#Take a look at the lists of what they have

[warlockslovetomeow]

time flies...

when captain jenna assigns you to infiltrate an intel hub disguised as a jazz club in the N109 zone, you make one simple request to the universe: don’t let me run into my ex. that prayer goes unanswered. but others? you might just get lucky.

pairing: exbf!sylus x female reader warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, porn w plot, porn w feelings, exes w unresolved tension, possessive behavior / mild jealousy, loooots of banter, thigh rubbing build up, dirty talk, like filthy, bratty!mc, sylus wants you so bad, walk him like a dog sis, oral (m & f), eating from the back, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, mating press, cumming inside a/n: wrote this with one hand!!!!! i need this man so bad!!!!!!!! wc: 5.9k

"....located in the N109 zone. any questions?"

and then she shot you. captain jenna—your fierce and until approximately five seconds ago, loyally trusted commander—had just fired her pistol at you within point-blank range.

you swallowed the bullet lodged in your throat before responding, reaching deep within yourself to appear as neutral as possible.

"no, captain!"

damn it all. of course your previous experience in the N109 zone would put you at the top of the list for this mission. unknown to your captain though, you'd rather chew on knives than risk a chance encounter with your ex boyfriend.

but since the intel she's assigned you to look into involves a new strain of protocore tech that mimics wanderer signatures, making it nearly undetectable and dangerous for all factions, it was high priority. and unfortunately for you, the same thought was likely running through his mind.

it'd been months since your messy breakup, months since you've spoken to each other. he wouldn't dare try anything again, especially in a compromised place like a covert jazz club.

when it came to sylus, however, you knew better.

you run through the briefing details once more in your head. this intel hub operates like most others in the N109 zone: secretive and precise. a surefire way to get yourself killed in places like these is by looking confused or unsure.

your orders are to tell the bouncer you're searching for a man wearing green inside, the color being code for the information category. according to association intel, green signifies everything related to protocores. once inside, you're to head to the bar and order an emerald isle, the contents being a gin and mint martini. the mint serving as a tip-off that you're looking for fresh, new information.

from there, you're basically on your own. the guise of a jazz club is intentional, patrons are to fraternize with their drinks visible in hand, searching for people with similar colored ones. once you find someone, you relay what drink you ordered, and if they have information on such a topic, they'll take a sip from your drink.

the catch? no refills allowed. if the person has irrelevant information, you've wasted part of your opportunity.

you saunter up to the entrance of the club, your black maxi dress shaping your body perfectly and almost causing you to disappear into the low lighting, exactly as planned. if the situation were to get threatening, your dress wouldn't be a risk.

however, this mission required you to look enticing while eyes were on you. the low, fishtail back and thin straps were sure to prompt onlookers to approach you and chat. you'd keep them in line, if not with words then with your loaded gun strapped firmly to your thigh.

you smile sweetly at the bouncer, saying everything required and getting inside without breaking a sweat. the club is busy, but not overwhelmingly so. you do a full room scan and mentally note that there are around 8 people with green drinks in hand—all at different levels of fullness. after you order the emerald isle, you make your way to the floor.

time to hunt.

the moment you walked in, sylus choked on his drink.

of course you'd be the one sent here. of course the same woman who hadn’t so much as looked at him in months would stroll back into his life with a drink coded for protocore intel.

the very thing that blew everything apart.

you hadn’t changed a bit. still walked like you owned the room. still wore danger like perfume. and those straps clinging to your body? a challenge written in silk. that dress wasn’t for him, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you knew he’d be here. if some part of you wanted him to look.

hell, he was looking. couldn’t stop, actually.

he leaned back in his seat on the second-floor balcony, his eyes locked on your every move through the dim haze and low lights. moments ago, he’d been halfway through a trade with the scrawny male seated across from him. but now, the man might as well be invisible. sylus couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t involve looking at you.

he watched you flash that fake, pretty smile—the one you wore while you were on missions. no one else would know the difference. but he did.

when he saw the color of your drink, he almost laughed. no doubt you were here for information surrounding the new wanderer mimicking tech. the irony twisted like a blade between his ribs.

you hated him for hiding his connections to protocore manufacturing. said it was betrayal. said you couldn't trust someone who kept secrets like that. but you never saw the full picture. he was protecting you from yourself.

you didn’t understand, maybe you still don't, but he hadn’t been lying to hurt you. he knew what getting you involved would cost. he knew you, and the second you found out the truth about what exactly onychinus was sponsoring, it'd drag you into the depths of the mystery surrounding your aether core. he knew you wouldn't be able to stop pursuing it all, no matter what it did to you.

and now, here you were. wading waist-deep into the same fire he lost you to.

sylus clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his glass. he should look away. should let you do what you came here to do.

but then some lowlife in a tacky rust-colored suit slithered up to you, requesting a dance. he was too close. acted too familiar. sylus watched your smile shift into something tight and forced. the kind you used when you were baiting someone.

no.

he wasn’t going to just sit back. not when you were back in his orbit, whether you meant to be or not. and not when he still wanted you just as badly as the day you walked away.

this had to be some sort of punishment. you must’ve pissed off the universe in a past life to end up pressed against a man wearing the ugliest rust-colored suit known to mankind. he smelled like sweat masked with cheap cologne. every inch of him screamed sleaze. yet, here you were, letting him touch you. because, of course, the filthiest bastard in the room had the most valuable intel so far. and with your drink nearly empty, you couldn’t afford to cut the dance short.

his grimy left hand rested on your waist—drifting lower with each passing second—while his other clung to his green drink like he planned to propose to it before the night was over.

"...only sold to the 1%, then trickling downwards to whoever can afford those prices. say darling, you oughta come home with me tonight. there's a lot more i can tell ya, you know, in private." his voice dripped like oil, and as he leaned in to whisper the last part, his fingers slid beneath the open hem of your back.

you resisted the overwhelming urge to pull out your pistol and really show him something private.

instead, you forced a breath and put on a tight smile. a smile that was nowhere near reaching your eyes, barely a curl on your lips. then you steered him back to the reason you were even still breathing the same air. “who are they buying from? is there no logo? no trace of manufacturing?”

“not a thing,” he said, grinning like he thought he was clever. “but I did hear some old abandoned buildings around the N109 zone have been lighting up lately. enough space to test high risk tech in those.”

you could barely hold back your eye roll. the way he spoke, like you owed him something just for opening his mouth, grated on every nerve in your body. and he looked at you like he planned to collect on that imagined debt in full.

“where’s the closest one?” your tone had a sharp edge now. his fingers kept wandering, and your patience was running thin. you needed this conversation over. and this man dead.

"hmm? not far from here. i'd say about—”

he didn’t get to finish.

a tall figure stepped between you and the creep, sliding a hand onto your waist in place of the one you'd been seconds from snapping in half. you didn’t need to look. didn’t need to double check.

you could recognize sylus by touch alone.

“mind if I cut in?” he said smoothly, his voice low and razor-sharp. “this man appears to be more thirsty than classy.”

you sighed. worst timing possible.

"no, thank you. that’s the idea,” you replied coolly, but it didn’t matter.

sylus had already made his move. the shorter man stumbled back, face ghost-white, mumbling something that sounded like an apology—or maybe a prayer—before scurrying off as if sylus had just rearranged his face with a look alone.

then, he turned to you.

he didn’t speak at first, only stared. like he couldn’t breathe, like he couldn’t believe you were real. his gaze swept over you, slow and starving, as if he were trying to memorize every inch before you vanished again. not a trace of a smirk, just a man who’d been sucker punched by the sight of you.

but eventually, sylus flipped the mental switch. he stepped closer, hand outstretched, voice as smooth as sin, "this place was dangerous before you walked in. now, it doesn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at him, unblinking, letting the silence hang just long enough to make your point. the theatrics didn’t impress you, but the corner of your mouth twitched anyway, a reflex you hated. with another sigh you stepped forward, your hand sliding into his like muscle memory.

before you could get a word in, sylus reached for the drink still in your hand. his fingers brushed yours, unhurried and deliberate, as he took it from you without asking to silently relieve the burden.

his other hand found your waist and you let yours rest on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him under your fingertips sending a shiver through you.

it was dangerous how easy it was. how quickly your steps matched the rhythm. how naturally your body leaned into his, like the time apart had never happened. the jazz music swelled around you and you both moved with it like something practiced in another life.

then his mouth was near your ear, voice dipping low as the air between you tightened. “careful. you dance like someone who remembers exactly how I feel.”

“i dance like someone who can’t wait for this song to end," you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

"no," he said, like he knew something you didn't. "you dance like someone pretending the space between us isn't pulling you in.” 

a tense beat passed.

"poetic. a bit too drab for my taste, unfortunately."

“you used to like the way I spoke when it was your name in my mouth.” his voice danced down your spine like a dirty promise, hot enough to make your stomach twist.

you hated it. hated that he still had this hold on you. that months later, you still reacted.

you bit back, voice steady and full of edge. “and you used to listen when I said no.” 

“you never said no when it was just the two of us.”

his tone was so unbothered, so undeniably sylus. you hated how your chest ached at that. you'd buried that version of you with him a long time ago. or at least you thought you had.

you glared at him, trying to telepathically communicate how badly you wanted him to burn.

the song then faded into a slower, darker tune. like even the music knew how deadly this was becoming.

you stepped back, but only a hair. not enough to give him the satisfaction. just enough to remind yourself you still could.

his gaze followed the retreat like it hurt him to let you go. “how did you find out about this hub? did you come alone?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you turned from him. a clean, intentional break. you were done letting him circle you like he still had the right.

but his fingers caught your wrist before you could fully disappear from him again, placing your hand back on his shoulder.

“an emerald isle,” he murmured. “what intel are you here for?”

you looked him dead in the eyes, annoyance painting your features. “sooo many questions. do you always get this chatty when you're trying not to look desperate?"

god, he missed you. missed when you got like this with him. he loved nothing more than when you challenged him, rough and biting.

“just concerned, sweetie. especially if what you know brought you here…" his smile curled as he spoke. "…looking like this.”

“that's too bad. you don’t get to play protective anymore. that role expired." your voice came out flat and cold, like you had rehearsed the indifference.

“mmm. but it seems your feelings for me haven’t, kitten.”

“funny. i don’t remember ever admitting I had them.”

“no? then why are your thighs tensing like they remember everything?” 

your breath hitched. not loud, but enough to make you furious with yourself. heat flushed up your throat, mortification and memory colliding in the worst possible way. you hated that he noticed. hated more that he was right. that your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

you didn’t let the silence stretch. couldn’t let it stretch.

"you're in my way."

sylus tilted his head, the smirk on his lips making your blood boil. “and you’re in my thoughts. every day. every night. doesn’t feel fair, does it?”  

“what’s not fair is how your ego somehow survived our breakup.”  you spoke through gritted teeth, still recovering from his last blow.

“you don’t have to say it," he was grinning now—the bastard. "i can feel it.”  

“what, your neediness?”  you practically spit back, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

“yours, actually. you’re shaking, kitten."

“it’s rage.”  

“mmm. is that what we’re calling want these days?” 

before you could fire off something scathing, sylus wrapped his fingers around your wrist again and this time he pulls. not hard, just enough to close the last of the distance. chest brushing chest, breath mingling in the small space in between your lips.

“you think I don’t know that look in your eyes? that tilt in your hips when you dance near me? you want distance, yet your body keeps inching closer," his voice was low, fever laced into every syllable. "what am I to believe?” 

“i'm working, sylus. this—” you gestured between your bodies, the closeness, the feelings, all of it. “—can’t happen again."

his smirk fades, but not into hurt. into hunger. “then tell me to stop.”

you don't.

his fingers trace the underside of your jaw, measured and daring.

“say it." he murmurs. "say stop.” 

but you don't. you can’t. your lips part, but not for protest. then—

“is there a problem here?” a voice cuts through from behind, snapping the spell. a man steps between you and sylus, eyes flickering between your faces. “doesn’t look like you want to be with him, sweetheart. just say the word.” 

“step back,” sylus says before you can even breathe, his tone icy. possessive. “you’re in her space. that’s the problem.”

the man falters, visibly unsettled by the sharp gleam of red in sylus’ eye. “i’m sure she’d prefer someone who doesn’t drag her around the dance floor.”

sylus smirks at him, deadly calm. “she’s exactly where she wants to be.”

it seems the man recognizes onychinus' leader, because that’s all it takes. the man backs off without another word.

you let the silence settle, pulse still fluttering from both the interruption and everything before it.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tease, turning your head just enough to draw his eyes back to your mouth.

“neither does watching you pretend you don’t miss me,” he shoots back, matching your quip as he always excelled at doing.

“i don’t.”

he smirks. “liar.”

your voice sharpens. “we’re broken up, sylus. don’t you recall?”  

his gaze doesn’t waver. “i remember everything. your laugh. your skin. the way you used to—”

“don’t,” you cut in, voice like a blade. “you don’t get to say those things anymore.”

he leans in anyway, close enough that you can taste the desire radiating off him.

“then stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?” you hiss.

his mouth curved with mischief and warning. “like you want me to follow you upstairs.” 

you blinked, heart slamming so hard it hurt. and for one breath, you let yourself feel it, all the pain he left behind.

then you swallowed it whole, and drowned in him.

as you both slipped out of sight from the crowded dance floor, sylus tugged you closer, kissing you like he’d been starved. your bodies stumbled up the stairs, hands tangled and desperate, a hunger between you that neither could deny. he pressed you against the wall at the top of the stairs, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss an act of claiming. you felt his eagerness press against you and your head swirled deliciously.

“i can feel how badly you want me,” you taunt, chest rising as you fight for composure. “want me so bad you’d drop to your knees if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

"you could make me beg for you. and more." he pressed into you, harder now. his body solid against yours as the air became thick with want. “but we both know you want to be the one on your knees." 

you pull off him with a smirk of your own, opening the closest door and leading him inside. “you think you’re the only one who knows how to play this game?”

once you both stepped into the room, you shove sylus back onto the bed. his handsome face tipped up at you from where he landed, eyes cocky and smug despite being beneath you.

"i’m the one who taught you how to play, sweetie.” 

you lock the door behind you with a click, leaving him on the bed to watch every calculated move you made.

you turn to face him. your steps unhurried, hips swaying like a predator with a plan. his gaze devours you as you reach the center of the room and spin your back to him.

the low hem of your dress dips scandalously, held up only by two delicate straps. you slide one down, then the other. the fabric sinks down your body, every inch a show for the man breathing heavier by the second.

the fabric hits the floor and you step out of it and cross the room. sylus sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread like he's trying not to burst at the sight of you.

you drop to your knees before him, fingers ghosting up his thighs.

you undo his belt like it’s second nature, because it is, but this time there's no soft glances or whispered promises. only tension, sweat, and the sharp edge of something darker.

you shift him out of his underwear and he's already leaking, throbbing for you. you pull him out slow, eyes locked on his like a dare. despite taking him plenty of times before, his huge length still intimidated you. and made your mouth water.

then, with his hard cock still in your hands, you tilt your head back and loll your tongue out with a dirty smile.

“fuck,” he breathes, before leaning forward and spitting directly into your open mouth.

you swirl it around with your tongue, exaggerated and filthy, before letting it drip from your lips straight onto the tip of his cock. you stroke him with it, twisting your wrist just right, watching him twitch and strain in your grasp as you spread the mess down him.

sylus manages a breathless smirk. “has our time apart made you dirtier?” his voice is wrecked. “or have you missed me this much?”

you drag your tongue up his length, lingering on his sensitive vein, then pull back with a wet pop. the action drives him wild, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

your eyes gleam with something wicked. “you’re so much more attractive when you’re moaning for me instead of talking.”

your lips part again, this time to take him in painfully slow. you twirl your tongue around his tip, the taste so familiar it makes your eyes roll back. the mix of fluids slick his cock all the way down to the base, your lips shiny and swollen around him.

then you sink lower and he can’t stop staring. can’t stop twitching in your mouth like he’s about to blow from just the sound of your gag. his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat, and you pull off again with a sinful smirk.

“you always get so twitchy when i barely touch you,” you purr, stroking him with lazy precision. “what happened to that control you're so proud of?”

his jaw tightens at your jab, hands gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles go white. while he did enjoy you challenging him, you were working his last nerve.

you lean in once more, smiling with satisfaction at his reaction. your movement light on his aching cock, suckling and teasing, never committing. your hands move unhurried, your mouth even slower, and his whole body is trembling from restraint.

sylus lets out a low, ruined growl. “keep teasing me and you'll regret it, kitten.”

“is that a threat or a promise?” you whisper, licking along the underside of his shaft. “because it sounds a lot like begging to me.”

his hands tremor like he wants to grab you, but you stay in control. for now.

you now take him with vigor, enough to make him moan, then stop. again. and again. always just a little more, never enough. he's throbbing in your grip, leaking like he could cum from this alone.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re gonna drive me insane.”

you pout with faux innocence. “what, this?” you give him a long, slow lick, eyes full of mockery. “close already?”

and then he snaps.

in a blur of motion, sylus grabs you by the hair, pulls you up, and throws you onto the bed, flat on your back.

you barely have time to gasp before he's on you, all passion and vengeance. he slides between your thighs, yanking your panties off like they personally committed your aggravating acts.

“you wanna tease?” he snarls, breath hot against your inner thigh. “then fucking take it.”

his mouth hovers just above your dripping cunt, teasing you now. his turn to play. he breathes against your folds, lips barely brushing, just enough to make you whimper.

“what’s wrong, sweetie?” he taunts, voice thick with revenge and lust. “thought you liked going slow.”

you reach down and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking his face into you with a growl of your own.

