#and their shared disaster girlfriend

[mxalmighty]

venting through Birdie about my insomnia at the twins' expense

[fear-is-truth]

the heffleys are still coming to terms with the fact that you, rodrick’s cool girlfriend, are a real part of his life. greg, for one, can’t wrap his head around it—how did his brother manage to land someone like you? he even has a tiny crush on you, which he tries (and fails) to hide. during playdates, he and rowley keep sneaking wide-eyed glances at you, pretending to be fully focused on video games whenever you catch them staring.

susan, on the other hand, is thrilled to have you around. as a mom of three boys, she’s practically adopted you as her honorary daughter, showering you with warmth and enthusiasm every time you’re over. she’ll share every childhood story she can think of about rodrick—some endearing, most embarrassing—while he sits there mortified. she’ll even drag out the family photo albums when you’re around, cooing over old pictures of baby rodrick in onesies covered with embarrassing slogans.

then there’s mr. heffley, who’s suspiciously nice to you. he goes out of his way to make sure that sure the house is spotless when you come over, almost like he’s worried you’ll wise up to what a disaster rodrick can be and leave. every time rodrick says something dumb, mr. heffley’s shoulders tense, and he sneaks glances at you, hoping you don’t suddenly see you’re too good for his son.

and manny… well, you do your best to steer clear of that kid whenever you can.

it’s a typical dinner at the heffleys’. you’re seated next to rodrick, his hand resting on your knee under the table as he gives you a lopsided grin between bites. across from you, greg keeps sneaking glances at your chest. little perv.

once everyone’s settled with their plates, susan clears her throat, leaning forward with a bright, overly cheerful smile. “y/n,” she starts, clasping her hands like she’s about to impart some life-changing advice, “it’s just wonderful that you and rodrick are so… close.” she gives an small, knowing nod, and rodrick stiffens next to you.

“it’s very important,” she continues, picking up a carrot stick and an onion ring, “for young people in a… special relationship to be, you know…” she pauses, clearly hunting for the most embarrassing words possible, before adding, “prepared for close situations.” she looks at you and then at rodrick, before doing a little… mime with the carrot and onion ring. greg yelps, “MOM!” and pretends to gag, slapping both hands over his face like he’s been scarred for life. mr. heffley chokes on his mashed potatoes, reaching for his water with wide eyes.

“just remember,” she says, completely oblivious to the horror around her, “things can get… spicy, but a smart girl like you knows to have… protection.” she gives another exaggerated nod, waving her “lesson” props before setting them down, satisfied. rodrick’s hand tightens on your knee, and he mutters, “oh my god, kill me now,” through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool despite the absolute humiliation.

mr. heffley takes a deep breath, giving you a look that says he really hopes you won’t dump rodrick over this—but he’d totally understand if you did.

[nomaishuttle]

im also nicer to hal i think. not like Yaah i bully my sibling hardcore. but me and ny sibling make jabs at eachother All da time lol. they esp make jabs at me soososo much. like funny ones. Not physical ones thatd be crazy. yesh when me and y sibling havg out we beat the shit iut of eachother its awwsome

[5sospenguinqueen]

Feels Like Sabotage | Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge. 

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury 

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

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#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull. 

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow. 

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?” 

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead. 

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror. 

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.” 

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left. 

#2 Daniel Ricciardo 

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down. 

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier. 

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.” 

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her. 

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head. 

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!” 

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!” 

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them. 

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!” 

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian. 

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.” 

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media. 

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.” 

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car. 

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference. 

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground. 

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage. 

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering. 

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?” 

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile. 

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling. 

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.” 

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye. 

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne. 

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose. 

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.” 

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye. 

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly. 

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?” 

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.” 

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless. 

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.” 

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend. 

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite. 

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.” 

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout. 

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her. 

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?” 

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver. 

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice 

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation. 

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.” 

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max. 

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

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A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[starsofang]

johnny has always been able to read simon like the back of his hand. even without simon voicing it, johnny knows what he thinks and feels, sometimes before he even realizes.

so when a new bird catches simon’s eye, of course he decides to play wingman. simon’s too awkward and intimidating for his own good. it’d be a recipe for disaster, having him woo you all on his own.

that’s where johnny comes in, all charm and wit, gently guiding you in the direction of simon through shared conversation while simon stands beside him.

it works, surprisingly. you fall for it so easily. shy and sweet around simon, full of glowing light to brighten up the shadows that swirled around his aura, shooing them away.

johnny proves to be a great wingman when eventually over a period of time of him consistently worming into chats with you, spouting praises about his lovely best friend simon, you finally become simon’s girlfriend.

it’s a shame that in the process, johnny fell for you, too.

good thing simon doesn’t mind sharing with johnny.

[the-offside-rule]

Patricio O'Ward (Arrow McLaren) - Taste Of Home

Requested: yes

Prompt: Y/n is the youngest Leclerc and is missing home so Pato brings home to her

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Y/n sighed as she leaned back on the couch in the house she now shared with her boyfriend, Pato. It had been an exciting move, leaving behind her life in Monaco to support Pato in his IndyCar career, but tonight, the homesickness gnawed at her more than usual. The city was bustling, yet felt so different from the cozy streets of Monte Carlo, and she missed the warmth of home, the chatter of her brothers, and the comfort of her mother’s cooking. Pato turned his attention away from the TV as he heard his girlfriend moving beside him, noticing the way she was staring blankly at her laptop, her mind far away.

“You okay, mi amor?” Pato asked, his hand strokingher knee. His dark eyes were full of concern. “Yeah, I’m fine." Y/n smiled softly, though her tone betrayed her. "Just missing home tonight, I guess." Pato shifted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "What do you miss most? Besides Charles making fun of you?" Y/n chuckled at that, leaning her head on Pato's shoulder. “Everything, really. Charles, Lorenzo, Arthur. My mom's carbonara, and just being surrounded by family. It was weird being the youngest sometimes, but they always made me feel you know, like I belonged.” Pato's soft smile turned to a flat line, thinking of what he could do.

“Tell me a story,” Pato suggested, wanting to cheer her up. “About you and your brothers.” She thought for a moment, her face softening as memories surfaced. “Okay, I’ve got one. So, when I was about seven, Charles and Arthur thought it’d be funny to teach me how to ride a bike. But they didn’t tell me how to brake properly." Pato laughed. "That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

“Oh, it was." Y/n nodded with a smile. "I rode straight into our neighbor’s garden and crashed into her rose bushes. I was crying, covered in thorns, and instead of comforting me, Charles was laughing so hard he was practically rolling on the floor. Arthur was trying to hide so he wouldn’t get in trouble. But Lorenzo, being the responsible big brother, came and pulled me out of the bushes, all while giving Charles and Arthur a lecture.” Pato shook his head with a grin. “So Charles was always a troublemaker?”

“Always.” Y/n confirmed with a fond laugh. “But he had his moments where he was sweet too. He’s protective, you know? When I went to my first school dance, he grilled the poor boy who asked me to be his date. Charles practically had the poor guy sweating.” Pato laughed louder this time. "Yeah, that sounds like him. Protective older brother mode.” Y/n had loosened up a bit, reminiscing on the past she had in Monaco. “Yep. And Arthur’s no better. Honestly, they all think I need constant watching.” Y/n yawned softly, her tiredness creeping in after a long day at university. “I miss them, though.”

“I know you do.” Pato said, kissing her temple softly. "You should get some rest. It's been a long day, amor." Y/n looked at the time on her laptop. "Yeah, I think I will.” Y/n stood up, stretching. “I’ll head to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.” Pato smiled as she leaned down and placed a delicate kiss onto his lips. “Goodnight, mi amor. I love you.”

“Love you too, Pato.” Y/n smiled before turning and heading for the stairs. As soon as the door closed, Pato pulled out his phone, an idea sparking in his mind. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Charles’ number and sent a message.

Pato Hey man, quick question. Y/n’s feeling really homesick tonight and I was thinking… can you send me your family’s carbonara recipe? I want to surprise her tomorrow.

Pato stared at his phone, unsure if Charles would respond quickly. But within moments, his screen lit up with a reply.

Charles Hey, mate. Of course, I’ll send it over. You trying to impress my sister with your cooking? 😂

Pato Haha, yeah, something like that. She told me she misses your mom’s carbonara, so I thought it might help.

Charles Give me a second, I’ll write it down for you.

A minute later, Charles sent over a series of detailed instructions, with a few extra tips for making sure the dish turned out just right. Pato read through the messages carefully, determined to get it perfect.

Charles And don’t overcook the pasta! I swear, if you serve it mushy, Y/n will never let you live it down.

Pato Haha, I’ll do my best. Thanks, man.

With the recipe in hand, Pato felt a surge of excitement. He could picture Y/n’s face lighting up when she came home to find a taste of Monaco waiting for her.

The next day, after Y/n left for her morning classes, Pato got to work. He drove to the store, carefully selecting only the best ingredients for the pasta dish. He came home, cleaned up a bit and set to work cooking. No one said it would be easy and it certainly wasn't for such a simple dish. He followed Charles’ recipe to the letter, carefully whisking the eggs and cheese together, cooking the pancetta until it was crisp, and boiling the pasta to al dente perfection. His kitchen was soon filled with the comforting smell of home-cooked food, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for pulling it off. Pato had managed to spill sowm egg here and there, a bit of sliced guanciale on the floor (nothing Norbi couldn't help with), but he got there. He had done it. He had to admit, he ate a bowl or two whilst waiting for Y/n to get back.

Just as he was plating the carbonara, he heard the front door open. Y/n walked in, looking exhausted but surprised when she caught the scent wafting through the apartment. “Oh that smells delicious! Pato, what are you cooking?” She asked, setting her bag down. Pato turned to her with a grin, holding up two plates of the golden, creamy pasta. “Surprise! I made your family’s carbonara.” Her eyes widened, and her heart melted instantly. “You what?”

“I called Charles and got the recipe,” Pato explained, walking over to hand her a plate. “I know you’ve been homesick, and I wanted to bring a little bit of home here for you.” Y/n stared at him, her eyes soft with emotion. “Pato this is amazing. You didn’t have to do all this.” She smiled, her hand caressing his cheek. “I wanted to,” Pato said, his voice gentle. “You mean the world to me, Y/n. I want you to feel at home, even here.” She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and took a bite. “This is perfect,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “It tastes just like home.” Pato sat down beside her, watching as she ate with a soft smile. “I’m glad you like it.” Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Pato whispered, feeling a wave of warmth and contentment wash over him. He’d brought a piece of Monaco to Miami, and in that moment, it felt like home; because Y/n was with him.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Dummfucks of the Grid

word count: 760

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: After a disappointing P6 finish at the São Paulo Grand Prix, Lando Norris finds comfort in his girlfriend Y/n's fierce support as she playfully criticizes the other drivers and team principals

______________________________________________________________

As the door to Lando’s driver’s room closed, the noise of the paddock celebrations faded into the background. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, feeling the weight of finishing P6 after a race that had promised so much more. The disappointment was palpable, especially with Max winning again.

Y/n moved swiftly to sit beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Hey, Lando, P6 isn’t the end of the world. You gave it your all out there.”

He sighed, his frustration evident. “Yeah, but I wanted to do better. With Max winning again, it feels like I keep falling short.”

“Falling short?” she echoed, shaking her head. “You didn’t just fall short; you navigated a field of absolute clowns out there! Let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Care to elaborate?”

“Okay, first off, Max. He drives like he’s playing Mario Kart and thinks he can just take everyone out with a blue shell! I mean, does he not understand that sharing the track is part of the job? It’s like he thinks he’s invincible! It’s ridiculous!”

He chuckled, a small smile breaking through. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“And then there’s George Russell, who finished P4 today. Honestly, he acts like he’s the golden child of the grid. ‘Look at me, I’m so talented, watch me throw my weight around!’ It’s like he forgets he has to race, not just pose for the cameras. Every time he gets near you, it’s like he’s trying to play bumper cars!”

“True,” Lando said, laughing harder now. “I can feel the ego swelling every time I see him.”

“And don’t even get me started on Leclerc! He’s out there racing like he’s auditioning for the role of ‘Most Likely to Crash Into a Wall.’ It’s like he has a special talent for making the race more dramatic than it needs to be. How does he always manage to be on the brink of disaster and still finish? Is it a gift or a curse?”

