#and also any plot would be better than the pregnancy one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vagabond-umlaut · 1 year ago

Text

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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javierpena-inatacvest · 7 months ago

Text

A Little Longer

Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺

A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!

Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.

So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.

"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.

"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.

"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."

The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.

"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"

"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.

"But... We get to play by my rules."

At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.

"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.

"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."

You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.

"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."

You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?

"You're on, Morales."

It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.

He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.

But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.

Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.

"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."

You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.

6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?

For the average person watching football, you were right.

But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.

After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.

It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.

Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.

If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.

At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.

"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.

"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.

"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."

Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.

It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.

"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."

With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.

"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.

"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.

You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.

"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.

The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.

Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.

"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.

You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.

"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."

Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.

His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene

"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."

“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.

“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.

Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.

“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.

“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”

“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.

The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.

"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"

Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.

Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.

But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.

Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."

"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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foldingfittedsheets · 2 months ago

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My brain has two common nightmare settings. The first is zombies. Can’t explain it, but I am utterly unable to consume zombie media of any kind lest I have some extremely vivid night terrors.

And it doesn’t have to be exclusively zombie media to kick off zombie dreams. Anything scary will do. Or even something not scary.

Like The Mummy. It’s all goofy jokes and the glory of Rachel Weiss but it kicked off a round of nightmares for me cause the plot may be silly but some of the visuals are horrifying enough that my brain went, “Hey what if that were real?” I woke up drenched in sweat, clutching my cats for safety. It is a great tragedy I don’t get to rewatch it or see subsequent titles.

For the same reason I avoid any zombie-adjacent games. It’s a bummer, cause things like Fallout and Bioshock seem cool but it’s not worth night terrors. Also the amount of people who go “wELl tHeY’Re not TeChNiCaLLy zOmBieS” when I say why I can’t play those games fills me with rage, you deal with night terrors and tell me those aren’t zombies.

(I often spend zombie dreams looking for Leeloo. Surviving is important but not as important as saving my little cat from the apocalypse.)

But on a completely different side of the spectrum the other type of horror dream I have is a 180 pivot from zombies and doesn’t have a specific trigger. It’s just a random theme that happens on occasion and it’s not recurring because the circumstances are always different but yeah anyway I have nightmares about being pregnant.

Literally one of the worst things I can imagine is growing a thing inside me.

To all the people with a uterus who are full of joy and power in that act of creation, more power to you, but to me it is the stuff of my worst imaginings to have a parasite sucking the nutrients from my teeth and clawing its way free from me.

A common theme to these nightmares is that the pregnancy is spontaneous immaculate conception but no one believes me. My beloved leaves me, thinking I cheated on them. It got to the point that my beloved promised they would believe that I hadn’t cheated on them if it ever happened in real life because it came up so frequently. This actually helped to reduce that plot line.

These dreams just pop up sometimes, usually for unknown reasons, and I always start the dream pretty heavily pregnant and past when I can really abort the fucker inside and I spend the dream in a desperate panic to know how I let it go this far and dreading the imminent pain and horror of child birth.

I always announce to my beloved the morning, “Had another pregnancy nightmare,” and they always kiss my cheek and remind me that they’ll believe me. I guess it’s still slightly better than the zombie dreams. But only barely.

#ramblies #bad dreams #nightmare #zombies #story

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dilemmars · 5 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈.⠀( some mysteries are better left unresolved , 9.6k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this second chapter, there's going to be an explicit scene of bullying and violence towards reader, and mentions of prostitution. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀second chapter out! i don't know why, but i found it kind of difficult to finish it because it took me a while to decide how i was going to approach the first part. and i also feel like it's super repetitive, so i hope you don't find it boring (an di'm sorry if you do! i'll try to write better) :(( then we have more arcane episode 2 content, and a bittersweet end. next chapter will be the end of the first act (and we all know how it goes), i would advice to prepare yourself for some angst. meanwhile, just enjoy 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

The whisper of the name of Vander, the hound of the underworld, and his fearsome reputation, had drifted through the gaunt streets of Zaun like a famished viper aching for nourishment, but it had also reverberated within the glassed walls of the brothel in which you had grown up. You had first heard it from your mother's lips, like the caress of a feather brushing your skin, when you were too young to remember what had been of the city before him. In your blurred memories, only a chaos of violence and children's games, and then just peace. Like so many secrets huddled under the beds and behind the wardrobes of The Gilded Lily, it was a mystery how Vander had managed to keep that invisible line between the two worlds intact for so long. The only important thing, however, was that it worked.

At the age of twelve, you had come to think that he could be your father. Like many children of prostitutes, you had never met yours. Like many unwanted results of endless nights of work, you hadn't been much more than a mouth to feed that couldn't monetise your stay at the brothel. At least, until you got older. You had spent your days wandering the city in search of mechanisms to fix, wanting to spend as little time as possible under the brothel roof, knowing that your presence was not welcome. Profiting from the rare tastes of the men and women who frequented the many decorated rooms downstairs —and the even wilder fantasies they paid for in the rooms upstairs— your mother had decided to keep you when she learned of the unexpected pregnancy, against the madam's insistent advice and the usual procedure on such occasions.

During your childhood you had heard too many names whispered in the perpetual night of Zaun, always hidden in the poorly lit corridors of the place, but Vander's had never been one of the feigned moans that used to echo in your head even when you covered your ears. Only once, while your mother was getting ready for one of The Gilded Lily's most important clients, your nimble hands braiding and winding strands of her hair, had she muttered those six letters, in a hurried ‘If you ever find yourself in danger, call on Vander’. She had always become wary, anxiety creeping like a terrifying shiver up her spine, when you had to leave the building without a place to shelter. And on those occasions, after forcing herself to ask you not to return until after the early hours of the morning, you would lose yourself in the alleys of Zaun.

You still remembered that night, when her lips had left a quick kiss on your forehead, a carmine shadow that had remained on your skin until she had smudged it with her thumb, and then you had disappeared from her room, carrying that unknown name in your heart like a secret. It had been no accident that your mother had confided those words to you after seeing you come home with more than one bruise on your face, some nights even more, because she knew he could help you. And her instinct had not failed, because you had remembered his name precisely until you had needed to pronounce it.

Life in the brothel hadn't been so bad once you had familiarised to the overpowering scent of all the perfumes, the chaos of the attic rooms —with clothes of all kinds scattered on the beds, make-up products everywhere— and the unclassifiable noises behind closed doors that became a background melody once you got used to them. Still, and despite the fact that all the women and men who worked there had found it hard to consider you as one of their own, sometimes even treating you more like a pet than a child, you valued your independence too much to waste time getting annoyed looks for being in the way. You had often slipped into the alleyways adjoining the big building, after looking for the moment when the Madam locked herself in her office, and you had walked the dirty streets of the undercity with your head down under your hood.

That had been how you had discovered the tattered shop of the gentle Benzo, the owner of a cave full of treasures, who had grown fond of you. He had given you your first screwdriver, and taught you how to build any mechanism from scratch. He always kept useless pieces of machinery in a box with your name on it, ready for you to pick them up as soon as you could. At first it had been in exchange for you looking after the little boy who had been left outside his door years ago, who was only slightly younger than you, but it had ended up becoming a problem, even if he hadn't been aware of it at the time.

In Zaun people didn't need a reason to sin. It was as easy as breathing the foul oxygen that clung to your skin and poisoned you from the inside, urging you to steal, to fight for money, to kill if you had to. The need made you unpredictable, desperate. And that culture of poverty, applied to children, was lethal to those with fewer possibilities. Applied to you, well, let's just say it had meant a big target painted on your forehead that screamed you were too easy a prey for the most despicable ones.

It had not been the first time you had been attacked thinking you could have something of value in your pockets. You had heard the comments of adults passing by, whispering about the blood that ran through your veins, speculating about the amount of money you would have under your name just because you lived in The Gilded Lily. They had assumed you were the brothel's heiress, always messing around in the city streets with no sense of direction, ignoring the consequences, and you had dressed up in the mask they had woven for you, lifting your chin proudly as you listened to them, wanting to believe that fantasy. Until the first punch had come. Merciless, silent, followed by a low laugh and a threat. You had curled up as overly bold hands roamed your body in search of diamonds, when you could only offer nuts and bolts.

But they had grown even bolder, taking everything you had on you no matter how little it was worth, leaving you with less and less material and more than bruises.

That night they had simply gone overboard, for the fun of it.

You had tried to stifle a chuckle at almost bumping into a customer, too busy making a funny face at Ekko as a goodbye, while sneaking out of the shop door. No sooner had you set foot in the street, the cold air outside invading your lungs almost painfully, than you had received the habitual punch. Swift and heavy against your windpipe, knocking the breath out of you, bending your body forward. One of your attackers had laughed to your right when the bag you had been holding had fallen to the floor, spilling screws and metal pieces onto the cobbled floor, and hadn't even bothered to pick them up. They had finally decided to stop pretending that mugging you was not their goal.

You had held your hands to your chest, your eyes following a screw rolling a few centimetres, before a second punch landed, straight in your face. A twinge of pain had coursed through you as you felt their fist hit a wound on your cheekbone that hadn't quite healed, and you had frowned, stumbling back. The third, aimed at your jaw, had been the one that had knocked you to the ground.

You had collapsed, gasping for air, curling into yourself on the cold floor, dazed. Your body had pulsed, your heart pounding, and you could only think that if you stayed still long enough, they would leave you alone. With your back pressed against the wall of Benzo's building, your ragged breaths had hit your forearms with every inhale, your arms protecting your face. But far from hearing their laughter fade down the alley, the silence had granted you a moment's peace before you were kicked in the pit of your stomach, a breathy and quiet pant spilling from between your lips.

You had drawn your knees even tighter to your chest, sobbing, and tensed your muscles, fighting against the weakening pain. You hadn't been able to tell if you were crying, thick tears sliding down your face, or if it was blood, but after a few seconds you hadn't cared. You had wanted it to be over as soon as possible, even if it meant being knocked unconscious. You'd had no idea how many there were, their voices, distorted by your fear and their amusement, shimmering in a mocking tone. You had closed your eyes as you had felt another kick to your ribs, and had cowered against the wall, wishing you were dead.

But then you had remembered your mother's words. Soft and crystalline in your memory, just as fearful as your voice when they gushed from your chest like salt water desperate to leave your lungs after a shipwreck, ‘I know Vander!’

The hand of one of them had paused against your shoulder at the broken sound, and you had frowned, praying that his name was threat enough to make them go away.

‘Do you?’ they had asked you, the poorly disguised fear in their voice feeling like a breath of fresh air.

‘Yes!’ you had replied, glancing out from behind your arms, breathing heavily. ‘And he's going to go after you if you don't stop!’

You hadn't let doubt creep into your gaze, even though you knew you hadn't offered a very confident view of yourself, cornered by three boys older than you in the middle of the street. The one who had prepared to unleash another kick had taken a step back, clenching his hands into tight fists, as if afraid of the consequences. But before you could even begin to get up, ready to run away, the one who had positioned himself on the opposite wall had slowly approached you, a crooked smile painting his face.

‘Do you actually believe her?’ he had muttered, crouching down in front of you, his venomous breath slipping fear into your bones, grabbing your hair so he could pull you face to face with him.

‘Why would Vander waste his time with someone like you?’ he had uttered, his eyes flashing with rage. You had dropped your gaze, trying to look away from him, wondering if you were paying for a crime someone else had committed, if the hatred in his eyes was really directed at you, who hadn't done anything, or if you were just the wrong person at the worst time.

‘I,’ you had stuttered, and the curve in his lips had widened, ’I'm not...’

‘Do you genuinely think he would come to save you?’ he had insisted, tightening his grip on your hair, forcing you to look at him, and you had closed your eyes angrily, the emptiness in your chest cracking at his words, seeping doubt into your heart. ‘I don't think so.’

You had held your breath, expecting to receive a final strike, for the three of them to retaliate against you, but his crouching body had tensed over yours as the shop door had burst open, his blonde hair caressing his neck. Your chest had deflated, knowing that a stranger would not prevent the attack from getting worse, and you had simply waited for him to leave.

‘Well, I do,’ the man had murmured, and you had turned your head to look at him, surprised that he had intervened. The light from Benzo's had spilled onto the cobblestone floor above his large figure, his shadow lengthening over when he had stepped forward. ‘Leave the girl alone, Deck.’

The breath had caught in your throat, shooting a flash of pain into your ribs. No one had ever stood up for you. You had narrowed your eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but had only been able to hear the disbelieving snort of the boy in front of you as he addressed the stranger.

‘Do you really know her, Vander?’

You had then opened your eyes wide, Deck's annoyance a reflection of the surprise in your gaze, but you had remained silent. Whatever happened would be your fault, simply for tempting fate in such a way.

‘Does it really matter?’ he had replied, all darkness and gravelly voice, and you had seen him pull a match from his pocket, lighting it with a quick flick against the wall, the fire illuminating his rugged features. He had rested the pipe between his lips as Deck decided what decision to make, and you had heard him let out a soft hum as the blond had raised his hand in a quick gesture, releasing you to the floor.

You had leaned your head against the wall, protecting yourself, as the boy had hovered over you to get up. You had expected one last punch, a warning for the next time he found you and Vander wasn't around. But he had done nothing, walking away with his friends in the shadows of the streets. Then you had clutched your hands to your chest, letting a faint whimper slide down your throat, sobbing, and you had rested a hand on the cold stones of the ground to try to get up.

But then the pain had shot up through your abdomen like an electrified circuit, your legs failing under your own weight, and you had collapsed to the ground. You had thought it was not worth staying, not when the consequences of daring to involve Vander could be worse than what you had already received, but he had stood beside you, his gaze lost in the distance, waiting for them to be gone for good.

‘Thank you,’ you had murmured, taking a breath of air. Perhaps sweet words would soften him in case he decided to punish you in some way for mentioning his name.

The whisper of your voice had seemed to bring him back to reality, his body turning towards you, and he had made the attempt to move closer, stopping short when he saw the way your body was pressed against the wall behind you, completely tense. He had withdrawn his pipe from his mouth, the smoke spiralling upwards, and frowned. If you hadn't been so busy running away, you would have been able to make out the glint of insecurity in his gaze.

‘Hey, little one,’ he had uttered, advancing towards you in short, painfully slow steps, as if confronting a wounded animal, ’I'm not going to hurt you.’

You had looked up, your cheeks broken in tears, your shoulders shaking, and you had seen the way his eyebrows had risen in a convex curve, his lips pulling into a coy smile that had been intended to soothe you. And then you'd felt his hand on your arm, his palm sliding its rough calluses against your skin, and you'd frozen, pausing for a moment before remembering that it was Vander. Vander. If your mother trusted him —and she trusted very few people— you could afford to put your faith in him until he proved to you that you could trust him too.

‘You don't have to worry,’ you had told him, huddling against the cool surface of the wall, trying to muster a smile that would keep him from asking too many questions.

‘You sound like it's not the first time this happens,’ he had observed, crouching down in front of you, pushing your long hair away from in front of your face so that he could assess your injuries.

The absence of a reply had been your response, and answer enough to his assumptions. Of course it had happened before, hence why they felt so comfortable attacking you in such a public place. It had happened before, to a lesser extent. Before, in dark alleys. Before, maybe starting with a slap. And with each time you had offered no resistance the harassment had continued, more times, more pressure, more pain.

‘Come here,’ he had sighed, leaving the pipe between his lips and sliding his hand down your back, under your knees, to take you in his arms. You had let him lift you up, your hair cascading, and sighed against his chest, resting your cheek with your eyes closed. At least you would have enjoyed a quiet moment before you had to find a place to spend the night, the brothel doors closed to you until your mother finished with all the customers who came in asking for her.

You had been forbidden to disturb her, because if the Madam lost money, no matter how young you were, it would be you who would have to take her place to compensate for the absence of income.

But then you'd realised that Vander had been walking back towards Benzo's shop, and you'd frowned at the dull light of the lamps left on over the counter. You'd felt his flexed arms straining to keep you from falling as you'd started to squirm, ignoring the phantom fists that had pounded all over your body, ‘Easy, easy, kid.’

‘Vander?’ you'd heard Benzo, appearing behind the front desk with a grease-filled cloth in his hands, ‘I thought you'd already left. Who...?’

‘Deck and a couple of boys were harassing this little girl,’ Vander had explained, leaving you sitting on the stained surface of the counter, his hands gentle but firm on your shoulders to keep you from running away, and you'd winced when you'd heard Benzo mutter your name in surprise.

And then Vander had repeated it, looking at you, and you'd felt too vulnerable.

‘’M not little,' you'd muttered, deflating, crossing your arms over your chest with a stubborn snort, “and I'm fine.”

‘You're certainly not okay,’ Vander had replied, and you'd known his heart had decided to protect you against all odds in the way he'd uttered it, as if rage was consuming him. ‘And it's not the first time this has happened.’

‘Does your mother know about this?’ Benzo had asked you, pulling out a clean rag from under the counter, grabbing one of his bottles of alcohol. You had slid your gaze around the shop instead of answering, knowing that Ekko had to be somewhere, eavesdropping. You hadn't wanted him to see you like this.

‘What do you know about her?’ Vander had asked, setting the pipe down next to the bottle before taking the cloth in his hands and wetting it, making an effort to remain calm as he ran the fabric over your bruised skin, the cool air of his gentle breaths soothing the stinging of the wound slightly.

‘She's Raven's daughter,’ the shop owner had replied, and you had shuddered under the weight of his words.

‘Raven,’ Vander had repeated, and you had raised your eyes at the tone of his voice, far from the lust that used to accompany your mother's name every time someone said it. It held a past, just as it had done with Benzo when you had revealed to him who you were.

‘She was the one who told me to call for you if I needed help,’ you had hastened to add, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Vander's gaze had softened as he listened to you, nodding absently, ‘Of course she told you.’

You'd watched him relax his shoulders, his gaze fogged with memories, as he'd bent down to continue cleaning the cuts on your face, his hand resting on your cheek, his rag a caress on your skin, and you caught every movement, wishing you could replicate the care with which he'd treated you if you ever needed to treat someone's wounds. Then he had instructed you to pull your shirt up a little so he could assess the bruises on your ribs, without touching you at any point, and he had remained respectful even as he moved to place a bandage over the injury to your knee, trying not to tear the starred fishnet stockings you had put on that morning.

‘Your mom's right, you know?’ he had announced, once he had finished, his thumb undoing the dry trails your tears had left on your cheeks. ‘If you're ever in danger, you can come to me.’

His eyes had met yours in the grim glow of the room, the shadows on his face heavy on his skin, and you had flashed a mischievous smile, lighting up your dry lips. The whisper of Vander's name, the hound of the underworld, had roamed the filthy streets of your city like a hungry predator, and even reverberated between the sinful mouths of the prostitutes you had grown up with, but it had never sounded better than when it had left your lips that night. Loud, broken, crying out for help. Reflecting a desperation you felt in every bone, knowing it could save you from a doomed fate.

And no one had pronounced yours better than he had, stopping at every letter, giving it the attention you had never received. He had fixed something deeply flawed in you, proving that you weren't alone in that cursed city. After that night, your mother had never feared for you again. Vander had sworn to protect you, inviting you to the back of his bar when his kids weren't home to teach you how to defend yourself. And the next time someone had threatened to try to assault you, you'd been the first to punch.

It had not been hard, because Vander was a great fighter. And his adopted children had helped him develop the patience necessary to be a good teacher. Throughout your time with him, the whispers of his name had become quieter, dimming his legendary reputation and turning him more cautious. Sevika had told you it had been the riots he had led, the suffering he had seen in the eyes of his children for the consequences he had provoked. Perhaps you did not remember what the city had been before him, but the enforcers' apprehension towards the inhabitants of Zaun was proof enough that the fine line that had once existed between Piltover and the underground had begun to dissipate.

Especially after the unsuccessful incursion that Vi and the rest had pulled off the day before.

You had felt guilty, at first, worry lurking in the shadows as soon as they had failed to show up at the appointed time. And the emptiness in your chest had grown by the minute, uncertainty eating you alive, as you tried to keep your hands busy to avoid conjuring up dire possibilities. Then you had been flooded with relief, seeing them appear, all four seemingly well. And after the tense conversation with Vander, before Vi distracted you with her kisses, you had felt confused, a swirl of uneasiness growing inside you.

Even that morning, when you woke up, you were still restless. You had awakened to the soothing weight of Vi's sleeping body draped over yours, Powder finishing one of her projects in absolute silence in the bed next beside you. It had to be late, though it was hard to tell with the permanent ashen sky over the city, but the day before they had returned so full of adrenaline that they hadn't realised how tired they were until they had collapsed onto their mattresses. It was only natural, after such an intense day, that you had woken up at lunchtime.

You had carefully slipped out from under the covers, leaning on the edge of the bed to do a little stretching for your ankle. You'd been doing it for almost three weeks, but that morning was the first time that rolling your foot backwards hadn't made it stutter in pain, and your heart leapt in your chest at the realisation. It probably had something to do with the fact that you'd spent most of the day sitting, not really moving much, though you hated having to agree with Vander on that one.

Nevertheless, when Vi had proposed spending the afternoon in the abandoned basement you had turned into your meeting place, a couple of streets away from The Last Drop, you couldn't help but ask to join them. And Vi couldn't help but agree, giving in to your pout. With the cane Vander had made for you under one arm, and Claggor providing support under the other, you had walked steadily over the cobblestone streets of the undercity, making your way into the large playroom.

Vi had gone straight to her boxing ground, her body restless with pent-up energy and the need to always be ready to defend you all, and the rest of you had scattered around the room, looking for something to entertain yourselves with. You had let Claggor help you practise fencing footwork, slowly and surely, so as not to lose practice while you were injured. At least until you realised that Powder had taken refuge among the cables and mechanisms of the firing field, and then you hopped up on the counter to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Watching Powder shoot was always a delight, especially after a cocky Mylo didn't hit a single one, and you loved to referee. You had considered shooting as a valid method of defence when your first few weeks of boxing training had left your knuckles raw and too slow to heal, so you weren't bad at it. And although you had never stopped boxing —your name was written next to Vi's on the leaderboard— you had eventually developed a taste for sword fighting. Wooden or bronze swords, of course, because no one really trusted a sixteen-year-old girl with a weapon.

