#but he did reach out to sophie so *shrugs*

[verstappwn]

Je Spreekt Nederlands?

m. verstappen x fem!reader all rights reserved to @verstappwn

prompt: reader goes to the netherlands to meet her boyfriend’s family for the first time, showing off her dutch language’s skills, catching max really off guard.

warnings: explicit sex, +18, swearing, p in v, doggy style, fem! oral, unprotected, degrading words.

The droplets of water were flowing freely down the car window as the Netherlands’ skies raged above the city. It wasn’t the prettiest of days as you and your boyfriend, Max, traveled down the streets towards his childhood home, the day seemed to almost match your mood as you two stopped by the porch of Max’s old place. A nice house with a big garden and wooden ceilings was the sight you were greeted with as your boyfriend killed the engine and stared at you. 

“Did you bring enough coats?”, Max kindly asks, furrowing his brows, causing small worry wrinkles to turn up around his icy blue eyes, “You’re trembling. I told you how het Nederland were around this time of the year and you didn’t-”

You cut him short after he starts rambling and worrying about the apparent reason for your shaking hands. “Max. I’m not cold”, you say in small pauses, reaching out to touch his hand, “I’m nervous”. Max’s brain seems to short-circuit. Your words making his brows furrow even further and his eyes narrow. “Nervous?”, he repeats, testing the words in his tongue, “You’re nervous about… meeting my parents?”. The thought of you being anxious seems unbelievable to him, the woman in front of him is the physical representation of calm and collected, and on top of that, the sweetest, kindest and most perfect woman in this world, that is on his eyes. You can’t be nervous, if you’re nervous then he should be sweating.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you bite back, nervous, fidgeting with your fingers as the rain seems to calm for a bit, making your exit off the car even more eminent. Max tilts his head “Schatje”, he calls softly, reaching for your face and cupping your cheek “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s my mom and my sister’s family, it’s just us”, he tilts your head so you’re looking at him, “And they’re gonna love you, baby. Just like I do”, Max leans forward and plants a gentle kiss to your lips, his fingertips brushing and caressing softly at your cheek, “Okay? I love you,” he repeats, pausing his words as if to convey their intensity.

You let out a deep breath, sighing after the kiss as you open your eyes and are met with your boyfriend’s kind blue eyes. “Okay”, you say softly, caressing his calloused hand, “Love you too”.

He squeezes your hand, stepping out of the car and rushing through the rain to get to the passenger side, suitcase in hand. He opens the door for you and intertwines your fingers with his free hand. “It’s gonna be okay,” Max smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Max knocked on the door, a smile on his face as he waited for it to open, his hand firmly holding yours to calm you down. “Kom eraan!”, (coming!) a female voice called out in Dutch, the door opening to show the face of a kind middle-aged woman with dark hair, “Max! Hoi, mijn liefste”, (hi, my dear) she said with a kind smile, pulling your boyfriend in for a hug, “Hoe gaat het?”, (how are you?), Max smiles at his mom and simply shrugs, placing a small kiss to her cheek as if to call her attention. Max’s mom turns to find your shy face at his side, “Oh! And you must be the girlfriend! I’m Sophie, Max’s mom,” Sophie pulls you in for a small hug, a smile on her face.

“Leuk je te ontmoeten, Sophie”, (nice to meet you, Sophie) you whisper softly, quietly, fidgeting with your fingers as your gaze falls to the porch’s floor.

Max’s jaw drops, his blonde brows furrowing as he stares at you, hearing the words in his language flowing out of your mouth, effortlessly. Sophie opens a warm smile, gasping. “Oh Max! She speaks Dutch!”, she exclaims excitedly, “Oh this is wonderful,”. You smile softly, shifting uncomfortably under her excited gaze, Max’s hand moving to sooth your lower back as he chuckles dry, “Yeah, wonderful”.

Max watches as you chatted with his mom and sister, a bright smile on your face as you let yourself get loose around them; his language flowing off your tongue as if it was just a normal Tuesday for you. Not for him. Max had to go upstairs and take out his skinny jeans to cover what hearing your voice in that sultry Dutch, did to him, and putting on a pair of loose pants.

Victoria’s kids were already put to bed by her husband Tom, as the four of you sat around the kitchen island, sipping some red wine while they got to know you better. You had quickly realized just how alike Max was to his sister and how he inherited his kind manners from his mom, laughing about childhood stories they would tell you about your boyfriend. You giggled at a particularly adorable one about him being mad at the SIM as a kid and turned around to look at him. But he wasn’t laughing. He was staring at you, face pinker than usual and fists clenched, but you simply ignored.

Max stared at you as you talked with the two women, his jaw clenched as he crossed his legs, trying to fix the bulge showing through his pants. He pictured you whispering in Dutch on his ear on that same sultry tone, your hands tracing his torso with your fingertips, pressing wet, languid kisses down his stomach till the waistband of his pants-

“Denk dat we wat moeten rusten,” (Think we should get some rest) Max announced after a while, his voice hoarse and his brows furrowed. You frowned at him, “Maar het is nog vroeg,” (But it’s still early) you whined softly, his sister and mom agreeing. “Schatje. Let’s go,” he said through his teeth, his jaw clenched and tone firm in a way that left no room for discussion.

You stood up from the island stools and scratched the back of your neck, “Goeinacht,” (G’night) you said with a soft smile at Victoria and Sophie who smiled back and waved goodnight to you and Max while you two made your way up the stairs. It was still fairly early, about 9 PM, so you truly didn’t understand why your boyfriend was pulling you up towards the guest room claiming you two needed rest when you spent a long time sleeping at his jet on the way here.

“What’s going on?” you ask with furrowed brows as you step into the bedroom, closing the door you move to stare at your boyfriend’s eyes, palms on his chest and worried eyes. “Nothing, liefde”, he kisses your forehead with a softer smile, though you can see how his pupils are darker, “I’m gonna go take a shower, okay? Why don’t you get ready for bed, huh?”.

Then he turns around on his heels and moves towards the suite’s bathroom, sliding the door shut. You furrow your brows further, not understanding his strange behavior, things had gone well with his family, right? They appeared to have approved of you and you absolutely adored both his sister and mom, so what seemed to be the issue?

You simply shrugged and put on one of Max’s shirts and a pair of shorts, not bothering with actual pajamas as you sat on the small couch on the corner of the room, deciding to read for a bit. Getting immersed in your book, you almost didn’t notice when Max came back to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and hair messy and wet from the shower, he sat behind you and you froze as his chest pressed against your back. “Jij spreekt Nederlands nu, schatje?”, (You speak Dutch now, love?) he mumbled in your ear, his arms circling around you and taking the book off your hands.

He trailed his fingers up and down your arms, making your breath hitch and you felt something hard against your back, Max started planting small kisses alongside your neck and shoulder. “See what you do to me, schat?”, he mumbled against your pressure point, “Baby, are you trying to drive crazy speaking my language to my mom and sister like that?”, his tongue trailed the path of your ear lobe down to the point where your neck and shoulder met and you let out a gasp, “I had to go to the bathroom fix myself so many times, baby. So many…”

Max started pressing wet kisses on your throat, tilting your head back so it was pressed against his shoulder, giving him access to it. Hickeys started forming on your skin as you panted against him, his mouth working on sucking and kissing you as precisely as he could, knowing your body like the back of his hand. “Ik maakt je gek?”, (I’m making you crazy?) you mumbled, your voice cracked with need as you felt heat pooling down your stomach, closing your thighs.

Max moaned against your skin and you clenched your thighs harder as you felt yourself growing wet for him, “Ah schatje, yeah. Just like that. Keeping talking Dutch to me”, he pulled your shirt up, nothing underneath as he leaned down to suck on your collarbone, “Can't touch you like I want this way”, he groaned under his breath, motioning to the fact you two were still on the couch, “How am I gonna show you just how much I value you speaking my language when I can’t even suck you like the good girl you are?”

He smirked and chuckled as he heard you gasp and whimper, covering your mouth with his palm and squeezing your cheeks. He took you by the waist and stood up, throwing you over his shoulder and moving towards the bed, “Gonna have to keep quiet, you know?”, he said in a dark whisper, hovering over you as he threw you in bed, “Do you want my mama en zus to stop thinking you’re an innocent little thing and know how much of a slut you are for me?”, he laughed as you whimpered, his hand going back to covering your mouth.

He stood back and let the towel fall of his waist, watching you gulp. No matter how many times you saw him bare or had sex with him, it always made you stop and drool over him. Max was simply lovely to say the least. “Max, please—,” you whimpered as he took his time taking your sleep shorts out. Max stopped, clicking his tongue, “Ah ah ah ah”, he smirked, “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me? You speak my language then,” he ordered, his fingers tracing the waistband of the last article of clothing you were wearing.

“Ah, fuck”, were the words that came out of your mouth as your breathing got more wrecked by the second, his tone ordering you to speak his language way hotter than you could’ve anticipated, “Alsjeblieft”, (Please) you whined, biting your lip, “Max, alsjeblieft”. The Dutchman smiled, leaning in to press a languid kiss to your lips, “Good girl”, he said before tugging your panties and shorts down in a swift movement.

You moaned as he pressed a finger against your folds, squirming as he groaned at your wetness, “Baby. You’re so wet for me”, he smiled, pressing kisses to your inner thighs as he knelt on the floor, pulling you by the waist so your legs were hanging over the edge of the bed, “Cover your mouth, pretty”, he mumbled against the skin of your inner thighs, “I’ll stop if I hear a sound, understand me?”

You nodded desperately, your head moving up and down frantically, “Yes, yes, I under—”, you cut yourself mid sentence as you’re met with Max’s disapproving gaze, him clicking his tongue and narrowing his eyes, you quickly go back to Dutch, “Ja, ik begrijp”, (Yes, I understand) you whimper, holding onto his hair as he presses a long kiss to your lower stomach. “See? Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”, he tilts his head in a smirk, enjoying the look on your face, “Quiet, schatje”.

You almost don’t have the time to cover your mouth with your palm when you feel Max’s tongue stroke slowly across your folds. You moan loud against your hand, throwing you head back against the pillow as he moves his tongue to fuck you, your hips matching his movements as he moves in and out of your cunt. You whimper loud, holding onto his hair with the other hand as he moves out to suck on your clit, smirking as he looks up at the mess you are at his touches.

He feels your legs clench around his shoulders as he circles your clit mercilessly, your sensitive bud aching as you moan and feel yourself getting close, “Max, Max—”, you call, and you’re not even sure why you’re calling. But it feels like so much. So good. “I’m- I’m… ik ben dichtbij”, (I’m close) you moan, your hand clenching around your own cheeks as you try to keep your noises down, the knowledge his sister and mother are just downstairs, probably still chatting on the kitchen making your breathing hitch even more.

Max smirked against your wet pussy, his tongue going back to lapping in and out of your cunt while his nose pressed and rubbed against your clit, you let out a loud moan, whimpering as you felt yourself getting impossibly close, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”. And then he stoped. “No, no, no. Max, max, please”, you whined out loud, holding his hair and grinding against nothing as his face was already far away.

“Oh pretty”, he smirked, moving off the ground and hovering over you, “What did I say would happen if I heard a sound, huh?”, Max runs a tongue all over his glistening lips and chin, looking down at you. You whimper at him, your eyes glossy as you’re kept on the edge, “Is this what you want, baby? For my mama and Vic to hear your desperate little noises for me?”, he clicks his tongue, “Can’t have that happen,”.

“Max, but—,” you try to argue, and he slaps the side of your thigh, almost at your ass cheek, the sound echoing through the room quieter than usually since Max was actually serious about being quiet. You whimper and gasp at it, the pain making you even needier for him as you cover your mouth to prevent a moan from escaping. “Jij spreekt Nederlands tegen mij, hoor je mij?,” (You speak Dutch to me, understand?) he groans against you, his hips grinding and driving you crazy as your eyes roll back to your head. “Ja, ja”, (yes, yes) you mumble without any strength, panting.

“Goed meisje,” (good girl) he says before thrusting into you all at once. You cover your mouth with both of your hands as a scream almost breaks out of your throat, “Oh fuck, you feel so good, schatje”, Max groans, pounding in and out of you with no hesitation, he holds your shoulder with his hand, trying to keep you from hitting your head on the headboard with the strength of his thrusts, “Speak. Say something in Dutch,” he groans, his hand flying to your neck as he moves almost all out and then back in.

