#And there have been so many good races this year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harrytheehottie · 2 days

Text

JUNO

WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST this is a part of the short & sweet fic challenge @harry-on-broadway let me know what you think 💘 hope you enjoy!

The sun was casting a warm golden glow through the windows of your living room as you sat on the couch. Harry was in the kitchen making your nightly tea as you rested on the sofa. It was a peaceful evening, like many that you have shared over the last three years. This familiar feeling and routine was something you cherished especially with the hectic schedule Harry’s life could bring.

A year ago, he finished his two year long world tour. It was an incredible feat and one that was an emotional roller coaster since it began. He had his entire life planned from the minute we all went into lockdown to the final show in Italy and these last seven months were spent just making up for lost time. He was always home when you came back from work, he was the one that was traveling on your schedule and your terms. It was a great change from how your relationship was before. You didn’t have to anticipate the day that he was going to go away for weeks at a time because you were a part of that decision making now and it only made the two of you stronger as a unit.

You glanced at the framed photos on the mantel: you and Harry in various stages over the last three years--goofing around backstage at Coachella, the night he turned his green room in MSG into a home theater and begged security to let you two spend the night after you just got off a six hour flight to surprise him for his last show. It was the simple moments that were your favorite, the picture of you walking through the Heath, a cup of coffee and pastries in tow for your favorite weekend tradition of a Saturday morning picnic.

This was the first year that you were able to think about the future just as it pertained to you and Harry. You didn’t have to think about how your life decisions factored into anyone else's. You always knew you wanted to have a family. He was always going above and beyond for the children in his life not just by spoiling them with gifts but checking up on them and making sure they knew that he was always there. And this became more apparent when he became an Uncle. He was always the first to offer up babysitting so his sister and her partner could enjoy some quality time, even making the trek up to Cheshire to watch his cousin's children if they asked.

So, when Harry walked back into the living room with a cup of tea for you and snacks for himself you sort of blurted it out before you had the chance to second guess the right time for this conversation.

“I’m ready to have a baby.”

Harry’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard, “What?” almost second guessing what you just said.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing realizing that you are not going to be able to take those words back. “I’ve just been thinking, we have talked about the future a lot as this far-fetched idea but we’re here now and…” you paused looking up at him, his expression shifting from the initial shock, he leaned closer, taking your hands in his. You knew how Harry worked and the subtle shift in energy was all you needed to continue, “I know not to think, I know I’m ready… for that next step.”

A moment of silence stretched between you as he processed your words “You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you admitted, looking into his eyes. “I can’t imagine going through that journey with anyone else. And it just feels good right now, us, we are so good right now and there is just no reason to wait.”

Harry’s expression softened, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “It’s a big step, probably one of the biggest steps we will ever take together.”

“Will we ever truly be ready?” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Life is unpredictable, but I want this with you.I want to build a family together.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window. “I’ve thought about it too,” he finally said, turning back to you. “I want that. I’ve always wanted it honestly. I remember the first time you met Ruby and the way she was instantly drawn to you. S’probably when the thought first crossed my mind.”

You remembered that day. You were so incredibly nervous to meet Harry’s close group of friends. It was Ruby -- his God daughter’s 4th birthday. You had only been dating for around three months at that point. You remember stressing about what to buy her as a gift and even though Harry promised no one would think twice if you showed up empty handed. You still scoured the internet looking up every list of ‘best gifts for a 4 year old girl’ and settled on a Peppa Pig Camper Playset with all the characters. And to say it was a hit was an understatement. The two of you still joke about how as soon as Ruby opened her present she demanded that you stay after to set up the toy and play with her.

Harry remembers watching the way you were interacting with Ruby and how her father, Ben made a comment about how he had never seen Harry so fixated on someone before like he had you. It was still early days but he always went back to that moment and how it led you to where you are now.

“So, are we ready to do this?” You asked with a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice.

“You know, if we really want to be serious about this. We’re going to have to start practicing.” Harry teased pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his body against yours as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative like he was emphasizing the importance of the moment you just shared.

You pulled away first, a smirk on your face, “Hmm.. practice? I’m feeling a little tired right now,” You teased with a wide yawn stretching your arms over your head. The playful banter that you know drives him crazy. Harry moves his hands to cup your face, his thumb glazing over your lips again, “C’mere” he whispers. He begins kissing down your neck, leaving small kisses along his path from his lips. You move your hands through his hair, as he scoots back on the couch, pushing your shirt up in the process and you help to take it off.

The kisses continue. He’s moving down your neck, between your cleavage and he stops right at the top of your stomach. His hands that were holding yours moved to touch your belly — picturing what was going to happen next. The commitment to a family and how you would be the home for his future baby. You were almost tearing up at the sight of him and just how careful he was already, always putting your needs first and making you his priority.

“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby,” You whisper as Harry moves his hands to the waist of your pants. You are already ready for him and he knew it just by how much you were wiggling under him trying to get him to move faster.

“I want you,” he says in a low breathy tone before helping you get your pants off. You move your weight onto your forearms to get a good view of him. You watch as Harry slides your underwear to the side, a rush of pleasure washing over the both of you. “So wet for me…” leaving his lips as he moves his fingers up and down your slit. The juxtaposition of the sexyness and tenderness of the moment right as he slid one and quickly two digits in pushing his fingers in and out. The pleasure washing over your body, the whimper of ‘Oh yes’ and ‘Baby’ a moan escaping your lips as you rode out your first orgasm.

His lips are immediately back on yours as you slide your hand into his pants pushing his joggers off trying to keep every part of your body touching. After being in a relationship for three years you still periodically used contraceptives especially when you are in the thick of it with his work never wanting anything to come in the way of jeopardizing this unspoken tension between the two of you. And tonight, was going to be and feel different, no more trying to locate the last spot you left condoms going on stretches of time of just trying the process. This was intentional and you felt the mutual giddyness as you slid your hand down his length pumping him once, twice, three times before Harry is ready for you.

“M’not gonna last very long,” he says before aligning your hips before pushing in deep. Taking a couple of deep breaths as you move your hips along with Harry as you adjust to the familiar feeling of him inside you. Harry leans his head toward you leaving kisses all over him, your nails dragging up and down his back.

“Tell me it feels good,” You whispered the sounds of your mutual pleasure echoing in the room.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, always s’fuckin good” Harry was moving faste and harder meeting your gaze right before letting himself go inside you. His body collapsing on top of you as both tried to catch your breath from the pleasure. You had your arms wrapped around his body wanting to keep the warmth of his body on you forever.

You cleaned yourselves up and spent the rest of the night thinking about your future and how you were going to take that next step forward. Harry was your safe space and you were his. You both knew that this next step forward would be unlike anything you’ve done before but you were both ready, as a team to make this next step.

And one day, you will be in this same living room waiting for Harry to finish making a bottle for your future baby - and boy, could you not wait.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles #god... haven't used those tags in a minute! pls be nice and tell me what you think <3 out of my comfort zone a little..

157 notes · View notes

dolliethv · 3 days

Text

Bad idea.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! You think this is a damn bad idea, but stupid Jude Bellingham makes you fall into his trap. It's not such a bad idea tho...

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 2,8k

It was a warm summer night, the moon shining brightly in the sky, bathing your room in a soft silver glow. You still lived at your parents' house because it was actually comfortable for you since you were in your second year at university.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of Jude Bellingham, the young footballer who had captured your attention since the first day you met.

You with your long brown hair spread out on the pillow and your big eyes closed as, with headphones, you listened to the soft music emanating from your phone. Suddenly, the sound of a notification broke the silence. You turned, anxious, and looked at the screen. It was a text from Jude.

Jude: Are you awake? Come to the window, I have a surprise for you.

Your heart raced. You had been playing tug-of-war for weeks, a seductive dance filled with flirtations and barely contained tensions. But what intrigued you the most was that Jude knew exactly how to tease you—damn bastard.— You got out of bed, your movements filled with nervousness and excitement, you didn't want to admit it out loud.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair was a bit messy, you were dressed in little white cotton shorts, and a long sleeved t-shirt that had a little lace along the neck. —I'm not getting ready for this idiot— you thought.

You walked over to the window and opened the curtain.

Jude was there, leaning against his car—not very discreetly—, a mischievous smile on his face. His eyes sparkled with a mix of defiance and mischief. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of desire. You felt caught between the excitement of seeing him and the fear of what that meant.

"Couldn't you wait until tomorrow? —you asked, trying to hide your excitement.

"And miss the chance to see you? “I wouldn't do it for the world,” Jude replied, his voice soft but heavy with innuendo. He moved closer to the window, the night air accentuating the tension between them.

“You know this is a bad idea,” you said, although the way your heart was beating in your chest said otherwise.

“Why?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Because there are rules we shouldn't break? We’ve always been good at breaking them.”

You crossed your arms, although you knew that gesture only accentuated your figure and your breasts. Jude watched you, his gaze scanning every detail, as if memorizing your essence. It was a battle of wills, and you were enjoying every second of it.

“I don't want you to get into trouble because of me.” Your voice sounded softer, as if fear was starting to mix with desire.

“Don't worry about me.” His smile widened. “I'm used to trouble. Besides, I think you and I have some issues to sort out."

You felt an electric current run through your body. They had argued many times about their relationship, a push and pull of conflicting feelings, and every time they got close, the tension was palpable. Jude always knew how to push your boundaries, how to make you feel alive.

“I don't know if we should…” you started to say, but Jude cut you off.

“Should we what? “Ignore the attraction between us?” he said. His voice was a soft whisper that vibrated with seduction.

“It's not just about that…” you blurred out, feeling caught between desire and reason.

“What if I told you I’ve been thinking about you all night?” Jude said, his tone defiant.

You felt a chill run down your spine. The way Jude looked at you, as if he could see past your skin, made your defenses melt. Despite your logic, the part of you that wanted to venture into the abyss grew stronger and stronger.

“It could be a mistake…” you mumbled, feeling like you were about to fall into an abyss.

“A mistake or an opportunity?” he asked. You could see every nuance of his expression, the way his lips curved into a flirtatious smile. “It's time we stopped thinking so much.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting your thoughts to stop spinning and open the damn door to Jude. It was easy to get carried away by the connection you shared, but doubt assailed you. What if this wasn't just a game for Jude? However, the excitement of the unknown pushed you towards him.

“You have to promise me that you won't leave me in the lurch if this gets complicated,” you said, your eyes fixed on his, searching for sincerity.

“I promise, but…” Jude said, his tone of voice changing to a more serious one. “If I leave you, it will be because you walk away first.”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “Always making it personal.”

“The personal is what makes this exciting,” Jude replied, his voice like a seductive siren song.

Finally, curiosity and longing won out. You took a deep breath and, putting aside your doubts, decided to open the door. Jude smiled widely as he entered your house, the difference in size very noticeable. The night promised to be much more than just a simple encounter.

Both went up to the room in silence, because your parents were a few rooms away from yours.

You locked the door, turned around, and Jude pinned you against the door, letting out all the lust you had both been holding back.

You closed your eyes, giving in to the feeling of Jude's mouth moving along your skin, placing a kiss in the hollow of your neck before moving on to your other collarbone.

You were having a hard time suppressing your needs. You and Jude had sex frequently, but right now he felt so eager, like he had been deprived of it for years.

You caught his own lips between your teeth, feeling the hairs on his neck stand up. Your body was on alert, just hoping your parents hadn't heard all that commotion.

Jude lifted you up with ease as he continued to kiss you, and placed you on your bed.

On top of you was the man who had caused your world to turn upside down, burying his fat cock in your exposed thighs and marking your neck as he pleased.

With a series of kisses Jude reached your breasts, where he joined his lips with your left pink nipple, grabbing your waist at the same time, obviously prepared for the reaction he would have.

And his grip worked perfectly, holding you while you tried to lift your hips and fuck in the air between Jude's big legs.

Oh, this is something you would never admit out loud, but you loved Jude restricting your movements. It drove you crazy to see how strong and big he was, how easily he could hold you down, immobilize your arms and cage your body with his.

Bellingham went back and forth between your tits, sucking them into his mouth, making you gasp and squirm beneath him, eager to feel more of his touch.

"All I can think of is ways to make you squirm and shake." The dark-skinned boy said.

You weren't able to give a proper response because the boy was in the process of doing exactly what he said - making you squirm and shake.

"Jude, we shouldn't" You said.

"Yeah, I know we shouldn't, baby but, we will."

Fuck everything. You didn't want him to stop.

"When my hands get tired..." Jude started again.

He slid his lips down, leaving small kisses along the way.

"I'll use my tongue."

Your hips bucked slightly at the implication. You knew Bellingham's hands didn't tire easily.

"When my tongue gets tired..."

He kissed your stomach.

"I'll use my dick."

Shit.

A series of desperate sighs left your mouth, getting louder when Jude moved so that his chest was pressed against your cunt.