Lando nodded, now thoroughly entertained. “He does have that knack for drama, doesn’t he?”

“Absolutely! And then we have Carlos Sainz. I mean, bless him, but he’s trying so hard to keep up with Leclerc that it’s like watching a puppy chase its tail. Poor guy looks so lost sometimes, you just want to give him a treat and a pat on the head! But he gets a pass because he’s your friend.”

“Right? Carlos is actually a good guy,” Lando said, shaking his head, amused.

“And then there’s the team principals!” Y/n continued, her passion bubbling over. “Christian Horner thinks he runs a royal court every time Max crosses the finish line. ‘Look at my king!’ as if it’s not a team effort. And Toto—he’s not innocent either. He struts around like he’s the head of a fashion show! Honestly, if I had a dime for every time I’ve seen him making dramatic hand gestures in the pits, I could fund a whole new racing team!”

“Okay, that one’s a good point!” Lando laughed, feeling the tension ease with every word.

“Seriously, I would fight every one of them for you if it came down to it. Size doesn’t matter when you’re this passionate!” she declared boldly. “I’d take on Max, George, and anyone else who thinks they can just push you around out there!”

“Y/n, you do realize you’re only 5’6, right?” Lando replied, grinning. “How are you going to take on all of them?”

“I may be small, but I’ve got a big heart and a bigger mouth!” she shot back, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “Just imagine me storming the paddock like, ‘Back off, or I’ll unleash my fury on you!’”

“Please don’t start any fights in the paddock,” he said, his tone light but earnest. “I love your spirit, but I’d rather not deal with the fallout. I need you here, not banned.”

“Why not? It would be entertaining!” she countered, smirking. “I’d tell them all off! ‘Listen up, dummfucks of the grid, stop getting in my boyfriend’s way!’”

Lando laughed, the sound genuine now. “You really are something else. Knowing you’ve got my back means everything.”

“Absolutely! If they try to block you from winning, I won’t hesitate to step in,” she said, snuggling closer.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything too crazy,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “I love your fierceness and protective side, but let’s keep you in the paddock, okay?”

[robynlilyblack]

Little sickling

Remus Lupin x fem! sick! reader

Summary: Remus runs his girlfriend a bath when she’s unwell

Warnings/tags: swearing, mentions of eating, being unwell, medication, remus’ furry little problem, treating wounds, nudity, and, talks of sex and attempts at seduction, established relationship, living together, implied reader and remus not being very well off, remus lupin being the sweetest boyfriend

A/n: 3k words, I have been so sick the last couple weeks, I apologise for any errors, this fic is 100% self serving, enjoy ♡

Navigation | Remus Lupin Masterlist

Remus smiles to himself as he walks home, bag of essentials in one hand and flowers in the other. He didn’t know what to expect when he got in, this morning he had left a very adamant you who swore, and he quotes, that she ‘was not getting sick’. As much as he wanted to believe you, your subtle coughs and sniffles were not subtle enough, hence the bags filled with supplies to make easy stews and soups for you to eat, fresh tissues for that sniffly nose, medicine for those headaches, cough syrup that he’ll likely have to bribe you into taking, and lastly, some flowers, though are mostly to make you smile

He doesn’t mind the extra effort, in fact, it brings him an odd sense of joy knowing he’ll be able to look after you for once. Ever since you’ve known him you’ve been looking after him, and now that you both were living together, far from the wizarding world, you’d have to bear the brunt of it all on your own with his friends off living their own lives. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for him anymore, no, he had encouraged them to go live their lives, and while you were supportive of that, he still feels guilty sometimes that he’s locked you into such a life

He breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of your shared home, even if the gutter was hanging off again…least the plants are getting a good water

As he reaches the front door, he places down the bags and flowers softly, rubbing his achy hand from the weight before using them to open the rather stubborn door you both should really fix. With one hand turning the key and the other pulling the door towards him the lock clicks and he can push it open. His theory you were sicker than you were letting on is confirmed when silence greets him on the other end. Usually you’re like a happy little bunny meeting him at the front door, all excited and practically bouncing as you run up to give him a hug. But today he finds a dim hall, only illuminated by the soft light of the living room as the door has been left ajar 

He moves the bags and flowers inside before locking the door behind him and calling out “Love?” but he receives no answer

Abandoning the supplies for a moment he walks towards the light, his smile coming back as he pushes the door open and realises why you were quiet. You’re caught red handed in getting up from the small fort you had created on the couch, smiling shyly as you practically have to wrestle out of the sheer magnitude of blankets you had hoarded

“Hi” you croak a little, embarrassed as you continue to shuffle out 

He wishes you would stay seated and let him come to you, but he doesn’t argue, and instead closes the gap “Hey” he coos “How are you feelin’?” 

You pout as you approach him “Meh” is all you can muster before your head falls instinctively into his chest

He chuckles, opening his jacket fully so you can slip your hands in to steal his warmth as you always did “Poor baby” he kisses the top of your head, bring his arms around you before looking over at your makeshift bed

Frankly it’s a disaster site, from the multiple blankets and pillows thrown together in no particular order, to the loo roll being used as tissue paper. He over looks at the coffee table next, noting some medicine on the table, a good start, followed by some old tea, half eaten toast, along with a couple forgotten books you clearly tried to read but then opted for generic tv instead when you couldn’t concentrate

Out of everything there was only one thing he was going to give you a little row for…

“No water?” he looks down at you

He has to put on his best poker face now as you look up with the most guilty little face

“I had…some” you reply, face giving away your play while your hands falls to begin playing with the rim of his jumper

“Tea doesn’t count…neither does juice or coffee” he adds when you open your mouth to object 

You lower your head to guise your shame “I’m sorry Rem” you mumble 

He can feel the pout through his jumper “I’m not mad, promise” he pulls you back gently, giving you a reassuring look before he eyes you “So…are you going let me look after ya this time?”

You don’t try to pretend like this morning nor argue against him, just nod. Gone is the stubborn girl who swore she was okay and was going to get so much done on her day off, and what remains is a very tired and sick one that just wants coddled by her boyfriend

“Good girl” he moves you back towards the couch “Let's get you hydrated first” he tells you as he encourages you to sit down “When did you last take those?” he gestures to the packet of pills 

Your eyebrows scrunch before you look over towards the clock “Around 11ish, maybe 12?” you shrug softly, giving him a sorry smile for not keeping better track “Is it really 6 already?” you say mostly to yourself before coughing softly

He just kisses your forehead, saying he’ll be right back as he returns to the hall, hanging up his jacket before collecting the bags and taking them into the kitchen. He quickly puts some things that needed to go in the fridge away before grabbing a clean glass and filling it up with some water. While he’s here he grabs a spare vase from under the sink. Usually he would make you a bouquet but today he opted for the quicker version, allowing him to place them in directly and waste no time in returning to you, flowers in one hand, water in the other

You’re right where he left you when he reenters the living room, and he can’t help but find your idling adorable. Rocking your feet back and forth, hands under your thighs as your head looks around the room, eyes wandering like you hadn’t fully decorated the place yourself

“Love” he gently calls, gaining your attention, his smile widening at your little scooch towards him as he joins you on the couch, placing the flowers on the table in front of you along with the water

“You got me flowers?” you cheese, cheeks barely containing your glee

He nods, his heart flipping like he was a schoolboy again at your silly smile “Like em?” he asks even though he already knows the answer

“Very much” you reach out, thump and forefinger softly playing with the petals before you kiss his shoulder “Do they smell as pretty as they look?” you wonder, struggling with your stuffy nose

Remus’ smile sinks to a sympathetic one, arm sliding around your waist “They do” he confirms “And you’ll be able to smell them sooner once you’re hydrated” he pivots the conversation, picking up the glass and handing it to you 

You accept the tumbler with a small eye roll, cupping it as you take small sips, leaning into his side, while Remus’ arm moves upward, hand finding the top of your head, giving you little pets. You cough periodically while you rehydrate, and Remus kisses the side of your head every time you do, after your most recent he nuzzles his nose in a little. You let out a couple of soft hums, the first from the closeness, and the second at the loss of contact when Remus shifts away 

He feels your confused gaze as he walks over to your desk, grabbing the smaller bin as he begins to clear away the coffee table

“You don…” you start but he just gives you a look “...have to do that…” you whisper the rest to yourself but he still hears you 

“I want to” he says simply, placing the bin down beside the table before leaving the room, taking away the old tea with him

When he returns he finds you struggling with your blankets “Let me make you a proper bed, this ones just sad” he teases, ushering you to get up

“You’re sad” you retort quietly, hiding your little smile at the idea of a getting Remus style bed couch

He lets out a breathy laugh that sinks to amusing admiration at your little waddle over to the nearby armchair, water in tow. As he moves all of the blankets to one side, throwing away any tissues that had fallen into them, he notices you bring your feet up to sit on, warming them up after being exposed to the cold floor. 

He picks up one of the spare blankets “Up” he gestures for you to lift up your arms and when you do he drapes the soft material over you “Good girl” he throws you a wink before turning back to the couch, unable to contain his smirk as he hears your little wriggles beneath the blanket at his choice of words

He begins his work, layering the fluffiest of the blankets down, tucking it into the edges of the couch cushions. Next he piles the random assortment of pillows you had hoarded to cradle you, while he takes your favourite blanket and drapes it over, folding it at the top so you can slip in. It’s then he adds the final touches, bringing through a pitcher of water and fresh box of tissues, before flicking on the softer lamp

“There” he says, looking proud of his creation

He looks towards you for confirmation, finding you smiling sweetly at him before sipping your water again, doing your best to hold back the coughs that threaten bubble over

“Doing alright love” he kneels down, hand finding your thigh through the plush material

You nod but then wear a slightly embarrassed smile 

“What’s wrong? You want the bigger blanket” he rubs your legs, worried there's a draft he’s not noticed

“Rem…do I smell?” you blurt out, pursing your lips a little “I feel stinky” you confess, nose all scrunched

He does his best not to chuckle, especially as he notices a stray hair that’s falling forward like a depressed little unicorn

“Hmmm” he leans forward “Let me see” he begins to dramatically sniff around you, basking in your croaky giggles before he widens his eyes “Oh my!” he pretends to faint from the smell, head falling into you lap

“Rem!” you huff, shoving him a little before you cough again “Remmy!” you shake him again, your tone in time with the shakes but your coughs get the better of you and it soon turns into a small fit

“Oh…hun” he feels guilty as he lifts his head, shifting to sit on the arm of the chair as he rubs your back softly “Slow breaths, you’re gonna be okay I promise” he assures noticing your slight distress as you struggle to catch your breath

When your breathing stabilises you lean into him “And you say I’ll be the death of you” you meekly chuckle, earning you a kiss to the head

Once he’s sure you’re okay Remus stands “Come on” he helps you up “I’ll run you a bath…” he tells you before adding the next part with a grin “...it’ll help you feel less stinky” 

You roll your eyes before your expression drops, realising he said ‘you’ and not ‘we’ just now “You aren’t going to join me?” you say, reaching what must reaching a record breaking amount of pouts in one day 

He shakes his head “Sorry love, not this time” he flicks his thumb across your cheek before taking your hand again “That alright?” he starts to lead you

After a semi grumpy ‘hmph’ but allow him to take you upstairs. As you enter the bathroom he sits you down at the end of the tub, feeling your eyes as he goes into the cupboard to fetch you a towel, catching you leaning forward to continue watching as he heads into the bedroom to fetch you fresh clothes, and by clothes a set of his old pjs

“I brought you some underwear if you want it” he gestures to the delicates, well…more delicate as he’s already correctly assumed you probably wouldn’t want a bra

“Thanks” you smile at him, standing to give him a proper kiss but he turns his head at the last minute causing you to miss, catching his cheek instead “Remmy!” you scold in the quietest little voice as not to induce another coughing fit

He chuckles “Sorry little sickling” he pats your head “Can’t have us both sick” he explains “Be tragic”

You cross your arms “I’m not a sickling” you grumble, looking away for a moment before you attempt to broker “One” you plead, but he doesn’t budge “Please…pretty please…chocolate on top?”