Just as the gun you held in your hands, checking that no one had tampered with its mechanism, had blank ammunition, fun enough to practice with but completely harmless. Thanks to Powder's colourful dyes, the only problem was how long it took for the paint stain to come out if you were shot.

‘Remind me why we bother with this dump,’ uttered Mylo, checking the gun as soon as you handed it back to him while curving your lips into an enigmatic smile, knowing that he was wary of your nimble hands.

‘Vander said to lay low,’ Vi replied, and you looked her way at the sound of her voice, swinging your legs from the table that separated the shooting field from the rest of the room. She was at the other end, in front of the boxing machine you had helped her fix a few years ago, and she paused her punches for a moment to respond, wiping the sweat from her brow with the outside of her forearm. ‘Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any.’

You nodded, forming a gesture of concern, but glanced behind the table to check on Powder. Her blue hair was moving to the rhythm of a tune that played only in her head, giving the finishing touches to the machinery that made the dummies on the shooting field move on simple rails, all of them painted menacingly and fluorescently by her, and you didn't bother to stifle a smile as you realised how quickly she was learning all the tricks you were teaching her.

‘Oh, what's the matter, Mylo?’ you heard Claggor say behind you. ‘You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?’

You glanced quickly towards him, wanting to know his answer, a chuckle slipping quietly from your throat, and you widened your smile as you saw him frown, clearly feeling attacked, ‘Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing.’

‘Suure,’ you muttered, scrunching up your nose playfully, resting your hands on the table and leaning back slightly.

‘It's true!’ he tried to defend himself, pointing his threatening finger at you. But before you could answer him, ready to start one of your teasing wars, Powder leapt to his feet, the cables of the mechanism in her hands.

With a sharp gaze fixed on Mylo, a wolfish grin curving her lips, she connected the ends, the lights going out behind her back once the greenish substance that started the game ran along the connected wires. You raised your hand as soon as she slid past you to stand next to Mylo, and Powder high-fived you enthusiastically, letting out a small giggle as you said, ‘That's my girl!

You turned slightly, watching the different figures glow in the shadows, and narrowed your eyes, focusing on all the targets. You weren't sure if Mylo would be able to hit any of them, but it was going to be difficult. Powder had been fiddling with the setup system so she could increase the difficulty level because she was getting better and better at it. Sometimes she would come to you on the rooftop of The Last Drop, where you usually hung out with your girlfriend, to ask your advice when she reached a point where she didn't know how to proceed. And you would always hold her hand and tell her everything you knew.

You had no idea how fast the game was set that afternoon, but you knew you were going to have a good time. You pulled your legs up onto the counter, crossing them so you could massage your ankle absentmindedly, and you didn't see Mylo getting ready to shoot. The first sound caught you by surprise, startling you, and you saw the pink ball of ammunition pass by the target without even brushing it.

‘You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?’ mumbled Vi, and suddenly all your attention was focused on her, who had finished her boxing session and was taking off her gloves in an exasperated gesture.

‘Are you kidding?’ replied Mylo, his eyes riveted on the fluorescent dolls, and you didn't get to witness him continuing to shoot relentlessly, though you did hear him. ‘Maybe just don't take Powder next time.’

You couldn't even roll your eyes at his words, the satisfied hum of Claggor letting you know that, as you'd hoped, Mylo hadn't hit a single one. You stared at Vi, at the way her chest rose and fell after hitting the hard cushions of the boxing machine for so long, the perspiration covering the edges of her shirt, the unsure gleam in her eyes.

You heard Powder take Mylo's position in front of the firing area, you felt the warmth of her body next to yours as she prepared to shoot, and you heard every breathy sound she let escape between her lips before each bullet, but you didn't need to look at her. She wasn't going to miss. She never did. Mylo provided her with enough motivation not to.

What worried you was that the night before Vi hadn't wanted to tell you how she really felt. She never kept anything from you —you were both open books to each other. But you knew that the conversation she'd had with her father had awakened something in her. Something dormant, of course, because Vi had always felt that fire inside her when it came to protecting her people, but something you couldn't quite put your finger on. And that, added to the certain consequences the explosion had been caused in Piltover, kept you anxious about what the future would bring.

You rested a hand on Powder's shoulder as soon as she finished, a proud smile tugging at your lips as she looked up at you with satisfaction shining in her eyes, and you planted a kiss on her forehead under Mylo's bitter gaze, who had to put up with Claggor's teasing remarks. And as soon as Powder ran to the slot machine leaning against the wall, you jumped down, ignoring the two boys to walk slowly towards your girlfriend.

You rested your arms on the banister that separated the area where the boxing machine was located from the rest of the room, smiling softly at her, and reached out a hand to slide it down her forearm. Her eyes turned gentle under your attention, intertwining her fingers with yours, and you fixed your gaze on the bandages around her wrists and knuckles, trying to fix those spots where they had come loose with your other hand. Vi crouched down beside you to make your job easier, and sighed heavily.

‘We'll talk, right?’ you asked, your tone calm and collected. You weren't accusing her, you simply wanted to know that everything was okay.

But her reply was drowned out by the sound of shattering glass, your eyes widening, and you turned hurriedly as the glass that had held up for so many years shattered into pieces, a man's body slamming through it. He ended up unconscious a few steps away from you, while a group of Enforcers glared at you, analysing you with disdain, from the street. You all stood for a few seconds in complete silence, paralysed, until you heard the low, menacing voice of one of the topside cops announce, ‘Search them’.

It took you a heartbeat to cross the room, as fast as your ankle would allow, and position yourself in front of Powder with one hand resting on her arm. They advanced slowly, the glass cracking under their boots, while you raised your hands. They had nothing on your friends, it was impossible. They were simply making a routine round, asking easy questions, in case anyone knew anything about the explosion at Piltover. If you lied, calmly resisting their provocations, they would be gone in no time, and you could go home.

‘Go ahead, idiots,’ said Mylo, looking up and down at the Enforcer in front of him. ‘We got nothing.’

And then it all happened too fast. You didn't see Vi gesture to Claggor, but you knew it was she who had instructed him to pull the lever. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness, the fluorescent colours glowing from the shooting range dummies and the monkey doodle Powder had designed years ago and painted in the floor the only illumination, and Powder grabbed your hand to help you slide over the counter, both of you fleeing between the dummies.

You had no idea if the others were following you, to look back being too risky, just that you did your best to grind your teeth every time you stepped on your run and your ankle twitched to the side that hurt the most. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt a hand on your spine, and you stifled a scream, but Powder let go of your hand, sprinting towards the back door, and you let yourself be caught in his arms when you realised it was Claggor at your back.

Mylo was on the other side, running after Powder to get outside, and as you looked back you saw Vi close the door behind her and block it with your cane. You threw your arms around Claggor's shoulders to make yourself as small as possible, easying the task of running with you down the alley, and you all followed Vi, trusting that she would know which way to disappear. But then she stopped dead in her tracks, the suddenness of it causing you to fall to the ground, when she saw two Enforcers attacking a citizen. They stopped too, looking at you, and you felt Mylo's hands on your shoulders, helping you to your feet, as they ran to you. You saw the panic in Vi's eyes as you made eye contact with her.

You had screwed up. Big time.

The silence of the street was interrupted by your quickened breaths, but also by a loud whistling sound that drew your attention upwards. An old metal ladder creaked towards you as you heard Ekko mutter an ‘Over here!’ and you only had time to process his presence when Vi grabbed your hips and propelled you upwards. You clung on as best you could, scrambling upwards, grabbing Ekko's hand to pull yourself onto the wooden bridge that spanned between two houses, and stood beside him to help pull the rest up.

Mylo grabbed your arm, jumping to your side and pulling Ekko by the shoulders to run away, Claggor following soon after. Your heart stopped when you saw one of the Enforcers trying to climb after Powder, and you grabbed Vi at full speed so the kid could get to safety.

You paused for a moment once Vi had broken the ladder, preventing them from following you, taking a deep breath in the great pipes that connected Zaun's poorer neighbourhoods, and you held on to the wall, limping, as Powder walked alongside his sister. They had been discovered. The Piltover police now knew that it was four children from the undercity who had allegedly caused the explosion, and they were not going to stop until they had them punished. You had to tell Vander, and that was perhaps what scared you the most.

If an adult had to know about it, things's were getting way too serious.

The Last Drop was usually packed on any given weeknight, the music playing muffled under the constant murmur of conversation, and Vander always behind the bar, serving beer to all his customers. That night there were many more people, but the walls of the bar wailed in the silence that permeated the atmosphere, broken only by the cold voice of Sevika, who seemed to be holding back her temper.

‘We should hit them back,’ she said, leaving a loud thump on the wooden table. ‘We've got the numbers to beat them.’

Before her words, many of the attendees at the impromptu meeting Vander had organised murmured their approval, ‘Yeah! Let's teach them what it means to mess with us!’

You, leaning in the shadows, always relegated to the sidelines with the rest of the kids, listened with your heart in your mouth, knowing that the tension in the air went far beyond the occasional dispute that Vander had to resolve. Youall had confessed everything that had happened as soon as you arrived at the place, Vander's eyes shadowed by what you said, and he had no choice but to announce it to the rest of the Lanes' inhabitants.

Now he was leaning against the counter, on the wrong side of it, and Benzo was standing next to him, folding his arms, as serious as the bar owner. He pulled a match from his pocket, as you had seen him do countless times since you had met him, and lit his pipe calmly, creating anticipation among those around him.

‘You sure that's what you want?’ he asked, the smoke spiralling through the air, knowing what answer he was going to get. ‘We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended.’

It had been a long time ago, when the streets had whispered his name in awe. Your mother had ended up telling you the story.

‘You're just protecting your kids,’ protested a man you didn't know, frowning. And it hurt you to hear it, because you knew it was partly true.

‘I'm protecting our people,’ he replied, quickly, stoking his pipe as if he meant to attack someone. ‘I'd do the same for any of you,’ he continued, looking around at the rest of those present. ‘We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over, we just need to stand together’.

‘The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground,’ Sevika interjected, anger trembling in her voice, ’would not be afraid to fight.’

Vander took two steps towards her, standing face to face, ‘Do I look afraid?’

‘No,’ she replied, calm but menacing, ‘you look weak.’

Without waiting for an answer, she whistled, the sound attracting the attention of her people, and turned around, her coat floating behind her, some of those beside her following her outside. You sighed, knowing that Sevika was the only one who could dare stand up to Vander, and crossed your arms, leaning against the back wall. The conversation would die once she was no longer willing to fuel it.

‘Why isn't he doing anything?’ muttered Claggor, looking almost apologetic.

‘We kicked the Enforcers‘ butts with just the four of us,’ Powder replied, angrily, her scowl making her look even more adorable than usual. ‘Imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do.’

‘Jeez, even Powder wants to fight,’ exclaimed Mylo, opening the door leading down into the hall.

‘So why aren't we?’ protested Vi, exasperated.

You remained silent, as did Ekko, leaning against your arm, and sighed again. Claggor followed Mylo once he went downstairs to lie on the couch. You put your arm around Ekko's shoulders, caressing his hair, and noticed how unusually quiet he had been. Vi also noticed, raising an eyebrow in his direction, ‘Spill it Ekko’.

‘Huh, oh, okay,’ he stammered, and it made you frown. You knew Ekko was an expert at finding out secrets, but often conversations between adults made little sense to you. It was rare that he had any information about Piltover at all. ‘Well, um, Vander's got a deal with the Enforcers.’

‘What deal?’ you asked, exchanging a glance with Vi.

But Ekko shrugged.

You sighed a third time, drawing a smile from both of them, and ended up laughing too, covering your mouth with one hand. It was wrong to look so happy when something so serious had just happened just a few feet away, but it was also a way of dealing with it. Your heart was pounding as if you were on the edge of a cliff, on the verge of an event that could turn out to be catastrophic, but you just wanted a moment of peace.

You pulled your pocket watch out of your waistcoat as Ekko walked past you to meet Powder downstairs, and checked the time. You knew that if no client showed up unannounced, your mother would have a free moment in a few minutes. You hadn't been in the brothel for almost three days, so it could be a good time to stop by and stay for a bit.

You looked at Vi, deciding what to do next.

‘I might sleep over at my Mom's tonight,’ you commented, pouting.

She nodded, taking your hands in hers, ‘We'll be fine.’

‘I know,’ you replied, moving closer to her and leaving a fleeting kiss on her lips. ‘They're always safe with you.’

She kissed you back in the shadows, burying her bandaged hand in your hair, and stifled an annoyed huff when she had to pull away from you. She leaned her forehead against yours, biting her lip, and then let you go, disappearing up the stairs. They could do with a rest, you knew. Better a quiet night, and face the problems the next day.

You walked through the streets of Zaun, hair hastily pulled back in a bun, but at a slow pace, when you left the bar. You tried to rotate your ankle every few steps, grimacing when it hurt but determined to make the effort to walk without limping. When you reached the entrance to The Gilded Lily you dodged some drunken clients, sneaking up the stairs until you reached your mother's room. You kept your ear to the door, listening for any sound that might indicate you couldn't stay there.

When only your mother's sweet voice sounded, humming a made-up melody, and you knew she was alone, you tapped the surface of the door twice before stepping inside. Your mother's gaze lit up as she recognised you, rising from her vanity chair to hug you, ‘Hi, baby!’

‘Hi, Mom,’ you smiled back, taking refuge in her arms.

‘Did you come to get those pieces you left behind last week?’ she asked, after kissing your cheek and sitting back down, taking the lipstick stick between her slender fingers.

‘What pieces?’ you asked, and frowned as you followed the direction she pointed as she continued to prepare herself, wiggling her fingers absently.

Your mother's wardrobe. Raven was one of the prostitutes who got the most clients —the one who made Madam win more money among her girls— and that had earned her some privileges at the brothel. In addition to being able to raise you, to allow you to grow up in her room and not have anyone complain when they had to take care of you, she was also allowed to have the only room with a built-in wardrobe in the building, apart from the owner's. When you were little, you used to hide there quite often. Since you couldn't fit anymore, you only kept your clothes and a big box with projects you were working on.

But you didn't remember leaving any behind the last time you spent the night there.

You opened the heavy doors, and it felt like getting another hug from your mother. All the clothes she had stuffed in there, with exotic silk kimonos, long linen dresses and velvety nightgowns, smelled like the cheap fruity cologne you had once gotten her on the black market in town, and then kept getting because she had loved it. You smiled when you saw the chaos of fabrics jumbled among all the shelves, and bent down to open the drawer where you kept your things.

Inside was a jumble of metal, tools, multiple loose papers with drafts of diagrams and a complex mechanism wrapped in a rag. Your eyes widened in surprise when you remembered that you had indeed left the invention hidden there, and you pulled it out at full speed, sitting cross-legged on the floor and checking what you had left to do the last time. You didn't notice the way your mother was looking at you through the mirror, admiring the way you were working, so focused on the gears in your hands.

You didn't even notice the clock hand ticking, too focused on the artefact you had designed a few months ago, changing parts you thought you had misplaced, modifying data in the designs you had spread out on the floor. You became again the child you had once been, hiding in your mother's wardrobe with heavy headphones that isolated any noise from the outside, oblivious to reality. Since you had met Vander's children, you had kept most of your gadgets in the workshop they had let you keep in their house, but going back to work on the floor of your mother's room felt like coming home.

You remained in that state of abstraction until you felt your mother's lips pressed against your temple in a warm kiss.

‘Imma go downstairs, baby,’ she said, and you just nodded.

She was going to have a quiet night, then. Whenever Raven appeared downstairs it was always to relax and flirt with curious first or second-time visitors to The Gilded Lily, too shy to wander into one of the upstairs rooms. You were glad. As your mother got older she didn't lose beauty, let alone charm, but she got much more tired. She deserved more time to rest.

You remained working on the small portable radio until your back began to complain, and you had to get up to stretch a little.

And then you heard it. A soft, stifled sound coming from the window. You frowned, leaving the device on the cloth it had been wrapped in, and walked across the room. Of the two panes of glazed glass that served as shutters, one could not be opened because you had nailed it against the frame years ago, so that you could place a made up air-purifier box on that side of the sill and allow your mother to get cleaner air from outside.

As you opened the other, however, and looked down, you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend's pink hair camouflaged under her hood, ready to throw another pebble to get your attention. You smiled at the sight of her, motioned for her to wait there, and crossed the carpet as quickly as you could. You paused for a moment as you reached the door, and retraced your steps to pick up the almost finished radio and tuck it into one of the pockets of your cargo trousers, but you headed back out into the hallway, descending the stairs of the brothel by sliding down the banister, as you had done so often when you were younger.

As soon as you stepped onto the street you walked the few metres between the entrance and the alley around the corner, and walked towards Vi with a smile tugging at your lips. She had been leaning against the wall, her hands in the pockets of her slacks, but she pulled them out to wrap them around your hips as soon as she had you close enough.

‘You couldn't wait until tomorrow to see me, couldn't you, pretty girl?’ you asked, grinning against her lips.

‘I wanted to see you before I went to sleep,’ she whispered, her gaze downcast, her fingers playing with your belt buckles.

‘Hey, did something happen?’ you asked, worry swirling in your chest, sliding your hands up to cup her cheeks, your thumbs caressing her freckled skin.

‘The enforcers came,’ she replied, her muffled voice sending shivers down your spine.

‘My God,’ your hands tightened against her face, and you frowned. ‘Are you all okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah, nothing bad happened,’ she said, trying to reassure you. ‘Vander managed to warn us in time for us to hide.’

But her explanation failed to calm you in the slightest. Vi looked pale, almost sickly, as if whatever had happened had scared her to death. You felt the nervous twitch of her fingers at the waistband of your trousers, fiddling with the fabric almost anxiously, and a void opened ravenously in your throat. You didn't like seeing her like that. It was unnatural, not being able to enjoy her jokes and her teasing remarks, that the gleam in her eyes didn't greet you when you looked at her, and that her stiff shoulders seemed to slump under the weight of a responsibility that wasn't hers.

‘Listen,’ you began, trying to make eye contact with her, ’we'll be alright, okay?’

‘I know, I promised,’ she replied, leaning against the touch of your palm.

‘I already know we'll be alright,’ you added, stubbornly. ‘What I mean is, it'll all pass. We'll go on with our lives as before, because the enforcers will get tired of looking around, and we'll hide great, yeah? I can promise you that.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Uh-huh,’ you nodded, memorising every detail of her face. ‘I'll find a place to hide Powder, and I'll help her practise to make her little bombs work. I'll show her what I do to make my inventions work. And I'll tie Mylo to a chair so he doesn't screw up anything. I wouldn't worry so much about Claggor. And you can come to the roof of the Lily, and do some boxing with me. We'll steal food from Madam.’

‘Wow, you've got it all figured out, huh?’ she finally smiled, sighing.

‘You know I'll always want you to have the option of stepping back when it all gets too much,’ you whispered to her.

‘I know,’ he replied, leaning her forehead against yours. ‘I'm glad I have you. I'm glad Powder has you.’

‘Don't be silly, I'll never leave you’ you replied, shaking your head slightly, your eyes closed. ‘Besides, Powder has you, she doesn't really need me.’

‘Pow-Pow's my little sister,’ she explained, her breath brushing against your skin, ‘she needs the other girl in the group so she can have some time away from me. She adores you, I'm glad she has that.’

‘Well, I know for a fact she looks up to you a lot, so...’ you replied, sliding your head down to rest on her shoulder, remaining hugged against the brothel wall. ‘She still needs you. She will always need you.’

Silence swirled around you, and you felt a soft hum exhaled between Vi's lips.

‘Besides, I'm working on a radio that will allow us to spy on the enforcers,’ you announced, leaning in.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you confirmed, pulling it out of your pocket. It was a small metal box, which fit in your hand. ‘Wait until I press the button and say something nice.’

You connected the two loose wires, and the radio started up with a soft buzz. You frowned as you tried to remember which was the button that recorded and which was the one that played back, and finally pressed the one you had painted blue. Both were buttons you had taken from your mother's old clothes, and Vi smiled as she realised. You nudged her arm to get her to start talking.

‘I love you, cupcake,’ she whispered, and you covered your mouth with your hand so she wouldn't see you blush. ‘You'll always be my girl.’

You stopped recording, shaking your head, but didn't say a word, pressing the second button. Vi's voice echoed between you, somewhat canned, repeating word for word what she had just said. When you looked up, Vi already had her eyes on you, delighted.

‘This is awesome, cupcake,’ she murmured, her voice watery.

‘Oh, don't be like that,’ you reproached, checking the device. ‘It still needs improvement.’

‘You're a genius,’ she attacked again, sliding her hands up and down your back.

You put the radio back in your pocket, embarrassed.

‘You could add it to the mechanical crow you have at home,’ she proposed, clinging to you, ‘so you could spy even more closely, and no one would notice.’’

You opened your eyes wide in amazement, and patted her on the shoulder, ‘That is genius!’

Her giggles echoed through the alley, and you swooned against her body, ‘I need to write that down as soon as possible,’ you said, dead serious, ‘I'll stop by The Last Drop tomorrow to see if it would be possible to implement the radio into the design I have done.

‘I love you, cupcake,’ she repeated, and you grabbed her by the the collar of her sleeveless hoodie, bringing your lips together in a kiss.

‘I love you too, pretty girl,’ you replied, pulling away from her. And then you added, a little louder, just to tease, ‘I love youu, Violet!’

You kissed her goodbye with another peck, resting your hand on the wall behind her head, and let her lips move over yours, hungrily, for a few more minutes. But when Vi moved her leg between yours, her mouth sliding down your neck, and your heart began to pound in your throat, you decided to stop once more.

‘You should go get some rest, Vi, baby,’ you whispered, your breath hitching.

‘I love you,’ she whispered again, and you melted against her, ’I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘I love you too, my love,’ you sighed, as she parted her lips from your skin, ’but it's getting late.’