"And when I can't use my body anymore..."

He dragged one of his large hands between your thighs, reaching under the tiny shorts you wore, beginning to caress your pussy over the panties, making it drip onto the fabric.

"Let's just say I can think of plenty of ways to make you beg without moving a single inch."

Your entire body spasmed with desire. You began to receive light touches on your clit despite your longing for him to put two fingers inside you, jerking you hard and roughly.

“Please,” you moaned high and needy. “Please, Jude.”

The aforementioned hummed in approval and, using only his thumb, began to rub your clit without any cloth in between, that simple action causing you to get much wetter than you usually did.

“You’re quite sensitive.” He murmured, digging his thumb into your clit and squeezing it, making you cry out. “It would hurt. A lot.”

Flashbacks of your first time together reappeared in your head. You had three orgasms that night and each and every one of them made him more sensitive than the last.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he said, as he began to put two fingers into your wet pussy. You moaned loudly, you couldn't stand it.

Jude covered your mouth with one hand, fucking you with his long, big fingers, your moans muffled against his palm. With his remaining hand he caressed your curves.

He saw your eyes roll back, growling as he made another few short thrusts with his fingers, much softer than the previous ones, but just as accurate. His goal was to drive you crazy.

Sweat bathed their bodies, the smell of sex filled the room.

Your tears wet Jude's hand.

Your legs tightened from overexcitement. Jude continued to fuck you with his fingers, speeding up and slowing down, the watery sound of your fluids being heard in the process. Jude slid his mouth down to your marked neck, licking and biting everything in his path, claiming you once again as his. Only his.

You tried not to moan for real, but you couldn't do anything about it when fucking Jude Bellingham was manhandling your little pussy with his fingers.

"Shh baby, you don't want to wake your parents, do you?" He said playfully, you glared at him, giving him a slap on his bare chest.

Jude pulled his fingers away after having prepared you.

He positioned himself between your shaking legs and pulled out his big fat cock. He rested his arms on either side of your head to keep from crushing you.

He thrust hard, moaning into your mouth, tilting your heads to deepen the kiss, tangling your tongues, creating a loud and obscene battle.

Did you regret what you were doing? Shit, of course not. Your body was happy, he was happy.

The back of the bed lightly hit the wall of the room, both enjoying the moment, burning in those flames of pleasure and excitement, falling again into temptation.

Both separated more agitated than before, a thread of saliva joining their swollen mouths.

"Baby I want more, could you give it to me?" you begged, your pussy ached, you needed to come "please, could you do that for me?…"

Jude let out a growl, taking you in his arms, getting up from the bed. Bumping your back against the nearest wall, he heard you gasp at the change in temperature.

And as he chastely kissed your lips he proudly raised his hips, entering and removing his big cock from your pussy.

He wanted to stay there until he died.

Your insides were so warm and tight. Like paradise. A paradise for his cock.

"You like me fucking you while you risk your parents hearing you, huh?" The dark-skinned boy said. He brought his hands to your round ass cheeks, your skin soft against his rough palms. He let out a loud smack that echoed throughout the room. —damn self-centered ass— you thought.

You tried —really tried— to moan lowly, but it was impossible, letting out high-pitched moans, naming that tall, robust man, so manly that his legs shook and he acted like a little girl in love.

You both came moaning loudly. Jude's heavy balls slammed into you, he sighed as he felt his cum fill every corner of you. He felt you tremble even more against his body.

While you whimpered and purred like a kitten when the older man began to move, this time softly, but to try to make sure no drop escaped. Your breasts caressed each other due to your labored breathing. Oh god, it had been fantastic.

"Forget about it, yeah, forget about him, yeah, forget about me"

#jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham stories #jb5 #spotify #jude bellingham #jude x fem reader #bellingham latest #jb5 x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham smut #jude #bellingham x reader #jude victor willliam bellingham #Spotify

72 notes · View notes

seongwars · 1 day

Text

ardently | ii

Pairing: Viscount!Choi San x Countess!Reader AU: non-idol | regency au Summary: After falling victim to one of Choi San’s many wagers, you vowed to a life of eternal spinsterhood. However, when the Choi family faces the imminent threat of losing their estate, the very man you swore you would never forgive re-enters your life. Word Count: 6K Warnings: angst, use of firearms, mentions of fox hunting, broken limbs, incorrect use of regency terms (sorry history buffs)

Fic Masterlist

The late summer air felt stifling to San as he rode toward your family’s estate, a place he had visited many times before, though now it filled him with a growing sense of dread. The annual hunt hosted was an event of grand tradition—one that the ton anticipated. Yet for him, the weight of this particular invitation was heavy, almost suffocating. It wasn’t the hunt itself, nor the pressure to perform that unnerved him.

It was you.

San had always been someone who commanded attention, whether he sought it or not. His charm, once something he wielded effortlessly in your presence, was now a weapon that had turned against him.

He had spent countless nights over the years replaying that moment in the garden, as if by thinking about it enough, he could somehow undo it. But no matter how many times he revisited it, the outcome was the same. Whenever you were near, it felt as though the air itself had grown colder. You would sweep past him at gatherings, head held high, never sparing him a second glance.

The worst part was that he deserved it.

He had turned something precious—a genuine connection—into a game, a fleeting moment of amusement at the behest of his peers. And in doing so, had ruined any chance of earning your trust or your friendship, perhaps even more.

The Kang estate came into view, an impressive silhouette against the sky, and the knots in San’s stomach tightened. Your family’s grounds stretched for miles, the rolling hills and dense forests an ideal setting for a hunt. As they approached, the sounds of hounds baying echoed across the grounds, mixing with the distant chatter of arriving guests.

The Choi family’s carriage came to a halt, and as San dismounted, his eyes scanned the scene before him. Servants and attendants hurried across the grounds tending to the horses and greeting guests, while members of the ton gathered in small clusters, discussing the day's upcoming events.

It was then that he saw you, standing a short distance away with your shotgun, its polished barrel gleaming in the morning light. San froze as you lifted the gun with ease, pointing it directly at him, as though you were sizing him up—not just as a target for the hunt, but for something far more personal.

Your expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in your eyes, one that sent a chill racing down his spine. His heart skipped a beat, every muscle in his body tensing as he wondered if you were serious or simply toying with him.

You cocked the shotgun with a sharp, mechanical click, testing its weight as you held his gaze. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. San swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, unsure whether to laugh it off or raise his hands in surrender.

"Y/N, put that thing down!" your mother chided, hurrying over to meet the newly arrived guests.

You slowly lowered the gun, your expression still unreadable, but the glint in your eyes sent a chill down his spine, making it clear your aim had been intentional. A subtle hint of a smirk tugged at your lips before you turned to greet San’s parents.

"Viscount Choi, Viscountess!" your mother greeted warmly, gliding forward with her customary elegance. "It’s so good to see you both. Thank you for coming."

"We wouldn’t have it any other way!" Viscount Choi chortled, though his eyes flickered briefly to you, still holding your shotgun with a quiet air of defiance. "It seems your daughter is eager for the hunt."

Your mother let out a light, practiced laugh, though San could see the subtle tightness in her expression. "Yes, well, she’s always been spirited." She turned toward you, casting a glance meant to remind you of the decorum expected today.

"Viscount, Viscountess," you greeted smoothly, your tone polite but detached. "I look forward to your participation in today’s events," you continued, your tone betraying no warmth, only obligation. "I wager we’ll have a successful hunt."

It was clear to San that, for you, the hunt was a game, but not in the way it was meant to be. It wasn’t about the thrill of the chase or the spoils—it was about proving a point. And today, it seemed, that point was directed squarely at him.

His mother, Viscountess Choi, sensing the strain, stepped forward to fill the silence. "Your estate is as breathtaking as ever, Lady Kang," she said with a warm smile, her eyes sweeping across the expansive grounds. "The weather is truly remarkable—we are very fortunate to be here!”

She turned slightly, gesturing toward the gathering of other guests, who were milling about near the stables, chatting and preparing for the hunt. The sharp glances of attendants could be seen, tending to the horses and ensuring all was in order for the event. Lady Kang’s expression brightened, her words now carrying the unmistakable energy of a seasoned hostess eager to see the event unfold smoothly.

"Come," your mother said, motioning toward the main group. "Let us join the rest of the guests."

Your mother, ever the perfect hostess, shifted her attention toward Viscount Choi with a smile. "Viscount," she said, her tone warm and accommodating, "we have arranged for an attendant for both you and Mr. Choi to ensure that everything is to your liking during the hunt. They will be available to assist with anything you need."

San nodded appreciatively, returning the smile. "You are too kind, Lady Kang. It is always a pleasure to be here. I look forward to the hunt."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your irritation as you turned on your heel and headed toward the stables. San’s words echoed in your mind, hollow and rehearsed, like lines from a script. His charming smile felt disingenuous—just another part of the game he was playing.

"Pointing a gun at your guests? Bold, even for you,” came a familiar voice from behind you, dripping with amusement.

You turned to see Duke Jeong Yunho striding toward you, his eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he had just caught you in the middle of some mischief he couldn’t wait to comment on.

"He’s lucky I didn’t pull the trigger," you said lightly, your tone playful but carrying an edge that let Yunho know you weren’t entirely joking.

"You’ve certainly mastered the art of making a memorable impression. Though I have to wonder—were you aiming for him or his pride?"

You shot him a sideways glance, though it was more amused than annoyed. Yunho had always been this way—playful, quick-witted, and never one to miss an opportunity to tease you. Yet he was observant, capable of reading between the lines. It was part of the reason you found yourself oddly comfortable around him.

"He needed a reminder of where he stands."

Yunho laughed, a rich and infectious sound that drew the attention of a few nearby guests. "Don’t you think you might be pushing him a little too hard? Poor Mr. Choi looked like he was about to faint."

You scoffed, though your lips twitched in a small smile, betraying the hint of amusement in your eyes. "He’s not that delicate, and you know it."

San stood a few paces away, watching the casual banter between you and Yunho, his jaw tightening involuntarily. He told himself it shouldn’t matter. Yunho was a close friend of your brother, someone you’d grown up with. Of course, you’d be close. It was all perfectly innocent. Rational, even but still—why did it bother him so much?

"The future viscount has arrived!" Seonghwa’s voice rang out with unmistakable enthusiasm, cutting through the buzz of the gathering crowd. His face lit up in a wide grin as he spotted San approaching the rest of the hunting party. With open arms, he strode toward his friend, his usual air of refinement momentarily replaced by genuine warmth.

San’s tension eased, if only slightly, as Seonghwa approached. There was something grounding about his friend’s presence—steady and dependable. Seonghwa was always able to read the room, and his welcoming embrace was a reminder that not all the interactions today would be as strained as those with you.

"What kept you so long?"

San managed a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Just... got held up." His gaze briefly flickered to where you stood, chatting with Yunho a few yards away.

"Well, you’re here now, and just in time." Seonghwa gestured toward the members of the ton gathered near the stables, their horses saddled and ready, attendants bustling about to ensure the guests’ preparations were perfect. The hounds barked excitedly in the background, eager to begin as their handlers worked to keep them in check.

The attendant led San's horse over, reins in hand, and with a curt nod of thanks, he vaulted into the saddle with practiced ease. From his new vantage point, he could see the rest of the hunting party more clearly. There was a certain energy in the air—the guests were buzzing with excitement for the hunt, eager to prove their skill and prowess.

You were mounting your own horse, your posture elegant and composed, with the shotgun you’d teased him with earlier slung over your shoulder. San’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than he intended, tracing the lines of your frame as you adjusted in the saddle. Yunho was, of course, right beside you, making a comment that drew a laugh from you—one that felt too comfortable, too familiar.

"I don’t blame her for fancying him," Wooyoung sighed dreamily, his voice laced with mockery. San shot him a pointed glance, his irritation clear, but Wooyoung just grinned, completely unapologetic as always.

“What? If I were her, I’d rather be a Duchess than a Viscountess,” Wooyoung continued, his grin widening.

It’s not like that between them, he told himself firmly, trying to quell the unease rising in his gut. He wasn’t one to let Wooyoung’s jabs get to him, but somehow, this one lingered, leaving him uneasy and more unsettled than he cared to admit.

“I see you lot are still making my sister the topic of all your conversations,” a voice interrupted, sharp yet amused.

San's heart dropped, and Wooyoung froze, his easy grin faltering as both of them turned to face Earl Kang. Yeosang, perched on his horse with the quiet authority he always exuded, regarded them with a knowing look. His sharp eyes—so much like yours—flicked between San and Wooyoung, his lips twitching in a faint, almost smug, smirk.

"Earl Kang!" Wooyoung chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, clearly unsettled under Yeosang’s sharp gaze. "We were just... discussing how Ms. Kang is bound to have a successful hunt. Nothing serious."