It kills him to deny you, especially when you look at him like that…and offer hi chocolate, but he could only have one sickling in this house at a time, and far to often does he take up that mantle

“Bath first, then you can try negotiating little sickling” he uses the nickname again, revealing in how it annoys you in the cutest way

After one last attempt with those eyes you give in, shoulders slumping as you mutter a small ‘fine’d’, moving around him to begin underdressing. Remus takes that as a cue to take your place at the tub, sitting closer to the tap as he runs you your bath, fingers softly flicking under the running water as he waits for it to heat

“Rem honey?” you attempt gain his attention after a couple minutes

I know that tone

“Reeemmm” he can just imagine the poses

He hangs his head a little, smirking to himself, he had to admire your attempts. Still, he lives to annoy you even if you were to quote future you ‘mortally wounded’, so he leaves you to stew a little, focusing on placing the plug in the drain, and pouring some of your favourite smellies and salts in. It’s only after you let out another ‘hmph’ that his body pulses a laugh, failing to hold it in as you must resemble a bunny thumping when their mad or want attention, in fact he’s surprised he didn’t hear your foot stomp

“Lov…” he turns around, words leaving him as he can’t stop the loving smirk at your figure “No” he says half heartedly

“Please” you bring your arms a little closer to your sides, accentuating two particular assets

Remus meant when he said the sight of both of you sick would be tragic but he’s losing that battle with how good you look as you try to seduce him into giving you a kiss…or the getting in the bath with you…or both, probably both

“Rem!” you whine, scrunching your face before your eyes light up turning around, wiggling

He takes a moment to admire the jiggle before he stands, wrapping his arms around you, causing you to turn and face him, a winning smile on your face but it falls as he tilts his head, giving you a downturned smile

“Did it work even a little bit?” you sulk

He chuckles, fingers raking through your hair, being careful of the tugs that have formed “If you weren’t sick love I’d be afraid of flooding the bathroom with how quickly you would have gotten dragged over there” he nods across the hall, causing you to shyly smile “I promise you’ll get all the real kisses you want once you recover” 

“Plus interest?” you pose, rocking on your toes as you bite your lip a little, and he’s suddenly aware of the double meaning in your tone

Merlin he could fall in love with you all over again

“Plus interest” he agrees with a chuckle, giving you a big smile and kiss to the top of your head before turning back to the bath before it really does overflow

Leaning back over the tub he turns off the tap, pulling the sleeves of his jumper up as he checks the temperature and gently mixes in the soap. Once he’s happy with the water to bubbles ratio he wipes the soap that clings to his forearms and reaches out towards you

“Ready love?” 

You nod, taking his hands and letting him guide you carefully into the tub. A hiss escapes your lips as your foot touches the water, taking a moment to adjust to the temperature, while Remus, ever the gentlemen, Remus keeps a steady hold on you as you sink in fully, and once you’re settled he gently gathers your hair, securing it out of the way before it has a chance to dip into the water, he would help you wash it later

“The steam will help clear your sinuses while I make us some dinner” he tells you as he kneels next to the tub, the backs of his fingers finding your cheek for a moment “I got you”

You lean into it, getting shy under his care “You’re too sweet” you bring your knees up to your chest

Remus’ lips part at the use of his monthly catchphrase being used against him. You were always to patient when he was a grumpy old sod before his transformations, and so sweet and gentle after them, making him warm food, tending to his wounds, kissing everything better

Time to return the favour

He brings his lips to the corner of your own, lingering there before he uses your own words against you “Just treating you the way you deserve” he plants another to your temple then stands “I’ll be back soon” 

You give him a small nod, coughing gently “Thank you Remmy” you smile, practically melting into the tub “I love you”

“I love you more…” he blows you a kiss before he leaves, but just before the door closes he adds “...my little sickling” 

“REM!”

Thank you for reading ♡

[camzeecorner]

𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚂, 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃, 𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙴₊˚ෆ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑

smut ღ dividers → @bernardsbendystraws ฅ^._.^ฅ

The soft glow of string lights illuminated Nicole's room, casting a warm ambiance that enveloped her and her friends. The walls were adorned with posters of their favorite bands, and the faint scent of vanilla candles filled the air. Nicole sat cross-legged on her bed, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness as Matt, Chris, and Nate sprawled across the floor and her desk chair, laughing and joking.

“Okay, okay, so who wants to go first?” Matt grinned, leaning back with his hands behind his head. His confidence was palpable, and it made Nicole both admire and envy him.

“I’ll go,” Chris said, his voice steady. “So, there was this one time at a party…” He paused for dramatic effect, glancing around the room as if the walls themselves were listening. “I was talking to this girl, and things were going great. We ended up sneaking away to a quieter spot. You know how it goes.” He chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. “We kissed, and then, well… one thing led to another.”

“Dude, no way!” Matt interrupted, his eyes wide with excitement. “Did you actually—”

“Yeah, we did,” Chris admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “But it was so awkward! I mean, I had no idea what I was doing. I was just trying to remember what I’d seen in movies. It was like a comedy show gone wrong.”

Nicole couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in the room easing a little. But as the conversation continued, she felt a wave of vulnerability wash over her.

Nate, who had been quiet until now, shifted in his seat. “I think the first time is always awkward,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “I remember mine. It was with my girlfriend, and I was so nervous. I kept overthinking everything—like, what if I messed it up? What if it hurt her?” He looked at Nicole, his expression sincere. “I wanted it to be perfect, but it turned out to be… well, not what I expected.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked, his curiosity piqued.

Nate sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was just… there was this pressure to perform, you know? I wanted to impress her, but I ended up just feeling lost. We laughed about it afterward, but in the moment, I felt like I was failing.”

“That’s so relatable,” Chris said softly, his heart aching for him. “I think we all put so much pressure on ourselves, especially when it comes to something so intimate.”

“Exactly!” Matt chimed in, his tone shifting to a more serious note. “I mean, it’s supposed to be this amazing thing, but it can be so confusing. I’ve had my fair share of awkward moments too. Like, once I tried to be all smooth, and I ended up knocking over a lamp. Total disaster!”

The room erupted in laughter, but Nicole could sense the deeper emotions beneath the surface. She shifted uncomfortably on her bed, twiddling with the loose strings on her blanket.

Nate glanced at Nicole, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to concern as he noticed the turmoil behind her eyes. It seemed she had withdrawn into a world of unspoken thoughts since their earlier chat. The air felt heavy with unshared words, and he sensed she was carrying an unseen weight. Leaning in, he broke the silence gently. “What about you, Nicole?”

When he said her name, it was like a lifeline pulling her back from her thoughts. She blinked, momentarily lost, as his warm gaze brought her back to reality. With her heart racing, she took deep breath’s collecting herself.

She giggled softly, glancing down at her lap. “What about me?” she asked in a quiet voice. She was unsure of what they were discussing and if she even wanted to know. Feeling lost throughout the conversation, she tried to piece together their words. The atmosphere seemed to shift, growing colder against her skin. She fluttered her eyes up to look at the boys.

She could hear Chris laughing silently at the earlier remarks. Matt looked at her, clearing his throat and sitting up straight. “Your first time... what was it like?” She met his gaze, completely confused by his question. “My first time what?” she asked, not grasping what he was getting at.

The boys giggled lightly. “Your first time having sex...” Chris said cheerfully, tilting his head to the side. She felt her cheeks heat up under their stares. She had thought they were just teasing her.

She felt like she was sinking into her mattress, completely hopeless. Her ears heated up and rang slightly. “...I don’t know what that is...” she spoke quietly.

Nate’s eyes widened in disbelief at her comment, his mind racing to process what he had just heard. Matt stifled a giggle, pressing his lips together to contain his amusement. Chris, on the other hand, stared at her with an unreadable expression, his brow furrowing slightly. “Wait...” Matt finally broke the silence, leaning forward with curiosity. “You’re telling us that you’ve never had sex?” She let out a frustrated sigh, shrugging her shoulders as irritation bubbled up inside her at the awkward direction of the conversation.

“I guess... I don’t even know what sex is...” she said, turning away from the boys and shifting her body at an angle to avoid their gazes. Embarrassment washed over her like a wave, making her feel small and excluded from the conversation. “You never had the sex talk with your parents?” Nate asked, still in utter shock, his voice tinged with disbelief.

She flipped onto her back, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers in the texture of the paint. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she shut her eyes, trying to block out the world around her. “...No... is that bad?” she spoke in a frail voice, the vulnerability evident in her tone. Chris licked his lips thoughtfully before getting up and walking toward her bed, settling beside her with a quiet intensity.

Chris ran his fingers through his hair, turning to face her with a serious expression. She sat up, bracing herself for what he was about to say. “It’s not exactly good to be unaware of it...” Chris began, choosing his words carefully to ensure she would understand. “Sex is something you should know about; it’s an important part of life.” She listened intently, absorbing every word he spoke. “What is it?” she asked, glancing around the group for answers. Matt and Nate exchanged looks before shifting their focus back to Chris, who met their gaze, ready to clarify further.

The boys were in shock, their minds racing as they processed the reality that they would have to teach their best friend about sex. They weren’t upset with her; instead, they felt a wave of empathy wash over them. They understood the constraints her parents had placed on her. Strict Christians, her parents had meticulously guided her down what they deemed the “right path,” which meant shielding her from the outside world. This overprotection kept her away from people, boys, and the very concept of sex, leaving her unprepared for the realities of life that everyone else seemed to take for granted.

“Sex is something...” Matt began, snapping his fingers and rubbing his temples as if searching for the right word. “...valuable,” Nate chimed in, finishing Matt's thought. Chris nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he recognized the weight of their conversation. The atmosphere was charged with the importance of what they were trying to convey, and the boys knew they had to get it right for her sake.

“Okay, Nicole, listen,” Chris began, his voice steady yet gentle, trying to ease the tension in the air. He shifted slightly, ensuring he had her full attention. “Sex is a natural part of life, something that happens between two people who care about each other. It’s not just a physical act; it’s also emotional. When two people decide to be intimate, they share a connection that goes beyond just their bodies.”

He paused, searching her eyes for understanding before continuing. “It’s about trust and respect. You should feel safe with the person you choose to be with. It’s important to know that it’s okay to wait until you’re ready. There’s no rush; it’s a big step, and it should never feel forced.”

Chris took a deep breath, wanting to make sure she grasped the concept fully. “When people have sex, it can lead to different things—like a deeper bond or even starting a family. But it also comes with responsibilities, like being safe and considering the feelings of everyone involved. It’s not just about pleasure; it’s about being responsible and caring for one another.”

He looked at her earnestly, hoping she could see the importance of what he was saying. “So, if you ever have questions or feel unsure, talk to someone you trust. It’s better to be informed than to go into it blindly.”

“Someone I trust?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes darting around the group for support. The boys nodded encouragingly, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. “Well... I trust you guys,” she finally admitted, her voice gaining strength.

Nate’s head snapped up at her words, surprise etched across his face. “What are you saying?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with intrigue.

“I mean... I know you said it’s between two people, but... I trust all of you. Why can’t we all have sex... together?”

Matt suddenly choked on his drink, caught off guard by her bold question, his eyes widening in disbelief. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air as the boys exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond to her unexpected proposal.

Matt sucked in a breath, his expression serious as he prepared to speak. “It’s possible...” he began, his voice steady but cautious. “But that’s something you really need to be sure about.” He glanced at Nate, who nodded in agreement, his gaze focused intently on Nicole.

“Especially for your first time,” Nate added, his tone softening. “Those moments are meant to be special, something you’ll remember forever. It’s important to think about what you truly want and how it feels to share that with someone.” The atmosphere grew heavy with the significance of their words, each boy acutely aware of the weight of the decision they were discussing.

“I am sure,” she spoke up defensively, her voice firm and resolute. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface; she was tired of being treated like a child. If others could explore the pleasures within their own bodies, why couldn’t she? Curiosity sparked within her, an eagerness to learn more about the complexities of intimacy.

“Doll, you really have to think about it,” Chris interjected, his tone serious as he ran a hand down his face, a gesture that revealed his concern. The weight of the conversation hung in the air, and he searched her eyes for understanding, hoping she would consider the implications of her decision.

“Please,” she spoke up, her voice tinged with desperation. She was willing to do anything to convince the boys, her heart racing as she laid it all on the line. The boys exchanged glances, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Matt smirked, his expression playful as he shot them the ‘I say let’s do it’ look, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

Chris rolled his eyes at his brother, a mix of exasperation and concern on his face. “If we do this...” he began, his tone serious as he locked eyes with her. “You have to be honest with us, okay? Tell us if you’re hurt, uncomfortable, or if it’s too much. If you want to stop, just say ‘purple.’” His gaze bore into hers, emphasizing the importance of trust and communication in this moment.