“eat. or i will ride your face and make you regret waiting.”

sylus keens at your words, tongue diving in like a man starved. he loved when you got rough with him, turning him on like no other.

you moan right back at the feeling of him, legs already starting to shake. there's no more teasing in his movements, he’s messy, frantic, seemingly obsessed. his mouth is somehow everywhere at once, like he’s trying to drown in your taste.

you writhe under him, losing every ounce of control you once held. and he doesn’t stop. not even when your thighs close around his head. not even when you scream his name.

there’s no finesse, just open mouthed hunger, his tongue and lips on a mission to touch every part of you. then he adds two fingers, slipping in deep and curling them just right, hitting that spot you never could on your own. you gush around them, soaking his hand, and he groans like the mess is a gift.

you clutch the sheets below you, the sensation too much and not enough. every time his nose nudges your clit, every hit of his perfectly angled fingers, your body jolts. the bed creaks below you as he pushes you closer and closer to that high you've been chasing for months. but nothing, nothing, ever touched you like this.

your orgasm starts barreling toward you and right when you're on the cusp of mind numbing pleasure—

he slows down.

right as your toes curl and your thighs tense, he pulls back. you whine, strung out and soaked.

you’re about to beg when you notice the bed is still shaking. not just from you.

sylus is grinding against the mattress. hard and desperate.

you let out a breathless, evil little laugh. “you’re humping the bed? i’m the one getting eaten alive, and you’re the one falling apart?”

you should’ve stopped there. you really should’ve.

but you smirk, lift your hips so you can meet his eyes, and whisper, “what, couldn’t wait your turn?”

his face changes at that, deep and pissed, then he grabs your hips and flips you onto all fours like you weigh nothing.

“should’ve filled your throat with cum to shut that mouth,” he hisses into your ear.

before you can reply, his hands are spreading you open and his mouth is back on you. from behind.

his tongue laps at your entrance, filthy and unrelenting, while his fingers sneak down to bully your clit in ruthless circles. your arms give out at the same time as your legs begin to buckle, but he doesn’t let you fall. one strong arm wraps around your waist whilst the other pleasures you without mercy.

you greedily grind your ass into his face and he groans at the action like he wants to live between your thighs. you clench around his tongue, fluids mixing together, and the mess just spurs you on further. spurs him on further. the building liquids slide down your legs, coating his face and all he wants is more.

you’re about to fall apart all over again when he pulls away in one fluid motion.

your body collapses onto the bed, shaking from the sudden change. you roll onto your back, dazed and desperate.

sylus wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, not even trying to be subtle, and spreads your legs wide. his eyes drink in the sight, as if your glistening pussy was some divine offering.

you pout, fingers drifting toward your clit, desperate to finish what he stole. but sylus grabs your wrist, pins it above your head, and lines himself up with you. his neglected cock dripping with precum as he slides it between your folds.

you bite your lip at how heavy and huge he is. the head alone makes your thighs tremble.

then he leans down, mouth right against your ear.

“you’re not cumming,” he murmurs, slow and cruel, “unless it’s on my cock.”

your breath stutters. it’s been months since you took him, months since your body was trained for that stretch. he was so big, it hurt. you swallow hard, pride burning at your own words.

"just… not too fast,” you say, trying to stay steady. “okay?”

he tilts his head, mocking you with that fake-soft voice. “of course, sweetie. whatever you need.”

he kissed your forehead like the lover he once was.

then slammed his full length inside you.

your mouth opens in a silent scream. he’s thick, obscene, and the sudden stretch makes your vision fade out. you claw at his biceps, nails digging in, but he doesn't care.

“you thought that bratty little attitude was gonna earn you favors?” he grits out, voice strained and dark with desire.

he pulls out almost completely, then drives back in deeper. harder.

“be good and take it.”

your mind is reeling, your body even worse. you're clenching around him like a vice, almost trying to force him to slow down. he doesn't.

in fact, he lets go of the hand pinning yours above your head and grabs your hips instead, tilting them up and fucking into you faster. he’d force you to take it. you always liked it rough.

"just needed some dick to shut you up, hmm?" he stated, each word hitting with the rhythm of his thrusts.

you almost choke. he was drilling so deep it felt like he was aiming for your throat. his hand then slid over your stomach and pressed down, and he grinned above you like a smug devil he is when he felt himself moving inside you.

"shut up—nghh—'n fuck me harder." you manage out, your tone not matching the challenge in your voice even slightly.

your body remembered him now. that stretch, that angle. you were soaking him, walls practically begging for him. his cock slipped in and out like he owned it. because he does.

sylus realizes it too, because he leans in, pushing impossibly deeper before gloating in your face. "this pussy missed me. she’s crying for it."

you try to snap something back, something sharp, anything to bite into his smugness. but it dies on your tongue the second his hips grind into yours. his cock drags deep and slow, just once, and your whole body locks up. the stretch is somehow overwhelming and perfect. like you were made for him.

your fingers scramble over his back, clinging to him for stability, but all you can manage is a strangled, “fuck, sylus—”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, but you feel it. his gaze snaps to yours, suddenly serious. his body stills then, cock twitching inside you. it seemed like he was searching for something in you that he was too scared to name.

he leans in once more, but this time not to hit deeper. to look at you, really look. his breath fanned your lips, your cheeks, your throat.

"you missed me too," he says. no question in it.

you want to lie. bite back with something petty and proud. but your pussy clenches around him like it’s answering for you, loud and shameless.

your chest heaves as you stare up at him. your throat aches from holding back all the things you swore you’d never say.

and still, you whisper it.

“yours.”

sylus goes rigid at your confession.

you feel a shudder pass through his entire body. he clenched his jaw while his hands trembled against your waist, grip tightening. then something breaks. he manhandles your thighs up and wide, body looming over yours.

“say it again.” he demands in between guttural grunts. “say you’re mine.”

you wail at the change in position, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and pleasure twisting in your belly like a storm. “'m yours. fuck—sylus, i’m yours.”

his chest pins your thighs to your torso, folding you nearly in half. the angle makes your head dizzy, an entirely new world of bliss. you’re split open, completely at his mercy, and your cunt pulses around him like it knows it’s where it belongs.

“fucking say it while I ruin you.” his voice cracks, hips pistoning forward again and again. he’s completely unraveling, thrusts messier now, more desperate.

you chant it like a mantra. “yours, yours, yours—”

“look at you,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest. “taking me so good now. tight little pussy just needed a reminder.”

his pace is brutal and unrelenting. your thighs shake, pinned wide open, helpless to do anything but feel every inch of him. be filled by him.

his eyes don’t leave yours. there’s hunger there, but you also notice something raw too. that longing feeling you thought only you felt.

sylus dips down, lips brushing yours, and murmurs against your mouth. “you really gonna go back out there like this?”

you blink at him, dazed. “huh?”

“full of me,” he snarls, hitting deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs. “my cum soaking your thighs while you try to finish your mission. think you can keep it in?”

you moan loudly at his filthy words and he grins against your cheek.

“say you want it. say you want me to fill you up.”

you don’t even hesitate.

“yes please! sylus, want it!”

“say it right.” he commands, snapping his hips so hard the bed frame groans. “tell me who you belong to.”

“you! ’m yours—fuck—please cum inside me!”

he loses it.

his grip tightens bruisingly on your hips, dragging you down to meet every savage thrust. the drag of his cock is erratic, his body shuddering above yours.

“gonna fill you up,” he pants, “make you mine all over again—shit!—you’re gonna leak for me, kitten. gonna walk outta here with my cum dripping down your thighs and everyone knowing you let me claim you.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends you spiraling. your pussy clenches tight, fluttering around him like your body’s already begging for it. the tension in your belly coils impossibly tight. every hard, brutal thrust inside you making your vision blur.

“sylus” you gasp, pitch high and breathless, “close, please—”

“you wanna cum on my cock?” he asked, slamming into you with the full force of his weight. “wanna milk me while I fill this cunt up?”

you nod frantically, tears spilling down your cheeks. “yes, yes! please, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you!”

sylus drops his head to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. "go on, then. show me how bad you want me."

and you do.

you shatter with a loud cry, your orgasm hitting like a wave that floods your senses. you clench tight around him in spasms that make your back arch off the bed and your fingers dig into his back to anchor yourself. you sob his name as your pussy pulses around him, your entire body wrung out and shaking.

“that’s it,” he moans deeply, his rhythm stuttering as your walls clamp down. “so tight—”

and he’s right there with you.

with a sharp groan, he drives himself deep to bury every inch inside. his hips jerk and his cock twitches as he spills into you, hot and thick. his voice breaks as he utters your name out like a prayer. one hand squeezes your thigh tight while the other trembles on your waist, trying to hold himself together while he fills you up.

you’re shaking, panting into his shoulder, pulling him close as his warmth spills into you. he doesn’t pull out. not yet. just stays there, breathing ragged against your skin, forehead pressed to yours.

your body trembles with aftershocks, cunt fluttering weakly around his cock, milking every drop from him like your body refuses to let him go.

“fuck,” he whispers, voice almost gentle. “you were made for me.”

you’re still dazed, your brain lagging behind the high. you can feel him dripping out of you already, warm and slick between your thighs.

he leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple, like the lover he is.

“you better squeeze those legs shut when you leave,” he murmurs, cocky smirk creeping back in. “i don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.”

a/n(2): first time writing sylus, hope i did him justice >_< likes and reblogs r super appreciated, lmk your thoughts on this!!!

@mcdepressed290 here is your tag friend as requested. hope u enjoy!!!

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: How will your future spouse pursue you ⋆˙⟡

✧˚. How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

✧˚. If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here!😊🦋

✧˚. For personalized 18+ readings, click here!

✧˚. My Ko-fi link: here 🫶🏻

✧˚. My Masterlist🫶🏻

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE I

Cards Pulled: king of swords, knight of cups reversed, king of pentacles, the sun, the tower, 2 of swords

This spread is literally chef’s kiss, like, it starts cute, dips into delulu, explodes your world, then somehow ends up in wholesome husband material land?? I’m SCREAMING. Okay.

Right off the bat, you’re gonna think this person is cold. PERIOD. I’m sorry, but King of Swords as the first card, this ain’t some gushy softie sliding into your DMs with heart emojis and “wyd baby.” Nah, theyre giving emotionally disciplined, calculating, and “I only let three people see the real me and you’re not on the list… yet. YET” they might come across lowkey intimidating at first, like, the kind of person who’s quiet in group settings but throws out that one sarcastic comment that’s so sharp it makes everyone laugh and feel personally attacked. 😭💀

BUT TRUST ME, they’re watching you. Like… a hawk. They’re the type who is taking mental notes on your coffee order, your laugh patterns, the way you furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought, stuff even you don’t know you do. But honesty love….. they’re into you from day one, but they plays it off like he’s unbothered. Classic King of Swords move. Strategic af. Theyre lowkey fighting himself. Like, internally they got this soft, romantic, borderline poetic thing brewing, he fantasizes about running into you by “accident,” planning the most aesthetic dates, imagining you in his hoodie😭but he’s actively repressing it. Because vulnerability? He’d rather eat glass, thanks. He doesn’t want to be obvious. He’s convinced if he lets on how deep he’s feeling this, he’ll lose the upper hand or get hurt. So what does he do instead? Weird passive-aggressive things. Acts uninterested one minute, then gives you eyes across the room like he’s trying to telepathically undress your soul the next. Sir. Pick a lane. He doesn’t chase, he builds. He slowly starts showing up for you in the most tangible, grounded ways. Need help with something? He’s already on it. Mentioned your favorite snack in passing? It just “randomly” appears next time. The way this man provides?? You’ll be SHOOK. He’s not flashy about it either. He’s like, “I got you” and means it. That’s when you start going: “Wait… are they… serious?” Because once this person is IN, he is IN. Like, no games, no pullbacks. Suddenly it’s "have you eaten?" and "text me when you get home" and "do you want me to fix that thing?." Husband mode activated. 

BUT THEN. Omg. THE TOWER. 😭 Baby this is where it goes OFF. Something will shift drastically. And honestly, You might be the one who triggers it, ofc we are talking about you here so. Like maybe you call him out for his hot-and-cold vibe, or you walk away ‘cause you’re done playing Guess Who: Feelings Edition™. Whatever it is, it SHATTERS his cool-boy facade. The Tower is giving “omg I fumbled” realness. He suddenly realizes how much he could lose and spirals. Might even go quiet for a second, lick his wounds, have a whole emotional breakdown. But then… boom. THE SUN. This is where the magic happens. The pursuit becomes warm, honest, and loud. He stops hiding. He owns it. Like, “Yeah, I like you. Actually, I love you. Actually, I wanna grow old with you and argue about what brand of detergent we’re using.” You’ll feel seen, adored, and finally safe in this connection. It’s that post-breakdown glow-up. He starts expressing himself clearly, no longer scared to let you in.

But now. Girl. YOU are gonna be the one hesitating now 😭. That Tower moment hits you, too. You start overthinking: “Can I trust this sudden 180? Was he always this into me and just hiding it? Do I want someone who couldn’t be vulnerable from the start?” Like, your brain starts weighing everythings. And that’s valid! It’s hard to unsee someone’s walls once you’ve bumped into them. So how do you perceive him throughout this journey? At first, cold and confusing af. Then… weirdly magnetic. Then dependable and lowkey daddy-coded. Then chaotic and heartbreak-y. Then sunshine and deeply, deeply sincere. You’ll feel like you’re watching him peel back layer after layer, and each one gets softer, realer, and more him.

His hints would be subtle but intentional. He remembers small things. He lingers a bit longer in conversations than necessary. He suddenly shows interest in the things you love, even if they weren’t his vibe before. He gives you those “you’re the only person in this room I care about” eyes. He’ll NEVER say it first… until he breaks. And when he does? You’re done. Stick a fork in you. Soul snatched. Game over.

I am seeing like he might dream about you before things really pop off. He might tell you later like ,“I had this weird dream we were married lol” and laugh it off, but internall,y he’s BLUSHINGGG because the dream felt real. Also… idk why I’m seeing like… rain or some stormy weather being important??? Maybe the Tower moment literally happens during a stormy day and you both cry under the rain like a movie scene? (i mean…..idc… if i am getting me personal main character moment. It’s all part of the process, i guess💁🏻‍♀️).

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE II

Cards Pulled: the tower, king of wands, 5 of pentacles, queen of cups, 8 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles

PILE 2, Okay but… why does this feel like a well written kdrama with 16 episodes??? I mean i could literally make a movie out of this pile 😭 my reaction to the cards were literally: oh, OH, ahh—, TF, Oh. My. GOD.😭 

The drama. The rawness. The "I didn’t see this coming, but now I literally can’t look away" energy is off the charts. And I’m already obsessed. So let’s talk about how this chaotic yet painfully magnetic future spouse of yours is about to come stomping into your world like they own the place, with all their trauma and broken broken parts and this weirdly hot charisma that shouldn’t be attractive but is. And somehow?? You fall for it. But like… respectfully 😭.

this person doesn’t approach you like your average person in love would do. No flowers and shy glances. Nope. It’s giving, "I just burnt my life down and now I’m rebuilding from scratch and oh look, you’re here too," vibes. Like you know when someone walks into a room and they don’t say much but their energy is SCREAMING "I’ve been through the trauma you couldn't even imagine"? That’s them. Tower card energy straight up. Something’s just collapsed in their life—could be a major breakup, a career flop, family drama, or literally an existential crisis. Honestly? Feels like all three, let’s not lie 💀. But instead of moping around, this person grabs that chaos and turns it into… ambition. Swagger. Power. This is someone who knows how to lead. They pursue you like they’re chasing their next purpose. With intention. With clarity. And this lowkey intimidating confidence that says “I know what I want, and it’s you.” But let’s not pretend it’s smooth sailing here. Bc 5 of Pentacles? Babe. This person has been abandoned, emotionally iced out, or felt major rejection in the past. Like it’s giving "I’ve loved and I’ve lost and now I trust NO ONE but my dog”. And because of that, Their way of pursuing you is… messy. Not in a manipulative way, but in that "I’m trying to be a lover while still patching up my own wounds" type of mess. So expect mixed signals. Hot and cold. Deep talks followed by withdrawal. And you’re gonna be like, “Sir?? Do you like me or do you need therapy??” honestly: it’s both 😭.

Queen of Cups as the next card is where things get interesting. You. Literally you. You're intuitive AF, emotionally intelligent, and probably catch onto their emotional damage in the first week and are like “Yup. You’re hurt. But I see the softie under all that wreckage.” And here's where it gets wild: they know you see it. That’s what makes them pursue harder. You’re the first person who doesn’t just want them for their outer confidence and King of Wands hotness, you want to know their soul. Their weird inner child. Their guilt. Their hidden sadness. And that?? That shakes them. In a good way. You start noticing little things. Like how they’ll work on themselves just to be better for you. They start showing up. Maybe it’s slow, but you’ll see them trying, healing their abandonment issues, learning to communicate, showing effort in tangible ways. Like planning little dates, asking how your day was (and ACTUALLY listening….woah rare, ngl), sharing parts of their past without you asking. They might even pick up new skills or hobbies because you like them. A little "if she likes books, I read books now" moment?? 😭😭 Despite how mature and scarred and big-boss they may appear, at their core, they’re a newbie when it comes to actual healthy love. Like yeah, they’ve loved before. But not YOU kind of love. Not “you see me even when I’m not performing” kind of love. And that humbles the hell out of them. They're awkward about it. Like, "I wanna give you the world but I also don’t know how to wrap a gift box correctly." 😭 It’s so endearing, you can’t help but melt. They pursue you like someone relearning love from scratch—and you become their soft place to land. They’ll stumble. They’ll overthink. But babe, they’ll try. And that’s what makes them fall harder. Because this ain’t about seduction. It’s about growth. They're not gonna outright confess their feels in the beginning. It’s gonna be hidden in acts of service. Like fixing your broken lamp. Or sending you a meme with a weird caption like, "reminds me of u" Or casually saying “I don’t talk to many people like I do with you,” and then acting like it wasn’t a full-on emotional proposal. Their love language is subtle till it’s not, okay?? But your intuitive self picks up on every damn sign, and you’ll know before they even open their mouth. That’s the connection here, psychic soulmate level. You’ll feel their love way before it’s said.

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE III

Cards Pulled: king of wands, 3 of cups, knight of swords reversed, the devil, 8 of cups, the star

OKAY, PILE 3 is here and… GIRL this pile has such strong, “Dark romance” vibes and also that “enemies to lovers but we’re obsessed with each other” trope energy like NO OTHER 😮‍💨🔥. Your future spouse? It’s that person who shows up outta nowhere and instantly throws your life into disarray because the connection is too much, too fast, too real. They pursue you like they’ve waited lifetimes to find you and now that you’re finally here, they’re not gonna risk losing you—even if it means accidentally traumatizing you with their intensity first 😭.