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable, though his tone remained deceptively light. "But of course," he mused, voice smooth but edged with warning. "My sister does have quite the shot. We wouldn’t want any foxes slipping away now, would we?"

The subtle threat hung in the air, and San and Wooyoung exchanged a quick glance, both knowing full well not to push their luck any further.

“Well then, gentlemen,” Yeosang said after a moment, his tone polite but the undercurrent unmistakable. His eyes lingered on San, a beat too long, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Best of luck to you both.”

The hunt master’s horn echoed in the distance, its deep, resonant call signaling the start of the chase. The party moved smoothly into action, the steady rhythm of galloping hooves and excited murmurs weaving through the forest as they ventured deeper into the woods. Birds scattered from the treetops, startled by the thundering riders, while the crisp scent of pine and earth filled the air.

San rode just ahead of you, his posture effortlessly confident, flanked by Seonghwa and Wooyoung. The group was focused, each rider scanning the dense underbrush with sharp eyes and heightened senses, poised to react at the slightest hint of movement.

Tension filled the air, the thrill of the hunt creeping into the silence. Earlier, lighthearted banter had filled the morning, but now it had faded into a hushed anticipation. The excitement simmered beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing minute. Even Wooyoung, typically the most talkative, had fallen silent, his gaze sharp and calculating, tracking every rustle of leaves and shadow in the trees.

The pace of the group slowed as they approached a small clearing, the riders fanning out to search for any signs of movement in the brush. There was a hum of anticipation, the soft murmur of voices as everyone prepared for the hunt to truly begin. San guided his horse forward, keeping to the edge of the group, his eyes scanning the treeline intensely.

“The hounds have picked up a scent,” Yeosang muttered beside you, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the distant trees. “There’s something close.”

The horses were growing restless, sensing the change in atmosphere as well. Then, suddenly, from the front of the group, the hunt master called out. A flurry of motion erupted as a fox darted from the underbrush, its red coat flashing in the sunlight as it bolted toward the far side of the clearing. The hounds sprang to life, their barks rising in excitement as riders urged their horses forward.

San was among the first to move, kicking his horse into a swift gallop. He tore ahead with ease, his figure a blur as he charged into the chase, flying across the field. You followed close behind, urging your horse to keep pace with his. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as each stride brought you closer. When you finally caught up, a surge of satisfaction spurred you on, driving you to push even harder. The two of you were neck and neck, the thrill of the chase electrifying the space between you.

But just as you burst through the clearing, a sharp shout pierced the air.

You whipped around, eyes widening in shock as San’s horse reared violently. For a split second, it seemed like San might regain control, his hands gripping the reins tightly as he fought to steady the stallion. But in a wild flurry of dust, the horse bucked again, more violently this time, and San was thrown from the saddle. He hit the ground with brutal force, the sickening crack of bone ringing out as his arm twisted unnaturally beneath him.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched San hit the ground, the sound of his fall resonating in your ears. Time seems to slow for a moment, your mind struggling to process what just happened. The sight of him lying there, unmoving, his arm twisted at a terrible angle, sends a wave of panic crashing over you.

You glance around desperately, searching for someone—anyone—to help. But it’s just you and him, and the terrifying silence between. You dismount quickly, hands trembling as your feet hit the ground. For a moment, you hesitated, the bitterness that had long simmered between you both rising to the surface. But it feels distant now, irrelevant in the face of his pain.

"San?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. Your hand hovered above him, shaking as you reached for him, desperate for any sign of life. "San, can you hear me?"

He groaned softly, the sound weak but laced with pain, and you instinctively reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. San tensed, a sharp, pained wince crosses his face, and he goes still again, clearly unable to move with his arm twisted unnaturally beneath him. His breaths are shallow and rapid, each one shaky as if he’s fighting just to hold on.

“It’s going to be fine,” you whispered, voice trembling but desperate to sound steady, though you weren’t even sure if he could hear you. “Help will come.”

The clearing was empty, the woods eerily silent, and you were alone with him. You swallowed hard, forcing down the fear that threatened to swallow you whole, as you gently gripped his uninjured hand.

“Hang on, San. Please, hang on.”

San’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Despite the agony coursing through him, he managed a slight nod, though it was more instinctive than conscious. This wasn’t how you imagined your next encounter would go—you had always thought there would be words, sharp and cutting, arguments that would drag old wounds into the light. But now, none of that seems to matter.

“Y/N!” Yeosang’s voice broke through the haze, sharp and desperate, yanking you back to reality. “What happened?” he demanded, kneeling beside San, his voice steady despite the urgency in his tone.

Yeosang was never one to panic. He was always composed, steady, the one you could count on to think clearly when everyone else faltered. But now, the fear in his voice was unmistakable. It hit you hard—reminding you that even he wasn’t immune to the gravity of this moment.

“Something must have spooked his horse,” you replied, your voice shaky but determined. “He fell—I think he broke his arm and hit his head. He can barely move.”

The rest of the hunting party worked quickly, their voices rising and falling in a flurry of urgency as they attempted to stabilize San. Yeosang barked orders, directing members to fetch bandages, splints, and whatever they could find to tend to his injuries, while others hurried off to locate a physician.

“Stay with him, Y/N.”

You blinked, the request jarring you. "Stay with him? Yeosang, what am I supposed to do?" Panic threaded through your words, uncertainty swirling in your mind. The idea of being alone with San, especially after everything that had transpired between you, filled you with hesitation.

Yeosang placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. “Just be there for him.”

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer, forcing your legs to move even as doubt gnawed at your mind. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it on his uninjured arm.

“Breathe. Focus on my voice.” With every word, you pushed through the discomfort, allowing your instincts to take over. You could do this. You could be here for him, even if it felt strange and uncertain. How could you admit that despite everything, despite all the resentment and hurt, seeing San like this tore at something deep inside you?

"You’ll be fine, I promise," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently against his arm. You weren’t sure if the words were meant for him or for yourself.

“A broken arm, likely a clean break, but the concussion is worrying. He’ll need to be monitored closely for the next few days,” Dr. Song said, rolling his sleeves down.

You stood on the outskirts of the room, watching as the viscount and viscountess hovered anxiously while the doctor wrapped his arm in a sling and applied a poultice to reduce the swelling. There was a knot in your stomach, a strange feeling of guilt that you couldn’t quite shake. You hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t wished him harm, no matter the bitterness between you.

“We must send word home! We need to retrieve our belongings—anything that might make him more comfortable,” Viscountess Choi was frantic, her footsteps echoing across the wooden floor as she paced around the room. Her eyes darted from her son lying motionless in the bed to the doctor, who was wrapping up his examination, a reassuring calm contrasting sharply with her spiraling anxiety.

“What he needs right now is rest, my lady.” The Viscountess stopped mid-step, her mouth opening as if to protest, but Dr. Song, though young, didn’t waver under her gaze.

“He’s sustained a broken arm, which I’ve set, and the concussion, while concerning, will heal in time. Moving him too much or worrying him unnecessarily will only delay his recovery. There’s no need to rush for additional belongings. His most important treatment is rest and a calm environment.”

“But he needs—”

Dr. Song remained unflinching, standing his ground despite the weight of her title and her fear. “I’ll be checking on him daily, my lady. He’s in capable hands and I can assure you Earl Kang will see to that. There’s no immediate need for anything beyond what he already has here.”

“It’s too dangerous to move him in this condition,” your mother’s calm, authoritative voice broke through the heaviness in the room. Though gentle, there was a firmness that left no room for argument. “San should stay here and recuperate at our estate,” she declared, the decision final.

Viscount Choi glanced up from the sofa, taken aback by the offer. “We couldn’t possibly impose,” he said, the surprise evident in his voice.

“Of course not!” your mother replied, her voice soothing yet resolute. “We have more than enough room, and it is the best course of action for his recovery! Dr. Song will ensure he is closely monitored and I’ve arranged for his meals to be brought to his room. If there is anything else he requires, we can send for it first thing in the morning.”

There was a brief pause, and for a moment, it seemed as though the Viscountess might continue her protest, but your mother’s reassuring presence and the doctor’s unwavering certainty seemed to quell her panic, if only slightly. She nodded, though her movements were stiff, reluctant.

“Very well,” Viscountess Choi murmured, though her voice was still tinged with worry. “But first thing tomorrow! He’ll be more comfortable with his belongings.”

You watched the exchange with a sinking feeling, knowing full well that once your mother made a decision, there was no changing her mind. Even though your brother was technically the Earl, wielding the title and all the responsibilities that came with it, there was an unspoken rule in the household—one everyone followed without question: when mama spoke, her word was law.

Though you wanted to protest, what could you say? To speak out would only make things worse—more awkward, more tense. And deep down, you knew your mother wasn’t wrong. San did need care, and this was the most practical solution.

San woke up the next day in a haze, the sharp scent of herbs filling his senses. His entire body ached, but the searing pain in his arm was the worst of it. A dull throb pulsed through the limb, which was tightly wrapped in bandages and immobilized in a sling. He blinked groggily, trying to focus as the events of the previous day came rushing back—his horse, the fall, the crack of his bone hitting the ground.

He glanced down at his arm, the sight of it twisted in an unnatural position still haunted him, but the worst part was the helplessness. How long would it take for him to heal? How much strength would he lose in the meantime?

San recalled the moment after the fall, when you rushed to his side. He could still feel the weight of your hand on his shoulder, the quiet urgency in your voice as you tried to keep him conscious. Despite the pain, gratitude settled in his chest. You could have left him there or walked away but instead, you stayed.

“Mr. Choi?” a soft knock sounded at the door, followed by the voice of one of the house staff, tentative yet concerned. “Are you awake, sir?”

Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but the moment he put any weight on his arm, a sharp, excruciating pain shot through him, causing him to falter.

Before he could muster another attempt, the door creaked open slightly. “Oh! Oh goodness, Mr. Choi is awake!” the staff member gasped, clearly startled to see him moving. They turned quickly, hurrying down the hall.

"Viscountess! My lady!" they called, their voice carrying through the estate.

Within moments, the hurried sound of footsteps filled the corridor. “San,” she breathed, rushing to his bedside. “Why didn’t you call for someone? You should be resting!”

San opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a word, she was already by his side, adjusting the pillows and fussing over him in a way that was both comforting and overwhelming. He winced slightly, trying to move his arm, but her sharp gaze caught it immediately.

"Don't," she scolded gently, yet firmly. “You’ll only make it worse.”

He sighed, his pride stinging more than the injury. “I’m fine, mother. Really.”

As Viscountess Choi settled into the chair beside his bed, her fingers hovered over his good hand. “You gave us all quite the scare,” she said, her voice quieter now, laced with an unexpected vulnerability. “How could this have happened?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he murmured, a shadow creeping into the back of his mind. His fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket, his body tensing beneath the sheets. There was a whisper of doubt that refused to leave, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

The horse had shown no signs of distress. None. Not a flicker of agitation, no warning before it suddenly bucked, sending him crashing to the ground. It had been a reliable animal, well-trained. Something about its reaction just didn’t add up—not in the way accidents usually did.

His thoughts darkened, the suspicion growing like a slow-burning fire: What if it wasn’t an accident? What if someone had tampered with his riding equipment? The idea wasn’t fully formed, but San could no longer shake the unsettling possibility that this had been no mere accident at all.

“I should let you know that you will be recovering here for the time being,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “The physician insists you rest, and I won’t have you rushing back home before you are fully healed.”

San frowned, shifting slightly under the weight of the blankets. “Mother, I—”

“I know it’s not what you want to hear,” she interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “But consider this a blessing in disguise.”

“A blessing?”

The Viscountess smoothed a hand over her gown, her eyes narrowing with that calculating look San knew all too well.

“Yes, a blessing. You will have the time you need to heal, and…” She paused, her gaze drifting toward the door before returning to him. “You will also have the opportunity to grow closer to Y/N.”

San felt a knot tighten in his stomach, realizing where this conversation was headed. The subtle shift in his mother’s demeanor, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile, made it clear that she had plans for him—plans that involved you.

“Mother, she has nothing to do with our debts– ” he began, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“You may not have received a response to the proposal yet, but that does not mean the matter is closed. In fact,” she continued, her eyes gleaming with purpose, “this is an excellent opportunity for you to spend time with her.”

“I’m not sure Y/N wants anything to do with me,” San muttered, his voice low. He looked away, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure what would come of this—whether you would even want to see him, let alone get closer. But in his current state, there was little he could do to resist the plan his parents had set in motion.

And despite everything—the pain, the tension between the both of you, and the mounting pressure from his parents—a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was an opportunity to make amends with you.

“Viscountess, I have this morning’s newspaper… for you,” your voice faltered as you stepped into the doorway of the guest room, holding out the latest edition. The words died on your lips when you saw San, awake and sitting up in bed.