She sat up, her excitement palpable as she nodded her head rapidly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “What do I do first?” she asked, her voice filled with eagerness. Matt and Nate began to rise, making their way over to her bed, their movements confident as they took seats close by, creating an intimate circle around her.

Chris, however, moved with a gentle assurance, placing a hand on her arm and pulling her slightly toward him. “Be patient, okay?” he spoke in a calm, soothing voice, his tone a grounding presence amidst her excitement. She nodded softly at his words, feeling the weight of his reassurance settle within her.

Chris gently pulled her small frame closer, guiding her to sit between his legs. He hooked his own legs around hers, creating a secure space as he spread her legs slightly apart. The unexpected movement caught her off guard, and she let out a soft giggle, the sound light and playful in the air as she adjusted to the new position.

Chris wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers playfully dancing just above the waistband of her small shorts. A gasp escaped her lips at his touch, a rush of warmth flooding through her in a way she had never experienced before. She squirmed slightly, trying to shake off the unfamiliar sensation that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Nate, observing her movements, couldn’t help but smirk to himself, amused by the tension in the air.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Nate asked, his gaze locking onto hers. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back against Chris's chest, seeking comfort in his presence. “It feels uncomfortable,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly as the words slipped out.

Matt bit his lip, intrigued. “What’s that, doll?” he prompted, leaning in closer. “My private area…” she whispered, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. “Yeah?” Chris replied, his voice low and seductive as he leaned in to her ear. “Mmhm,” she groaned, the sound escaping her lips, filled with a mix of confusion and unexpected thrill.

“You wanna know why?” Chris hummed softly against her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine as he peppered gentle kisses on her delicate skin. She nodded, her heart racing with anticipation. “That’s because…” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

With a teasing touch, he slipped his slim fingers into her shorts, grazing the fabric of her panties, sending a jolt of electricity through her. “..you’re wet,” he finished, his words hanging in the air, thick with tension and desire.

She hummed at his touch, a wave of relief washing over her as the sensation coursed through her body. “I’m wet?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, small and uncertain.

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the fabric of his pants tighten around him. “Yeah, I’ve barely done anything, and you’re soaked,” he replied, his tone revealing a mix of surprise and intrigue.

She loved the feeling of his fingers tracing against her core, each delicate stroke igniting a fire within her. She forced her hips upward, desperately seeking more of his touch, craving the connection that sent shivers through her entire body.

“Look at you… you’re getting all wet from a little touch…” Chris whispered teasingly in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. She felt her eyes rolling back in pleasure, completely lost in the sensation, unable to get enough of the intoxicating feeling. But just as the waves of ecstasy began to build, Chris suddenly pulled his fingers away, jolting her out of her trance and leaving her yearning for more.

She looked up at Chris, her eyes shimmering with a sad and desperate expression. “W-…why’d you stop?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with longing. Chris met her gaze, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he replied, “Why don’t we let Matt have a turn…” His gaze trailed up to his brother, the air thick with unspoken tension.

He slid from underneath her, smoothly taking Matt’s spot next to Nate, the shift in weight creating a palpable tension in the air. Matt climbed into Chris’s former position, settling back into the familiar space he had occupied moments before. As he ran his fingers up and down her thighs, he could feel goosebumps rising on her skin, each gentle caress igniting a spark of anticipation that danced across her body.

His fingers found their way back to the place where she ached most, sliding in a slow, deliberate motion that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. She tipped her head back, her mouth falling open in a breathless gasp as little pants and fragile breaths escaped her lips. “Matt…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hmm,” he hummed softly in response, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He could feel the effect he was having on her, the wetness on her panties growing, a testament to her desire as he continued to tease her senses.

He slipped his hand into her underwear feeling the cold wet feeling on her folds. “Oh matt..” she moaned grabbing his hand. “It’s okay.. you’re okay.” He spoke to her. He started with slow strips, going up and down her folds. She bit her lip shutting her eyes.

He started moving his fingers in a circular motion, making her legs twitch beneath him. He was going at a painfully slow pace, making her heart race and chest rise. He sped the movement of his fingers up slightly.

“Does that feel good?” Matt asked in a teasing voice, his tone playful yet intimate. She nodded her head, too overwhelmed to form words, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. A tightening sensation gripped her lower stomach, each wave of pleasure intensifying as she struggled to keep her composure.

“My… my stomach…” she squealed, a mix of surprise and pleasure in her voice. She could feel her stomach caving in, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating. The unfamiliar way her body was reacting left her breathless, as if every nerve ending was on fire, igniting a whirlwind of sensations she had never experienced before.

“You’re about to cum,” Matt spoke in a soft, enticing voice. He quickened the pace of his fingers, moving even faster, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She yelped, arching her back in response to the overwhelming sensations. In a moment of instinct, she closed her thighs tightly, but Matt gently pushed them apart, his touch firm yet reassuring, keeping her exposed to the rising tide of ecstasy.

She was panting heavily, her breaths coming in rapid, uneven gasps as her vision blurred at the edges. A wave of shock coursed through her body, making it difficult to focus on anything around her. Every muscle felt tense and heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible force. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, a numbness creeping in that left her feeling both exhilarated and disoriented. “You came,” Matt giggled, his voice light and teasing, cutting through the haze of her sensations.

She opened her eyes slowly, the world around her coming into focus as she tried to regain her strength, still riding the waves of an intense high. “Did it feel good?” Chris asked, his voice soft as he reached forward to caress her leg gently. “It felt really good,” she replied, her voice cracking from the emotions and tears she had let out, each word tinged with a mix of vulnerability and relief.

Matt pulled his hand from her giving his fingers a lick. He moaned at the tatse of her juices. He was in pure awe. “You tatse so sweet baby.” He smiled down at her. “Here” he placed his hand to her mouth allowing her to suck one of his fingers. She was unsure of what to expect. She moaned at the taste. It was sweet like a rich honey. “That’s what you taste like” she sucked his finger clean releasing his finger with a pop sound. She looked at the boys, “what do you tatse like” nate smirked at her comment, “that’s for next time, todays about you and your pleasure”

Nate rose to his feet, striding purposefully toward her. Matt shifted away, returning to the chair he had occupied just an hour before, leaving the space between them charged with anticipation. Nate gently guided her body until she lay flat against the soft surface of the bed, adjusting her position to bring her closer to the edge. He sank to his knees on the plush carpet below, a sense of devotion evident in his posture. With careful hands, he lifted her legs and rested them on his shoulders, creating an intimate connection that spoke volumes without words.

Nate's hands glided up and down her thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through her. He flashed a gentle smile that lit up his face, then leaned in to plant soft, lingering kisses along her skin, each one a tender caress. As he inched closer to the delicate inner part of her thighs, the air between them crackled with a mix of anticipation and intimacy, making the moment feel electric and alive.

“M’gonna take these off, okay?” he said softly, his voice laced with a gentle reassurance. With deliberate movements, he grasped the waistband of her shorts, slowly pulling them down in one smooth motion, revealing her underwear beneath. As he continued, he slid both the shorts and the fabric underneath down together, his touch careful and respectful, creating an atmosphere of trust and intimacy.

He gently grazed his fingers over her core, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. In that moment, he couldn’t help but be in awe of her; she was stunning, perfectly sculpted in every way. A soft whine escaped her lips at his touch, the familiar warmth and wetness returning, intensifying the connection between them.

He slipped a finger through her folds, the slickness igniting a flutter in his heart that he couldn't ignore. He craved more, the desire overwhelming him. Wasting no time, he dove in, taking a bold lick that made her cry out in surprise and pleasure. Her legs instinctively clamped shut, trapping his head between her thighs, but that only fueled his determination to continue.

He kitten-licked her, savoring the sweet, intoxicating wetness that filled his senses. A deep groan escaped him as he gripped her thighs, his fingers sinking into her soft skin, pulling her closer as he lost himself in the moment.

“Oh g-god—” her breath hitched, caught off guard by the sensation of two mouths suddenly attaching to her. Matt and Chris sat across from her, their lips exploring her neck with a fervor that sent shivers down her spine. She hadn’t even noticed them move, completely enveloped in the unexpected pleasure that consumed her.

Matt bunched her shirt up, pulling it off her with a swift motion. They gazed at her bare chest, their eyes filled with a mix of admiration and mischief as they exchanged smirks. Wasting no time, Chris and Matt leaned in, their mouths eagerly sucking at her smooth skin, feeling her buds harden beneath their warm, teasing lips.

Nate was eating her like his last meal making sure to lap up every juice. He was so addicted to her taste. Her pure innocence was gone for sure. He was thrusting into the air being in so much pleasure himself. He was desperate to find some friction. She was shaking uncontrollably not knowing how much more she could take. Nate was eating her so well she was sobbing uncontrollably. She was sure she would be limp tomorrow. She whined as she was rolling her heat on his face feeling his nose brush against her.

Nicole let out a desperate scream as a wave of sensation coursed through her, tightening her stomach once more. The feeling of Chris and Matt’s mouths skillfully working on her chest, paired with the intoxicating pleasure of Nate’s tongue, sent her spiraling toward the edge. She felt as if she might explode from the overwhelming mix of sensations, each touch igniting a fire within her that she could barely contain.

She tangled her fingers in Nate’s hair, a desperate attempt to pull him away as her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. “I-I’m… I’m so—” Her words faltered as she felt her breath hitch, her gaze fixating on the liquid spilling out of her. In a frantic effort to close her legs, she felt Nate begin to softly pat her aroused heat. A loud scream escaped her lips, tears streaming down her face as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed her.

As Nate ceased his movements, she struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving with each labored inhale. Matt and Chris pulled away, detaching their lips from her skin, their expressions a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. They all sat up, breathless, the air thick with the remnants of their shared intensity, each of them trying to regain their composure in the aftermath of the overwhelming experience.

“Well… that was…” Matt began, his voice trailing off as he processed the sheer shock of the moment. Nate, with a playful grin, was licking the remains of juice that had spilled onto his face, savoring every drop. “I’d do that again,” he laughed, the sound light and carefree.

Nicole laid limply on her bed, a blissful smile gracing her lips. “You okay?” Chris asked gently, running his fingers through her hair, his touch soothing. She nodded softly, her heart still racing. “That was really nice,” she admitted, her smile widening. “Can we do that more often?” She glanced around at the group, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

They exchanged looks, a silent understanding passing between them. “Sure,” Matt replied softly, his hand caressing her cheek, a tender gesture that deepened the moment.

“I think it’s safe to say I really enjoy sex!” Nicole joked, a playful grin spreading across her face. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she sighed, clearly reveling in the lighthearted atmosphere.

part two here

[tritoch]

Have you got any thoughts to share about Sphene? I saw your post about how misrepresented FFXIV’s female characters are, and I’ve been hoping to see anything more than the typical “Evil AI colonizer etc.” or “Tragic woman who can never change ever” or “Wuk Lamat’s girlfriend”. Maybe our interpretations will differ but I’ll be happy if you can provide anything more complex than those.

Sure! Throwing all this under a read-more for anyone who hasn't finished 7.0 yet. I think I'll probably expand on this more later but wanted to get initial thoughts down. (Note after writing: I meant this to be brief but uhhhh brevity is not my strong suit sorry. This take just sort of ends abruptly because I realize I'm rambling.) Again, spoilers through the end of 7.0 MSQ.

I think Sphene is the sharpest work the game has done yet in casting the antagonist as the noble double of the protagonist (a well it returns to a lot with Emet, and Zenos, and Golbez, and...). But because the protagonist here is Wuk Lamat and not the Warrior of Light, that's also a much more defined and interesting role. To me, Wuk Lamat is, above all, the Righteous Queen, who rules thoughtfully, wisely, and justly, and whose claim to the throne is justified by her moral clarity. Sphene, in turn, is also a wise and good queen, one who undertakes all her actions with her people first in her hearts, a sense of compassion towards all, and a clear eye for the consequences and costs of her intended course of action. And it leads to utter disaster, for her, her people, and the people of Tural. That rocks!

