But do you have it?

—

Max’s agenda in Barcelona starts on the eve of quali day. He arrives at your hotel and is greeted with music—it flows from the bathroom, where, upon his inspection, he finds you, swiping a dark line of eyeliner on in the mirror. You meet his eyes briefly, but you say nothing before continuing, humming softly to the Drake song that plays from your phone. He can tell instantly: you’re pissed.

“I’m leaving,” is all you say, dismissive and standoffish. You provide no follow-up.

Still, he tries to apologize. “The meeting ran late.” Silence. “Your dad discussed budgetary stuff.” Silence. “I’m optimistic for pole tomorrow.” And again, silence. “Come on, babe. I’m sorry. Really.”

“Okay.” You pause. “What was Kelly doing there?”

His mouth opens and then closes. “Wh—”

“Ben told me.” You wave a wand of mascara around.

“She was listening.”

“What’s her business?”

“Listening,” he emphasizes.

“Bullshit.” You’re on—he guesses—eyeshadow now. “Every time the topic gets to her, you get all skittish. As fuck. You think I don’t notice?”

“Babe,” he says, defensive, “it’s only because I couldn’t even stomach the idea of being with someone else.” And it’s cheesy and corny, but it must work, because your eyes flicker with something. Love, perhaps—clarity. Realization that you’re being irrational (are you?)

“I think I’m just,” you croak. “Just. Missing you. We never spend time together anymore—and after the stunt you pulled in Monte Carlo—” You press two delicate fingers on either side of your nosebridge to emulate your disappointment. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? You were in someone’s car, blacked out. And no apology. Nothing. Just invited me to lunch the next day with your dad.” A topic you hate and a man you detest spending time with.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” He comes in to hug you from behind and thanks the gods that you let him, your hands encircling his wrists. “I was being stupid. Won’t happen again.”

You just nod along, still annoyed but enough that it’s beginning to melt off. Max is sated. But even then, he should’ve known that the flicker of something in your eyes wasn’t love or clarity, the flicker he catches again in the mirror when he presses a kiss to your cheek.

It’s neither. It’s guilt.

—

Quali is relatively uneventful—Max gets pole, and Charles gets something something. A good place, front row you think, but you fail to remember. Ben told you the standings, but you weren’t focused; you’ve been spacey, distracted, mind irreversibly stuck on something else during the session. Max can tell, and offers to take you out to dinner, but you decline so he leaves you by yourself nursing a Tylenol. The night is almost over, and you’re collecting your car keys and slinging your bag over your shoulder—but the evening is punctuated by a familiar English accent.

“Come on,” goads Lando, voice petulant and whiny as he tugs on your wrists. “Max said he’d be busy so he needs a proxy. He sucks at the game, anyway, you’re not filling big shoes or anything.”

The tradition (you use the term loosely) of drivers’ poker, started by Lando’s desire to master the game, is apparently so important it demands your attendance. You’ve had your run-ins with poker before, so you feel assured, but none with a volatile group of competitive guys like this one, so it’s on the fence.

“Where?” You suppose, though, that your mind could use a little clearing. A game, a win of sorts.

“My hotel room. I’ve just”—he types rapidly on his phone and presents your text exchange with him—“sent you the number.”

“Who’s playing?” You walk to your car and he follows, still insistent.

“The yoozsh,” he says, shortening usual the way a prepubescent boy might. “Alex, me, Charles, Carlos, Lance. We play a good game. The stakes can get pretty high. And I’ve won a couple times, so beware.”

You laugh a little, raising your brows skeptically. “Sure.”

“I’m dead serious, mate.” He says solemnly as he waves goodbye, standing idly and watching you start your car through the half-rolled window. “See ya. I am going to kick your ass.”

—

“Is this the part where you kick my ass?” You laugh, everyone peering at Lando’s shit hand that he’s presented to the table. “Out!” The game’s since been decimated to just you, Charles, a pool of money, and a thick atmosphere of slow, deliberate silence.

The rest of the players watch you and Charles, conveniently seated across each other, entranced by the easy back and forth that swings between the both of you. You peer down at your cards, then half-lidded, back up at him. His eyes bore into you, challenging, amused.

Tense, you hear faintly. Lando’s unsolicited commentary. In between you both is a scattered pile of creased bills of varying currencies, chips, a condom thrown in by Lance, and a few spare coins. It’s a huge pool despite how random it is, and even if it doesn’t cost much to anybody in the room considering how much you all earn, the prestige of calling yourself a winner still takes precedence.

Underneath the table, your foot brushes against his, the tip of your heel to the side of his sneaker. You poke your tongue into your cheek to conceal a smile, refusing to meet his eyes again.

“You seem nervous,” he says, trying his best to elicit a reaction out of you.

“Could say the same to you,” you quip, tracing the hem of his jeans with your foot. His breath hitches and you take it as a win, smiling to yourself.

“I’ve had a four game winning streak.” He fans his cards out. “Nothing to lose.”

“Oh?” Your legs continue to intertwine out of sight of everybody else, the friction of your bare calf to the denim of his jeans a warm addition to your already intense match. “Say bye to five.” Lando deals the final cards and the tension hangs heavy, palpable in the air as you both calculate your next moves. Carlos eyes the two of you, sensing something else is at stake here. The air is just too heavy.

“We’ll see,” he whistles, revealing his cards. The group seems to hold one collective, bated breath, waiting for you to take your turn. You do so with a self-satisfied smile, your foot still intertwined with his calf as you begin laying your cards down on the table. You slowly reveal a stunning winning hand, and Lando is the first to get up and cheer loudly.

Charles shrugs and hands you your victory with a handshake, pushing the pool of winnings in your direction. “Congratulations.”

“When you’re with a winner,” you tease lowly, just in Charles’ earshot, “you are a winner.”

He snorts. “Whatever you say.”

You both miss Carlos and Alex exchanging a glance first with you and Charles, smiling teasingly at each other—and the way his eyes go from yours, to your lips, and back to your eyes—then with each other, eyes half-wide and half-puzzled.

—

The race is intense, and Max suffers damage in the middle of it. It’s a rare occasion, but it costs him place after place until he’s vying not for P1, but P4. He doesn’t win today. You watch Charles cross the checkered flag yourself, watch the footage of him throwing his fists up in the air.

You’re there to watch the Red Bull engineers grumble, mutter dissent, wish themselves luck for the next weekend. You’re there when your dad says Charles is the team’s biggest liability. Imagine if we had him, he’d said. You imagine Charles in a Red Bull suit, but the image is cut short by your boyfriend’s arrival to the garage.

The video feedback on your father’s TV, of Charles spraying champagne all over everywhere, his green eyes meeting the camera with a brilliant charm, is abruptly cut off and you turn to find Max entering. His demeanor is stormy.

“P6,” you say immediately, sensing the pending grumbling. “Not so ba—”

“It’s a shitshow,” he retorts, disgruntled. But he’s at the top of the standings, leagues above the rest; he has nothing to worry about. Driving-wise, at least. “Fucking shitshow.”

“Max,” you comfort. “You did well. The damage was out of your control.”

But he’s pissed, and in the thick of his emotion, he pays your sentiments no mind. To him. it’s all the same regurgitated bullshit. Eventually, though he calms down, finds you in the motorhome and wraps you in a loose hug. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile. “Love you, too.”

He leaves early for a meeting—so many meetings, these days—and promises to meet you for dinner, requesting you text him. You watch him leave, slip into his car and drive off, and then call yourself a car to the hotel. You figure it’s high time you spend quality time with Max, what with all the instances you’ve been fighting or ignoring each other.

You leave at six, taking the elevator to the basement to get to your own car, parked there. You’re optimistic. A dinner. A date. Finally, some time with him. This is what you want. The coil in your belly, though, and the congratulatory text left unsent, tell you a different story. It’s one you choose to ignore.

The elevator has a bar slotted across the back wall that you lean on, typing updates to Ben and Max. The drive shouldn’t be long, you hope. You can’t navigate the new city fast enough. The door dings open and you make a move to exit, but you’re stopped by a figure across you.

Charles, in his Armani tee, arms crossed and eyes flashing with recognition when the doors reveal you. He’s still fussed up from the race, probably forced to stick around for promo pictures and interviews. His hair’s damp still. You notice the imprint of his balaclava is only just starting to soften and fade.

Your words tangle in your throat. “Congratulations,” is all you can muster when you see him. You don’t inch close. He, too, remains stagnant, standing perfectly still. Not even a smile. Like the tension between you forms a barrier as physical as it is emotional. “You drove great.” Your hand tightens around your phone, where you’ve just texted Max that you’re leaving the hotel.

“We should really stop meeting in parking garages.” He says lowly, with a small smile.

You step forward twice. “I was just leaving anyw—”

“Wait.” For a second, his voice breaks and he sounds—desperate, almost. “Remember Monaco? Last week. You told me you liked winners.” Somehow you find yourself allowing him to near you, stepping backwards for every step he takes closer, even if you realize you’re hogging the elevator, and that people might be waiting to arrive to this floor. “You told me… imagine if he got sixth.”

He steps into the elevator with you, and the doors automatically close behind him; it remains still, but he presses the stop button for good measure. He’s right in front of you, tired eyes and stubble and tall, broad, big. He sees right through you. He knows you. Your buttons, your quirks, everything.

“It was a joke,” you say, attempting to establish composure as you pocket your phone. You fail. You always fail. It’s him. Still, you try, hard enough that he thinks you don’t want him to come even closer, to cage you against the back wall of the tiny basement elevator. “I apologized.”

“Nevermind that.” A hand on the bar of the elevator, just by your waist. His grip is tight. He needs to channel all this want somewhere. “What do winners get?”

“Charles.” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Just this once,” he says. He needs it so bad. You’re so pretty today, eyes looking right up at him, lips bitten the way they always are. He’s taller, he’s bigger, he’s got the upper hand physically—what, with the way you’re crowded up against the wall, nearly having to go on your tiptoes if you want to maintain distance. Your eyes flutter. Just this once. Four years. Just this once. Break a rule. But this isn’t a rule, you remind yourself woefully—it’s all the rules. “I care for you, you know.”

Your silence grants elaboration.

“You’re too serious. But everyone around you is, too.” Closer. “Max, your dad, your coworkers. You just need someone who can calm you down. Help you get peace of mind. No complications, you know.” Closer, even closer. “Someone who’s patient. Calm.”

You stare up at him, your hands unmoving until they’re slowly coming up to press against his abdomen, the hard surface there. You could push him away. You should, in fact, push and forget and walk away and apologize for the delay. But they remain planted there, eyes still meeting his. They’re so green, green and staring right into you, his parted lips just a little chapped, his stubble uneven and getting longer. You want to feel it rubbing your chin raw. Your inner thighs.

He steps closer and now you’re on your tiptoes, legs spreading a little to accommodate him. His hands are still on the bar. Yours, on his abdomen. You miss the way he squeezes the bar, so strong and with so, so much pent up feelings you’d think he bent it out of shape. He wants so badly for you to be his. And more than that—if that were even possible—for him to be yours.

Lightly, you bunch up the material of his tee, cotton wound in-between your fingers. Push him, you tell yourself. Push him away. Let go. You’ve had your resolve tested before. But you know better. You know that it’s never come to this. Again, he steps forward, and this time a hand leaves the bar and rests, gentle as it is firm, on your waist, just below it—his thumb presses against your hip. Your breath hitches.

Push him.

He comes closer and you’re fully pressed against the wall, half-seated on the bar, half held up by him—your skirt’s ridden up, legs spread and dangling on either side of his figure. Silence. Your breathing. Your eyes, big and anticipatory, staring into his, dark and desperate.

Push him.

“It can be—”

You adjust your grip around his tee, ready to loosen it and let go and—and for a second you feel the solid plane of his abs—

“—my prize.”

Push him. You tighten your grip, and pull him in to slot your mouths together.

His lips are warm, and soft, and he has another hand on your jaw now, but it’s so big it’s at your neck too. You part your lips to let his tongue slip in, and the kiss is nothing if not desperate. He’s wanted this for so long, to feel you like this, have your lips pressed against his. And you’d be dishonest if you said you disagreed. You don’t want to part for air. You feel like this could satiate you enough, just the movement of his lips, the scent of his cologne.

He needs to be closer to you—so he places two hands on your waist and naturally, it lets your legs wrap around him. You can feel how hard he is, and the reminder is dizzying. He wants you. But there is no upper hand here. If he lets his hands wander, he’d feel the damp of your panties and realize you’re just as bad as he is.

But for now it’s a kiss, messy and hot—passionate and just one big breath of finally. Your hands go from his abdomen to his face, cupping him on either side. It’s romantic, fuck—but you’ve craved this for so long, you cherish every second. His stubble rubs your chin raw. You trace patterns on his face, find indents of moles with your eyes closed. The kisses are searing.

Even if you both want it, and even if this creaky elevator grants you a semblance of the privacy, you both know this won’t be leading to sex. Just this—just this. It’s all he’s ever wanted. Your hands on his jaw, his shoulders, the nape of his neck. His, on your waist, your throat, your hips. Your gasps mingling with his.

The kiss takes and takes and takes, and it’s long, but you take and give four years’ worth of want and tension and frustration. You part, forehead pressed against his, and the absence leaves you empty—you inch forward and kiss him again, let it consume you, before you part again.

His eyes won’t stop staring. In the way they always look at you. With want. With something. A glint.