Your eyes widen and you cry out his name, covering your mouth as you squeeze your cheeks to keep you from screaming. His cock stretching you out so much it feels like you’re being torn apart in two. “V-vertragen,” (slow down) you whimper shakily underneath him, but his pace doesn’t falter for a second. “Kleur?” (colour?) Max asks, his cock hitting every spot perfectly, including the sweet one that makes you see stars. “Groente,” (green) you let out in a breath.

Max stops and you cry out again. “Turn around,” he says, stroking his cock as he waits for you to get on hands and knees. Shakily, you do as he says, your face against the mattress and ass up and you whine desperately, “Would you look at that. A proper slut and asking me to slow down,” he groans before pounding in again, his pace even harder and faster than before as Max watches in awe his cock disappear inside of your cunt. Your face is on the mattress, drooling down the sheets as Max thrusts in and out, hitting you perfectly in every spot to have you crying in pleasure.

You bite down the white sheets, trying to muffle your sounds as you start panting a getting close again. Max leans down, his chests against your back as he pulls at your hair, making you gasp and he slaps your ass again, a cry leaving your throat, “Quiet,” he groans through his teeth before pulling you towards his chest so that you’re both kneeling on the bed, him pounding from behind as he wraps a hand on your mouth, squeezing and holding you still and quiet.

With Max’s palm against your lips as you pant and moan under his thrusts, he moves on to a deeper pace, his cock barely moving out of you before he’s in again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel his sweaty chest against your back, “Schatje, I’m gonna cum”, he groans quietly against your ear, trying to hold back his noises as his grip on your mouth grows stronger and bite down his palm, receiving a hiss in response, “You’re close too, aren’t you?”, he pants, his lips finding your neck and shoulder as his thrusts become erratic, “I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, and you’re gonna tell me just how much you want me to let you come in Dutch, understand?”, he asks through his teeth, “Nod, baby”.

You nod desperately before he takes out his hand off your lips, now covered in drool and red from your bites, “Ik ga klaarkomen, Max”, (I’m gonna cum, Max) you whimper, bitting down your lips to keep yourself from making louder noises, “Alsjeblieft. Laat me klaarkomen,” (Please. Please let me cum).

Max smirks at you, his movements growing sloppier by the second, “Oh, look at you, my baby”, he kisses your neck wet, “Biting your lips and trying to keep quiet for me, so good”, he praises, receiving a loud moan from you in response, which is quickly muffled by his hand, “Such a good girl for me, schatje. You can come”.

The sounds of your bodies moving are wet and obscene as Max’s words make your whole body clench and tighten, right on the edge. You pant against his hand, crying out as your body almost convulses in pleasure. Max follows behind, biting down your shoulder as he comes hard, his movements slowing down as you two ride the waves of your orgasm. Max’s hand falls off your mouth as you two pant against one another, both going limp and boneless against the bed, him under you as you come back down to Earth.

“Since when do you speak Dutch?”, Max pants, caressing your hair. You simply chuckle breathlessly, head resting on his chest, “I don’t know. Since before we met, why? You don’t like it?,” you ask in a soft giggle, propping yourself to your elbows to stare at him.

Max let’s out a laugh, caressing your cheek carefully before kissing you softly as his tongue tangles with yours in a deep, loving kiss, pulling back to press your foreheads together and nuzzle your nose on his, “Schatje, do I need to do all this again for you to see what it did to me?”.

[f0point5]

I think I have sent this same request some time ago but I still would like you to write something about Emilia and Max hanging out with Victoria’s children and maybe thinking about their own future kids. But really anything with Max and Emilia would be great!

I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one, but tumblr eats asks sometimes 🤷‍♀️ but it’s too cute so here you go! I am keeping these short but I hope you still enjoy it!

✨Set during summer break 2024✨

I’m having his baby (…) no, I’m not

You take a sip of your rosé as Victoria comes to stand beside you. You’re lurking in the doorway of the lounge, watching Max sitting on the couch with his baby niece in his arms. He’s bobbing her in a gentle motion, his hands looking huge around her tiny, swaddled body.

“God, I remember when we used to say our kids would get married,” Vic says beside you, and you laugh.

You did say that. As little kids you would wish to be sisters, and somehow the only way you could think to make that happen would be for your children to marry each other. Like in that Flintstones movie you used to love. You’d draw pictures of the two of you sitting on the porch of a large house, watching your children get married.

Now you wonder if your mums thought the same, during those summers in Italy, as they watched you all play. They swear now that they did, that the mother’s intuition told them you and Max were tied together by some invisible chord that chafed on both your wrists. “A mother always knows,” Sophie said to you when she saw you last, “you will know, too”.

“And now that would be illegal and dangerous for our grandkids,” you say, shaking your head. “Crazy,”

“I like it better this way,” Victoria says, putting her arm around your shoulder and squeezing you into a hug.

“Me, too,” you agree, your eyes fixed on Max and Hailey. He’s whispering to her in Dutch, her eyes fluttering closed every few seconds as she yawns in his face, which only makes him smile. He’s utterly mesmerised by her. And you’re mesmerised by him.

I swear I can actually feel my ovaries right now.

“He’s so good with kids,” Vic says. “Even with Jaye I remember he was so gentle,”

“Yeah,” you agree, only half hearing her as you take another sip.

“Gives you baby fever, huh?”

You choke on your wine. Was that Victoria or your subconscious talking?

Vic, are you in here? No, of course she’s not in here. She’s just being nosey. Act natural.

“Are you okay?” Max asks from the couch. You look over at him as you wipe your mouth, coughing once as you nod. Even as he looks at you in concern, he never stops the gentle bouncing motion of the baby in his arms.

You go to answer, but Vic beats you to it, blunt as ever. “I was just saying, you will be having one of your own soon, yeah?” She smiles, nodding at Hailey.

If Max is panicking as much as you, he doesn’t show it, just shrugging. “I mean, ye-“ You can feel your eyes widen, and he stops when he sees your face. He tries again. “May-“ he frowns at you, silently begging for help. “No?” You nod gently, and Max turns to Victoria. “No.”

She looks at you in mild disbelief. “No?”

“No,” you emphasise to both Verstappens.

You love them dearly but genetics are a crazy thing - they both share a chronic disregard for timing. They want it all, and they want it now, in any order, all order be damned.

“You’re not getting any younger,” Victoria says, nudging you.

“That is just rude,” you tell her, and she just smiles unapologetically.

“Oh, come on,” she implores, reaching up to wind her finger around a lock of your hair, “a little baby with Max’s eyes and your hair?”

“And both of our tempers,” you say with a chuckle. “Can you imagine that? Besides, we can barely make cereal, and you want us to raise a baby?”

You look at Max for support, but he’s no longer paying attention. He’s looking down at his niece like he’s holding water.

Maybe a baby can live on cereal, if her dad looks at her like that.

“I’m going to go put Hailey down for her nap,” Vic says, jerking you from your thoughts.

She goes over to take a sleepy Hailey from Max’s arms, and he looks loathe to let her go. She looks so much bigger when held by her mother, and her so much more fragile.

“When I get back, we can start on dinner. I’m going to make cereal,” Vic teases in a whisper, winking at you as she passes.

Max snorts with laughter, and you shoot Vic a glare as she starts to hum, shuffling her way out of the lounge towards the bedroom.

You join Max on the couch, falling onto it beside him with a heavy sigh.

“So glad I’m an only child,” you say, rolling your eyes. When Max doesn’t respond, you glance over at him to find him staring at his hands. You nudge him gently. “What?”

“You do,” he starts, leaning back as he turns to you. “Want kids, someday, don’t you?With me. I mean…you don’t think I’ll be, like…”

“No,” you answer quickly, when you understand what he’s getting at.

You silently curse yourself for that joke about tempers. For ever making him think that’s something you worry about. You know there’s a heaviness in Max, in both of you. You know that he is so much more than his father’s son. But you also know that the weight on his shoulders will keep him crooked until he can see that for himself. You hope knowing you see it will be enough for now.

“I want your baby, Max. Someday. There’s no one else I would ever do this with besides you and not just because I love you, but because I know you’ll be an amazing dad,” you tell him honestly, and even that small platitude seems to relax his shoulders. “But can we at least get to one year of baby making activities before we start painting a nursery?”

Max nods, letting out a husk of a laugh. “I’m shit at painting anyway,” he says, looking at you from under those eyelashes that you secretly envy.

Maybe she’ll inherit those, too.

“Free practice?” You offer with a smirk, holding your hand for his.

Max looks at your outstretched palm for a moment before taking your hand in his. “Free practice,” he agrees, using his grip on your hand to pull you forward so that your chest is pressed against his. “I’m looking forward to FP2 later,”

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera -> chapter 4

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

Yn stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection framed by the elegant ballet studio. Her leotard clung to her small frame, a reminder of the grueling practice she had just finished. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and took a deep breath. Ballet was her passion, but it wasn't always a serene escape.

The girls from her ballet class had been teasing her since she was three. Now, at eight years old, their barbs were sharper, more targeted. Yn couldn't escape them, not even when she stepped outside the studio. They were in her school, in her life, and it seemed like they existed just to torment her.

"Hey, Yn, did you trip over your own feet again?" One of the girls, Isabelle, sneered.

Yn rolled her eyes. "No, Isabelle, but I heard you tripped over your own ego."

The girls exchanged annoyed glances, clearly taken aback by Yn's quick wit. They weren't used to someone standing up to them.

"You think you're so cool just because your brother is famous," another girl, Margot, chimed in.

Yn clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It was true that Charles, her twin brother, had risen to fame as an F1 driver. But she refused to let that define her.

"You're right," Yn replied with a smirk. "I am cool. And not just because of Charles. I'm cool because I don't need to put others down to feel good about myself."

"Tu crois que tu es tellement intelligente, n'est-ce pas?" Sophie snapped back (You think you're so clever, don't you?)

Yn smirked, her confidence unwavering, "Eh bien, au moins plus intelligente que toi à ce stade" (Well, at least smarter than you at this point)

The girls huffed and turned away, clearly frustrated that their usual taunts were having no effect on Yn. This was the dynamic that had been playing out since they were all in diapers, and Yn wasn't about to back down now. As she turned back to the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her twin brother's mischievous grin.

Charles leaned against the doorframe, his eyes sparkling with admiration for his feisty sister. He had always been amazed by Yn's unbreakable spirit. Their bond was more than just that of siblings; it was a partnership built on shared experiences, challenges, and triumphs.

"Ballet class drama again, huh?" Charles asked, walking over to Yn.

Yn shrugged, "Same old, same old. They just can't stand the fact that I exist."

Charles chuckled, "Well, you do have a knack for stealing the spotlight."

Yn rolled her eyes, "Oh please, as if I asked for this."

He ruffled her hair affectionately, "You're handling it like a champ though."

"That's what Leclercs do," Yn replied with a smirk.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day at school, the torment continued. Yn's friends, were waiting for her, and Joris and Riccardo, flanked her as they walked down the hallway.

"Hey, guys," Yn replied, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips.

Joris playfully punched her shoulder. "Ready for the big history test?"

Yn rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course, I've been studying. Unlike some people I know."

Riccardo joined in the banter. "Well, some of us have other things on our minds, like winning the karting race this weekend."

Yn and Charles walked through the school corridors, their laughter mingling with the familiar buzz of students shuffling between classes. As they reached their lockers, Yn's heart skipped a beat. A knot formed in her stomach when she spotted the group of ballet girls huddled near her locker. Their perfectly coordinated outfits and disdainful expressions were a stark contrast to Yn's casual confidence.

"Tiens, tiens, if it isn't the Leclerc twins," the ringleader of the group sneered, her voice dripping with malice.

Yn's eyes rolled, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Oh, great, the mean girls club is in session early today. Should I fetch you all some croissants to complete the picture?"

The girls exchanged baffled glances, momentarily taken aback by Yn's boldness.

"Tu te prends pour qui?" one of them hissed. (Who do you think you are?)

Charles leaned against his locker, an amused grin playing on his lips. He knew better than to underestimate his sister's ability to put people in their place.

"Salut les filles," he chimed in, catching their attention. "Est-ce que vous avez besoin d'une leçon de bonne conduite?" (Hi, girls. Do you need a lesson in good behavior?)

Joris and Riccardo, Yn's two closest friends, joined them, flanking her protectively. Joris crossed his arms, a mockingly stern expression on his face. "Ouais, vous devriez apprendre à respecter les gens, non?" (Yeah, you should learn to respect people, shouldn't you?)