You felt her hand slide down your abdomen, up to your chest, and you held your breath. But she simply pulled your pocket watch out of its pocket, glancing at the time. Her shoulders tensed again, leaving the watch in your hand, and she murmured a soft, ‘Yeah, it's pretty late.’

‘See you tomorrow,’ you whispered, taking a step back.

She made an affirmative noise, peeling away from the wall, and you turned to head back to the brothel. With your girlfriend's voice stored in your radio, you climbed the stairs, adrenaline coursing through your system, barely aware of the pain in your ankle, and dropped to the floor as soon as you reached your mother's room, picking up a blank sheet of paper to begin designing a new model of your robot.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that your heart began to race again, when Raven came in quietly, and you were startled by her stealth.

‘What did you go out for?’ she asked you, taking off her black lace jacket.

‘Oh, Vi came to see me,’ you replied, pausing your pencil over the paper. Your mother knew who she was and what relationship you had, you weren't worried about what she could say.

‘That's weird,’ she uttered, your heartbeat quickening in your mouth, ‘she usually never comes. I thought something bad had happened.’

And then your heart stopped for a moment. Something bad had happened. The enforcers had discovered them. But Vi's gaze had remained opaque the whole time she'd been with you, and though it had seemed to you that she was still frightened by what had happened, perhaps you'd misinterpreted it. You knew those grey eyes better than you knew yourself. She had been scared about what was going to happen.

‘Do you think she would do something foolish to protect her family?’ you asked your mother.

‘Oh, baby,’ she murmured, a drop of sadness spilling over her face, ’she'd do anything to make sure you're okay, just like you would for her.’

You closed your eyes for a moment, frowning, angry that you hadn't noticed sooner.

When you opened them, you stood up and walked out of The Gilded Lily, determined to find Vi.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky

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separatetheyolk · 4 months ago

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hey so i kinda stalked your account after ur intro stumbled onto my feed....if you're taking requests right now could you write something for one of the papaya boys with trans!driver!reader? I'm not picky in terms of plot <33

also i lovelovelove your writing

Feel Better In Your Skin | Lando Norris X Trans!Driver!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz (platonic )

ʚɞ it’s winter break, you’ve just gotten your top surgery and it’s up to Lando to take care of you

ʚɞ I got you!! I’m glad you’re liking my writing so far aha I’ve written on different platforms like ao3 before but I found that wasn’t really tailored to “__ x readers” as well as “__ x __” so here I am.

I read the ask wrong at first lol and started writing trans Lando so ended up having to change that all half way through. I wasn’t sure if you were wanting more focus for like paddock stuff so if you do just lmk I’d be happy to write another with more focus on that or just a part 2 to this one

Anyway hope you enjoy this one too!

ʚɞ warnings: mentions of dried blood and incisions obviously, very brief mention high from pain meds, surgery mentioned obvs, y/n used, not proofread

ʚɞ wordcount: 2.4K

ʚɞ requests are open!

Lando heard you groan as he helped the you into bed. Carefully lying you down, setting a pregnancy pillow under you arms and tucked you in. “Arms in or out, baby?” He asked softly, hand running through your hair, brushing it away from your forehead.

You couldn’t stop the whine that slipped past chapped lips. Still a smidge high on the pain killers they’d given before you’d been discharged from your double mastectomy. “Messin’ up my hair..” you grumbled, pout set on your face. “Out please.” You answered Lando after a moment of realisation that he’d asked you a question.

Nodding softly with a small chuckle, he set the blanket under your arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything you need, handsome?” The man spoke, moving to carefully sit beside you on his empty side of the bed. Lando would be taking the sofa in the main room of your B&B while you slept, not wanting to hurt his boyfriend anymore than he’d already been. You had tried to insist the day before surgery that you’d take it. He insisted that you rest in a comfortable setting.

You hummed slightly when you felt a soft hand rest on your cheek, turning into the palm and closed your eyes. Heat warming the skin that had been nipped by a winter breeze. Having traveled from Monaco back to the UK for your surgery. Lando knew you’d had you heart set on a particular surgeon since you were eighteen. And now, at twenty three he’d managed pay to get you surgery putting you on his last ever waiting list just before the surgeon was to go into retirement. He’d given you the news as a birthday present. Of which you were immensely grateful for.

He hadn’t been too keen on the idea of flying back with you after quite an invasive surgery. But he knew this was your body. You’d have to live with the scars. And Lando wanted nothing more than for you to feel confident. For once in your life feel confident in who you were. In your skin. Wear clothes you wanted to wear when you wanted them. Not in accordance of whether it hid your binder or not. Not have to worry about cameras getting side on shots of your body, chest visible unable to bind while racing.

“Hurts..” Lando heard you speak, clearly wanting more for the pain. Snapping him from the immense surge of proudness that welled in his chest. You watched your boyfriend carefully. How he pulled out his phone, how a frown settled on his oh so perfect face, how he sighed. That sigh really didn’t sound good.

“I’m sorry baby..” he spoke softly, adjusting a few pillows behind you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t give you any ibuprofen just yet.. gotta wait another hour first. Okay?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. With a smile, Lando rose from the bed, fixing the covers and set the remote for the TV into your hand. “Put on whatever you’d like, my love. I’m gonna order us some food.”

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, 206k others

yourusername

Left with less of myself but felt more complete.

Thank you baby. Thank you for coming with me, supporting me and taking care of me. I love you so much <3

And thank you for the icecream

Tagged: @/landonorris

Comments

landonorris I love you too baby. So proud of you <3

user1 STOP IT THIS IS ACTUALLY ADORABLE

user2 GOING TO SCREAM

oscarpiastri So proud of you mate!

user3 “left with less of myself but felt more complete” IM GOING TO SOB

mercedesamgf1 Looking forward to working with you this season! Wishing you a speedy recovery!

———————————

“Oh my god this fucking sucks” you groaned out, eyes screwed shut. It felt like the drains were cutting into your sides. They hurt more than the fucking incisions stretched across your chest.

“I know baby..” Lando frowned softly, moving to sit beside you again and pressed a kiss to your temple. He didn’t really know. Not truly. He knew that. He didn’t know how the pain was, he just knew you were in pain. And if he could do something about that, he would. “Not long now though.. hopefully get them out tomorrow.”

The two of you were cutting it fine in regards to the 2025 season. You were both due at Bahrain for the three days of pre-season testing (although you weren’t exactly excited about their twisted laws for LGBT individuals). Due there the 25th of February, testing starting the 26th and finishing on the 28th. At that point you would be four and a half weeks healed. You’d practically have to beg the surgeon tomorrow to give you a letter saying you could take part.

Then, a two week break. Season opening in Australia on the 16th March. At which you’d be six and a half weeks. In theory, fully healed. But it could take anywhere from 6-8.

“What you thinkin’ about, love?” Lando looked to you, arm wrapping carefully around your shoulders.

“Who said I was thinking about anything?” You shot back with a smile, meeting his gaze and carefully placed your head to his shoulder.

“You were sticking your tongue out.”

“Traitor..” you muttered to it.

———————————

You were sat in the surgeons office the next day, leg bouncing against the floor, hand holding onto the inside of Lando’s thigh for comfort. Your head was spinning. You were drowning. Drowning in endless possibilities and all bad. What if you didn’t like it? What if you decided you preferred yourself before? What if you weren’t really trans? What if you’d picked the wrong surgeon and ultimately it looked awful? What if your nipples had fallen off? What if-

“Y/n, breathe..” Lando spoke softly, one hand moving to rest on top of yours that was holding his thigh and the other moving to rub your own. “You’re panicking, love.”

You turned to face him caught like a deer in headlights. Your tongue fell flat in your mouth as your mind scrambled to find words. Piece together some remnants of a sentence. Lando didn’t rush you, didn’t disrespect you, didn’t roll his eyes or get angry. Instead, he let you take your time. Let you organise your mind. Removing your hand from his thigh just for a moment to place a kiss to the back of it before letting you set it back down wherever you chose. You decided to just leave it in the same spot.

Eventually, you spoke up. “What if I regret it..” you whispered, voice cracking slightly.

You watched as Lando opened his mouth to speak. Cut off by the surgeon that entered. “Right! Let’s get this show on the road.” The man spoke, heading to the chair in the middle of the room. “Come sit on this chair for me.”

You didn’t move at first, watching as he went to wash his hands. Only as the surgeon started to slip his gloves on did you stand, Lando helping you to undo the buttons on your shirt and slipped it from your back. Leaving you looking to a bare stomach and bandaged chest.

With hesitant feet, you silently moved to the chair, sitting on it with your eyes fixed to Lando. Refusing to look to your chest or the mirror in the corner of the room as the surgeon got to work unraveling bandages.

You caught glimpses of dried blood as he began to pull gauze away, swallowing thickly as he removed the ones covering your nipples only to find that they weren’t on the fabric. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, shoulders relaxing some.

Then came the drains. They weren’t so bad, a slight nip to begin with as the surgeon pulled out stitches holding them in place. But other than that it just felt weird. Like how you’d imagine sucking a noodle through a lip piercing would feel like when a video came up on your for you page once. You’d quickly blocked that user for the sake of your own sanity. Not malicious intent, it just freaked you out and you did not want to risk them coming back onto your fyp again.

“Alright, we’re all done.” The man spoke, stepping back to take a look at his work. Your own eyes gaze still fixed to Lando. “I’ll leave you two alone to look. But it all looks good and healthy to me.” You heard the snap of gloves coming off, the squeak and then clatter of a bin opening and closing. The surgeon walking into your view to leave the room.

Lando frowned when you didn’t turn to look. Standing, he moved to lock the door, then made his way to you. Crouching beside you. “You look gorgeous, baby..” Lando whispered as he took your hand and held it to his own cheek pressing a kiss to the palm of it. “Do you want a photo of it first, babe?” He asked softly, seemingly able to read you like an open book as you nodded slowly.

As Lando stood, he set your hand back into your lap. He stopped the recording, taking a few steps back at the front of the chair and took a photo. After making sure it wasn’t blurry, he headed back to you reassuming his crouched position and turned the screen to you. “Here..”

With both hands, you carefully took the device. Eyes scanning the photo meticulously looking for any mistakes. Any dog ears, any infections, anything that didn’t look like it should be there. But instead all you found was some light bruising and scabs along your incisions. All perfectly normal. All.. perfect.

“You want to look in the mirror?” He asked softly, watching you nod. With a smile, Lando helped you to stand so you wouldn’t stretch the incisions. Hanging back as you moved to the mirror. Setting the phone up where you’d just sat to continue recording.

Like the photo, your eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror. Left to right, down, right to left, down, left to right. Finding nothing again. You felt emotions bubbling in your chest, but it was when you turned to the side that your works burst. You were flat. A bit swollen and bruised. But you were flat. Holy shit.

You looked to Lando in the mirror. The man holding the biggest grin he could and you were sure he didn’t even realise it. Slowly, you turned to him as a sob was pulled from your throat, moving to hide in your boyfriend’s shoulder while he wrapped his arms around you. The feeling of his arms wrapped against your bare skin, his chest flush against yours without anything in the way caused you to cry harder. Legs weak and shaky but you remained standing.

Lando had a feeling he’d be getting a lot more hugs from you.

After the surgeon showed both you and Lando how to properly tape the sutures and cover your nipples, he gave you scar cream and you were under strict instructions to keep your chest dry. Only rinse after the testing sessions to get rid of any sweat and pat dry with paper towels. He then handed you a letter which you’d take a photo of and send to Toto when you got home. Basically stating you had the all clear.

The drive home was a slow one. Purposefully. After a week in bed you wanted to get outside. So, despite not having showered in a week that was exactly what the two of you done. You broke your strict diet, had Tim Hortons, coffee, a donut and just drove around town taking the long route back to the air B&B.

Once back, Lando ran you a bath, helping you inside and began to was you carefully. You made sure to keep the waterline below your surgery. Letting Lando press kisses to your face, head, shoulder, neck, hands. Wherever he could. Making sure you knew he loved you. He was here. He wasn’t leaving. He wanted to help. Then came the difficult part, washing your hair. Lando helped you to dry off and change first into some comfortable joggers and one of his button ups. Then, wrapped a towel around your neck and over your shoulders. You crouched down, head over the edge of the tub as Lando started the shower. Making sure the water was at the right temperature before beginning to wash away the grease and grime of the past week. Chuckling as you melted into his hand.

Once your hair was adequately soaked, he turned the shower off, let the head fall into the bath and grabbed the shampoo. He lathered, rinsed, then done the same with conditioner. He then squeezed some of the water out your hair before you sat up, drying it for you and chuckled when he pulled the towel away. Hair sticking up every which way. “My handsome man..” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips which you happily accepted. Hand dropping to his waist.

———————————

mercedesamgf1

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and 127k others

mercedesamgf1

The 2025 season is officially underway!

Y/N and George at day 1 of pre-season testing

Tagged: @/yourusername @/georgerussell

Comments

user1 y/n’s hands 🤤🤤

user2 You guys always have to ruin it huh?

landonorris no touchy

yourusername down boy

yourusername good to be back! So excited to work with you guys this season!

You turned to the door when it opened, smiling wide when you saw Lando poke his head round it. “There you are!” The man grinned, stepping inside. Pausing when he spotted, well, nothing. Just a flat chest under that black jumpsuit.

You smiled wide. “Here I am.” You spoke walking over to him. Turning in a circle as you went. “You like?”

“Oh baby I love..” the other whispered, blushing when a kiss was pressed to his cheek. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he nuzzled into your neck. Now your turn to hold him. And you certainly wouldn’t complain. “Love you..” you heard a mutter into your shoulder.

You smiled back, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder with a “Love you most..”

———————————

Bonus - Boys on the beach

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 204k others

yourusername

beach days with my boys

Tagged: @/landonorris @/oscarpiastri @/charles_leclerc @/carlossainz55

Comments

user1 not Charles having a better photo then his own boyfriend

yourusername “if you’re gonna post a photo of me it could be a good one at least”

carlossainz55 alright that’s just mean now

charles_leclerc We aren’t your boys

landonorris yes we are

oscarpiastri Yes we are

yourusername yes you are

ʚɞ I don’t know how to do endiiiiings. sorry if the second half’s a little rushed. Half of it got deleted since my tumblr crashed and I hadn’t saved so had to retype it all. This took way longer than I thought it would. Enjoy!!

WHY DIDNT ANYONE TELL ME I SAID MCLARENAMGF1 AND NOT MERCEDES THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR FIVE HOURS IN GOING TO SCREAM

I’m in McLaren brain rot rn

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galactichoneybee92 · 4 months ago

Text

Helluva Boss Season 3 Predictions

So now that I've spent the past week or so recovering from Sinsmas, I'd like to take some time to think about what's coming in the next season. Strap in: This post got WAY longer than anticipated. Spoiler warning for absolutely everything.

We are going to have ample time to concoct theories since Vivzie already confirmed that there will be a considerable wait for the new season. However, she did also confirm that we will be getting more shorts to hold us over and also that the extended wait time is in order to facilitate a more regular update schedule once season 3 premiers. We haven't gotten any further information on what that schedule might look like but I'm hoping for weekly releases instead of monthly so, you know, fingers crossed.

While season 2 was incredibly heavy on the Stolitz arc, Vivzie has stated that season 3 will be more focused on exploring some of the other characters. I'm sure Stolitz isn't going to disappear and that some of the episodes will still be focused on the progression of their relationship (I've seen some people saying that the Stolitz arc is over and like...respectfully...no? They're not even officially together? They have so much ground left to cover) but it would be nice to flesh out the rest of the characters in this universe.

One of the big plot points will of course be Millie's pregnancy. Now let me just say now, I'm already so incredibly sick of the "Millie cheated" theory. As if that's the only reason that a woman could be nervous about an unplanned pregnancy. Be so fucking for real. As for how I think they'll handle it, I think there could be some interesting juxtaposition happening between Stolas losing his child and the M&Ms gaining theirs. Millie is clearly very anxious about the pregnancy and I would personally love if there was an episode devoted to her trying to find ways to talk to Moxxie or Blitz about it but never quite finding the words, and in the end it winds up being Stolas who is able to help her. Out of all of IMP, he's the only one who has not only raised a baby, but did so while he was very young and probably very apprehensive about it. For all that he loves his daughter, Octavia was very much conceived out of obligation rather than either he or Stella feeling ready to bring a child into the world and I just think that it could be a good bonding moment for the two of them.

Right now IMP very much feels like the gang + Stolas, and I desperately need there to be more time devoted to Stolas getting to know the rest of IMP better. I think bonding with Millie could be an excellent first step (Step 2: Him and Moxxie bond over musical theater. Millie and Blitz are always trying to pawn Moxxie off on each other when it comes to watching musicals with him and I think it would be really great if he could have a musical theater bestie who actually enjoys them. And lets be real- There's no way you can watch Stolas's entire little musical production in Mastermind and come out thinking that that dramatic little fuck wouldn't love a good musical)

Speaking of Octavia, I would love to explore her character more. I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on her that I will probably explore in another post but while she does frustrate me, I do love her. Additionally, I'm very interested in what Stella and Andrealphus have planned now. They succeeded in getting Stolas out of the picture, his titles have passed to Andrealphus until Octavia is of age, but that has to be soon, right? Octavia was 17 in season 1 and while I'm not sure how much time has passed she has to be coming up on 18. 18 was the age that Loona was going to age out of the foster system so it's apparently the age of majority in Hell, the same as on Earth, so that would be the age that she would inherit her father's titles and estate. What are their plans for her then?

I think it's very possible that they will continue with their plan to have Stolas killed now that they no longer need him. Would they go as far as to try and kill Octavia too? What would happen if they did? What is the line of succession? Octavia clearly doesn't have any children so would Andrealphus get to keep everything?

Stolas and Stella were engaged as children, but so far we haven't seen anything about an arranged marriage for Octavia. If Stolas had to marry in order to secure a "precautionary heir", wouldn't Octavia need to do the same now that she has inherited everything? I wonder if we will get either a birthday episode (Octavia dealing with having her 18th birthday without her father- Stolas dealing with missing his daughter's 18th birthday) or an arranged marriage plotline (Maybe Stella announces her daughter's engagement on her 18th birthday?)

This next theory is really out there but bear with me here and remember that they're strongly based on European royalty: What if Andrealphus tries to marry Octavia to secure the title for him and his sister.

Overall, I think an arranged marriage arc could really do a lot for Octavia's character in regard to her perspective on Stolas. Right now she only really views Stolas as her father, not as person in his own right, independent of his relationship to her. She only sees the ways in which he's failed her and not any of his own personal struggles. Furthermore, she had the quote from Sinsmas, 'You don't love mother and you don't love me- You love him." Which seems to imply that she thought her parents loved each other??? Stolas has mentioned on several occasions that he did his best to give her a normal life and I wonder if that included hiding the fact that he and Stella hated each other. It leads me to believe that maybe she thinks that they were happily in love until he met Blitz and then that was the catalyst for their marriage falling apart instead of their marriage having always been rotten at the core.

But what does that have to do with Octavia having an arranged marriage? Well I could see Octavia being very against it and Stella saying something like "Oh please, I had an arranged marriage when I was your age" and Octavia discovering the truth of the matter. She expressed surprise that her parents didn't marry for love and then Stella is like "Me? Love Stolas? Don't be ridiculous."

I mean naturally the wedding never happens- Stolas and IMP are able to interfere and save her from going through with it and maybe in the process repair her relationship with Stolas. Maybe they could steal her away and if she's staying with them she might be able to see all of the ways in which Blitz isn't some evil father-stealer like she's imagined him being. It sets it up for her to see them being soft with each other and maybe compare it to her memories of her parents and how they were never affectionate like that. Maybe Stolas will do something dorky that Stella would usually mock him for but instead Blitz will just roll his eyes and think it's cute and they might laugh about it together. And then Blitz would definitely make her smiley face pancakes in the morning (because he's nothing if not a girl-dad) and I could definitely see him remembering that one time in Sinsmas that Stolas mentioned that rats were Octavia's favorite snack and being sure to hunt some down for her.

Other unrelated small things I would like to see:

Blitz gets Stolas a little plant for the apartment.

Blitz gets some glow in the dark stars for the ceiling.

I'd love to explore Loona's character some more. How old was she when she went into foster care? Why was she there? Was she surrendered as a baby? Was she taken by whatever passes as CPS in Hell? Did she have any other foster families before Blitz? Why didn't they work out? Was she returned for behavioral issues or something? What's the story there? We got a little bit in Seeing Stars but not nearly enough and I would love to flesh out her backstory.

What about Loona's love life? She clearly had a crush on Vortex in season 1 and was disappointed to find out that not only did he already have a girlfriend but that that girlfriend was Bee- one of the seven deadly sins. Not someone she could compete with. Now me personally? I think that Bee has 2 hands and is the god of gluttony- she could definitely handle a 3-way polyamorous relationship. But that's just me. I don't actually have any sort of canon evidence to back that theory up, it's just more like a fun head canon: Let Loona Have a Boyfriend AND a Girlfriend 2025. (But if they introduce a new love interest for her? That's fine too. I just want my girl to be happy)

Finally, there has to be more about Barbie in season 3. Now I'm not super in love with her character like some of y'all are (This fandom has the unique ability to see a character with 30 seconds of screen time and LATCH ON like no one's business. See: Vasago) but she's an important part of Blitz's past. I think that a Barbie episode could be a good opportunity for Stolas (And Millie? And Moxxie? And Loona even? How much does IMP even know about Blitz's past???) to learn more about Blitz's past and trauma while also fleshing Barbie out as a character.

I feel that there are 3 major relationships that Blitz has to resolve in one way or another before he can properly heal from the events of the fire: Fizz, Barbie, and Cash. Him and Fizz have worked through their issues and are back on good terms and I feel like Barbie is next since we have actually met her in present day. Alternatively, we have no clue what Cash has been up to since the fire or even where he is now which leads me to believe that Blitz will probably be confronting him last, if at all.