“First and last,” you say, lifted against the wall of the elevator, your hands around his face. Your thumbs roam over his face. He sets you down, breath heavy, and still his hands are on your waist and yours on his face. It was your cue to leave. But you can’t. Not yet.

Your thumbs go over his eyebrows, his eyelashes so his eyes flutter; the mark of his balaclava, the indent there; his nose, his cheeks, wiping the sweat there, then lower, finally to his lips. One thumb rests softly in the centre. Just seconds ago those lips had been pressed to yours, bringing a type of clarity you never knew existed. Everything, for just those moments, made perfect sense.

“You lie.” He repeats.

You tiptoe to kiss him again and he can’t seem to get enough, his eyebrows furrowed—so much he almost looks angry, anguished—when you kiss. “First and last,” you say breathlessly when you pull away.

He shakes his head. “You’re going to come right back to me,” he says, with so much finality and conviction it’s almost a fact. “You always will, you always do.” His eyes are shut even when you don’t kiss, relishing in your proximity.

And when you part, he watches you leave, with something between desperation and anguish. You don’t realize, he thinks, just how deep he is in his attraction. His connection to you. It consumes him, burns him alive, and it’s leaving him for someone else.

You ring the elevator open again, wiping your lips. He lets it close, leaning against the wall himself. And you both realize, with a heavy breath as you climb into your car and he disembarks the elevator: there is no way either of you will resist it anymore. That was the first, yes. But to say it was the last would be stark, stark lying.

—

You’re still licking syrup off the corner of your lip when you walk out of the hotel breakfast buffet, letting Max explain the fundamentals of a race to you. He’d apologized earlier, for not meeting you at the Monza afterparty last night—he’d gotten caught in something or other. But he’s kind, and inserts a few jokes here and there to get a laugh out of you, your eyes crinkling under the heavy lens of your sunglasses, sandals clicking against the outdoor garden cement floor.

He’s talking, and then trails off. Oh, he says, this is a mate of mine. You look up to make small talk and smile politely, but your face falls faster than you can pick it up. Tall and in sunglasses, too, is Charles Leclerc. You thought they were colleagues, not friends—this is chaos. You reach out to shake his hand, your free hand coming up to press against the splotch of concealer. Just in case.

The handshake is stiff and it reminds you of tequila and lemon, salt and teeth and kitten licks down your throat and right to the crest of your cleavage. But you blink and shake once, up and down. Firm.

“Nice to meet you.” He says, smiling. Then, to Max: “Girlfriend?”

“Hope so,” jokes Max, eyeing you. You laugh.

Charles smiles to himself, smug. He eyes you through his sunglasses with something caught in longing and want. “I hope so, too.”

—

Dinner is short and, despite your best efforts to make it a good one, boring. The food is good and sufficiently expensive, the way all European restaurants are. But nothing flows, ebbs. You talk of the same things: Red Bull, Red Bull, and if you have time, Red Bull. You ask about work, but it’s nothing you haven’t already heard. Max doesn’t ask about work, so the conversation descends into a limbo of silence and sips of rosé. “I’m pretty sure the next race is going to be great.”

“Charles drove great today,” says Max. “Didn’t he?”

You pause, then nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean, objectively so.”

“I was going to congratulate him… lost him on the paddock though.” He sips, drawing it out. “You seen him?”

“No,” you say, pithy. “Haven’t.”

“Okay.” He waves his hand upward to signal the bill. “I’ll drop you off and head out for the night. Helmut stuff.”

You’re torn between feeling suspicious and recalling the events of the elevator, so you nod tersely instead and make the necessary small talk from the table to the car. His hand on your waist, the same place Charles’ was just hours ago. It sends you into a cloudy mental spiral. Just thinking about it—about the way he’d gasped your name in between kisses, like he’d die if you didn’t kiss him again.

“I’m sorry,” Max says when he pulls up at the hotel entrance. “For all the work stuff. And for inviting you to lunch with my dad.” A weak laugh escapes you and you find his hand to squeeze it. It’s okay, you convey, and hope it’s enough that he lets the topic quell for now.

Your silence is permissive, so he continues. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Leans over and presses a sure kiss to your cheek. “As soon as I can.”

You nod and climb out, praying he didn’t see you shudder. The trek to the elevator, eyes skittish and searching for a sign of Charles, is tiring, and you find reprieve only when you’re pushing the door to the penthouse suite open, toeing your sandals off and dropping your bag just by the entryway. You freeze when you hear a glass clink from the living area. You’d gotten this suite for you and Max, and definitely nobody else.

Brandishing a bunch of keys in-between your fingers, you tiptoe into the area and find, to your confusion and shock, your dad. He’s seated on the couch toying with a glass of whiskey, eyes lighting up when he sees you, even if you look like a psycho with claws.

“Hi, honey.”

“Dad.” You drop your keys on the coffee table as you near him, and exchange a kiss and hug. “Wh—did you get a key from…?”

“Ben.” He smiles. “I thought I would surprise you.”

“Yeah, you more scared me.” You quip, laughing. Then you recall a detail and follow-up on it. “Max—um, he said you had a meeting?”

“Meeting? None scheduled tonight,” he says, frowning and opening his Calendar app. Nothing.

A dry quiet creeps up into the room and settles.

You pour yourself a glass and seat yourself beside him, drinking. You share a conversation for the duration of two glasses and then he’s leaving. The kiss he stamps on your forehead, you notice, is more meaningful, conveys a deeper message, lasts longer. He knows what you know now.

The usual sleepiness that comes with alcohol doesn’t arrive and you fall into an uneasy sleep; it doesn’t help that Max calls in past two, saying he’s crashing at the hotel room he bought for his dad instead of your hotel. You listen to the slurred voicemail, eyes shut and nose buried in the pillow. Eventually you lull yourself to sleep, awaiting the promise of morning and clarity.

—

Morning brings a day off. A break. But your mind does not cease to be cloudy, instead becoming even more muddled with questions and pivots and forks in the road. It helps, you suppose, that Max isn’t home. It might’ve worsened everything. You wrestle your way through a glass of water and a cup of tea, try out yoga, and even attempt going back to sleep. But it’s no use; you’re antsy.

So instead of suppressing the thoughts, you theorize, it’s better to lean into them. Succumb to them, the tempt and guilt of them. It might help you navigate the confusion of everything. So you do—you think of your years-long history with Charles, your relationship with Max. The hiding, the suppression, the pretending. Fleeting touches.

You think of how well Charles knows you, inside and out, of how good he kissed you even if he hadn’t ever kissed you before. His hands, the way he said your name, the hitch in his breath when your hands dared to venture just a little lower. The want, the pure want—the want so unadulterated even one kiss was enough. Images of close calls fill your head. All the times you were high, giggly and leaning into him, on the edge of flirty in some dark corner of a club. Your connection has always been, and will always be, completely and absolutely undeniable. No matter how hard you try.

Guilt fills you at the same time. And with the guilt—confusion. Where is Max? He wasn’t at a meeting last night, and you suspect you know exactly where he is. Who he’s with. Can you really be angry, though? Is it a feedback loop of the same thing, the same morally grey actions? Is this all your relationship has been reduced to? Questions, questions, and more questions flood the corners of your head.

Thoughts are put to a standstill when the door shakes with two knocks.

You rake your hair back and climb out of bed, into the main room, still in your lace pajamas. It might be the complimentary hotel breakfast or Max arriving, you guess. Maybe your dad—he’s apparently in the business of keying himself into your hotel rooms.

So you don’t bother looking through the peephole, undoing the latch with haste and dexterity before you’re hauling the heavy door open and staring breathlessly at the other side.

—

Abu Dhabi greets Max and you with fanfare, with a plethora of paddock paparazzi and even a few gossip rags asking questions. Some journalists drop a check-in, cameras zeroing in on your intertwined hands and your shared smiles. She’s the World Champ’s! seems to be the pervasive headline lately, and your pictures from today will no doubt exacerbate it.

He squeezes your hand when you finally gain semi-privacy, entering the motorhome. Your dad sees you, sees Max, offers a wave that you both return. Your eyes go from wide and smiling to a little blank and dismissive, a change minute but noticeable. “You okay?” He calls after you when you enter his room.

You drop your Kelly—the bag—on the seat by the door and gather your hair to rest on one side. “Fine. You nervous?”

“The planned strategy was horseshit.” Max is right and for the sake of your dad, it worries you.

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’ll talk to Dad for a bit. You’ll be okay alone?” You’re getting up already.

“Wait—” He pauses when you’re kissing his cheek as a goodbye. “I thought we were getting lunch.”

“Oh.” You pause to think. “We can get dinner, then.”

“No,” he says. “I’m going to be with Jos.”

“Drinks.” You leave no room for argument and leave with the door shutting softly behind you.

He stares at the just-closed door, your bag slung over the chair, the way you keep pressing against a certain spot on your neck. You are hiding something—Max just can’t put his finger on it.

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader

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colectingstrz · 9 months

Text

THIS ONE IS FOR U

Soo's smol notey:📝: I saw this pic on Pinterest and I was immediately inspired to write a Jake related fic with some correlation to basketball ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ + plussss Jake is soo so the type to yell this is for you and miss 😭 hence the title 💀

“Unknowingly, when you call my name Heartbreakingly, my heart is pounding”

After a messy breakup things have been awkward especially as your the teams manger and have to interact with Jake on a daily basis or in which Jake is determined to win you over and get you back even embarrassing himself in the process

TO SAY THINGS ARE AWKWARD IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. You and Jake’s breakup was as messy as it could be. Jake had cheated on you the whole thing drove you mad not only did you drag the girl by her hair you also dragged Jake and attempted to drown him in the pool in front of everyone. If it weren’t for your friends and his getting involved you would have gone to jail for murder that day.

Though time has gone past and you are no longer upset and have accepted reality, you are still slightly embarrassed about how you acted at the time as well as the status of your and Jake's relationship, especially as you are his basketball team’s manager. You pretend it's nothing, but you're bothered and find it difficult to be comfortable around him.

"So... do you have a prom date yet?" Jake inquires, gazing your way as he dribbles the ball. "Why should that worry you? It's none of your business who I'm with," he groans, "it's my business you're my ex," you smile " key word here is ex..my life should not concern you now, stop asking stupid questions and start shooting some hoops," you say one final time before leaving and heading to the back to collect additional basketballs, which Heeseung had requested earlier.

While looking for which set to pick you feel a presence behind you. So you turn around to be face to face with the last man you wanted to see. Go away Jake seriously “ dont make me report you for stalking ”Jake laughed holding his chest “ ahh im so hurt y/n” you roll your eyes turning back but Jake held your shoulder forcing you to turn to him “ who are you going with tho?” Why does he want to know so bad.. it’s weird “ since your begging for an answer I’ll let you know..honesty I have no idea yet I haven’t decided “ he hummed as a response but you could tell he was thinking

He had that I’m thinking of something stupid jake face on right now “ go on.. just say it I know you want to..” his face lit up before he took a deep breath “ well I have no one to go with and you seem to not have anyone to go with..soooo you and me prom! what do you think ?” Is he on drugs ? Or has he just genuinely lost the plot you blink your eyes aggressively perplexed as to what you were hearing.

“ what do I think? Why would I got to prom with my ex who cheated on me ? Do you seriously want to know what I think-because I have a bone to pick with you Jake don’t even get me started" you felt yourself getting worked up as you resurfaced locked memories you never wanted to remember “ i already told you I even showed you how sorry i was.. I even tried explained to you what actually happened but you would not listen! You know I would never hurt you” here he goes again with the lies

“ I don’t want to hear it.. I do not want to have this conversation with you.. I’m not going to be your prom date go ask some other girl” you shove past him and storm out of the hall forgetting the little side quest heeseung had set you on. A deep sigh was let out as you rested on a the wall of the hallway why can’t you just leave me alone Jake

JAKE’S 2ND ATTEMPT. The next day was simply no better jake was really pushing your buttons “ the answer is 45 btw” he whispered to you. At this point he had basically given you the answers to half of the paper he might as well have just sat the test for you instead. I don’t need your help leave me aloneeee “ jake piss off I don’t need you I can do this myself” you whispered back basically spitting out your words at him so he would get the point and leave you alone. He sighed, turning away from you , relieved to have some peace and quiet you attempt the to tackle the other half of the paper and realise you had no idea what any of the questions were or how to answer them.

You sighed, knowing you needed Jake's assistance. Kill me now pls You look to your side to already see Jake staring at you with his head resting on his Palm “ it seems you need me love ” you roll your eyes “ call me love again and I’ll drown you in the pool for real this time just give me the answers ” your response causes Jake to laugh slightly as he turns his paper in your direction so you can copy the rest.

" you owe me for basically giving you a free A " you sigh " you never asked anything back when we were together tho.." Jake flicked your forehead causing you to flinch in agony. What the hell jake " we’ll likeeee you said earlier, you're my ex, so this kind gesture comes at a cost, my love," he should stop calling me that. "So, what exactly do you want?" Jake grins “Be my prom date." You step back "Oh my Jake, you've turned into a comedian haven't you? “ You were laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach because it was starting to hurt. "I'm not going to be your prom date" get somebody else to do it You pat him on the back with a fake smile before walking away, or rather sprinting away, because you could see him following you again in the corner of your eye.