Yn laughed, her confidence growing. "I mean, they don't have the best track record for learning, do they?"

Riccardo joined in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Je suis d'accord. Ils sont plutôt doués pour être idiots." (I agree. They're quite talented at being idiots)

The ballet girls exchanged furious glances, their veneer of superiority cracking under the weight of Yn's retorts and the unified front of her friends.

"Enough of this nonsense" Isabelle snapped, her voice quivering. "Let's go, girls. These losers aren't worth our time"

As the ballet girls stormed away, Yn and her friends burst into laughter, their camaraderie a testament to their unbreakable bond.

"Thanks, guys," Yn said, her heart warmed by their unwavering support.

Joris clapped Yn on the back. "Anytime, Yn. You know we've got your back."

Riccardo nodded "Exactly. And besides, those girls wouldn't know class if it hit them in the face."

Charles grinned and clapped their hands "Well said, both of you"

Yn's gaze softened as she looked at her friends. She was beyond grateful for their presence in her life. Through thick and thin, they had stood by her side, and together, they formed a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, let's head to class," Charles said, breaking the momentary reverie.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that afternoon, Yn found herself once again in the ballet studio, surrounded by the polished mirrors and the haunting melody of the piano. As the ballet instructor guided them through the routine, the bullies' harsh whispers echoed in her mind.

"Yn, tu es tellement inutile ici. Personne ne veut de toi dans notre groupe" (Yn, you're so useless here. No one wants you in our group)

A flash of anger surged through Yn's veins, but she suppressed it, focusing on her movements. The dance was her sanctuary, her escape from the world's turmoil. She pirouetted with precision, her determination shining through each graceful step.

After the class, Yn walked out with her head held high, refusing to let the bullies see her falter. As she approached her friends waiting outside, Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a silent gesture of support.

"Comment ça s'est passé?" he asked, concern etched across his features. ("How did it go?")

Yn smiled, leaning into her brother's embrace. "Comme d'habitude. Je danse pour moi, pas pour elles" (As usual. I dance for myself, not for them)

The ballet girls might try to undermine her, but they were no match for her wit and her unshakable friends. After all, she was Yn Leclerc—the sassy bad bitch who never backed down.

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader@celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

[insomniac4000]

43 - ATV

How’d you remember- ArthurTV

Arthur leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee as he scrolled through old photos from school. It was always a nostalgic trip back to the days when life felt simpler, his world revolving around football, schoolwork, and friends. As he scrolled, he spotted a familiar face: Sophie. Her smile leaped off the screen, sparking memories of shared laughs and whispered jokes during class. They had lost touch after school, as she stayed in Jersey, where they’d both grown up. But as fate would have it, she’d recently reached out on Instagram, mentioning that she’d just moved to London.

They’d arranged to meet that weekend. Now, sitting in a cozy café in the heart of Soho, Arthur watched Sophie walk in, her familiar smile brightening the room. Time had only added to her charm, and he felt a pang of nerves, unsure why he was so excited to see her again.

“Arthur!” she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “I can’t believe it’s been this long.”

“Tell me about it!” he replied, trying to act casual. “Feels like just yesterday we were stuck in detention for that prank on Mr. Reynolds.”

Sophie laughed. “You were the mastermind, as I recall.”

They spent hours reminiscing, laughing over shared memories and stories they’d nearly forgotten. It felt easy, natural. They sat and talked for so long the time moved from afternoon coffee to dinner time and they agreed to find something to eat. Walking through the crowded London streets, Arthur felt a pull he hadn’t expected. Sophie wasn’t just a memory from his past; she was here, real, and captivating.

They grabbed a spot at a tiny Italian place Arthur knew, tucked away from the bustle. As they dug into plates of pasta, Sophie paused, a curious expression on her face.

“So, do you remember that time we went to that terrible school dance?"

Arthur laughed. “The big green one with the big sequins? I remember it well. You thought you were a movie star.”

Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened. “How’d you remember?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Arthur shrugged, feeling his cheeks warm. “I don’t know. Guess some things stick with you. I remember a lot about you."

"Does that mean you think about me a lot then?" She smiled, a quiet, knowing smile that sent his heart racing. They talked about her move, her job at a small publishing house, her hopes of exploring the city now that she was finally free from the quiet comfort of Jersey. Arthur found himself genuinely interested in every word she said, feeling more and more like he was seeing her in a way he hadn’t back in school.

Over the next few weeks, they started spending more time together. Late-night texts turned into impromptu dinner plans, random weekend strolls, and long conversations that spilled into the early hours. It was becoming more than just a rekindled friendship.

One evening, they were on the South Bank, the lights of the London Eye reflecting off the Thames. They’d been talking about anything and everything, the conversation naturally flowing as it always did. Sophie nudged him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Remember that time I dared you to sing during assembly?”

Arthur groaned, laughing. “Please don’t remind me. I was terrible.”

“You weren’t that bad!” she teased. “But you were so embarrassed after. I felt so guilty.”

Arthur grinned, nudging her back. “But you liked the attention, didn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. “Maybe a little.”

As they stood there, wrapped in the sounds and lights of the city, Arthur felt a surge of bravery. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. She looked at him, surprised but not pulling away. And in that moment, the city buzzing around them, Arthur knew this wasn’t just a memory from his past coming back to life it was the start of something new.

[ladylooch]

Apologies and Considerations [Mack X David]

Word count: 2.8k

Before you enter, catch up on these blurbs: 1, 2, 3, 4

This happens the same night Mack apologizes to David at his game with a sign, while wearing his jersey and a bracelet with his name and number on it.

By the end of the game, glitter is all over Mack’s black jeans from David’s sign. It hangs in her left hand as she waits with Stella, Sophie and Lucie after the game. While running away has its appeal, Mack knows it isn’t right. She should talk to him. She wants to. Mack reaches out to Stella’s head resting on Lucie’s shoulder. She brushes back her wild, brown curls, appreciating how sweet Stella looks asleep. She was a wild animal during the game, but you wouldn’t know it now.

“Mackncheese, 14 looks as good on you as I thought it would.” David chirps from her left as he walks closer, glugging on some water. He is wearing a blue plaid suit with a white shirt and black, dress sneakers. His black hair is still slightly wet and strands fall onto his forehead from where he had pushed them back with his hand. Mack watches his approach, silent and nervous. He knows she is anxious, Mack can see it in the way he softens, becoming extremely approachable and gentle. Mack opens up the sign to him, biting her lip. “I saw that.” He smiles at her, then licks his lips. “But I, a bumfuck Iowa boy, only accept apologies over New York Style pizza.” 

“Oh.” Mack laughs, feeling herself blush. “Um… no pineapple right?”

“God, no.” He shakes his head at her. “Pepperoni?” He wonders.

“That I can do.”

“You free right now?” He asks, taking the sign from her. “I am gonna have to take this home and inspect your work though. You understand, right?” Mack is so relieved at how this is going. She relaxes completely, chuckling genuinely in agreement.

“I messed up the M. Don’t judge too hard.” 

“Maybe Stella did the M?”

“Stella did not help, so I don’t have her to blame that on. But Sophie did.” Mack shrugs, gesturing to her younger sister who is texting off to the side of the group.

“Sophie? Never heard of her.” David can’t even hold back his grin. 

“Stop.” Mack blushes.

“Come on. Let’s go.” He reaches for her wrist, tugging her closer to him. 

“Wait where?” Mack sputters.

“To Pizza. I’m starving and you look like you need a drink, at minimum. So let’s go.” Mack pauses, still not moving with him. “Unless you have other plans at 10:30pm?” He’s got her there. Her only plans were a detox face mask and a Netflix documentary about the ocean. “It’s either today or I pick you up at your place tomorrow at 7. We can’t keep going on estranged like this, Mackncheese. It’s too hard on poor Stella over there.” He points to the sleeping little girl. Mack looks over her shoulder at her sisters and her sleeping niece. Lucie gives her a pointed look like “finish fixing this”. 

“Now is.. Fine.” She shakes her head awkwardly. David laces their fingers together, then waves at the remaining Hischier girls. 

“Have a good night, ladies.”

“Bye Davey.” Lucie smirks. 

Mack follows behind David. Several staff members say goodbye to him as they head out, offering up encouragement from his game tonight. David takes it all in stride, not bothering to slow down for anybody except for the valet who holds his car keys in his hand. David hands over a few bills and pats the man on the back. 

“Shined er up for me eh?” David jokes as he opens up the passenger side door of a Black Land Rover. 

“The Davey special!” The valet responds. David laughs in response, then focuses his eyes back on Mack as she slides in.

“You good?” He double checks with her. She tucks her hair behind her ear apprehensively.

“Yeah.” The door shuts and Mack is engulfed in a moment of silence. She inhales the crisp, piney scent of his air freshener. His car is immaculately clean, not what she was expecting from him at all. She imagined muddy floors and empty water bottles and maybe crumbs everywhere or something equally obnoxious. None of that exists.

David slides into the driver’s side door, then immediately goes to adjust the heat. 

“Are you cold at all?”

“I’m comfortable.” She responds, carefully crossing her legs. David puts the car in drive and begins to pull forward. He stops so the door can be raised for him to leave.

“When we go out, there are going to be fans on your side.” David tells her. “The tint will cover most of your face, but you may want to put your hand up if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh.” Mack says, looking over at the dark tint of the passenger side window. “Okay.” He waits until she puts her hand up to block a majority of her face, then slides out of the rolled up door. He pushes the car fast through the group of fans lining the fencing, then peels out onto the street. 

“You should be good now.” He murmurs, adjusting the vents of air off him. That hand then rests on his thick thigh closest to Mack. Trying to be inconspicuous, she studies him whenever the car is moving. He is so relaxed as he winds his way through the traffic. He is constantly moving between the lanes, but not in a rushed way, in a confident driving way. It's... sexy, watching him be in such control while chaos flows around them.

“Do you have a place in mind?” Mack asks.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I go here a lot after games.” He flicks his blinker on to turn right. “They, uh,” He pauses, looking over his shoulder to change lanes again. “Are a small shop open late. But their pizza is amazing, best sauce I’ve had in New York. And their beer is cold.” 

“What more could you want?” Mack laughs at his simple description.

But when she walks inside with him a few minutes later, she gets it. White and red checkered tablecloths are on the square tables. Each one has parmesan and red pepper along with rolled up silverware sets in cups. It is simple in the midst of a fancy, expensive town, like the man who Brough her here tonight. Mack looks over at David and smiles in appreciation. David grabs them a corner booth, opening his arm up for Mack to slide in first. He unbuttons his suit jacket, then sits on the other side.

“I don’t usually do this, but can I order for us?” He asks after they give their drink orders to the waitress. A Coors Light for him and a Watermelon High Noon for her. Mack, who hates when men order for her, considers. David awaits her answer in the same relaxed fashion he always does. Mack trusts him and nods. “Thank you. Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.” She says.

“I feel like if you had an allergy you would just squint at it and it would scurry it’s way out of your body. I’m sure illnesses do that too.” Mack rolls her eyes. 

“I’m mortal, same as you.” A low chuckle shakes David’s shoulders.

“Honey, not much about me and you is the same. I think that’s the problem here.”

Mack’s response is cut off by the waitress returning. David puts their order in- a pepperoni pizza with fresh basil. Mack was expecting something very extravagant with the way he wanted her to trust him. Her furrowed eyebrows indicate as much to David. He hold his glass up to her can in a cheers, after they drink, he explains.

“Life is about the simple things, Mack. They have great sauce, great crust, and a hell of a pepperoni. You don’t need anything else but those ingredients. It’s a flavor bomb in your mouth.” 

“That what you learned in bumfuck Iowa?” Mack asks. David chuckles. 

“Some of it. But a lot of that I learned moving here. A city of excess.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I don’t remember a ton of growing up in Jersey, but I certainly remember the pace was different in Switzerland.”

“Are you like Lucie? Do you identify yourself as American?” 

“No. I’m Swiss first. Lucie grew up a lot more here than I did. We had a three year age difference, but those three years were big differences development wise, especially when you move internationally.” David nods. 

“I can see that.” 

“Have you been?” Mack wonders, taking another sip of her drink.

“To Switzerland? No. Connor says I need to go though.”

“Yeah.” Mack murmurs. 

“So why are you here then?”

“A job. My dream one. I work for Travel + Leisure. But I don't consider this home. New York is just a place to live in between stories for me. I needed a home base and it made sense for it to be here with my dual citizenship. I went to college in Switzerland, but it’s hard to grow into who you want to be when you’re in the same hometown you grew up in.” David looks away but nods.