The years had changed you—San could see it in the way you carried yourself, with a quiet strength in your posture that hadn’t been there before. You had grown and matured. The light in your eyes was different now—more knowing, more self-assured. In this moment, everything about you shone brighter, and he found himself looking at you with admiration and something deeper, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel until now.

"Y/N!" Her face lit up at the sight of you, bringing warmth and softness to the room. "Thank you, my dear," she said, taking the newspaper without even glancing at it and turning her attention to San with a determined expression.

"I must speak with the staff about the upcoming arrangements if San is to be here for the next few weeks!" Her voice brimmed with enthusiasm, clearly thrilled at the prospect of her son’s recovery and the plans that lay ahead.

As the door closed behind her, the air in the room thickened, the sudden quiet almost suffocating. You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, unsure of what to say—or even what you should feel. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence carried the weight of all that had brought you to this point. It almost felt like the room was closing in around you as unspoken words hung between you.

“Y/N, I… I mean Ms. Kang.”

“There is no need for formalities, Mr. Choi. Consider yourself a welcomed guest here at the estate.” You forced the words out, each syllable tinged with an edge of irritation. The formality felt like a barrier, a way to keep your emotions in check.

San shifted slightly, wincing as he tried to ease the discomfort. “I um…thank you for staying with me,” he murmured, his voice low and almost uncertain. “I can’t tell you what it meant to me, having you by my side.”

Heat rose to your face, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard, unsettling you in a way you didn’t want to admit. How could he say that? How could he look at you like that, with those eyes—eyes that once made you feel everything—now making you feel the exact opposite?

“Your mother would have been upset if something terrible happened to you,” you stammered, as you quickly glanced away. “I’m not sure my family could sustain that level of wrath.”

There had been a time when you would have rushed to his side without hesitation, when the thought of him in pain would have driven you mad. But the truth was, it was the sight of him, vulnerable and in pain, that stirred something in you you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I’m glad to see that you are well. I must attend to other matters now, Mr. Choi. Please excuse me,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing that if you did, it would only make things worse.

“Wait,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but sharp enough to stop you in your tracks.

“Please disregard the letter from my father,” San continued, and this time his voice was more steady, though there was an unmistakable edge of desperation beneath it. “You don’t have to…you should not feel obligated to respond.”

You paused, your hand hovering over the door handle as his words sank in, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, reluctantly, you turned back to face him. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on his cast.

The letter had arrived only days ago, a formal proposal, neatly sealed with the Choi family crest. It wasn’t filled with declarations of love or hope for a shared future—it was a promise. A transaction, born out of loyalty between two men, your late father and Viscount Choi, who had once been the closest of friends. But the reality was far more bitter.

To the Choi’s this wasn’t about preserving friendship or honoring old promises—it was a cold, calculated move to clear their debts, using the goodwill between your families to their advantage.

They weren’t looking for a union—they were looking for an escape.

For San, it wasn’t even his mess to fix. He was trapped in this arrangement as much as you were, and yet somehow, that didn’t make the sting any less painful. But the voice in the back of your mind, the one that always seemed to grow louder in moments like this, fed into your worst fears.

San was asking you to disregard the proposal, to reject it like it meant nothing. But his words took hold of your insecurities, dragging them to the surface. You were nothing but a game, a challenge to conquer. Your chest tightened, anger and hurt bubbling up in a way that you hadn’t expected. You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to keep your composure, but the frustration—the unfairness of it all—was too much.

“Are you mocking me?” The words came out before you could stop them, your voice trembling with a raw hurt you hated yourself for feeling. “You expect me to simply disregard it? As if it means nothing? As if I do not deserve a say in my own life?”

San’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock at your accusation. “No, that is not my intention, Y/N. I–I don’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you do not want,” he insisted, desperation creeping into his voice, as if he were pleading for you to understand.

“Do you mean something you don’t want? Saving me from yourself, is that it? How noble of you,” you spat venomously. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped your lips. You narrowed your eyes, voice dropping to a cold, biting tone.

"That's not what I meant!" he pleaded, his good hand twitched as if reaching for something he couldn't grasp. "I just—"

“Do not act as though you are granting me a favor when it is you who has already shown that I am not worth courting, let alone marrying.”

San flinched, your words hitting harder than any physical blow. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you turned, walking away before he could find the right words. The door slammed shut behind you, leaving him alone, staring at the empty space where you’d stood.

You knew it was unfair to bring up the past, to remind him that he had only courted you for the thrill of the chase. The shock in his eyes, the disbelief, didn’t matter anymore. You had spent too much time living with the knowledge, wondering if he had ever seen you as more than a game.

As you stormed down the corridor, you heard a shuffling behind you. You spun around, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw San, pale and breathless, following after you. His injured arm was cradled close to his body, but his steps were determined, his face etched with pain and stubborn resolve.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him risking further injury to catch up to you. "What are you doing?!" you hissed.

"I think the world of you," he rasped, his voice low and strained but filled with a fierce conviction that made your chest tighten. “And I will not let you become a pawn in my father’s machinations. I could never live with myself if I stood by and let him—let anyone—trap you in a life that doesn’t reflect your desires or dreams," he continued, his voice softer now, almost tender.

A moment of silence lingered between you, brimming with unspoken emotions. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.

What did he mean by that? The question echoed in your mind, yet your attention was drawn solely to the intensity of his gaze and the unfiltered honesty woven into his words. It felt as though he was offering you a glimpse of his heart, laying bare his thoughts and feelings in a way that made your own pulse quicken.

And it terrified you.

<< i | iii >>

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #historical au #choi san x reader #choi san x you #ateez fic #regency era #regency au #marriage of convenience #one enemy to lovers #arranged marriage #san angst

60 notes · View notes

born-to-riot · 2 days

Text

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: A/B/O, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it A/B/O (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional powder that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out four days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

NVM IM GONNA WRITE IT MYSELF MUAHAHHAHAAHA

67 notes · View notes

merryslilhobbit · 2 days

Text

There are so many things about the Daniel Ricciardo situation that frustrate and anger me, so I'm getting them off my chest before I lose the plot. I'm sure other people have said the same things, but here we go.

Horner made a whole big show of picking Daniel up after the McLaren debacle, bringing him back into "the family". Made himself out to be some sort of saviour. Rebuilding Daniel's confidence, his physical and mental health. Got a dig in at Zak in a press conference about "feeding Daniel up" because he was skinny. Invited DTS to see his return at Silverstone 2023. So to kick Daniel to the curb just a few races before the end of the season? Because they have "a lot of data on Daniel" and need to see other options for the future? Hypocritical c*nt.

Next, replacing him with someone they're not confident enough in to give a contract to straight away? Yes, Liam did a good job in Daniel's absence last year. This is absolutely not me shitting on Liam - I like him, and I think he and Yuki will be good teammates. But he's been out of full time racing for a while. Allegedly RB weren't overly excited about his testing times in the summer. While it will be interesting to see how he compares to Yuki, why are RB hanging onto Liam when they don't seem confident enough to give him a full time seat? Why are they so determined to keep pushing this one? (Yes I know the answer is probably contracts, but still.)

Then there's the fact that Daniel has actually outperformed Yuki in 6 of the last 9 races (since the start of the European leg). In the same period, they've scored the same number of points. Daniel has also been more consistent in his finishing position than Yuki. In terms of form, Singapore excluded (but I think we can forgive him that one, given the media shitstorm), he's been the better of the two and isn't it meant to be that the first person you need to beat is your teammate? There's only so much you can achieve in a tractor.

And we can't forget the Checo situation. Following the first six races he's bombed in comparison to Max. He's probably cost Red Bull the Constructors'. He was given a few races to improve, didn't and then was kept anyway (probably because of money and the Mexican GP). He often qualifies further behind (in time) Max than Daniel does Yuki. I know Red Bull are coming out now and saying they found a problem with their design from Barcelona last year, when Checo first started reporting issues but frankly I'm calling bullshit on that. As mentioned, Checo had six very good races and results at the start of 2024. And some decent ones at the end of 2023. At one point there was speculation that Daniel might even replace Checo mid-season (some reports say it was a done deal), so in the space of a few weeks to go from that to being dropped himself? I have whiplash.

And I think that's the hardest part. A lot of people were probably aware that it could be difficult for Daniel to get a seat for next year. But at no point was there any suggestion that he might get replaced mid-season. Not even in the middle, six races before the end. When Red Bull confirmed in the summer break that both Checo and Daniel would see out the seasons in their current seats.

Red Bull have created an absolute PR disaster and they deserve it. Driver of the Day, amongst many other things in the last 48 hours, reflects the love and respect so many people have for Daniel. People who see how emotional he was, who see that he didn't have an opportunity to say goodbye properly (fuck, even McLaren did that - remember the Monza 2021 photo on his steering wheel?). People who recognise that dumping him so close to the end of the season is ridiculous.

In the end, I hope that Daniel really is at peace with it all and is in better shape than he left McLaren; that he can be proud of all of his achievements in the sport. Drivers come and go, but very few make their mark in the way Daniel has done. He may not have broken records or won championships, but the fact that he will still be remembered for a very long time despite those things is a testament to his character, to the sort of person we all know and love.

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #formula 1 #f1 #red bull #red bull f1 #red bull racing #vcarb #thoughts

50 notes · View notes

inchidentally · 21 hours

Text

went truly unhinged and wrote an entire fic summary of mafia!carcar @__@ special thanks to the good ppl over at the carcar discord <3

as usual I worked google's p*ssy tired to put together the details so pls ignore/handwave anything erroneous

Okay, so for regional specifications let’s say that Carlos has worked for years to be vouched for in the mafia. He’s actually a spy and in an extremely dangerous position - he was plucked from law school in Spain to be trained up in the intelligence agency and was assigned to Sicily due to his fluency in Italian. So even though he’s only 26, he’s already highly skilled and has been living and working full-time as a secret agent and translator - as well as liaison for the mafia - in Sicily for years already.

Oscar is fresh off his A-levels and touring Italy with lofty dreams of becoming a race engineer for Ferrari but assuming he’ll end up back in the UK in some bland office where he’ll hope to make enough money to go to F1 races - and maybe one day take his rightful place on that pit wall.

Palermo is at the very end of his trip before he flies back to London and he books a tour of the Norman Palace. He’s enjoying the fusion of cultures in the art and architecture, totally unaware that his name had been noticed by one of the palace’s administration when he’d bought the ticket a week before. An untraceable number of emails and messages had brought his existence to the attention of mafiosi who had until that moment assumed that particular royal line had died out.

They immediately scour what little exists of Oscar in the public domain and the even less available through government authorities (the boy is barely out of childhood and has done nothing of note except leaving his homeland to attend school in the UK and hasn’t even gotten so much as a speeding ticket). His social media however reveals a hunch that young Oscar is not unaffected by handsome men, possibly with a penchant for Spanish men in particular, and that he is an ardent Ferrari fanboy. A hastily put-together plot to snare the boy into the mafia by establishing him in his rightful royal position has all the promise of strengthening the mafia control of the region.

Meanwhile, many consiglieri have long been suspicious of Carlos and see this as an opportunity for him to commit his oath for good - or to see him and the Oscar boy easily disposed of if the Spaniard was discovered to be a rat. They will install Carlos as a translator for Ferrari and he will then claim that he is also on holiday in Palermo when he “bumps into” Oscar at the palace. As they are marveling at the Palatine Chapel’s interior and Carlos is using Ferrari and himself to work every charm at his disposal, a royal scholar with ties to the mafia will approach and inform them of his suspicion that Oscar is of royal descent. He will then ask them back to the University of Palermo to confirm his suspicions (which had of course already been confirmed). By that point, Oscar will have been successfully wooed by both Carlos and the promise of taking his rightful place as a prince, so that the mafia can insinuate themselves into his life and eventually his reign.

Only Carlos’ training can prevent his dismay from being revealed to his bosses as the plan is described to him, but he’s horrified at dragging some poor, unwitting kid into all the danger and ruthlessness of organized crime. He decides to defy his bosses back at the intelligence agency and play the long game of making Oscar his husband and strategizing at every turn to keep the boy alive and hopefully at some point extricate him back to his normal life - or at least into a witness protection program. Anything else would certainly risk Oscar’s life and even if Carlos hadn’t become fond of the kid from a distance, he still wouldn’t sacrifice him for a shorter route to cutting off an entire arm of organized crime.

The plan proceeds as expected, with Oscar dazzled and blushing over Carlos’ attentions and the royal scholar having approached them. It all suddenly goes awry when an overzealous nephew of a mafiosi - fresh off a 12-hour drug bender - infiltrates operations, taking Oscar hostage in the chapel and insisting that the government immediately recognize Oscar as royalty and that the church marry them there in the chapel. He then turns the gun to dispatch an unarmed Carlos, only to be knocked unconscious by Oscar wielding an antique censer.