So let’s start with the vibe of this person, okay? Immediately I’m seeing someone who is dominant AF in presence, the type of person where the second they walk into a room, your attention shifts without your permission. But they’re not all flash and no depth, this person has that charismatic, “traumatized but make it aesthetic” confidence LOL. Think: the guy who’s lowkey too cool for everyone but gets soft for you 🫠. But it’s not just charm. It's calculated. They choose to pursue you. Like, they spotted you from across the damn soul contract timeline and were like, “Yep. That one. Mine.” LMAO.

Here’s where it gets juicy though, this person doesn’t make their pursuit clean or safe. We’ve got the Knight of Swords reversed mixed with The Devil and 3 of Cups… BABY. I’m not gonna lie, their approach is gonna have you shook. This isn't some slow-burn "lemme get to know you" type of chase. Nah, it’s giving intoxicated obsession. Like they’re coming at you way too fast, might say things they haven’t thought through (hello chaotic confessions??), maybe even making moves when you’re like “Wait… tf is happening?!” . And I SWEAR this person gives off the vibe of someone who might try to "just be friends" first… but they absolutely fail at it. Like... you’re not slick, sir. The way they look at you? Not very "friendly." More like "I wanna pin you to the wall in a meaningful way." 😭 it’s like you look into their eyes once aand you are going inot their crib TONIGHT. 

BUT. Their pursuit of you isn’t just lusty and impulsive, it’s coming from a place of deep yearning and soul ache. You’re literally the star they’ve been trying to find after walking away from a bunch of superficial crap. I’m getting that they’ve already been through a lot emotionally, they’ve had to let go of people, addictions (literal or emotional), maybe even success that wasn’t fulfilling. So while their approach is messy and extra (like “sir pls chill”), it’s coming from a place of craving real healing, real light, REAL connection. And guess what? That’s what you are to them. Their fkn North Star. And trust me, they don't even realize it at first, like they’re thinking they’re chasing a thrill, but gets, spiritual awakening outta nowhere. Bestie… you’re gonna think they’re too much. 😂 Straight up. You’ll be like “This person is hot, sure……but wtf is this energy??” It’ll feel like you’re constantly trying to decide between “should I kiss them or block them?” Energy chaotic AF. You’ll clock them trying to play it cool, but their eyes? Screaming "I'm feral for you." It’s also possible they’ll show up when you’re trying to move on from someone/something else, and you’ll be hesitant because you’re finally healing, vibing, living in peace, and here comes this walking temptation in human form, knocking on your aura like “hey 😏.” i mean really this emoji is the perfect example of how i am imagining this person.  There’s definitely a karmic undertone here, like you two have danced this dance before in past lives but it was let uncompleted. So now, they're NOT playing around. And the way The Star closes the reading? OOF. After all the chaos, the push/pull, the temptation, and messy little love games… they want peace with you. You are the peace. The wish. The endgame. But it’s not gonna come pretty.

Okay so their hints are not actually hints. They’ll accidentally drop the biggest signs , forgetting they’re supposed to pretend. They’ll joke about being obsessed with you? Deadass. They’ll mention you in every convo “by accident.” They might post quotes on their stories or make weird comments like “If I ever fall in love, it’ll be someone like you” 🙄, SIR. STOP. WE SEE YOU.  The 3 of Cups energy is also giving “I’ll use mutual friends to get close to you,” like casually showing up at a party where you just happen to be?? Please.And listen, not everything will be smooth sailing. That Devil energy is LOUD. There will be moments where you’ll wonder if you’re drawn to them because it’s fated… or because it’s toxic. But that’s part of the growth arc. They’re not here to ruin your life, they’re here to crack your heart open with messy hands. And once they realize that they can’t control you? That’s when the real magic starts. That’s when they fall so damn hard, they start building a whole new version of themselves just to be worthy of your light.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[buckadoodledoo]

can't stop thinking about roommates buck and eddie wanting this to last forever and ever and both feeling bad about this. eddie feels Bad because like, he keeps selfishly hoping and praying for things to be Wrong with the apartments buck is looking at. even though he knows buck deserves to have his own space and his own life and that's Fine it's just so fine. he can’t make him stay. but also he can’t stop trying to make buck stay. he's calling it our house and our bedroom and he plants a little herb garden because buck mentioned wanting one and he's asking buck if he thinks they should put up new shelves in the kitchen and get some cool glass jars for buck's baking ingedients and buck's got his own column on the weekly organiser and god what is he doing? and buck feels BAD because eddie's being so kind and patient and accommodating, but he deserves his space back, his house back. it was never really buck's. he was just supposed to hold onto it until eddie and chris came back. and they're back now. but also he just, can’t bring himself to keep looking for another place even though he knows he Should. he does at first. half-heartedly. but then he just stops. and he keeps not just letting eddie believe he's looking at places but like. lying about looking at places. he's literally making up apartments and then making up things that were wrong with them and he knows it's bad but he can’t Stop. and eddie's trying to react Normally and be supportive. like, man that sucks. don't worry, you'll find one! but really he's just like, so fucking relieved every single time. everytime buck mentions looking at a new place eddie's like, holding his breath. until buck rattles off a list of things that were wrong with it and he can finally breathe again.

and then one night, they're on the couch, watching tv, having a few beers. buck's just told him about another fake uninhabitable place. and it just slips out, quiet. "stay" eddie barely registers he's said it at first. but when he does, he says it again. like now that it's out there he can’t Stop. stay. buck, stay. and buck's like, what? and eddie sets his beer down and turns to buck like, stay. i want you to stay. i don't want you to find another place. i want you here. with me. with chris. where you belong. stay. and buck's breath shakes, fingers gripping his beer too tight, and he says, okay. and eddie's like, yeah? and buck's like, i— swallows. i haven't really been looking at places. i—meant to. but i couldn't, didn't want to. the thought of not—not being with you was... so i made them up. and eddie breathes out a laugh, surprised. says, you made them up. all of them? and buck ducks his head like, at least 90% of them. and eddie reaches out, tilts buck's face back up to look at him and says, i planted you a herb garden. and buck laughs, bright and loud. says, we're so stupid. and eddie laughs too, fond and relieved and just. in love. god, he's in love. and he just fucking says it, i love you. it slips out the same way stay did. and buck's laughter catches on an inhale. and he says, eddie. a little awed. a little desperate. and eddie thinks, this is it. no going back now. not that he wants to. this is it. this is his joy. and he takes the beer from buck's clasped hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles. sets it down next to his own. reaches back out, holds buck's face in his hands and kisses him. and buck makes a sound like a whimper and well, that's it. they're all over each other. hands everywhere, pressed together, moving together. and they can’t stop kissing. like they’re trying to climb inside of each other. can barely part long enough to shove down their pants. at some point one of their legs knocks the beer bottles over but they barely notice. at some point eddie manages to form a somewhat coherent thought long enough to get his hand around them both. at some point eddie says it again. stay. i love you. and buck realises that he didn't say it back—so he does now. breathes an i love you too into eddie’s mouth that slides into groan as he comes all over them both.

[secretl1fe0fm3]

29 PLEASE OMFG I NEED IT

tease - billie eilish x fem!reader

prompt #29: “its my thigh or nothing. i’m not lifting a finger to help you get off.”

warnings: smut, dom!billie, thigh riding, reader is a tease(twin fr), dirty talk, degradation, slight aftercare, lowkey mean!billie

an: im back with another prompt list request! i still have tons to do and i promise im getting to everyones!!! hope yall had a lovely monday! mwah!! enjoy<3

18+ minors dni!!!

The club lights still blur behind your eyes as Billie unlocks the door to her place, her jaw tight, her silence deafening. You’d been pushing her patience all night, pressing close when you didn’t need to, whispering filthy words in her ear, fingers brushing places that had no business being touched in public. She hadn’t said much, but the way her hand had gripped your waist and the clench of her jaw every time you smirked up at her, told you everything.

The door barely clicks shut before she’s turning on you.

“You think you’re cute, huh?” Her voice is low and rough. She walks towards you slowly and you take a step back instinctively, hitting the living room wall.

Billie closes the distance with one long stride, cornering you. She hasn’t even touched you yet, but you’re already holding your breath in anticipation. You swallow thickly.

“Spent all night teasing me,” she murmurs, her lips ghosting your ear, “acting like a brat. And now what? You want me to help you get off?”

You nod desperately, reaching out for her, wanting a kiss, but she doesn’t let up. She pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, narrowing hers as she looks you up and down, clicking her tongue.

“No,” she says, taunting you. “It’s my thigh or nothing. I’m not lifting a finger to help you get off.”

You blink at her, your breath catching in your throat. Your body screaming for more contact, more friction.

Billie walks across the room and drops down onto the couch, legs spread lazily, arms thrown along the backrest. She tilts her head, eyes dragging over you, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” she challenges. “You wanted to play. Show me how bad you need it. Don’t get shy now.”

The heat in your lower stomach flares, embarrassment and arousal mixing deep in your core. You swallow your pride and move toward her, climbing into her lap. Her hands remain behind her, no guiding touch, just watching and smirking.

You straddle her thigh, your skirt riding up, the only fabric between you being her jeans and your lace thong. You rock your hips experimentally, a jolt of pleasure running up your spine at the friction. Billie’s leg tenses, flexing, and your body jerks in response, a whine falling from your lips.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, low and smug, watching every movement with blown pupils. “That’s it. Make a mess on me, baby.”

You grind down harder, hands clutching at her shoulders for balance. The pressure is intoxicating, her jeans rough against your wet heat, each roll of your hips dragging against your clit just right. Your breath hitches as you pick up a rhythm, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open in a silent moan.

Billie’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and demanding.

“Look at me.”

You obey, opening your eyes to find hers fixed on you, unwavering. Her jaw is tight again, but her lips curl into something between cruel amusement and hunger.

“God, you’re desperate,” she says. “Look at you, grinding on my thigh like a bitch in heat. You don’t even care that I’m not touching you.”

You whimper, the humiliation sending another wave of arousal through you. You press down harder, chasing your impending orgasm, body trembling from the effort. Her thigh flexes again, and your moan catches in your throat.

She leans in, finally, her mouth just inches from yours, her breath warm, grazing your lips.

“You wanna come, don’t you?”

You nod, too far gone for words. She hums, pleased by your inability to form a proper sentence.

“Then be a good girl and come for me. Make a mess all over my jeans like the slut you are.”

You immediately obey, grinding frantically now, chasing your release. Your thighs tremble, your moans spilling freely. Without warning, your climax crashes over you, hard and hot, drawn out by the friction of her thigh flexing beneath you. You ride it out, whimpering into her shoulder, twitching, soaking through your panties and onto her jeans.

When your worn out body finally slumps against her, she shifts, just enough to hold you a little closer. Her hands move for the first time, her fingers lightly scratching your back as she pulls you against her chest.

“You’re such a mess,” she murmurs, her tone softer. Her lips pressing to your temple, lingering. “But you did so good for me.”

You nod absentmindedly, still panting and trembling in her lap. Billie slides her fingers up into your hair, cradling your head.

“Good girl,” she whispers, brushing her lips over your cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

prompt list

my masterlist

[colorisbyshe]

Can people please stop putting this piece of misinformation on this post. this is NOT TRUE!

THIS IS NOT TRUE!

Plan B is marked as SLIGHTLY LESS EFFECTIVE on people over a weight threshold and this might not even be true because IT HAS NOT BEEN ADEQUATELY TESTED! PLEASE STOP PUTTING THIS TYPE OF INFORMATION ON THIS POST AS IT DISCOURAGES PEOPLE FROM PURSUING THE REPRODUCTIVE HEALTHCARE THEY NEED.

STOP REGURGITATING SHIT YOU HAVE SEEN IN A TUMBLR POST, LOOK THINGS UP!

This is approaching "if you drink orange juice your meds won't work" level of misinformation.

DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN THE LISTED AMOUNT OF PLAN B IF YOU ARE FAT. PLEASE DO NOT GET INFORMATION ABOUT HEALTHCARE FROM RANDOM TUMBLR POSTS. PLEASE DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH.

You cannot advocate to fat people and then give them bad healthcare advice. Whining about "What can I do???" when the answer is "do basic research" is not helpful.

Also, if you are truly concerned about effectiveness over certain weights, an IUD (yes, as emergency contraceptive) is your best option. Don't trust me on this, LOOK IT UP.

Also separately, "visibly female-socialized person" is insane language. What the fuck. Saying this as a nonbinary woman... what the fuck are you talking about? You somehow found the worst possible (and transmisogynistic) way to make this conversation inclusive of trans men and anyone else who can get pregnant.

I really think it’s important to keep fat people in mind when talking about reproductive health care. So many birth control options are not as effective on fat people and none of these options are researched enough, either.

Fat people get worse health care in general and are taken less seriously and many surgeons refuse to work with fat people or offer suboptimal care, which puts them at risk when it comes to surgical abortion.

Not even getting into how being fat is tied to conditions that involve having irregular periods, which means noticing a pregnancy later and having reduced, more expensive options for abortion. Just to have less empathetic, less considerate health care workers waiting on the other side.

Fat people should not be left out of reproductive health care concerns. This isn’t even getting into how fat people are left out the flip side of reproductive care (ie getting help getting pregnant and being coached about fertility, being discouraged from getting pregnant at all or trying out options like IVF).

Especially when so much fatphobia is based in classism, ableism, and racism and plays into mortality rates. Like these are vital discussions to be had and they are all connected.

[lady-luckk]

kids are cute, let’s make one

# pairings: yandere sugar daddies x sugar baby reader

# synopsis: you’re eight sugar daddies are starting to want more from you. they’re envisioning a future with you. they want something that will chain you to them. what’s more perfect then a child.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, baby-trapping, and toxic behavior. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

# parts: part 1 𖤓 part 2

# tags: @hopingtoclearmedschool, @yawnzzx, @hasty-desert, @enchantingarcadecreation, @cannyyyyy, @lianobody

something was shifting.

you started to notice a new pattern in their obsession—one that’s more invasive, more intimate.

they’re all talking about children.

elijah brings it up casually over dinner. "you’d make such a good parent," he says, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "you ever think about settling down? having a little one running around? maybe… soon?" he grins, but there’s a look in his eyes that makes your stomach churn.

lucas leaves a baby magazine on your coffee table one day. you know you didn’t put it there. when you ask, he just shrugs. "just curious," he says. "wondered if you ever thought about a future. our future."

nathan jokes about it first. "imagine a little version of you running around. wouldn’t that be something?" but then he gets serious. "you’d look beautiful pregnant," he says. "really. you should think about it."

kai starts watching your cycle. you don’t know how he knows, but he always seems to know when you’re not feeling well. "we don’t have to use anything," he says one night. "i’d take care of you. both of you."

matthew starts buying vitamins. leaves them on your counter like it’s the most natural thing. "prenatal’s good for you even if you’re not pregnant," he says with a tight smile. "you never know."

leo gets quiet when you bring up birth control. "you don’t trust me?" he asks. the next time you’re together, the condom disappears. he just grins. "guess we’ll see what happens."

xavier's eyes never leave yours, a hint of something darker lurking behind his affection. "i’ve been thinking about our future," he says quietly, his hand resting lightly on your stomach. "a family... with you. we’ll make it perfect. just the way it’s meant to be."

damien doesn’t say anything at first. but he starts talking about names. baby names. casually, like it’s part of a normal conversation. you laugh it off until he hands you a list. "just in case," he says.

you feel trapped in silk—soft, golden lies that tighten every time you smile back.

but it doesn’t matter.

because they’re all dreaming of the same thing:

tying you to them. permanently.

soon, their suggestions turn to plans.

you catch elijah browsing baby clothes on his phone while you’re lying next to him. when you ask, he turns the screen away and says, "just looking." later, he offhandedly mentions how his apartment has a second bedroom. "could make a nice nursery."

lucas books a weekend getaway to a remote cabin and conveniently "forgets" to pack your pills. "you don’t need them all the time," he says. "you should trust me. we’d make a gorgeous kid."

nathan buys you a silk robe—one size up. when you laugh and ask if he thinks you're gaining weight, he just smiles. "you’ll grow into it."

kai starts talking about quitting your job. "you shouldn’t be stressed all the time," he says. "i’ll take care of everything. just focus on yourself. on… us."

matthew has taken to watching you sleep. one night, you wake up to find him staring at you from across the room. he’s holding a small, velvet box. inside isn’t a ring—it’s a positive pregnancy test. "just imagine it," he whispers.

leo starts leaving baby toys in your bag, your coat pocket, your purse. you find a rattle in your kitchen drawer. a bib in your laundry. all new. all tagged. all left without a word.

xavier starts talking to your stomach, even when you’re alone. "you’ll be a good mother," he says. "our child will be perfect. better than either of us."

damien starts recording you on his phone when you’re not looking. videos labeled with dates and times. you catch a glimpse of one named "first signs."

you’ve always felt like you were running the game. scripting the story.

but now, they’re writing their own chapters. and in every one, you’re a mother.

a possession.

a prize they plan to keep.

you don’t care about love. you don’t need it. you care about money. security. a life of indulgence. and as long as they’re giving you what you want—gifts, attention, wealth—you’ll keep playing the part. a baby? that’s not part of the plan. but the luxuries they promise? now, that’s something you can’t resist.

you knew they cared for you. at least, you thought you did. love, or at least the way they acted, was easy to ignore at first. fleeting glances, soft touches that felt almost like accidents. casual conversations. but lately? everything’s been different.

they’re not just affectionate—they’re obsessed. in ways you never expected.

elijah

you’re curled up on the couch with elijah, the room softly lit by the flicker of the tv. he’s close—too close—and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, but it’s not the comfort it used to be. there’s a shift in the air tonight, a subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. or maybe he’s just trying harder to convince himself of something.