That's all I've got so far but please, if you've read this far, drop a comment or a reblog with you own thoughts and opinions. Tell me what you think of my theories and share your own in return! We've got a long wait until the next season so we might as well scream about it together :)

#helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss season 3 predictions #blitz #stolas #stolitz #octavia #millie knolastname #moxxie knolastname #theories #helluva boss theories

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s-awturn · 9 months ago

Text

Us, again || CS55

summary: Abandoned in a strange country, with no money, friends or family and a positive pregnancy test, Y/N finds herself on the brink of unprecedented chaos. There is no one she can count on, except her ex best friend, who she didn't want to have to turn to.

cw: conflict, abandonment, crying crisis and mention of an anxiety attack. Old conflict, nostalgia, separation, problem solving, relationship to be established, ex-friends to lovers. Extreme cuteness

a/n: I wanted to start something like this, and Carlos and Toto are always my favorites for angst and this plot arose especially for the grid's smooth operator. And I articulated the details of the story while reading "my tears ricochet" by @spngi and it's no secret to anyone that I'm a drama girl, so be aware that this is going to be a lot of drama, something cute and sweet, we'll see how it turns out.

a/n¹: notes: oh my god, this took so long to finish, I almost gave up when Tumblr lost everything I had ever written (I almost cried) after four attempts, three days, I finally finished it, anyway, I hope you like it, yay!

Freely inspired by Taylor Swift's "cardigan".

“I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs / The smell of smoke would hang around this long / 'Cause I knew everything when I was young / I knew I'd curse you for the longest time”

"This isn't happening, Y/N, Don't fucking fuck with me! This isn't happening!" I hear Aaron's raised voice as he walks through the hotel room, in my hands, an urgent ultrasound and a pregnancy test with a static "positive" on the test screen. "I can't be a father now!"

"I also didn't choose to be a mother now, Aaron, much less did I make this child alone!" I respond, equally upset and stand in front of him, I would never let him, or any man in the world, get above me.

"So it's decided, we will have the abortion" he says as if it were simple, and my mind spins in a huge spiral, I don't know if abortion is an option for me, much less in a strange country and in circumstances like this. "Ireland guarantees the right to abortion, we can do it today, hopefully!"

Aaron holds my arms tightly and shakes me lightly, trying to convince me. I move away from him as if I had been shocked and stop in the other corner of the suite, looking at him as if he were a stranger.

"I'm not going to have an abortion, much less in a foreign country! I cannot and will not decide this overnight, Aaron!" I speak and I see him become more exasperated and veins grow on his forehead, a sign of stress.

"You've got to be fucking kidding," he complains, and I don't like the glazed look he's giving me. "You can't decide? Y/N, fuck, we have plans, we start our trip now and you can’t decide?”

"No, we're talking about my body! Whether I carry this pregnancy forward or not, is my decision!" My voice echoes in the room and Aaron sighs, I feel a bad shiver running up my spine when I see my boyfriend's green eyes go dark.

"You're right, it's your decision, it's your body..." He rests his hands on his hips, breathing deeply "let's sleep, we'll go back to London and talk better"

I nod and change into comfortable pajamas. The test and ultrasound are forgotten on the table. All around us, the strange tension and feeling of something wrong only allow me to sleep much later than I would like. Aaron falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow.

-- ♡ --

I wake up as the sun escapes the translucent curtains, my body hurts like I've been hit by a truck. I barely open my eyes and my intuition kicks in and I sit up so quickly that my muscles groan with pain, there is no sign of Aaron, his bags are not in their place, I jump out of bed and open the safe, I only find my passport, torn up, in fact. No sign of my cards or the money we brought for the trip.

Tears burn my eyes as the truth crashes down on my head.

Aaron abandoned me in Ireland, alone, without money and with my documents torn up, he destroyed me. I start to hyperventilate, there's no one I can ask for help, no one to rescue me, I'm alone in a country I don't even know. My boyfriend left me, alone, pregnant, without money or any fucking support.

"Son of a bitch!" I scream and collapse on the floor, crying without stopping, I should have followed my instincts, but I trusted that he would never do something like that to me, I trusted his feelings. I was such a idiot! It takes me a few minutes to recover, taking deep breaths with my left hand on my flat stomach.

"I'll find a way to get us out of this, baby, I promise" my voice shakes and I try to stop crying. "Your stupid mom will find a way, we'll be fine soon"

After forty minutes between "I'll fix this" and "Oh my God, I'm fucked", I call the hotel reception, and I have the excellent news that my stay is guaranteed for another eight days, a Since Aaron — my stupid fucking ex — we paid before we left. At least I have a guaranteed roof over my head for a week, with food and clean clothes, I wouldn't be completely homeless.

My parents passed away years ago, my friends walked away from me when I started dating Aaron, which means I'm fucking alone.

A new bout of crying chokes my throat and I'm tired of being strong, I can't believe that stupid man left me and stole my money. I feel so, so destroyed. I face the test and the ultrasound, I wanted my mother to be here, I wanted her to comfort me and tell me everything would be okay.

Five days later.

"Wow, really? One hundred and fifty euros for a new passport? I don't have that money!" my hope dies as soon as I understand how bad my situation is. "I have the police report, isn't that worth anything?"

"I can check with my superiors, but it will take at least two weeks, Miss L/N"

"Two weeks? I can't afford to stay here for two weeks, I have no money!" My voice shakes and I suppress the urge to cry.

"It's the best I can do, Miss"

"Well, thank you then..." I thank you grudgingly and hang up. It's been five days since Aaron left, in the meantime, I've sunk into so much self-pity that I'm sharing the rent with Samara. I've swallowed my pride the last few days and called some old friends, but all the calls went to voicemail, and that doesn't surprise me.

What did I expect? That they would welcome me with open arms after I turned my back on everyone? How I was deceived;

My reservation will expire in three days, and then I will literally be in the gutter of Dublin, with no chance of returning to London, all the disappointment turns my stomach and brings on the disgusting feeling of sickness, I only have time to run to the bathroom and vomit my breakfast into the toilet. I don't know if it's a symptom of pregnancy or if it's a consequence of the horrible situation I'm in. I brush my teeth and go back to the room, going straight to the suite's balcony and facing the view of the city, I hope Dublin's landscape makes me forget how bad everything is around me. Sitting on the lounge chair, looking at the azaleas on the balcony wall, she absently ran her fingers over her belly; If you asked me a few days ago if I wanted to be pregnant, my answer would have been a giant "no", but now, I feel anxious about the little things.

Looking forward to buying the baby's clothes, choosing the color of the room or making a list of names, nothing will be easy, I know, but I will make it work, even with all the difficulties and problems, I will strive to be a good mother, and a father too if necessary.

"You didn't come at a good time, little one, but I promise I'll do everything I can for you" I murmur, trying to be confident and find some way out. There are no more tears to cry, there's no more pain to suffer so I'm not going to waste any more energy on it, fuck Aaron, I'm capable of taking care of everything, I just need some time, but I'll make it. I remain on the balcony until the end of the afternoon, when the hotel reception calls me, letting me know that dinner is already served, the mention of food makes me salivate with hunger, in the same way that it shakes my stomach in previous waves of nausea. "I need energy to sort things out for us, little one, so you can let mommy keep the food down today, huh?”

I talk to my stomach as I look for my cell phone in the mess on the bed, ignoring the pieces of my passport, otherwise I would have a tantrum and be able to get to England by swimming. I greet some guests, who ask me how I am and if the baby is already giving me trouble, and they also ask me if I managed to solve the passport problem. These same guests found out about this when they found me in tears at the reception, sympathizing with the situation I was in.

"We're fine, he's already deciding what he likes to eat, and avocado toast isn't on the list" I say laughing as we go downstairs. The restaurant is not that crowded, most guests prefer to dine in local restaurants and pubs, so most of the seats were vacant, the process of serving my food and choosing the table furthest from the air conditioning takes less than ten minutes. The food on my plate is almost gone when I'm drawn to the call of an Irish sports program, they were going to rebroadcast the Monaco GP qualifying, with comments from the commentators. I don't even notice the time passing, I end up staying there in the restaurant as the guests leave and say goodbye to me, and my heart starts racing like a rocket when the camera focuses on Carlos Sainz.

"I haven't heard anything from him since... Oh, it's been so long..." I murmur, resting my chin in my hands, hoping he can get a good position. Even though I haven't been to the races for some time, I still know how things work and I also know that Monaco is a difficult circuit. I can't help but be thrilled when he gets P2, it was quite an achievement! This leads me to wonder if he still keeps the same phone number.

Can Carlos help me... I know I'm being selfish, but I have no one else to turn to, and I'm about to despair. We were friends until one of his girlfriends decided that there was no more room in Carlos' life for me, until she decided that I could no longer come between them, not that I would, I always wanted my best friend to be happy, with whoever he was, and what hurt the most was Carlos agreeing with her and cutting me out of his life. Carlos was my best friend.

"It doesn't hurt to try, I already have the 'no'" I murmur, sliding my finger across my cell phone while I look for his phone. With my heart racing, I press "call" and wait and at the height of my anxiety, I count the seconds until he answers. Thirty seconds until I hear Carlos' familiar voice.

"Hello?" He says and I can't hold back my tears, like an emotional idiot.

"Carlos?"

"Y/N? Is that really you?" He looks as surprised as I am.

"Well yes, it's me" I give a choked laugh, the tears are blocking my nose, soon I'll be exhausted. "I know we're not friends anymore, Carlos, but I need your help... I don't would bother you if it wasn't necessary"

I hear the sound of a door closing and a strong accent complaining in what I think is French.

"You would never bother me, how can I help you, cielo?"

And then I talk, I say everything that's happening, my sobs make me cry in some parts, the hormones are already in an uproar, apparently. Carlos listens to me without interrupting once, and if I know him well, I know he's messing up his hair and frowning like he always does when he's concentrating.

"I wouldn't be calling if I weren't desperate, Carlos..."

"Calm down, calm down, you did well in the place, cielo, I won't be able to go, of course, but you'll be home soon, I promise" he says, there are no signs of hesitation in his voice and It comforts me in a way I can never explain. I hear the sound of drawers opening and a sheet of paper being torn apart "give me the address of the hotel, I won't be able to go, because of the rush, but I will send my advisor to take care of everything, don't worry, bien?"

"Thank you, thank you so much! I can't even tell you how grateful I am" I speak emotionally and give the hotel address next to the phone, in case I don't answer.

"There's no need to thank me, cielo, I would never leave you helpless, never" he assures me and I feel eighteen again, sitting on the sidewalk outside my house with him, the two of us eating ice cream and talking about his season. Oh God, I missed him so much.

"Congratulations on P2, you were great" I say sincerely, Carlos is a great driver and I know how much he works every day, I don't need to be with him to know, he is very obstinate.

"Oh, did you watch it? Thanks, Y/N"

We stay silent on the line, sharing our breaths until I break.

"I don't have enough words to thank you, Carlos, but thank you, you saved me" I say, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. "I need to sleep now... Good luck in the race tomorrow, I'll be rooting for you"

"Thank you cielo, have a good night" he says and we remain on the call until I hang up. Carlos and I have always shared silence, staying silent has never been a problem between us. When I lock myself in my room, all the weight of that day falls on me like a stone, I take a hot shower and lie down, tormented by memories.

"You don't call me anymore, so I came to see you, your mother told me you were here" I say, entering his room, something we always did, Carlos and I always went to each other's houses.

"Well, I didn't return your call for a reason" he said and I saw Isabella, his current girlfriend come out of the bathroom, wearing one of his shirts. "We'll talk later, Y/N"

“You never call me Y/N, what’s wrong, cielo?”

"We can't be friends anymore" He says it without pity, harshly and even cruelly.

"Huh? Why? Because of Isabella?"

"Isabella has nothing to do with this" he says quickly, standing in front of his girlfriend, Isabella puts on shorts and says she will give us privacy, I don't even look at her face, keeping his eyes on Carlos. "your feelings do!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Carlos?! My feelings? Are you crazy?

"I heard your conversation with Blanca" he confesses and I feel my heart stop, he shouldn't have... "Don't make me say, Y/N, So spare us the humiliation of having to break your heart over feelings that should never exist, because you know, we would never have anything."

I could call him names, fight him, or do anything else, but I just nodded and took off the friendship bracelet we had made last summer. A stupid symbol of our bond, which no longer exists.

"I think you're right, I hope you're immensely happy, cielo and that you can achieve everything you dream of" I leave the bracelet on his desk before leaving the room. I say goodbye to Mrs. Sainz and Blanca, Carlos' sister apologizes, she didn't know he was listening. "It's my fault, there's no need to apologize"

I said goodbye to them, aware that it would be the last time we would see each other like that, I had been accepted at a university in England and with the death of my parents, nothing kept me in Spain anymore. Except only for Carlos.

But not anymore, that was the last time I spoke to Carlos.

My heart jumps when I wake up, I feel my face wet and I confirm that just like in the memories, I cried. I really had feelings for Carlos, but I was willing to ignore them if it meant having my best friend with me, I didn't care if he was dating or anything, I just needed him, I didn't have anyone else, feelings that shouldn't have even arisen. I didn't want to ask him for help, but I knew I would never have the courage to ask Blanca, Reyes or Mr. Carlos, so I had to swallow my pride and call him.

I'm still looking at the hotel ceiling, thinking about the floodgate that Carlos opened in me, with just one phone call. I thought I was over it, that the hurt and resentment were gone. As for the mistake, I was as hurt and resentful as years ago, it still hurt as if it had been done yesterday. My daydreams are interrupted by a call from an unknown number, I answer and make the mistake of answering while yawning.

"I'm sorry, please, I just woke up" I ask before hearing the person, who laughs, I would recognize that laugh anywhere, even in a crowd. "Carlos"

"Sorry for waking you up, cielo" he says and I feel my skin itch, the nickname takes me back to good days, where everything was sweet and full of dreams.

"Relax, I literally just woke up. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes everything is fine, I just called to let you know that there will be a car to pick you up at one o'clock in the afternoon, you will be taken to a private flying field straight to London" he says, I hear the buzz of the pitlane in the background, lots of shouting in Italian and the uproar of the crowd. The race would start soon. "Is everything okay with you, cielo? Can you get it ready in time?"

"Yes, definitely yes, I didn't want to bother you, Carlos, especially before a race."

"Ah" he clicked his tongue, dismissing my apology "it's no big deal, I promised I would take you home and I will, there will be a car at the private airport to take you home, just give your address to the driver, and don't worry about paying anything, you only need to worry about eating and resting during the trip, as for your passport, I scheduled a time for you to get a new copy of your document, in three days, you will receive a memo on your cell phone."

My throat constricted, well here I am feeling like crying again, these hormones are still going to make me dehydrated from crying, or my tears would dry up at some point.

"You're being a guardian angel for me, Carlos, I'll never thank you enough" I murmur hoarsely, swallowing the tears.

"Oh no, no please, don't cry, you know I never know how to deal with your tears" he says and I know he's despairing, which makes me laugh and sniffle, in a strange way that I know I've never done before "I'm not doing anything much, if with all this money, I can't do something simple like take you home, what is all this for?"

"I know, thank you very, very much... I'll pack my bags and have coffee, you'll do well in this race, I know that" I say quickly and hang up before it gets awkward, or rather, weirder.

The following hours are a mess, checking in at the hotel, the journey to the runway and much of the flight are done with my mind on standby, I could only think about how betrayed I felt by Aaron's attitude, how I needed to swallow my pride and ask for help from someone I swore I wouldn't see again. The Earth turned several times until it threw me into Carlos Sainz's life once again. I sink into the armchair looking at the fluffy clouds through the window.

"I said I would find a way, little one, and we're going home now. Maybe you'll question my methods in the future, but not my results" I laugh at my own joke and I let my hands rest on my belly, I suddenly feel anxious to see it bigger, Being a mother was not a goal for the next five years, I'm not at all prepared for motherhood, but I don't know how to describe the panic that gripped my heart when Aaron suggested the interruption. I have a stable job, which allows me to work from home and a flexible schedule, I have a small apartment, but with an extra room for the baby and well, I decided to move on. I already feel very connected to the baby, and there is a break in the loneliness that I have felt for years, it is good not to feel alone.

My cell phone rings the moment I turn the key in the lock, Carlos' name flashes on the display and I answer it while trying to push my bags inside.

"The driver just told you he dropped you off at home, did everything go well? Were the flight attendants kind to you?"

"Yes, yes, everything was fine, Carlos, the flight attendants are really cute, I was treated very well, you can put your weapons away" I breathe a sigh of relief as I sit down on my sofa, finally away from all that hell I went through in Dublin.

"That's good, cielo, I've been worried about you all day"

I don't know what to answer, I don't know what Carlos expects from me after all these years, after so much distance.

"I'm glad you're home and well, cielo, I'll let you rest now"

Another time, we are silent on the call until I ask "did you win?"

“It was Charles' home race, my job was to make sure he won, but I got second place” he says, there's a certain 'job done' tone in his voice. "I'm happy with today's result"

"That's good, I'm happy for you, and for your teammate" I say sincerely.

"Thank you, that matters a lot... Anyway, rest okay? You can't sleep late anymore, take care cielo, call me for whatever you need, anything, don't hesitate" he says with such firmness that It almost makes me uncomfortable, so we hang up. I don't know if Carlos is back in my life and I don't know if I'm okay with that. It's so confusing, but I don't need to deal with it right now, I have more important things to take care of.

Almost two weeks later, I got a new passport, applied for new cards and was being monitored by an obstetrician. Luckily I didn't run into Aaron a single day, I changed the locks, I threw his things in the trash and made my transition from a committed woman to a single woman smoothly.

"What do I need to buy at the market?" I mutter as I check cupboards and fridge, licorice dangling from my lips. "milk, eggs, sugar, tomatoes and pasta... Cheese and bacon, for sure" Maybe I'll make a carbonara when I get home from the store. I had been in the middle of an Italian food fixation for days, all I wanted was pasta, tomatoes and cheese. Just when I finish making the market list, my campaign rings and I have a heart attack when I see no one other than Carlos Sainz — and all his other surnames — standing at my door.

"Carlos? What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, to be honest I don't know, but after you called me, I couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again" He says it so fast I think he's going to choke and I pull him into the apartment before the neighbors see him and decide to hold a carnival on my doorstep. He wastes a few seconds looking around, for an instant I saw my best friend there, the guy who knew everything about my life and who today, knew nothing about me anymore, big breakthrough.

"I'm sorry if you think that explains anything," I reply, looking at how lost he looks. "but again, what do you want here, Carlos?"

"I want to apologize, I was a shitty friend to you, I was cruel, I belittled your feelings, you are the most amazing and resilient person I know" he says, taking a step towards me, I don't back away, but I make it clear that he is not welcome in my personal space. "Life without you has been bad, very bad and I only realized that when I saw you, weeks ago."

"Walking away was the best thing we did, Carlos. God knows how we would have ended up if you hadn't put an end to it."

"No, it shouldn't have, it wasn't the right thing! We were left without our best friends because we didn't know how to deal with things, I didn't know"

"Carlos, you can't be best friends with the guy you're in love with, at some point I would hate you and that would be worse"

"and you didn't hate it?"

I keep quiet, because yes, I hated him for a long time, I still think I do and I don't even know why I'm trying to defend him. It must be the hormones talking.

"Yeah, yes I hated you for a long time, maybe I still hate you, but you were my best friend, I can't hate you forever"

I look at the man who was my mainstay for years, my confidant, best friend, accomplice, the guy who won my heart with gumdrops and notes in candy wrappers. The man I fell in love with and broke my heart. There is a mixture of feelings in me, hurt, pain, hope, resentment, all of it shaking my heart nonstop, I don't know what to feel.

"I don't know if I can have you around, Carlos, you were really my best friend, but you were also the guy I fell in love with and who broke my heart, I don't know if I'm ready to have you back"

He swallows, taking in what I said, and for a moment, I think he's going to give up and walk away, but he nods and straightens his posture "okay, I'm going to prove that I'm sorry, for everything, for being a shitty friend, a stupid guy, I'm going to make you forgive me and" he pauses, to emphasize everything "I'll be with you, I'll make up for all the years, all the pain, I'll deserve you, Y/N, I swear"

I don't even know what to think, my mind goes blank as I try to understand what he's up to.

"What if I don't want to?" The question escapes my mouth without permission, the filter between my brain and mouth is off, apparently. "What makes you think I might want you in my life again?"

He doesn't respond for a few minutes, I can almost see the gears in Carlos' head turning, trying to find a good answer.

"Nothing, but that's never been an impediment for me, you know"

I just stare at him, surprised by that, my mouth articulates, but no sound comes out.

"You came all the way here from Spain for this?"

"I would come from anywhere in the world"

After that there wasn't much we could say, Carlos insisted on staying and making pancakes for me, and I couldn't say no as my stomach growled like a monster at the mention of food. In an instant I was watching Carlos move everything in my kitchen, he chops strawberries and blackberries while letting the pancake batter rest for a while.

“Aaron looked for you?” He questions, putting the fruit in a bowl and only looks at me when I sigh loudly. "What? Has he been bothering you? I'll sort it out"

"What? No, no! He didn't show up"

"Then why do you look frustrated?" I watch Carlos put the frying pan on the fire and add the yeast to the dough, and then stir gently, placing small discs in the hot pan.

"I'm just tired, all the stress from the trip is still affecting my sleep..." I murmur, stealing a piece of strawberry, the smell of the pancakes increases my hunger and Carlos laughs when he hears my belly rumbling. "Don't laugh, I'm eating for two and you have no idea how much this little one likes to eat"

We enter another silent space, Carlos focused on finishing the pancakes and my mind wanders to our conversation, some time before. I'm not a hypocrite in saying that I've already forgiven Carlos, but I don't think there's still space for that kind of resentment, I'm not eighteen anymore, I'm about to be a mother, I no longer have the time or inclination to feed old grudges. And God knows how much I missed him all these years, I refused to watch any races so I wouldn't have to see him. Calling Carlos and asking for his help seems to have put all our dramas in order, It made me understand that one way or another, my life would end up intertwined with his again.