The first half of 7.0 is about justifying the fact that Wuk Lamat's going to be Dawnservant. Wuk Lamat is compassionate, curious, wise, and open-minded. She wins over rebels and malcontents not by asserting her authority or by strength of force, but by taking her obligations to them (as her subjects) seriously. She knows many of her subjects personally and takes a great interest in their lives, and she respects even those who openly oppose her.

And everything Wuk Lamat does, Sphene does to 11. Wuk Lamat respects her subject peoples and is curious about their cultures? Sphene forcibly annexes Yyasulani, but goes out of her way and expends Alexandria's limited resources to enable the remaining Xak Turali to live in their accustomed way if desired (…to the extent allowed by the new permanent lightning storms and the internal conflicts caused by regulator adoption). Wuk Lamat cares about her people not just in the abstract but as individuals? Sphene visits sick kids, knows them by name! Wuk Lamat understands the burden of rulership is too great and cedes half her power to her brother? Sphene recognizes her own weaknesses and makes a deal with the devil to keep Alexandria's culture alive! Wuk Lamat is willing to die for her people? Sphene will forcibly traumatize herself into being a better queen, if that's what rulership demands.

For an expansion that spends the first half being like "wow isn't this perfect candidate for the crown so likable and humble? wouldn't it be nice to be ruled by a good king?," it sure is funny that the final boss is THE QUEEN ETERNAL and she hits you with attacks like LEGITIMATE FORCE and ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY and ROYAL DOMAIN. This, to me, is Sphene's role: she complicates and questions the themes we've developed in the first half. Most importantly to me, she makes us ask: what is devotion to a people or culture even worth?

There's a thing I kept thinking of constantly during Dawntrail, not because I think it directly influenced the game in any way but because the parallels were so stark and startling. It's Jonathan Hickman's New Avengers #18 (2014). Truthfully, I'm not a big comics guy; I only know this sequence because Ta-Nehisi Coates cited it as inspiration for his Black Panther run on Twitter once (I also didn't read TNC's run, I was following him for politics talk). Forgive me, comics people, if I get any details wrong. The parallels are almost comical, though. It goes like this:

A superhuman secret society formed of some of the smartest heroes (and villains) in the land re-forms to oppose an existential threat caused by incursions from other dimensions that threaten to cause literal collisions between Earth and its alternate dimension counterparts. Seeing no other alternatives, they undertake work on a weapon to destroy these other worlds. T'challa—king of a fictional hyperadvanced nation called Wakanda, and also the superhuman Black Panther—meets with his ghostly predecessors, the previous Black Panthers/kings, for he fears the moral stain on his soul and the souls of the people of Wakanda, if they survive explicitly by killing their alternate counterparts, will be too heavy to bear. His ancestors are not impressed.

To them, there is no question at all. A king's duty may be complex in the execution, but it is simple in its conception. Your people come before all others. Always. This is, must be, the fundamental ethic of a good king. To do otherwise would be a betrayal of the social order on which this imagined good monarchy is built. In a situation like this, the only option is to do what you must to protect them. "Will there be a cost? Yes. Might the universe burn? Let it. . . . You will kill them all if it means Wakanda stands. The golden city must never fall."

"I will do what I must" is Sphene's guiding principle. It is so important to her that when she recognizes that her sentimental attachments are making her waver in her duty, she severs them entirely, sacrificing her whole identity to the throne. It is also implicitly Wuk Lamat's position: she has no choice but to fight Sphene because to do otherwise would be to fail to protect her people. In fact, it's briefly even sort of the Warrior of Light's position, as when you tell Sphene before her trial that you understand what you must do, which is shut her down to protect others.

(One quick thought about the Warrior of Light: one cool thing about the antagonist this time being a double in a more exact way than Emet or Zenos is that it means other characters get a chance to relate to her differently than Wuk Lamat. The Warrior of Light, for example, is pressed into her service immediately upon your first meeting as the Queen's Champion, there to defend her if need be against all evil. This role is further affirmed by both robot Otis and Endless Otis, who essentially hand off their role as her knight to you, and reinforced when you flash back to the "might I call upon your aid" moment right before the end. Except, of course, you are loyal not just to her, but to the principles she represents, which her own acts betray, and so your ultimate act of aid is to essentially pass judgment on her and execute her. In a sense, you become the internal safeguard that a political system is supposed to have to protect against this very issue, and which Alexandria explicitly lost when it cast out/forgot Otis. Very Voeburt/ShB tank quests, it owns.)

But really, it's Sphene who embodies this sort of grim logic best. Aside from her transformation into the Queen Eternal, it's also why she suggests you simply become Alexandrians. It's the only way for her to reconcile her values and worldview, which have backed her into a corner where preserving Alexandria has come to mean a maximalist declaration of war on all life outside its borders because the kind of absolutely pain-free life she envisions for her citizens is completely unsustainable.

In this reading, one of Sphene's main beats is to unsettle what has preceded her in MSQ. In nearly all respects, she shares your values. She prizes life, is curious about other cultures, believes in the greatest good for the greatest possible number. But she is also a queen, and therefore irrevocably (in her eyes) tied to her state. Gulool Ja Ja and Wuk Lamat (and Koana) are the mythical wise rulers, thank god--but what if Wuk had inherited a Turali state that wasn't desperately in need of cross-cultural understanding, but one in a state of war? What value would her deep love for the people of Tural have held then? Sphene says, it would have held no value. If the survival of your people means harming the innocent, you harm the innocent. Kingship allows for no alternatives.

But she also concedes, in the very next breath, that she is still kind of wrong. Because what happened here was not inevitable, despite her programming (a brief note: to me Sphene being programmed is exactly the same as Emet being maybe-tempered, it's a fantasy gloss on the idea of social and cultural education. "I was programmed for this" is really no different from "I was trained and educated for this"), because the truth is that this kind of thoughtful, principled devotion to the state and its people is also a form of sentimental attachment, in the end. One that is maintained not because it is natural, and necessary, but because the monarch, too, likes it, and gets something from it.

In so many ways, in so many senses, the monarch is the state. Kings and queens may fancy themselves merely a reflection of their people's needs and desires, but of course even a cursory glance at history will tell you that far more often, states reflect their rulers. Sphene and Wuk Lamat both suggest that their conflict was inevitable, but was it? Or is the truth, as Sphene glancingly acknowledges here, that she turned her own fears and desires into the same policy goals that led to this tragedy? And if so...what does that say of our Good Queen, Wuk Lamat? Perhaps this could be different if they met earlier, says Wuk Lamat. But when? When did Wuk Lamat ever not love her people so dearly that she would not have sacrificed herself for them, or caused mass death for the sake of their survival? When did Sphene not believe the Endless to be people, or the preservation of Alexandria to be the most important thing? Maybe she means "had we met before you met Zoraal Ja," but of course, we the player actually saw their meeting. And we know that Sphene even then was not the hapless naif she'd like to pretend. She always knew exactly what she was doing.

We know the price of this kind of thinking, this Hobbesian view that states are engaged in a struggle of all against all. Living Memory lets you walk through it. To preserve Tural, we exterminate the Endless. We befriend them, learn about their lives, promise to remember them, and then we destroy them and their homes, leaving nothing but a bleak blank landscape and the sound of wind. This is what Sphene would have done to Tural and Eorzea. Indeed, it's what she's already doing to the people of Yyasulani, because no amount of well-intentioned aid can make up for trapping people under the dome for 30 years and systematically eroding their culture through the resonators.

To me, this is what makes Sphene really work, that way she has of forcing Wuk Lamat and the player to commit the same kinds of sins she has. We'd like to think ourselves better than her, but of course, we've already reconciled with and integrated Mamook's brutal eugenicist regime back into Turali society well before we ever met Sphene. At the end of our long "wow isn't having a wise queen cool???" expansion, we are met with "Legitimate Force" and "Absolute Authority" and see them for what they truly are: nothing but tools of violence. No longer does the idea of the Warrior of Light hanging around Tural as Wuk Lamat's advisor have the same attraction, now that we have been reminded of the way the putatively unquestionable logic of kingship can ultimately lock even the wisest and kindest rulers into a path of war and exploitation and destruction.

I think Sphene is FFXIV's most interesting and nuanced depiction yet of a leader. She really, truly, wants nothing more than to save her people and protect them from pain. But even seemingly loving and compassionate goals like these can readily lead us down dark paths. She's a "hard men make hard choices"-type character, a noble but misguided opponent, but as a loving and elegant fairy queen instead of a grizzled knight or extremely sad man. She fucking rocks.

[harryslittlefreakk]

masterlist

* indicates smut

^ indicates angst

you can join my taglist here

my requests are open :) please feel free to tell me anything you’d like to see, no idea is too wild here. 🫶🏼

late night talking (completed)

a chance meeting with harry before his wembley dates leads you into a whirlwind relationship. harry x fan!y/n

favourite crime

a chance meeting between y/n and her professor leads to a dare… which leads to a forbidden affair neither of them will forget

my policeman

harry is the police officer assigned to your case, though you are inexplicably drawn to one another 🤭 age gap romance

dr. styles*

fratboy!harry is a surgical resident in your class, and he helps you to relieve some stress

the pact* part 2*

you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time

little angel*

a little drabble of needy y/n and dad!rry goodness, the pact extra but can be read alone

to build a home *^

buzz cut!rry and y/n spend their first new year’s together after splitting up and they look back on happier times. inspired by the song

girl crush *^

harry x bisexual bandmate y/n, based on the song

harry turns 30 *

a filthy smutty blurb about harry’s birthday 🎈💖

after the storm *^

y/n wakes up in her sworn enemies bed, with a city-wide storm keeping her trapped there. in the time that she’s stuck with harry, can they overcome their differences and build a friendship? 🫢🤷

obsessed ^

harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

arrogant s.o.b ^

based on this request - grumpy/mean Harry and readers first fight and he says something really harsh/yells and makes her cry? And then feels really bad after like grumpyxsunshine vibes?

too sweet *

essentially porn with little plot… or .. when her boss decides that letting her go is in her best interests, y/n decides to show him exactly what he’s missing out on

just between us *^

when y/n’s life starts to fall apart, her boss is there to pick up the pieces.. behind his wife’s back. nanny reader x ceorry

make me, darling^ make me, darling 2*

harry and y/n’s shared hatred for each other finally reaches its breaking point when they realise how deep their feelings go. based on the prompt ‘do all of us a favour and just leave’

kiss it better

when y/n doesn’t show up to work, harry takes her care into his own hands. ceorry x PA y/n

the one *^

y/n runs into the last person she ever expected to see in the last place she ever expected to see him, bringing old feelings & hurt to the surface. based on the prompt: childhood friends to lovers

recipe for disaster

y/n is a stubborn, clumsy baker and harry is a stubborn, overbearing firefighter

off limits *^

planning your brother’s birthday turns into crossing a line with his best friend

fictober masterlist

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ 3 A.M. Ramen and window brake-ins (Loser!Ellie x reader) ✞⛧

Warnings: Mild language, Break-ins via window (Ellie-style), Excessive amounts of clingy girlfriend energy

The sound of a thud against your window makes you nearly choke on your ramen. Your heart jumps into your throat as you freeze, the warm noodles halfway to your mouth. For a second, you convince yourself it’s just the wind or maybe a stray branch brushing the glass—but then you hear it again. A soft, deliberate tap, too rhythmic to be random.

Grabbing your phone, fingers trembling slightly, you inch toward the window. Your room is dimly lit, your bedroom TV softly playing one of MoistCr1TiKaL’s streams, but the shadows outside make it impossible to see clearly. You pull back the curtain just enough to peek out, and your breath catches in your throat.

There she is. Ellie Williams, your disaster of a girlfriend, crouched on the roof outside your window, her face illuminated by the faint glow from your lamp. She looks cold, wearing that same ratty hoodie she always wears, her hair a mess, and her expression somewhere between sheepish and guilty.

“What the fuck, Ellie?!” you whisper-yell, sliding the window open just enough for her to hear you. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Her lips quirk into a half-smile, and she rubs the back of her neck, her other hand clutching the window frame to keep her balance. “Hey… uh, surprise?”

You step aside, exasperated, and motion for her to come in. “It’s 3 a.m.,” you hiss as she hoists herself through the window, nearly knocking over your lamp in the process.

“I know, I know,” she says quickly, brushing off her jeans and shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. “I just… I couldn’t sleep. I missed you, and I was lonely. So, here I am.”