"i was just thinking about something," he says, his voice unusually soft. his fingers idly trace the rim of his mug, but his eyes are glued to you, like he’s waiting for a reaction. "do you ever think about the past? i mean, really think about it? like, when everything felt right. simple."

you feign a thoughtful expression, though your mind’s already calculating how to play this. he’s nostalgic, searching for meaning, and you know exactly how to feed into it. you smile gently, nodding, your tone light but smooth as you reply, "yeah, i’ve thought about it. a lot of people wish they could go back to those simpler times."

his eyes brighten a little, encouraged by your response, and you can almost feel the trap snap shut. he’s already entranced by the fantasy, the idea of a perfect, easy life. you let him run with it.

"my grandmother’s house," he continues, drifting off into his memory. "it was always so warm, so... safe. i remember her kitchen, the smell of fresh cookies, and how she’d always hum little tunes when she baked. i used to sit on the counter, and she’d tell me stories about love, about how everything just... works out. back then, i thought maybe she was right. maybe things really do just fall into place."

you notice how his voice wavers, just a touch, and a small part of you feels a flicker of guilt. but the larger part knows this is your opening. you let him paint his picture, nodding with a gentle smile, your eyes softening just enough to keep him talking. you want him to keep going, to believe in this idea of a perfect future with you in it.

"i think that’s what i want," he says, his voice quieter now, almost intimate. "a life like that. the family, the love, the little moments. a house full of laughter, a kid running around. maybe it’s silly, but i picture you there. i picture us together, raising our little one in a place just like that."

you feel the weight of his words, heavy with his expectations. he’s already imagining you as a part of his dream, as the perfect mother in this idealized life. and you—well, you’re simply here for the luxury he promises, for the status, for everything he thinks you want. a baby, though? that’s not part of the plan.

you let your smile stretch just a little wider, a calculated mix of warmth and consideration. "let’s just enjoy our time together first," you say, your tone soothing and playful. "we’ve got all the time in the world to figure things out, right?"

but you can tell by the way his brow furrows, the way his gaze stays glued to you that he’s not hearing the subtle dismissal in your voice. elijah’s too wrapped up in his fantasy of a future with you—too blinded by the image of a picture-perfect life. his smile falters slightly, but only for a second.

"i know we do," he says, though there’s a small crack in his usual charm. "but i just… i keep thinking that we’re meant for something more, something bigger. you and me, building something real, something lasting."

you can feel the pull of his sincerity, and for a moment, you wonder how far you can lead him. how much you can take before he realizes you’re only here for the perks.

you lean closer, your hand brushing lightly against his, the perfect image of affection. "you’re right," you say, your voice low, almost teasing. "we’re meant to have it all."

and that’s exactly what you plan to get.

lucas

lucas stands at the edge of the room, watching you scroll through your phone with that lazy, practiced smile he’s grown used to. you don’t even need to look up to know his eyes are on you—he’s always watching. always assessing.

“you ever think about what comes next?” he asks softly, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance up, feigning curiosity. “next like… what?” you already know.

“a real life,” he says, moving closer, his hands tucked in his pockets. “something solid. a family.”

you tilt your head, studying him. you know what he wants—what he’s been hinting at for weeks. he’s too careful to say it outright, too controlled to beg for it. but it’s written in the way he starts keeping extra toothbrushes in the bathroom. the vitamins in the kitchen cabinet. the way he holds your waist like you might vanish.

“with me?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head in mock innocence.

he nods once, slow. “yeah. with you.”

a pause.

“i think you’d be good at it. being a parent. i see it.”

you smile, soft and distant, the kind that keeps him guessing. of course he wants a child. a future. something permanent to anchor you to him. but you? you just want the stability, the luxury, the money. you don’t care about late-night feedings or milestones. what you care about is the black card in your purse and the name on the lease.

“let’s take our time,” you say, your voice smooth and sweet like honey. “we’ve got everything we need right now, don’t we?”

lucas watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. but you can tell he’s clinging to hope. clinging to you.

“yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “we do.”

you lean forward, kiss his cheek like a reward. because that’s all this is—a game. and the deeper he falls, the more you win.

nathan

you find nathan in the kitchen, hunched over the stove with a recipe book cracked open beside him. the scent of something overly sweet lingers in the air—his attempt at baking again. it’s endearing, in a clumsy sort of way. he looks up when you walk in, startled like he always is, cheeks already flushed.

“hey,” he says, brushing flour off his hands. “i, uh… i made something. thought you might like it.”

you smile, amused by how nervous he gets just offering you dessert. “how thoughtful,” you say, stepping closer, letting your fingers trail along the counter like you own the place—which you practically do by now.

he watches your every move, eyes wide, anxious. “i was thinking, um… it’s kinda dumb, but…” he hesitates, then blurts, “do you ever think about kids? like, maybe someday?”

your smile doesn’t falter, but inside, you’re rolling your eyes. he’s been skirting around this topic for days now—staring too long when you walk past, buying things he thinks you might need “just in case.”

you lean against the counter, all soft glances and false affection. “you really think i’d be good at that?”

his face lights up like you handed him the sun. “yeah. yeah, i do. you’re already amazing. you’re everything i ever… i mean—” he stops himself, voice trailing into nothing.

you tilt your head, feigning interest. “maybe someday. just not right now.”

he nods quickly, eyes cast down. “of course. no pressure. i didn’t mean to rush anything. i just… i like thinking about it. about us.”

you reach out and touch his hand lightly, just enough to keep him hopeful. he melts under the contact, bashful and grateful, clinging to the fantasy he’s built around you.

you take a bite of the too-sweet dessert and smile. not because it’s good—but because it’s working. he’ll give you everything. and all you have to do is let him believe.

kai

you wake up to the sound of kai pacing the bedroom. the curtains are still drawn, the room bathed in that pale gray light that makes everything feel dreamlike. he’s muttering to himself, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned like he forgot how to finish getting dressed. when he sees you stir, he lights up like a fuse.

“you’re awake,” he says too fast, too excited. “i was thinking. we should just do it.”

you blink, still groggy. “do what?”

“get married,” he says, stepping toward the bed. “why are we waiting? we don’t need a big wedding. we could just go. right now. vegas. or a courthouse. something private. something just ours.”

you stare at him for a second, then sit up slowly, letting the sheet slip just enough to keep his attention. “kai, it’s six in the morning.”

he laughs, a shaky little sound. “i know. but i couldn’t sleep. i kept thinking about it. about you. about us. it’s not just about love anymore. it’s about making this real.”

you tilt your head, watching how his hands tremble slightly. he’s always running too hot—too much energy, too much emotion. and he dumps it all into you.

“i want a life with you,” he says, crouching next to the bed now, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “a family. a home. i wanna come home to you every day, and know it’s permanent. no doubts. no distance.”

you reach out and brush your fingers along his jaw, your expression soft and practiced. “that’s sweet, kai. but maybe we should talk about it when you’re not… so worked up.”

his face shifts—hurt flickering across it like a crack in glass. but he nods anyway. “yeah. okay. yeah.”

you already know he’ll bring it up again—probably tomorrow. he wants to trap you in love, in rings and contracts and babies. and you? you want the penthouse, the trips, the wild, obsessive devotion he throws at your feet like offerings.

“come back to bed,” you say sweetly, tugging him by the wrist. “we’ve got time to figure it all out.”

he lets you pull him close, curling around you like a storm ready to break.

and all you have to do is keep him just unsteady enough to never question a thing.

matthew

matthew’s already in the kitchen when you step inside, sleeves rolled, apron spotless, breakfast lined up like it belongs in a magazine. the scent of lemon and herbs is sharp in the air, too clean for this early.

he doesn’t greet you—just gives you a once-over with narrowed eyes and pulls a chair out. “you look pale,” he says. “have you been sleeping? i told you to take the vitamins. the ones in the glass jar, not the white bottle.”

you sigh dramatically, dragging your feet a little as you sit. “i took something,” you lie.

he frowns, already moving to pour you a glass of water. “not something. the right thing. consistency matters, especially now.”

he sets the water down with a quiet clink, then brushes a hand over your forehead like he’s checking for a fever. you don’t pull away. you’ve learned not to.

“you need to be careful,” he says. “i’ve been doing research. early nutrition, hormone balance, sleep cycles. i’ll start meal-prepping. no caffeine, no stress. we’ll take it day by day.”

you arch a brow. “we?”

his jaw tightens. “you’re not doing this alone. this isn’t just about you—it’s about us. about the baby.”

you blink, slow and calculated. “matthew,” you murmur, voice soft and lilting, “i’m not even—”

“yet,” he cuts in. “not yet. but it’s going to happen. i’ve already cleared out the guest room. i’ve got names written down. and i want you resting more. no more of those late nights with your friends. they’re a bad influence.”

you stifle a smile behind your glass. “you’re serious.”

he steps closer, brushing invisible lint from your shoulder, fixing your collar like you’re a doll on display. “i’m always serious. this matters. you matter. and our child will have everything. structure, calm, care. they won’t grow up in chaos.”

his fingers linger at your wrist, possessive without pressure.

“you don’t have to think,” he adds, almost gently. “just follow the routine. i’ll handle the rest. you’ll see—it’ll all fall into place.”

you meet his eyes, innocent and trusting, masking the truth beneath practiced sweetness. you don’t want the baby. never did. but he wants this so badly he’s practically trembling from the pressure of his own devotion.

so you nod, just enough to keep him content. let him dote and micromanage, let him spiral deeper into the fantasy. because as long as he thinks you’re on board, he’ll do anything for you. and you’re not about to give that up

leo

leo sits on the couch, his body slightly hunched, nervously fiddling with his phone. he’s been texting you for hours, sending small, pointless updates about his day. the moment you step inside, his whole face lights up, and his eyes immediately scan you up and down as if checking for anything wrong.

“hey, are you okay?” he asks, voice filled with concern that makes him seem like a lost puppy.

you shrug, brushing past him toward the kitchen. “just tired.”

“no, you don’t look tired. you look…” leo follows you, but stops at the doorway, his hands wringing in front of him. “you look… stressed. do you need to sit down? i can make you something. i know you like that chamomile tea. i remember.”

you roll your eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “leo, I’m fine.”

he’s quiet for a moment, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. it’s a soft, almost pleading look, like he’s waiting for you to need him in some way. the truth is, you know exactly how to manipulate him. you’ve been doing it for a while now. every word, every glance, feeds into the desperate need he has to take care of you.

he bites his lip, still standing in the doorway, his words slow, cautious. “you know… i was thinking about us today. about what comes next.” he steps closer, a nervous energy radiating off of him. “i want us to be… more, you know? i want us to be together forever. i know we can have something special. i… i want to build a life with you. a family, maybe. i know it’s a lot, but i’ll do whatever you need. we’ll have a nice place, a perfect home. you, me, and our future.”

he trails off, waiting for you to respond, but you can see the unease in his posture, like he’s afraid to push too hard.

you can almost feel the weight of his hopes pressing down on you, and yet, the more he talks, the more your mind drifts, calculating how to keep him hooked without giving up too much.

you glance over at him, your voice dripping with reassurance. “we’ve got plenty of time to think about that,” you say sweetly, taking a seat at the counter. “no need to rush into things.”

leo visibly relaxes, though his gaze stays on you like a hawk. “yeah, but… i just want to make sure you know how much i care. you’re everything to me. i’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy. i want to be the one who takes care of you. i can’t imagine my life without you.”

his words are almost desperate, and it’s clear he means them with every fiber of his being. leo’s never been good at holding back his feelings, but it makes him easy to manipulate—he’s so emotionally dependent on your approval that you don’t even have to try hard.

you let your eyes soften, making him feel like he’s won just a little bit. “i know, leo,” you say, your voice kind and warm. “but there’s no rush, okay? let’s just enjoy what we have now.”

he nods enthusiastically, almost too eagerly, as if your words were the reassurance he needed. his hands twitch at his sides, wanting to do something for you, to prove his love and devotion. but you know what he needs most is your constant attention, your affirmation, and you’ll give it to him as long as it keeps the luxuries rolling in.

he moves closer, gently brushing your hair from your face with a tenderness that’s almost suffocating. “whatever you need, i’m here. always.”

you smile, just enough to keep him believing that the fantasy he’s built in his head could actually come true. in reality, you don’t want the future he dreams of. but for now, his affections are just too easy to accept, too useful to ignore.

“thanks, leo,” you say, leaning into his touch. “you’re too sweet.”

he beams at your words, his face glowing with happiness, but you can see the cracks of insecurity hidden beneath the surface. he’s so ready to give you everything, but he still needs to hear you say it. you don’t say the words out loud, but the smile you flash is more than enough to keep him wrapped around your finger for now.

he steps back, still hovering in the doorway like he can’t quite pull himself away. “anything you want. just say the word,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet desperation.

and you know you’ll never have to say much. he’ll keep offering, keep giving, as long as you keep playing the part.

xavier

xavier leans back in his chair, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. he’s usually so confident, but tonight there’s something different in his eyes—something raw, almost vulnerable.

“i’ve been thinking about settling down,” he says, his voice lower than usual, almost thoughtful. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, waiting for a response. “i’ve got everything—money, power, success. but none of that matters without someone to share it with. someone who’s truly in this with me. someone i can count on.”

his hand rests on the arm of his chair, fingers drumming slowly as he watches you closely. "you know, i’m not getting any younger," he says, as though he's thinking out loud. "i’ve built everything i need. money, power, status… but it’s all meaningless without someone to share it with. someone who’s in it for the long haul. and that’s where you come in."

he pauses, his gaze softening as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “i’m done with the games. i want a life. i want a family. i want you. i want us to build something real. a future. a home. kids.” he looks at you with a seriousness that makes your pulse quicken. “i want to settle down, but only if you’re in it with me.”

you lean back, your fingers drumming on the edge of your glass, taking in his words. there's no hint of hesitation in his tone, no doubt in the way he speaks. everything he says sounds like it’s already planned, already decided.

“settling down? that’s not exactly what i had in mind,” you reply coolly, trying to keep your voice even. inside, though, you're calculating. the future he’s offering sounds tempting, but it comes with too much weight, too much commitment. it's not what you need right now.

xavier’s smile falters, just slightly, before he recovers. “but think about it,” he urges, his voice low and persistent. “we could have it all—kids, a future, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. i can give you that.”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it, but your mind is already elsewhere. a family? that would tie you down, take away your freedom, your ability to move freely in the world. the money, the luxury, the life you crave—that’s what you want. the rest is just a distraction.

“i don’t know if that’s really my thing,” you reply with a forced smile. “i like things the way they are now. no strings attached. freedom.” you shrug slightly. “you know, enjoying life. luxury. i’m not really ready to jump into something so… permanent.”

xavier’s smile drops, just a little, but he recovers quickly. there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he doesn’t push. instead, he leans back, crossing his arms and watching you, a calculating look now in place.

“i see,” he says slowly, his voice steady, though there's a hint of something else beneath it. “i guess we’ll just have to see where this goes, then.”

damien

damien looks at you with that soft, almost pensive gaze, as if he's carefully choosing his words, not wanting to overwhelm you. his presence is calming, but there's something undeniably serious in the way he speaks tonight.

"i’ve been thinking," he starts, his voice steady but filled with a quiet emotion. "about the future... about us, and how we could build a life together." his hand finds its way to yours, gently holding it as if grounding both of you in the moment. "i don’t just want a relationship with you. i want everything. a life. a family."

he leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "imagine it," he continues, the words slow, almost like he’s picturing it in his mind. "a home, just the two of us and our child. a place where we’re not just living—where we’re really building something, a legacy. i want to be there for you, always. i want to take care of you, provide for you and our child. i know i can make it happen. i can give you a future, a real one."

his hand tightens just slightly around yours, not possessively, but with a sincerity that catches you off guard. "i see us growing old together, you know?" he says, his voice soft but confident. "building our lives, raising a family. you and me, together in this life i know we could have. everything would fall into place."

he pauses, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for some sign that you see it too, that you can picture it as clearly as he does. "i know it’s a lot to ask," he admits, his tone slightly vulnerable. "but i believe in us. in what we could be. and if you’re willing, i want to share that with you."

there’s a weight to his words that feels different from the others. it’s not a plea or demand, but a quiet promise, a glimpse into the life he’s hoping to build with you. and as much as you try to push the idea aside, you can’t help but wonder—could this life he’s imagining be what you’re looking for, too?

but the truth is, it’s not the child he offers that catches your attention. it’s the luxury, the comfort of the future he’s offering you, that glimmers in your mind like a shiny, new prize. but you stay silent, hiding your true intentions, letting him believe you’re on the same page.

each one of them is so sure. so certain. their love, their desire to make you a part of their future, feels real, genuine. their words are sweet, full of promises, of things you’ve never allowed yourself to imagine. they see you as more than just a passing moment—they see you as the center of their world, as the one who will carry their legacy, their love, their future.

and yet, despite all their tenderness, all their devotion, a feeling creeps inside you—one that’s hard to shake. they love you, yes, but they love you in a way that isn’t quite healthy. it’s possessive. it’s consuming. and somewhere beneath the softness of their words, you can feel the pressure building. they’re not just asking for your love—they’re asking for everything.

they want to tie you to them, forever.

and with each passing day, it becomes harder to breathe

you woke up one morning to find your birth control missing. not just one pill—the whole pack. you check your nightstand, your bag, the bathroom drawer. it’s gone.

you’re careful with things like this. you have to be, with eight different men orbiting your life. there’s no room for error.

you try not to panic. maybe you moved it. maybe it slipped behind something. but the longer you search, the more certain you become. someone took it.

your mind flashes back to nights you wish you could rewind. moments where you weren’t as guarded. where one of them stayed over a little too long.

nathan, maybe. he insisted on staying. said he missed you. said he wanted to be close again.

he held you tighter than usual. kissed your stomach. whispered things you brushed off at the time.

"you’d look good round," he said, voice thick against your skin. "glowing. soft."

you’d laughed, unsure how to answer. now you wonder if you should’ve taken it more seriously.

later that week, leo asks if you’ve been feeling okay. his tone is too sweet, too knowing.

"you’ve been looking different lately," he says. "in a good way. like you’re changing."

you keep your face calm. smile like always.