JAKE’S 3RD ATTEMPT. if it was not bad enough he tormented you at school he had the audacity to show up at your house and disturb you in the comfort of your own home. Your sitting down chilling while doing some sketches, when you hear a bang on your window, what the hell? You are on your knees, peering out, to get a peek only to find Jake waving down at you, holding a flower he had snatched from your mother's treasured garden. The more Jake kept going the more it gave you any tiny hint of hope..you were even willing to look past what he had done to you almost wanting to give in. Why can’t you just stay out of my life Jake stop making me feel things

Jake, as usual, got his way, and you ended up letting him in through your window and now sit on opposing sides of the bed. "you know... you could have just knocked and my sister would have opened the door for you... she's like the only one who likes you in this household," you said slyly, to which Jake sighed and looked down. " Can we not do this right now?" You raised your brow. "Do what argue? Are you afraid of being called out?" Standing up, Jake sighed once more.

“ stop this it’s so-so irritating ! I keep trying to explain myself to you and you never want to listen to me ! It’s like In your head you’ve already painted me as some Cheater when that’s not what happed ” I don’t have time for this “ well I don’t know how you expect me to believe you when I saw what I saw ! Even my friends told me that they saw you guys together before I even came down to see it for myself !” Jake sighed in irritation, approaching you and placed his hands on your shoulders “y/n.. can you just trust me for once and take my word.. you know how much you mean to me, I would never go out of my way to hurt or disrespect you." “She kissed me, and I didn't know what to do. I pulled her away, but you had already left."

You didn't want to believe it, yet you gave in so easily, especially when Jake sounded so serious and genuine that you couldn't detect a lie anywhere... Reality had hit you. You realise for some reason that you never really talked to Jake after that, and ghosted him because you had fixed your mind on your opinion of what had happened, never really wanting to hear his side of the story

You hated yourself for doing this and ignoring him all this time, you both had been hurting for no cause. If it went for yourself and your overthinking and actually had bothered to talk it out with Jake now you could have still been together. Gosh why am I so quick to always jump to conclusions this is my fault " Jake.. I'm so sorry..I-“ shhh it's ok it’s alright " Jake cut you off by pulling you into his chest, one hand resting on your head and the other on your waist as he pulled you into a hug. "All that matters is that you believe me now in this moment.. that's all I ever needed and wanted from you my love," similar to before before hearing him call you that made your heart flutter but in this circumstance you felt your heart just melt.

“Here is my heart out for you ”

JAKE’S FINAL AND LAST ATTEMPT WAS THE GRAND FINAL. Now that you and him were on talking terms the awkwardness eventually faded away and it was like freshman year all over again with the two of you locking gazes across the room and quickly looking away. Blushing at any compliment he would make. Cute exchange of love letters in class it was nostalgic. Jake was the happiest he had been in a long time, and his teammates noticed. Jake's performance had improved shooting many goals more than he had in the previous semester, and it was clear from the lovey dovey glances you two exchanged across the sports hall at every practise session that you and jake had patched it up. Though Jake, on the other hand still wanted to ask you to prom.

But now that you two are back on track, he wanted to make a huge proposal that would show you and Convey how how he truly felt and as well as a cool way to ask you out. Jake wanted to impress you with want he knew best aka basketball.

During practice you had arrived a bit late due to your teacher but you still rushed to the hall not wanting to keep the team waiting. As soon as you arrived you sat down on the front bench as you went on your phone to quickly reply to your friends message ." hey y/n" You look up to see Jake joyously waving at you, and you reciprocate one. He holds the ball up pointing in your direction " This one's for you! " He yells before shooting into the hoop. Jake had a vision of how this would play out, which included him taking a beautiful shot, you being amazed, and him asking you out to prom. But, unfortunately for you Jake and everyone else in the room, he absolutely missed it; he wasn't even close to getting it in.

The entire situation was humiliating. Afterwards to top it off Jake clumsily stood on one knee almost tripping while he whipped out a Harry Bow ring form his pocket , reaching out to you, "w-will you be my prom date?" No..way he can’t be serious You were resisting the urge to laugh, but you managed to let out a small "yes" as you ran into his arms for a big bear hug. The whole thing was amusing. Jake was clumsy, but it was adorable because you could see he tried his hardest for you even if it didn't work out.

Despite all that and happed between you two… you was happy to see he was still the awkward and cute boyfriend you had learned to adore.

@COPYRIGHTS SOOTREEPEAR 2023

𖤐 steal my work and I’ll come to your house and suck your blood 🧛‍♀️

𖤐authors notes and dat pt2.📝: broke off the sad ending streeak 😻 wrote tbis at 4am so if sometimg is spelt wrong erase it from your memory and act like u didn’t see it (ง'̀-'́)ง aniii ways i hope you liked it !! + if you already saw this it is a repost 😭 I privated it and made some changes

- peace and love ♡︎

𖤐 link to my other works !!

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wangxianficfinder · 6 months

Text

Fic finder

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1. I'm looking for a fic that's during the Cloud Recesses study arc where, WWX I think, found out Wen Chao couldn't read and started teaching him. I think a couple of the other kids started helping him, MianMian maybe? I can't remember much but they definitely helped him learn how to read and became friends. TIA

FOUND? Wei Wuxian’s Super Special Super Secret Book Club by Anonyma (T, 31k, WWX & WC & LQY, WangXian, Canon Divergence)

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2. hello!! All good? I'm looking for a collection of one shots, and I can't find it, I read it a little while ago but I remember a one shot, where Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying were discussing the fact that Wei Ying had saved the heirs of the sects in cave and Jin Ling was listening and Wei Ying was saying that if he hadn't saved the heirs Jin Ling wouldn't exist and Jiang Cheng said something like, Whatever.... Honestly, I don't even remember the tags, but Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying realizing that Jin Ling had heard, Wei Ying asks what Jin Ling wants. @sweettiebah

FOUND! 🔒 Chapter 11: Careless Words of Short Prompts by Vrishchika (JL POV - Not JC Friendly - WWX loses his patience)

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3. Hello !! Ive read this fanfic a while ago and I have multiple ss of it since i like to save memorable parts of the fic but now i cant remember it anymore </3 i dont remember the synopsis but there was a scene where Lwj and Wwx were in an inn while out night hunting, and wwx suspected the person serving them to have poisoned lwj, wwx got really angry and threatened the guy to the max

quote:

Wei Wuxian slammed him against the wall again, cutting off his rapid ramblings and jostling his fractured arm. "Your stories bore me," he spoke lowly, peering his head around slightly so as to almost look into Heng She's face. He still had yet to acknowledge Lan Wangji's presence. "Tell me why you poisoned the tea, or I will hang you in the street by your intestines, ripped open to let the crows feed on your liver." @jingyisbff

FOUND! let me sing to you by greybird_crookedbranch (T, 61k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, adorable Juniors, Minor Original Character(s)for plot purposes, Minor Violence, Demonic Cultivation, resentful energy, Trauma, Guilt, Protectiveness, BAMF WWX, Hurt wwx, Protective WWX, Protective LWJ, Baby Lans, Mental Instability, Possession, it's a case fic but the case is for the hurts, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV LWJ, a tasteful seasoning of Yunmeng Bros Reconcilliation, CQL canon except LWJ is not chief cultivator, Nightmares)

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4. Hello! T__T I have my focus mode on so my distracting apps like twitter (x) are paused. I took a 5 minutes break and opened it. I saw a threadfic of Bottomji/Topxian (Omegaverse) They already have 3 kids (Yuan, Twins) but they are all alphas. lwj wants a daughter (or an omega son). He rode wwx that night then let him knot him for 3x. They were on a date and lwj bought some robes for a girl the confronts wwx that he wants a daughter.... Thats all Ive read. I want to read the whole thread but my app closed. 💔 Can you guys help me with it? I cant find it anymore.

FOUND! sounds like this twt threadfic by @/omegawangji

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5. Hi, I need help finding a fic I’m pretty sure I’ve seen recommended on here a couple years ago.

I don’t remember the title or the author. It was on AO3. It was an Alternative Universe fic where WWX is an art student (and lived in a dorm with the Wen siblings) and LWJ has a very active but discreet sex life. WangXian know each other but they’re not together. Eventually they start sleeping with each other (WWX doesn’t realize LWJ actually likes him and he’s not just another hookup). There is also a secondary plot about one of LWJ’s past hookups stalking and tormenting them at a club or party at some point? T

his is all I can remember, unfortunately. I hope to reach someone who knows which fic this is by asking on here. WangXian nation, do your thing! 🙏

FOUND? show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending) It doesn't match exactly but some details do

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6. For fic finder, a fic I read a good while back.

It was one of those “jgs magically spies on the burial mounds to get people to hate wwx and the remnants” but in this one wwx and lwj did the “a-yuan is birthed from wwx” thing and the people spying believe it. Lqr passes out for a bit and lxc and jc start planning a wedding since lwj apparently deflowered wwx. I think it was completed

FOUND! Assumptions by draechaeli (T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, not mpreg, Not Established Relationship, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, gender non-conforming titles)

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7. Hello! Here's one I've read a dozen times and would swear I have bookmarked, but now I can't find it. Basically, LZ is a courtesan/assassin who's sent by JGS to seduce and kill the powerful Yiling Patriarch. Meng Yao is working with LZ, although he has his own plans against JGS, of course. WWX later realizes LZ's brother is alive and looking for him, so he brings them together. (By the way, are you thinking of adding a Courtesan compilation? There are plenty of good ones to rec!) Thank you! @ladysalieri (we don't have a courtesan au specific comp but we do have a royalty one that includes a few! ^^ - Mod C)

FOUND! out to get you (to get you) by iliacquer (E, 41k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, switching, top/bottom LWJ, top/bottom WWX, power play, courtesan LWJ, assassin LWJ, dark lord WWX, bondage, happy ending, past slavery)

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8. Hello i am looking for a fic where modern lwj time travels to the canon era and becomes original lwj, in the fic he is betrothed to yilling patriarch wy who sends him letters, and wy becomes more desperate and insane because lwj doesn't answers his letters. @ahiku-chan

FOUND? if this is a dream, i pray to never wake up by dangodangomilk (M, 27k, WangXian, Marriage, Weddings, Engagement, Canon Divergence, Parallel Universes, YLLZ WWX, false amnesia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Content)

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9. hello! i'm looking for a fic from lwj's pov. he runs into wwx (dark) in yiling i think, after burial mounds but before his new body. lwj is horrified by how bad he looks and convinces him to go to an inn (wwx mean), they have sex. during this lwj realizes that wwx's bones are all broken from his fall in the burial mounds and he is holding them stable with resentful energy. he can't heal them, but the resentful energy is working as a stopgap. possibly of it's own volition? bittersweet? thx! @saydams

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10. Hello!! I love this blog, where I find fics to read!! A few days ago, I asked someone to find me a fic, but I'm here again because I remembered med and another fic that I loved reading, but currently can't find.

The things I remember: Wangxian has an spiritual connection, which is why the golden core transfer does not occur (and it is qing who informs Wei Ying of the connection, as Madam Yu knew and gave tea to undo the connection but it did not work ) and if I'm not mistaken Yanli is the one who told Wei Ying that the spiritual connection no longer exists (which is obviously wrong)

If you can't find it, I ask you to recommend something similar.

Thank you ❤💛🖤 @sweettiebah

FOUND! Half of my soul by Asphodel_Meadow (T, 8k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, 5+1 Things, kinda soul bond but with their golden cores, POV Outsider, POV Alternating)

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11. Hi, im looking for a fic where when Wei Wuxian was dead others tried to flirt with Lan Wangji. I remember one of the scenes where Shizui was walking to the jingshi and overherd someone (a cousin of Lan Jingyi?) trying to flirt with Lan Wangji. I think it was a 5+1 type of deal. No matter the way i word it, i cant find it. I`ve been looking on and off for months. @herebedragons02

FOUND? Criteria by incendir (T, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian) Criteria from the Resolutions series! I've reread ot enough to know that description on site

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12. I hope you don't mind me asking, i'm looking for a wangxian fic where there is a scene that takes place in the cloud recesses where jiang cheng injures nie huaisang and nie mingjue almost declares war on the jiang sect. Thats as much as i remember I hope it's enough to go on. If it helps any it was either a Jiang Cheng bashing fic or a Jiang Family bashing. / Hi i'm looking for a Jiang Cheng or Jiang Family Bashing fic (can't remember which it was) where Nie Huaisang gets severely injured by Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue almost declares war on the Jiang Sect. Thank you. @hanabichan2018

FOUND? Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, Not JIang Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

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13. Hello I’ve been looking for this fic but I cannot find it I remember seeing it before it’s where in order to survive the burial mounds WY exchanges his heart which changes how he acts and then at the end JC, JYL, LWJ and NH decide to go to the burial mounds to see what happened to WY

FOUND?🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, wangxian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

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14. Hi! For next fic finder, could you help me find a modern wangxian au with combination of arranged marriage, marriage of convenient (i think it is), and contract marriage. YZY arranged a marriage between WWX and LWJ for a bussiness cooperation. WWX agreed to that so he can get away from the Jiang (especially YZY) and to make his own carrier. Then LWJ and WWX make a contract to make the marriage last until 2 years and decided if they want to keep the marriage or not. I think LWJ playing his guqin and WWX is used to that and when 2 years almost up, WWX didnt want to get divorce. The fic is focused about them getting to know each other. I think thats all i can remember. I read that in 2021 so the detail is kinda patchy. If you dont know the fic at least a confirmation that im not the only one that ever read this. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

Hi, im #14. Unfortunately its not the fic that iam searching for. The one that iam serching for focused on wangxian, other characters barely appears. Even the jiangs only gets mentioned. Wwx didnt work for Jiang, i think he is graphic design freelancer? The agrement for divorce is between the two of them, their family didnt know about their agreement. They choose how long they stay together before divorce after they think that the project between their family is finished so their divorce wont effect the project. WWX even has a plan after their divorce to open his own office. If i remember corectly, WWX realize he didnt want to get divorced is a few days before the day of their divorce. Like he is in his room and thinking that after their divorce, he cant listening to LWJ playing his guqin and spend their days together and he didnt want that.