No matter how much I wanted or tried, I would never be able to completely move away from Carlos, and it's time to accept that.

"Here you go, eat it all, I don't want your baby to grow up hating me" he says and pushes over a plate full of pancakes, berries, honey and some icing sugar. A beautiful montage.

"I hope it's good, or we'll both hate you" I reply and laugh when he turns pale, I take out a generous piece and the sweet smell intoxicates me for a few seconds. I go to heaven and back when I chew the piece of pancake, the taste is light and the dough melts in my mouth, I know I can eat this for the rest of my life and be happy every day.

"Holy fucking God, this is perfect, Carlos!" I take a piece of pancake with a strawberry and feel heaven on my tongue, a moan of appreciation makes my whole body vibrate, this is perfect, damn"If you had used that to apologize, I would have definitely accepted it from the beginning."

"if I had known food was the secret, I would have come prepared" He laughs as I finish eating, nothing more is said until I finish the second helping, which Carlos was happy to serve me.

I slide my finger across the plate, picking up the traces of honey and sugar, humming as I literally wipe the plate clean. I insist that he put everything in the dishwasher and come sit with me so we can sort everything out, once and for all.

"I still can't believe you came all the way to London... You got my address from the driver and you're here, making me pancakes and everything..." I say, playing with one of the cushions while Carlos takes the armchair in front of me. I allow myself to face him, he's even more handsome than before, the trail of beard over his chiseled jaw, his thick hair in an elegant mess, Carlos is a vision of fucking paradise.

"I'm not lying, Y/N, I really want to make amends with you, in any way" he assures, and breaks the distance between us, sitting next to me while holding my hands. "You missed me so much, and when you called me crying, I realized that we missed so much from each other, I wanted you to be at my first victory with Ferrari, I wanted to see your graduation, help you move in... "

In a strange way, I'm grateful that he doesn't mention the fact that I was in love with him, not that I'm ashamed of it, but ignoring it might make us easier to get along with.

"We can try, Carlos, try to be friends again, because my goodness, I missed you so much" I confess and he laughs.

"I promise to make it worth it, cielo" he squeezes my hands, running his thumb affectionately from the back of my hand. "I won't disappoint you"

"I bet it'll be a boy," he says, stealing a spoonful of my ice cream, fast enough to avoid the hit of my spoon on his hand. "God said to share bread, you know?"

"Exactly, He said to share the bread, not my ice cream" I mumble, protecting the container with my body. Carlos has been coming to my house for weeks, always bringing food — I'm beginning to suspect that it has a direct connection to my stomach and my hunger —, gifts for the baby and books on child psychology, food introduction and everything he considers necessary to educate a child. He's been taking over my couch whenever he has time off. I dare say that I see more Carlos than my neighbors. "And why do you think it will be a boy? This is misogyny, Sainz"

He tries to steal my ice cream again and this time I slap him right in the middle of the forehead, which is effective because he moves away. "I'm not being sexist, I'm following my intuition, okay?"

"The last time we followed your intuition, we ended up in the middle of nowhere, at three in the morning in a car without gas. If it weren't for my father, you would be grounded to this day." I respond, changing the sofa, Carlos is willing to steal my ice cream, interfering with a pregnant woman's right to satisfy her desire for a sweet treat after lunch. I'm going to report him to human rights.

"But do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

"I have no idea, I still don't have that 'maternal intuition' that I've seen in the support group for solo mothers, but I'm fine with any option, I'll love it regardless of gender" I say, my right hand slides over my recently completed five-month-old belly. "I should have found out the sex at the last appointment with the obstetrician, but this little one here had his back turned, can you believe it?"

Carlos laughs, throwing his entire body back and falling onto the sofa. I just watch him laugh, being enveloped by his laughter like a fluffy blanket.

"Seriously, I didn't even know that was possible, crossing your legs, ok, but being on your back is something new" he says, still laughing and drying his tears. I just realize how close he is, When I feel your hand on my belly, the calloused palm warms my skin even with the shirt between us. My breath hitches in my throat, something new growing and It's not just the little traveler in my womb... I don't know if that could be a good thing, especially considering our history.

"Yeah, she told me to go back there in a few days, if I want to find out the gender before the sixth month, then I'll be there on Tuesday, I won't have a meeting at work and I can buy the paints" I explain, poking at the ice cream, trying to distract myself from Carlos' hand on my belly.

"I just need to be in Maranello on Saturday, so I can join you if you want" he suggests, finally moving to his end of the sofa.

"Really? I don't want to disturb you, I know race week is coming and you need to prepare" I say trying, I don't even know what I'm trying, I'm going to blame my exploding hormones.

"I can deal with that later, you need my opinion on paint colors and someone to hold your hand while you root for the business class traveler to be facing forward this time" he said, and looks at me meaningfully "that is, I am most needed here"

"Are you sure? You don't need to go"

"I would be there, even if I were playing crosswords in the office waiting room" he says, without giving me any chance for discussion.

"Okay, whoever said that is no longer here, now pass the ice cream slowly and no one gets hurt" I say and hold out my hand, waiting for the container he stole when he thought I wasn't looking. "Now"

"That's unfair," he grumbles, handing over the pot.

"I'll let you have the ice cream if you get pregnant in my place."

"You win, you can have the ice cream"

-- ♡ --

"Do you want me to come in with you?" He asks and I bite my lip to keep from laughing, Carlos is holding my bag under his shoulder. Quite a scene.

"I need someone to hold my hand, and" I look behind him "I don't see any more volunteers, so smile, you've been selected" I smile, waving my index finger as if it were a flag.

"Okay, let's confirm that my intuition is right"

"Uh-huh, of course yes, cielo" I say, entering the office.

The obstetrician doesn't need to ask any initial questions, since I was here a few days ago, so asking how I am is irrelevant. I change into that horrible hospital gown and lie down on the stretcher, Carlos looks anxious in the passenger seat and my hand grabs his so fast I don't even register it, I laugh nervously as the cold gel is spread across my bulging belly.

"Let's hope he's being an exhibitionist today" she says confidently and starts to use the device.

"How can you understand anything here, it's all blurry" he says, approaching the screen. "Where is his head?"

"Shut up, chilli" I say, but I give a nervous laugh "I don't understand anything either, so let those who do understand tell you what we're seeing", I shake his hand and receive an eager smile.

"We're lucky today, he's turned around, or rather, she" she indicates on the screen and I start crying immediately, Carlos squeezes my hand and wipes my tears. "Congratulations, you will be parents of a very strong-willed girl."

"Oh, no, no, I'm just the family friend" Carlos corrects her, but this is forgotten, given how much I'm crying. "You're crying a lot, should I be worried, cielo?"

"I-I'm fine" I sniffle crying less, I'm having a little girl, I don't even know what to say, I'm exploding like fireworks "I'm fine, really"

"I'll leave you two alone" the obstetrician leaves and I feel, cleaning the gel from my abdomen and I am hugged tightly, Carlos supports me with care and zeal, there is so much between the lines here, so much implied.

"That little girl is so lucky to be born as your daughter" he murmurs, stroking my hair gently "a little girl, damn you were right, my intuition is shit"

I press my hands to his shoulder blades so hard I feel my fingers tremble. "Thanks for coming"

"There's no place in the world I should be, cielo"

"You want me to go to the next race? Why?"

"I like having important people cheering me on there, and Charles is bothering me to meet you" he says, painting the wall lilac, he's all dirty, there's dye in his hair, and of course, he is shirtless. As long as I don't have a knife at my neck, I will never confess that the vision is messing with me. "I will take care of everything, you can stay in the same hotel as me"

"You should stop taking care of everything, or you'll have a heart attack instead of appendicitis" I murmur, Carlos insisted that I sit and watch him paint, he even brought books, chopped fruit and even Alexa to play my favorite playlist. "Seriously Charles Leclerc wants to meet me? Why?"

"I have no idea, Charles must have heard it one of the times you called me" he replies. Carlos speaks so quickly that there's no way not to be suspicious, but I give him the benefit of the doubt, I'm sure Charles will tell me why.

"Mhmm, I know... Now I'm curious to meet him too... But the trip to Budapest can be so tiring..." I murmur, peeling the pear as I watch him slide the paint roller along the wall perfectly, Carlos is meticulous and perfectionist in everything he sets out to do, so I admire the paint stains in his hair and on different parts of his body, thank God the fan is on here, otherwise I would be melting from the heat, and having him there, almost naked, doesn't help much.

“It’s not like I’m going to let you take a commercial flight to Hungary, please Y/N, I’m not that petty!” He retorts, touching up the paint on the roller while giving me a quick look "You will go with me to Budapest, on a private flight and I will leave you staying in the same hotel as me, if you are worried, I will hire a private neonatal nurse to accompany us, but I really want you to go, it's important for me to have you two there with me."

"If you insist on that—..." I try to say, but he interrupts me.

"I insist yes, and I'm glad you agreed, I was ready to start the Infallible Convincing Plan for Carlos Sainz" he says and I laugh loudly "What? Am I not convincing?"

"Persuasion isn't one of your best qualities, chilli" I mutter, picking up the folded sheet of paper from among the books he brought me "changing the subject, I listed the female names that I liked most for the baby, feel free to give your opinion, I'm quite undecided here, I have good options."

"I'm listening, I hope they are good names and none taken from the books, considering how obsessed with A Court of Roses and Thorns you are, the girl is in danger of being called Feyre" Carlos shamelessly mocks me and I throw the pear stem at him. "I'm just telling the truth, cielo, but come on, give me the options"

"You know, Ancient Egypt has been my Roman Empire for years, so I thought I would pay homage to one of the greatest queens of that civilization, none other than Cleopatra, but" I pause, aware that Carlos will want to object, so I continue quickly "I chose to shorten the name, Cleo. It's a good option, right?"

"It's a beautiful, elegant and feminine name. I like it, you have a good option" he responds, with his back to me, giving a beautiful view of his lats contracting and relaxing. Oh God, what a hell of a handsome man.

"Well, the next option is Athena, as the Greek goddess of justice, wisdom and war, I don't think I need to explain further, right?"

"It's good, but I still prefer Cleo"

"I like Margot and Elena, they are both elegant and short, I didn't think about long and complicated names, I don't want her to have problems learning to write her own name"

"It's a good justification, giving her a name that's easy to read and write... So I still prefer Cleo"

"Don't you want to hear the other options?"

"Nope, I like Cleo, it's beautiful and very meaningful, and it matches her last name, she'll love it, when she understands it"

I hadn't thought about my last name when choosing the names, so Carlos' reasoning makes sense, so I already had a name chosen.

"Alright, we have a winner, I like Cleo too, thanks for helping me choose"

"You're welcome, we are here to serve well and always serve" he makes an exaggerated bow and I laugh.

"Oh really? My kitchen faucet is dripping non-stop, can you fix it for me?" I ask ironically and Carlos wipes the sweat from his face, giving me another meaningful look.

"Of course yes, cielo, I'll sort it out as soon as I'm done here"

"I'm kidding, chilli, you don't have to worry about it"

"But not me, I'll sort it out as soon as it's over" he insists and I give up trying to make him give up, Carlos is as stubborn as a wild horse, it's no wonder he's at Ferrari. Which makes me think of something:

"I agree to go with you, but I want to meet Lewis, it's my condition" I point my index finger and Carlos looks at me, raising his eyebrow.

"Really? I need to find out what makes Lewis Hamilton so appealing to the female audience" I can't identify the feeling in his voice, and I adjust myself in the seat, stroking my protruding belly. Being pregnant isn't easy, the nausea, all the swelling and fluid retention is horrible, I was already sleeping poorly because my belly wouldn't let me find a comfortable position and of course, I've already lost all my clothes. But I don't regret for a moment having continued with the pregnancy, my little traveler is a gift, Cleo already makes my days wonderful. I observe the lilac covering the walls little by little, making her room take on shape and color, soon the furniture would be assembled.

"I think it's the voice, he has a very good voice to listen to, I could listen to hours of ASMR of him speaking" I respond, hearing Carlos mumble intelligibly. "What did you think of color? I didn't want pink because I thought it was too obvious, and I love the combination of lilac and green"

"I like it, they are very pretty shades and you chose a good brand, they don't have a strong smell and they pigment well on the wall... I'm almost done here, where do you leave the tools to fix the tap?"

"Carlos, I was joking, don't worry about it, the plumber will come on Tuesday to fix it, I'm serious" I say, hoping he will forget this story. "Don't worry, it's serious!"

He puts the rest of the paint in the can and takes the paint roller to the laundry area. I even try to help, but Carlos forces me to sit down again when he returns from the laundry area. He himself collects the newspapers from the floor and opens the windows.

"I need a shower now, can I use your bathroom?"

"Obviously, feel free, I'll order a pizza for us" I say, following him to the living room, Carlos waves and gives a quick kiss and and go to my bathroom in the suite. I see how his jeans fit well on his hips, leaving the waistband of his underwear slightly visible and God only knows how that messes with my hormones. “Y/N, you fucking need to control yourself, he’s your best friend, stop acting like a needy bitch.

"Are you Y/N? Finally! It's a pleasure to meet you, Carlos talked a lot, a lot about you!" Charles tells me, giving me a tight, loving hug. He is really very handsome and It's easy to understand why his fans are so obsessed with him, he's gorgeous. He has an adorable dimpled smile on his face and I feel shaken all of a sudden.

"He also spoke a lot about you, Charles, it's great to meet you too" I return the hug.

"I hope he said good things"

"I tell her the truth!" Carlos shouted from afar.

Soon we are surrounded by the team, who are extremely warm and kind to me, but I feel claustrophobic among so many people.

"Okay guys, give her space, please, you're making her suffocate" Carlos appears as a salvation and takes me out of the crowd, Charles follows us to the empty area of the garage. "Are you okay, cielo? Here, drink some water, it's too hot and you can't get dehydrated." He offers me a disposable cup of water and makes me sit down. "I have to talk to my mechanics now, but Charles can take you for a ride in the pitlane, if that's okay?"

"Of course, of course don't worry, you can go, we'll be fine"

"Well, take care of them, Charles"

"Relax, being with me is the same as being with God, relax cabrón"

"That's what scares me" Carlos says and kisses me quickly on the cheek, not caring what it does to me, not that he knows.

"Ready? I'm going to give you the best guided tour of the pitlane" Charles interlaces his arm in the middle and guides me through the pitlane, he is approached by a lot of people, always being extremely kind and attentive, he makes some jokes while introducing the places and some people.

"Y/N! Carlos didn't tell me you were coming!" Lando comes running towards us and hugs me too, we were already close to the Mercedes garage, one of the employees told us that Lewis was in a meeting, so I decided to wait

"It was a last minute decision, there was no way to warn you anyway" I say while Charles takes a chair from the Mercedes garage and makes me sit down.

"Why did you meet her before me?! I hear Sainz talking about her all day!"

"I live in London and I met her during his visit, so I tagged along! It's not my fault you don't live in London!" Lando retorts and I laugh at them.

"Sorry if I'm Monegasque! I didn't choose to be born in Monaco!" My laughter echoes around the room and they stop arguing, and then they laugh too, but the moment is interrupted by Lewis Fucking Hamilton. He's more impressive up close, damn it.

"It's good to finally meet Carlos' girl, you've been the talk of the paddock, he says and my cheeks burn and he hugs me too. The four of us talk for almost forty minutes, Lewis is exactly what I expected, polite, kind and attentive, he really has the aura, that aura that few people have and that made it clear why he is one of the greatest in the sport. He's really impressive.

"Let's go to the garage chérie, you need to get some rest, it's too hot for you to stay out here" Charles says as he guides me to the Ferrari garage, where Carlos is already waiting for us, Seeing him is like a cool breeze on a scorching day, he looks so good in red that wow, it hurts to remember he's leaving the Tifosi.

"How was it? Did you enjoy the ride? Did Charles treat you well?" He asks and sizes me up, but I nod dismissively and hear Charles click his tongue, offended.

"I'm fine, Charles was a perfect gentleman to me, and we met Lando on the way, it was amazing!" I say.

"That's great, cielo, let's go to my room, you need to rest, there was a lot of excitement today" He takes me to his private room and lets me rest on the bed there, I don't mind, my feet hurt so much and I wanted to get some sleep, Carlos sits on the edge and rubs my belly, he looks strange, like he's uncomfortable. "Are you okay? How is Cleo?"

"We're fine, she's great" I reply and feel her move and kick, Cleo is Carlos' biggest fan, apparently, she always moves when he speaks, loves the sound of his voice and kicks in the exact place where his hand is. She's going to be his biggest groupie, and there's no argument.

I watch him, feeling my heart beat like a fool, Carlos has been exactly what I hope he will be, a friend, a great companion, he is always in connection with me, I hate knowing that I'm falling in love with him again, that I'm entering that gray area again, putting our friendship at risk because of my stupid feelings, so I'm going to swallow whatever I feel because I'm not willing to be without my best friend again, I couldn't bear to lose him and I want him to be part of my daughter's life, of our life. So it's okay for me to stay in the friend zone if it keeps him around.

"What's bothering you, chilli? You look strange"

"I... I need to tell you something"

"Carlos, if you brought me to Budapest just to kick me out of your life, I swear to God I will run you over with your own car!" I exclaim, trying to pinch his muscular abdomen but failing, obviously.

"What? Of course not, it's nothing like that" he laughs nervously "It's something else... Well, I know this shouldn't happen, and I don't even know how to tell you this, but spending the last few months with you It's been the best thing in my life, I love spending any available time with you and Cleo, helping you with everything, this has left an impression on me and continues to leave a lasting impression on me, I'm so grateful for allowing me to be a part of this."

He stops, leaving tension in the air, making me anxious.

"What I want to say, cielo, is that my feelings have changed, I no longer feel like your friend, I'm just falling more in love with you every day, I tried to avoid it, because we are friends, but it was inevitable and when I realized it, I was already in love. I know it's not the best case scenario, and I broke your heart before, so it's okay with me if you don't reciprocate, but please, let me stay close to you, close to Cleo, I already love this little traveler, I love her so much and it hurts to imagine not being around—..."

I didn't even notice when I sat down on the bed, but I notice the exact moment my hand grabs the collar of his red t-shirt and I kiss him. As I imagined doing since I was sixteen. Carlos responds almost immediately, there is urgency, care and satisfaction in his kiss, all spiced up by the sweet taste of cinnamon. It's exactly how I always imagined it. It's sweet, strong and intense.

"If it's up to us, you'll be with us forever, cielo" I say and he breathes a sigh of relief, kissing me again while leaving his calloused hand on my belly.

"I'm going back to London now, fuck it, my little girl is coming" he says on the cell phone, I hear the sound of him moving around the room, I breathe loudly when the contraction hurts and I want to cry, but I don't.

"No, no, you're saying goodbye to Ferrari, Cleo won't like knowing that her father is abandoning the race like that" I say in one breath. "We're fine, okay? Blanca is here with me and Reyes will be here soon, please stay calm, love and promise me you will win, for us"

Carlos whimpers and I stop holding him, bursting into tears, I wanted him with me there, but I would never forgive myself if he didn't race his last race with the Maranello team, and Cleo will understand in the future. I know it will.

"Cielo... This is fucking unfair" he kicks something and I sob "I wish I was there, you need me, both of you"

"Win the race, chilli, for us!" I scream because Blanca takes the phone away from me, because I enter the operating room.

-- ♡ --

Cleo is perfect, there is nothing Aaron about her, thank heavens and she is absurdly restless, she doesn't cry, but she doesn't sit still either. I'm absurdly in love with my little traveler, ga she is beautiful, healthy and was born at exactly the same time that Carlos won the race in Abu Dhabi, that didn't give him the championship, but it was extremely important for us, because the checkered flag waved when she cried.

"She's beautiful" Blanca is standing next to the stretcher, holding my daughter's little hand while Cleo breastfeeds, still with her eyes closed. The silence of the maternity corridor is broken by quick footsteps, the door to my room is opened with force and I see Carlos there, he still looks like a mess in his Ferrari overalls, messy hair and very, very tired.

He doesn't say anything, he just walks towards us and kisses my forehead for long seconds and looks at Cleo.

"I'll leave you alone" Blanca gives a suspicious smile and leaves the room.

"Lamento llegar tarde, pequeña estrella, pero gané la carrera por ti". He says in Spanish and I melt with so much love, Cleo seems to recognize his voice and calm down. "she is beautiful, too beautiful, I'm sorry for being late, mi amor"

"It's okay, chilli, you're here at the right time" I say, grateful to smell his expensive cologne, it feels like home and gives me so much comfort. "Thanks for coming."

"There's nowhere I want to be, cielo" he murmurs, carefully I make Cleo stop breastfeeding and cover her breast with the hospital gown. "are you really okay, cielo?"

"I'm, I'm fine actually... How did you get here so fast?"

"Fred left a jet ready for me, I just did the race, got the trophy and came here as soon as I could" he says, running his finger on Cleo's cheek. "She's so beautiful, her nose is identical to yours, happily."

"Do you want to hold her?"

He looks nervous, but accepts it. Carefully, Carlos places Cleo on his lap and walks around the room, talking softly to her, it's the most adorable scene in the world, my heart fills with love as I watch them.

"Cielo, will you marry me?" He says, still looking at the baby in his lap. "I want you close to me always, I want to take care of you, of Cleo. God, I love you both so much and I can't spend another day away from you"

"Are you serious?

"Damn it! I've never been so serious in my life"

"Yes, yes, yes! There is no one better for me, no better father for Cleo" I say in tears, and he comes over, sitting next to me on the hospital gurney. We both watch Cleo sleep in his arms, she looks comfortable and happy with him, just like me.

Months later.

"Let's go see daddy, sweetheart" I say, clearing the entrance to the paddock. It was Cleo's first race since she was born, Carlos had been looking forward to this race for weeks, but didn't want to travel with her so young, so I waited for the Silverstone circuit. I'm in the process of moving to Madrid, but it's happening gradually because of the racing, the 2025 season has been unusual, Williams is finally scoring well, Carlos is having a great season so far, so I thought it was only right that we came to support his race.