"i just want you to be healthy," he adds. "you are taking care of yourself, right? eating enough? sleeping?"

you nod, but your stomach turns.

that night, you go to buy a new pack. the pharmacy clerk gives you a funny look, says, “didn’t you just buy these a few days ago?”

you didn’t.

someone did. someone pretending to be you.

your phone lights up again. it’s xavier this time.

have you been thinking about the future?

then kai: if something happened—something big—you’d tell me, right?

they don’t know about each other. they’re still in the dark, still convinced they’re the only one who matters.

but something’s shifted.

they’ve stopped talking like lovers. they’ve started sounding like planners.

you check your cabinets again and find a fresh box of prenatal vitamins, tucked behind your cereal.

you didn’t buy those.

you try to steady your breath.

they’re still oblivious to each other.

but not to you.

you’re the one thing they all want to keep. and they’re ready to make sure you never leave.

lately, they’ve been acting strange. clingier. needier. but it’s not just about where you go or who you’re with anymore.

it’s about what your body could give them.

their obsessions are mutating. no longer satisfied with your time, your attention, your presence—they want permanence. blood. legacy. a way to keep you tethered.

and they all have the same idea.

your phone buzzes, another string of messages lighting up the screen.

"you’re not answering. are you with someone else?"

"i had a dream you were carrying my child."

"come over. now."

they’re getting bolder. and richer.

luxury handbags, wired deposits, fine jewelry—all gifts, all apologies wrapped in money and obsession. you take them. you always have. you let them believe they can buy you, that their love is currency. but now the stakes have changed. they don’t just want to own your time. they want to own your body. your future.

when you step out of your building that afternoon, kai is already waiting at the curb, grinning like he belongs there. he opens the car door. "i found us a place. quiet. private. with room to grow."

that night, you catch elijah slipping something into your drink. he smiles when you confront him. "it’s just a supplement. good for fertility. you said you felt tired lately, remember?"

nathan leaves a black card on your vanity with a note: "for you and the baby. when you’re ready."

lucas starts asking questions about your family history. medical things. subtle at first, but then specific—like he’s researching.

matthew hands you a shopping bag with designer clothes for "future stages," as he puts it. "don’t worry about money. you’ll have everything you need. forever."

leo shows you a bank account he opened in your name. "for emergencies," he says. but there’s a clause at the bottom: joint parental use only.

xavier holds you longer after sex. "i’d give you the world," he murmurs. "you’d never want for anything again. just give me this."

damien starts sleeping over more often. always watching. always touching your stomach.

they don’t want you free. they want you claimed.

and you’re beginning to wonder if they’d rather trap you with comfort than fear.

money can be a cage, too.

a beautiful one. a quiet one.

and this time, it's holding a threat of diapers and diamonds.

there’s a knock at the door.

soft. then louder.

then a voice through the wood—low, familiar, insistent:

"open up, baby. we need to talk."

you freeze.

because it’s not one voice.

it’s two—one from the front door, one from the back entrance behind you.

and they both call you the same thing.

but neither knows the other is there.

[katsu28]

oooh kait i love the list!!

what about lando + 50. putting a hand over the other's mouth where lando is yapping abt smth?

got a little carried away with this but fuck it we ball

lando norris x sainz!reader, 1.7k. request something from here :)

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You glance up from your phone to see a grinning Lando leaned up against the wall next to you, and you raise an amused brow. “It’s my brother’s wedding.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was just—” 

“Why would I not be here?” 

“Jesus, I was just trying to be funny, you don't have to be mean about it,” He huffs, bumping his shoulder against yours with a roll of his eyes. 

“Sorry, Lan. You’re just too fun to mess with.” You tease, reaching out to pinch Lando’s cheek. 

He scowls, batting your hand away haphazardly. “Carlos said you were gonna be here early to help get everything settled.” 

“Aw, were you waiting for me?” 

“No, I wasn't.” You shoot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, maybe I was. I had to work with your great aunt, and lemme tell you, that woman is handsy.” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

“I know. All because you abandoned me.” 

“I had to help Rebecca with some last minute adjustments. And besides, It takes time to look this good, Norris,” You tut, gesturing towards yourself. The bridesmaid dresses Rebecca had picked out are absolutely gorgeous. Hopefully gorgeous enough to get you what you want. 

“You do look amazing,” Lando murmurs, eyes not-so-subtly raking up and down your body a little too long to be considered innocent. Mission accomplished. 

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself,” You reply, letting your gaze do the same. His tailored suit fits him wonderfully, and his hair is styled to perfection. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his curls and ruin it by pulling him close. 

Things between Lando and yourself are…complicated, to say the least. You were both young when you’d met, all the way back in 2019 when Carlos had done his time with McLaren. Since then, you’ve both grown up, kept in touch, and somewhere along the way, you’d come to a realization. 

You like Lando. A lot. And you think he might like you back, but neither of you have done anything about it. You flirt with each other like people who have feelings for each other and tease each other like friends, dancing around the elephant in the room whenever you’re in the same vicinity. 

It certainly doesn’t help that Lando is one of your brother’s best friends. He looks up to Carlos, respects him as a mentor, and wouldn’t dare make a move against his baby sister. But honestly, you wish he just would. This back and forth is starting to get a little old. 

Now is as good a time as any, with Carlos distracted on his big day. And what was that again people said about weddings being the perfect chance for blossoming romance? 

Someone with a headset and a clipboard comes up and whispers something in your ear, cutting your moment with Lando short. You stow away your phone in your purse, already prepared to follow them to attend to whatever needs doing. 

“Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Lan,” You say, straightening Lando’s tie with a sweet smile aimed at him. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Lando chuckles, looking equal parts fond and amused. “I’ll try my best.” 

The next time you see him is right before you're meant to walk down the aisle together. You take your mark right next to him, smoothing out your dress one last time before looping your arm through his. 

He leans towards you, lips almost brushing your ear with his whisper. “Missed you.” 

“Thought you said you’d try your best not to?” 

“Guess it wasn't good enough. Listen, can we talk later?” 

He sounds uncharacteristically serious, and it has you giving him a cautious sideways glance. “Of course,” You say. You nudge him gently with your elbow. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s good. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” 

“Well, now that you tell me not to worry, I think I might,” You reply, brows furrowing. 

“Then don’t.” 

“Seriously, Lando? You couldn't have waited until after the ceremony for this? I mean, honestly—” 

Suddenly his lips are on your cheek briefly, causing your outburst to die off mid sentence. You stiffen momentarily at the unexpected action. When you turn to gawk at him, he’s looking straight ahead, a satisfied little smile gracing his face. 

You don’t have time to process anything any further before you're being guided towards the beginning of the aisle. Straightening up, throwing your shoulders back, you tighten your fingers around your bouquet of flowers. 

Now isn’t the time. 

The ceremony goes swimmingly. There isn’t a dry eye in the place at seeing just how much Carlos and Rebecca love and cherish each other. Every so often, you’ll catch Lando’s eye across the aisle and he’ll wink back at you, settling your nerves at standing up there in front of everyone. 

You start to wonder what he wants to talk to you about. Your mind immediately goes to the worst possible thing, but surely it can’t be too bad. Right?

Lando doesn’t bring it up until well into the reception. He catches your eye from afar, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. Everyone is on the dance floor now, nobody would notice if you left. 

He slips out of the large hall silently and you follow a few seconds later, only startling a little bit when he grabs your hand and leads you further down the corridor until you can’t hear the lively music anymore. 

“What’s going on, Lando?”

He drops your hand in favor of starting to pace, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “I’m gonna be really honest with you right now. Probably brutally honest. And it might fuck things up, but I think I might explode if I keep it in any longer.” 

“Uh…okay. That sounds concerning,” You say hesitantly, shifting on your feet. 

“It is. I mean, no, it’s not, it’s nothing but, I just…” 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, because you look absolutely stunning,” He blurts. “But not just today. I wanna kiss you all the time, and I know—I know I probably shouldn’t because Carlos is one of my best mates and you’re his little sister and he’d likely kick my ass if he ever finds out, but I don’t care, I—” 

“Lando,” You interrupt, fighting to keep your voice level. Finally, finally, something is happening. 

He continues on as if he hadn’t heard you at all. “—can’t keep doing this…this whatever thing we’ve been doing. I really like you, and I need you to know that even if it ruins our friendship.” 

Normally you’d entertain his yapping tendencies, but you want to tell Lando you feel the same way and he just keeps on talking like he’s the only one in this conversation, so you’re left with no choice. 

You push him back against the wall behind him with one hand splayed across his chest, the other hand coming up to cover his mouth. Lando’s ranting dies off the moment your hand touches his face, like you’ve just found his off switch and powered him down. 

“Can you please just shut up for a second?” You say exasperatedly. He nods quickly, completely doe eyed under your palm. “You gonna let me talk now?” Another nod, this one a little slower. “Good. I like you too. Have for ages.” 

Lando’s fingers curl around your wrist, prying your hand away from his mouth with furrowed brows. “You—you do? Really? Why’ve you never said anything?”

“Why haven’t you?” You shoot back, cocking your head. 

“Because…because!” He says incredulously, wrinkling his nose. “You’re Carlos’s little sister, I—he’d have my head.” 

You scoff. “Carlos isn’t my keeper, Lando. I’m an adult, I can make my own choices without having to consult my brother. If I want to date you, I can!” 

Lando’s gaze sharpens, the edges of his mouth curving into a smug little smile, and you know you’re in for it now. 

“Then let me take you out. On a proper date,” He proposes. It’s a bold move, considering you’ve still got him pinned against the wall with one hand, but his bluntness makes your focus flicker. 

Lando takes the opening and makes his move, now suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall and he’s pushed himself closer than you’ve ever been before. For someone who was just worried about Carlos finding out mere seconds ago, he seems quite confident. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” You ask softly, searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. What you’ve wanted for a long time is finally happening, but that doesn’t make you any less wary. If anything, it feels even more daunting. 

Slowly, Lando’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek almost delicately, like he’s afraid you might disappear into thin air if he moves too fast. His tongue darts out to wet his lips just before he leans in, deft fingers shifting from your cheek down under your chin, tilting your head up just enough to meet him in a gentle kiss. 

His lips are softer than you expect, tasting a little like the rum and cokes he’s been nursing all night mixed with something else sweet, and definitely living up to every dream you’ve ever had about this very moment. 

Lando’s thumb rubs along your cheek, a soft smile playing across his face when you break apart. “Believe me, I’m more sure about you than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” 

You smooth out the lapels of his suit jacket from where your fingers had bunched into the material, beaming at him happily. “Always such a sweet talker, you.”

“Worked on you, didn’t it? I mean, it took years, but I’ve got you now, don’t I?” 

“Depends on where you take me on our date,” You joke. 

“Oh, I’ll take you anywhere you want, baby. Name it and it’s done.” 

“A sweet talker and a smooth talker. That could come in handy for when Carlos finds out.”

“No, it—why?” His voice squeaks on the last word, eyes widening almost comically.

You give his chest a firm pat, ducking out from under his arm to return to the reception. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, hm?”

“Sweetheart, c’mon! He won’t try to fight me, right? Right?” 

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[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗠𝗘 lando norris x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . Lando usually pays for food, take out or groceries. today you decide to pay yourself since it was easier and Lando did not like that (486 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

You were curled into Lando’s side like you belonged there, limbs tangled, the TV playing some show neither of you were really watching. It was all warmth and lazy affection—his fingers drawing patterns on your arm, your cheek pressed to his chest, his heart beating slow and steady beneath your ear.

"I'm gonna change the order," you murmured, scrolling through the food app.

"Again?" he chuckled, head tilting to peek over your phone. “Didn’t you already pick, like, five different things?”

“I had a vision,” you said dramatically, tapping at the screen like it held secrets only you could decode. “I want dumplings instead of sushi. It’s a craving emergency.”

Lando grinned, nudging his nose into your hair. “Whatever you want, love.”

A few minutes passed, the air syrupy with comfort, until you hit place order and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Alright,” he said, untangling himself from your hold. “Let me grab my wallet—”

“No need.” You were already settling back into his side. “It’s done. It’ll be here in twenty.”

Lando blinked. “Wait—what?”

You turned your face up toward him, blinking back just as innocently. “It’s already on its way. I used my card.”

“…Excuse me?”

He looked personally offended, hand still frozen mid-reach. The drama in his expression was Oscar-worthy.

“I had Apple Pay ready, and it was faster,” you explained with a little shrug.

He stared at you, betrayal written in every line of his face. “You paid?”

“I did.”

“With your money?”

“…That’s how paying works, yeah.”

Lando gasped, flopping back onto the couch like you'd broken his heart. “Why would you do that? I always pay for food.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic,” you laughed, shifting to face him fully. His bottom lip was sticking out, puppy-like and tragic.

“I always pay,” he repeated, grabbing his phone. “I’ll transfer it right now.”

“Lando,” you scolded, stealing his phone from his hand and dropping it onto the coffee table.

“I’m paying you back.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I can’t let you spend your money on me!”

“Too late,” you Hhum, pressing a kiss to the corner of his pouty mouth. “I did.”

He tried not to smile, tried to hold onto the sadness like a martyr. “You’re evil.”

You kissed him again. “You love it.”

“I do,” he mumbled, kissing you this time, once, then again, softer. “But I’m still gonna feel bad about it.”

“Guess I’ll have to kiss the guilt away.”

“Might take a lot of kisses,” he said, nuzzling into you like a big sulky bear.

“Then lucky for you, I’m rich in affection.”

“You’re rich because I’m not letting you pay again.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re too good to me.”

You just kissed him again, warm and giggly as he tried to snatch back his phone like a man on a mission. But even with all the fuss, he never pulled away from you. Not even a little.

[violet-silverblood]

No one in my family had ever thought about just how many things contain gluten or wheat by products until one specific thing happened. Our cat was diagnosed with gluten related IBS. We started looking for gluten free cat food so she could eat something and get back up to a healthy weight.

Want to guess what most pet food compaies use as binder in the food they make for an Obligate Carnivore? Wheat. Almost all of the brands available to us use wheat as a filler in CAT FOOD.

We had to get the vet to perscribe specialty dry food just so she had something to eat while we scrambled to find a wet food that wouldn't make her puke her little guts up. It took a month until we found a brand that she could digest and we bought it almost by the box in case the stores ran out (this was during covid so a very real worry).

But that's not the end of it. She also loves cheese and all things dairy (this does not upset her delicate little tummy, which we all find mildly amusing and the vets just shrug about) and will try to steal from and lick plates if we're eating a 'cheese meal'. So to prevent her from accidentially ingesting any gluten from our plates we give her a princess plate of whatever it is she wants from ours, we are taking steps to prevent her from playing cross contamination roulette at the dinner table.

So what does my rant about cat food have to do with the 'there's too many gluten free stickers in the grocery store' argument?

My point is this;

If it took a literal month to find cat food (fucking cat food!) that didn't contain any wheat, how many things have wheat or wheat by products that you don't notice? How many people have ingested something they thought was safe and then gotten violently sick becuase they didn't know it contained an allergen? How many people have wanted to cry happy tears because now they can navigate grocery stores without as much fear of missing something in the mile long, 5 pt font ingredient list?

The safety railings aren't for you, stop bitching that someone put them up.

it is weird that celiac stuff has become part of the 'culture war'. because it's literally just a medical thing.... I get super anemic unless I cut a certain protein out of my diet, because it bulldozes the villi in my intestines. but if I post about it, right-wingers send me gore images. I guess you can't expect shitty people to be logical, but I've even heard lefty people make fun of gluten stuff, and it's like why are you mad about this??? why are you pissed off that I'm eating bread that doesn't taste as good so that I can have blood in my body? it's so morally neutral.

[cheftsunoda]

beauty and brains

(part four)

smau + real life

warning : very very wordy

“lando takes a trip to visit jules while she is in the midst of a 24 hour shift and the twins celebrate a birthday..with a few surprises."

(I received several requests on a few little plot lines to add so I tried my best to incorporate all)

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader x Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part two here:)

part three here:)

 tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me, @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson, @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish, @just-tingz-virgo, @majapapaya4, @lina505

—

dr_jules_leclerc added to her story!

{caption 1 : only 12 hours into this 24 and im already falling asleep - SEND HELP} {caption 2 : help has arrived—thank you lando}

seen by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 & 4,368,468 others.

charles_leclerc : I thought you said no visitors allowed at work…

charles_leclerc : arthur is upset

dr_jules_leclerc : oh I wasn’t specific- im allowed visitors I just put you both on a no visitation list

charles_leclerc : that is so rude - what did we ever do?

dr_jules_leclerc : where the both of you are- chaos ensues + I do not need distractions

charles_leclerc : ignoring that first part- but is lando not a distraction?

dr_jules_leclerc : he is a permitted distraction because he brought gifts

charles_leclerc : if I buy you that birkin you were talking about - will you take me off the list?

dr_jules_leclerc : ….yes…bubblegum pink with palladium hardware..thank you charlie

charles_leclerc : perfect😁 anything for you, princesse.

oscarpiastri : lily and I will take some of the credit for the flowers- we helped him pick them out.

dr_jules_leclerc : you know me so well, loves. thank uuuu

arthur_leclerc : sooooo since charles is off the ban list does that mean i am too?

dr_jules_leclerc : no because you will be here every day and I will never get any work done.

arthur_leclerc : sorry for loving my sister jeez 🙄

arthur_leclerc : …what if I bring lunch everytime?

dr_jules_leclerc : …okay..fine

—

lando added a post to his story!

{caption : found this really pretty lady at the hospital and now she is showing me really cool things - BEST DAY EVER}

seen by charles_leclerc, ciscanorris, flonorris1 & 2,368,354 others.

charles_leclerc : she is the best

lando : she really is, i love watching her do something she is so passionate about.

ciscanorris : I am glad you are finally learning something because I know you didn’t pay any attention in school. Tell my daughter I said hello and love her bunches!

lando : will do- no love for me? 🤨

ciscanorris : Don’t be dramatic, Lando. I birthed you- you automatically have all my love instilled into you.

flonorris1 : never thought you’d end up with anyone as cool as her

lando : me neither

—

I was on hour eighteen— out of 24.