“Yeah, the same story following you around everywhere you go. All the same characters too."

“Mhm.” Mack nods. David brings his gaze back to her, trailing his green eyes up where her fingers rest on her drink, over her throat and lips before ending at her brown eyes. 

“I’m just a small town farm boy, Mack. I’m not some big city perv who wants to coerce your sister into some sinister place. There are bad people in this city, but I’m not one of them.”

“I know. I overreacted and said things I shouldn’t have. I’m very embarrassed by my behavior. I am sorry for what happened. I was out of line.” David continues to study her while his thumb brushes against the condensation on his glass.

“You’ve been doing this a lot.” He points out. “Jumping down my throat the second you can like my sole job on this planet is to annoy you.”

“Isn’t it?” She asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“No, only part of it.”

“Mmm, I see.” She smiles. He licks his lips, dropping his gaze to the table. A slow, tempest of a smile stretches across his lips.

“I think you and I could be really good together.” Mack's stomach bottoms out to the floor. Her heart starts to pound when his green eyes, full of lust, meet hers again. Mack’s lips part. A tingling awareness begins to consume her skin. “But if you’re not interested in that, let me know and we can stop this whole game.” 

“This has been a game?”

“Of course it has, Mack.” She notes the lack of a nickname for her. He is serious. “Don’t act like you haven’t been playing too.” 

“Not everything is a game, 14.”

“No, but with me and you it has been.” Mack doesn’t have a response for that. Is he wrong? She isn’t sure. She knows what it feels like from her perspective only and yeah, I guess some of it resembles a game- a dance, a twisting and turning race track that has a finish line she can’t see or understand. 

“I don’t need an answer from you right now. I know that isn’t your style. You want to go home and evaluate all the different angles and reasons for why we shouldn't, and that's fine. I accept that. But you should know that when I go all in, I never look back.” A shiver of pleasure bolts down Mack’s spine. “I’d take good care of you. Not because you need it, because lord knows you have everything handled for yourself, but because you deserve somewhere safe to fall to when you don’t wanna be tough anymore. I’ll be that place for you.” 

The waitress, with no understanding of the conversation, comes to set the pizza down between them. Mack is speechless, unable to even answer if she needs anything else to eat. David answers for them both. Mack’s eyes take in the deliciousness in front of her, then raises her eyes to David’s, something that is looking equally delicious. 

“So tell me about growing up in Switzerland. Did you go hiking all the time and eat fondue?” David changes the subject completely. Mack stares back at him, then takes the turn with him.

“Yes, every day and night. That is all we did. Hike and fondue.”

- - - 

In the car ride on the way back to her building, Mack is quiet, contemplating the earlier conversation with David. She hasn’t been able to think of much else since then. Mack isn’t sure what she wants and is extremely confused why she is even considering his proposal. She can’t stand him. At least she thought she couldn't? But then they talked tonight, really talked and connected. Where once there were completely different planets, now common ground exists. 

“Nice place.” He comments as the Land Rover pulls up outside her building. He puts the car in park.

“Yeah this is what daddy’s money gets you.” She shrugs as she takes off her seatbelt.

“I’m sure you do well for yourself. Your articles are always front and center.” Mack pauses with her hand on the door handle. 

“What?”

“Your articles. Isn’t being in the center good for a contributor?”

“Yeah, but how do you…”

“I read your stuff, Mack. Have read everything since before and after we met. I like your style. Your writing makes me believe I’ve been to where you have. That type of voice is special.” 

“Thank you.” Mack says genuinely. “I work really hard.”

“It shows.” He nods. “Can I walk you to the door?”

“I’d like that.” She says.

“Let me grab your door. My dad would be upset if I let you do it yourself.”

Mack sits inside, waiting for him to come around and grab her door. He offers her his hand. She gently places hers in his awaiting palm. His fingers grip hers firmly. He keeps them together even as he shuts the door after she exits. Their fingers lace through their spaces. Mack is astonished again at how comfortable this feels.

She looks down, noting the way their fingers fold together like familiar lovers. Her gaze works its way up his arm to his face where he is looking at her, watching, trying to read her like always. Mack looks forward again, feeling too vulnerable to give anything away. So much turmoil swirls beneath her skin. What has happened tonight? Nothing she expected. 

They climb the steps together, then Mack separates their hands. 

“I enjoyed our first date.” He tells her, hands stuffed in his pockets outside the door to her apartment building.

“This was not a date.”

‘It was a date. I drove. I ordered the food. I paid. I drove you home.”

“No.” Mack shakes her head. “We didn’t…” She trails off, eyes wide when she realizes where she was going with that.

“Oh? You are a kiss on the first date kind of girl?.” His big hands weave around her body over her jacket. He presses her into his body until every part of them touch. “We can fix that.” He whispers, then leans down to kiss her.

Mack feels the wind knock out of her chest when their lips touch. Her senses go into overdrive, then her body melts completely into him. Her hands grip his suit jacket, forearms separating her chest from his. His tongue glides along her bottom lip, then gently asks for entrance into her mouth. Mack opens for him and he begins to gorge on her, taking anything and everything she is willing to provide him.  Mack has never been kissed like this. It’s never been all consuming, losing the New York City street, or the feeling of snowflakes collecting in her hair, but with David Carlson it is. Nothing else exists but these two people, kissing on a city street. 

“Now it was a date.” David finishes when they pull apart for air. Mack is disoriented when their gazes meet. Her lips are puffy and swollen, upper lip irritated from his mustache. She has trouble focusing on anything but his mouth. David takes his opportunity and kisses her again. This time, his hands thread through her hair, tilting her face to get the angle he wants to plunge his tongue into her mouth. Their lips slurp and slide against each other. Someone moans and Mack can’t quite believe it, but she’s pretty sure it was her.

"I want my answer soon.” He murmurs as they pull away. His thumb drags her bottom lip down, exposing her teeth before letting it slide back into place. Mack’s heavy breathing swirls between their faces.

“What answer?” She asks him. 

“On if you wanna go in on this.”

“I don’t.”

“Bullshit. Think about it. I'll check in next week.” His thumb and pointer finger work her chin up. Then he kisses her softly, before stepping away completely. Mack shivers, then brings her fingers up to touch her lips. This man has turned everything about her upside down. Since when does she just fall into a man and slurp up every bit of their kiss? “Sweet dreams, Mack.” 

Mack stands there, outside of the door to her apartment building, for several long moments, blinking and attempting to ground herself back in the present. David’s Land Rover stays parked in its spot, blinker on, but not moving from the curb. Eventually, David rolls down the window and calls out to her.

“Mack, honey, can you go inside? So I can leave?” Mack nods compliently, then shuffles inside, thanking her door man on her way in. 

“Whew. He is something, Ms. Hischier. The way he kissed you was a scene right out of a movie. Your daddy would like him.” 

“This stays between you and me, Ron.” Mack practically begs her old, familiar door man.

“Yes ma’am. Your secret is safe with me.”

Great, now he’s a secret. Mack looks over her shoulder, watching David’s SUV merge into traffic. 

He said he wants to be her safe place, but everything about this feels unsafe to her.

[apinchofm]

first meeting/modern au - edwina sharma x prince friedrich

for @tarrynmj

"This is an expensive dress."

"As is this watch, perhaps that's why we are stuck like this."

Edwina cannot help but giggle at the situation. Leaving her hotel room, carrying multiple bags herself, plus her own clutch, was not the best idea. The dress, a deep pink with wide sheer sleeves was beautiful when she bought it.

She had not expected to bump into a stranger and get stuck to him. Sophie had said the dress would help her pull - Edwina did not think that she meant this!

The stranger was more amused than anything.

"Let's see," He hums gently as he works to unhook the material from his timepeice. A small thread had hooked itself onto the small movement.

"It is a beautiful watch." Edwina compliments weakly.

"It was my father's." He tells her.

He managed to unhook them, "Well, he was rather a, ah, lothario?" He says, "I do hope this was not one of his tricks."

"Um, I'm Edwina." She introduced.

"Freddie." He shook her hand and then looked at the time, "Ah, good, not late at all."

She gently grabbed his wrist to see that it was nearly six and cursed quietly whilst Freddie raised an eyebrow amused.

"Late for a meeting? Let me guess, an accountant?" Freddie asked.

"Oh, but this is all the rage at Barclays!" Edwina jokes, "No, it's my sister's bachelorette party." She began to pick up the glittery party bags.

"Here let me help. It is the least I can do." He takes four of the six bags and they walk to the elevator together as Edwina tries to avoid direct eye contact.

"These are beautiful party favors," Freddie says.

"Oh, I put them together - a little something for my sister and the group," Edwina explained.

"Slippers?" He gestures to the fluffy items wrapped in plastic.

"You do not know the pain of wearing heels for hours on a night out, do you?"

He clicked his tongue, "Second year of undergrad refreshers week - I won a bet." He says. She giggles. Stand up! Edwina scolded herself.

"You must be really close to be doing all this?" Freddie asked.

Edwina shrugs, "It's nothing. Kate, she would do the same. She's always taken care of me and I just want all of this to go well. For her to have so much fun before going on to have more fun. And I love planning things. And gift bags. This was perfect for me!"

Freddie smiled gently at her enthusiasm as she looked away, her face warm with embarrassment.

"I am the eldest myself." He tells her, "My sister is still in school - uh, year 12? She wants to be a vet and wants me to get married so she can wear a ball gown."

"Oh good for her. You are a cruel brother, depriving her of the occasion!" Edwina playfully gasped.

He grinned, "I am just awful. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Will your sister be struggling with gift bags with slippers and candy anytime soon?"

"I'm not the greatest at dating." Edwina said sheepishly, "I mean, I have been on dates but..." She shuts her eyes in embarrassment as she rambles and stutters.

But Freddie wasn't teasing or judgmental, smirking and said, "You are single. Good. I still have a chance."

They reached the ground floor and he dutifully followed her to the hotel bar and restaurant to the booked table.

Kate was at the bar, dressed in a mini silver dress and excited to see her sister escorted by a very handsome man.

Kate mouthed 'who's the hot guy?' from behind and Edwina's eyes widened in embarrassment.

"Thanks." She said shyly to Freddie who grinned.

"Have a fun night," He said with a wink and then left, but not before looking back at the funny woman in pink.

Kate smirked, then deepened her voice, "Have a fun night," She said mockingly, "I think he wanted to have a good night with you."

"Shut up. He was just a nice man." Edwina scolded and decided to distract her sister by waving her goody bag in front of her face which only worked momentarily.

"You are beautiful, bon. Thank you for all of this."

"Well, how else shall I celebrate your first marriage?" Edwina teased, making her laugh.

"Anyway, who was the cute man?"

Edwina shrugged, "I don't know. Our rooms are next to each other."

"Ooh, maybe it's fate!" Kate teased.

Edwina shook her head but there was a part of her that hoped so. She didn't realize that Freddie felt the same way.

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @nowjumpinthewater @ilikebookssomuch @insert-clever-username-1133

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Seventy-five

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

Sophie finished arranging the books inside of a doll shopping cart. It was anything but a backpack day at school for homecoming week.

At school, she was rolling it into class. She sighed when she saw what Keefe's git up was.

"May I ask what poor grandma did you take that from?"

Keefe moved the electric wheelchair so she could get by. "Oh, Ro had this in her garage for some reason."

Sophie just had to pause and stare at him. "I... just why?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"You know what... never mind." She shook her head but went and kissed the top of his hair anyway. "How are you?"

He reached up to press a kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, "Good. You?"

"I'm alright. What's the plan for friday?"

"Well, would you like to go to the game?"

"That's my plan." She slid into the seat beside him. "Sense Biana is on the homecoming court. I was just wondering if you were going to go."

"If you're going, I'm going to follow you," he informed.

Sophie had to laugh. "Ok, so, meet up at the game or my house?"

"At the game, if that works for you."

"Of course."

Friday night came. Sophie was dotting red and gold on her face for school spirit. She headed out to the car once she was done.

The bleachers were packed. She wasn't sure if Keefe was even there yet. She was about to call and ask when she saw him waiting near the concession stand.

She snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso in a hug. He leaned forward until her feet were dangling off the ground. She was squealing, and he was laughing. She got her legs situated to where she was being carried piggyback style. He hiked her up higher on his back.

Sophie giggled. "Well, hello to you, too." She buried her face in his neck.