Cleo babbles happily, clapping her hands as the team members greet us and joke with Cleo, my little traveler laughs to everyone. She is Miss Congeniality herself, drawing attention wherever he goes. When we finally arrive at the garage, we are greeted by the sound of an engine being tested, the mess of Netflix with the team and Carlos aside, talking to Alex as if they were two old gossips, and when he sees us, he smiles so wide it shines like the sun.

"¡Mi estrellita!" He talks loudly as he comes towards us, Cleo claps her hands and laughs, making the cute baby sounds, getting the team's attention, I don't mind seeing my little girl be his focus first, this is part of what I idealize paradise to be. Cleo laughs as Carlos kisses and tickles her, so I go to greet the team, ask James what his predictions are for the day's race and talk to Alex.

"Where's Lily? I thought I'd have company during the race" I look around, trying to find her, but I hear Alex sigh.

"She's at a golf tournament in Asia, she won't be back until Thursday" he says sadly "She wanted to come, especially since it was Cleo's first race, but she couldn't miss it..."

"Oh, and will it be broadcast? I want to root for her" I say, the two of us spent a long time talking until Carlos came to us, they are both blushing and smiling, which makes my heart skip a beat.

"Hey cutie, I loved your blue jumpsuit it suits you so much" Alex holds out his hands to her and of course my daughter goes with open arms to him, Alex takes her for a walk and sees her cats, giving me and Carlos a little time together.

"Hey cielo, Thank you for coming, it's important to have you here" he says and kisses me, wrapping his arm around my waist, keeping me close."I like this dress, any special occasions?" He says, looking me from head to toe, I try not to blush under his malicious scrutiny.

"I thought we could have dinner today after the race"

"Oh, really? I think we can request a special babysitting service from Lando and Charles... And extend our dinner to the room, what do you think?"

"Excellent! We can make things better then" I suggest, playing with the zipper on his suit.

"And how do you intend to make things better, mi cielo?" He asks quietly, and suddenly everything around us disappears, leaving just the two of us there. The air becomes thicker and my breathing is heavy with anticipation.

"A bet, if you win the race, I'm in your hands, otherwise, you'll be under my yoke, what do you think?" I suggest softly, he laughs, running his tongue over his lips as he stares at me.

"I'm in, and I'm prepared mi amor, because I'm going to be at the highest place on the podium today" He assures me and kisses me, the team calls him to run, I find Alex and Cleo in the corner of the garage, both playing with one of his kittens.

"Come on baby, let's let Uncle Alex run" I pick Cleo up and she whimpers, wanting to keep playing with the puppy. "then we play with the kitten, love, I promise" I say to to comfort her, Alex promises to leave the kitten with Cleo later. The two drivers prepare for the race and I decide to watch from Carlos' room. Cleo is not used to the noise of the cars and I don't want it to become a nuisance for her.

The whole race is full of unforeseen events and surprises, no one is really expecting Williams to perform well, but Carlos and Alex are getting everything they can out of the car, putting pressure on Lewis and Lando in the first positions, the last laps literally become a game of musical chairs, the four exchange risky overtakes, the last lap is marked by an interesting exchange and Carlos takes first place, with Lewis in second and Alex in third. Cleo and I celebrated in the pilot room until we were taken to the garage, When Carlos arrives, he is euphoric and celebrates with the team, I love seeing his joy, how well he is with Williams. He comes to us and picks Cleo up, throwing her in the air and making her laugh. I'm taken by surprise when he kisses me, amidst applause and screams from the team.

"Thank you, thank you for everything, mi amor, I love you, I love our family"

"I love you, chilli, and I know Cleo does too" I respond, leaving my face close to his and kissing him again. I never thought that my life would have such a huge turnaround and that I would end up here, once again in love with my best friend and, on top of that, being reciprocated by him. I thank each and every entity that has guided me to this moment, I thank my incredible partner, my perfect family and our wonderful family.

I watch Carlos go get his trophy, he refuses to leave Cleo in the garage and she loves being in the middle of the mess.

And I love seeing them.

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#Spotify #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #s awturn

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 11 months ago

Text

I have provided fresh meat, my Darlings!

The link to the entire fic as well as the new chapter is provided above.

@blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @richardslady121 Also please let me know if you would also liked to be tagged with updates!

CW: dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; rough sex; implied/referenced child abuse; blood kink; problematic smut; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced torture

Chapter summary: Feyd-Rautha and the Reader look at each other and think, "They need work, but it's fine. I'm training them."

Chapter Notes:

-This chapter doesn't have quite as much plot or action and is generally more introspective/kind of shows a turning point and transition to both the Reader starting to learn to play the game and Feyd-Rautha seeking to challenge and unnerve her. Basically the Reader thinking, "I don't think I can reasonably make him better but I can make him treat me better" and Feyd thinking, "I can make her worse😈" -There have been a lot of interpretations of Feyd-Rautha's Darlings given that there's little information we're really given within the movie and I really like the theory that I've seen going around that they're effectively animals with human bodies that were experimented on by the Bene Tleilax.

CHAPTER SEVEN: YOU'RE LEARNING

You wake up early the next morning to your morning coffee and a reminder of your mother’s advice. She dispensed it more than once over the years, enough that you were able to repeat it verbatim: sometimes a person isn’t a person, but an obstacle. Sometimes they’re obstacles that you need to face, problems that you need to solve. Find out what they need that you can use to get ahead.

So what does Feyd-Rautha want and how do you get it for him in order to temper him, make him more amenable to you? He’s made clear at this point what he doesn’t want: compassion that he’s undoubtedly misconstrued as pity, any reminders of his childhood and adolescence, and any insinuations–intentional or otherwise–that he’s inadequate as a man.

That leaves what he does want from you, and for the most part you think you know. He wants you to have his children, and that’s in progress if not now, then soon. He wants, well, other than last night, he’s been transparent that he wants you , carnally if for nothing else.

He also wants you to properly learn to fight at the level he wants, and there’s no way it’s just for your sake, or even wanting you to stay safe as the mother of his future children. Those are a given.

You can’t forget the way he’d gotten hard during your training and the way he spoke about it later. You hadn’t seen it in the arena when he was slashing throats with theatricality and precision but little else, but this must be intimate for him. It doesn’t surprise you once you think about it; a man who enjoys the taste of your blood would most certainly get off on getting a knife at your throat, even if he’s not allowed to cut it.

So how do you use that? The Reverend Mother Mohiam all but stated that seduction was the key to tempering and subduing him into something you can handle but that’s easier said than done. You’ve understood on some level for years now that you’d one day have to learn to use your sex as a tool, but it’s easier to implement in theory rather than practice. The limited experience you’ve had before this–kisses both stolen and given freely at night when you’d slipped away unsupervised, fondling over the clothes, above the waist, and once grasping and sliding your hand over a boy you’d liked as he’d panted and moaned directions at you and you’d frantically tried to finish him off before either of you could get caught--weren’t for an agenda but for its own enjoyment. Before your wedding night the only person who’d dared go beneath your skirts was you. And then, of course, you’re reasonably certain that most men don’t keep an entire armoire of devices to use or have used on them while in bed, that most men aren’t eager to taste their wife’s blood, that most men don’t carry around the kind of shame and buried anger that your husband does wrapped in a deep-seated need to hurt and be hurt.

But that’s the hand that you’ve been dealt, and the only leverage you’ll be getting out of this marriage is by appealing to those desires and using your own body as a tool to keep him satiated and keep you in the best of his care.

By the time you’ve finished plaiting your hair you’ve decided that you’ve learned enough since your wedding night that you can try and use to your advantage. You’ll keep adapting and if one of the ways to win him over is at knifepoint, then so be it.

And if he wants to banish everyone from the Training Halls so he can rut into you like an animal next to a rack of knives, then fine. You can take him however he comes to you.

You try to keep all this in mind as you leave your chambers and take to the Training Halls for another lesson.

Feyd-Rautha already appears to have broken a sweat. Drills, you assume, and done alongside his men if their matching sheens are anything to go by.

Korvo’s back to train you, he says. He needed to have part of his jaw wired shut but otherwise he’s fine; he just won’t be able to talk much for a while.

And strangely enough it’s true; whatever Healer Korvo went to did an excellent job because there’s not a lot of bruising or swelling. It occurs to you that he looks a few years older than Feyd, and you can’t help but wonder what Korvo thought about the hushed rumors about the Baron’s proclivities years ago. About Feyd-Rautha, the boy who’s become the man he now serves.

As for your husband, it’s as if the past couple of nights never happened. He seems indifferent as he hands you your shield device and a knife. There’s not a trace of the quiet rage from early yesterday morning nor the cold domination of last night. Not that you were ever going to ask him, especially not with other people around, but he gives you your answer to the silent question, When are we going to talk about yesterday? The answer? Never .

He has Korvo start off slowly with you, a warm-up of sorts, movements guarded as you go over strikes and parries before taking over for the rest of your session.

You think you’re prepared for it this time as he starts to speed up, stops going through the motions and actually starts sparring with you. You tell yourself that no one’s going to catch you unawares again, but well. His training is a lot more extensive than yours. You let out a yelp, realizing yet again that you weren’t focused enough on his footwork and he’s taken the opportunity to trip you. You stumble, catching yourself just in time to avoid a fall.

“You’ve had a day to rest,” Feyd says. “There’s no reason you can’t be pushed farther.”

To rest . He was the one that told you not to come and train yesterday. You clench your jaw and strike again. If anything Feyd-Rautha seems amused by your irritation and sends you stumbling again with a swat on the backside with the flat of his knife.

You turn, incredulous and with an insult on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t strike in anger,” he says, holding back a smirk. You raise your chin and try to level your gaze at him as you try to collect yourself.

Hey, this is actually a good sign , a part of you realizes. There’s something almost close to playful in the way he’s looking at you right now. He’s already in a far better mood than he was yesterday . This is working for him.

You roll your shoulders and take a defensive stance, silently gesturing for him to strike first, and this time he actually grins.

Breakfast afterwards is its own task. You’ve gotten your appetite back this morning, but only when you forget everything except your own hunger and especially try your best to ignore the man at the head of the table. You’ll try to bury what you know about the Baron for now, or at least try to act like he doesn’t disgust you. Not that he’d care what you think of him, not like you can do anything about it.

Instead you wonder about what motherhood looks like on this planet. You’ll not want for anything, you’re sure, in terms of space for the baby and help raising it, but you hope the Baron isn’t an indicator of how children are raised here. You haven’t seen many children in the Fortress–the sons and daughters of captains and generals, you’re sure–and you haven’t interacted with any. Feyd-Rautha mentioned military and combat training for any sons you’ll have but what about general schooling?

When the children come, surely you’ll be a part of their lives somehow? You’ll make certain of it. You have to; they’ll be raised in the Harkonnen culture but they’ll still be half you , and you’ll do everything to make sure they never forget that, where you come from and the half of them that you represent.

“Not too tired from your training session, are you?” Feyd-Rautha asks, and you realize that you’ve been drifting off, staring into the distance. You hadn’t expected him to notice.

“Oh, no, husband,” you tell him. “Just lost in thought. Actually, I was curious about where one might put a nursery in the private quarters.” Not that there would’ve been any use for them within the royal family in decades, but surely there must have been something installed before?

As soon as Feyd starts to answer, the Baron interrupts, “What are you training her for?”

“Just in the event of an emergency or ambush, I want her to be prepared to defend herself. If the time ever comes that I’m not there to do it for her,” Feyd-Rautha adds.

The Baron looks at him with those beady blue eyes. “You really think such a thing will ever happen, boy?” he asks, and there’s an undercurrent to his tone that makes you look away, never mind that they’ve started talking about you as if you aren’t there.

Boy . As if not just Feyd’s title but his very manhood is a privilege his uncle bestows on him that he can revoke at a moment’s notice.

Feyd ignores the taunt. “Just planning ahead,” he says. It doesn’t come back up. When you excuse yourself to use the bathroom the Baron doesn’t react when you come back. He barely seems to notice you’re there.

To him, you are not family. You are the orifice his handsome young nephew buries himself in and the birthing canal that will add to the Harkonnen lineage, but not a real person who’s earned any familiarity with him nor will you ever be. That suits you just fine and you find that you’d rather he ignore you than pay any special attention to you, just so long as he never gets to sink his claws into your future children.

Speaking of which, “The Fortress has everything you could need,” Feyd says. “Our children will have their own quarters and plenty of staff to watch over them.”

And how about allowing me to watch over them? you want to ask, but won’t, especially since you’re not alone. Or do ladies of leisure outsource all of that here? Idrisa will know; you’ll save your real questions for her.

After breakfast Feyd-Rautha offers you his arm. “I imagine you’re interested in the relaxation chambers now?” he asks. “They provide massages. Great for the joints.”

“I could be persuaded,” you tell him, feeling not just sore from earlier this morning but from two days ago. You’d never considered yourself a lazy person but you’ve also never committed to any kind of daily training regimen and the nighttime and occasionally additional morning routines in the bedroom certainly haven’t helped.

“It’s interesting,” you tell him, “training with you and seeing how you do it, even if I’m not there for all of it.”

“That wasn’t my last training session for the day,” he says. “I’m going back soon.”

You blink. “Why?” you ask him. He’d clearly started early and gotten his heart pumping by the time you’d arrived.

“To be as physically prepared as I can for the arena showing on my birthday. It’s less than three weeks away at this point,” he says.

You look over at him with your brows furrowed. What does he really need extra preparation for? He’s in no danger, there’s no real risk.

He seems to understand your confusion. “It’s important that I look like I'm in top form,” he explains, which just presents further questions.

How will they even know what your body looks like? If it’s anything like last time, you’ll be the only fighter in the arena that’s fully dressed .

“Well, alright,” you finally. You look back at him. “So you’re going to have to get changed again into training gear, and then shower again and change again after that?”

“Yes,” he says, voice curt. “Appearance is important here.”

Yours is, certainly , you don’t tell him. But you do realize that your uncle’s still the Baron and he floats around in his suspensor chair wearing a long nightgown? If he’s ever cared about his appearance, he must’ve stopped years ago . You suppose that it’s one of many ways that Feyd’s turned out differently from him, although not the most important. It’s not for nothing that even though you have no idea how he’ll turn out as a parent–yet another thing that scares you about this–he still won’t be as bad of a parental figure as his uncle.

He looks at you for a moment and you realize that you haven’t spoken and have just enough sense to realize that giving a simpering compliment about his looks will come across as not only disingenuous but suspicious. “My apologies,” you admit. “I was just thinking about what expectations will be placed on our children.”

“Our son, although we’ll need more than one, will embody all Harkonnen core values: power, ambition, resilience, intellect. I’ll accept no less and neither will anyone else on Geidi Prime,” he says. How long has he been thinking about fatherhood, you wonder? Or is he repeating what he’s been told time and time again what the Baron wants out of him?

“And if one of our children is a daughter?” you ask, hoping that doesn’t happen. It’s bad enough to be a man on this planet.

“She’ll be expected to be gracious, discreet, and always careful and cognizant of her surroundings,” Feyd says. “She’ll be composed even under pressure and adaptable.”

You try to absorb this, wondering how much he thinks you fit that mold yourself and assuming that you come up short. “I thought the first word you were going to say was fertile ,” you tell him.

“That goes without saying,” he says. “It’ll be her greatest contribution to the family to add to its lineage.”

I think you just described my responsibilities and expectations here, you think as he escorts you to the relaxation chambers.

Before he leaves he gives you a brief kiss–a little reward, perhaps, for minding yourself. “You’re learning,” is all he says.

You’d expected the rooms to have the same austere black and gray background as the Dining Halls, the Throne Room, even the bedrooms, but whatever materials used for the doors and panels emulate the colors and patterns of cedar even though you doubt it’s real wood and the textured walls are painted a warm, pale cream. It feels like a different environment entirely, reminiscent of the women’s bathhouses on your home planet. The attendant inside recognizes you immediately, although you assume that it’s hardly a challenge. “ You can’t mistake the Na-Baroness ,” you’re sure servants tell each other, “ she’s the only one in this Fortress with hair. ”

Most of the attendants are women, and again most of them seem young, hardly more than girls.

“Welcome, Na-Baroness. We do so hope that you enjoy our accommodations,” the first attendant says, her head in a respectful decline as she curtsies. “How may we be of service today?”

When you tell her that you were hoping for a simple massage because your joints have been feeling stiff she reacts as though you’ve told her that all your bones have shattered.

“I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been in discomfort, Na-Baroness,” she says. “We’ll make sure to ease all aches and pains.”

As she guides you away and towards a private room you sense people looking at you and notice a couple of higher-ranking women in dressing robes, undoubtedly here for a bit of relaxation themselves. As soon as you look over at them, they glance away, pretending that they’re looking off into the distance. You want to stop, walk over, and introduce yourself to them ( they know who you are, though. Everyone knows that the Na-Baron just married an arranged non-Harkonnen bride from another planet ) but you don’t get the chance. Instead you tear your gaze away to follow the attendant to another room with what you must assume is a synthetic material that effectively mimics the appearance and grain pattern of wood, complete with a changing station, a table with oils and towels, and in the middle a covered massage table with a servant on either side who bow as soon as you enter.

It’s an interesting experience, to be sure. The servants attending to you are quiet and gracious, but you’re made starkly aware again of your foreignness.

Your hair confuses them, for one thing. They look at and touch it as if they’re not sure whether or not they think it’s attractive when you've spent your entire life before Geidi Prime being told that it’s beautiful. They’re gentle with you, careful when undressing you and guiding you to a massage table. When kneading oil into your sore muscles they treat you as if you’re delicate, even though they’re smaller than you are. They work silently, your own muffled moans when they work out a particularly sore spot the only sounds other than the ambient mist coming from the next room.

You wonder at first if it’s because they only speak Harkonnen and not the Imperial Standard, but as they’re getting finished one of the young women–probably not much older than you, although it’s still difficult to tell without any hair or eyebrows to better indicate her age–timidly asks, “Would the Na-Baroness like to be given stimulation as part of her massage?”

You blink, not sure you heard correctly, and raise yourself up on your elbows. “Stimulation?” you repeat, brow furrowing.

“Some people enjoy other kinds of massage as a form of relief, Na-Baroness. We’d be honored to indulge you if you prefer,” she says, looking down the moment you look up.

I’m still lost , you almost tell her before it sinks in. “Oh!” you say, the single word slipping out. The woman flinches, undoubtedly worried that she’s offended you. It’s probably why she hasn’t said a word this entire time; she has no idea how to talk to you, what you would consider appropriate or not, and would rather not speak at all than risk saying the wrong thing. You gape for a moment before managing, “No thank you. A-a normal massage is plenty.”

She bows. “Very well, Na-Baroness. Is there anything else we can do in service to you?”

You’d been curious about the other rooms but suddenly you wish for nothing more than to leave. “No thank you, not today. The massage was all I needed.”

“It was our pleasure, Na-Baroness. We are at your disposal,” the woman says, words you’ve already heard multiple times. “Let us help you redress.”

They gently wipe off any excess oil with damp washcloths and dry you off before guiding you back into your clothes as if scared they’ll hurt you, or rather, scared that you’ll say something that gets them in trouble. Even a foreign woman commands fear if she’s married to the right Harkonnen, even if she’s never going to be a true Harkonnen herself and whether they’re scared of you because of who you’re married to or also because of who you are, it makes no difference.

In spite of everything, when you get back to your quarters you realize that physically, you feel great ; better than you have since your wedding. You feel pliant and loose-limbed, your skin soft and supple. In theory it should give you all the energy you need to continue your studies of this planet and its language.

But your self-imposed Harkonnen lessons aren’t holding your attention; the grammar structure is fairly simple, and you’ve learned a few basic words and phrases (and obscenities, because you’re pretty sure that that’s most of what Feyd-Rautha grunts in your ear when he’s fucking you) and you can’t help your restlessness as you settle back in your chair.

You tap your fingertips against your desk, mind wandering to your husband, your body remembering with a throb how he feels inside you. You’re getting used to it more and more, for the most part even learning to enjoy it.

He might be coming back from his second training session soon. Maybe he’s already come back and is taking his second shower or bath of the day. Maybe you’ll ask him about his armoire, which he hasn’t opened for you since that first night, but, and you pause, thinking it over, picturing him sweaty from his training, and think, no. The armoire can wait. If you want to improve your seduction game, you can start by being the one to initiate your encounters. You can start now.

You strip again, wondering how he’ll react to you entering his chambers. Hopefully amenable to it; he probably won’t dismiss you if you come to him like this. If nothing else he has an incentive to put a baby in you, you think as you wrap yourself up in one of your robes and pad over to your bathroom.

You press your ear to the door joining your bathroom to his. The water’s running: he must be showering. You wait, heart pounding, thinking, It will be fine. Think about this morning; he seemed reasonably happy with you this morning.

You shut your eyes for a moment, take a breath, and open the door.

He’s standing in the middle of his shower, his eyes on you from the moment you step inside. He turns the water off and watches you silently, eyes falling to your robe. He must be fully aware of the fact that you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Sorry to interrupt, husband,” you say, hoping that your intuition is correct. “I was just…” bored? Interested in your company? Curious about how else you decompress after training? You swallow, fiddling with the sash of your robe.

Feyd says nothing at first as he steps out of the shower and onto the soft mat on the black granite floor. Any words you have die before they can reach your lips as he steps in closer and the height difference between you feels vaster than it’s felt before.

His eyes flicker to your robe. “Take that off,” he says.

You look him in the eye, raising your chin slightly as you unfasten the sash around your waist and brush the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor, presenting yourself for him as naked as the day you were born. The two of you stand in silence for a moment; he’s dripping wet and you’re, well…you bite your lip and hesitate before reaching out, wrist turning as you wrap a hand around him. You feel awkward in the ensuing silence, brushing your thumb over the tip of him and glancing between his face and his cock, breath catching in your throat as you see the way his gaze darkens. You open your mouth to speak but find yourself at a loss for words.