I really hope i didnt mix several fic together. Thank you!

NOT FOUND! you're the only thing i think i got right by sandustorms (lucianclouds) (M, 48k, wangxian, Arranged Marriage, Falling In Love, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic, Married Life, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, do you remember that fake reddit post abt the guy that fell for his husband, that he was arranged to be married to, that was kind of what inspired this, Happy Ending, Modern, Strangers to Lovers, Romance)

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15. Hello Mods, hope you are having a good day (^ ω ^)

This is for the fic finder and I'm not quite sure about this so just to be safe I don't want to upset anyone so

Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning!

This is what I remember: WWX is roofied or SA'ed in the Cloud Recesses ( I don't remember if that is shown) and there's a lot about how he handle it (denial? minimizing? disassociation?), and LWJ is there, he didn't do it, he is good, and anti-victim-blaming? if that makes sense?

FOUND? obscura: ink stain by AvoOwO (M, 20k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Emotions, Heavy Angst, Painting, Temporary Amnesia, Drugs, Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drink Spiking, Victim Blaming, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Has a Crush, Soft wangxian, Holding Hands, Blood and Violence, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, WWX is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Protective LXC, Good Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Tries, OCs, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, WWX Needs a Hug, someone gets punched a lot, LWJ contemplates murder for a moment, JC almost gets it done, not quite about romance, as much as romance elements there, more so about the small things, LWJ loves how WWX smells, some nasty things are said, WWX def needs a nap, he gets one dw, LQR Gets Shit Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Scheming NHS)

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16. Hi! For fic finder, I am looking for a short-ish fic where Jin Ling learns that Wei Wuxian is the one who named him “Rulan.” Jin Ling then realizes he is named after the Lans, and he has a teenage meltdown about how he is named after his uncle’s crush. Does this sound familiar? Thank you, everyone, for all your help! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! three days gone by occultings (microcomets) (G, 4k, JL & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Bonding, Homophobic Language, Fluff) there may be a few fics that fit, is it maybe the one where jin ling and jiang cheng are reading sect letters together, and jin ling got mad about being called "rulan"? so far i found another fic, ig it's "similar" since jin ling's only mad for one sentence, but i thought to link it anyway

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17. Hi! I'm looking for a fic, but i only remember a specific scene from it: wwx and the wens on the horses and it's raining and lan zhan lets them go, but then i guess granny wen says go back and get him, and when they return, lan zhan is soaking wet and she says something along the lines of 'dramatic young people'. Thank you so much!

FOUND? Turn Around by mondengel (Not rated, <1k, wangxian, humor)

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18. Hi, I'm looking for an AU WIP fic where WWX has to wear a mask; nobody but family is allowed to see his face. He and LWJ have an arranged marriage, but LWJ still refuses to let him take his mask off, and doesn't make any effort in the marriage. Very soon after they are married, he takes Wen Qing as a concubine, without explaining anything to WWX. WWX moves to a house near Lotus Pier, and there is a bit about him adopting children, but I can't remember how that came about... Thank you! @godiva696

FOUND! Sounds like the deleted "A price to pay" by wangxianist.

Not FOUND! sounds sorta like shana's identity porn fic here on tumblr

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19. Hello! 😃 I hope you can help me find this fic that I have been looking for!

I only remember that Wei Wuxian gets reunited with the sect leader of the Yu sect,(she is basically his grandma I think) and he get very emotional, it is also at a discussion conference or something like that, it is a very sweet/happy scene.

thank you 😊

NOT FOUND!🔒补救; to remedy, to do something to correct or improve something that is wrong by ravenditefairylights (G, 21k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Healing, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Getting Together, Everybody Gets Their Shit Together, Family Feels, Teacher WWX, Soft WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Marriage Proposal, Assassination Attempt(s), Family Bonding, soup as a metaphor, Meishan as a metaphor, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Forgiveness, BAMF WWX, Assassin WWX) i'm not positive this is it, but has a scene like that

Not FOUND And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) has a wwx-Sect Leader Yu relationship a bit like that? They meet up in Meishan, though, it's not a conference

Not FOUND The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) has wwx summoned by an OC Yu cousin instead of mxy, so there is some wwx-Yu sect interactions in the story. I don't remember it being particularly sweet or happy, but the setting is a conference

Not FOUND Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, magical healing and how it fails, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed my, Families of Choice, Original Supporting characters, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) last suggestion, and this probably isn't it, but it has a lot of Yunmeng Trio & Yu sect interactions (mostly Jiang Cheng centric, but wwx is there too lol)

FOUND! Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) the reunion scene is on ch31

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20. Hello! I’m looking for a fic where during the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian was able to tame the Xuanwu, resulting in victory. However, he wasn’t fully able to control its bloodlust so it was sequestered onto an island in Lotus Pier.

However, he leaves one day for a brief visit to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, JGS paid a child to visit the island and the child is killed. This causes WWX to go with the Xuanwu into the water surrounding the island and he disappears for many years.

Later on, Jin Ling ends up trying to prove himself by going into the forest surrounding this island (which has since filled with resentful energy). And finds that WWX has come back and the Xuanwu has been purified.

I’m not sure if it’s been deleted??

FOUND? The Turtle Master by Gotcocomilk (M, 40k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Character Death Fix, shijie lives, Hurt/Comfort, OC Child death, zombie turtle!!, BAMF WWX, isnt he always, Fluff and Angst, first half is pain second half is soft)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

102 notes · View notes

qpenpals · 2 months

Text

First of all, support Shubble and support all victims (which is a statement that while said a lot, seems not be followed as frequently, however i hope those who read this abide by it)

Second, I don’t support wilbur soot/william gold, and I don’t think that anyone should after this.

Third, while this situation is not about me, i have feelings and opinions about it that i would like to share, but even if you don’t read anymore,

Please watch shelby’s vod, and maybe try checking her content out, because while i don’t frequently watch her, i enjoy her streams and maybe you will too! her new hardcore series sounds great :)

This is quite long, but honestly this is kind of just for me to collect my thoughts, however if you read to the end thank you<3 im touched :)

ALSO ABUSE TRIGGER WARNING

Alright, so I have loved wilbur soot’s content for a very long time, 4 years or so. I watched the streams and listened to his music from the start. His content is entwined with many of my fond memories.

Earlier today, I had a breakdown over this whole situation, because, as I’ve been quite busy with school, my job, and other assorted things in my life, I found out about this morning. I had woken from a nightmare about my previous abuser. Who i will be talking about a lot more of as they really impacted my views on this situation.

However this nightmare had left me in a fragile mood, my girlfriend was still sleeping and i didn’t want to wake her, so to comfort myself i went to read one of my bookmarked fanfictions, this fanfiction, while i dont remember the title is one that i’ve found comforting for a very long time, so much so that when im stressed my partner has it saved to send to me so i can calm down.

It was a fanfiction about quackity and tubbo, wilbur soot was mentioned maybe 5 times, and the author had deleted it.

This caused me to try and find out why, so i went to their page and they had posted a temporary fic explaining what had been going on.

My first reaction had been disbelief, I then went to research everything. It was a lot to process.

I watched shelby’s vod. Before this i had mainly been disconnected from what i had seen, taking it it but not with any of my own feelings or thoughts really, just processing.

Shelby’s situation hits really hard for me because a lot of it mirrors my own abusive relationship of a few years ago. The wording Wilbur used against her, sounds like what my old partner would use against me. His actions, such as her having to clean and taking care of food, and amenities, were things i had to experience.

Abuse TW:

My old partner would physically abuse me through biting as well, he would claim that he just liked knowing i was his, and yet, like shubble, if i ever used our safe word, which happened so fucking often, he either wouldn’t listen, bite down harder on my neck, or fucking smile at me before letting go.

This got to the point that multiple times he had drawn blood from my neck, that i still have scars from today. And as i watch Shubble talk about her story which is ever so close to mine, I wonder that if I had watched this before, maybe i wouldn’t have stayed in that relationship.

I proceeded to stay in this relationship for 2 years before i realized how much harm he was doing to me, because i truly believed he loved me, because of all the lovebombing he would do.

End of Abuse TW:

And yet i felt pain aside from sympathy or memories, when learning of this, as the content Wilbur had put out had actually helped me out of this relationship, his music was pretty much all i listened to the months of healing after i got out and it helped, the art is good, and yet the author is one i cannot respect nor support in anyway now that i am aware.

i’d suggest watching this tiktok by @lasmanburg that really explains my thoughts and feelings on this

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL1tb5Wg/

Right back to the content. I don’t believe that we should throw it all away, i don’t think that people should be deleting their art, fanfiction, or anything based on Wilbur. Because in the end it’s all art that we have created and interpreted and though the man who inspired it is horrible, all that has been made does not reflect his actions, but instead love and creativity from vast multifaceted community.

One can continue their writing and work because they are the ones creating it, not him, and besides most interpretations of him stray quite far from the source anyways

I think that one can continue to engage in his content as long as one does not directly support him, such as pirating his music, but personally at least right now listening to his music which brought me so much comfort-makes me feel sick. So think i’ll be taking a step back.

I don’t really know how to end this, i just needed to get my thoughts out honestly. I have therapy in an hour. I hope all of you who’ve made it to the end have a wonderful day and drink some water. I wish shelby well, and i’m glad she has been able to share this situation. And with that, I must now leave :)

#lil summary in the tags #alright so basically i don’t think people should delete their works based off of wilbur and that as long as one does not support him direct #engaging in previous content is okay #however i will likely not be posting about him anytime soon #also go check out #lasmanburg #because their videos have really helped me put my thoughts into words and i think their content is pretty swell #also if they are currently reading this hello! i hope tagging you isnt a bother #and if you’re uncomfortable i will remove it!#wilbur soot #william gold #shubble #tw abuse #i speak!#wilbur situation

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therealprismcat · 5 months

Note

PLEASE DO IT

the people have decided, here's a fanfic rec list of dsaf fanfics that arent focussed on davesport! (in no particular order)

Centipedes by Raccoonsandpossumswritesometimes [incomplete]

Dee centric fic which is a swap between Dee and Jack. Not only is davesport not the main focus, it's also pretty toxic. TWs at the beginning of each chapter, but heed the tags.

Hello, You. by galaticanthem [incomplete]

Another similar premise to Centipedes. If you think davesport is toxic in centipedes though, here it is arguably worse. Plot is a bit confusing as of chapter 7, but as it stands, here are the trigger warnings that I can remember off of the top of my head (but basically, if you're sensitive to disturbing themes, i'd skip this one):

Murder

Abuse

Kidnapping (by the looks of it but ????)

Underage drinking

Neglect

Body horror (I think??? it's so early into the fic im unsure of half these warnings but as it is rn i think it is important they're there because thats what it looks like at least)

Dave is very objectively NOT a good person in this fic. Like, at all. I don't think any future chapter could change that. If you're a person who cannot read about their favourite character committing absolutely heinous things theres nothing wrong with that and I wouldn't read this. If you can stomach all that though, it's a good story.

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid by Wario_Speedwagon [incomplete]

Davesport is there and it's prevalent and not toxic, but it's not the main focus. It's more of an accidental baby acquisition fic. I can't think of any trigger warnings for this one, but check the tags. always.

Matted Fur by Afval [one-shot]

Evil ending fic with rabbit symbolism for Dave. All TWs are in the tags.

Sharp-Toothed Rabbit by orphan_account [one-shot]

More evil end Dave ft. animal metaphors! what more could you want? All TWs in the tags.

happiest day by grimkid [one-shot]

A fic about Jack's happiest day. Jack x Steven, no TWs iirc but heed the tags.

Octane Rating by dontrollthedice [one-shot]

Canon compliant fic about the good ending, only its harrysport. i dont even like the ship but this fic makes me so unwell /pos. No TWs I think but look at the tags.

NO MIDDLE-CALLING by XYZ_Countoriss [one-shot]

Silly chatfic, what can go wrong? -oh that right. No TWs needed, but look at the tags.

Operation Get Your Brother to Remember You After Years of Thinking He is Dead by Sockth [incomplete]

A fic focussed on Peter and Jack, I think the title is self explanatory. No TWs but look at tags.

Safety Infiltration by themostneontwig [incomplete]

After Jack betrays Dee in the evil route, Dave decides he needs to be stopped. A fic based around the idea of Legacy Jack founding the pizzaplex. No TWs that instantly come to mind other than the fact that it's set almost immediately after Jack kills Dee. Look at the tags though.

Hot Chocolate by Wario_Speedwagon [one-shot]

Ouch, set right after Jack dies the first time round. This fic physically hurt me and I mean that in the best way possible. TWs in tags.