"Hey, Foster. Did you really think you could sneak up on me like that?"

She shrugged. "I tried."

He set her down and turned to face her. He had painted designs on his face, too.

They found a place to sit in the stands together with their other friends. Well, minus Biana. She was off getting ready for half time when she had to go onto the field.

It had started sprinkling. Sophie hadn't thought to bring something. Thankfully, Keefe, being the sweetheart he was, let her huddle underneath his jacket with him. She had inserted herself under his arm. He wrapped his arms with the jacket around her, keeping her dry and warm.

Half time was approaching. When it arrived, Sophie watched as Biana and the others on homecoming court lined up. After all of the people were announced, the homecoming queen was announced.

Biana Vacker.

Once getting off the field, Sophie ran towards her.

"Ahhh," Sophie squealed. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you!" She hugged her.

Dex came up and pecked Biana on the lips. "You did amazing! I'm so happy for you."

Biana leaned into his arms, closing her eyes and. "Thank you, Dexy."

[mikaelsrose]

The Lover's Caress

Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Reyna) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow 2, chapter 2 Word count: 1940 Rating: M Warnings: emotional hurt, marked sexual content within the fic Category: angst A/n: this is for the girlies who needed to see Tyril bawl his eyes out at the sight of MC Tag list: @lxdy-starfury @starlight-starfury @watatsumi-island @sophie-summer @brycesgirl @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub

The clock tower showed just four minutes after four in the morning as Tyril and Reyna reached her chamber and unwillingly unlaced their hands.

"I hope you will stay? I can't open a portal for you to go back to Undermount," Reyna started as her fingers nimbly worked with the matches to light the candles on the night stands. Despite the sun already rising, dark rain clouds obstructed the light, plunging the city in gloomy darkness. "Not that I'd want to, anyway."

"I intend to watch over you constantly lest you were to disappear again."

“Nonsense, you need to rest. When was the last time you got a proper night’s rest?”

Tyril shrugged his shoulders indiscernibly. Just as Reyna was about to scold him for not taking care of himself, the match burned her fingers.

“Blast!”

"Allow me," he uttered lowly before catching her wrist and bringing the burned fingers to his lips. Having whispered a short spell, Tyril touched the sore area and a wave of soothing coolness hugged the wound. Under his scrutinizing gaze, Reyna was suddenly overcome with shyness and lowered her gaze. 

"I knew having a skilled mage by my side would come in handy," she joked. “Thank you. We should probably get some rest. May I?” 

Reyna’s fingers quickly undid the intricate fastening of Tyril’s clothes and as he stood in front of her in nothing but his undergarments, her brows knitted.

“That’s new,” she noticed, touching a purplish scar on the plane of his chest. 

“A close encounter with a succubus.”

Reyna quirked an eyebrow. “Succubus? The seductive she-devil succubus?”

“She was said to be in possession of a long-lost spell book, I had hoped that perhaps she would help me open a portal.”

“And how exactly did you play to convince her?”

“With threats.”

"That's why you ended up with a wound on your chest? What did she strike you with, a hacksaw?" 

Tyril sighed quietly upon realizing that it was not jealousy speaking through his beloved but worry. "I underestimated the risk."

"Just like you did with the fluria? And this?” she pointed to a cut just above his hip. “It's also fresh."

"A basilisk. They're rumoured to have the ability to cross realms."

"And you attacked it alone," he nodded. "You were trying to get hurt, weren't you?"

While Tyril desperately searched for the right words, Reyna took a moment to study his face in the warm candlelight. There were visible dark spots under his eyes, his cheekbones and jawline seemed a bit sharper, indicating a weight loss, and as her eyes slid lower, she also noticed how much more defined his muscles had become. He must have been hunting for a while, many more creatures than he would ever admit to her.

"I was trying to be punished."

“Tyril—”

“Reyna, you don’t understand. You were gone for a year. They took you from right under my nose, and I did nothing to stop them. You were gone for a year and I never even got a single promising lead. I am sorry I couldn't do more to help you," he whispered, dropping his gaze to her cheek, which he stroked with a thumb. "Please forgive me—"

"You need to forgive yourself, Tyril," she interrupted, her hand cupping his cheek. "It was you who gave me the strength to fight, the thought of never seeing your face again helped me get off my knees and run even though my whole body burned with pain. So thank you."

His eyes glistened and she continued.

"I think I heard you, when I was still weak and befuddled."

Tyril felt his heart skip a beat. "Perhaps Gods heard my prayers after all."

"You prayed for me?"

"Of course," he assured immediately, and a tear rolled down his cheek. "I was utterly desperate, submerged in books I held onto the faintest hope, I begged scholars and mages for help, but nobody even dared to hope. It was Adrina who suggested I should reconnect with the Gods. On my knees, I prayed for forgiveness and pleaded for help for months."

Reyna bit her lip, emotions too overwhelming to allow even the quietest words to leave her mouth without breaking into a million pieces. However, seeing how Tyril allowed his grief and loneliness to leave his body in the waves of tears, her own dam broke and soon only the quiet sniffling of two entwined lovers could be heard. 

"Gods, I have missed you so much," the elf mumbled into her hair before pressing his lips to her temple, long and hard, and shut his eyes tightly, afraid she'd disappear if he opened them, just as had happened several times. "The thought of never seeing you again, never holding your hand, was driving me mad. I have grieved while still hoping, still searching for a way to bring you back, but I hit a damn wall every time. I— I have been truly awful to my family this year, Reyna, because all that mattered was getting to you as fast as possible—" 

Tyril's voice suddenly broke and Reyna, as if finally understanding the full scope of the effects her absence had on her partner, felt her heart break. Her hand soothingly caressed the back of his head, while her tears pooled in the crook of his neck. 

"I was afraid I'd lost you to the Shadows as well," he whispered. "And I was ready to lose myself just to get you back."

“If it’s any consolation, it only felt like a couple of days for me,” Reyna uttered quietly once they both calmed down. Tyril’s embrace loosened slightly, and he pulled back just enough to see her face. 

“That’s good. I’d hate for you to feel so lonely and helpless in the Shadow Realm for a year.”

The couple timidly smiled at each other, and once Reyna’s fingers wiped the remaining evidence of anguish off his face, Tyril suggested lying down.

As if nothing ever happened, Tyril took his place on the right side of the mattress while Reyna straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. Just like they did the night before everything changed.

In complete silence only interrupted by regular pattering of the rain against the window, they listened to each other's breaths, caressing each other’s skin and kissing every now and again. Reyna smiled as his thumb began drawing small circles on her bare thigh. She took in the sight in front of her, still afraid that if she blinked, he'd disappear. The mere suggestion of waking up in Valax’s laboratory again sent an uncomfortable wave of shivers down her back.

"You look so beautiful like this," she whispered, her hands journeying across his chiselled stomach and chest, marvelling at the smoothness of his pale skin. Under her fingers, she felt his pounding heart and quickened breath, and she only smiled wider. In the early morning sun, Tyril's noble features softened, making him look like the young, exhausted man he was.

"I suppose happiness looks good on everybody."

"Nobody wears it like you do, Lord Starfury," she whispered against his lips before capturing them in a soft kiss, and within seconds she welcomed his tongue on her lower lip. 

Deftly sliding the strap of her bra off her shoulder, Tyril kissed her collarbone, first on the right side, then repeated the action on the left, soon unclasping the garment and letting it fall to the floor. 

“At long last,” he hummed in between the sloppy kisses. Reyna smiled blissfully.

Before long, the last pieces of clothing fell to the ground and Reyna, still straddling half-sitting Tyril slowly lowered herself onto him with a quiet moan.

"I have yearned to hear you make that sound again," he gasped, one of his hands tightening on Reyna's hip while the other caressed her back, pulling her closer. 

Contrary to her mind, her body felt their prolonged separation. Each touch would send a wave of shivers through her body, each bounce of her thighs pulling out soft moans from her throat. Soon they found their rhythm and the room reverberated with a blend of the couple's whimpers and ragged breaths.

As the urge to be in control for the first time in months grew, Tyril switched their position and rolled on top of Reyna, who, afraid to let him go, wrapped her legs around his waist. His lips then focused on Reyna's neck, leaving love bite after love bite in their wake, earning him a pull at his hair and increasingly louder moans.

"Please, don't ever leave me again," he huffed, pleadingly. Feeling her climax approaching, he kissed her again, sucking on her lower lip long enough to leave a tiny red bruise as his hand blindly searched for hers to lock their fingers together.  

Groaning, Reyna clenched her fingers around Tyril’s, leaving half moon marks over his knuckles. She looked at him from under her lashes—the image of her partner, flushed, sweaty, whimpering proved to be the final straw that sent her over the edge. Following suit, the elf hid his face in the crook of Reyna’s neck, his hips still lazily moving.

“I’ll always fight my way back to you, Tyril.”

The wind outside picked up, howling mournfully through the city lanes and alleyways. Blissfully spent, the couple cuddled under the duvet.

“I’ve heard you and Kade got to know each other better in my absence,” Reyna mumbled sleepily, resting her head on Tyril’s shoulder. The elf hummed. “I’m glad.”

“Bonding with your brother was the only good thing to happen this past year.”

“Has he told you all the embarrassing stories?”

Tyril smirked at the memory. “A few.”

"Rest assured that I will have my revenge."

"You already know my most humiliating story, bringing shame upon my House is impossible to top."

"Personally, I believe stepping on your date's dress and causing her to fall into mud at her own Ancestral Masquerade is much more embarrassing," she chuckled while Tyril's eyes widened in shock. 

"How do you know about it?"

"Your sister is an excellent conversationalist, did you know that?" 

Tyril shook his head disapprovingly. “Tarnishing the reputation of House Starfury like that.”

“I like your new hairstyle, it really shows off your pretty face,” she complimented and raised her head to check whether she’d get the reaction she hoped for from him. Shortly, a dark purple blush flowered on his cheeks.

“I— Ahem, I’m glad it’s to your liking,” he stuttered. 

“I’m also impressed by your musculature, you really put in some work when I was away,” she teased, making Tyril chuckle, still visibly embarrassed. “Oh, how I missed those dimples!”

“Please stop,” the elf pleaded, snaking an arm around Reyna’s bare stomach as she leant over and kissed his dimples, then the tip of his nose, chin, and finally his lips. Their kiss was interrupted by a loud thunder that made Reyna jump away, scared. She nervously looked around the room, expecting the worst, but everything was exactly the same. 

She felt Tyril’s palm cupping her cheek, and she unwillingly stopped scanning the room to look at his face. 

“You’re safe, Reyna. It’s alright, you’re safe. I’m with you.”

She nodded absent-mindedly. It took her a moment to shake off the images of Ashen soldiers, and she blinked repeatedly when the initial panic subsided. Tyril was looking at her worriedly, gently stroking her cheek, and Reyna focused on the way the candlelight glistened in his baby blue eyes.

“You’re safe.”

“I know. You’re with me.”

Tyril nodded and pressed his lips to her temple. “I’m with you.” 

[writingplotbunnies]

Best Served Cold (Part 8/?)

Pairing: Jax Teller x OFC

Summary: Sophie gets her delivery, but someone follows her to the pickup.

Word Count: ~2900

Warnings: angst, illegal activity, possessive behavior, sexual content, canon typical violence

The California midday sun beamed down on the desolate spot of land in the middle of nowhere. Gleaming in the sunlight, it sat on a folded table. Two men stood behind it, arms crossed against their chest, dark shades covering their eyes. Sophie licked her lips, fingers twitching at her sides. An old Gunny she’d worked with once told her she’d never forget the feel of one in her hands, that she’d find herself reaching for one when her hands had been empty for too long. She’d been young then - green. Foolishly thought the actions she’d be forced to take wouldn’t change her, that she’d come out the other side the same person she’d been going into it all. Even now, she didn’t know if she should hate the Corps for the parts of her they stripped away, if she should demand a return - offer the parts they’d replaced her with for the parts they’d taken. Most days she figured it didn’t matter too much in the end. Even if she could get it back, her old skin wouldn’t fit right anymore. 

“As promised,” Laroy said, a smile on his face as he presented the weapon to her. 

“Damn,” Sophie smiled. “And it’s not even my birthday.” 

One of Laroy’s men moved in closer to her. She eyed him. Laroy shook his head, and he stopped. 

“You know I’m armed, Laroy,” Sophie said, voice tinged with exasperation. “If I’d wanted to cause you harm, I wouldn't have rolled up with a smile on my face and this bag of cash in my hands.” 