It doesn’t occur to you that he might prefer this to any polished seduction or that he likes your nerves, your earnestness. That you've come to him as if yesterday never happened and like he's a whole intact man with no buried shame. He stiffens rapidly under your touch, silently daring you to keep fondling him. You wonder if it would be worth it to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth–you’ve done it once before as a preamble to the act itself and remember every detail and lesson of it vividly–when Feyd-Rautha starts walking you backwards, backwards, until you reach his bathroom wall and you drop your hand in surprise.

“I…” you start and he silences you with a kiss, gripping the back of your head and tilting your head up to meet him. Once he has you where he wants you, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands slide down your sides, over your hips and ass, coming to the backs of your legs, nudging you forward.

“C’mon,” he says, his rasp quiet but commanding in the echoes of his bathroom. You can’t help your nervous laugh as you hop up and he catches you, hands under your thighs that he quickly wraps around his hips, holding you in place as his cock brushes against your folds, your lower belly. It’s filled out and ready and you bite your lip as you think: how to maneuver…?

You glance back up at him and his expectant gaze. Come on, pet, he seems to tell you. You’re a clever little thing, you can figure it out, and so you grip his cock again and position it at your entrance, almost laughing at how two weeks ago you’d have been hard-pressed to know exactly where it is and how to properly penetrate it.

You gasp, head falling forward as you sink down onto him and cry out as he jerks his hips up, filling you the rest of the way. It’s always such a deep ache and stretch when he buries himself in you and you’re never quite given enough time to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving and it feels like he’s so deep in you that can hardly breathe. Every time he picks a new angle to fuck you in it almost shocks you how he seems to find another way to make as though there’s no part of your insides that he hasn’t touched, and you hold onto him, trying to rock back down on him, and finding you can only really cling to him. He buries his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair and the tonic you use for it, before pausing, shifting you further onto him, and moving away from the wall. You yelp, tightening your thighs around his waist and wondering what he’ll do next, where he’ll take you.

He carries you, then, out of the bathroom and to his bed where he drops you unceremoniously on your back and following you as you go. You both grunt as he lands on top of you and pushes your legs further back towards your chest and he braces his arms on either side of your head.

It’s hard and rough and fast, your knees pushed back nearly to your shoulders that he spreads wide to make room for his own. Your cries as he pounds into your open, vulnerable body spur him on and he drops his forehead to yours, panting against your mouth. He speaks in the Imperial Standard this time when he says, “Like a little songbird, making pretty noises for me,” and brings his mouth to the juncture of your neck and jaw.

You let out a whine as he continues, his tongue flickering and then lapping at the sensitive skin like he’s done before to your cunt. You gasp and readjust your grip on his shoulders, almost stunned at the visceral reactions he can pull from just that. You’d known it was a sensitive area, had been kissed there before, but especially juxtaposed against the pounding of him inside of you it’s–it’s–

“A -aaah! ” you manage, clenching around him, barely holding on, your legs shaking as he speeds up, his mouth continuing the onslaught. The whimpers that spill out of you escalate and turn to a sharp cry as he bares his teeth and bites down.

He grunts, hips pumping, as he comes inside of you, his teeth and lips on the sensitive skin of your neck and your arms wrapped around him. He gives one final thrust for good measure before dropping his head to your neck, his breath harsh. You hold onto him for a moment as he pauses and pulls out.

Will you let me hold you again? I liked that. I liked when you rested on me and I got to pet you as if you could ever be made docile . You don’t ask, and don’t know how to. He rolls over onto his back.

“I trust that training went well, husband?” you ask instead after you catch your breath and start to come down.

He grunts an affirmative and for a moment you think that’s the end of it. He takes a breath, though, mulling over the silence between the two of you. You wait, sensing his realization that you’d like to hear more. That the two of you can have a normal conversation like a normal married couple. “Sparred with a few of my men, then a couple of criminals in the dungeons. They don’t provide as much of a challenge but it still keeps me alert to practice on someone who actually wants to kill me.”

“They weren’t sedated?” you ask.

He shakes his head, exhaling. “Not these ones. Didn’t want to contaminate their bloodstream,” he says.

You think back to over a week ago, and something Idrisa told you. “So you could safely feed them to your Darlings afterwards?” you ask.

He turns his head to you and you do the same, mirroring him. His full lips part as he mulls your words over. “Now where’d you hear about them?” he asks, clearly trying to think back to a time when he’s mentioned them to you and coming up with nothing.

“Idrisa,” you add when you don’t see any recognition in his eyes at the name, “my personal attendant, mentioned that you had pets that you fed human remains.”

This piques his interest, it seems. He rises up on one elbow, turning to his side, leaning over you. “How did she describe them?” he asks.

You shrug, not sure how that makes a difference. “She didn’t. She just said that you feed human flesh to what you called your Darlings,” you say, not bothering to hide your distaste. You’re not going to pretend to like or condone everything he does; not like it would stop him.

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes glint. He breaks into a smile that is equal parts delighted and cruel. “Is that really all she told you?” he says. He doesn’t move a millimeter, but you can sense his growing excitement coiled tight within him like he’s ready to pounce.

“So…what are they? Canine or feline? Or aquatic?” you ask, not sure if you want to know or get a more specific image but asking all the same.

Feyd-Rautha looks at you as though you’ve given him the greatest gift he didn’t even have to ask for. “Would you like to meet them?” he asks instead of answering your question.

No, of course not , you want to tell him. I have no interest in meeting a bunch of animals who devour people whole . “Sure. Why not,” you say.

His black teeth and gums are unnerving against the pallor of the rest of him before his smile turns closed-mouthed again into a smirk.

When you’ve both dressed and left his chambers, you assume that he’s going to lead you to a dungeon, but he instead starts walking down a corridor not far from the private wing.

“I’d keep them closer,” he says over his shoulder, “but they make such a mess.”

So a pool or a moat would be out of the question, but a shark tank is still feasible , you think.

He reaches a door, and the first moment you step inside and see what’s on the padded platform in front of you, you want to roll your eyes and walk back out.

So he’s taken me on a detour first to meet his concubines , you think.

Three naked, lithe, bald-headed women lie curled up sleeping, nestled against one another like a pile of kittens. You raise your eyebrows, letting out an irritated huff. You should’ve known that he keeps concubines; most leaders from Major Houses do. It’s just that he’d seemed so preoccupied with you that you’d almost forgotten that very possibility. These are the women he normally slakes his lust with and what he’ll go back to once you’ve confirmed that you’re carrying his seed. You have a snide remark on the tip of your tongue about how nice it is to meet the other women he fucks.

But then you notice that there’s blood drying on their hands, caking their sharp-nailed fingertips and you realize what the smell of the iron tang that permeated the air really is. Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s going on?” you say aloud to no answer.

The women stir, and then they open their eyes. They have neither pupils nor irises. Pure ink black, stares, unthinking, back at you.

When you first met him you’d been quick to assume that Feyd-Rautha lacked all humanity beyond his physical form, but this is what it truly looks like when a person has no human essence. You’re not sure what they’re seeing when they look at you but they perceive nothing except the sight of warm meat.

Abomination! Abomination! you think, too frozen to scream it out loud, the sound of it only coming out of you in a pitiful squeak when they start to move, clambering towards you.

Oh, Great Mother, they move like animals, on all fours . One of them opens her mouth, teeth and gums as black as her master’s but her teeth are sharpened into fangs she bares in what may be a smile, may be a snarl.

Oh, fuck this.

You turn and start to run when Feyd-Rautha holds his arm out to grab you around the chest and pull you to his side as he says something in Harkonnen that you try to grasp.

Something-something woman something-something food. Okay, that was a negation. He’s saying something like “she’s not food.” You gasp and dig your nails into his forearm, unable to look away from them, the way they tilt their heads at you.

You can hear them hiss and chatter, put out that he hasn’t presented them with a meal, and you realize that they’re speaking in neither the Imperial Standard nor Harkonnen battle-language but a vague imitation of human speech.

“What the fuck? What the fuck? ” you say aloud, struggling in Feyd-Rautha’s grip, watching as they scurry closer to the two of you, sniffing at you in particular.

You stare at the fathomless depths of their unblinking black eyes and how they tilt their heads, even their curiosity utterly fucking terrifying.

“You said you wanted to meet my Darlings,” Feyd-Rautha says in a satisfied tone. “Don’t be rude. They like you.” He says something in Harkonnen to the women that you can’t decipher, and their chattering ceases and demurs into near-purring.

One of them sniffs and nuzzles at your stomach and you flinch, wondering how quick she’d be to open her mouth and take a bite of your sensitive skin if her master allowed it. Your stomach that within a few months will swell with Feyd-Rautha’s heir. Does she understand what any of that means? Do any of them?

How naive you were, thinking that he kept animals as his pets, normal women as his concubines. How silly and childish to think that he wouldn’t be as much of a degenerate as you feared.

Just when I think I’ve adjusted to this insane planet I see something even worse.

Feyd-Rautha closes the door and directs his gaze up and down the length of your body, the tremors in your hands, your entire body shaking, in fact, and settles on your face. He says nothing, waits for you to go first.

“What…” you bring a hand to your forehead, hoping that this is a nightmare, “ are they?”

He doesn’t smirk but you can sense his satisfaction. He undoubtedly gets some entertainment out of each time he gets to introduce someone new to his Darlings, or rather, inflict his Darlings on them. He probably doesn’t get the opportunity as often as he’d like. “They’re a Bene Tleilax experiment,” he says. “They thought we might enjoy them.”

“Why would they…” commit a crime against nature like this?

“Because they can,” he says.

“Then why have them?” you ask.

He looks at you as if you’re the unreasonable one. “They already exist, and I’ve found some use for them.”

As his concubines . “So you…” you feel nauseous at the idea, barely able to say it aloud, “...fuck them?”

Your shoulders sag with relief when you he says, “No, I don’t fuck them, Y/N. They’re nice to look at but it would be akin to fucking a wild animal. They can be entertaining, though. And they’re a decent tool for intimidation.”

Entertaining . You could use hundreds of words to describe what you just saw and the wretched nature of their existence and entertaining would not be one of them.

Still, you realize what he means. His menagerie needs to eat to stay alive, and it provides incentive to stay on the Na-Baron’s good side. No one wants to end up as food. And how many men can honestly say, “ If you don’t do as I say I’m going to feed you to the trio of feral cannibal women I keep in my Fortress” ? It’s a far more unique and memorable threat than any you’ve heard.

So they’re not his concubines; you don’t believe for one moment that he’d care enough to lie to you about that, which just makes you wonder where his real concubines are. “Who were you fucking before I was assigned to you? I wasn’t your first.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips quirk up for a moment in a brief almost-smile. “There are times when people see me in the arena and want to know if I’m as much of a brute as I seem,” he says.

“Are you? With them?” You haven’t forgotten that he’s expected to be better-behaved with you than he probably would be with someone else. Someone potentially disposable.

His expression is carefully neutral as he seems to think on how much he wants to frighten you some more or how much he’ll let your own imagination do the work. “I give them what they’re looking for,” he says after a moment.

You glance back over at the door. How many people whisper about his trio of naked women the way they keep their head down about the Baron? Does that not bother him, how people who know about this undoubtedly think, If he’s willing to stick his cock into them , what else is he capable of?

“You do know that calling them your Darlings, having them naked like this–it makes it seem like you have sex with them,” you tell him.

Feyd-Rautha looks unsurprised and unmoved. “They can be sedated into being dressed sometimes. It’s just too cumbersome to try and change them every day,” he says. “Besides, people can think what they want,” he says. “I don’t care, just as long as they fear my name.”

Very Harkonnen of you , you think. “What are their names?” you ask instead.

He seems amused by the question. “Didn’t bother. They don’t need them,” he says.

You look back at the door. They can’t always have been like this, could they? “Did they not have names once? Before…this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “They won’t remember.”

You can’t help but stare at him when he says that. These were people once , you don’t need to tell him because he doesn’t care. You don’t know what to say to him; the words dry up in your throat. Here you were trying to bring out the human side to him when you get a stark reminder that for many people that side of him doesn’t exist. You try to remember how the Reverend Mother assured you that he has weaknesses that you can use, just like any other man. How he has his own, albeit twisted, moral code and sense of honor.

Count yourself lucky that it extends to you, you think.

You don’t like yourself very much when you think about it, the palpable fear he instills in everyone he thinks he can readily discard, and the fact that you’ve already decided that you’ll do your best to overlook it, for now anyways. You have yourself and your future child to look after first.

#dune part 2 #dune 2 #feyd rautha #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd x you #austin butler

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disguting-girl-reads · 8 days ago

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Mina's Favorite Wincest Fic Recs: omegaverse

it's all omega!dean and alpha!sam bc that just makes more sense in my head lmao sorry not sorry

Take a Load Off by submariner

Stories from Sam and Dean’s wet, hot, American summer (road trip).

Sometimes, he feels real bad, about what he lets Sam do. It’s dirty, and it’s wrong, and he knows it. In fact, the second time they did it, Dean got sick—so sick he thought he might be pregnant, which would have been even worse than anything else. But it passed, and so did the guilt. It’s Sammy: how bad could it be, really? Dean keeps looking over at his alpha, and Sam keeps jumping him any chance they get.

alternatively, five times Dean doesn’t come and one time he does.

Mina's note: starting with my FAVORITE. I love love love this one very deeply. we have a bunch of delicious flavors in here besides the omegaverse: weecest behind john's back, dean with a pussy (my beloved) and an unhappy ending (I mean, it's pre-series, so its not exactly the end, don't worry).

that's kinda personal, but dean not coming was very endearing to me, as an ace person that can't really get there with another person lol and that doesn't mean the sex was bad, there's various other reasons to fuck besides coming, and I like how this was explored here :)

The Bite of Knowledge by theproblematique

Omegas can tell when alphas are attracted to them. It's a survival mechanism.

After years of buildup, Dean finally realizes that Sam is attracted to him.

It's a shitshow.

Mina's note: that's the first wincest omegaverse fic I ever read, yay. It's super cute and has so much pining - which I love!. I really enjoyed the world building in this one, I never saw this thing where omegas know when alphas are into them, which is super cool.

To Sound The Depths by Pendragony

Dean has always set aside his needs, repressing his instincts for the sake of Sam. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t even know how to be an Omega any more. When the brothers pose as a couple to investigate a spate of drowned Alphas, Dean starts to get back in touch with his Omega self. But when the heat is on, will Dean still be able to protect Sam?

Mina's note: this one is also on my long wincest fic rec post. It's a case fic as well and I really like the plot (truly, that's not a joke about porn), and it's somewhat of a slow burn, which is one of my favorite things ever!!

he ain't heavy by adastreia

Castiel was gone. Dean was asleep and probably would be for the foreseeable future. Sam should probably hit the hay himself, but something felt – off. Somehow he knew there was no way he’d manage to do anything but toss and turn if he did try and go to bed. There was a thrumming under his skin that once upon a time he would’ve associated with an impending rut, but he hadn’t had one of those since his soul (mangled, taped together, falling apart) was slammed back into his body. Couldn't be a rut. It was probably stress.

Mina's note: most omegaverse fics are heat focused, so I always jump at it when I catch a hut fic!! it's sooo hot, I don't know why there's so little alpha!sam hut fics out there, the self-hate is so delicious

darling, don't put down your guns yet by scorpiod

Dean accidentally gets pregnant. They both know they should abort it.

Sam and Dean decide to keep it.

Mina's note: pregnancy fic, obviously. S7, which is such a messy season to get pregnant, with the leviathans and halluficer around, so it's like soo interesting!! the way they act towards the pregnancy seems very canonical to me, and I love pregnant dean. there's a tiny bit of lactation kink, and little flashbacks to when they were kids that are so fantastically weird and fucked up - just how they are and just how I like it.

Taste Every Fruit by thatsakitkat

There's no real words to describe how feeding Sam feels. Dean thinks it might be better than orgasms, but it's a whole different kind of pleasure, one that makes him feel sleepy and proud of himself for being able to take care of his brother this way. Everything feels right in the world, all Dean's problems taken away in the gentle pulls of Sam's mouth.

Mina's note: very interesting world building!! and so much lactation lmao dean with boobs was something I didn't know I needed

Drip by thatsakitkat

Sam chews the inside of his lip and looks down at the tampon in his fingers, taps the applicator between the webbing of his thumb and index. "I'll do it," he offers, hopes his voice is even and doesn't crack or tremble because looking at the tampon, he can picture the string hanging outside Dean's body and it's weird, what that imagery does to him.

Mina's note: TAMPON KINK!!! I mean, I'm a bit insane about this, but yeah, tampon kink, guys....

Sassy Sammy and the Slick Tits by fastandfilthy (IndridGrey)

Dean has to take parenting classes in high school like everyone else and he has been given a fake baby. The problem is, his omega hormones have been going into overdrive recently, so the fake baby's crying is enough to induce lactation in him. Teen alpha Sam gladly offers to help him out.

Mina's note: the title is so funny and crackish lmao but as the author tagged, it's not as cracky as the title makes it sound - it's actually really hot. omegaverse + lactation kink is such a good match!!

#samdean #wincest #omegaverse #omega!dean #alpha!sam #mina's fic recs

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adhd-fandom-hyperfocus · 7 months ago

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✧₊⁺ Of Fatherhood And Dreams Not Spoken ✧₊⁺

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x OC (Astraea)/ Khan is in this. It's mostly him and Roboute talking.

Author's Note: Because I'm terrible at writing a story proper. I rather just write drabbles from the overall plot I have in mind. That being said this overall plot I have named "Wisdom in the Stars". And here are some key things to note for this overarching story:

This is all very self-indulgent and I will not apologize. If the Grimdark can be extra, so can I!

Bobby G's love interest is a xenos of my making, so they are as long-lived as him, but not a perpetual.

Again mad self-indulgent. Oozing copium by the ton

Rowboat Guillotine deserves a happy life and some damn peace

So many Primarchs are going to be back in some drabbles. Again no fucks given

Proofread? Never heard of her

I like saying Roboute's name wrong as a means of affection.

Warnings: Slight nsfw at the end. Talks of pregnancy, children, and kinks of the breeding variety.

18+ ONLY

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

There were oh so many things he's done that made those words that thundered in his head in a cacophonic choir ring true. Tool. Betrayer. Theif. Why did he focus on those? Perhaps deep down he knew them to be true.

He wanted to be a good son, and he was to his parents. But to his creator? The one that called him his last hope? Even now with all that was accomplished, he wasn't so sure. An effective tool? That he was.

Oh, how that was the crux of this all now. Because something was breaking. Had been for so long. The strict need to follow His every word, every teaching to the letter had long started to crumble. To this point, he could justify it. Excuse himself. But this?

Vibrant blue eyes that had started to have a light behind them, a sign of the better times he was in, gazed down at the dataslate. The message he was reading was still open, not that he needed to read it again. The words burned into his mind. Screamed of his selfishness and brought the crippling fear he might fall like the one before him that wanted such heretical things for himself.

The wrestling of what parts of him were human had never been so hard. Basic human needs were beyond him. At least he believed that. But since his revival and she walked into his life...Why hadn't the Emperor made them machines?

His gaze moved again, this time back to the garden in which he sat, relaxing of sorts. Something he was learning to do. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not yet. She was playing with some children of her maidens. The laughter of the little ones made him impossibly light and much larger than he was.

Those sounds filled him with feelings new, but also familiar. He sounded like that when his mother played with him, and cared for him. Yes, he was a child once, despite how quick his mind grew. His mother never let that stop him from being a child in some capacity.

Yet those laughs terrified him and cast a deep shadow of guilt and shame. Not for him, never for him. A Primarch has no need for biological children, any children. He had his Astartes sons. The best of the best are forged through painful surgeries and grueling tests. Mass-produced versions of the tool they were templated from. He was a god of war, a weapon, and weapons do not need things their masters need.

Roboute scowled. When the stirrings rose up, hot and drowning him out.

"You should do it."

Roboute had been so lost in his mind he hadn't noticed Jaghatai had taken a seat next to him.

"Excuse me?" Guilliman asked. His composure not once gave a hint of how chaotic his mind was at the moment.

At first, it was as if Khan wasn't going to answer him, "Horus, would slip from time to time, about how his children would rule the stars after the crusade was done. Even when Malcador with cold words would remind him, that the only reproducing we would have were our gene-sons," Khan sighed, "You are not going to turn into the next Horus because you long for family not us, or your gene-sons. Do the procedure."

Before Roboute could ask how he knew that was on his mind, or even what he was told Jaghatai continued, "You've been watching Astraea and those kids with so much intent like you were trying to manifest something. That and you happen to want to go to the planet in their empire that is known for its advanced DNA work medical procedures on many races? Namely in the areas of conception? Please. Most of our brothers might be blind, but I and Corvus know better. You're the one who took your gene-seed sample, yes?"

Guilliman nodded, "I assume Corax is the one who found that out?"

Khan nodded, "And Cawl, they handled it. So do it. You out of all of us, always thought of a galaxy at peace, or the closest to it. You never lived for the hunt, the fight, but the peace. You fought for peace over thrill and power. So take this. You are not Horus. You are not weaker. I think we are all starting to wake up in a sense. It is...uncomfortable. But perhaps, we are more than the sum of our creation?"

"I hope so." was all Roboute could say.

༺═──────────────═༻

This, out of everything was what he loved now that the galaxy wasn't on the verge of ending. Laying in bed with Astraea while a fire burns gently. Her soft hums lull him into comfort and bliss. Large fingers drew little circles over her belly, as his mind offered him images of her heavy with their children. How, as much as he hated the word, divine she would look. Oh, how he would worship her. A goddess in her own right. a living one who brought life into the world. Life she deemed him worthy of creating with her.

His mind continued with the future it was offering. How she would waddle about and rely on him to help her stand, or lean against when walking took everything. Her trying to ride him when is looks so ready to pop. How he would fuck her like he could put another one in her before the first child is born. Her already beautifully full breasts, engorged and heavy with milk.

Roboute blushed when he felt himself pushing against her. He craved it so bad, despite how much it scared him.

"Roboute?" Astraea hummed looking over her shoulder with an impish grin, "And here I thought you were tired."