After the Storm by themostneontwig [one-shot]

Christmas fic focussed on Peter and Jack. Read this one after Hot Chocolate, it can save you. No TWs unless you're Ebenezer Scrooge in which case dni

Jack's Squad Has UNO Night by Wario_Speedwagon [one-shot]

The title's a lie they play cluedo /j just some wholesome fun. No TWs.

An Unexpected Connection by End_Transmission [one-shot]

Post good end, but Jack 'lives'. We all know Dave had at least ONE kid. No TWs.

Peter Kennedy and the Worst Place on Earth by biptari [incomplete]

AU where Jack and Peter swap places. Steven x Peter. As for TWs I can't say everything off of the top of my head but I KNOW Henry is homophobic and transphobic in this. I can't remember if he says slurs 100% but I'm pretty sure he does use at least one so like, watch out. Other than that, heed the tags.

That's all I have right now. If you know some more then feel free to reblog to add them. No hate to davesport or anything but if you write dsaf fanfics that aren't focussed on davesport then you are my lifeline /hj

#dayshift at freddy's #dsaf #dsaf au #dsaf fanfic #dsaf fanfic rec list #rec list

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months

Note

(resending because it looks like some of my asks got deleted)

[Im uber excited to read more your fic btw!]

I'm glad that you're excited for the fic! I'm going to split up the story arcs into their own fics and turn it into a series! book 1 will feature Wukong's journey and following isolation up to a hero is born.

[...Peach chips at least dont seem to trigger the worst of his food adversion though, the crunchy chip texture seems to cancel it out.]

at least he can still get the flavor through the chips

[...So the idea that MK potientially remembers Wukong from this time is a huge shock to him.] + [MK, clueless: "Umm... their hair was a warm orange-y color. Like the sun. And I think their eyes was this really shiny yellow, or maybe amber colour? Oh! And they had this round stomach - I remember hugging it..." *gets kinda wistful* "I don't know why I'm not with them anymore, but hope they're doing ok if they're still out there."]

upon learning that MK kinda remembers him Wukong def feels guilty about not being able to raise himself, especially with the fact that MK doesn't hold anything against his "birth mother" for giving him up.

but then MK being a monkey comes out of the bag in s4 and MK and Wukong actually get to talk about it. it's a very emotional conversation, with Wukong having come to terms while in the scroll about all of his reasons for not being able to raise MK, and MK just being the sweetest most understanding boy ever, even if he wishes he could have known sooner. they come out of that conversation stronger.

what if after MK learned he was a monkey when he and Macaque go into the scroll to get Wukong they stumble upon a memory of a tiny baby monkey that looks like his monkey form cuddling into Wukong's stomach like MK remembers doing with his "birth mom" and that's how he realizes that Wukong was the person he thought was his mom. when he faced the scroll's curse he got flashes of his life before the noodle shop, but nothing that revealed anything about his birth mom except the small flash of Nuwa, so the sudden, proper reveal still takes him by surprise. he also stumbles upon the memory of Wukong crying as he makes the decision to and give away MK.

[Wukong def was hit hard by Ao Lie's passing. It pains him to give the godparent title to anyone else...]

In a way, giving the title to anyone else probably feels like the final straw of admitting that Ao Lie really is truly gone. but admitting that finally means learning to let go, allowing Wukong to grow and heal from his grief which in turn will lead to him isolating himself less. character development ya'know, and in the end he probably feels like moving on is one of the best things to honor his late brother's memory, Ao Lie would want him to move on and find joy in what he has now.

[...PIF just looks over at Red Son, alive and healthy, and just hugs Wukong the next time she sees him.]

Wukong is def very confused when he and DBK go to tell PIF that they have a plan to stop the bone demon but it involves giving the fire back to Red Son, and before he can even say hi she has him in a bear hug. he isn't used to this, he is very confused.

[And when Yuebei is born having "imprinted" on Wukong's yearning/love for Macaque...] + [Both monkey parents are sobbing, especially when they learn that Yuebei was unconciously trying her best to look like Macaque's baby with the limited genetics available. Wukong has multiple centuries of love to dish out, and Macaque is catching up fast.]

Macaque, as happy as he is that she looks enough like him that he can pass as the baby-daddy, def feels a bit guilty upon learning that the only reason that is is because of how how much Wukong missed him after he left. he loves being a parent to Yuebei, but as much as he loves people assuming that she is his their likeness also serves as a reminder that he wasn't there.

he has a lot of time to make up for, and he plans on getting right on that.

[PIF: *seeing the baby's dark fur and glowing ears* PIF (whispering so not to wake the baby): "I fcking knew it." Macaque: *is too tired/proud to argue with her* "Yeaaah..." :')]

Macaque is honestly just happy he's allowed to be involved in baby's life.

[Red has no idea what to do in response to all this baby talk, so he just; tries to apologise to SWK for setting him on fire a bunch as a toddler??] + [Mei, PIF and Jiuweihuli get talking and soon Wukong is looking at a baby shower akin to a red carpet event.]

hey, it was a delicious cake. though Wukong is pretty sure cakes aren't supposed to be spicy.

the attention Mei and the older ladies are giving him over the pregnancy is honestly a little overwhelming at times due to how unexpected it is. especially from PIF and Macaque's adopted mom figure, he'd thought the two of them would be far more mad about mac dying then anything else. he does apologizes to Jiuweihuli about bonking her over the head that one time when he was hormonal and stressed when they get a proper chance to talk.

[You'd honestly be more afraid of that baby.]

absolutely.

if the infamous "god killer" is set to show up and then you learn that the god killer is the child of the Sun Wukong, menace to the heavens, and earned her title before she was even out if the womb, that is terrifying. imagine what she'll be like when she gets older and starts combat training.

[like turning the Medusa's head into a shield.] +[Her staff being a gift from her parents that has no inate magic ability beyond the fact that she puts her trust in it as her first "real" weapon.] + [I can imagine she uses a glamour/quick magic to put the skull/mask on (like Dr Facillier in "Friends on the Other Side") as a way of saying "You're f*cked" to her opponents.]

the medusa comparison is awesome and on point!

I love idea she puts so much trust she puts into the staff because it was her first proper weapon. I feel she also puts a lot of trust into it because it's from her parents.

I love the Dr. Facillier comparison, I was thinking of her swishing her mask on like a miraculous lady bug transformation.

[I'm excited to see how your drawings go!]

I'll be sure to share soon!

[Wukong and Macaque are def panicking, though its more an excited kind of panicking. Nezha and MK are def screaming. Guanyin is the only one with a cool head the entire time.] + [Pigsy is good at pretending he isn't worried, but he ends up tearing apart the campsight's kitchen in a hurry to make enough food for everyone.]

everyone is panicking, just to different lengths. Wukong for his own sake is trying to keep his excitement to a manageable level, Macaque is notably not, portaling warm blankets and pillows and water and towels to the campsite or wherever the end up settling for Wukong's labor to play out (i like to think Guanyin takes everyone to the south sea). Mei and MK are shaking each other and screaming while Red Son tries to calm them down, Ne Zha is running around doing everything Guanyin asks of him to keep himself distanced from hyperventilating. Tang is torn between trying not to be sick and writing about what's going on, Pigsy is already tearing apart the kitchen, and Sandy is politely calling the Demon Bull parents to let them know where they are, that they're all safe, and that the baby is on the way! while keeping LBD's host preoccupied.

[Especially when DBK and PIF realise what's happening, and are posted incase Wukong's baby causes as much trouble for him as Red did to them.]

the bull family are on their way the second they hear about what's going on. they aren't missing the birth for anything, and they wanna be there for their family. also they need to check in on Red Son

[Guanyin has a secret stash in the Southern Ocean of all the letters and tapes (and even some drawings of what she might have looked like) Wukong ever made for Yuebei, in case he wasn't able to give them to her in person. Yuebei ends up finding them when she's a moody teenager, mad at her baba for something stupid.]

Guanyin is there to go through all them with her, Yuebei is amazed at much her baba loved her well before she was ever born, even if it becomes a little bittersweet after she learns that he could have died for her to be born and was willing to go through with the pregnancy anyway, for the sake of the baby he loved so much he may have never been able to meet. when she goes home she gives her baba a big hug. Yuebei: *walks into to the house* BABA Wukong: *not expecting her back so soon* oh! Yuebei, are you okay, I'm sorry about the fight earlier I was- Yuebei: *tackles him into a hug, muffled talking with her face buried in her Baba's chest* m'sorry, I love you. Wukong: *a little surprised but happy* love you too little one ps: what do you think Wukong would use as an affectionate nickname for Yuebei in this au? also, at what point do you think her name was decided on.

[Pre-series; In absense of any other godparent... I bet Wukong would have trusted Yuebei with Guanyin if possible. The goddess would have gladly taken the infant had Wukong not survived the birth, though it would pain her for many centuries to come.]

they absolutely would, even if looking at Yuebei would always be bittersweet long after it stopped actually hurting whenever she saw Wukong in her. I feel like in the event she was left in Guanyn's care, Guanyin wouldn't hide her parentage, and the first time Yuebei asks about details at like 10yo or something and they spend the next few hours going through the things Wukong left for her (except for anything specifically for certain dates/milestones).

[Once the relationship between Wukong and Mac improves, so does the baby's reaction to Mac's voice (symbolism). She finally starts to associate the "bad" voice with her bama, and soon it's not a "bad voice" anymore. Though there probably is a weird bridge-point where Mac has to put on silly accents/voices when he baby-talks to Yuebei or else she'll get mad at him.]

Macaque def cries at every big relationship milestone between him and Yuebei (and him and Wukong, seeing how much Wukong has changed for the better makes him very hopeful they could have the life they promised each other, but seeing how much Wukong has also been hurting he is very grateful he has the oppurtunity to make things better. ultimately, he is very grateful he made the decision to stay and not squander the chance). but there's def a period of time in there where anytime Macaque and Wukong get in a fight (because healing and reconciliation isn't linear) it sets his relationship with Yuebei back a couple squares.

I always thought that Macaque having six sensitive ears and being a theater performer would make him a killer at vocals, and he can change his voice pretty much at will to something completely random, someone else's voice if he hears them, or mimic the sounds of animals and/or other non-living objects that produce sounds. so he would absolutely nail and accents and voices he needs to do to keep Yuebei appeased. he probably at some point mimics Wukong's voice in order to calm her down, because out of all her "good sounds" her baba's is the most "safe".

[Yellowtusk immediately notices and warns Azure to let the cub down so she can at least crawl and inspect her new surroundings. Peng laughs at the thought of letting "the hatchling" decide the terms of her imprisonment.] + [Then Peng feels a tiny, but powerful, hand grab their wing feathers...] + [Yellowtusk leaves before the carnage reaches him.]

the brotherhood assumes Yuebei is also Macaque's kid like everyone else, and because of this Peng def is not above teasing the already fussy infant monkey. Yellowtusk is looking at his brothers either ignore or "torment" the infant of at least one if not two of their other sworn brothers. he realizes in that moment that the other two aren't who he thought they were, or at the very least they aren't anymore, but most importantly they aren't the type of people he wants to be involved with. the change of heart leads him to not feeling to bad when leaving his brothers to their fate when Yuebei has enough for the sake of his own safety.

(dont worry you asks didnt get deleted, Im just very lazy/bust with college)

referencing this previous Slow boiled au post.

[I'm glad that you're excited for the fic! I'm going to split up the story arcs into their own fics and turn it into a series! book 1 will feature Wukong's journey and following isolation up to a hero is born.]

I wait with bated subscribe button.

[upon learning that MK kinda remembers him Wukong def feels guilty about not being able to raise himself, especially with the fact that MK doesn't hold anything against his "birth mother" for giving him up. but then MK being a monkey comes out of the bag in s4 and MK and Wukong actually get to talk about it. it's a very emotional conversation, with Wukong having come to terms while in the scroll about all of his reasons for not being able to raise MK, and MK just being the sweetest most understanding boy ever, even if he wishes he could have known sooner. they come out of that conversation stronger. what if after MK learned he was a monkey when he and Macaque go into the scroll to get Wukong they stumble upon a memory of a tiny baby monkey that looks like his monkey form cuddling into Wukong's stomach like MK remembers doing with his "birth mom" and that's how he realizes that Wukong was the person he thought was his mom. when he faced the scroll's curse he got flashes of his life before the noodle shop, but nothing that revealed anything about his birth mom except the small flash of Nuwa, so the sudden, proper reveal still takes him by surprise. he also stumbles upon the memory of Wukong crying as he makes the decision to and give away MK.]

THIS WHOLE IDEA!!!

Wukong doesn't want to tell MK the truth cus he think's he'll hate him for having to give him up.

When MK and Mac see the memory of a baby monkey demon hugging (a much more sad-looking) Wukong's stomach, the memories all come flooding back to MK about who he thought was his "birth mother" . Even though he knows the Monkey King isn't really his birth parent (glaring at Nuwa), he knew that the choice to raise MK fell on his heavy shoulders. Even if MK is a *little* upset when he finds out via S4 Memory Scroll-ing with Macaque that he's a monkey demon, MK understands that the Monkey King was simply unable to care for him while he lacked a support system. Wukong wanted MK to have a "normal" childhood that he was denied, and that simply wasn't possible on FFM at the time.

Ultimately MK is glad that Wukong had the good judgement to leave MK with Pigsy all those years ago, no matter how much it hurt.