The royal scholar - Andrea Stella - is a good man who now speaks urgently to Carlos in a peculiar coded language (they both have on wires) informing him that he knows of the mafia’s plans and that he too wants to see Oscar kept safe. Oscar surprises them by not only understanding the code but speaking it back - albeit brokenly - to them. The code is known only within the Ferrari elite and sounds identical to everyday Italian but with a sequenced pattern that carries a second meaning to every other word, something that amateur cryptography genius Oscar picks up on remarkably quickly.

Which is how Oscar learns that his claim to royal status is fully valid, his entanglement with the mafia is very real, but worst of all is that Carlos’ romantic interest in him was all a lie (or so he assumes).

The police and media attention that the hostage situation attracts results in the mafia’s plans proceeding as expected, except for all three men pivotal to their machinations being in cahoots to foil them. Oscar is granted status as a prince but without anointing or coronation by the church due to him taking Carlos for a husband. They are installed in a part of the palace now closed off to the public and begin their work ingratiating Oscar with said public and even winning them over to the idea of him being married to another man (Carlos not being Italian ends up being the biggest hurdle for them to get over). Oscar’s youth, beauty, shyness and sweet giggle work unexpected wonders, as does the promise of a return to all the regal romance of a pre-unified Italy while not actually returning to those times politically.

Carlos and Oscar have a tense private relationship because Oscar is nursing a wounded heart as well as a stubborn attraction and love for Carlos - while Carlos feels ashamed of having tried to seduce Oscar for duplicitous purposes and is also struggling with an intense attraction and growing affection for him. Andrea is the architect of their whole counter-strategy and is both the heart and the brains: the brains because he has lain in wait for decades for the right opportunity to destroy the mafia’s power, but also the heart because he sees Oscar as a son and can also see the misunderstandings going on between Oscar and Carlos.

Oscar is a complete surprise package in having an iron-clad poker face and an uncanny ability to remain calm even as his life is turned upside down that rivals seasoned operatives. He even manages to dupe his own family when they visit for the wedding. When Carlos asks how he can so easily lie to them about it all, Oscar levels him with “I could do anything just to keep them safe.” To which Carlos replies that he knows what Oscar means and raises Oscar’s hand to kiss over the ring he now wears as prince. Then he kisses Oscar at one of the highest points of the palace with Mount Etna visible in the distance.

They begin an all-consuming sexual affair that they both privately claim is beneficial to confirming their relationship to the mafia while conveniently remaining in denial of their real feelings. Carlos pours all of his into kissing every inch of Oscar’s pale skin until he’s pink all over, and Oscar puts all his aching heart into taking Carlos down his throat just out of view of the public or forcing Carlos to handle meetings while Oscar is crouched between his ankles. A few lowly messengers of the mafiosi bring back stories of hearing the prince’s cries punctuated with the banging of furniture against palace walls. Carlos can’t keep his hands off his pretty husband either in public or private conclave with “officials” who are really mafiosi under different titles.

Meanwhile, Oscar is still presumed by the mafia to be none the wiser about the criminal element of his reign and does such sleek work with his angelic face and adorably unassuming attitude that any lingering discussion of dispatching him is immediately shut down.

Which makes it all the more shocking four years later when a sudden mass assassination frames half the criminal element for the death of the other half and throws the whole of the syndicate in chaos that dissolves their control entirely. The ensuing months see Oscar, Carlos and Andrea sequestered - along with their court - inside the palace which is shut to the public amid fears of another hostage situation, while arrests and investigations take place.

Tensions across the city are high in the wake of the ensuing widely publicized trials and Oscar insists that a public appearance from him outside the palace would reassure and distract the public - and that it would solidify his position as more than seemingly ceremonial. The palace officials agree to the plan but as they are deciding on the security detail, Carlos realizes his presence alongside Oscar has not been mentioned.

Later that night in their bedchamber, Carlos raises his concern and states that he will be accompanying his husband during his appearance. Oscar attempts to shut him down by stating that Carlos would only represent a greater threat by seeming to taunt the mafia and encourage retribution.

They argue until Oscar calmly pulls rank, to which Carlos responds by kissing him fiercely and forcing him onto the bed. They desperately make love and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Carlos awakens in their room alone and with the sun at a suspicious slant through the windows. He realizes Oscar has stolen Carlos’ phone from its usual place by the bed to ensure that he slept in - clearly hoping Carlos would sleep through Oscar’s public appearance entirely. He realizes the little beast had baited him into fucking him so thoroughly that Carlos was exhausted and woke late.

He pulls on clothes and tears down the stairs to the courtyard with just enough time to compose himself and stand beside one of the guards. Oscar stood out in front with the selected media in a semi-circle and an enormous crowd at barriers set further out, many of whom were calling out affection and support for their prince. He does not see that Carlos has joined them and proceeds with his speech.

Carlos spots the gun at the same time as the guard next to him, but it is aimed at Oscar and not himself.

As Etna smokes and rumbles what will be called a mild yet deadly eruption in the distance, two shots are fired after Carlos and the guard wrap their bodies around Oscar and force him to safety. The remaining guards - and a few members of the public - detain the gunman (none too gently) and Carlos and Oscar are bundled back to their rooms and the guards take up position outside.

Inside their bedchamber, Oscar frantically paws at Carlos, wildly suspecting that he’s been shot and doesn’t realize it. He tugs Carlos’ jacket and shirt off and gives a heartbreaking cry of relief when he doesn’t see a single mark on his husband’s body.

Oscar breaks down at last, releasing four years of stress and anxiety in a gust of tears and collapsing in Carlos’ arms. He pours out how he had contrived the mass assassination plan mere months after his life was altered forever in the Palatine Chapel - how he brought Andrea into it to help him with things like the details and movements of mafia members, members who would be willing to work against the family and the risk to innocents, even down to developing a seemingly arbitrary fascination with volcanology so that he could be made aware of Etna’s activity far enough in advance to take the admittedly wild final gambit of disposing the remaining members by having them conveniently perish in Etna’s next eruption. He realized that while conspiring half the local mafia against the larger organization would result in a certain amount of mutually assured destruction, as well as concealing forever Oscar’s role in it, he would have some stragglers to deal with who could regroup in retribution. A suggestion was therefore sent down via Oscar’s court officials to the police loyal to the palace, and then to remaining criminals-at-large (also those with the bloodiest histories in the mafia) of escaping arrest by scaling the crater during a period of high activity and therefore remaining undetected by officials, guides and the public. Their treacherous expedition was promised to take them to the other side of the volcano and then to the coast where boats and new identities would take them from their troubles.

Oscar had reasoned that if Etna hadn’t taken them then their desire for escaping arrest would scatter them and effectively extinguish their power hopefully forever. Andrea had marveled at Oscar’s command over strategizing the whole plan mostly by himself and said that Ferrari would mourn missing out on hiring him if they knew what he was capable of.

Carlos cradles Oscar on the carpet, kissing his sweat-cold brow and begging to know why Oscar didn’t include Carlos in the plan? Does he still not trust him after all this time? Because if so then he wishes the bullet had found him and put an end to playing husband to the man he loves but who will never love him in return.

Oscar looks up into his eyes with a face full of wonder and brings a hand up to lovingly stroke Carlos’ cheek. Because he kept Carlos out of it precisely so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid like sacrifice himself and ruin Oscar’s hopes that when his plan was finished, perhaps they could start over and he could make Carlos love him the way he loves Carlos.

For the first time, they kiss knowing their love is mutual. And while they realize their positions will always involve some element of danger and their lives will never be “normal”, they admit that they’d never choose any other life if it meant not being together.

ENDITO!

#carcar #carloscar #5581 #my writing

37 notes · View notes

afterartist · 2 days

Text

HELICALTALE MAIN CAST LINEUP!!

(Not ll of the characters but the most important ones to the plot)

‘And now: AU Infodump

BUT BEFORE ANYTHING!!

I will be answering any questions (within reason) any of you have about the au, even if it’s about some random side character only three people have ever heard of before

I live world building and any chance to expand on this world are treasured

I’ll probably answer with fun little doodles as well lol

So ask away :D!!

Basic AU overview:

Helicaltale is NOT a classic based Timeline.

The AU is set in a world where Mt Ebott was destroyed during the war, leaving a desert crater in its place, no protection for the Monsters to retreat and nowhere to seal them underground. In response, the Human mages put a spell on Monster kind, ‘Helios’ Curse’, forcing them to be unable to touch sunlight or else they’d burn (think Vampires or Minecraft Mobs)

The main story takes place 87 years after the war ended and 29 years after friendly communications between the two races begun, with the Monsters settled in a camp like city, made of tents and canvas buildings, around the oasis that formed in the desert that was now known as Ebott crater. Humans and Monsters have achieved peace between the races, regular trading routes and communications set up between the two cities.

Now all that was left was for both Humans and Monsters to find a way to break Helios’ Curse for good.

(None of them can touch Sunlight (minus the humans) but the ones more lightly dressed (Gaster, Alphys, Asgore) all live in the city, with proper buildings not at risk of being blown over at any second so can afford to not be covered up 100% of the time)

Locations:

Ebott City-

The capital city of the country, Ebott is a massive human settlement, overshadowing old ruins left by the war. It’s currently the main base of conferences between human and monster relations.

The Oasis-

The Monster settlement, made from tents and interconnecting canvas sheets, from above it looks like a colourful cluster of a campground, large sheets stretched over the streets. From within it’s only lit by lamps and magic, the sky completely blocked out by tarps and canvas to avoid accidentally getting burned by sunlight, to those not familiar with the city it’s a labyrinth, others, its home.

(A major inspiration for the Oasis is the Kowloon walled city, for those interested in a more accurate visual of the Oasis)

The Great Fence-

While the name conveys grandeur, the fence is a simple chain link fence acting as the border around the entire Oasis, topped with barbed wire and adorned with tarps, it’s designed to protect the residents against wild animals like Coyotes and be a barrier against sandstorms more than it is to keep people out, one of the most regular jobs for the Royal guard other than being general peace keepers is to uphold the fence, often sending patrols out after heavy storms to keep everything in order.

Central Oasis-

A mix between Newhome and Waterfall, it’s the main hub of the town, the Royal family living there along with the majority of schools and recreational areas, most Water based monsters (ie: Shyren, Aaron ect ect) also live in this area, a large lake of water being the centerpiece of the city.

Lights district-

To the west side of the city is the main shopping hub, while much more open than the majority of the Oasis, many stores foregoing walls on their tents entirely, its full of stores and restaurants, the most well known being Grillby’s and Muffets joint restaurant, many visitors to the Oasis come for the night life of the lights district, the monsters that live in that area making the camp around them as flashy and attractive as possible, neon lights and dancing flames lighting up the darkness of the district, the Celebrities Mettaton and Nabstablook have also been alluded to frequent the region and perform for onlookers.

Sandbank-

The Snowden equivalent of the AU, having gotten its name due to its position at the east side of the city, being the least protected by the walls of the crater, Sandbank often gets the brunt of the sandstorms that hit the desert, leading many of the Royal Guards live in this area in case of an emergency during the storms.

Southside (the Black Market)-

Technically not its official name, the Southside of the Oasis is whispered about in the dark of night, rumours telling of an illegal market place and shady monsters working in the south, many a monster wandering in and never coming out. While most likely just old wives tales, its best you keep your distance, just in case.

(Yeah I made the Black Market an actual real marketplace because that will never not be funny to me)

Hotlands-

The north most section of the Oasis is best known as Hotlands, given the name as it’s the highest section of city but also the most shielded by the crater walls, leaving it boiling without any wind to seep out the heat’. There’s been speculation that Hotlands actually sits over an underground chamber of magma, adding to the blistering temperature.

Characters:

The Dreemurrs:

Frisk- (Any Pronouns)

Frisk is an 11 year old kid, a runaway from one of Ebott City’s Orphanages, known for its less than legal treatment of the children. Having joined Chara as the eldest helped them both escape, Frisk followed Chara into the desert, looking for shelter from CPS.

During the trek however Frisk falls sick with an illness, most common in Monsters but able to infect anyone with strong magic, called Icarus syndrome.

With Icarus syndrome being effectively Hyperthermia of the soul, any physical treatment is ineffective, needing a particular medication to have any hope of survival, leaving the crater as not just refuge but possibly their only chance of survival.

Chara- (They/Them)

Chara is 16 and the orchestrator of the escape from the Orphanage with Frisk, after having been in contact online with a kid from the Monster camp that offered assistance. During the escape Frisk fell ill, forcing Chara to locate and purchase the rare medicine. Ending up in the Monster equivalent of the black market, Chara found a monster begrudgingly willing to help, trading a magical glass eye, a prosthetic their grandfather made for both humans and monsters during the war, for a small vial of medicine. The trader warning them to keep out of the black market before dropping the two kids off safely at the center of the Oasis.