She kissed his chin, as she turned to face him, hands roaming over his strong broad chest, before gliding down to his erection.

He could smell it, she was already aroused. Oh, how she melted for him so easily. But he was the same for her. There were some days he had to force himself away from her for a bit, worried all he would do is fuck her until they both were raw and overtaken by the ruinous powers.

"Would you want children?" Roboute asked, between his heated breaths and needy kisses.

Astraea looked at him a bit surprised, and yet like she half expected this, "I thought we had to wait on even marrying, let alone speak of family. But of course I want children. You know this." she replied.

He did. But he still wanted to ask, as if her mind had suddenly changed.

"Good," he smiled rolling on top of her, holding himself up on his knees, which were on each side, "Then we should get some more practice in."

He leaned down and nipped at her ear, as a hand moved over her breasts and down to her hot core, "For once the procedure is done, you are not leaving my side and bed until it sticks."

This might be the single most selfish thing he would do, but he wouldn't regret it. He wanted to feel human, to understand all that he had been fighting to protect for all these long years.

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #primarch x oc #warhammer 40k x oc #roboute guilliman #roboute guilliman x oc #warhammer fanfic #roboute guilliman fanfic #Amon writes #Wisdom in the Stars story

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lovelykhaleesiii · 2 years ago

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Merhaba!

If you feel uncomfortable, you can delete this request!

Warning: non-con, toxic behavior, baby trapping?

Request here! for a modern dark!aegon, where the reader has been his friend for a long time and aegon has a horrible dependency on her, as well as an obsession and mostly never lets anyone near her, since he sees her as his, anyway, the reader one day tells him she is accepted for a scholarship in another country but he gets mad because she is going to leave him so he forces her to have sex with him and also hopes to get her pregnant so she will never leave him.

you’re so cute nonnie!!!!! this is totally fine, I don’t normally write for non-con, but I’ll let this slide cause it’s kinda hot 🥵 I’m combining it with this ask, and leaning more towards a dub-con, manipulation tactic of dark!Aegon!!! hope you enjoy xx

quote in the link above is - "gentle, slow manipulation - "just a kiss" to "I'll only grind against you" to "only the tip, promise" to "just a little more" to "I won't cum inside" until you're a cum-filled wreck underneath them."

Dilemmas & Dreams.

PAIRING: Dark!Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 4,179.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, co-dependency, somnophilia, dub-con, slight mentions of non-con, mentions of pregnancy, time jumps.

A/N - so this took me forever cause it was a hard concept to plot. tried to make it more dub-con/non-con but still slightly consensual, just because I do not condone using violence for sex. but dark!Aeg is just my intrusive thots. I also did not include my taglists, just cause I did not want to trigger or force anyone to feel the need to read this, if it isn't your thing <3 no pressure. this is for a specific audience.

It was an universal understanding that relationships could get complicated from time to time, to say at the very least... This did not cease with your unique relationship with Aegon.

With every fibre in your heart, you love him dearly, and that [if you were being honest], would never change. He generally was not the ideal type of man you'd pursue [as you had initially assumed] nor did you think it was even a realistic possibility to fall for his type. Likewise, you did no think of yourself as his particular type, although Aegon was less picky than you when it came to finding a mate. Yet he had this almost omnipotent-like power over you. Luring you farther and deep enough, he kept you eagerly lingering for more: for more of his touch, his scent, his love and affections. An urge you attempted countless of times to keep silenced and at bay, and yet you felt the constant, probing need to keep the man sated.

With many of your short, previous relationships, you'd never granted a man the opportunity to bear such a profound effect on you, nor did any of them truly possess the charisma Aegon had naturally wielded. It was all very consuming and perplexing, yet a part of you quite enjoyed the crisp attention Aegon showered you with in return for your loyalty and commitment to him. Your long-time warfare of constantly seeking approval and praise did not help the situation either, only exploiting your vulnerability more, as you vowed to refuse disappointing the man at all costs.

And from what you had learnt and could decipher about Aegon's history, he had never grown this infatuated with another before, let alone actually granted himself the opportunity to have a significant other. His previous flings had been fleeting and meaningless, only to glutton himself off of sex, inflating his subtle ego. However, you, you had caught him off-guard. A fellow colleague and long-time friend of Aemond's, you had met mutually. You knew of each other, though had never truly met, for Aemond was desperate to keep some distance between yourself and his elder brother. He had mentioned many things about Aegon, not all good, yet you knew better than to judge or presume. In theory, you were both quite the opposites, yet something about you, your innocence, warm demeanour drew him to you, like a moth to a flame. From the many family quarrels Aemond had disclosed to you, it seemed Aegon was problematic with some sort of self-conflict from within. He struggled with certain tendencies such as drinking, partying, avoiding responsibilities, yet nonetheless, he was still pretty decent and respectful towards you. Helplessly though, you felt an immense pity for him, even if Aemond argued against it, perhaps it was your nativity: regardless, the more Aegon latched himself closer towards you, the better he became. More present at home, the less he drank and spent his days hungover and pissed, the less hostile he was towards his family.

Although, he remained a pest towards his younger brothers, Aemond and Daeron, occasionally taunting them. Not to mention, he did go against Aemond's urges to leave you alone.

"Aeg, Y/N's off limits. I have never asked of anything from you, nor have I ever really expected anything from you, if I'm being honest. But, I digress, she is off limits. Understood?"

"Why, have you finally grown the balls to actually ask her out? Or you scared she'll actually say yes to the likes of me?"

"OFF LIMITS Aeg! I fucking mean it!"

"No, no- How about I date Y/N instead, and in return I leave you alone? See now that sounds like an even better deal to me, brother."

Not to mention, you were undeniably a sight for sore eyes, beautiful nonetheless, he was determined to have you. The thought that someone else could pluck you from him at any given second, not excluding his younger brother, began to stir something rageful inside of him. The more time he spent around you, the more possessive he could feel himself becoming. A side he did not fathom existed in him, yet you had so ignorantly ignited. Although, he relished in it. Eventually, and much to Aemond's reluctance he inserted himself into your conversations, making his presence known whenever you were around, or forcing his younger brother to exploit your whereabouts with threats only each brother knew about one another. Regardless, his tactics worked and eventually, you became his. His.

Since then all had been bliss, yet, now, you were struck with a dilemma...

****

"What do you mean you could be moving, Y/N? Is this a few weeks kinda thing or you're gone... For good?" Aegon raised, his voice growing audibly louder with such a ferocity, you'd never heard the likes of it before.

"W-Well it's a scholarship, Aeg. One that I honestly never even thought possible to get, I-I just applied off a whim. B-But now that they're offering it, maybe, just maybe, I was hoping you could support me."

The words fell shaky from your quivering lips; Aegon's face was struck with a blatant concoction of confusion, hurt and fury, like a wounded predator that had unforeseen a counter attack.

"Just answer me this, Y/N, how long exactly will you be gone for? How long are you planning to leave me?"

He took a great stride towards you, his hands reaching over, tightly gripping your forearms by the sides, as if in fear you might run at any minute. His voice although stern and unnerving, his lilac eyes glistened tearily.

"It-It's a funded Masters course, Aeg, just for two years I'll be studying abroad. B-But I'll plan to come back to see you whenever I can. Every holiday, every semester's break, you bet I'm coming back to you. A-And you could even come and see me, baby. You know, I-I would never leave you like that, Aeg, you know this, p-please-"

An eerie silence was all that you were met with, as Aegon's grip on you had loosened slowly. His face remained stoic, yet his teary eyes flickered, before he began to dauntingly nod his head, walking away from you towards the closed window of your apartment. You could hear sniffles, before he released a long, exhausted sigh as he looked onwards to the scenery outside.

"So this is how you disregard me, huh, Y/N? Is this how you see me, see us? Just something you can toss to the fucking side, once you find something a little more interesting to chase after?"

His harsh words stung like the venom of a viper. Now turned back towards you, his hardened gaze was chilling, almost even threatening. You felt somewhat fearful of Aegon at this very exact moment, although he would never hurt you, that you were certain of. He was often stubborn and hot-tempered though knew to control himself swiftly. Reassured by this, you simultaneously also felt the desperate urge to coddle and soothe his fears, vouching that you could nor would ever dispose of him like some piece of garbage.

"A-Aeg, never! That's not me, please! You are overthinking this, Aegon, you'-re-you're not thinking straight, my love. I-I know this can be overwhelming but t-try to understand me. Please-"

Taking a small step towards him, you came to a sudden halt, as he took a step back maintaining the distance between. His hand lifting mid way as if to signal you to stop, swatting you away.

"So now my feelings aren't valid? Fuck, Y/N... You really are starting to sound like a real, spoilt little bitch now. Just like the rest of them fucking sluts!"

Seating himself promptly down onto the bed, he ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, his head facing towards the ground, as another defeated sigh escaped his lips once more. It was only when he resumed his sole attention back unto your frozen frame, did he stupidly realise that now he had really crossed the line.

"Get out," Your voice although quiet just above a whisper, was crisp.

"Y/N-Baby-I-I didn't mean that-"

"Out, Aegon!"

A tightness in your chest began to intensify, a hand falling over your left, clothed breast, as your breathing began to hasten into loud, hitched sobs. Your eyes darted mindlessly around the room, feeling as though the walls began to close in, a sense of claustrophobia that you'd never feared nor experienced before brewing. Your cheeks turning scarlet by the seconds, as your eyes began to fill with hot tears, streaking down your tender face. Cowering down your other free hand, was poorly attempting to grab at anything solid enough to keep you upright, although Aegon bounding over towards you, reached over, lending you a spare chair, guiding your shaking body over to sit, as he cowered down in front of you.

"Y/N, Y/N, my angel, baby please- I-I didn't mean that, I-I could never mean that. I'm just so-just so upset that you-you didn't tell me about this. You-You always tell me everything. What would I do without you, huh, my sweet girl?-"

Brushing a strand of your hair aside, his other free hand cupping your hot, blushed cheek, his thumb stroking away a freshly fallen tear.

"H-How could I live without you for two years, if I can't even bear an evening without you?"

And yet no response other than earning heart-aching sobs from your behalf. Seeing you in such a distraught, unconsolable state only in turn tormented Aegon, as the tears that he had once so proudly held back, now began to streak across his soft, handsome face.

"B-Baby, please. Please, say something. I-I'm so sorry, don't-don't hate me. I couldn't bear it-"

"Ugh- Just fuck off, Aegon!-" Wailing his arms off you, you shove him off, as you stand hastily, storming aside, creating that deliberate distance in between once again. Aegon slowly rises himself up, that familiar hurt look tinged across his disheartened face, he roughly wipes the tears off his eyes, leaving them puffy and red.

"Sorry? Sorry about what exactly, Aeg? Sorry, that you can't just be an adult for one second, and accept the fact that some of us have priorities in our lives other than being in a fucking relationship? To think that you could be mature about this, how foolish of me..."

"Y/N, I-"

"Don't, Aeg! Don't even bother explaining yourself... I think it's best that you just leave me to decide."

Brazenly interrupting him before he could utter another word, your hand meekly gestures towards the door to your apartment. You couldn't even find the stamina to look Aegon dead in the eyes, fearful that any tender look from his part, you'd crumble once more in a second.

Seeing how riled up and tense you were, Aegon reluctantly began to pace himself towards the door, taking his time before a firm hand reached, gripping the metal knob of the door. The door opening as he unlocked the entry, he came to a sudden stop, turning back momentarily staring at you, tempted to say something. However, just as his attention panned across to you, your focus from him shifted elsewhere, fleeting from a window to the floor, desperate not to look directly at him. Sensing your message, he remained quiet as he left the premises, firmly shutting the door behind.

As the pain-staking silence fell once more, the intensity of the situation felt magnitude that very second Aegon had left. Feeling weak in your knees, your walked back over towards your bed, laying yourself down, burying your tearful face into a pillow, as the sobs returned, only now muffled. Your mind was racing rapidly. Regardless of what had unfolded, you cared deeply for Aegon and knew that it wounded him immensely that you hadn't involved him in your decision, prior to making such a life-changing commitment. It was his life too, that you toyed with, and a deep, integral part of you felt somewhat guilty.

Although, the ugly side of Aegon had showed, and it scarred you bitterly. Would he act and lash out like this at every chance something major would come? Was it a flaw of his, that you were willing to accept and embrace? You had no certainty. The fleeting minutes became hours into the night, as you laid still in bed, empty of tears, eyes stinging, your pillow soaked and face flustered, before you'd gradually began to fall into a deep sleep. Exhausted by the day's mishaps, you were hopeful the new day would offer some consolation...

****

Whether you had been dreaming vividly enough to be stirred awake, you could not say. Although, Aegon was on your mind as you drifted off to sleep, remaining in your dreams and as you slightly woke, too tiresome to remember the details of the events in the long hours prior. You felt something heavy, yet awfully familiar, the musky scent, pressing against your body.

Followed by a soft "shush-ing", you instantly recognised the deep, low tone that belonged to your boyfriend's manly voice.

"It's just me, baby. Go back to sleep. I couldn't leave you all alone like this."

"Hmm, Aeg-" Was all that you could pathetically muster, before returning readjusting your head on the pillow. It wasn't uncommon for Aegon to find himself in your apartment after hours or even whilst you were still out during the day, for you did offer him keys, and came home to find him lounging around as if it was his own home. You trusted him enough to share a copy, and up until now, he had been loyal not to abuse his right, thus, this reoccurrence had never startled you.

"That's right, my sweet girl. It's just me... I'm going to fix everything, okay?"

Unlike how sinister and brooding his tone with you was just hours ago, you now felt comforted and safe, hearing that familiar, saintly tone of his. Like a lullaby it ushered you back to sleep, as you felt a small, wet kiss planted on your forehead, as he brushed the astray strands off your face, taking a few moments to gaze upon you lustfully, before stirring himself up.

Feeling the mattress beneath move, you sensed that he was now positioned on his knees, hovering above you, as each leg pinned to either sides of your upper thighs, faintly hearing a metal clanging, as he unbuckled his belt and zipper. You remained laying comfortably on your stomach, your back facing him, your face turned to the side against the plush pillow, he could see you just faintly nodding against his words in agreement. It earned a soft smile from Aegon, as he pulled his pants down enough, laying over you, as his bare, hard cock began to grind against the thin fabric of your dress, just between your ass cheeks. Just from the sheer action, you could feel some wetness stirring beneath, a visceral reaction Aegon found so easily he could induce from you.

"Only the tip, baby... I promise. I'm going to make it up to you, my sweet, sweet angel."

Sensually lifting your dress up, he lightly lifted you, turning you slightly to the side with one arm, just enough for him to pull your panties down: planting you back gently, as to not startle you completely awake.

"My good, good girl. Always doing so well for me, not like anyone else...I was such a dick to you, wasn't I, baby?"

Earning another simple nod, he resumed with grazing his cock over your sensitive skin, feeling its pulsating throbs against your cheeks.

"But my princess, did do something very naughty... Trying to leave me, without asking. Leaving me all alone, you know how upset that would make me, right baby?"

"Hmm-Aeg-"

"But look at you begging for me...Now what makes you think you could leave me so easily, then? Precious girl, didn't think this through, did she?"

Gradually, his firm, thick cock slowly began to push itself deeper and deeper between your thighs, as one, strong arm stretched over your side to keep him steady, the other manoeuvred your legs, spreading them wide enough for him to position himself right between your centre.

"Don't worry, Princess. I'm here now, I'm going to help you make this decision, like a good boyfriend. Wouldn't want you to overthink anything, now let me take care of you... I promise I won't go in deeper, I won't cum inside."

Feeling your eyes naturally flutter from reality and dream, as you felt a lightening pain course through your body from the sensitive spot below. Aegon had forced himself in, your walls stretching as wide as possible to accomodate for his dense, throbbing mass, you could feel yourself tightly clenching over him, rewarded by deep, growling grunts and moans from him.

"Fuck, baby. Always know how fucking good to make me feel...Now why would you ruin it, and do something so stupid? Have I been so cruel, you wish to leave me?"

"N-No Aeg-" You'd managed to softly whimper, stirring even more awake, although eyes remained firmly shut, as you arched yourself in response to Aegon's slowly paced thrusts.

"Are you bored with Aeg, that you want to leave me?"

"No."

"Have I frightened you so, you wish to run away far from me?"

Within that split second he'd uttered those words, that familiar, daunting tone returned to him, and you felt your heart begin to beat feverishly.

"I-I love you Aeg."

Now his thrusts began to hasten in response to your words, his grunts primal and louder.

"Say it again, I'm struggling to believe you. You tried to deceive me today, angel. That was cruel of you...Say it again."

"I love you, Aegon."

This time more awake and conscious of what was going on, you were too deeply saturated in being sated by Aegon in the moment. You couldn't muster a single ounce of dignity nor sanity at this very moment to stop him in his tracks, knowing what he was capable of, he had all the power in his court.

"P-Pull out, Aeg-"

Your wetness now greatly coating his deep, hefty cock, feeling the mess beginning to ooze and seep from the edges of your entrance down your thighs. As he pulled out slightly and with his help, he turned you over, now both of you facing one another, although this time, managing to maintain complete and utter focus. Resuming to his sloppy, rough thrusts, you could feel the intensity of his cock, determined to push and shove himself as deep as possible, the tip of his cock just striking that sweet, sensitive spot of your cervix.

Aegon's face lowered down towards yours, as his ample, moist lips lingered over yours. Momentarily, just grazing above one another, before plummeting down on yours, as he noticed your lips beginning to stir to speak, desperate to shut you before you could ask once more. His tongue forced it way into yours, swirling and occupying your own: this unexplainable control that he had over you, now once more overtaking you. In the moments that Aegon had left, although maddened by his words, you had missed him. Could his brutal words bear truth, that two years without seeing him, would be impossible?

"Now, why would I do that? I promised you I would help, that's what I'm going to do. I'm doing this all for us."

His lips now trailing along your jawline down to the crook of your neck, where he knew you had a weak, sensitive spot that made you close to thoughtless. You could feel a upturn smirk strewed across his face, against your skin. Regardless, you could not surmise his intention, far too deep in devious, lustful thoughts, you needed Aegon to sate you completely.

"A-Aeg-"

Within a few more long, taunting minutes as Aegon edged you on, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling his warm, dense seed filling you up, it was a feeling unlike the many, intimate times before. You both were often proactive in protection, and yet tonight, although different, it was somewhat sublime.

"That's my good, perfect girl, that's it. Did so fucking well. I need you to stay put like this for me, okay?"

Regardless, that his fill had drenched you inside, Aegon remained buried deeply inside. Somehow, managing to turn you once more to the side, as he laid himself cosily behind you, thick, muscular arms holding you tenderly from behind, as his cock remained sorely stretching yet pleasantly coaxing you inside.

"Hush now baby, my good, sweet princess. How could I ever let you go so easily, huh? What kind of a man would I be to let his girl leave like that?-"

His hot, breathless words felt soothing as he whispered against your ears, his free hand atop, once more fixing the sweat-infused tangled strands away from your heated face. Leaving a few pecks of kisses against your dewy skin.

"Now promise to get some rest for me, angel. I need you strong for my little surprise."

****

Had you known what was to follow in the early months to come, the significance of Aegon's cryptic gesture following the sex that night. How his large, rough hand found it's way over to your lower abdomen, lightly caressing it in a circular motion, something he'd never normally done before, although not unquestionable at the time... Upon awaking early that morning, Aegon explained his surprise visit during the night, grieving over the sheer thought of losing you was enough to make the man cry once more, profusely apologising for the poisonous words he'd spat upon you. He refused to leave your side, and you knew you could not stop him. Nonetheless, he was well-intentioned, and you forgave him, allowing him to spend many more nights and days to come. Too preoccupied with the decision to be made, as Aegon kept pestering you for advice and discussion, you'd forgotten the whole notion of birth control, and only remembered a few days after. Regardless, the love making did not cease, as Aegon persuaded you that he wished to spend as many hours with you, "in case you decide to leave, I need to cherish every moment with you." Poetic of him, although, his agenda was far more conniving.

****

"Aeg- I'm, I'm pregnant."

The words were as sweet as honey to his sly ears: he did not lash out nor did he act upset nor surprised. In fact, unlike the momentous news you'd dropped before regarding the scholarship, this did not seem to phase him, not in the slightest.

You both rarely spoke of the thought of having children together, being both still quite young in age, and knowing that Aegon's youth was not one he favoured, regardless, he remained pleasantly optimistic upon hearing the news.

"Baby, this is good- This is wonderful."

"B-But what about the scholarship, what do I do?"

Cupping your tender, shocked face in his hands, his reassuring smile offered you some ease, though not enough. A child, an actual child. You hadn't really comprehended the notion of motherhood, nor did you completely go against it.

"Y/N, this-" One hand now stroking the same spot on your lower stomach, now a slight swell present, as he did those many nights ago. It all clicked now.

"This happened for a reason, you can't deny us this. Our own little baby, Y/N, we can have our own little family, sweetie. I promise I'll take care of us, all of us. You can't be stressing about some scholarship now..."

"But Aeg, I really did want it."

"So you-you want the scholarship, more than a family? More than making me happy or yourself? I thought you would be okay with this."

"I-Of course Aeg, I would love to have a family with you, only you now that I'm being honest. But I just always thought in due time, I-"

"Now's the time baby... This happened to us for a reason. Maybe the scholarship wasn't meant to be. Maybe something else will come along, they're always giving out scholarships, babe. If they offered it to you before, they'll offer it again. How could they deny you?"

His words sweet, and reaffirming. It was true, there were endless opportunities to apply for degrees and scholarships throughout the years. And it seemed Aegon, was extremely on board with the idea of becoming a father. Knowing how far he'd come from the rebellious boy he'd once been, stammering into the house late at night as Aemond and you remained studying endlessly, to the confident man he was now, was astounding. His dear mother, Alicent, even knew it, and thanked you deeply, for years she had been aimlessly trying to better her eldest.

"You are making all this possible for me, Y/N. Things I never dreamt to be or the person I'd become, you are the sole reason for my happiness. And now with this baby, I feel I could conquer the world."

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