They find the memory of Wukong standing outside in the city streets, affixing a strong glamour spell to the baby's head, and sobbing as he forces himself to stop holding them long enough to disappear and make a noise that alerts the pig chef inside the shop. It's very Meet the Robinson's esque.

The first thing MK does when he reunites with Wukong, is hug him tight and say "I never blamed you." Wukong is confused until the realisation that MK was in his memories kicks in, and he starts sobbing too.

[In a way, giving the title to anyone else probably feels like the final straw of admitting that Ao Lie really is truly gone. but admitting that finally means learning to let go, allowing Wukong to grow and heal from his grief which in turn will lead to him isolating himself less. character development ya'know,]

Yeah, even if the decision to give DBK the title of "Godfather" was pretty rash in the moment, Wukong eventually hits a point where him and DBK end up having a talk about the monkey's "late younger brother" when Wukong hesistate to make it official.

DBK is understanding of why Wukong finds it hard to move on from Ao Lie's passing. He wouldn't know what he would have done if he'd lost his Xiandi all those centuries ago. DBK is patient enough to let his little bro come to terms with this emotional hurdle. He just wished he had more time to know this odd, horse-like dragon that Wukong adored as a brother.

The convo probably happens at the same time they decide to give Red Son back the Samadhi Fire + PIF giving Wukong's an unexpected hug.

[Macaque, as happy as he is that she looks enough like him that he can pass as the baby-daddy, def feels a bit guilty upon learning that the only reason that is is because of how how much Wukong missed him after he left. he loves being a parent to Yuebei, but as much as he loves people assuming that she is his their likeness also serves as a reminder that he wasn't there. he has a lot of time to make up for, and he plans on getting right on that.]

OH you better believe post S3 Macaque is running up that Dad hill full sprint to be there for Yuebei. Even if him and Wukong take a while to confront their issues, and have a fight or two, Mac ultimately wants to BE THERE for the King who missed him so much, and the cub that changed it's appearance to reflect that.

S4 is Macaque busting on through, resolving any petty fights him and Wukong had in the past, saving his mate and cub, and developing a fatherly attitude towards MK. This is THEIR happy ending, and Mac's not gonna let Azure take that away from them.

Fun fact; since Stone Eggs are able to "steal" the Dao of others, it ws common in Stone Monkey days for widowed monkeys to start the egg-making process while buried next to their mate in hopes that both of their traits lived on in the baby. It's influenced a lot by yearning/want of the parent for their mate (the supernatural "other parent").

[the attention Mei and the older ladies are giving him over the pregnancy is honestly a little overwhelming at times due to how unexpected it is. especially from PIF and Macaque's adopted mom figure, he'd thought the two of them would be far more mad about mac dying then anything else.]

Wukong is def confused but amused by how much PIF and Jiuweihuli are adoring of him, but are shooting Mac the stinkeye. PIF has already declared herself the baby's Godmother in partnership with her husband's title, and Jiuweihuli is treating the situation as if she's expecting a grandchild. Even when Wukong explains that Mac only "started the process", that doesn't deter the demonesses.

Wukong is ofc overwhelmed by the positive attention, and scurries away for a break once the womens' backs are turned. Red Son offering him a confused, but tasty spiced cake is like a breath of fresh air.

[if the infamous "god killer" is set to show up and then you learn that the god killer is the child of the Sun Wukong, menace to the heavens, and earned her title before she was even out if the womb is terrifying. imagine what she'll be like when she gets older and starts combat training.]

Yuebei, aka "The God Killer" toddles into a fancy heavenly party and all the Celestials scatter like they saw a tiger enter the room. The infant monkey just jumps on the banquet table and starts chowing down on the hors d'oeuvres like her baba before her.

[I love idea she puts so much trust she puts into the staff because it was her first proper weapon. I feel she also puts a lot of trust into it because it's from her parents. I love the Dr. Facillier comparison, I was thinking of her swishing her mask on like a miraculous lady bug transformation.]

Yuebei and her big bro MK share the trait of "I believe, so it is", and that includes her super-cool FIRST STAFF that was probably made from a completely normal stalk of bamboo by Wukong and Mac as a birthday gift.

Ooo I like that Ladybug idea for her skull-mask. Magical girl transformation except she's dressed to reap souls. >:3

Oh gosh now Im thinking of little Yuebei being obsessed with Sailor Moon. XD

[everyone is panicking, just to different lengths.] + [while keeping LBD's host preoccupied.]

The campsite is just a warzone of panicking found family members as they scramble to get things ready for the baby's arrival. I love the idea of Sandy having enough sense to call DBK and PIF on the phone to give them a heads-up.

And poor Bai He. Just got over being possessed for x-amount of months by an ancient world-ending demon, and now she's just swept up in the chaos that a baby is coming!? She probably "heard" things while being piloted by LDB, so she knows "someone" is having a baby, she just doesn't understand the context. Especially considering that the monkey demon couple (one's the Monkey King?!) have been tending to her like parents the whole trip home. and- "Is that lady Guanyin?"

Bai He def has a "she's so cute!"-moment when she sees Yuebei for the first time. She's cuter than a kitten! :3

[the bull family are on their way the second they hear about what's going on. they will do what they have to for their family.]

The second that the Bull Couple learn that Wukong is ok after LBD's defeat, they're flying over to see if their Xiandi is ok. DBK has to be reprimanded for almost getting into a fight with Nezha over their protective instincts towards Wukong in this state.

[Guanyin is there to go through all them with her, Yuebei is amazed at much her baba loved her well before she was ever born, even if it becomes a little bittersweet after she learns that he could have died for her to be born and was willing to go through with the pregnancy anyway, for the sake of the baby he loved so much he may have never been able to meet. when she goes home she gives her baba a big hug. Yuebei: *walks into to the house* BABA Wukong: *not expecting her back so soon* oh! Yuebei, are you okay, I'm sorry about the fight earlier I was- Yuebei: *tackles him into a hug, muffled talking with her face buried in her Baba's chest* m'sorry, I love you. Wukong: *a little surprised but happy* love you too little one]

OOOOUHHH!! Yuebei having the realisation in her teens about how much Wukong sacrificed/could have lost to ensure she was born safetly!! Yuebei def stares at the tapes Guanyn provides in silence, tears rolling down her face as she sees and hears her Baba in different eras, telling his baby that they may never meet but that he loves them no matter what!!

Yuebei would feel so guilty for running off after a petty fight with her Baba! Especially if one of the things she yelled at Wukong was along the lines of; "You never do anything for me!"

Wukong is just relieved that his daughter came home safe and sound. Guanyin def did the divine version of a text message telling Wukong that Yuebei came to her island, but Wukong was still worried.

[ps: what do you think Wukong would use as an affectionate nickname for Yuebei in this au? also, at what point do you think her name was decided on.]

Wukong's nickname for Yuebei is "Egg" much like MK in the TMKATI au. Hard to get rid of the moniker when Wukojng had been using it for almost a thousand years. One of the rarer nicknames he had for her was "little moonlight" whenever he was particularly wistful.

Macaque calls the baby cuter things like "starlight" or "sunspot" cus she's "a little Sun" (pun).

The name "Yuebei" aka "Lunar Apogee" was only decided in the later months leading up to her birth. Wukong had wanted to wait until the Egg was born to decide. And ofc with his "moonlight" finally back at his side, Wukong's brain went towards moon-themed names...

[they absolutely would, even if looking at Yuebei would always be bittersweet long after it stopped actually hurting whenever she saw Wukong in her.]

Guanyin would 100% refer to herself as being Yuebei's "grandmother" in the scenario that Wukong had not survived/woken up. Little Yuebei would have grown up on Fragrant Mountain in the Southern Oceans as beloved as any creature under Guanyin's protection. Safe from teh eyes of Heaven. Wukong knows he would have made a good choice.

[Macaque def cries at every big relationship milestone between him and Yuebei (and him and Wukong, seeing how much Wukong has changed for the better makes him very hopeful they could have the life they promised each other, but seeing how much Wukong has also been hurting he is very grateful he has the oppurtunity to make things better. ultimately, he is very grateful he made the decision to stay and not squander the chance). but there's def a period of time in there where anytime Macaque and Wukong get in a fight (because healing and reconciliation isn't linear) it sets his relationship with Yuebei back a couple squares.]

Macaque and Wukong I think would have had a fight just prior to S4, likely over how MK is being trained as Wukong's successor - Wukong want's to be careful and soft on the kid, while Macaque was more the mindset of preparing MK for the worst-case scenarios. It caused the two to be on not-speaking terms, even though they were still both technically co-parenting the baby. Wukong had walked out on the most recent fight, and taken Yuebei to the old stone palace to decompress when MK found the memory scroll.

The subsetquent hours is Macaque fellign like sh*t for making Wukong hate him again + Yuebei crying when Mac raised his voice. He's convinced that he F-d Up Big, and that Wukong would never trust him again- oh hey a text from Mei.

Mei, texting: "Scroll thingy ate Monkey King!! *shocked emoji*" Mac, on an ancient nokia: "WHAT!? Where's the baby!?" Mei: "Being babysat rn. Don't worry, we're on the case!" *thumbs up* + "100 emoji" Mac: "oh thank buddha."

Macaque still goes to Water Curtain Cave to see whats up... only to find no Monkey Kids, and the smell of a familar lion...

[I always thought that Macaque having six sensitive ears and being a theater performer would make him a killer at vocals, and he can change his voice pretty much at will to something completely random, someone else's voice if he hears them, or mimic the sounds of animals and/or other non-living objects that produce sounds. so he would absolutely nail and accents and voices he needs to do to keep Yuebei appeased. he probably at some point mimics Wukong's voice in order to calm her down, because out of all her "good sounds" her baba's is the most "safe".]

Macaque canonically can nail voices and animal sounds! He pretended to be Mo meowing when he split the vans up.

I can just imagine him setting a fussy Yuebei down for sleep and trying to read her a story like;

Macaque, normal voice: "Bustopher Jone-"

Yuebei: *gives him a stank face* >:(

Macaque: "Oh ok, little miss high-standards."

Macaque: *clears throat*

Macaque, now in a goofy falsetto ala Ed Wynn: "Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones— In fact, he's remarkably fat. He doesn't haunt pubs—he has eight or nine clubs, For he's the St. James's Street Cat!"

Yuebei: *delighted giggling!* :D

Wukong: *secretly watching from the doorway, falling in love with his Warrior all over again*

[the brotherhood assumes Yuebei is also Macaque's kid like everyone else, and because of this Peng def is not above teasing the already fussy infant monkey. Yellowtusk is looking at his brothers either ignore or "torment" the infant of at least one if not two of their other sworn brothers. he realizes in that moment that the other two aren't who he thought they were, or at the very least they aren't anymore, but most importantly they aren't the type of people he wants to be involved with. the change of heart leads him to not feeling to bad when leaving his brothers to their fate when Yuebei has enough for the sake of his own safety.]

Yellowtusk is the only one of the Brotherhood trio who recognises that people have changed in the last few hundred years.

The Pilgrims are dead and gone, and their decendants are far different from their originals. Brother Bull is a family man who would do anything for his wife and son.

Brother Wukong is, from what Yellowtusk overheard, has become far wiser and more cautious. And not to say the acts of heroism he's heard attributed to Brother Macaque! (Defying and saving the world from the icy bone demon that resurrected him is no mere feat - it was the talk of the celestial and demon worlds for weeks). Not to mention the tiny dark-furred infant monkey that Azure holds, squirming in his grip...

And he also recognises that his own two companions have changed... but not for the better.

The selfless leadership once held by Azure Lion has become warped into a form of tyrany, one where their new Emperor holds their sworn brothers' infant hostage and openly fantasizes about taking Brother Wukong as his consort.

The curt bluntness he had appriciated in Peng's words have become needlessly harsh and tormenting. Even towards something as small and blameless as the infant they hold hostage.

Yellowtusk recognises that perhaps even he has changed. Being made to relive your mistakes throught the Scroll can do that. He realises that he should have said more to defend his shyer brothers, and wishes that he had the foresight to know that the Jade Emperor would have succeeded in their haphazard coup.

Yellowtusk is Wise because he recognises that the best option is to jump this sinking ship now while there's still time.

He goes to take the hostage infant away from Azure's grasp when the little girl suddenly grabs hard on one of Peng's flight feathers, the gold plating crumbling away in her grip...

Yellowtusk backs out of the throne room as the child of Sun Wukong destroys the two grown warriors like they were toys to be broken. He's thankfull that his calmer treatment of the infant only leaves him with a sore trunk from the little monkey tugging on it to guesture that she was hungry.