Laroy nodded. “Not used to dealing with your type. Boys are just a little itchy is all.” 

She nodded. It tracked since she doubted there were many women like her at all. 

“Said you wanted to try the product, and I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say I was very interested in a demonstration. So,” Laroy grinned. “I took the liberty of settin’ up a bit of a challenge course for you.” 

A slow smile spread across Sophie’s face. Turning to face Laroy she inclined her head towards the table. 

“May I?” 

Laroy looked to the two guys behind the table and gestured to them. They moved around to the other side, came to flank Laroy. He held out his arm towards the weapon. 

“Be my guest.” 

Placing the duffle bag below the table, Sophie reached up towards the weapon. She ran her hands along the stock, down the barrel - a tingle of excitement raced up her spine. Lifting it into her arms, she did a quick run-through. Releasing the magazine, she cleared the weapon visually before sliding everything back into place. Part of her wanted to shout “locked and loaded” just to imagine her training officer’s face before having her do push-ups until her arms gave out, but she resisted. Instead, she dropped to her knees and set the Barrett M82A1 on the ground in front of her. Settling in, she opened the scope. 

She could see the targets Laroy had set up for her. A fair distance away, but nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. Behind her, she could hear shuffling, mumbled conversations, but she blocked them out, narrowed her focus to the air moving through her lungs. Sighting the first target, she took a breath and squeezed the trigger. Like riding a bike. She quickly moved through the rest of the twelve targets she’d spotted before clearing the weapon and standing to her feet. 

Laroy stared at her as though reassessing everything he thought he knew about the universe. His face didn’t give much away, but she could read it in his eyes. The guys who’d come with him kept stealing glances at her, dancing on their feet a bit. 

“Money’s all there, but I understand if you want to count it while I pack this baby back up.” 

Nodding slowly, Laroy stroked a hand down his chin. “You say it’s all there,” he shrugged. “It’s all there.” 

Sophie turned back to the table and began to disassemble the rifle before putting it into the case. 

“Seems you’ve settled into Charming nicely.” 

Sophie chuckled. She snapped the latches and hauled the case from the table to rest by her feet. Turning to face him, she settled her sunglasses back on her face. “That a question? Or we just making small talk?” 

“You know we do business with the Sons.” 

Sophie inclined her head. She might not have done all the pre-planning she should have, but she did enough to make sure her supply line wasn't going to blow up in her face. While she knew street alliances were held together with a spit and a prayer at most, she also knew it was the best option. 

“Told you I don’t shit where I eat.” 

“They know you doin’ business with us?”

Sophie sighed. “Not sure it’s any of their concern.” 

Laroy tilted his head, stroked his thumb along his jaw. “And if the Sons were to make it their concern?” 

“Seems like I’d have a situation to deal with. Not sure what it would have to do with you.” 

“Just so we’re clear, sweetheart, I like business with you. It’s straightforward, but this thing with the Sons, well, those lines aren’t always straight. Not looking for anyone to be caught where they ain’t supposed to be.” 

“I told you my bullets weren't for you. I typically only shoot at people who are shooting at me first.”

“Typically?”

Sophie smirked. “Man in your line of work understands the importance of both clarity and avoiding the use of absolutes. It’s been my experience that not much is guaranteed in this life, no matter how you play it.” 

“I can respect that.” 

“Good. Good.” Sophie nodded to herself. “We both know how this goes, Mr. Wayne. I expect you to protect yours same as I’d protect mine, but before you start thinking about making things less straight, ask yourself who is gonna be better at protecting their own. I’ve no need for more enemies in my life. They’re a nuisance and a waste of my time. Bad blood isn’t good for anyone’s bottom line. And dead bodies don’t make anyone any money.” 

Laroy chuckled. “Damn. Seems you know how this world works. I like your style, girl.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Sophie held out her hand. Laroy took it and gave it a shake. “Likewise.”

One of Laroy’s men came up, whispered in his ear. Sophie felt their eyes on her as they continued to exchange hushed words. Face drawn into a frown, Laroy gave his guy a friendly clap on the shoulder before sending him off. 

“Seems you have a tail.”

Sophie felt her eyes widen. She’d been so careful about leaving town, about having a solid story for being out of Charming in case anyone were to ask about her. Maybe Zobelle had one of his men following her now? 

“My guys tell me a couple of Sons came through Oakland. Seems they were looking for you. One of them saw your car. They know we met.” 

“Damn,” Sophie swore. “I’ll take care of it. Seems I’ve got a situation to deal with.” 

As though on cue, her phone rang. Glancing down, she saw Jax’s name flash. Offering Laroy a wry grin, she brought the phone to her ear. 

“Hey Jax.”

Laroy returned her grin.  

“Wanna tell me why I got a call from Happy tellin’ me you’re in Oakland?”

“No. Wanna tell me why you’ve got people following me?” 

“You know why. Happy’s gonna follow you back into Charming. Don’t argue with me.” 

“I don’t need an escort, Jax. I can take care of myself.” 

“This isn’t a discussion, babe. You can tell me what the fuck you’re doing with the Niners when you get to TM.”  

“Screw you, Jax.”

Sophie hung up the phone. It immediately started ringing again. Glazing down, seeing that it was Jax, Sophie sighed before turning off the ringer and shoving it into her pocket. 

“Looks like I’ve got some domestic challenges to go deal with. The Sons have someone tailing me, and I didn’t know about it, or I would have told you. We square?” 

Laroy had an amused look on his face. “Can’t blame a man for wanting to keep his woman safe.” 

“Never said I was his woman.” 

Laroy inclined his head. “He seems to think you are.” 

“Either way, I can take care of myself. Now, I’ve got a trigger-happy babysitter to go take care of, so if we’re good, I’ll go move my issues out of your hair.” 

“We good,” Laroy said with a slow nod of his head. “Lemme know if you need to do any more shopping. I like what ends up on your list.” 

Sophie chuckled under her breath. Loading the case into the trunk of her car Sophie sighed. Driving away from the middle of nowhere, she realized it felt a little nice to know someone cared about her enough to send a tail. Of course, this same someone was of the chest-pounding grunting instead of speaking words variety, but he had a nice ass so she could forgive a lot. She’d told Jax nearly everything about Olivia, about Michael. Of course, she’d left out the details about her job with the Corps, mostly out of habit because just about every mission had been deemed classified. As saw the bike pull up behind her Charger as she drove through the less gentrified parts of Oakland, she also realized she’d neglected to tell Jax anything about her plans to shoot Zobelle between the eyes with the weapon she just picked up from the Niners. Those small details of her plan that might bite her in the ass kept piling up. 

When the bike started flashing her, she slowed and pulled to the side of the road. Rolling her window down she waited for whoever Jax sent to come up to her car. A frown creased her face as she recognized Happy approaching her door. While she didn’t know the ins and outs of SAMCRO, she knew the look in the man’s eye, recognized the way he held himself. Quiet, tightly coiled aggression just waiting for a reason to spring free. 

“You following me all day?” Sophie asked as Happy leaned against her door. 

“Until your ass is back at TM.” 

Sophie nodded. “Got a stop to make first. Rough terrain might fuck up the suspension.”

Happy didn’t say anything, but he did nod. It was enough for Sophie. She rolled the window up and took off down the highway, smiling as she watched Happy rush back to his bike in an effort to keep her in sight. He caught up easily enough, and she hadn’t been trying to lose him - just make him work for it. The closer she got to her nest, the more her skin crawled. Knowing someone else knew unsettled her in ways that she didn’t think she was still capable of. Even when she’d been deployed there’d been a tacit understanding about how things worked. She grit her teeth at the idea of finding a new location. 

Ignoring Happy’s presence, or at least pretending to, Sophie parked next to the door and pulled the case from the trunk. Setting it by her feet, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Happy let out a low whistle from somewhere behind her. The place was stocked with hardware and supplies that had been easier and more legal to acquire. Some were items she’d retrofit and modify to create new custom items for her mission. Lifting the case onto a shelf near the back, she slid her hands across the front, a smile crossing her lips. Things might not have gone exactly to plan, but she had nearly everything she needed to get rid of Zobelle. 

“How many?”

Spinning on her heel, Sophie turned to face Happy. She wanted to feign ignorance, act like she didn’t understand what he was asking her, but she couldn’t. Not when he had that look on his face. Her shoulders slumped as she pressed her eyes closed, memories flashing behind her lids. 

“Celebrated my first kill with a virgin Piña Colada because the bar near the base had nearly been shut down a few months earlier due to serving minors. They checked each of us, and my fake ID didn’t make the cut. Not old enough to drink, but old enough to get paid legal money to kill someone whose name I never even knew.”

She didn’t see any pity in Happy’s eyes as he studied her, and no matter what else happened, she’d always appreciate that. He stood stone still, only his eyes moving as they took her in, searching for something. 

“How many?”

“Sixteen confirmed kills.” 

Happy’s eyes narrowed. “How many?” 

Sophie shook her head gently before turning her back to him. She lifted the bottom of her shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse of her tattoos. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw his jaw tick as he seemed to count the petals. Smart boy. 

“One petal for each,” Sophie said, voice soft. “There are 29 petals.” 

His fingers on her skin startled her. Goosebumps erupted as he traced the petals with a whisper-soft touch. 

“Jax know?” 

“He knows I was a Marine. Knows what brought me here. Didn’t think he needed to know everything.”  

“You don’t trust him,” Happy said as he tugged her shirt down.

It wasn’t a question, and he wasn’t exactly wrong, but it made her feel defensive nonetheless. She did trust him more than most, probably more than she should. Still, even she knew it wasn’t enough, not when Happy said it so matter of factly. The MC brotherhood worked on trust, on absolute trust - she hadn’t had that sort of thing in years. 

“I don’t trust him to let me deal with my demons in my own way. I didn’t come to Charming to get help from the likes of Jax Teller and his outlaw biker gang.”

“You’re his Old Lady.” 

Sophie barked out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I’ve heard, but I never agreed to that. We barely know each other, and like you said, I don’t trust him. Not with this. He’ll make it his business, his job to protect me, and I can’t have that. Not this time. I won’t let him risk the MC for me.” 

“You meeting with the Niners could have put the MC at risk.” 

“A calculated risk. You’re on good terms with them. I don’t shit where I eat.”

“You meeting with the Niners could have put your relationship with Jax at risk.” 

She froze as his words registered in her brain. The full weight of Happy being here of seeing everything hit her with the force of a tank. Honestly, she liked Charming, liked her silly office job at the station - she’d spent so many months thinking she’d lost everything, that she’d gained new things to lose without taking the time to recognize it. Olivia would have a knowing look on her face, the “I told you so” unspoken between them, but Sophie would be able to read it in her eyes. Even Michael had told her to leave it be, but she couldn’t. Something in her chest pinched at the thought of just walking away.

“I can’t allow him to live.” 

“Who?”

Sophie looked at Happy, searched his eyes for something. She envied his poker face because he gave nothing away. However she answered his question would change everything, she knew it in her gut. She’d never once stopped to think about after. A time after Zobelle was dead hadn’t existed until this moment. Her career was over. Going home would be complicated at best. Which left Charming. Jax. SAMCRO. If she allowed herself, she could see it. See a future where she was Jax’s Old Lady, well, maybe not the silent, ask-no-questions type he expected, but she’d stand at his shoulder through whatever came at them. Lying would ensure her revenge, but at what cost? Lies killed as easily as bullets. If she lied now, that future would be forever tainted. 

“Zobelle.” 

Sophie pushed the name past her lips on a rush of air as her knees gave out. Happy caught her just before she crashed to the floor. 

“Zobelle went after Gemma, threatened the Club. He’s going down.” 

Sophie shook her head. “That’s exactly what he wants, and if you do it the way I know you want to - the way I see it in your eyes, he’ll take you down before you know what hit you. I’ve seen it before, and I won’t let it happen again. I’ll shoot you myself before I let that happen.” 

“Jax needs to know.” 

Sophie nodded. “He knows everything except my deal with the Niners and my little nest here. Oh and the number of bodies I’ve dropped - he doesn’t know that either, but he’s seen the tattoo.” 

Happy’s phone rang. He glanced up at her before turning to answer it. Sophie glanced around her nest, wondered at the sharp turn her life had taken today. She’d been to war before - real ones with politics and lines drawn on maps and stakes she understood but wasn’t overly concerned by because she was part of a larger machine. As she heard Happy tell who she assumed was Jax that he’d found her and was bringing her home, she realized SAMCRO would go to war with or without her - and she’d be damned if she allowed them to leave her behind.