Asriel- (He/Him)

Asriel is the firstborn son of the Dreemurrs and heir to the Royal throne, at 16 he made contact and became friends with a kid online, the other telling him of the danger they and their sibling were in at the Orphanage. Quickly offering up his home, knowing both his parents had fostered and cared for many children in the past and wouldn’t turn away two more. Upon meeting them in the Oasis he makes fast friends with both Frisk and Chara, practically adopting them as siblings on the spot.

Toriel- (She/Her)

Queen of the Oasis at 143 years old, Toriel has seen her fair share of bloodshed and peacetime, giving her the knowledge to recognise that protecting young children is the best way to ensure their future, guiding them to Mercy and pragmatic solutions instead of Fighting. One of the first things she did after Monsters had finally settled into the Oasis being starting up a school, becoming the primary teacher for a good few years before other parents eventually began to join her staff. Though, with the two new children her son had brought to her doorstep, she’s begun to realise it’s not just the children of Monster kind that need protection.

Asgore- (He/Him)

King of the Oasis and 146 years old, Asgore grew up at the front lines of the war, the heinous acts shaping him into the pacifist he is today. Currently away from the Oasis, Asgore has turned his sights on communications with the Humans, staying at the city while conferences with the city leaders on trade routes and transportation commence. He is also overseeing the Monster half of the Science team, working closely with the Royal Advisor and Scientists Gaster in developing a cure to Helios’ Curse. He remains in frequent contact with the Oasis, making the trip back every weekend to see his now growing family and make sure Toriel isn’t overwhelmed with responsibilities.

The Fonts:

Dr. Gaster- (He/Him)

At 140, Gaster has spent his life developing weapons for war (the Gaster Blaster being his pride and joy) and perseverance for Monster Kind, having a massive distaste for all Humans and most Monsters. The sudden change from war efforts to restoration efforts throwing his life in disarray. Jumping at the chance to use Human equipment on government funded experiments, Gaster didn’t hesitate to leave his sons Sans and Papyrus (9 and 4 at the time) back at the Oasis to move to the city and begin work. He’s had a hand in creating many inventions helping Monster kind (both helping with the medicine for Icarus Syndrome and a magic Sunscreen that can briefly minimise the effects of the sun) and the head of the Selene Project, the project to break the curse.

Sans- (He/Him)

28 and thriving, Sans has made a name for himself as both the comedic slacker of the Royal guard and the savvy businessman as one of the Black Markets best traders. Having been forced to raise both himself and Papyrus from a young age, Sans became intwined with the black market at the age of 12, after Papyrus caught Icarus Syndrome and receiving no help from Gaster off in the city, Sans was forced to find his own way of getting medication. At the age of 12 he found his way into the black market, ending up trading his right eye, and subsequently some of his shortcut abilities with an underground doctor in exchange for the medicine, to this day he hasn’t told anyone what happened to his eye. From then on he found himself going back and getting into trading as a way of making money as a side job while both he and Papyrus worked to get into the Royal guard, quickly becoming infamous in the criminal world of the Oasis, though he had a rule that no kids were to ever be found trading in the market. A rule that quickly got broken when a young human kid stumbled into his shop, begging for help, offering a magic glass eye as payment. Unable to send the kid off without help (or turn down the irony of selling the meds for an eye) he made the trade before guiding the kid and their sibling to the Oasis center.

(Bonus:)

After dropping the kids off, Sans makes an attempt to use the prosthetic eye, yet upon fitting it into his socket, the magic activated and bonded with his soul, causing the eye to become fused with his being, immovable. Along with the eye he’s suddenly able to see things he, by all means, should NOT be able to see, including text bubbles from the creators (similar to error sans)

He also finds, magically in his pocket, a small golden key, only figuring out its use after stumbling across a door in the middle of nowhere, upon using the key on the door he finds himself in an entirely different AU, door closing and disappearing behind him.

This is what leads him to discover the Multiverse and travel between AUs (inconveniently ending up in Nightmares Castle more times than he’d care to count)

Papyrus- (He/Him)

The Great Papyrus, second in command of the Royal guard at the younge age of 23 (you may applaud now)

Having grown up with just himself and Sans, Papyrus always wanted to become something great to make his brother proud, despite Sans’ insistence that he’s already proud of him. When he was 13, while Sans was out getting food, Papyrus had been targeted and hunted down by a group of bullies from the Southside of town, the group of teens taking turns in beating him up, eventually escalating to the point where one of them pulled a mirror from their pocket and used it to reflect a beam of sun directly onto his face, leaving a permanent scar,

He was saved however, when a teen he recognised from the Oasis center came charging out from one of the nearby tents, picking up handfuls of sand and hurtling it at the other kids before beating them up with her fists alone. Once over, the girl had turned, helped Papyrus up and took him to see her grandfather, the current head of the Royal Guard, a job she loudly proclaimed she was going to have one day,

Ever since then he attempted and eventually got into the Royal guard, along with Sans and the teen, Undyne.

Gersons:

Undyne- (She/Her)

29, Captain of the Royal Guard, Wife of the best woman around, living the high life! Having been raised by her grandfather Gerson for longer than she could remember, she’s always looked up to the Royal Guard, no matter how her Grandfather told her it wasn’t all glory. She’d been sneaking out and training with one of the Royal Guards for 8 years by the time she was 19, stumbling across a fight, six of her classmates beating down on a young skeleton. She’d jumped to defense before she’d even registered it, helping the kid up and getting him patched up where eventually the kids brother, Sans, one of Alphys’ friends found them and thanked her profusely.

The three became fast friends, practically siblings, both of them there at her and Alphys’ wedding and her promotion to Captain of the Royal guard.

Alphys- (She/They)

27 and already one of the best Scientists in the whole country. Alphys’ having grown up in Hotlands would have never dared to dream she’d be working with a whole team of like minded scientists, especially not in the human city, though not being able to see her Wife as often was a dampener. Dr. Gaster was also a bit, overzealous, with the project, it was only a matter of time before the madman created some temporal superflux that blew up half the block, even if she wouldn’t be anywhere near as prestigious without his guidance, despite Sans’ reservations for letting them near him.

(I will be adding more to this AU btw, it’s in my top 3 faves lmao)

Bonus:

Animation I’ve done for Helical Sans to explain how his AU hopping works

47 notes · View notes

hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 2 days

Text

Wish

For the first time in years Joel acknowledges his birthday and wishes on a star. He gets pulled into the past and relives his birthday, the day that changed everything.

Words: 1.7k+

Warnings: all of the emotions. Sadness, depression, but also happy moments and hopefulness :)

*part of @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge*

Main Masterlist

---

September 25, 2033

It’s almost Joel’s birthday. Again.

Over the years, he’d let it pass without thinking about it. Losing track of the days was easy while he roamed, too caught up in trying to survive.

But now, in Jackson, time isn’t as elusive. Joel wakes up knowing that Mondays and Tuesdays are for patrolling, Wednesdays and Thursdays are for guard duty, Fridays are for helping with construction, and the weekends he keeps to himself.

The powers that be in Jackson also keep track of time, mostly for crop rotation and organizing the seasons, giving structure to the lives of its citizens. That means Joel has been aware of his birthday this year, creeping closer and bringing along memories he hates.

This year, he can’t live in blissful ignorance while it comes and goes, especially with Tommy around to remind everyone. So instead, he runs from it.

Joel walks down the soft, snowy streets of Jackson with his camping gear strapped to his back. He told Tommy he was going outside the walls tonight, making up some excuse about scouting a building that might have supplies to scavenge.

It was a lie.

Joel needed space—a place where he could wallow in solitude when the old feelings haunted him as his birthday approached.

With his gathered supplies, Joel mounts his favorite horse and rides out of the commune, waving to Tommy atop the lookout tower.

“See ya when you get back! And happy early birthday, big brother!” Tommy yells down.

Joel winces at the reminder and rides off into the distance.

---

Hours later, Joel makes his way to a familiar spot in the forest, a clearing he often visits while out on runs.

This hidden clearing, nestled deep among the trees and brush, is spacious enough for him to see the stars twinkling overhead while remaining safely concealed from any lurking dangers.

He sits by a small fire, eating his rations and gazing up at the night sky, lost in thought. He reflects on how he ended up here, all that he’s been through and all that he's done, dragging himself deeper and deeper into the pit of despair he so often finds himself drowning in.

Suddenly, something twinkles far above in the night sky, streaking across the tops of the tall oak trees.

A shooting star.

Joel had never seen one before; he had thought they had vanished like so many other pure wonders and good things in the universe. But tonight, he was wrong.

Unable to resist, Joel’s eyes follow the tiny, sparkling fragment as it glides across the sky. In that moment, he decides to be hopeful just one last time. After all, his birthday is approaching. Despite years of loathing it and skipping celebrations, maybe he deserves to make one wish.

As midnight strikes and the star falls, Joel closes his eyes and makes his wish.

He wishes to no longer hate this day. He longs to free himself from the burden of September 26th—the day he was born, but also the day he lost his reason for living, the day he lost Sarah. He wishes the memories of despair would lift from his shoulders, that things could have been different. That he could have cherished just one more birthday before everything fell apart and the world went to shit, giving him more good memories to hold onto and keep him company throughout the years.

When the shooting star fades from view and the sky darkens again, Joel feels a wave of silliness wash over him. Of course, his wish wouldn’t come true. With a sigh, he stamps out the fire, crawls into his sleeping bag, hand resting on his rifle, and drifts off to sleep.

---

September 26th 2003

Joel wakes to the sound of an alarm clock blaring.

He bolts upright, heart racing, and instinctively reaches for his gun—only to find nothing there.

As his vision clears, he realizes he’s not in his sleeping bag anymore. He’s in a bed—his bed—from thirty years ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, blinks, and even pinches himself, trying to shake off the dream, but it feels all too real.

Looking around his old room, everything is just as it was on the last day he lived there: rumpled sheets, a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, an old newspaper, and a glass of water on the bedside table.

It’s as if he’s been transported right back to 2003.

Warily, Joel gets out of bed and notices his joints don’t ache as they should. He races to the mirror attached to his dresser and takes in his features. He looks exactly as he did thirty years ago: fewer lines of age and worry, hair short and dark, no grey in sight, and far more muscular. There isn’t even a scar across his nose or temple.

Joel stares at himself in the mirror, breaths coming rapidly. It’s a dream, he tells himself, repeating it like a mantra.

But what if it isn’t? What if everything is as it’s supposed to be? A redo.

Just then, he hears something he never thought he’d hear again, and it takes all his strength not to fall to his knees.

“Daddy!” Sarah yells, her singsong voice bright and clear, just as he always remembered.

She bursts through his bedroom door, grinning from ear to ear—beautiful, whole, and safe.

“Happy birthday, you old fart!” Sarah teases.

Joel bounds across the room, scooping her into his arms.

“Babygirl,” he chokes back tears, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You’re okay.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, her voice muffled against his chest. “Why are you being so weird?”

He doesn’t want to scare her, so he pulls himself together, trying to act like this isn’t the most magnificent moment of his life—a blessing to have another chance with his girl.

Gently, Joel loosens his grip and smiles down at her, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

“I love you so much,” he tells her.

“I love you too, Dad. I wish you didn’t have to work today. Working on your birthday is so lame.”

She’s right. That is lame. So, Joel does what he should have done the first time around: he pulls out his old cellphone and calls his boss to take the day off.

“Does that mean I get to skip school too?” Sarah jokes.

“Well, it’s only fair,” Joel says, a grin spreading across his face.

Sarah’s eyes widen. “Really?!” she squeals, excitement radiating from her.

“Why not?”

---

Joel meets Sarah in the kitchen, and together they spend the morning making pancakes and dancing to their favorite tunes. When Tommy arrives, Joel manages to talk him into skipping work as well.

“Come on, Tommy, you’ve never complained about skipping work before,” Joel teases.

“Fine,” Tommy says, his mouth full of pancake. “But when I’m short on rent this month, I’m counting on you to back me up.”

The three of them enjoy breakfast together, relishing their time as a family.

They spend the day having fun together, going to the park for Sarah to show off her soccer skills, stopping into town for ice cream on the way home, and lounging around on the couch, soaking in the quality time.

They end the day with a movie—a birthday tradition featuring "Curtis and Viper 2." This year, they even have a cake since Joel was able to skip work to pick one up.

With bellies full of sugar, Joel, Tommy, and Sarah are all sleepy-eyed on the couch, watching the end credits roll, when Sarah suddenly perks up.

“Present time!” she cheers, darting to her bedroom. Moments later, she returns with a small box in her hands.

“You got me something?” Joel asks, pretending to be just as surprised as when he first opened his birthday gift.

Sarah hands him the box and settles next to him on the couch. “You kept complaining about your broken watch, so I figured… you know.”