Sorry it took so long to answer! I've been very lazy over xmas :3

#slow boiled stone egg au #stone egg talk #pregnancy tw #sun wukong #shadowpeach #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk yuebei #yuebei xing #qi xiaotian #gif warning #lmk the brotherhood #lmk yellow tusk elephant #lmk peng #lmk azure lion

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midnight-pluto · 4 months

Text

COFFEE: special.02 — fun facts

COFFEE: tim drake x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Tim meets a barista that gives him what he needed most — a large coffee with way to many shots of espresso. Though what happens when just a single action changes the other's life, forever?

coffee master list

assuming you have gone through the whole of my coffee smau — here’s some things that you might’ve not known, my headcanons, and external info

PLAYLIST: coffee — i made a playlist that i think fit this smau or just tim in general, so feel free to listen

coffee pg.00 was originally meant to just be a one-shot but I had the bright idea to turn it into a smau since I had been really interested in them at the time and I had already created the main casts profiles so i saw no reason to not go through with it

originally reader was supposed to be adopted and have 2 moms but I didn’t know if you guys would necessarily want that or how relatable that would be so I scrapped it and went with unnamed overbearing mother and father

i actually had this idea back in December of 2022 and meant to post it on wattpad yes ik laugh at me but i didn’t have the guts to do so and I already had a lot of unfinished work that will remain unfinished

this smau also sprouted up bcuz i had gotten back into the dc rabbit hole bcuz if this goddamn site which has now grown to be a huge source of dopamine for me — ik it prob isn't healthy but this site has grown to be a safe space for me in the process so any negative infringement on my blog has me in a nervous wreck for days on end; yes, this is a reference to when i got shadowbanned for a bit

wow i got way to personal there, whoopsie

I had also originally planned for reader to give Tim a sticky note attached to his coffee that said something along the lines of: “Good luck with whatever you need 8 shots of espresso for :)” but I for some reason didn’t so the special note at the end of the pages didn’t rlly make any sense

tim might be a genius but he has a terrible sense of direction which is multiplied tenfold when he’s sleep deprived, hence why he almost dropped you off at the wrong apartment once — pg.04

duke being readers bsf happened cuz i personally believe duke deserves more content about him

duke also always somehow manages to be the message bird whenever both you and tim have a fight given how tim's first resort is the silent treatment and you're petty enough to give it back so the most the two of you ever communicate during that time is through duke — pg.15

on that same note harley has become your couple counselor which always manages to become awkward due to the sole fact tim is trying his best to subtly glare at harley since she has repeatedly tried to break his kneecaps when he was on red robin duty; again, petty

this was written by a person who has never worked at a coffee shop before so if you see and inaccuracies and have worked at one, feel free to call me out on it — not so i can fix, but bcuz i find my mistakes hilarious dont ask why, i just do

i still struggle on how i format the titles of the pages and always have to look back on my previous posts to remember how i typed things out

i also suck at developing feelings and crushes with characters so if it seems rushed or sucks that will be my one and only excuse given the fact that i find it extremely hard to even gain a crush irl

nothing was proofread

tims favorite taylor swift album is evermore i may or may not make seperate headcanons about that later

planning on posting a wattpad version of this fic sometime around late january or february, i am still debating on starting an ao3 acc since the only thing i ever do on there is simply just read fics and im not sure if i like/understand ao3's format enough to start tho

TAGLIST: @grandstrangerphantom @marsbars09 @fabitheraven @lovelypitasworld @dyjcksn @mae77eris @sugarrush-blush @djchik @soundsfunbutno @apizzacalledmel @strangetrashblog @cipheress-to-k-pop @harleycao @unhingedtimdrake @a-homosexual-homosapien @aquarii-doodles @love-stay @criminallycan @hecate-frenchfries @job-ross-the-second

#coffee ☕️ - tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader #coffee shop au #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam #batfamily #tim drake

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mugentakeda · 5 months

Text

that post about middle child zuko did so many miracles for my lu ten characterization dude…..its like ? things were already awful in the royal family, obviously. like with all the other shit aside for a moment- they just suck as a family, period. and obviously things took a sharp turn for even WORSE the Moment lu ten died. ursa leaving after killing azulon, ozai pouncing on the throne and getting impossibly worse on the kids, iroh not coming back for ages and then finally returning just for him to be in a state of apathy, the crown prince title- that shouldve been lu tens to handle, he was an adult- and what it entails falling onto zuko. who was obviously not built for that. its as if lu ten presence in the family acted as a dam for loads of bullshit on all sides. thats why i just dont vibe with the “lu ten is the only well adjusted fn royal family member” hc that i see in fics.

eldest siblings- esp ones with a big age gap between them and their siblings- might come off as well adjusted, maybe (esp when youre also a prince who has to master the art of court face and keep the refined charismatic persona up. every member of your family counts on you, individually, all for different reasons, to keep it up. the consequences of Not keeping it up are disastrous. incomprehensible.). but just look longer than like, 30 seconds, and you will see The Horrors lurking. they have to keep it together for the sake of the little ones and the inevitable explosive fallout that would definitely occur in the family if they dont keep it together.

you always have to make sure youre right around the corner. you manage your siblings, you manage the adults that cant seem to do anything right by themselves (but you have to keep it lowkey with the adults because god FORBID they get it in their heads that you might think that theyre incompetent). you try to remember how to manage yourself, because becoming family oriented that severely will make self care of any kind impossible without you even realizing it. you almost wish someone would offer help or a solution, but anytime someone else does the job for you they do it wrong, and just move along and let me do it- and there comes the isolation and self sabotaging.

then you turn your back for one second and everything implodes in on itself. and in lu tens case “turning your back” means literal death, as we all know. so the inevitable explosive fallout happens, and theres never gonna be any him coming home to fix it for the children AND the incompetent adults in the way that he always does, always has to.

#this is such a ramble my bad #like just this on top of my other more in detail hcs #there are so many factors that can ruin everything like it was all one big domino effect #that pressure will drive someone fucking nuts #my experience as the Eldest was already horrible if i was lu ten id just kms sorry #like theres no possible way #atla

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suffarustuffaru · 8 months

Note

Have you read one fanfic on AO3 titled Re:Incarnated? One of the most interesting and new aspects of this story for me was Subaru being reborn as a half-elf by Satella. I bet no one has ever thought and acted on that idea before, but there are some questions that bother me, for example, in the canon series there are moments where Subaru relies on Earth's modern technology and knowledge to solve difficult problems, Subaru becomes a half-elf in the world of Rezero and that means that he forgets about his previous life on Earth in Japan, and then when faced with the same dilemma How should Subaru solve it? But I feel these questions should go wait for the original author's update to get answered.

I have to say that fic opened a new door for my inspiration, and I also started to think about creating my own Subaru's elf or half-elf AU, and even imagined a crossover with Lord of the Rings (after all, there's a ton of Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter crossover fics on AO3 and fanfiction) Like one day Subaru is for whatever reason transported to Middle-earth by Satella accidentally and experienced something there, and then how he was found and adopted by the elves of Middle-earth, I think it would be very interesting how the elves of Middle-earth were surprised to find out that elves existed in the Otherworld, Subaru looks similar to them but differs in a few places,and then how Subaru got along with the elves of Middle-earth, and how he explored his own existence and self-worth,how would it be different than the canon series (My half-elf Subaru's character isn't too far off from the canon) Sorry I'm getting a bit carried away, I'm an incorrigible and extreme fan of crossover tropes, I hope you don't mind too much!

yoo sorry i took so long to reply to this ask but please know im delighted to see any asks in my inbox and pfft its interesting hearing about what people are thinking + what they find interesting themselves!!!

as for re:incarnated - i read a chapter or two AGES ago, so i really dont remember much of the fic sadly T^T but ill consider possibly going back to it and reading through it!!! i have a very long to read list though so ill see pfft. and yeah i think that fic was def like. one of if not the first fic to have like half elf subaru as an idea be explored and it also shows a Different method of the isekai trope (being reincarnated!!!) which is fun i think!! plus like. putting "re:" in fic titles is EXTREMELY extremely common in this fandom which i suppose makes sense given. the source material is called rezero. granted most of the time (this is just my opinion btw and i mean no harm by it HAH), to me a lot of fics with "re:" in the title dont justify why the "re:" is actually there. "Re:Incarnated" though is an EXTREMELY good use of the "re" imo. i love the pun <3

yeah as for the fic material itself - i do think its interesting to like change small bits of characters. not in the sense that youre changing like the Core of who they are but i Like seeing experimentations with characters to see like small differences. which is why i love aus (such as the literal canon aus we get in the form of the What Ifs and such!!). if that makes sense. that probably makes more sense in my head HAH anyway!! i always feel like changing a characters backstory is SO HARD to pull off without completely changing a character bc it shapes them a lot. but half elf subaru is definitely an idea that can be done in an interesting way imo and im curious to see how re:incarnated handled that. i know ive considered like emisuba roleswaps myself where emilia was isekaied from earth and subarus a half elf which was kind of like re:incarnated but also not like re:incarnated bc subaru had a similar backstory still but now with a fantasy world background (and vice versa for emilia) aljdfdlsjf. but yeah like i like seeing people experiment with these characters and make fun aus!!! and for me personally its hard for me to find ones i like in this fandom + this fandom doesnt do all the usual fic-isms (like there is next to zero soulmate aus for example HAH) so. interesting i suppose!!

as for your own half elf subaru au - im delighted that you were inspired by re:incarnated and are having fun with your own au as well!! :D while i basically know next to nothing about lord of the rings, your idea definitely sounds interesting, though i dont usually read crossovers that arent fusion aus - but i REALLY love the idea of like two different elf species from two different worlds going ??? at each other HAH thats fun stuff!! and i definitely like when despite all the AU things going on, characters like subaru arent too far off from canon in all the big important ways (ie his whole personality) bc for me, its like - theres a reason why we love these characters and i love trying to capture the heart of who they are even with au things, you know? :o but hah yeah ive made my own crossovers though in private (not to post, just for fun pfft) and i hope you keep having fun about your own half elf subaru au bc it sounds very neat <3 ty for sharing anon!! :D

#rezero #ask #i am so starved of fics in this fandom and i love seeing people be creative u know?? :O i always delight in seeing more even if i dont have #the time or energy or what have you to read everything pfft #thanks again for the ask anon this was fun!! :o #yeah if anyone else is seeing this of course if re incarnated sounds interesting to u give it a little read and leave a kudos and #maybe a little comment if u enjoy it or something <3 #i remember in my own half elf subaru au emilia was a former ice skater and had this whole horror show of a backstory given her family. like #if u know denji chainsaw man. its like that. iirc. yeah. bc thats how her backstory would be like if you translated it into modern day #and half elf subaru had similar backstory to canon its just fantasy-ified and also subaru is a huge nerd about hoshin and shit #and then emisuba ended up making their own isekai novel. long story.

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ladysomething · 1 month

Note

Hello! Back with more thoughts! I can already tell this is going to be way too long, I am so sorry in advance, dont feel like you have to respond!! But first of all, I saw an ask where you said you liked Taylor Swift and since you were at the AUS GP, I must ask- did you get to go to the Eras Tour in Australia? I will be incredibly jealous if you did!! Anyways, AHHH THIS CHAPTER!! I have so many thoughts, I wish I could share all of them, but that would actually turn this ask into a real essay and this will already be too long lol.

I LOVED the new things we learned about the Dreyma Ver-öld!!! So interesting that people still feel pain there, but in a lesser way (does the same thing apply when sensing emotions through a bond, like Max can do with Charles now?) and so interesting that they don’t visit it while in heat/rut. And very very interesting that injuries received in there exist in the real world too!! I am DYING to know what Max’s is like, since I get the feeling it’s not quite the safe space that Charles’ is.

THE COLLAR?! I’m seeing everyone freaking out about it, but not going to lie, I burst out laughing when I read that part. OF COURSE Max would be *that* petty and throw Charles’ comment back in his face like that. I am obsessed with them and the way you write them. And the collar is awful and humiliating, but I am also excited for its reappearance 😏

I was so excited for a Max POV last chapter, but I semi-take that back now because knowing both of their perspectives and seeing wildly wrong they both are about each other just makes me want to lock them in a room and barricade the door until they figure out what a communication is. I’m frustrated as hell now, but also absolutely living for the angst while I wait for them to figure out what words are!!

I think Charles is incredibly stupid for thinking Ferarri is going to care about him starving himself. And Charles clearly isn’t caring about himself beyond just trying to get away from Max right now, so it feels incredibly twisted that Max is kind of the only person who is knows what is going on with Charles and cares about Charles (even if he seems to care in an incredibly weird and fucked up way right now).

LOVE how susceptible you’ve made Charles is to alphas and how that fucks up the power dynamic EVEN more (the way he reacts to Pierre now???, the way he said that if Max had used his alpha voice, he would have been out for HOURS????!!!!) I have a feeling that this is a big reason that Max isn’t letting him go anywhere, and that this will become veryyyyy relevant (perhaps with a certain Mercedes mechanic 👀) later????

There’s SO much more I want to say but this is WAYYYY too long (sorry!!!), so super quick honourable mentions:

happy dance when I saw the fic title in the chapter!!

“Maybe it’ll come to fruition as soon as the Monaco GP” I am suddenly TERRIFIED for what you have planned for Charles’ home race

Pierre becoming visibly worried in response to Charles getting a maniacal little grin and coming up with an awful plan had me absolutely rolling I love the way you write everyone

Eek it was all so good!! I am so excited to eventually get to the point in this fic where we start getting answers instead of more questions but I LOVE this suspense you’re building!! Thank you for sharing <3

you've triggered me very deeply, because I did NOT GO TO THE ERAS TOUR. I COULDN'T GET TICKETS. I stg I cried for like 3 days when I missed out lol. and then also had a weep when I watched the movie. I will forever rage at people who went to like 5 nights because how the FUCK did they get those tickets!!!!

I'm so glad you like the dream world so much. there are some reallllyyyyyy fun scenes planned for that place.

zipped lips re the alpha voice!!!! but it's also going to be coming back!!!

Pierre thought "does Charles not remember that the last time he thought he had a great plan he got bought by Max" and you know what??? that was very real of him

I think the answers are going to start trickling in pretty soon!! I think? Well, I think so at least haha. the next Max POV gives some pretty good insight into a couple things.