Part 9

Master List

[the-way-astray]

hate your lover, love your hater, and be studied by her friend: pt.2

'I don't believe it,' Stria said, for what must have been at least the twenty-seventh time. 'I don't believe he exists. I don't believe any of it exists. But it does, and he does. How did Shannon find out about this? Wouldn't it be a global secret protected by three thousand organizations across the world? It should be on conspiracy theory websites, not in a middle-grade book series!'

She was sitting in a small cafe with Katie now, sipping at a milkshake as though it was the single thread she was holding on by. She may as well have been. Shannon Messenger knew world secrets. The Lost Cities were real. Keefe was real, and could now read about how Shannon had written him—how he was. (At that last thought, Stria brightened. That was a second thread to hold on by.)

'He's just like Shannon described!' replied Katie. 'Or at least, looks like that. I'll text him and let you know more. And he'll probably get back to you about your rant. Tell me everything once he does—his responses will be very enlightening.'

Stria scowled, and muttered, 'I hope that rant incinerates him with the power of my hatred.'

Katie shrugged. 'It might. Or it might inspire him to become a better person. It's possible.'

Stria didn't think it was, but she'd lost faith in the statement 'it's impossible' by now, so she glumly accepted that this was the life she lived, and went home. At least there she had things to do which would stop her from thinking about things like 'how did Shannon find out about their characterization' and 'why do I believe this' and 'why is this believable' and even the inevitable 'am I in a dream or fictional reality'. She really did not have the time for this.

That night, Keefe got back to her. Unfortunately.

Hey, Hater Girl?! he texted at 9:38pm. Even just the nickname was enough to make Stria's blood boil. She couldn't believe he existed. I'm only one heading ('Keeper', whatever that means) into your rant and I'm seriously starting to believe that you're spying on us. How do you know our secrets? Our conversations?! You weren't there for any of them. I thought humans didn't even know that elves existed?

I have my sources, Stria replied. Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel excited about Keefe reading her rant. With luck, her hatred would destroy him on the spot. Or at least confuse him and leave him dissatisfied. And you're one to talk about spying. I know very well how you take the secrets of anyone who's in touching distance—and sometimes not even that.

What do you m— Keefe had to have hit send accidentally, because the message stopped there. This was followed by:

“Keefe nudged Dex’s arm, then grinned at Sophie. ‘Interesting.’ ‘What?’ Dex asked. ‘Which one’s your gift, Dex?’ Sophie interrupted. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Keefe was going to tease Dex about.” Here we mark the start of Keefe using his empathy to learn people’s secrets without their consent. He feels not a hint of remorse for it, and instead uses it as a way to breach people’s boundaries and embarrass them. As a lot of people have already said, Keefe is the primary reason empathy should have similar restrictions on it to telepathy. [keeper]

He was quoting her rant at her.

Stria wasn't sure how to feel about that.

I can't help but feel things? It's my ability, Hater Girl! he said.

Oh, that was rich. You *reached out* to touch him, she typed. That was deliberate, and while Shannon lets you get away with it, I definitely won't, and your legislative system shouldn't either. Then again, if you're real, then I'm not sure about how much choice she has over characterization.

WHO IS SHANNON?!!!! came the response, not a moment later. Why do you know about us? I can tell you're hiding something. okay? And all Empaths do this?! If you know so much about us, you should know that people get officially examined by Empaths just like this.

And who gave you the right?

Keefe didn't respond for a solid minute.

You know, he said at last, no one would tell me things if I didn't act like I could find out. That's how things work here. I don't know how it is with humans, but I *know* no one's going to tell me things otherwise.

He was a numbskull. He really was like this. Shannon had not exaggerated. Stria wanted to strangle him there and then, even though he wasn't even in the room. That's because they don't *want* to tell you those things! Do you realize you don't actually have a right to know all your friends' secrets?! And especially not the right to tease them about it if you can tell it's sensitive?!!! The example after the next one is of you actually being a decent friend, so don't tell me you don't know what you're doing. I haven't even sent you Unlocked yet.

What's Unlocked? Keefe asked. Stria wondered absently whether it had happened for him yet—if he had time to text random humans, and had light-leaped here, then the answer was most likely no. How'd that work, then? Had Shannon had visions of the future? Or maybe time moved differently in the Lost Cities. Stria would be willing to accept the latter.

And anyway, WHO is telling you all of this? This Shannon person? What do you mean by series? And THIS:

“‘Wow—you really sleep with this thing? I thought Fitz was kidding when he gave it to you when you were recovering.’ Sophie snatched Ella away [ . . . ]” Keefe continues to make fun of Sophie for her stuffed animal tendencies. You know, it’s possible to be funny and make jokes without actively tearing people down. But wait, you may say. Keefe shows some development later because he starts to sleep with his own stuffed animal! Doesn’t that mean he learned and grew? No, I would argue back at you. The issue is not actually that Keefe made fun of Sophie’s stuffed animal in particular. The issue is that most of Keefe's jokes actively revolve around making fun of someone and putting them down. And that never changes, even later in the series. This is simply one example. [exile]

I joke because it's hard for me to talk about serious things otherwise! And I find human things funny.

Stria wanted to incinerate him herself. For all Sophie was called oblivious, it was more than clear than Keefe was a far greater offender. Or worse—he knew what he was doing, and regretted nothing. As he'd find out from her rant soon enough. That's the only thing, the ONLY thing she has from her human life which doesn't have some sort of emotionally fraught memory attached to it! Stria told him. She can't sleep without it, and that's fine. It's not funny. Any time you rile people up for fun isn't funny. And that explanation about using jokes to cover things up is EVEN LESS FUNNY. This is one of the main reasons why I hate you to the core of my being and to the core of yours. Keep reading.

I don't think I can do more than the end of this heading, he texted. When Dex told me that he'd found a human 'website' where someone was hating me he didn't tell me how much! Like, wow, you're really making me feel like the Most Horrible Elf Ever. And you don't even know me. You don't even know me. I'm going to make you like me now. It will be Hater Girl and Keefe forever. Actually, what's your name?

You can call me Stria, Stria replied. And you *are* the most horrible elf ever. To me. Hope this helps.

Keestria forever then, he replied, ignoring her second comment. Stria took a minute to imagine hurling Keefe Sencen's blond-haired, blue-eyed, smirking, winking, unfortunately real self into the burning Sun. She imagined throwing Dex in too. If she'd disliked him before, then she hated him now only second to Keefe, for ruining her peace, sanity, and blissful ignorance.

But since she couldn't do that (yet), she decided to haunt Keefe's nightmares instead by typing: And if you want to know about Shannon, then Shannon Messenger is a human author who's passing your entire world off as a work of fiction in this world. As far as most of the world is concerned, you're fictional. I don't know how she has access to you and your secret moments, but that's how I know you. She's even written books from your perspective, so don't think you can hide all those thoughts. In fact, Shannon managed to make his thought processes look unreliable sometimes too, but that was unreliable narrating which Keefe didn't need to know about.

Stria smiled in satisfaction, sent the message, told Katie to meet her the next day to talk the entire matter over, and climbed into bed to fall asleep. As she turned the lights in her room off, she reflected that there was in fact a silver lining to the affair: at least the Keefe lovers on Pinterest hadn't found out about his very real existence yet. There was, after all, only so much she could tolerate.

*

Pt.3 on request (as before). Quotes are from the famous anti-Keefe rant. It's impressively long, and as I read it, more of it might feature in here. If anyone wants to come for my blood for 'Keestria', I'm just continuing Shannon's trend of including ship names in the books which most of the fandom doesn't use.

Also if it isn't too much trouble, I would love to know how you figured out that this was me, so please do tell (no pressure though)!

Non-anonymously but on anon for the bit,

— @worldsunlikemyown/the 'meta anon'

going to do this in backwards order. so there's a couple of things that helped me pin you down when you made part one:

the second i saw the word "meta" i had suspicions. to my knowledge, you're the only person in this entire fandom who uses that word instead of "analysis". i started using the word because of you, honestly. your vocabulary is rubbing off on me . . . also it's nice and short (for ask box title purposes) and sounds official. i like it. but it's a dead giveaway when it comes to you.

you are, in fact, the very first person to ever try to convince me this ship could work, on a substantial level. your reblog to the post that started this all matched up almost perfectly with what you said in the anon ask.

you mentioned my aldella thoughts in the fic, which is like. yeah anyone who sees my posts could know how obsessed i am with them, but there are only a handful of people that i feel consistently reblog my aldella posts and understand my obsession with them. and you definitely fit that. most people in this fandom pretty much only know me for my keefe hatred. i doubt many people are aware of my aldella obsession, relatively speaking.

also you have a vibe. this isn't really the right word, but it feels sort of . . . meek? almost? and polished. like in the post i linked above for example you use the phrase "in my humble opinion", which is common, but i do feel like you are far more scared to offend someone than the average fandom person is. and in the anon ask you used "if i may try to convince you" like you're asking for permission almost, and most of the asks i've gotten are very direct and to the point. also at the end you talking about being small, frail and weak was like. i get it was a joke but it definitely gave off that same vibe. i don't know if you're actually like this, since i have little exposure to your posts in general, but you give off the vibe of someone who's not trying to create ripples. and more so than other people. and you also used the word "humorously", like it feels very formal. if you know what i mean, instead of a word like funny, for example.

also the single quote thing . . . honestly not suspicious to me at all. it was something i noticed, but wasn't really something that made me think it was you. likely because i haven't really read your fics.

interesting that you changed your spelling . . . though it was always more about your word choice than it was about spelling.

the only thing that kinda threw me off was that other than that original post, you didn't seem to be aware of the entire drama at all. so that's why i was only 92% sure lol.

i think the main thing with me is. i look through all. my. notes. even if i don't respond, i guarantee that i've seen your reblog/reply/whatever else it may be. sorry for not responding :( sometimes i feel like i don't have anything interesting to add. but if you reblog consistently from me, i'm going to be very aware of your existence, especially when it comes to what sorts of posts you tend to skew toward.

anyway, now onto thoughts about part two:

"'I don't believe it,' Stria said, for what must have been at least the twenty-seventh time." starting off strong with a shannon messenger-esque line, i see. i don't tend to repeat things over and over out of shock, as shannon loves to make sophie do.

"'It should be on conspiracy theory websites, not in a middle-grade book series!'" so this is more of like. instead of a fourth wall breach, it's like i already live in the same "plane of existence" as the gang. interesting. so shannon is somehow spying on sophie and relating the news back in story form.

"She was sitting in a small cafe with Katie now, sipping at a milkshake as though it was the single thread she was holding on by." oooooh, milkshake. clearly someone's been keeping up with never change.

"(At that last thought, Stria brightened. That was a second thread to hold on by.)" i love this paragraph for some reason. idk the structure calls to me.

"'Or at least, looks like that. I'll text him and let you know more. And he'll probably get back to you about your rant. Tell me everything once he does—his responses will be very enlightening.'" tumblr-accurate katie.

"Stria scowled, and muttered, 'I hope that rant incinerates him with the power of my hatred.' Katie shrugged. 'It might. Or it might inspire him to become a better person. It's possible.'" yes, i want keefe incinerated, but i want it to be painless, as if he'd never existed at all. but this is unfortunately very accurate for katie . . . sigh.

"Hey, Hater Girl?! he texted at 9:38pm. Even just the nickname was enough to make Stria's blood boil." ACCURATE I HATE KEEFE'S DUMBASS NICKNAMES THEY'RE SO CRINGE. not for me . . . spare me . . . and this is so keefe. you captured his cringe perfectly.

"I have my sources, Stria replied. Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel excited about Keefe reading her rant. With luck, her hatred would destroy him on the spot." yeah i'd be kicking and giggling if i got to hand keefe a copy of my rant.

"I can't help but feel things? It's my ability, Hater Girl! he said. Oh, that was rich. You *reached out* to touch him, she typed. That was deliberate, and while Shannon lets you get away with it, I definitely won't, and your legislative system shouldn't either. Then again, if you're real, then I'm not sure about how much choice she has over characterization." YOU CAPTURED OUR DYNAMIC SO WELL I'M SCREAMING. YES. this is literally how he defends himself, by saying "i can't help it :(" and yes that's EXACTLY how my rants are. but yeah, in this universe i suppose shannon wouldn't have much control. so i can hardly be mad at her anymore.