My scrubs were wrinkled, my hair had been up and redone twice already, and my eyes burned from staring at the same three charts for too long. I had barely eaten, my feet ached, and there was a little knot forming at the base of my neck from the stress of balancing five pediatric oncology cases—each one heavy, each one pulling at a different part of my heart.

I was halfway through a progress note when someone knocked softly on the doorframe of my office.I looked up from my computer screen and froze.

Lando.

He was wearing a hoodie, joggers, and sneakers that were entirely too clean for hospital floors. He had what looked like 3 bouquets and some balloons, and a familiar little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The one he always saved just for me.

“Hi, doctor,” he said quietly.

My whole body exhaled.

“Lan—what are you doing here?”

He held up the flowers like they explained everything. “Bringing you something to brighten up your day. I can’t imagine a 24 hour shift with several different cases is very fun for you, love.”

I blinked, then set the paperwork down and stood, crossing the room in just a few steps before wrapping my arms around his waist. He hugged me back instantly—tight, warm, steady. I let yourself melt into it, just for a second.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I murmured against his chest.

“I wanted to,” he said. “You take care of everyone else. I just wanted to take care of you for five minutes.”

He pulled back gently and handed me a small bag. Inside was my favorite wrap, a bottle of coconut water, and a pack of chocolate-covered almonds I always kept in my locker but had run out of days ago.

“Eat up, Doc. I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

My chest squeezed.

“You remembered all of this?”

“I pay attention,” he said with a soft shrug. “Especially to you.”

I sat with him in the office for ten stolen minutes, half-laughing through my exhaustion as he made dramatic faces while trying to sip from the tiny espresso cups meant for the staff.

At one point, my head dropped onto his shoulder and he just let it stay there, fingers tracing light circles on my back.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes. “Some days I don’t either.”

“But you still do.”

He looked at me then—really looked. No makeup, hair undone, emotionally and physically worn down to my edges—and he thought I had never looked more beautiful.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

I huffed a tired smile. “Tell me that again after I’ve slept.”

“I’ll tell you every day if you let me.”

I turned to him, and for a second, the hospital faded. There was just Lando. Kind, thoughtful, mine.

And in that moment, you didn’t need the flowers or a grand speech. You just needed this-

Someone who showed up when it mattered.

Someone who saw the hard parts and still stayed.

Someone who brought food to a hospital at 9 p.m. because he loved me.

A light knock on the door interrupted our moment of peace. I nodded towards my assistant who opened the door gently.

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Leclerc - both of your brothers are downstairs and are requesting to come up and see you.” She said and I smirked to myself with a small sigh.

“Let them up- why not?” I said with a small chuckle and set my head back on Lando’s shoulder.

Within minutes, there was a knock on my office door and Arthur and Charles came barreling in. A giant orange bag in Charles’ hand that read ‘Hermes’. Charles held it out with a big smile on his face.

“For you, princesse.” He said eyeing lando and taking a seat across the desk from me.

“Charles- it is 9 at night how the fuck did you even get this?” I said with a huge smile on my face as I unboxed the purse.

“I have my ways and my connections and as I said- anything for you.” He said, watching me open the box with joy.

“You just had to show up my gift, huh?” Lando said with a smirk.

“What can I say?” Charles shrugged.

“No, this is only here because it is the only way Jules would take Charles and I off the ban list.” Arthur said and I chucked to myself.

“Either way- it is much appreciated, my loves. You have made this shift considerably less miserable for me. I love it, thank you.” I said and stood pulling Arthur into a hug- he left a kiss on my cheek. I then pulled Charles in and his head rested on top of mine for a small moment.

“You are our superhero, Jules. All of ours.” Arthur said and charles and lando both nodded.

“I love you all, so much.”

—

Finally- hour 24 of 24 had ended.

The fluorescent lights still buzzed. My sneakers still squeaked faintly against the tile. But the chaos had dulled into that familiar post-shift stillness—an exhaustion so deep it lived in my bones.

I stepped out of the elevator, rubbing my temples, and there he was.

Lando. Sitting in the waiting area, hoodie hood up, legs stretched out, phone forgotten in his lap. Asleep, but barely. The second my steps slowed near him, his eyes opened like he knew.

“You stayed,” I whispered, throat tight.

He blinked once, then smiled, soft and sleepy. “Of course I did.”

I stared at him for a second—this boy with messy curls and too much heart, who waited hours in a hospital chair just to take me home. Something cracked a little in my chest.

“I told you to go,” I said, not unkindly—just overwhelmed.

“And you never listen to me when I tell you to rest,” he said, standing slowly. “So I figured we’re even.”

That made me laugh, tired and watery.

Without a word, he reached for my bag, threw it over his shoulder, then carefully tugged my hand into his. His thumb brushed gently across my knuckles as he led me outside, into the cool night air.

I was silent until I reached the car, the kind of silence that buzzed with everything I couldn’t say yet.

But when I sat down—door shut, the outside world finally muffled—I turned to him. And the words just came.

“You know how many people see this version of me?” I asked softly.

He glanced over. “This version?”

“The tired one. The one who’s had to deliver shit news and hold her emotions together in front of a ten-year-old who’s too brave for her own good. The one who didn’t get to cry during the bad scan. The one who forgot to eat and barely held it together when a patient’s parents broke down in the hallway.” I exhaled. “This version.”

Lando didn’t rush to respond. He just looked at me, eyes soft, voice even softer.

“I want to see every version.”

My throat caught.

“Not just the one in the hoodie I love. Not just the one who dances in the kitchen or teases me about being dramatic on race weekends. I want all of them. Even the hard ones. Especially those.”

I blinked fast, swallowing the knot rising in my throat.

“Tonight was hard,”I said, voice cracking.

“I know,” he whispered, already reaching across the console, thumb brushing under my eye where a tear slipped out. “But you’re not alone anymore, okay?”

I nodded once. Then again.

He leaned over, kissed my forehead, and whispered into my skin: “Let me be your soft place to land.”

And I knew—he already was.

—

time skip - 8 months - leclerc twins birthday

—

dr_jules_leclerc made a post!

liked by leclerc_pascale, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 4,368,243 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : Happy birthday to my twin—my first friend, my forever teammate, and the one who just gets me without even saying a word. From day one, we’ve shared everything—our childhood, our dreams, our weird inside jokes, and all the highs and lows in between. There’s something so rare and special about growing up with someone who’s been right there beside you every step of the way. I’m so proud of the person you are and so lucky to go through life with you as my other half. Here’s to more adventures, more laughs, and more memories we’ll never forget. Love you always and endlessly.

—

charles_leclerc : mon chèri —you already made me cry this morning on the phone and then you post this. i am so proud of you and the amazing person you have become. you continue to make me so proud every single day. you are a superhero to me and to so many others. i am so blessed to have you. love you forever

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alexandrasaintmleux : my two favorite humans on the planet—happy birthday. i love you both so so much and I cannot wait to celebrate you both. 🤍

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charles_leclerc : Merci mon ange. Je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et retour.

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my alex—i love you forever and ever. thank you for being the sister i never knew i needed 🤍

arthur_leclerc : I’d be so lost without you guys. I look up to you both and you have been the biggest inspiration to me. I love you both. Happy Birthday!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : love you Thur— thank you for the flowers this morning 🥹

leclerc_pascale : 💋❤️

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carlossainz55 : Happiest of Birthdays to my favorite twins!

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dr_jules_leclerc : aren’t we like the only twins you know?

carlossainz55 : well technically yes but I could meet quadruplets and you guys would still be the favorite

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dr_jules_leclerc : thank you chili ❤️

oscarpiastri : Happy birthday to my father and my aunt! Love you guys!

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—

charles_leclerc made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 3,265,368 others.

charles_leclerc : Happy birthday to the one who’s been with me since the very beginning—my twin, my lifelong partner in crime, my heart in another body. There’s no bond like ours, and no one I could ever be more grateful for. You’ve been my biggest cheerleader, my secret-keeper, my therapist, and my favorite person to just sit in silence with. We’ve seen each other through every version of ourselves—messy, growing, healing, thriving—and we’ve never let go. I honestly don’t know who I’d be without you, and I don’t ever want to find out. You make life fuller, funnier, and so much more meaningful. Here’s to everything we’ve been through and everything that’s still ahead. I love you more than words can really say.

—

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my charlie— thank you for always supporting me and keeping me strong throughout this life. you are one of the best things god has given me in this life and i wouldn’t trade you for anything. thank you for all those nights where you’d stay up for endless hours helping me study. thank you for pushing me and always believing in me. thank you for being you. love you forever

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arthur_leclerc : can you guys stop making me cry?

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maxverstappen1 : Happy Birthday Leclerc’s!

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alexandrasaintmleux : my angels

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leclerc_pascale : mes bèbès❤️

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lewishamilton : Happy Birthday to one of my best friends and to my teammate! ❤️

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pierregasly : happy birthday to you both! cant wait to celebrate 🥂

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—

lando just made a post!

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lando : Happy birthday to the love of my life, my safe place, my soulmate. Every day with you feels like a blessing, but today I get to celebrate you—your heart, your strength, your laughter, and everything that makes you so incredibly special. You’ve shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, and being yours feels like coming home. Thank you for being my partner in this wild, beautiful life. I’m so proud of who you are and so lucky to love you. Here’s to all the memories we’ve made and all the magic still to come. I love you, always. 🧡

(Happy Birthday to Charles as well- thank you for trusting me with your beautiful sister.)

—

dr_jules_leclerc : currently in tears— lan, i love you so much. you have forever changed my perception of love. you have showed me what true love is like and i will always remember you for that. you truly are the love of my life - thank you.

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maxfewtrell: Happy Birthday Jules and Charles! Hope it’s a good one.

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charles_leclerc : Thank you, Lando. It took a lot for you to earn my trust but you did and that shows a lot. Take care of her, please.

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flonorris1 : Happy Birthday Jules! We miss you!!

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ciscanorris : Happy Birthday beautiful girl! Thank you for always being so good to my son and my family.

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pietra.pilao : Happy happy birthday beautiful lady!

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danielricciardo : aw how cute - my lando is so in love. happy birthday Jules and Charles!

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arthur_leclerc added posts to his story.

{caption 1 : happiest of birthdays to the best sister i could have ever been given- you inspire me everyday. love you sm} {caption 2 : happy birthday cha- thank you for everything. you have done so much for me and have always been there to help me. love you}

seen by olliebearman, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 337,378 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : artttt- im crying. you are the best baby brother i could have ever asked for. love you forever

message liked by arthur_leclerc

charles_leclerc : thank you Thur— love you:)

message liked by arthur_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : this is so cute oml

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olliebearman : tell them i said happy birthday!

arthur_leclerc : Ollie- man- you’re invited to their party tonight.

olliebearman : wait really??

arthur_leclerc : yes, Jules asked me if you’d come.

olliebearman : omg I’ll be there

message liked by arthur_leclerc

—

flashback moment between charles and jules

Age six.

Well—six and a half, as I proudly told anyone who asked. Charles would chime in with a matching “six and a half” in perfect unison, as if the two of us had rehearsed it.

We were always like that—mirrored pieces of the same wild, sunlit childhood. We shared everything: toys, birthdays, scraped knees, the top bunk, and Mamans laugh when we ran barefoot through the apartment, leaving chalk footprints behind.

It was a Saturday in Monaco. The kind of summer day where the air shimmered and the streets smelled like sea breeze and jasmine. The kind of day where the grownups left their windows open and the children left their shoes behind.

Charles and I were outside in the courtyard with a box of sidewalk chalk and no real plan—just endless space and imagination that didn’t need to make sense.

He was drawing something he insisted was a Formula 1 car.

“It’s got wings,” he explained, adding two lopsided triangles to the side. “So it’s faster.”

“It looks like a turtle,” I said, squinting.

Charles stuck his tongue out at me. “You don’t get it.”

I ignored him and moved on to the edge of the driveway, where I crouched and began writing my name, pressing the chalk down so hard it cracked in my hand.

J-U-L-E-Z. Big and uneven. In green and pink and a little streak of orange.

He looked over and tilted his head. “That’s not how you spell it.”

I turned my head sharply. “Yes it is.”

“Maman spells it with an ‘S.’”

I glared at him. “I like it with a ‘Z.’”

Charles raised his eyebrows in mock shock, then grabbed a piece of purple chalk and dramatically drew a huge, crooked heart around the name. “Fine. ‘Z’ it is.”

I didn’t say anything. Just grinned.

That afternoon turned golden, the way all the best ones did. We both chased each other through sprinklers, made a “soup” out of dandelions and tap water in mamans flower pots, and ended up collapsed on the front step, legs muddy, knees bruised, giggling breathlessly.

Someone handed us popsicles—our old neighbor, probably. Orange for both of us. It stained our fingers and dripped down our wrists as I swung my legs and leaned my shoulder into his without realizing it.

“Maman says you’re gonna be a doctor,” Charles said suddenly, eyes forward, voice calm.

I didn’t answer right away.

“She says you already know how to take care of people. That you ask questions like one.”

I looked at him, blinking. “She says you’re going to crash a car.”

Charles choked on his popsicle.

“I am not! I’m gonna drive one.”

“Yeah, into a wall,” i teased.

He elbowed me gently. “No walls. Just first place.”

We both sat quiet for a moment, chewing on the end of our popsicles, watching the sun sink behind the apartments.

Then I spoke.

“If you crash, I’m not fixing you.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

I nudged him. “You’re the liar.”

But even then—even at six—I knew I would fix him if he ever needed it. Because that’s what I did. And because he was mine, just like I was his.

And long after the chalk washed away and the popsicles melted and time turned everything else into something new—

That part stayed.

—

present day

I giggled to myself and sent charles a voice memo reliving that memory. He really was my other half and always would be. I was at his first race, I’ll be at his last. He has been there for me every step in my career. I’d always fix him if he ever needed it. It absolutely warmed my heart that him and Lando have finally started bonding—Charles still remaining protective as always but has let up on Lando. Time to get ready to Celebrate us.

—

The party was exactly what it should’ve been—equal parts elegant and chaotic.

Somehow, between back-to-back races and media days, We had managed to squeeze in one night. Just one night to celebrate another year around the sun, together. It had started as a quiet dinner idea, but leave it to the F1 grid to turn anything into an event.

The rooftop venue in Monaco overlooked the sea, bathed in gold from the setting sun. Fairy lights strung across low beams, music pulsing just enough to set the tone but not drown out the sound of laughter—so much laughter.

“Thirty minutes in and Russell already spilled red wine on the seating chart,” I whispered to Lando, who stood beside me with a hand resting comfortably at the small of my back.

“I think he did it on purpose,” Lando replied, lips twitching into a grin. “He’s avoiding being seated next to Max.”

I laughed, shaking my head—and that’s when I spotted him. Charles, across the patio, in conversation with Pierre and Esteban, trying to look serious while holding a cupcake in each hand.

“Classic Charles.” I murmured to myself.

Lando leaned in, dropping his voice. “Happy birthday, Doctor Leclerc.”

Before i could reply, someone called out: “Birthday toast!”

The group gathered slowly, everyone herding toward the long table that had somehow become littered with champagne corks, and a pair of sunglasses no one claimed. Charles tapped a glass with a fork, looking far too proud of himself.

“Okay,” he started, “as the older twin—”

“You’re older by four minutes,” I cut in.

“—wiser twin,” he amended with a smirk, “I’d like to say thank you all for being here. Some of you flew in on a rest day, which means a lot. Especially considering there is no actual prize for tolerating two Leclercs at once.”

Groans. Laughter. Someone (probably George) shouted, “We deserve medals!”

“But seriously,” Charles said, tone softening as he glanced at me. “We’ve shared every birthday together. Some loud. Some quiet. But this one feels different.”

I raised a brow. “How so?”

“Because you brought your half of the grid,” he teased, gesturing toward Lando, who grinned and mock-bowed. “And somehow, even with all the helmets and rivalry… tonight just feels like family.”

The silence that followed was warm. Full.

And then, just like that, Max lifted his glass. “To Jules and Charles. May their sibling battles always stay off track.”

“And may Lando survive dating a Leclerc!” someone (definitely Alex) added.

The toast ended in cheers, clinks, and one overly enthusiastic pop of champagne that nearly hit Oscar in the face.

Later, after cake (two, of course—because they still couldn’t agree on flavor) and dancing, I found myself standing alone by the railing, watching the moonlight ripple over the water.

Lando appeared quietly beside me, slipping his hand into mine.

“You good?” he asked, eyes on me, not the view.

I looked at him, heart a little full, cheeks still warm from laughing. “Yeah,” i said softly. “I’m really good.”

Because here she was—celebrating another trip around the sun with the person who knew her best, and the person who loved her deepest. Surrounded by people who’d crash helmets for her in one second and pull her into group hugs the next.

—

Charles and I sat on the balcony in silence - just enjoying the view and each other’s presence.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

We both just sipped, staring out at the glint of the sea under moonlight, the air quiet enough to hear the city hum.

Then Charles said, barely above a whisper, “Do you ever miss it? Being just us?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because I knew what he meant. Not out of jealousy, not from lack of love—but from the ache of growing up. Of your worlds expanding in opposite directions.

Sometimes it was just easier when it was the two of us, sharing bunk beds and stolen cookies, futures still unwritten and intertwined.

I leaned your shoulder into his, like I had a thousand times before.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I miss it. But I wouldn’t trade this version either.”

He glanced over. “Even with Lando?”

I gave him a look. “Especially with Lando.”

Charles sighed dramatically, resting his head back. “Still weird.”

“You’re going to be weird about it forever, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Then, after a pause, more serious: “But he makes you better. You smile more when he’s around.”

I blinked, taken off guard by the softness in his voice.

“You always took care of everyone else,” he added, “but now… someone’s taking care of you.”

And there it was—that twin intuition, cracking my chest open in the way only Charles could. The way he always saw me, even when you didn’t want to be seen.

I reached over, laced my pinky with his like i used to when i was little and scared of the dark.

“I’ve always had someone taking care of me,” I whispered.

He looked down at my pinky looped through his. Then nodded once, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

“Happy birthday, Jules.”