Your irritation softens as you take her in—her slouched posture, the way she’s avoiding your gaze like she’s not sure if you’re mad or just tired. It’s impossible to stay annoyed when she looks so earnest, like she couldn’t help but show up. It’s so Ellie to pull something like this, to act on impulse and throw logic out the window (literally).

You narrow your eyes at her, but your lips twitch into a small smile. “Next time, maybe text me instead of scaring the shit out of me,” you mutter, turning back to your bed and plopping down with your ramen.

Ellie steps closer, glancing at the TV where MoistCr1TiKaL’s familiar voice fills the room, then at the steaming cup of noodles in your hands. Her eyebrows raise, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Ramen at 3 a.m., huh? Bold choice.”

You roll your eyes, twirling your fork in the broth. “Bolder than climbing through someone’s window uninvited.” You pause, holding out the fork to her. “Here. Since you’re already here, might as well share.”

Her eyes light up as she takes the fork from you, leaning in to steal a bite. “Thanks, babe,” she mumbles around a mouthful of noodles, flopping onto the bed beside you.

Before long, Ellie’s stretched out on her back, her head resting in your lap. Her legs dangle off the edge of your bed, and her fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on her hoodie. The stream plays in the background, but you can tell her focus isn’t really on it. She’s quiet, more than usual, her gaze fixed somewhere near your TV but unfocused.

Your fingers find their way to her hair, combing through the messy auburn strands. She lets out a soft sigh, her body sinking further into the mattress as her eyes flutter shut.

“You’re the best, you know that?” she murmurs, her voice low and a little raspy from the cold outside.

“Damn right I am,” you reply, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you twirl another forkful of noodles.

Ellie chuckles, a quiet sound that makes your chest feel warm. She shifts closer, her arm draping over your waist as her other hand rests lightly against your thigh. The weight of her is comforting, grounding, and you can’t help but smile down at her.

“Sorry for scaring you,” she says after a moment, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I just… I don’t know. I needed to see you.”

You pause, glancing down at her. There’s something vulnerable in the way she says it, like she’s worried it’s too much or too clingy.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say quietly, your fingers still threading through her hair.

Her lips twitch into a small, grateful smile, and she nuzzles closer, her cheek pressing against your thigh. The stream continues playing in the background, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. You lean back against the pillows, the warmth of Ellie’s body against yours and the soft sound of her breathing making the late hour feel a little less lonely.

And as her grip on your waist tightens just slightly, like she’s holding onto you in her sleep, you think to yourself that maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed this.

[amirasainz]

Hi literally get so excited when you update! Can you write one where charles x alexandra x reader where charles and alex are away for an event and forget that it's the reader birthday ans only remember when someone tells them birthday it and they try and make it up to her.

Hi loves. I hope you enjoy this little piece. Let me know what you think. Comments are always apreciated!I'm sorry,but the Sydney Sweeny picture was perfect, so I had to include it😉

Also, question (and please answer me that in the comments), does anyone read what I write before the story? Like the little message here? I'm just curious❤️

Enjoy reading and send me requests!!❤️

-XoXo

The Birthday disaster

You couldn’t believe it. They weren’t here. They didn’t call, text, or even send you a freaking letter. Your own boyfriend and girlfriend forgot your birthday. And not just any birthday, it was your 21 birthday. Instead of celebrating with Alex, Charles, and all of your friends in a vibrant club, you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment. Despite the cold wind hitting your bare skin mercilessly, thanks to the cute short dress you wore today, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back inside.

Of course, your friends tried to get you to come out with them to celebrate your birthday properly. But it just hurt too much, and to be honest, your mind was too tired and sad for any kind of festivity.

When Charles and Alex first informed you about the event hosted by one of Alex’s friends, they eagerly asked you to join them. Unfortunately, your job didn’t allow you to tag along, which both of them understood. However, they promised you that they would return today at around 5 o’clock. To be honest, you thought they had something special planned for your birthday. But last night, at around 11 pm, you received a text from Alex, informing you that they would be staying longer in Venice, where the event was held.

At first, you thought this was some kind of joke. Maybe they wanted you to think that they weren’t able to celebrate with you, only to surprise you with a birthday party. But sadly, when you woke up this morning, nothing happened. Throughout the day, there was complete silence between you and them.

Your group of friends, who had been with you a few hours ago to at least celebrate your birthday a little bit, tried to convince you to go out and party with them. Before you could agree, you got a notification from Instagram. You were tagged quite often in a post showing Alex and Charles at the event. They looked so happy and carefree, making you feel even more numb.

Despite their best efforts, your friends left after half an hour, after you reassured them with phrases like “Yes, I will take care of myself,” “Yes, I will call you if I need anything,” and “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.” They knew you were anything but fine; however, they also knew that you needed to be alone right now.

So here you are, sitting alone in the cold with your only companions being the vodka bottle you brought with you and the relentless wind hitting your skin. “Happy fucking 21st birthday to me, I guess,” you muttered to yourself, staring out at the sea.

“Oh my god, Lisa. You truly outdid yourself,” complimented Alex, her friend. And it was true. The event was filled with beautiful flowers and lights, giving the room a fairy-like appearance. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the petals, creating a magical ambiance that made everyone feel like they had stepped into an enchanted garden. Charles, who stood next to his girlfriend, only brought her closer to him and said, “Yeah, I have to agree. I’m 100% sure YN would have loved it.” “You are so right, love. I wish she was here with us,” agreed Alex, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Wait, I’m confused. So there is nothing wrong between you guys and YN?” asked Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion. Alex and Charles shared a look with each other, both of them equally puzzled. “No, why would there be anything wrong with us?” Alex replied, her tone defensive. “Oh, I just thought you had a fight and this is the reason why you are here and not with YN today. But I must have been wrong…” Linda’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She shared a look with her partner Mary, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Wait, stop. Pause. Why would we be with YN tonight? You invited us to your event and we are here. I don’t get what’s going on right now,” said Alex, her frustration mounting. It felt like Mary and Lisa knew something she and Charles didn’t. Mary, who was now also becoming more annoyed with how the two of them acted before them, didn’t take any nonsense from Alex.

Without hesitation, she looked straight into Alex’s eyes and told her with an ice-cold voice, “Well, we weren’t expecting you to show up today because we thought that you would be busy celebrating YN’s 21 birthday today. But from the looks of it, it seems like you forgot your own girlfriend’s birthday. So don’t talk to us with that rude tone of yours. At least we remember each other’s birthdays.” With that, Mary took Lisa by the hand and left, leaving Alex and Charles standing there in stunned silence.

Alex and Charles were left behind, both staring at the space where the couple used to be a few seconds ago. Both of them felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over them. How could they forget their own girlfriend’s birthday? Turning on their phones, they saw the flood of messages they had received from not only their fans but also their friends, YN’s friends, and their families. Each message was a painful reminder of their oversight.

“We messed up so badly,” muttered Charles, looking at Alex with a pained expression. The woman could only nod, still speechless. Charles took her arm and gently but firmly led her out of the room. “We have to go to her. ASAP,” Alex told Charles, who was already a step ahead of her and had their jackets in hand. With that, the couple left the event, both feeling a deep sense of remorse. How could they forget their girl’s birthday?

As they hurried to their car, Alex’s mind raced with thoughts of how to make it up to YN. She knew it would take more than just an apology to mend the hurt they had caused. Charles, too, was lost in his thoughts, thinking of ways to show YN how much she meant to them. They both knew that they had a lot of making up to do, but they were determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

At around 1 am, the couple finally arrived home. The ride back had been silent, the air in the car feeling oppressively thick, making it hard to breathe. They parked their car in the garage and, without hesitation, jumped out of the vehicle, racing towards the elevator. The few minutes it took to reach their front door felt like an eternity, each second stretching painfully.

When they entered the apartment, everything was shrouded in darkness. A figure sat on the balcony, barely visible in the dim light. Charles immediately sat next to YN, while Alex kneeled in front of her. YN didn’t even look at them before taking a gulp from the nearly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey love, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” whispered Charles, gently trying to take the bottle away from the now 21-year-old girl.

YN shook her head, her voice trembling as she reminded them, “No. NO, you do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not after you forgot about me.” “Baby, we didn’t forget about you,” Alex tried, her eyes already filling with tears. YN only laughed, her own tears streaming down her face. “No, Alexandra. You do not get to tell me that after you forgot my birthday, and you certainly don’t get to cry.” “Ok, let’s all calm down,” Charles attempted again, his voice soothing but firm.

“No Charles! I don’t want to calm down. You both forgot about me. You two promised me that something like this would never happen to us. You promised me that you would always love me. You promised me that the age gap didn’t bother you when we started dating when I was 19. But look at us. You already broke one of your promises. How can I be sure that you won’t break another one?” With that, YN broke down in tears. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, her head held in her hands.

Charles and Alex immediately moved to comfort her. “YN, breath. We are so freaking sorry. I guarantee you, we didn’t mean for something like this to happen. We were all so busy with our jobs and social lives that we didn’t mean to forget something so important,” Charles began, his voice filled with regret.

Alex took YN’s head into her hands, gently wiping away her tears. “We love you more than anything in this world. You are our air and our heart. And we will apologize for the rest of our lives if we have to,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. YN only whispered, “I love you guys too.” Alex didn't hesitate before kissing her girlfriend. after a moment the they pulled apart.

Charles turned her face towards him, speaking softly, “And we didn’t lie when we told you the age gap didn’t bother us. And we certainly didn’t lie when we promised you that we would always love you, ok?” After YN nodded, Letting Charles also kiss her. This kiss was filled with as much love as Alex, just a bit more urgently but still gentle. After their kiss, the three of them cuddled close to each other, finding solace in their shared warmth.

It would take some time before everything was alright between the three of them again. But for now, sitting together and watching the city lights flicker in the distance was the perfect way to start healing.

[wendsky]

birthday disaster

wednesday addams x !outcast!fem!reader

a birthday surprise for your girlfriend turns out to be a disaster.

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You stood in the middle of your shared dorm room, eyeing the decorations with nervous anticipation. Bright strings of lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting colorful glows across the room, and a small banner that read "Happy Birthday, Wednesday!" hung over the window. It was simple but heartfelt, something you had agonized over for days. Parties weren’t Wednesday’s thing—you knew that. But when you mentioned wanting to do something special for her, Enid had enthusiastically jumped in to help you plan. She assured you that Wednesday, despite her stoic nature, would appreciate the effort.

But now, as you finished setting up the last of the small black cupcakes (because no birthday party for Wednesday could ever be without some shade of darkness), you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at your gut.

Enid walked in, beaming. "Wow, this place looks amazing! Wednesday’s going to love it, I’m sure of it!"

You forced a smile, trying to let her energy lift your spirits. "I hope so. She’s… not exactly the party type."

"True," Enid chirped, grabbing one of the cupcakes and taking a bite, "but it’s her birthday. And when you’re in a relationship, sometimes you have to let the other person spoil you a little, right? She’ll get it."

You nodded, but the doubts still lingered. Wednesday wasn’t like anyone else. She was unique, complex, and hard to read—qualities that had drawn you to her in the first place. But those same qualities made moments like this feel uncertain.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and there she was—Wednesday Addams. Dressed in her usual black attire, her dark braids falling over her shoulders, she stepped into the room. Her eyes flicked to the decorations, then to you, her expression unreadable.

"Happy birthday," you said softly, feeling suddenly small under her steady gaze.

Wednesday stared at the banner, the lights, the cupcakes, and then at you. "What… is this?"

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up. "I thought we could celebrate a little, just us and Enid. It’s your birthday, and I wanted to make it special for you."

Her eyes lingered on the decorations, her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing for a long moment, and the silence hung in the air like a weight. Finally, she nodded, though her expression remained distant. "How thoughtful."

The words were polite, but they lacked her usual warmth or any excitement, and you felt a twinge of unease.

Enid, ever the optimist, took the lead, dragging Wednesday further into the room to look at the food and games she had helped set up. You tried to join in, but something in Wednesday’s posture told you she wasn’t enjoying any of this. Her responses were curt, and she barely glanced at the cupcakes you had painstakingly decorated with tiny skulls. It was like watching a storm brewing—dark, silent, and inevitable.

The party carried on for about an hour before Wednesday stepped away to talk to Enid near the window. You were busy cleaning up some stray cupcake crumbs when you overheard their conversation.