Joel opens the box to reveal the watch he prized above all else. He picks it up delicately, admiring the shine of the silver and the smooth, unbroken glass of the watch face.

“You like it?” Sarah asks, her voice tinged with nerves.

“Honey, this is nice,” Joel replies, tapping the watch. “But I think it’s stuck.”

“What?” Sarah exclaims incredulously. “No way! I just got it fixed—”

Joel bursts into laughter, and Tommy joins in.

“Oh ha ha, you got me,” Sarah concedes, rolling her eyes. “That was lame.”

“Where’d you get the money for this?” Joel asks, placing the watch around his wrist and snapping it into place.

“Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs.”

“Nice, kid. Real proud of you,” Joel laughs, playing along.

“Maybe you can help me out with this month’s rent then,” Tommy jokes from the other end of the couch.

“Thank you, honey,” Joel says, pulling Sarah in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “I love it.”

Soon after, Sarah falls asleep on the couch, leaving Joel and Tommy some time together. Joel appreciates this; he’s missed his brother, and it weighs on him how their relationship has deteriorated over the years.

“Wanna go out to the bars to celebrate?” Tommy asks after a while.

“Hell no,” Joel replies. “Your ass will end up getting arrested.”

“Not fair! That only happened once!” Tommy whines.

“And it sure as hell will happen again if I don’t keep you in check.”

“Whatever,” Tommy concedes, settling back into the couch and scrolling through TV channels in search of something to watch.

“I’m gonna take her up to bed,” Joel says, nodding toward Sarah before standing and gently scooping her into his arms.

He carries his sleeping daughter to her room one last time, tucking her in with a kiss on the forehead. Instead of leaving, he wants to soak up every moment with her, as if any could be his last. So, Joel kicks off his boots and slides into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her.

He falls asleep with a full heart and a smile on his face, grateful for the best birthday he’s ever had.

---

September 27th 2033

When he opens his eyes again, Joel wakes up on the cold, hard ground to birds chirping in a forest clearing. He should feel disappointed to be back in the present, but instead, he chooses gratitude. Grateful for the chance to relive the last moments with his daughter. Grateful for a wealth of new memories to carry with him through the years.

He realizes that maybe next year, when his birthday rolls around, he’ll remember the laughter and dancing in the kitchen with Sarah instead of the horrors that have haunted him for so long. The warmth of those moments will be a beacon, guiding him away from despair and toward hope.

With a deep breath, Joel rises to meet the day, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

#roll a trope challenge #joel the last of us #Joel and Sarah deserve all the happiness in the world I love them so much my sweet babies #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou joel #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #birthday #september 26 #sarah miller #tommy miller

35 notes · View notes

thekiltongrammarwriter · 2 days

Text

So what can I do, so you feel it too?

Pippa fitz Amobi x fem reader

Summary: Jealous Pippa Fitz Amobi...need I say more?

Warnings: Best friends to lovers, childhood best friend Pippa fitz Amobi, confused reader, Pippa being a jealous girl, chaotic, attempted sexual assault, abusive boyfriend, angst, fluff at the end.

Authors note: This strayed very much from the original fluffy one-shot I had in mind, but honestly I love the idea of Pip stewing in absolute jealousy and saving the reader from peril. Again I feel like this is absolute trash and belongs in the bin, but I wanted to get this out soon.

words: 2.75k

Pip’s eyes trayed from her chemistry textbook, blue glazed eyes trailing subconsciously to your side of the room, where you sat straight, eyes protected by a pair of wide set chemist goggles that hid your perfect coloured hues. Pip almost wished she could have rushed over and pulled the goggles off, just to see the wide patterns of colours and constellations that she had only noticed yesterday upon your walk home together.

It kept replaying in her mind, the image of you in your kilton grammar skirt that was no where near sexy but somehow lately had made Pip’s cheeks red just eying the small amount of thigh that peeked out from the breathable material, making her feel like a teenage boy vying for any patch of skin she could set her eyes upon. The feel of your fingers laced with her own as you both walked the cobble stone streets, the wide charming smirk and cotton eyes that made Pip’s mind spin.

She could not remember exactly when she began to fancy you, that was the rather comical and complex aspect. It was gradual, small things. Maybe it was perhaps the fact that you were an absolute sweetheart beyond belief, that you had a heart so full of love that you were always busy doing something for someone, “a servants heart” as quoted by cara. It was true, when an eight year old Pip had acquired measles you had somehow managed to sneak past her parents with her favourite Cadbury bars and had sat and read to her for hours. The adventures of sherlock holmes had never been greater than that day, watching you read animatedly. ruddy red cheeks and laughter.

One thing was for sure, Pip had it bad. At first she was confident it would go away, this feeling that seemed to kick and bite at her stomach when you were near, when she would catch the scent of your strawberry perfume, artificial but on you it made her head spin. when she would see your wide smile as you would spot her in the courtyard. But then all that infatuation had only proved to be volatile because no sooner where you making googly eyes at Mason Poldark. Mason Poldark with ridiculous kind eyes and side swept blonde hair. With his average marks and lower IQ. Pip had first found out after you had admitted to him kissing you in the school courtyard, Pip could still remember the feeling. The way her stomach had dropped and all she could see was the fact that you were blushing. With stars in your eyes.

It had taken all her strength to smile, to seem happy, because she should have been happy, because if anyone deserved love it was you. You, with your stupid good heart and sweet eyes. “I am sure you’ll have many many happy years together” Pip had spewed out through trembling lips, lying about feeling ill and racing home on shaky trembling legs. The tears didn’t come as easily, Cara had came round with the emergency bag of crisps and Cadbury bars. “They wont last a week, I give it a full two weeks. Want to bet? Ill bet a full 5 quid y/n breaks it of with him by Friday, or they have a utter ridiculous falling out in the canteen like mason’s last girlfriend, practically dumped him on the spot in the que”.

“She was looking at him with those eyes”.

Cara upon eying Pip and her tear stained eyes had sighed, moving to lay her head on the small girl’s shoulder. “this is why I told you to stop falling in love with your best friend. Why didn’t you ask her out to the disco dance last year like I said!” she playfully pinched, “would have saved you a lot of worry”.

It would have. “A lot of heartache you mean” pip’s words were cold, even as she fell into Cara’s embrace, her tears cascading out of her eyes, she had no energy left to cry, to sob, to have her chest heave with all the pain of losing you. Because it wasn’t as simple as you having a boyfriend. It was the feeling, the knowing that you would eventually drift away. Spending less and less time with pip, until eventually all that was left was kind smiles in the school corridors and small chat if you ever had a run into at the market.

"It was the way she was looking at him Cara…She was looking at him with those eyes. Those beautiful kind eyes…MY Eyes….they should be mine…I’ve looked into them long enough to know what colour they are…”

“While I enjoy your theatrics you seem to forget just how much y/n is attached to you. I doubt she’ll let some smelly boy ruin her relationship with you. Remember that one time you fell of that tree and broke your arm? Who got you to hospital? She did. Even drove faster than we all would have liked. Things will work out for themselves pip. It just takes time”.

Time. A cruel and evil word to Pippa Fitz Amobi. You were still the same with her, yet there was a difference. A rather big difference. There were times you would cuddle into her, lay your head on her lap and it was like one big breath of relief. For both of you. Pip would find herself closing her eyes, feeling your chest rise and your head on her shoulder, the way you would giggle at something comical on the telly. She'd take all this and store it in her heart. Wonder if this how your boyfriend felt, did his heart race in his chest when you would giggle?

Did he savor the feeling of your soft hand caresses? Of your sweet soft smiles that filled Pip’s inside with butterflies??

The first week was hard to swallow, Pip was almost sure she would die of heart failure. She had never felt this way before, about anyone. Watching you with him, his hands on your waist, disgustingly feeling you up while you prattled on. Of having him sit in front of her in the canteen, stuffing his gob while asking you to get him a coke…and the way you instantly had done it. That was the worst part. The way you Eyed him with soft eyes and a hint of insecurity laced in your hues. like you were worried you weren’t enough. Pip had gone early that day. Couldn’t stomach it. She had rushed home on shaky trembly legs, had cried herself to death in the shower. Holding her knees to her chest as she wished with all her might she hadn’t fallen in love with you.

You were hers. Had been before any bloke had come into the picture. Sleepovers with strawberry laces and that utter familiarity of each other. Pip knew things about you that others didn’t. She knew when your grandfather died you had refused to eat anything for a full day, even refused to get out of bed for Sunday service. So when your birthday came round Pip had a necklace specially made, a beautiful golden locket with a picture of your grandfather as he held a baby version of you. You had cried upon her presenting it. Eyed her with eyes so soft and full of emotion that Pip could remember thinking that she had never seen anything half as beautiful as you.

she knew that when your father had his affair you never truly trusted anyone. That you felt inadequate like you had no true worth. Pip was the one to take you deep into the woods, by the glimmered lake. Had held you as you keeled to your knees and cried, screamed, and yelled such wicked cruel things about your father. But she knew it was the little girl inside you aching and angry. She had held you till your cheeks had stained and you could no longer cry.

Which was why it made her so…sick. It was a type of illness that made her heart ache, made her filled to the brim with such a roaring anger she couldn't even be in the same room with him. She told herself it would go away in time. This feeling. So Pip busied herself with studies, endless homework, and revision. Little by little she was pulling away from you. Even Cara could see it, the way you had begun to corner Pip as she came out from her after-lunch classes, her blue hues refusing to meet your own.

"I haven't seen you in a while" you had commented, looking far more pale than usual, hands nervously at your sides. You were pleading with your eyes, begging Pip to look at you. "I've been studying for our GCSEs coming up, I have so many decisions" Pip spoke, pulling her books into her bag and still refusing to look at you.

"That's good....you were always so clever" you tried to say, the words feeling hollow and cold as Pip merely smiled at you, the hues of her eyes flying past you to Cara. "we're having a Halloween film marathon, it would be lovely if you came".

Pip's grip on her locker hardened, her eyes moving to you, finally eying you. "Is your boyfriend going to be there?" it was said so bluntly that you halted. "well, yes--"

Pip immediately performed some rehearsed excuse you were sure, before walking off in Cara's direction. You had felt like your whole world was shattered, Pip hadnt even so much as looked at you.

Little did you know Pip was feeling the same way, had thrown off Cara's sympathetic gaze. "Its been two months...and she's still dating that--"

"Absolute Plonker" cara filled in the words.

It wasn’t till one movie night that Cara had dragged pip into practically kicking and screaming that you had enough. You had tried to get her attention all evening, even wedging yourself between her and Cara as the movie played. It was like you were hyper aware of Pip. Aware of her blue hues and her slick jaw line. The way even though she hadn't said a word her fingers had somehow clutched onto yours. Her fingers warm despite her deamnor.

The way her fingers held onto your own had made your heart race, a feeling you hadn't felt in weeks. And it was like a relief, a great big relief. And soon you were on top of her, clutching onto her with all your might. Trying desperately not to cry. If the others saw they didn’t comment on it. They simply let you and pip have your much needed moment.

Pip had wrapped her strong arms around you and pulled. Her breathe slowly grew, and it was like she could breathe again.

“Please don’t ever do that again”. Your words were soft and tired. Tired of Pip shutting you out. Pip nodded against your neck, “I-I’m sorry”. It was an horrid excuse Pip knew that. But all that mattered was that you were in her arms. Gentle and soft and pliable.

That is till your lovely boyfriend came into the room, eyes downcast as he eyed you and pip snuggled together. His eyes taking in the way you giggled into her. Immediately he was across the room, grabbing your hand forcefully and pulling you out of Pip’s grip.

“I think we need to have a quick chat-“

And soon he was dragging you out of Cara’s flat and onto the street.

You had simply let him speak, berate you for your actions like you were a ome kind of dog in need of training. He was ballistic, no sight of the charming schoolboy you had fallen for. His hand was firm against your wrist, squeezing till it burned and you had to beg him to stop. He was angry, blue eyes hollow. He didn’t like how close you and Pip were. Had never liked it. Had always commented on the creepy way Pip would leer at him in the canteen. Like he was a suspect on her person of interest list.

You had tried to rebuttal, saying you didn’t think the relationship was working anymore and it wasn’t serving you both when he had had began to grab you by your waist and pin you to the car. His aggressive hands flying to your pants, unzipping your jeans with fast and furious hands.

“Mason get the fuck off me!” You had begun to say, but he covered your mouth, pushing you farther against the car, “Shut up! Shut up y/n!!”

Suddenly his hands halted, his body frozen. Glass particles fell against the ground. Pip stood behind him, a glass of a now broken cola glass in her hands. Her eyes were wild and hyper-focused on you. Immediately she had sprung into action, moving to you over Markus’s body. Her hands are coming to zip up your jeans, and her fingers are shaky.