“Happy birthday, Charlie.”

—

Charles had left to join Alexandra with something.

The rooftop was empty now.

The last of the laughter had faded. The champagne flutes were cleared. The music had stopped humming through the speakers. And somewhere below, Monaco slept beneath a blanket of soft moonlight and glittering sea.

I was still barefoot, my heels abandoned somewhere near the door. Lando was behind me—quiet, lingering—watching the way my hair moved in the night breeze, the curve of my back as you leaned against the railing, still sipping the last of my birthday espresso like it was wine.

Neither of us had said much in the last few minutes. The silence didn’t need to be filled. It felt like something sacred now, this stillness. A pause between chapters.

Lando stepped forward.

I turned, and mybeyes softened the second they met his.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” I teased lightly, nudging his shoulder with mine.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not out of sadness. Just something deeper. Quieter. His fingers found mine, weaving through them carefully, like he was memorizing the shape of my hand all over again.

“I’ve been carrying something with me all night,” he said.

I blinked. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his free hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket—pulling out a small, black velvet box.

My breath got caught in my chest.

“Lan—”

“I didn’t want to do it during the party,” he said quickly, voice low and steady. “Not in front of everyone. Not with Max yelling and your brother two seconds away from tackling me.”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. My heart was racing.

“I wanted it to be just you. Just me.” He looked around the empty rooftop. “Just this.”

Slowly, he sank to one knee, the box still unopened in his hand.

And suddenly it was like everything stilled. The sea. The stars. My pulse.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I realized how fiercely you love everyone else,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the way you carry the weight of the world and still find room for joy. The way you laugh like it’s the first time every time. The way you hold onto people so tightly that they never want to let go.”

He paused, smiling slightly. “You made space for me. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to carry anything alone again.”

He opened the box.

The ring inside was simple. Elegant. Timeless.

The way he thought of me.

“Jules Leclerc,” he breathed. “Will you marry me?”

I didn’t answer at first.

Because I was crying. Silently. Full-bodied, chest-aching tears—the kind that came from being seen so completely, so intimately, i didn’t know how to hold it all at once.

And then, through the blur of tears and the shaking breath, i whispered:

“Yes.”

He was up before I finished the word, arms around me, his lips pressed to my forehead, my cheeks, my smile. We were both laughing and crying and saying I love you like it was the only language we knew.

Somewhere down below, the waves kissed the shore.

But up here?

Up here, time stopped.

And forever began.

—

I didn’t sleep that night.

Neither of us did.

Between the adrenaline, the endless kisses, the whispered “fiancé” muttered every five minutes just to hear how it sounded… we were floating.

Morning came fast.

The Monaco sun filtered through the curtains of the apartment, and I sat cross-legged on the couch, hair messy, oversized hoodie swallowed over my knees—his hoodie, of course. Lando paced with two mugs of coffee in hand and nerves in his throat.

“You sure we’re ready for this?” he asked, even as he handed me a cup.

I raised a brow. “What, telling my family? The people who’ve loved me through every single meltdown, breakup, and panic attack I’ve ever had?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Then absolutely not.”

He groaned, dropping next to me on the couch. I reached over and took his hand.

“They love you, Lan,” I whispered, pressing my thumb into the curve of his palm. “And they love us.”

“You sure Charles won’t try to tackle me?”

“Eighty percent.”

He gave me a side-eye. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

A Few Hours Later

It was casual on the surface: a quiet brunch with Charles, Arthur, and maman. We done this dozens of times. Croissants, espresso, sunlight. Maman flitting between the kitchen and the table, humming to herself.

But Charles had been eyeing us both for a solid ten minutes now.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked finally, fork paused mid-air. “You’re smiling like… serial killers.”

Arthur leaned back and smirked. “They’re definitely hiding something.”

I locked eyes with Lando. He gave a slight nod. It was time.

I stood up slowly, heart pounding, holding up my left hand.

The room froze.

“Jules,” maman whispered, one hand already rising to her mouth.

“We’re engaged,”I said softly, my voice cracking from the weight of it. “Lando proposed last night. After the party.”

Charles blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

And then—“You proposed after my toast?!”

Lando laughed nervously. “I swear I didn’t plan it like that.”

Maman was already pulling me into her arms, wiping tears from her cheeks as she whispered a prayer in French and kissed the side of my face. Arthur stood, grinning wide as he pulled Lando into a too-tight hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

Charles, meanwhile, just sat there.

Silent.

Until he looked up at Lando with a sigh and stood.

Everyone held their breath.

Then—he walked around the table, stopped in front of Lando, and pulled him into a hug so tight, so genuine, it made my eyes sting.

“Just don’t break her heart,” he whispered into Lando’s ear.

“I won’t,” Lando promised.

“I’ll know if you do.”

“I know you will.”

Charles pulled back and nodded once before glancing over at you. “I hate that you’re gonna be a Norris,” he muttered.

I beamed. “I’m not. I’m keeping Leclerc.”

He fist-pumped. “Yes!”

“I have to go call Alex and Charlotte to start wedding planning!” I said grabbing Maman and entering the house, leaving the boys on the balcony.

Later That Evening

The nerves came rushing back as the video call loaded.

Lando and I sat curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under his, laptop perched on the coffee table between two mugs of tea we hadn’t touched. First on screen was Oli, then Flo, their eyes immediately narrowing like they sensed something was up.

“Okay,” Flo said, squinting. “You’re both sitting suspiciously close. Did you get a puppy?”

“No way, it’s a turtle,” Oli added. “You guys totally look like turtle people.”

And then, Cisca’s face appeared on screen—her familiar smile already easing the nerves in your chest. She looked cozy at home, a glass of wine in hand, gaze flicking between her son and the woman curled into his side.

“What’s going on?” she asked, the first to speak gently. “You’ve got that look, Lando. The same one you had when you drove a kart for the first time.”

Lando cleared his throat, fingers squeezing mine a little tighter. I nodded towards him.

He took a breath.

“We got engaged.”

There was a beat of silence—and then chaos.

Flo screamed, instantly flailing off-screen in excitement. Oli shouted “NO WAY” like it was breaking news. And Cisca—her hand flew to her mouth, tears already springing to her eyes before the rest of the sentence was even out. Adam just had a permanent smile plastered on his face.

“You—really?” she whispered, blinking.

Lando smiled at her, all soft and proud. “Yeah, Mum. I asked her last night. After the party. She said yes.”

My hand lifted automatically, showing them the ring, and Flo reappeared on-screen with a dramatic gasp that nearly made me almost drop the laptop.

“Wait—oh my god. Jules. That’s so pretty.”

“I love it,” Cisca said softly, still a little breathless, her eyes fixed on me now. “I always hoped… but I never wanted to say too much.”

“You made a damn good choice, son.” Adam said causing lando to smile.

“I know.”

I smiled and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I love him,” I said quietly. “And I love this family already.”

That’s when Cisca’s voice wavered, eyes glassy.

“And now you’re part of it. Officially.” She blinked rapidly, then laughed, wiping her cheek. “God, look at me. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“Too late,” Oli teased.

Flo cut in, practically vibrating. “We need to plan a trip! I need to give you an in-person scream hug!”

Lando leaned closer to the screen. “We’ll come soon. Promise.”

The call stretched into an hour—stories, questions, wedding hints. And through it all, Cisca kept looking at me the way a mother does when she knows her son is going to be okay. When she sees the kind of love that doesn’t just burn, but lasts.

And just before the call ended, she reached toward the camera, like she could touch me through the screen.

“I hope you know,” she said, voice thick with love, “I already thought of you as part of our family. But now, I get to call you my daughter.”

My eyes stung again.

“I’d be honored,” I whispered.

Lando reached over, brushing a thumb over my cheek as the screen faded to black.

“She loves you, you know.”

I turned my head, smiling. “I know.”

“And so do I.”

__

paddock reactions! to the engagement

Race weekends were always a blur—flights, media, strategy meetings, adrenaline and tire smoke. But this weekend? This weekend felt different.

Because now there was a ring on my finger.

And the world didn’t know. Yet.

It started quietly.

Whispers. Curious glances. Subtle gestures between Lando and I —his hand always brushing over mine, his eyes softer than usual when he looked at me. The drivers noticed first, of course. They always did.

It was Oscar who caught it.

I was in the McLaren motorhome, mid-conversation with Lando about telemetry or tire wear—or pretending to be—when Oscar passed by, paused, backtracked, and squinted.

“Is that…?” He pointed to my hand, blinking. “Are you engaged?!”

I froze.

Lando burst out laughing.

And that was all it took.

An Hour Later

I wasn’t sure who told who next—Oscar or Carlos—but suddenly it felt like the entire paddock knew.

George cornered Lando during the cooldown after FP1. “Mate, you didn’t even text the group chat?!”

Alex demanded to know how many people knew before him. (The answer was two—my brother and my mother—and he still sulked.)

Lewis gave me a quiet hug in the Ferrari hospitality unit later, whispering, “You two are beautiful together. Protect that.”

Pierre almost tackled me in the hallway. “You said nothing in the driver’s lounge? Rude.”

He had always been like another brother to me.

Esteban handed me a croissant like it was a wedding gift.

And Sebastian Vettel, who just happened to be visiting that weekend, pulled Lando into a firm, fatherly hug and said, “She’s brilliant. You’re lucky.”

But it was the moment with Max that made me laugh the hardest.

He walked up with his arms crossed, glanced at my hand, and raised a brow. “Guess I lost the bet with Charles.”

I blinked. “You bet on us?”

“I said he’d wait until the off-season. Clearly, I underestimated his emotional impulsiveness.”

I turned to Lando. “That sounds like an insult.”

“It was,” Max said with a shrug, then smirked. “Congrats though. Genuinely.”

And then, of course, came the group photo.

The McLaren media team, never ones to miss a moment, pulled us both aside at golden hour behind the garage. Someone handed me a bouquet of orange pit boards tied with ribbon, and before i knew it, we were both posing, grinning like idiots, Lando’s arm around my waist and my hand—ring and all—pressed against his chest.

The caption was simple when they posted it:

“She said yes.”

I found Charles leaning against a pit wall, watching the sun sink low over the track.

“You okay?”I asked, sliding next to him.

He didn’t look at me right away. “You’re not my little sister anymore, you know.”

I nudged his shoulder. “Was I ever? It’s only four minutes, Cha.”

“Still feels like it sometimes,” he murmured. Then, after a pause, he added, “He makes you happy.”

I nodded. “He does.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

He finally turned to look at me—his eyes a little glassy, though he’d never admit it.

“But if he messes it up…”

“I know,” I grinned. “You’ll ruin his life.”

Charles smirked. “Exactly.”

—

dr_jules_leclerc is with lando

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 12,378,368 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : can’t wait to spend forever with you

—

comments on this post have been limited.

—

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story.

{caption ; my sister is getting married!! time to start wedding planning}

seen by charles_leclerc, lando, arthur_Leclerc and 338,378 others.

lando : she is an angel- so perfect

alexandrasaintmleux : truly!

—

part four done! let me know what you guys think — requests always open. thank you for all the support 💐💐

[thethronezone]

What do you think the Primarchs would want their wedding to be like?

This is assuming the Primarchs are marrying for love aka not an arranged marriage.

Mortarion - It's a small, very private ceremony held on his flagship. There's a few banners, the serfs have placed new candles, there's even a few flowers. Lowkey but it has a strange sort of earnestness behind it. Honestly though, Mortarion would rather just elope but for his beloved he will grin and bear with it. This is for them, after all. Maybe a dozen people invited, mostly to serve as witness as Mortarion says "I do" and his beloved does the same. Ditches the reception though and instead leaves with his spouse for their honeymoon.

Fulgrim - Since he's the kind of person to have planned his own wedding since he was like 8 years old, Fulgrim is very specific with how he wants it. He's a bit of a bridezilla, to be honest and will yell at at least a handful of people because they do something 'wrong'. It is a beautiful wedding though. A garden/paradise world, ice sculptures, delicacies from all over the galaxy, an orchestra playing both the classics and his and his beloved's personal favorites.

Angron - It barely counts as a wedding. Angron just kinda grabs his beloved and, in front of a bunch of his legion, states "From this day on, this is wife/husband/spouse. If anyone has a problem with it, speak now or stay silent." Of course, no one raises any objections, mostly because there's a look on Angron's face that promises a quick, gory death to anyone that does (it also helps that Kharn is glaring at everyone, urging them to shut the fuck up or else). Satisfied with the submission, Angron nods his head and dips with his, rather startled, wife/husband/spouse.

Magnus - Hope the guests likes the arcane cause that's the theme of this wedding. Magnus wants the wedding to be memorable and unique so he cooperates with his sons to create a magical display. Balls of light hovering in the ceiling, instruments that play themselves, magnificent fireworks etc.. Then there's the speeches. Because of course Magnus is going to have a lot to say during the wedding, both during the ceremony and the reception. He wants everyone to know how happy he is!

Perturabo - MEGA BRIDEZILLA. Don't get me wrong, it's an absolutely beautiful wedding with elegant decor and a scenic venue but dear god, Perturabo is acting like an absolute dictator as he tells everyone where to put things and where to go. Some poor serf is going to burst into tears when he starts yelling at them for using the wrong shade of white. He said eggshell white, not ivory! Alas, that is the prize of perfection. It's not overly pompous or so fancy that its distasteful, instead there's this subtle beauty to everything, the feeling that even the most minute details were considered and have a purpose.

Alpharius - There's no actual wedding day. Instead, the 'ceremony' takes place over a prolonged period of time, weeks and maybe even months. Small instances of sincerity, small tests of devotion. Their beloved is not told of the significance of these occasions or that they pass whatever test they are put through. All they know is that one day both Alpharius and Omegon start referring to them as their husband/wife/spouse and that's that. Congrats.

Lorgar - It's a very, very long wedding, with lots of speeches and ceremonials. Lorgar feels the intense need to thank god for giving him his beloved and make sure that their union is blessed. Seriously, he can't stop thanking god. There are tears in his eyes the entire time, he's so emotional. There's lots of hymns and songs, candles and incense everywhere. It's also a very traditional wedding though it still manages to feel very sincere and there's a genuine feeling of love.

Horus - Of COURSE the wedding takes place in the Imperial Palace, Horus would not have it anywhere else. And all his sons are there. And most of his brothers. Maybe even the Emperor. To Horus, the guest list is the most important part of the wedding (after actually getting married, of course). He finds it important for people to witness it, to partake and celebrate this union. Otherwise he's pretty happy to leave the rest of the wedding planning to his soon-to-be spouse.

Konrad - One word; elopement. Sorry not sorry but Konrad would rather rip off his own nails one by one and shove them up his nostrils than stand in front of a crowd and confess his feelings and vulnerabilities. It would probably end with a massacre, with his nerves geting the better of him. Instead Konrad wants a quite, private thing, just him and his beloved promising to be together forever. Some secluded location where no one can hear his whispers of devotion and promises of undying loyalty.

Sanguinius - Surprisingly hands off with the wedding planning? His sons practically beg him to leave it all to them and to just spend time with his fiancé. Besides, they know what he wants. Lots of light, a place with a high ceiling and great accoustics, a bunch of flowers (roses, duh!), live music and a wedding cake as tall as he is.

Corvus - Here comes the blushing bride! And by bride I mean Corvus. Mostly leaves the planning to his partner because he has no clue where to even start and is more focused on not getting cold feet and bailing. Does however request that it's a small wedding and that they only invite people that both of them know. Wants it to be intimate and happy, not some kind of pompous display.

Ferrus - A small, private ceremony with only a couple of his most trusted Iron Hands there to serve as witnesses. Oh, and Fulgrim of course. The ceremony proceeds quickly. A few vows and promises of loyalty, an exchange of rings and finally them writing their signatures on an Imperial document, making their marriage official. It's all over within the hour. Fulgrim is lowkey horrified by how simple and uneventful the whole event was but that's how Ferrus wanted it. He just wants to be married.

Rogal - He wants the wedding to take place either in the Imperial Palace or in one of his fortresses, partially because of safety reasons but also because of the symbolism. By getting wed here, he's proving to everyone that he's capable of sheltering and protecting his spouse. Very involved in the wedding planning and is, surprisingly, a bit of a bridezilla because he wants it a certain way and won't be dissuaded. There's a strict schedule to be followed and a dress code. And there will be cannons going off instead of wedding bells. Because cannons are more impressive.

Vulkan - Big wedding! Lots of guests! Vulkan wants everyone he knows to be there so it most likely ends up being an outdoor wedding. His sons are very involved in decorating the venue, making most of the decorations by hand. Vulkan himself makes the wedding ring. There's a live band but most of the music is going to be the guests singing wedding songs.

Lion - Super formal and traditional, more of a ceremony rather than a celebration. That doesn't mean that Lion is not happy and doesn't want to celebrate but that comes afterward, in private. To him, a wedding is more of a public spectacle meant to prove commitment. Still, he's got a reputation to uphold and so it is actually quite a beautiful wedding. Not cozy but elegant. Lots of banners and torches.

Leman - The wedding lasts for three days. First day is the exchange of vows and all that jazz but the rest of it? That's the wedding reception and it's straight up one big party. Lots of eating, drinking, dancing and telling stories. And so, so many toasts. It feels like every five minutes, some rando stands up from their seat, raises their cup and calls out a toast for the merry couple. And the longer the reception goes on, the drunker everyone gets and the toasts gets more and more, well, rowdy.

Jaghatai - Traditional Chogorian wedding, complete with all the customs, clothing and food. He's very proud of his culture and wants to share that with his spouse, invite them to take part in something he feels is very important. Of course, their own culture is also taken into account and implemented. Expect lots of guests, with White Scars, different tribes and family members. Magnus is definitely there.

Roboute - Very traditional, very formal yet honest and heartfelt too. Like, there are so many small little details that to most people, mean absolutely nothing but have some sort of meaning to Roboute and his beloved. So while it's a very formal event, he expresses his true feelings of love and devotion through these small details that only they notice. There's going to be lots of guests (even though Roboute would rather have a smaller wedding) but he's going to make sure that only those he actually likes gets seated close to the two of you.