"I fail to see the point of this," Wednesday said, her voice low but audible enough for you to hear.

Enid, ever cheerful, responded with a laugh. "It’s just for fun, Wednesday. Your girlfriend worked really hard to make this special for you."

"Yes, and I appreciate the effort," Wednesday replied, her tone cool, "but I do not enjoy frivolous activities like this. I find them a waste of time."

You froze. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, the air seeming to leave the room. She wasn’t enjoying it. Everything you’d done, all the careful planning, the decorations, the cupcakes—it was all pointless to her.

You turned away, not wanting to hear any more. The party that had already felt fragile now crumbled completely in your heart. You had wanted to make her happy, to give her something special on her birthday, but you had failed.

Without a word, you slipped out of the room, leaving Enid and Wednesday behind. The chill of the hallway felt like a slap to the face as you made your way outside, seeking solace in the quiet night. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this hurt, but you couldn’t help it.

For the next few days, you found yourself pulling away from Wednesday. You still saw her, of course—Nevermore wasn’t big enough for you to avoid her entirely—but you avoided long conversations, made excuses to leave early, and kept your emotions tightly locked away. The distance between you grew, but Wednesday, in her usual obliviousness to social cues, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care.

Until one day, she did.

It had been nearly a week since the failed birthday party when Wednesday finally cornered you in the library, her sharp gaze locking onto you as you tried to avoid her.

"You’ve been avoiding me," she stated bluntly, stepping closer.

You flinched at her directness but didn’t deny it. "I’ve been busy."

"Lying does not suit you," Wednesday said, her eyes narrowing. "What’s going on?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Why do you care? You didn’t care when I tried to do something nice for you."

Wednesday’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes darkened with realization. "This is about the birthday party."

You stared at the bookshelves, unable to meet her gaze. "I heard what you said to Enid. About how it was a waste of time."

There was a long silence, and when Wednesday finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual. "I never intended for you to hear that."

"Well, I did," you snapped, the hurt you’d been holding back pouring out now. "I worked so hard to make it special for you, even though I knew parties weren’t your thing. I just wanted you to feel appreciated, but you didn’t care."

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she stood there, her mind clearly working through what you had said. Her expression softened, ever so slightly, as she stepped closer to you.

"I am not accustomed to… celebrations," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "But I did not mean to hurt you."

You looked up at her, eyes searching her face for any sign of sincerity. "It felt like you didn’t care."

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw something in her eyes you hadn’t seen before—regret. "I may not understand why people enjoy such activities, but that does not mean I do not appreciate the effort you put into it."

The tension in your chest eased slightly, but the hurt was still there. "Then why didn’t you say anything?"

"I didn’t know how," she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don’t express emotions like you do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice how much you cared."

You were silent for a moment, processing her words. Wednesday’s emotions had always been difficult to read, buried beneath layers of sarcasm and stoicism. But now, standing so close to her, you could see the truth in her eyes.

"I’m sorry," she said, and those two words were more sincere than anything you had ever heard from her.

Your heart softened, the walls you had built up over the past few days slowly crumbling. You sighed, the tension leaving your body. "I just wanted you to feel special on your birthday."

Wednesday reached out, her cool hand gently brushing against yours. "You did."

And in that moment, you realized that even though Wednesday wasn’t one for grand gestures or traditional affection, she did care—in her own, quiet, dark way.

You squeezed her hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Next year, we can skip the party. I’ll just get you a nice, grim murder mystery novel."

Wednesday’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "That would be preferable."

And just like that, the silence between you two was filled again—not with words, but with understanding.

a/n: i had this in the drafts for abit, hopefully this is a good read.

[leclerc-hs]

lucky pt. 2 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: in which you and your childhood best friend, are most definitely in love, but it's too complicated (or is it?) Warnings: most french edited by @softtdaisy (shoutout to her!!), SMUT, angst, 18+, not proofread Word Count: 2,695 Author's Note: I absolutely loved writing this!! I know I said I would wait for the poll to end but I think we can just do bonus scenes in the future if wanted!! xoxo PART 1 BONUS

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Imbécile,” Idiot. Arthur throws a piece of his balled-up napkin, hitting you right in the face. “Maman wants you there, pas d’excuses.” No excuses.

It had been almost two weeks since you and Charles last spoke. The both of you far too stubborn to bring up the argument you last had. Instead, you ignored the problem at hand. By not seeing each other. Sunday dinner at Pascale’s was a weekly occurrence. One that you failed to attend last week, and it was shame on you if you missed another because of Charles.

You release a heavy sigh, acknowledging that you’re about to yield and head over to Pascale’s. After all, it’s not entirely her fault that her son seems to be obvlious to certain things. 

“Il est fou amoureux de toi!” He is in love with you! Arthur exclaims softly as he notices your eyes won’t stray from the icy window of the café you are both seated in. You felt your throat tighten at the phrase.

“Ce n’est pas grave, Arthur,” It doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Him being in love with you wasn’t always enough, or so you thought. He could barely commit to his ex-girlfriend. Could he commit to you? You couldn’t handle losing him if it didn’t work out. It was a recipe for disaster to begin with.

The two of you didn’t realize how dark it was already getting. Meaning you were for sure late to Pascale’s.

“Tu viendras avec moi?” Will you come with me?

“Bien sur.” Of course. You couldn’t not go. One, because you knew nothing but seeing Pascale will put a smile on your face. Two, Arthur wouldn’t let you leave this café without dragging you to his Maman’s first. 

It was a short drive from the café to Pascale’s place. The limited size of the principality made the journey quick, allowing you to take in the charming scenery along the way. As you approached Pascale’s home, a smile graced your lips at the sight of the festive decorations adorning the steps.

Pascale’s touch was evident in the small Christmas trees, their lights casting a warm glow that sparkled beside the front door. The holiday spirit infused the air, creating a sense of coziness and anticipation. 

The warmth of Pascale’s home enveloped you as Arthur swung the door open. His hand gently found its place on the small of your back, guiding you inside with a gesture that spoke of familiarity and care.

He assisted you in shedding the layers of clothes you wore. Your scarf and jacket were in his hands, swiftly finding their place on the nearby coat rack. Amidst the exchange, laughter bubbled up, a spontaneous reaction to the slightly comical struggle Arthur faced in unraveling the scarf from your neck.

The sound of shared laughter echoed through the entrance and into the home, allowing the others to become alert of your presence.

“Que se passe t’il?” What’s going on? You felt your laugh stop almost instantly.

Charles’ question hung in the air, and for a moment you were caught off guard. The warmth of Pascale’s cozy home surrounded you, but the sudden seriousness in his tone made you pause. You looked into his eyes, searching for any hints of the playful banter that usually characterized your interactions.

He stood not too far away, a soft white hoodie and a casual pair of jeans on. You felt your heart clench with want. You missed him. You wanted to hug him and never let go.

“Rien, juste une journée un peu folle,” Nothing, just a bit of a crazy day. You replied with a sheepish smile. Your attempt to brush off the question with a casual response didn’t escape Charles notice. He studied your face for a moment, trying to decipher your emotions. 

Arthur, sensing some tension, guided you towards the living room and past Charles. As you both settled into the inviting cushions, the crackling sounds from the fireplace filled the room with a soothing rhythm.

Pascale entered the room carrying two glasses of wine. “Ma fille,” My girl she says, a term of endearment feeling much like a warm embrace to you. Pascale handed you one of the glasses with a tender smile, sealing the gesture with a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

Charles’s unease didn’t go unnoticed as he took a seat on the sofa across from you and Arthur. The atmosphere seemed charged with tension, and Pascale’s seemingly casual question carried a weight that went beyond mere curiosity.

“Est-ce que tu vois quelqu’un?” Are you seeing anybody? Pascale asked, her tone gentle but perceptive. The question, on the surface, appeared to be a routine inquiry about your romantic life. However, the underlying context hinted at a concern born out of a missed dinner and deviation from the usual routine. 

The atmosphere in the room shifted as you became acutely aware of Charles’s intense gaze beside Pascale. Seated on the couch, his eyes bore into you with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very core of your being. His eyes, like embers, conveyed a myriad of emotions – curiosity, intensity, and perhaps a touch of scrutiny. 

“Maman, laisse-la tranquille,” Leave her alone. Arthur speaks before you can. A sense of relief filling you up as you take a large gulp of the red wine in your glass.

Pascale scrunches her eyes at Arthur, poised to deliver a retort that only she knows. However, before any words escape her lips, the timer in the kitchen interrupts the moment. “Arthur, viens m’aider.” Come help me. Arthur gives you a sympathetic look before leaving the room following Pascale. 

Lost in thought, your gaze fixates on the flickering flames within the fireplace. The dancing firelight casts shadows that capture your attention, creating a mesmerizing display that seems more captivating than acknowledging a brooding Charles, seated across from you.

“Tu ne peux pas m’ignorer éternellement,” You can’t ignore me forever. His voice interrupts your train of thought, gently pulling you back into the present moment.

The solitary sentence prompts an immediate eye roll from you. How dare he? How dare he pretend that you’re the only one at fault?

“Ne lève pas les yeux au ciel en me regardant,” Don’t roll your eyes at me. The atmosphere shifted as he rose from his seat on the couch, undoubtedly making his way to occupy the now vacant spot beside you. However, the nature of his touch became more intimate than you anticipated. His hands ventured onto your thigh, traveling higher than the boundaries of a typical friendship would permit. 

In a disconcerting turn of events, his other hand gripped your jaw, redirecting your gaze to meet his. The sudden change in physical proximity and the assertiveness of his actions left palpable tension in the air.

“Vas y,” Make me. You provoked him deliberately, seeking to burrow beneath his skin, much like he had already done under yours.

“Viens chez moi.” Come home with me. It wasn’t posed as a question; rather, it was a firm demand – one you were aware you would yield to. You didn’t need to articulate your response; he could discern it just by the slow flicker of your eyes to his. Without another word, you withdrew your chin from his hands and stood up, making your way into the kitchen, and leaving him behind. 

“Nous avons des choses à discuter.” We have more to discuss. You hear him say loud enough for you to hear but low enough for no one else to hear before you cross into the threshold of the kitchen. 

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Discuss.

You laughed mentally at the word. You and Charles were indisputably not engaging in anything resembling a discussion, that much was certain. Unless you consider the dirty phrases, he’s whispering in your ear a discussion.

“Tu es tellement sexy,” You’re so hot. Charles moans into your mouth as he pushes you onto his unmade bed, falling with you in the process. Both of your clothes were long gone— strewn along the pathway you took from his front door to his bed. “Faite pour moi, putain.” Fucking made for me.

He didn’t know where to look, darting from your thighs to your lips to your unforgettable eyes. His jaw flexed as he let out a soft growl deep in his chest as his finger hooked into the band of your delicate silk panties and ripped them from your body. “Je t’en achèterai advantage.” I’ll buy you more. 

He was so impatient. Couldn’t even wait until he tossed your panties to the side before his mouth was on your center. You gasped as his lips enveloped your sensitive clit and getting a full taste of you. He moaned, dipping his tongue inside of you.

You really believed you could die right here and now. He pulled away momentarily just to look at you, glistening and moaning beneath him. It was a sight he wanted to burn in his memory forever. 

“Tu me rends fou." You drive me insane.

You couldn’t stop moaning. You wanted to tell him that he was the one who drove you insane. That the feeling was more than mutual. But you were incoherent with pleasure. Incapable of words.

He curved two fingers inside of you, almost instantly rubbing your g-spot. “Yeah?” He edged you on. His words alone pushing you to the threshold of your orgasm. “Tu aimes ça?” You like that?

His words were nearly as perilous as his touch. He was smirking above you like the cocky motherfucker he was. You felt delusional as his fingers stroked your g-spot continuously that when he flipped you over and pulled you up to your knees, you let out a shriek of surprise. 

You felt your orgasm closing in as he refused to let up on the assault of your clit. Your orgasm came so fast, you couldn’t even warn Charles before you were trembling all over his fingers.

“Oui, soak me.” Your orgasm was explosive, you could feel your legs shaking. Before you could even recover from the last orgasm, Charles was bringing his fingers that were coated in you to his mouth.

“J'ai vraiment besoin de toi,” I really need you. You muttered softly. The confession so raw. It made Charles heart clench with need to ravish you completely. To ruin you for anybody else.