“Are you alright? He didn’t—“

You shook your head, moving to dive into her soft arms, wrapping around you firmly, like a protective shield. Pip’s fingers wound in your hair as she cradled you to her chest, her breathing coming fast as she eyed Markus unconscious on the floor. After a few moments she spoke, “I’ll have to phone the police. And you’ll have to write a statement. He attempted to sexually assault you..I knew he was no good for you”. The way Pip’s fingers had dug into your skin made you shiver and soon her touch loosened.

After a hectic week of having to deal with police and Mason’s accusations, you were more than tired. Exhausted. You had apologized to Pip more times than you could count on one finger, begging her to forgive you for such an awful decision. Pip had shaken her head and said in that sweet yet firm voice you had nothing to be sorry for. Yet you couldn't forgive yourself.

So when Cara Ward had come into the canteen whilst you and Pip sat side by side, skin to skin, with a giant charming smile as she slid into the seat, “Girls weekend. Fancy it?”.

Pip’s brows had risen, “a girl's weekend?”.

Cara nodded, “I’ll plan it of course! Come on! You two have been all grumpy girls lately and you could really use a break”. You had been the one to agree.

So when you had showed up at Pip’s house with no Cara in sight you had begun to feel like this was Cara’s way of making you and Pip talk. Of course, you two had talked since the incident, Pip had been with you every second of the day, with her calm her protective blue eyes. But you two had never spoken about what Mason had said. About you loving Pip more. Because it was true.

You had loved Pip more than Mason. And you would have picked her any day.

“Cara’s bailed. Says Naomi is being sick and she doesn’t want to bring germs” Pip spoke, getting off the phone, blue eyes rolling at Cara’s words.

You giggled, “well perhaps…it’s nice. Just the two of us”.

Pip’s pale cheeks turned crimson, her eyes catching yours. Her eyes falling into your lips, making your stomach twist.

“Perhaps it is.”

The familiarity of Pip and her jokes and the way her blue hues glowed as she giggled matched with her fair cheeks had made you wonder.

Had you ever loved anyone as much as you did her? All your life her love for you had been held on a pedestal. Even Mason had never ever made you feel like Pip had. It was a love that made your knees weak. She was everything to you. And you only had just realized it. She had saved you. Like your own knight in shining armor.

“I love you”. The words had come out fast and Pip’s eyes had widened, but soon her lips had upturned and her eyes had begun to glisten, like she could finally breathe.

And then you were reaching for her, fingers colliding in her hair as your mouths collided, hot heat seeping through your veins. She tasted like home. And the way pip was moaning and gripping onto you with sweet yet firm hands made you all more sure of your feelings. she deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with a confidence and hunger that left you breathless. She nipped at your bottom lip, her teeth grazing against the sensitive skin as she pulled away for a moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

After minutes of hot lips and eager curious tongues pip pulled apart, her silver hues dark and dilated, her forehead against yours, her eyes soft and so full of love you thought you would burst.

“I thought you’d never say it”.

#agggtm #emma myers x reader #emma myers #pippa fitz amobi #pippa fitz amobi x fem reader #A kilton grammar original work #not my best writing #i absolutely hate this with my whole heart

32 notes · View notes

race-week · 3 days

Note

obviously Merc has a shit strategy but what happened there even it seemed like they truly are deliberately sabotaging lewis with fuck up strategies ever since then to make George look good or to make it look like he has what it takes to beat Lewis ( even deliberately shooting Lewis confidence for Ferrari next year even ) like toto is deliberately using lewis as their experimental person for the car and he can't say no to it like how many times has LH ignored toto just this season it tells me something that he never really is friends or that close with Toto to begin with and only close because of Niki lauda

Is this you?

In all seriousness let’s take our tinfoil hats off for like 2-3 minutes please?

Okay so first of all,

I think from the very beginning they’ve used the wrong word regarding these ‘experiments’ because what they are is set up changes. People are acting like these set up changes are Mercedes throwing shit at the wall and hoping it sticks, when that is not the case.

What they are/will be is the driver complaining of understeer in a corner or oversteer or just general poor handling of the car and the engineers go back to the data from the track, from the wind tunnel and from the simulator and use that data to make educated changes to the car that should fix said issue.

They aren’t just going “oh I wonder what will happen if I change this part drastically”, these are typically very minute changes.

What the problem is, is that the Mercedes seems to have quite a narrow operating window and is quite sensitive to other changes, so track temperatures, wind, distance to other cars etc, and it’s not always easy to have all of this data to hand, hence the cars sometimes behave differently in the race (but this goes for all teams).

Now let’s talk about the strategy, I must admit when I heard Hamilton was starting on softs, I raised my eyebrows a bit but I was also somewhat commending Mercedes, recently (the past few years) they’ve been a bit too safe with strategies and this is something they’ve been criticised for a bit, and this was actually a good opportunity to try something.

Now looking at the data it makes sense what they did it, if you do the same exact strategy as those in front of you, you will always be behind them. Plus up until that point Norris had never held P1 after the opening lap, so Hamilton starting on softs on the clean side of the grid made sense as a way to make up a position or two and then pit under the safety car which was expected (because it’s Singapore)

Also Hamilton is an adult, so don’t infantilise him, he can make his own decisions, I highly doubt that he had absolutely no say in his starting tyres or his race set ups.

Toto Wolff and Mercedes aren’t just strapping random things to the car and saying ‘right off you go’ there’s meetings about these things, countless meetings over the course of a weekend.

Teams don’t deliberately sabotage their drivers, because at the end of the day they need the drivers to score points and make the team look good, Mercedes in particular want to try to stay as close as possible to the teams in front, in particular McLaren as getting beat by your customer team isn’t a great look for them.

Now have a think about what I’ve said before you inevitably put your tinfoil hat back on

#al’s asks #I read this ask before I went into the gym this morning #and did not have the energy to answer it then #so instead you get an answer after my borderline traumatic drive to work in torrential rain

30 notes · View notes

sweetladymoon · 2 days

Note

I was so happy to read your explanation on Lando and Oscar, tysm!! 🥰✨🌸 can you explain to me what is going on with Logan Sargeant? I may have no idea who that is but i am very interested in The Tea, and i am always happy to defend someone who deseves it lol

Have a great day!! 🌸✨💙💙

Oh absolutely I can! This is gonna be a long one so grab a snack!🤭💗🫶

Logan Sargeant is a driver that a lot of people had really great expectations for. He excelled in the feeder series (F4,F3, F2, basically the series you drive in before you get into F1, even though driving in these series does not mean you are guaranteed a seat in F1). Logan was very close to winning the F3 championship and was also the first American to ever win a F2 race. Here’s a link to a Twitter thread about his junior racing career in case you’re interested in details:

He was driving for the Williams Academy at the time and in 2023 he got promoted to a F1 Seat with Williams. Many people question if he was taken out of F2 too soon and tbh I do think so. He could have used some more experience and maybe then we would have seen a different F1 career from him.

As a side note: Williams is not a top team. They used to be really good in the 80s and 90s and even won the Constructors Championship 9 times in total but had a bit of a fall off since then. The biggest issue for them is money. They don’t have the same kind of cash as the top teams which means they can’t develop their car at the same speed as other teams and also can’t upgrade it as regularly. They’re not fighting for wins or even podiums at the moment but mere points. Logan’s rookie season wasn’t great tbh. He made mistakes, he crashed and was also a bit unlucky throughout the season. At the end, he managed to score only 1 point which brought him to the bottom of the driver’s standings (with that 1 point he also became the first American driver to score points in F1 in 30 years though…so small wins I guess).

He got a lot of backlash from the fans and media and many wanted to see him gone from the sport. Williams however decided to keep him around for 2024. His fans hoped that this season would go better than the last and that he’d finally be able to prove his worth, but it was evident from very early on that Williams didn’t care that much about him and wouldn’t keep him around for 2025 no matter what he did. The team principal, James Vowles, played a big part in this. He kept badmouthing Logan to the media and, according to Logan, also did not give him feedback after races. Vowles would praise Logan’s teammate Alex Albon and then go on to talk about how if Logan wanted to keep his seat he would have to start performing in a similar matter which was unfair for many reasons. For one, Alex has been in F1 longer and has far more experience. Secondly, they weren’t even driving equal cars for most of the season. The 2024 season so far has been all that good. The car was pretty bad, but Logan’s in particular was nothing more than a glorified shopping cart. They couldn’t afford to update both cars, so they gave Alex the better car while Logan drove a car that was overweight and used spare parts from the previous season. However, JV never communicated this clearly when talking to the media, so a lot of people just believed that Logan was underperforming.

And tbh even when Logan was driving the inferior car he was not that far off from Alex’s times, so JV’s comments were also quite unnecessary. They started having equal cars from Silverstone (12th race of the season) on and Logan managed to finish P11 which is still outside of the points but was a huge improvement from previous races. But even that didn’t impress JV and that point everyone had kind of already accepted that he would be no longer on the grid the following year. Personally, I suspected as much since the race in Melbourne (3rd race). When Alex crashed his car during a practice session, Williams couldn’t repair the car because they didn’t bring a spare chassis. They knew they could only compete with one car and decided to give Logan’s car to Alex for the weekend, which was quite unfair of course seeing as Logan didn’t make a mistake and still had to suffer. It also showed that Williams and JV in particular had no faith in Logan’s abilities at all.

During the summer break it was announced that Logan would be replaced the following season, which didn’t surprise anyone but we thought we’d at least get to see him finish out the season…well we didn’t. He returned for a single race after the break. During a rainy practice session, he lost control of the car and had a really nasty crash. The car was a wreck and even caught fire. Logan was thankfully okay but had to start the race the following day from the back of the grid. He once again didn’t score points but I still think Zandvoort was one of his most impressive races still. Two days later, it was announced that he would be replaced for the rest of the season.

Many thought the crash and the cost that came with repairing the car afterwards were the reason for letting him go early but JV pretty much said that this wasn’t factored into the decision. They fired him because they thought they finally had managed to bring the car to a level for points to be a possibility and they didn’t believe that Logan had the ability to score any…which once again must’ve felt like a slap in the face for Logan.

They replaced him with Franco Colapinto who had until that point still driven in F2. Many questioned the decision of replacing an inexperienced driver with an even more inexperienced driver, especially because Williams’ aim was to fight for points. Alex expressed his sympathies when asked about the decision. He also made sure to point out that he thinks Logan is incredibly talented, has the pace, and will succeed in whatever he’s going to do next. (Here's also the lovely goodbye post he made) Oscar who was his teammate in F3 and drove against him in F2 also talked about how Logan could never show his true potential in F1 and how he is one of the quickest guys he ever drove against.

JV on the other hand talked about how he thinks Logan has reached his potential and basically said that he’s not good enough which is just a shit thing to do. You already fired him, what more do you want? JV has been acting highly unprofessional in many regards btw and so many comments he’s made (also about other drivers and situations) have been plain weird.

Franco has been doing really well. He even managed to score 4 point in his second F1 race in Baku, which was also the first race of the season in which both Williams cars scored points. Instead of just focusing on how good he’s doing for a rookie however, everyone keeps comparing him to Logan. Fans, media, even the commentators during the race keep bringing up Logan and how much worse he did compared to Franco without acknowledging that they never drove the same car. We’ll never know how Logan would have done in this version of the Williams, just like we’ll never know how Franco would have done in the earlier part of the season when the car was still shit. The comments are just unnecessary. You can compliment and praise a driver without dragging another driver’s name through the mud.

Logan has been pretty quiet since he got fired. There was a statement posted on his app but it got deleted soon after. We know he’s currently in the US with his girlfriend, friends and family which I’m relieved about. He looked really down in so many of his interviews. I can’t imagine the strain it must have taken on his mental health to not only have the media and fans against you but to also have your team (aka the people who are supposed to support you) talk about how disappointing your performance is. While I do miss him on the grid I’m almost glad he was able to leave this toxic environment behind.

He was spotted at the last IndyCar race of the season in Nashville that he was invited to by his best friend who drives for Andretti. There have been rumours all year if he might join IndyCar as well next season. Yesterday it was announced that he’ll do a test drive with Meyer Shank Racing in November. While they have no more available seats for next season, it will still be an opportunity for him to showcase his abilities and might open up some doors with other teams who are still looking for drivers to sign. A few haters have once again spouted bullshit and tried shit talking him but I’m just trying to be optimistic and hope that the whole IndyCar business will work out for him and that he’ll find a team who’s willing to support him the way he deserves.

I hope I didn’t bore you to death but that’s pretty much all there is to the whole Logan situation.😅 After all the unfair treatment and hate he’s been subjected to his fans have become even more protective of him. Also look at him. How could anyone be mean to this guy🤧:

#i'm always happy to yap about logan #f1 #logan sargeant #ask #tasteofsummersnow

19 notes · View notes