[jaesblogstuff]

He doesn't listen I fear.

You know those instances where you’re a kid at school and your parents have to pick you up from school because you’re sick. That reminds me of Simon only time he’s much more stubborn and doesn’t take no for an answer most times.

⸻

You told him not to go in.

That morning, watching him drag his shirt over trembling fingers, you knew something was off. His shoulders slumped just a little too far, his voice caught in his throat when he said, “Just tired, that’s all.” And the heat rolling off of him when you touched his forehead—hellfire, even then.

“You should sit this one out, Simon,” you said quietly. “You’re running a fever.”

He grunted. Kissed your temple. “I’ve had worse.”

You didn’t argue. Not really. You just watched him lace up his boots and walk out the door like the stubborn bastard he is.

⸻

It doesn’t take long.

He holds out through briefing. Through training updates. Through a round of morning paperwork where he stares at the same page for twenty straight minutes. Nobody says anything, yet, but Price is watching him closely. Always is.

Then it happens.

Mid-conversation, Simon loses his balance. He rights himself fast—too fast, but not before his hand slaps against the edge of the table for support. He’s pale beneath the mask, which makes the red flush on his neck stand out even more.

“Riley.” Price’s voice cuts through the air. Calm. Measured. “Med bay. Now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re burning up, son.”

Simon opens his mouth to argue again—but sways instead.

Price sighs. “That’s it. You’re done. You’re no good to anyone like this. Go. And we’re calling your emergency contact.” you

“No—no, I’m good,” he rasps.

“Not asking, mate.”

⸻

The number they dial is the only one listed.

Just “Mrs. Riley – Home.”

When you answer the call, your voice is calm but laced with expectation. You excused yourself from the meeting you were in. “Let me guess. He didn’t make it through the morning.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, “That’d be correct, ma’am. Captain Price here. I’m sorry to call out of the blue. He’s in the med bay now—won’t let anyone near him. We’d like you to come collect him.”

You’re already getting your keys. “I told him this morning to —. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

And you are.

⸻

The base is quiet when you arrive—at least the part they bring you through. You’re escorted by a corporal who keeps glancing at you like he doesn’t know what to make of you. Neat coat. Composed expression. Eyes like polished glass. You move like someone used to command, but not in the military sense—something quieter. Older.

They don’t know who you are, not really. They’ve heard of “the missus.” Simon’s muttered references. A few quiet mentions of home, of normalcy. But none of them have seen you before.

Until now.

You step into the med bay and everything shifts.

There’s Simon—half-sitting on the cot, mask still on but sweat plastering his shirt to his back. He looks miserable. Barely holding himself upright. The medic stands a few feet away, clearly not trying to get too close.

You don’t speak loudly. You don’t need to.

“Simon.”

His head lifts.

The change is instant.

His shoulders relax. His breathing slows. He looks at you like salvation has just walked in wearing your coat.

“Love,” he croaks. “Didn’t want them to call you.”

You walk straight to him, planting yourself at his side.

“You should’ve stayed home.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re delirious.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Lets you rest your hand against his forehead. His skin is scorching. You look at him for a long second, then reach to gently peel the mask up and off.

The medics blink. Soap, lingering in the hall, actually stares.

You’re the only one he lets touch him like that.

“Let’s go,” you murmur. “Now.”

And he follows.

Like a shadow. Like a man undone.

Nobody says a word as you lead him out—his massive form leaning on you like he’s hollowed out, his head bowed slightly, his steps heavy but obedient. He doesn’t resist. Doesn’t argue.

The sergeant at the desk stares openly. One of the privates murmurs under their breath, “That’s Mrs. Riley?”

Price just nods once to himself, looking quietly satisfied. “Told you she was the only one who could get through to him.”

⸻

He’s out before you hit the highway.

One arm folded against the window, cheek pressed to his sleeve, breath slow and raspy. His body sinks into the passenger seat like it’s the first safe place he’s had all day.

You glance over at him, your fingers tight on the wheel. A small sigh escapes your chest.

“You never listen,” you whisper. “But I’ll always come get you.”

[remae-freyae]

Title: Misbound

Part I: The Wrong Book

No one had ever really looked at Y/N.

She’d been given her magic tome a year ago, just like every other student at the Academy. One student, one book, sealed to their soul until the lessons inside were learned. Master it, and you’d unlock your magical path. Most students completed their beginner tome in three to five months. Some took longer. Six months, maybe seven, if they were lazy or distracted.

Y/N had been on hers for a full year.

She didn’t complain. Not once. Just sat in the back row, scribbling notes and frowning softly as her spells fizzled or backfired or simply didn’t work. Her name became a whisper in the dorm halls. Not a cruel one—but dismissive. The kind of pitying cruelty wrapped in soft tones.

“She’s sweet, but slow.”

“She’s still on glow light runes, right?”

“I heard she accidentally set her desk on fire trying to conjure a paperclip.”

No one asked her why it was taking so long. No teacher double-checked her tome. The Academy’s spellbooks were carefully sorted and bound with layered enchantments. There had never been a misprint, not in two hundred years. So they assumed she was just... behind.

What Y/N didn’t know—what no one realized—was that her book hadn’t been a beginner’s tome at all.bIt had been a master’s guide to spell theory and arcane manipulation. A book that only should’ve been placed in the hands of a certified mage with years of training under their belt. How it ended up in her hands was anyone’s guess. A clerical glitch. A binding accident. Divine mischief.

She only knew one thing: it was hard.

Harder than it should have been. Spells didn’t do what the examples in class said they would. Her runes were different. The instructions made no sense. She spent her nights fumbling through scrolls in the library, re-reading the basics that everyone else had already learned.

She taught herself, from nothing, what most students were given hand-fed in the first week. But then something strange happened.

Once she understood the foundation—the true beginner-level spells she found in a borrowed book—her tome suddenly... made sense. The magic started clicking together like a puzzle she’d been solving upside down. One spell unlocked the understanding of the next. And then the next.

And now, one long year later— she was finally on the final chapter.

The great hall was crowded for the annual demonstration—a live test, open to staff and students, showcasing how far the first-years had come. It wasn’t meant to be flashy. Just a chance to show off some levitation, transmutation, maybe a novice shield if someone got fancy. Some parents came. The headmaster and professors clapped. It was meant to be safe.

Y/N stood near the back, chewing her lip, her fingers tight around the edge of her sleeve. Her name was last on the list. Of course it was. The instructors were already whispering among themselves. Some with gentle patience. Others with polite resignation.

“She’ll try,” one said. “That’s all we can ask.”

“They say she still hasn’t summoned a single stable ward,” another murmured.

“I heard she cried during glyph alignment," another snickered. “Hopefully she won’t pass out this time.”

Y/N walked to the center of the stage when called, eyes lowered, heart pounding. Her palms were sweating. She didn’t want to do this. She hated stages. She hated the feeling of being stared at.

But she raised her hands anyway. Y/N took a breath and started whispering the incantation she’d been working on for weeks. And nothing happened. At first.

Then, a slow, golden pulse spread from her fingers. Not a flicker. Not a spark. But a weave of magic—runes folding outward in perfect sequence, layered in interlocking light. The floor around her lit up in a radiant arcane ring, the sigils glowing so bright some students flinched. A pressure filled the air, followed by a golden hum.

And then—without lifting a single finger—she conjured a floating constellation of crystalline orbs, each one pulsing with stabilized spell energy. They rotated around her like planets orbiting a star. Gasps echoed through the hall.

One of the crystal spheres unfolded into a mirror rune, reflecting not her image—but her tome—now hovering open in front of her, the final page glowing.

“Impossible,” one instructor breathed. “That’s a master level sequence—”

“Is that Tome Series 5?” gasped another. “That’s not a student book! That’s not—how did she—who gave her that?!”

In the center of it all, the Headmaster of the Academy stood frozen, staring at the arcane signature blooming across the floor. His face went pale. “She’s been working from the wrong book this entire time.”

And Y/N.. She was still casting. Still weaving. Still glowing. Too focused to hear the gasps. Too practiced at ignoring them.

But for the first time, they weren’t laughing. They were watching.

Everyone is given a simple tome as their introduction to magic. You are not allowed to learn more spells until you master the first. You spent far longer than anyone else attempting to master your tome. Once you do, nobody believes it’s your only one.

[janecafe]

future spouse's pac: reasons why they choose to love you every time

uno - dos - tres

paid readings available here

masterlist

©janecafe 2025

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i just wanna be more authentic here. your person is a class that doesn't believe in love, they think it's just human fabricated and imagination well perhaps this may be because they have not yet experienced the feeling of "love". their beliefs and practices affecting their perspectives of what love really looks like. i think they're insecure about themselves have a gloomy heart about the topic of affection. so the time they infatuated with you, they will experience many first times. the reason why this person to love you is that you were the first person to show care for them, it's like a natural characteristics of you.

i think you will work with them, in a project. it will take months for this person to grow feelings and as the time you're gonna know about their feelings, it's also gonna take more time for you to mirror these emotions with them. this seems like a slow burn yet a very assured love. when i say it was their first time to in love, i speak about--a real love, the feeling is different and because they love you because of you.

the second thing is that you're not afraid to show yourself well despite the hesitation and nervousness you feel inside most of the time. you have this mindset where; "who's gonna do this? i have no one to rely on but myself needs me more". it's this positive aspect is energizing you to do the task. i heard you might be insecure and have a public speaking but this bright side of your profile always gets you to wake up in reality. although your voice comes out in a full you can feel and hear your heart banging loudly inside when interacting with strangers. i feel that you have a high frequency, you may frequently noticed people at the public, staring at you without any reason. sometimes you felt awkward and embarrassed.

another thing to add to the list is that, despite that you are someone who is quiet and gentle. you have a great humor, i think people who are close to you like your jokes but most of the time these gags are overlay from you telling the truth. its like you are saying what's real behind those. well, this person will love your humour too. you are making them laugh even with their bad days, it makes their cheeks hurt. most of time, people don't understand the two of you because you two are the ones who master of each other's understanding. they love how you try your best understand them in every way possible without judgement this is how they fall deeper to you to the point they are willing to protect you to those people who would try to harm you physically or emotionally.

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

ohh, la la la. they be willing to be stripped and get cold for you. love makes them crazy, i think they have a circle where most of their friends are in love in such a way they tell themselves that, "love makes you an idiot and crazy bet i'll never be like that" not until you come and knock the hell out of them. their perception on love turned around like 360° is indeed make them insane. they feel you are so rare that's why they have a strong feelings for you. even in afterlife, they be willing to chase and make love with you haha. this reading becoming out of the topic, well the thing that makes them choose to love you is that, you give them an unquestionable loyalty.

you show them the best version of themselves which they didn't know before because all this time they think they already reach that--- that they reach the top of themselves. your presence makes a huge difference to them. it's not a big deal, it's neither your fault for them to change but it was their decision. they embrace and love it. another thing is that you are a home and a light, it's like a feeling of waking up that sunlight hitting your face. they love it when you give the best comfort especially when they really need one.

i think they will pursue you in such a very long way and with the time you are gonna them love too. they'll be like; "finally, my happiness choose me". from their expectations and imagine they already love the life that you two were building.

you are their muse of art. the root of their inspiration. the star in the darkest days. they can metaphor you with everything, make you poems with so fondness of words. they're lucky that they are able to love and see you in this lifetime. and the day they will meet you, is the day they will share their wind-gentle love story.

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

the first thing i heard is that--- you make them marveled in love. they love how you send cute messages whenever they're at work. they think you are the most unexpected thing that happens in their life, they didn't expect you to come and boom their world. you shake things up i swear. they feel that they're bad person and nobody will ever love, they feel that they don't deserve you and their love. but you make them realize that love can make change. love makes you better. they love how patience you are with them and they are so forever grateful for that.

i think you give your best to match their energy and they really do appreciate your efforts. this slaps them that you are the one that they are with for the rest of their lives. they want to love you much better than you do to them.

they also love your kisses and hugs. it makes their knees weak. and trust me, they'll try their best to match and give you the best communication. your encouragement and care was the ones they choose to love you every day.

another thing, they appreciate and have a soft spot for you when they take care of them when they are sick. when you make them food even though they don't usually ask for it. although most of the time you make something stupid they realize that you are the person they want for the rest of their life. i considered that their love for you was better and stronger than others.

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[elliesanqel]

pause, catching ellie drawing you naked !

oops! ⋆˙⟡

warnings; perv!ellie, mentions of nudity, language, suggestiveness, men and minors dni.

a/n; i saw this req and i was like nah i HAVE to write this ASAP. i loved the idea sm and loved writing it. thank you for requesting! ➝ masterlist

~

ellie has a thing for you. you even knew before she herself knew. she was always awkward around you and she did that thing all the time where she rubs the back of her neck any time she’d get close to you. knowing she liked you and knowing how much she liked you were vaguely different, though. you’d often just come over to her cabin, walking in without even knocking because she’d always let you.

that was till now. ellie thought you had been put on patrol today because she’d asked. and she asked for a reason. not very smart of her to be leaving her door unlocked but she was non the wiser that someone else had took your spot and you weren’t leaving today. ellie spun the pen nervously in her hand, images of you flashing up in her head, the ones she could never rid. her diary on her lap, her leg bouncing up and down. there was no way she could ever get rid of these thoughts—ones of you…naked. yeah…naked.

she silently cursed herself for thinking of you like this, but it made the heat growing between her thighs feel hotter. until her pencil meets the paper. “fuck,” she mumbles as she draws you on her page, drawing every single detail and leaving nothing left out, making sure its perfect for her eyes only. she focused on particular areas, such as your boobs, your pussy, your hips, the list goes on. she gave alot of detail, until she heard her door slam open.

“oh my gosh, ellie! you’re never gonna believe what i—“ you paused, your eyes landing on her completely pale and dumbfounded face. she never normally looked like that when you walked in so you immediately raises your suspicions. her demeanour completely changed—almost slamming her diary shut. your brows furrow, looking at her as she never broke eye contact, probably because she couldnt move from shock and silently praying you didnt see anything.

“what was that?” you ask, voice innocent and it ran straight through her. her eyes blinked, her whole body shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “n—nothing…!” she gulped, but you could see right through her lie. your eyes squinted as you walked closer to her, her eyes never leaving you as you did because she didnt know what else to even look at. she held her diary tighter—thinking you wouldnt suddenly take it out of her hands, even though thats exactly what you did. she gasped slightly, her face now growing redder. “w—wait, i…” she stutters. fuck. now she was definitely in deep shit. or so she thought.

your eyes widened at the page you opened up to, seeing your exact figure, but naked. your eyes widen even further, your finger tracing over the paper. you never knew she was capable of such things as this, but nonetheless you never felt uncomfortable. you noticed how she’d payed extra attention to certain places and it made you grin. you put her book down, standing straight infront of her as you look down at her in her seat, looking completely helpless.

“its good, i’ll give you that. but i think you need a reference, hm?” you say, beginning to take your shirt off slowly.

ellies eyes widen and her cheeks grow pure red, immediately shifting in her seat as she now realised what you meant as she watched you completely undress infront of her eyes, absolutely unashamed and she loved that.

it turned out her night was going to be long after all.

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @elliesngirl @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[dark-l-angel]

How would the batboys react to seeing s/o!reader having to kiss someone for a play and or musical. They're all briefed that its gonna happen, doesn't mean they have to feel good about it. S/o!reader apologizes afterwards by taking them out on a stupid cute date askksfdjfakl

Batboys reaction to kissing someone else for a game

Dick Grayson Aka The Golden Boy™

He says he’s fine. He acts like he’s fine. But he is absolutely not fine.

He claps for you after the play with that tight-lipped, polite smile. The one where he’s trying so hard not to be petty because he respects your craft. But the second you two are alone?

"You were amazing up there... but, um, did he have to touch your waist like that?"

He’s not mad at you, he just needs a little emotional CPR. You take him out for a late-night milkshake and fries run, and let him pick the jukebox songs. You tease him, whispering : "If I wanted someone else, you’d know it. But I like my sweet dork with the gymnastics booty."

He melts. He’ll pretend to pout a little longer, but by the third fry in your mouth, he's already kissing your cheeks

Jason Todd aka The Hot-Tempered Softie

Jason hates it. His jaw clenches. He sits through the entire play with his arms folded like he’s holding in the apocalypse.

"It’s just acting" he grunts. But his eyes say: I will destroy that guy’s entire bloodline.

You have to drag him out of his broody thundercloud with an aggressively cute date. Like matching outfits, couple selfies, stupid heart-shaped sunglasses-level cute.

You kiss his cheek and say "You’re the only guy I’d kill for, you know that right?"

He finally breaks into a smirk.

"I better be. That guy’s lucky it was a stage kiss."

By the end of the night, he's holding your hand and growling low : "Next time, I’m playing the love interest. I’ll memorize the whole damn script."

Tim Drake aka The Overthinker

Tim spirals.

He intellectually knows it’s acting. He respects the craft. He even helped you rehearse lines. But when it actually happens on stage? He dissociates into another dimension.

Post-show, he's awkward. Fidgety. Avoids eye contact like he just watched his laptop die during a dissertation.

"I’m not mad. I just... I don’t know, I didn’t expect to feel this weird."

You take him out for a "soft boyfriend therapy" date.. warm drinks, cuddly bookstore stroll, holding his hand while you ramble about your dreams. You throw in a spontaneous forehead kiss : "You’re my real-life love interest, Tim. You win."

Cue Tim.exe rebooting.

"Okay... but just don’t fall for any method actors, alright?"

Damian Wayne aka The Possessive Gremlin Prince

He watches the kiss and immediately texts Alfred: "I require a list of every acting school within a 200-mile radius that teaches swordplay."

He is SEETHING. Not at you. But at the impertinent peasant who dared touch what’s his.

You have to drag him out on a date to the petting zoo or something equally disarming, and keep feeding him compliments.

"You looked disgustingly hot sitting in the audience, you know. All broody. Made me forget my lines."

He tries to hold onto his pride, but melts when you feed a llama together. Eventually grumbles: "Next performance, I’ll be your stage partner. We’ll rehearse. Thoroughly."

Yes, Dami. Thoroughly.