His grip on your hips tightened as he slipped himself inside of you, eliciting a loud groan. “Mon dieu,”My God.  He moaned. “Tu me fais me sentir si bien,” You make me feel so good.

Your pussy clenched tightly around him at his words. His breaths were jagged and heavy in your ear as he took you harder and harder. 

“Ma salope,” My slut. He groaned, bottoming himself out. “My lucky.”

He could tell that you were there already again, the way you were squeezing him so tight and the clench of your hands trying to support you on the mattress. 

“C’est si bien que ça?,” Is it that nice? “Gonna come for me?”

You did. Your eyes wet with tears from the intensity as his hands squeezed your hips, leaving bruises. He didn’t stop the assault on your pussy, kept pounding into you. He was ruthless.

He threw his head back with a string of curses before pressing soft kisses to your back. He didn’t bother to pull out. He wanted you full of him. In all ways, shapes, and forms. He was selfish. You were thankfully on the pill. He held himself there for a few moments before pulling out and rolling you over to your back so you could face him. He buried his face into your neck, leaving small gentle kisses as you both caught your breath. 

Eventually Charles was able to find the strength to stand and clean you up, pressing a warm cloth to your center as he peppered small kisses to the inside of your thighs. You felt your heart flutter as he tossed the cloth into the hamper and joined you back in the bed, pulling you into his chest under the covers.

You could feel his mind was running a million miles a minute as he traced small circles on your skin. He wanted to ask if you went on any other dates. But he couldn’t handle if you said yes. 

“Qu’est-ce que tu as en tête?” What’s on your mind? You asked.

You were preparing for yet another fight. There was no escaping it any longer. The only sound that filled the air was both of your breathing.

“Je veux que tu sois mienne.” I want you to be mine. As you lay on his chest, you sensed his heartbeat quickening. In response, a soft laugh escaped you, uncertain of how to reply. The weight of your reaction hung heavy in the air, adding more pressure. 

You had to put a stop to this. You felt the panic constricting your throat. You couldn’t continue down this path with him. As you tried to sit up and distance yourself from Charles, his hand swiftly seized your arm, compelling you back towards him. He was determined to make you stay, refusing to let you escape from this conversation any longer.

“Non, arête de fuir le sujet,” No, stop running away from it. He insisted, urging you to stop evading it.  “Il sait déjà que tu m’aimes,” I already know that you love me. He declared, his words rushing out of him uncontrollably. It was as if he couldn’t halt the flow, a sense of panic palpable in his voice. 

You loved him; it wasn’t a secret. Fear held you back. The thought of losing him permanently if things didn’t work out was too daunting. So, you’ve tried to maintain a distance, but it was futile. It was as if he had become your vital source of oxygen – indispensable. You found yourself inextricably linked; your souls entwined. 

“Je ne veux pas te perdre!” I don’t want to lose you. You felt the words rush out of your mouth in a frenzy. His touch, his stare, this conversation was all too much to handle. 

“Je t’aime!” I love you! He repeated it over and over. He wouldn’t stop. You could see the anger forming in his face with each proclamation he made. He was angry. Why wouldn’t you listen? Why wouldn’t you believe him?

“Je suis bien avec toi!” I feel good when I’m with you!

“Tu me plait!” You make me happy!

“J’ai envie de t’embrasser!” I want to kiss you!

“Sans toi, je ne suis rien!” Without you, I am nothing!

“Tu es l’amour de ma vie!” You’re the love of my life!

“Je veux passer ma vie avec toi!” I want to spend my life with you!

“Mon dieu, I even breathe better when I’m with you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, but he persisted, like a broken record playing an urgent message. His need for you to understand was palpable. He laid bare his soul, expressing that if it wasn’t for you, it would be no one. The pain in his chest mirrored the intensity of his emotions.

His hands held you tightly, rendering you incapable of moving. He needed you close. In response, you brought your hands to his face, swiftly pressing your lips against his.

You felt him grab your face during the kiss, his thumbs brushing the tears from your eyes in the process. 

“You’re mine. My lucky,” he broke the kiss. “You’ve always been mine.”

Your gazes locked, and you held each other’s eyes for an extended moment, as if attempting to decipher the entirety of each other’s thoughts through this intense connection.

“Oui?” He asked softly, seeking confirmation. He needed to hear you say you were his, a moment he had been waiting for his entire life.  He knew he had you now. But he wanted your words.

You recognized there was no longer an option to escape. You belonged to him, and it wasn’t up for discussion. He possessed your heart and soul entirely. You knew that you needed to take a risk. A risk for him. 

You nodded your head slowly, “Oui.”

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[ningningeve]

⋆˚࿔ ℒove in the mix .ᐟ daniela avanzini

daniela suggests a baking day at home, even though neither of you is particularly skilled in the kitchen. what starts as a simple idea quickly turns into a delightful disaster.

pairing daniela avanzini x fem reader, established relationship genre fluff wc 1.6k

♫ — stuck with u - ariana grande, justin bieber

it feels like years since you last saw your girlfriend, daniela. between your packed schedule as a full-time college student and her whirlwind of a life as an international idol, finding quality time together has been almost impossible. even the phone calls you manage to exchange always feel far too short.

but this week, everything changes. daniela managed to carve out a short break in her busy schedule just to spend time with you, and you couldn’t be happier.

now, you’re standing at the airport, bundled up in your favorite sweats and sweater, nervously fidgeting with the drawstring of your hoodie. the lively conversations and the occasional sound of luggage rolling by do little to calm the excitement bubbling in your chest. it’s been so long since you’ve last seen daniela in person, and the thought of finally wrapping her in your arms again makes your heart race.

you glance at the arrivals board for what feels like the hundredth time, checking to make sure her flight hasn’t been delayed. the wait feels endless, but you know it will all be worth it the moment you see her walking through those sliding doors.

its almost as if you’d sense her arrival. the moment your eyes flick to the sliding doors. there she is. her curly blonde hair catches the light, looking as beautiful as ever, and the familiar, heart-melting smile spreads across her face— the one she saves just for you. for a second, the noise of the bustling airport faded away, and it’s like the world narrows down to just the two of you.

she continues walking towards you, her eyes sparkling with warmth, and you feel your breath hitch. it doesn’t matter how long it’s been or how far apart you’ve been. in this moment, everything feels right again.

the moment daniela is within arm’s reach, she lets her bags fall to the floor with a soft thud and closes the distance between you. her arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you into the kind of hug you’ve been dreaming of for months. she buries her face in your shoulder, her curls brushing against your cheek as the faint, familiar scent of her floral perfume, wraps around you.

“i love you,” she whispers, her voice so soft only you can hear it. it makes your heart swell.

as if holding her close could make up for all the lost time. for a moment, nothing else matters. not the bustling crowds, not the announcements overhead. just her, safe and real in your arms.

“i love you too,” you murmur softly. the words feel so natural, like they’ve been waiting to fall from your lips since the last time you saw her.

by the time you arrive at your shared apartment, the excitement of being together hasn’t faded. you help daniela unpack her things, placing her belongings in their usual spots while she tells you stories about her travels. even though you already know most of the details from your daily phone calls.

as the afternoon sun streams through the windows, daniela suddenly brings up an idea. “let’s bake something together!” she exclaims. neither of you is particularly skilled in the kitchen, but the thought of spending more time together… it’s impossible to say no.

before long, you’re in the grocery store, wandering the aisles with a small shopping list in hand. daniela insists on making a blueberry pie—her current favorite dessert. she tosses a box of cookies into the cart “just in case,” and you add an extra pint of blueberries, knowing full well some will never make it into the pie.

daniela manages to sneak a few candies from the bulk section while you pretend not to notice. by the time you check out, the cart holds far more than you planned, but neither of you mind.

later that evening, with the groceries spread out on the counter and the recipe open on your phone, the fun begins.

you start by preparing the crust, mixing flour, sugar, and a pinch of salt in a large bowl. daniela insists on cutting the butter into the mixture herself, declaring, “i’ve got this!” as she carefully works it in with her hands. “does this look crumbly enough?” she asks, holding up a handful of the mixture. you laugh and nod, reaching over to steal a bit of the dough and earning a playful nudge from her elbow.

next comes rolling out the crust. the two of you take turns with the rolling pin, softly giggling as the dough sticks to the counter despite your best efforts to sprinkle enough flour. eventually, you manage to press it into the pie dish.

for the filling, daniela measures out the blueberries, sneaking a few into her mouth when she thinks you aren’t looking. “stop! you’ll eat the whole filling at this point!” you tease, swatting her hand away as she grins that silly smile. together, you mix the blueberries with sugar, a pinch of cinnamon, and a squeeze of lemon juice.

carefully, you pour the filling into the crust, and daniela gets to work on the lattice top. her eyebrows knit together in concentration as she weaves the strips of dough, a look so adorable you can’t help but smile. “am i a baking expert or what?” she says proudly, stepping back to admire her work. you can’t help but let out a small laugh and nod your head yes.

by the time you slide the pie into the oven, the kitchen is a complete mess—flour on the counters, sugar dusting the floor, and a few stray blueberries rolling around—but neither of you cares. daniela leans against you with a contented sigh, her arms wrapping around your waist. “we make a pretty good team,” she murmurs, her voice warm with affection.

everything seems to be going smoothly as the pie bakes in the oven, the sweet aroma of blueberries filling the kitchen. but, as you clean up the counter, a creeping sense of unease starts to build. something doesn’t seem right. daniela notices your furrowed brow and asks, “what’s up?”

you glance at the recipe on your phone, then back at the empty measuring cups on the counter. your stomach sinks. “i think… i forgot the cornstarch,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

daniela tilts her head. “is that bad?”

your heart drops. “it’s the thing that thickens the filling. without it, the pie will probably be a soupy mess.”

daniela bursts out laughing, trying to lighten the mood, but you don’t join in. instead, the weight of everything—the messy kitchen, the forgotten cornstarch, and the pressure you put on yourself to make this day perfect—comes crashing down.

as you try to salvage the moment, disaster strikes again. while pulling the pie from the oven to check on it, daniela accidentally tips the edge of the dish against the oven rack. the lattice top slides to the side, and some of the filling sloshes over the edge and onto the bottom of the oven, sizzling and smoking.

panic sets in as you grab a towel and fan the smoke detector, but it’s too late. the piercing alarm fills the apartment, and you can’t hold back anymore. tears blur your vision as you set the towel down and press your palms to your face.

“i just wanted today to be perfect,” you choke out, your voice trembling. “you’ve been gone for so long, and i thought-”

daniela’s arms are around you in an instant, pulling you into her chest. she strokes your back gently, murmuring, “hey, it’s okay. don’t cry. it’s just a pie.”

you shake your head. “it’s not just the pie. i just… i wanted to do something nice for you. i wanted it to feel special.”

she pulls back slightly to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “you being here with me is what makes it special. i don’t care if the pie is perfect or if the kitchen looks like a war zone. i care about you.”

her words are soft and sincere, and despite your tears, you feel a small smile tugging at your lips. “even if the pie is soup?”

“especially if the pie is soup,” she teases, earning a soft laugh from you.

daniela wipes away your tears with her thumbs, her gentle smile never faltering. “come on,” she says, her voice soft yet playful. “let’s clean up and give this pie a second chance. worst case, we’ll just grab ice cream and eat it out the tub.”

her lightheartedness makes you laugh, and you nod, letting her pull you toward the mess. together, you tackle the chaos—blueberries on the counter, flour on the floor, and the slightly lopsided pie cooling on the stove. It’s not perfect, but by the time the kitchen is somewhat back in order, it feels like home again.

later, you both sit on the couch, the salvaged pie between you on a plate, topped with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. daniela takes a bite first and immediately breaks into a grin. “okay, it’s not so bad. definitely not soup,” she says, holding out her fork to you.

you try it and let out a small laugh. “you’re right. it’s… edible.”

she leans her head on your shoulder, her voice warm and teasing. “i think we should make this a tradition. every time i come home, we’ll bake something and see how it goes. disaster or not.”

you glance up at her, her golden curls falling across her face as she smiles contentedly. your heart feels full, and you realize that it doesn’t matter if the day wasn’t perfect. daniela’s here, and that’s what truly matters.

“deal,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to her plush pink lips.

the pie might not win any awards, but as you sit together, laughing and sharing bites, it feels like the most perfect thing in the world.