#lestappen fic #where you go i go #viarinsblog ask

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medicinal-doll · 1 year

Text

Enough.

Title: Enough.

Daddy!Ransom drysdale x little!bratty!Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: You're sick and tired of Ransoms bullshit but he's not done with you yet

Warnings: ddlg themes, headspace switch, fluff, clit play,fingering,teasing,cursing,dom/sub dynamic

A/N: Writing this wiped me out and I dont know why (p.s. Thank you guys for liking my fics it means alot!)

*Please don't repost without permission If you use my writing as inspiration please ask first and credit me

..............

"You can't talk to me like this anymore!" you huff "I'm not just one of your little fucking dolls you can do what you want with ransom" you argue at your boyfriend while he stares at you with that nonchalant glare that he knows gets your blood boiling.

"Well, thats all good and fine doll but I dont remember telling you that you could fucking leave me"

"I'm done listening to you ransom" you turn around on your heels and storm out of the room.

"You wont get far~" he says in a sing song tone

"Shove it up your ass hugh!" you shout back

......

You find yourself at your apartment, and the fact that ransom bought it for you last year doesn't ease your anger. you sigh and slide down the wall filled to the brim with frustration. "God why does he have to be such A fucking dick all the time" you grumble.

In your wallowing you hear your phone buzz

"Hey girl!, where are you at?"

"Um... I'm at my apartment why?" you respond confused

"Are you seriously skipping out on my party!?" "I even said you could bring your rich asshole boyfriend "

Shit, you had forgotten all about her birthday party. the fight fogged up your thoughts so you didnt even get the chance to tell ransom about it.

"Yeah Um... No, I'll definitely be there don't worry" you say grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

"You better be...."

.........

"Hey!sorry I'm late" you embrace your friend in A warm hug.

"Girl don't even trip I'm just glad you made it"

"Hey where's your boyfriend?" She asks curiously

"Yeah about that I...."

"Right here!" ransom says waving a hand with sunglasses over his eyes. And his usual cocky smile, which normally would charm you but after the fight it makes your stomach turn.

Your stand there stunned with a surprised look on your face "oh and I got this for you" he hands her a flashy bag. probably containing some overpriced luxurious item "Can't forget the birthday girl" he says with A smile and your friend laughs "you know what ransom I knew you weren't so bad " your friend leaves to put her gift on the table.

Ransom meets your shocked eyes with an unreadable expression and the faintest tinge of a smile.

"Hey honey, did you miss me"

You scoff and walk off to find A drink. With ransom around, there's no way you're getting through this party sober.

You reach your hand towards the ladle to fill your red cup with the vodka punch. But ransom swoops up beside you grabbing the items from your hand, And makes your drink for you. He then he royally bows before offering the drink to you with both hands.

"My lady~" He says with a smirk and mischievous eyes

Your face scrunches up in annoyance "If you think this is gonna make up for this morning, you're dumber than you look"

You snatch the drink from his hands and walk off to another room

Ransom laughs to himself "there's my little grumpy bear..."

....

A short time later you find yourself in the living room leaning against the cream painted white walls, knee deep in a silly debate amongst friends.

Until you hear an ear catching clink ring out in the room.

As heads start to turn you smile in an excitement eager to hear the usual hilarious birthday speech.

Your eyes land on the speaker in question, and a sense of existential dread robs you of your mood and cheerful smile.

"Excuse me ladies, gentlemen" "and birthday girl" ransom gestures to your friend.

"I only require your attention for a few quick moments" he says as he slowly inches closer towards you, and you instinctively mold your back against the wall fearing what ransom has to say.

"My love" he leans down and kisses your hand, but you feel awkward when he doesn't let go "These past years we've been together have been absolutely beautiful"

"And with that I only have one thing to say"

Ransom gets down on one knee and you feel your spirit leave your body from the embarrassment.

"Honey will you marry me"

"I think I'm gonna be sick" you say to yourself then rush out of the room running upstairs into the first bathroom and puke your guts out in the toilet.Shortly after you hear footsteps then feel A presence behind you.

Comforting hands find themselves grabbing your hair holding it away from your face, While a soothing hand rubs small circles along your back.

When you get done spilling your guts you're drained mentally and physically. Between being mad at ransom,attending the party, and throwing up. your energy was gone, with your brain out of order for the rest of the evening.

"You're alright sweetie you're okay "ransom says in that caring tone reserved only to you his little girl. you feel your mental state start to slip ,so you turn around and cling onto ransom wrapping your hands around his neck and hiding your face in his shoulder curling up into him.

"Cmon princess let's get you home and get you cleaned up

You nod silently into him feeling too small to talk.

Ransom understands this and how you can go mute when you're feeling especially tiny, and he picks you up carrying you downstairs.

"Hey ransom what the hell was that" your friend questions and you squeeze tighter onto him. Ransom just rolls his eyes and her eyes land on you "Hey you okay girl?" ransom does not have the patience for this questioning in general, but his short temper drops to almost nothing when it comes to caring for his babygirl.

"She's fine" "thanks for the party" ransom answers shortly before storming out the front door to his ridculousy expensive car.

Not even 5 minutes into the car ride you're out like a light head bobbing up and down, drool threatening to spill from your pouty lips and ransom has a warm hand on your leg as he admires your cuteness.

You reach home and now its ransoms favourite part, waking you up. you're so bratty when woken up from a nap. you just get the nastiest little attitude just cause you're sleepy. It's like you turn into A little ransom jr. with your potty mouth.

"Gorgeous wake up we're home" ransom gently shakes your body, and you frown turning your face away from him snuggling more into the seatbelt. ransom sighs and unbuckles you "Cmon princess be good and let daddy take care of you"

"No...." you pout to yourself ransom laughs finding your behaviour cute and picks you up bridal style softly cooing at you so you dont throw a fit and heads inside.

.......

Ransom sits on the stool in the bathroom with you sleepily tucked in his strong arms, while the warm bath water runs with your favorite soap and bath bomb to entice you in.

"Time to get undressed little one" ransom says as he grabs the hem of your dress slowly lifting it up you squirm away and try to push his hands off you with what little strength you have.

"Be good..." Ransom says in A warning tone but that only rouses you from your sleepy state even further. Gaining some of your big girl strength back you struggle against his prying hands with more vigor.

"Ow!" Ransom delivers A harsh slap to your backside which make you regress back into little girl space, and you sniffle softly as ransom removes your clothing.

After your pink panties hit the floor ransom stands with you in his arms and goes to set you in the warm water "Daddy no!" You cling onto his neck for dear life and ransom giggles silently to himself "glad to see you're finally awake honeybun" "but you gotta get in the bath so daddy can get you all clean okay pretty girl" your fight leaves your body at his praises but you still hold onto him.

"Baby" his voice darkens and you quietly tremble at the change of his tone

"You've been pretty fucking bratty to your owner today" he says as he threateningly caresses your bum "All that big girl mouth you gave to me this morning and at the party" he places a kiss to your temple and lowers his mouth to your ear "So don't take my kindness as forgiveness honey your still gonna get your punishment"

Your eyes widen at the buzzword " No papa! Not A punishment anything but that!"

You whine into his shoulder "M'sorry" ransom comfortingly pats your butt

"Well then you can start by getting in the bath like your daddy told you to hun" you whimper and slowly lower a leg down into the bubbly warm water and ransom follows your movement by slowly easing you down into the tub.

You give into the warm sensation and instantly relax "close your eyes baby" ransom fills a cup with the warm water with a fresh rosy aroma and delicately pours it over your head, you look up at ransom with innocent eyes "Daddy... Are you mad at me?" you question as he scrubs your back being suprisingly careful with you, ransom pauses for a second in thought..

"You know I'll always love you honey no matter how hard of a time you give me" ransom leans in and peppers your face with kisses and you giggle.

You tilt your head in confusion as he reaches for something from the counter.

He holds the toothbrush in front of your face and squeezes the minty paste onto the bristles "open up for me hun" you slightly part your mouth and ransom sticks the toothbrush in, bristles slowly gliding over your teeth.

When ransoms done, he grabs a cup and begins filling it with water then holds it to your face "swish this around and spit it back in the cup for me dolly"

you follow his instructions swishing the liquid around before letting it all go back into the cup "good girl" he ruffles your wet hair, then ransom pulls the bath stopper from the tub and turns his attention back to you.

"Alright cutie arms up" you lift them and ransom wraps the baby pink towel snug against your form, and picks you up.you lean into him as water from your hair drips onto his shirt.

........

Ransom sits down on the edge of the bed with you in his lap. a few minutes pass as your eyes flutter open and closed every now and then. until you feel A hand grab a hold of the soft flesh of your thigh and roughly part your legs. you look at ransom in curiosity and go to speak but A firm hand clasps itself around your mouth.

Ransoms fingers dance around your inner thigh inching dangerously close to your princess parts "Daddy?" You try to say but it gets muffled by ransoms big hand "Shhh princess, you didn't think I'd forgotten about you punishment did you?" ransoms fingers brush over your clit and an indescribable chill runs up your spine and you whimper.

"I know you're tired baby so daddy's gonna take it easy on you" he starts moving his index finger in slow circles around the hood of your clit and you try to shake his hand from your mouth, but it's not budging "All I need is A sincere apology from you hun" "And daddy's gonna play with your little girl button until he gets it, okay sweetness?" He removes his hand from your mouth panting lightly ,and you yelp when he pinches your clit between his fingers "I wanted an answer to that baby"

"yes daddy..." you whimper softly and he slaps your clit "Ah!" You cry out "louder doll I couldnt hear you" "Yes! Papa!" You whine and hide your face in to his shoulder softly breathing in his intoxicating cologne "Good girl, Now tell daddy how sorry you are for your behaviour today" he says as he rolls your clit between his thumb and index finger

"Daddy I'm sorry..." he pauses his motions "for what honey" he says blankly

"F-for...um.." "Ah!" Another harsh slap hits your clit and ransom speeds his fingers up rubbing your clit at a mind numbing pace "Silly little girl doesn't even know what she's apologizing for" you barely hear what he is saying as your eyes water at the pleasure between your legs.

ransom senses this and leans his head down to your ear and speaks to you in that low dominant voice he knows gets you worked up "Babydoll.." your ears perk up "If you cum before I get my apology, I'll beat your ass red and raw till you scream how sorry you are" "Daddy doesn't have to do that right? Or is someone still feeling disobedient....."

"No! I'll say it please..." he slows down his ministrations and you sniffle "Go on honey, daddys listening"

"M'sorry daddy"

"For?" He questions

"F-for being A bad girl and being bratty to you"

"Aww see hun, that wasn't so bad was it" he wipes the tear that threatens to fall from your eye and kisses your head "daddy forgives you bunny...." ransom says as he dives two thick fingers into your juicy cunt and starts moving them up towards your g spot, and you scream "Daddy!" As you moan in pleasure and involuntarily writhe your body against him.

Ransoms fingers brush up against A certain sensitive spot and your mind goes blank "Ah- No! I said it daddy you promised!!" You sob into his shoulder "You were so naughty for me baby" He coos as he glides his fingers over that place sparking fireworks in your belly "trying to leave your daddy baby why honey"

You slip further into your small state as high pitched moans leave your mouth head too fuzzy to respond "Has daddy not been nice enough to you hm?" "Maybe I need to start babying you more honey"

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you mutter his name again and again in a trance of pleasure "Cmon sweet girl cum for daddy so I can put you to bed" Ransom adds A third finger into your soaked pussy and rubs your clit in small circles with the other.

"Go on honey give daddy your orgasm, drench my hands and lap with that little princess cunt"

"Its not a princess cunt!" You whine at him feeling bratty again from his teasing "Aw baby yes it is, it's so wet and so tiny all for me" he lifts your head up to kiss your face, you blush and shy away from him hiding in his shoulder again to pout.

Ransom brushes over your clit one last time, and you bite down on his shoulder to muffle A loud cry as your body convulses around him. ransom runs a soothing hand up and down your waist slowly coaxing you through your orgasm, and slows down his fingers inside of you.

when your breath stills and you stop shaking ransom takes his fingers out of you with A pop. you lift your head up to look at him, and you see him lick every last drop of your cum from his fingers like it's his last meal. Then he delivers A sickeningly sweet kiss to your lips, but you pull away and look down in guilt.

"what is it darling" he asks as he rocks you gently back and forth "M'not ready to get married..." you look up at him through your bambi lashes, and he just laughs recalling the events from a few hours ago.

"I wasn't serious hun, I know you're not ready to marry me yet" "Would be nice though" he kisses your cheek as your expression fills with uncertainty "then why did you propose in front of all those people?"

"I dont know, I guess I thought that it would make you change your mind about leaving...."

"You made yourself look like a fool for me?" You quirk up at him and Ransom laughs giving you the gentlest kiss on your lips "Over and over again doll" he whispers to you.

"You got the spoiled little rich boy wrapped around your finger" he sighs and you giggle

"I was never gonna leave you daddy, I was just tired of you bossing me around all the time..."

"I'm sorry angel, you want me to stop babying you so much?"

You giggle at him and kiss his nose

"No daddy, I'll always be your little girl" you smile at him and he grins right back at you "Okay doll, time for bed" Ransom places one last kiss on your forehead before picking you up leaving the room to get his girl in her pj's and tucked into bed.

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark!ransom x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #x little!reader

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