"He was a numbskull. He really was like this. Shannon had not exaggerated. Stria wanted to strangle him there and then, even though he wasn't even in the room. That's because they don't *want* to tell you those things! Do you realize you don't actually have a right to know all your friends' secrets?! And especially not the right to tease them about it if you can tell it's sensitive?!!! The example after the next one is of you actually being a decent friend, so don't tell me you don't know what you're doing. I haven't even sent you Unlocked yet." NUMBSKULL I'M DYING THIS IS SO FUNNY. and yes . . . why is this man like this . . . and i love the implication that i have the entire rant memorized and could easily tell keefe what the example from two examples down is from memory alone . . . that's so goofy. and oh, boy. unlocked . . .

"It's not funny. Any time you rile people up for fun isn't funny. And that explanation about using jokes to cover things up is EVEN LESS FUNNY. This is one of the main reasons why I hate you to the core of my being and to the core of yours. Keep reading." "it's not funny" . . . accurate description of keefe sencen. and YES keep reading. rubbing my hands together in barely contained glee, i am.

"When Dex told me that he'd found a human 'website' where someone was hating me he didn't tell me how much! Like, wow, you're really making me feel like the Most Horrible Elf Ever. And you don't even know me. You don't even know me. I'm going to make you like me now. It will be Hater Girl and Keefe forever. Actually, what's your name?" wait if dex found my tumblr blog, shouldn't keefe already have seen my rant? it's the very first link in my pinned post . . . lol. he's not the most horrible elf ever. however he is the most horrible elf ever proportional to how the narrative treats him. hope this helps. AND NOT HIM FUCKING. JOKE SHIPPING US. ALREADY. AFTER HAVING KNOWN ME FOR LIKE POINT THREE SECONDS. THIS IS UTTERLY IN CHARACTER GOOD JOB, DOE.

"You can call me Stria, Stria replied. And you *are* the most horrible elf ever. To me. Hope this helps." my "hope this helps" . . . you know me so well *sniff* this is perfect.

"Keestria forever then, he replied, ignoring her second comment. Stria took a minute to imagine hurling Keefe Sencen's blond-haired, blue-eyed, smirking, winking, unfortunately real self into the burning Sun. She imagined throwing Dex in too. If she'd disliked him before, then she hated him now only second to Keefe, for ruining her peace, sanity, and blissful ignorance." NOT THE SHIP NAME . . . THIS IS SO KEEFE. THIS IS SO FUCKING KEEFE. OH MY FUCKING GOODNESS. and yeah, i would not be dex's biggest fan after this. i'm not even right now.

"In fact, Shannon managed to make his thought processes look unreliable sometimes too, but that was unreliable narrating which Keefe didn't need to know about." he is unreliable . . . they all are . . .

"Stria smiled in satisfaction, sent the message, told Katie to meet her the next day to talk the entire matter over, and climbed into bed to fall asleep." it's so funny to me how these fics characterize me as someone that would choose to go to katie to talk over all the keefe developments with. realistically speaking, she's about the last person i'd go to. but i get it.

"[ . . . ] at least the Keefe lovers on Pinterest hadn't found out about his very real existence yet." doe. doe. i don't like the way this feels like foreshadowing. will the keefe lovers on pinterest find out. i need to know. for. reasons.

ooooh, you're reading my rant???? totally not giggling and kicking my feet . . .

and yeah, shannon has a tendency to use the worst ship names. sokeefe doesn't make a single appearance in the canon story, instead we get keephie. what the heck. and fitzphie is preferred over sophitz . . . sigh. good on you for that. i still hate keestria, though.

anyway this was fantastic. no strieefe to be seen, and really, really good. you should definitely make a part three. @myfairkatiecat tagging you because you're a character . . .

[sneezingfetishftw-fics]

A rigorous training is nothing to sneeze at

(Btw if you haven’t seen the reboot, Harry Wilson is the new guy)

Harry Wilson stared transfixed at the woman suspended from the ceiling. She was sneezing over and over and over again, which in itself would have been odd enough. But each sneeze was stifled so as to be inaudible, and despite her dangling she remained remarkably still.

“Is this, uh… normal?” He asked. “Like, do we need a doctor in here or is this just typical Parker?” The aforementioned Parker frowned, but she was too preoccupied to speak.

Eliot rolled his eyes and sighed. “She did this to herself. Only thing that sets her off that much is one specific rare perfume that’s ridiculously expensive, and I just watched her spray it all over herself. Can’t you smell it?”

Mr. Wilson took a whiff and there it was, a cloying floral scent with some other traces he couldn’t quite make out. “But why? Why would she do that to herself?”

“Training,” Sophie answered, as Harry’s expression grew more and more perplexed. Seeing his raised eyebrows, she continued. “She heard about how Hardison almost blew a con due to his nasty dust allergy, so now she thinks she has to be prepared to control any possible symptoms, no matter how unlikely they might be.”

Harry nodded slowly. “And she’s in the air because…?”

“To recreate the dangerous environment as closely as possible,” Parker replied, finally regaining her breath. “One wrong move, one wrong sound, could be the difference between succeeding or being noticed.” She gave an experimental sniff, then a shrug. “Seems to have worn off! Now I gotta rerun this training with lasers.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll never understand you people, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t admire the dedication.”

“Lying? To a bunch of conmen? Perish the thought!” Sophie said, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The lawyer just shook his head and sighed as Parker fired up the lasers and gave the perfume another spray. Just what kind of people had he gotten himself involved with?

[theogony]

nocturne in silver and blue

a/n : written originally for the kotlc secret santa for @that-glasses-dog except i horribly procrastinated on it </3. anyway i hope you enjoy the fic regardless because it is a 6k worddump on love existing despite everything and involves some of the hardest writing i've ever had to do (which probably explains the tonal whiplash). also i have already said too much so i will let you read the rest of this fic now

“Yup,” he enunciates, popping the last syllable - not missing the sharp intake of breath from a person he knows all too well. “Neither of us have been found by our soulmates yet. Which makes me wonder - what about you, Tam? Is there any lucky girl or guy in your cards yet?” The boy in question goes rigid - unusually so, and the voice that next emerges is so painfully cold it feels downright wrong. “No, of course not. Did it seem like the opposite?” Keefe’s eyes narrow, his gaze analytical at the stiffness in his movements. A heartbeat passes between the both of them, and the steely grey of Tam’s irises gleam like a knife’s edge. Keefe wonders if it’d be like kissing steel - like pricking blood that beads up like dirtied snow. “You’re lying.” - Alternatively; In a world where you see in greyscale until you hear your soulmate laugh for the first time, Keefe laughs a lot - loud and bright. Tam...barely even smiles.

Contrary to popular belief, Keefe doesn’t quite hate Tam Song. 

Sure, there was that tiny blip between the two of them - that blip of time when they fought like cats and dogs, both too eager to prove themselves to a world that refused to accept them for what they were and moulded them into something jaded and angry. 

But Keefe has never hated Tam Song.

He's come close to starting right now, though. 

“Wait…you're telling me that Keefe Sencen can't carry a tune to save his life?”

Tam smiles mildly as he plays back the recording of an extremely familiar muffled voice in the showers. 

“Give me that!”

As Keefe launches himself onto Tam's prone body without much warning, the rest of them begin to hoot and cheer, the easy light of the campfire warming them as they all gorged on the leftover marshmallows from the council meeting/friend group meetup/sleepover made to remedy the fact that neither Tam or Linh had ever been to one. 

Before Keefe can properly grab a fistful of his bangs, a peal of laughter rings out from the corner like tinkling bells - and the rest of them quiet down, staring at Linh - who's currently trying to muffle the growing redness in her face into a stuffed pillow. 

“...what?”

Dex shrugs, before reaching out to grab another handful of chips, ignoring Sophie's loud exclamation. 

“Anyone seen any life-changing colours yet?”

The entire group blinks, and Linh momentarily stiffens, before relaxing after no one shifts forward - only to coil back when Keefe teasingly pokes her in her ribs. 

“No need to look so relieved there - I'm sure I would have made a beautiful soulmate.”

Linh shrugs, cheeks reddening even further as the rest of them fully face her now. Tam warily shifts closer, only halting after she places a gentle hand on his. 

read the rest on ao3!

[the-offside-rule]

George Russell (Mercedes AMG) - Sunday Mornings

Requested: yes

Prompt: dad george🥺

Warnings: dad george🥺

The soft honey glow from the sun crept into the room through the curtains and of all the places it could have shone, of course it had to shine into your bloody eyes. You groaned in displeasure and coveereed your eyes with your hands to shield yourself from the sudden brightness. A familiar pair of strong arms found their way around your waist and pulled you closer. A smile creptt onto George's lips as he felt you in his arms. "Well good morning." You said turning around to him. "Good morning tto you too." He replied. "Nice dream?" You asked. He smirked and nodded. "Yeah, it siree looks like it darling." George looks down a bit embarrassed butt finds that you were only joking. You laugh at his face. "That's not funny. You never know when Sophie could just run in." He said. Sophie was your two year old daughter. Such a lovely little petal. "It's half eight. You think she's gonna be up at this time?" George shrugged his shoulders and placed a kiss onto your lips. "You never know. She does love cartoons." George said to you. "She can't reach the bloody TV or the control!"

"I suppose." He said quietly. "So she's probably gonna come in and ask one of us to get her the cartoons." You nodded. "Now you've got it." He chuckles. "Is that all she does up on Sunday? I'm not usually here." He asks. "Up until the race is on and then she's got her Williams clothes and screaming for her daddy." You say. "Wonder where she gets the screaming for daddy bit from." He jokes. "George Russell! I'm absolutely disgusted!" George laughs loudly and pulls you in again. "I'm joking. We've got to be quiet about itt now don't we?" You chuckled. "How did we get into this conversation?" George smiled as the sun perfectly lit up your face. "I don't know honestly. I only know we're in bed." Your smile only grew. George cupped your cheek and pulled your face in closer until your lips met into a familiar, loving kiss- "Mummy! Daddy! Can I get some cartoons on?"

You sighed as you looked over towards the door to see Sophie holding her doll. "Good morning princess." George chirped. Sophie ran over and climbed up onto the bed. "I want to get into bed too!" She whined. "You don't wanna be in mummy and daddy's bed. Not after what they've been up to." George said. You gasped and slapped his chest quite hard making him rippled in laughter. "What?" He managed to say tthrrough the laughs. "George! She is only two!" You said. "I was only joking!" He said in an attempt to defend himself. "Anyway, we can't stay for long. Daddy's got to go and have a call with his team but then, I'm all yours." Sophie smiled even wider. "Well, I want to do your hair and your nails and your makeup!"

George looked over at you with a worried look all over his face. "Cantt you do it on mummy?" Sophie shook her head and laughed as if it was a silly question. "Mummy is helping me with my cafe today so you need to be the person I put makeup and stuff on." George nodded and agreed to be her mannequin for the day. "So do you want cartoons on?" Her asked her. Sophie jumped out of George's clutches and ran all the way to the living room screaming a long "Yes!" George laughed and turned back to you. "I'll be back in a minute, darling." He said kissing your cheek. "Take your time. I love this bed all to myself."

"That's so rude." George said getting up. "Well hurry up before I change my mind then." George scurried out of tthee room and into thee living room. He spent an awfully long time there which was strange considering he wanted to stay in bed so you decided to investigate. You crept out to the living room to see why George is taking so long only to find him with Sophie on his lap watching Frozen together. "So why is the snow one hiding from the ginger one?" He asked. Sophie groaned. "Elsa has snow powers and doesn't want to upset Anna." She said sounding annoyed. "Keep up dad." George nodded and continued watching. You smiled and walked over sitting beside him. "You seem very invested in this." You whispered. George looked back to you and nodded. "I am. It's actually quite good." George said happily. "I've watched it so many times it's started to piss me off." You admitted. George furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you confused. "I don't see how you can hate this film." You raised your eyebrows and lay back. "Give it a week." He turned back around. "What?"

"Oh nothing. You just sit there and watch the movie." George wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer. You leaned your head onto his chest and smiled. Was this happily ever after? It couldn't possibly get any better than this.

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (26 x 40s). Minors, do not interact.

"Ava."

"Mmrph."

"Ava," I feel something soft on the top of my head, "We're here."

My eyes shoot open, remembering where I was, bracing for landing.

"Shh, shh. We've already landed." Javi's hand is stroking my hair, and I realize that his arm has been around me, and I had been asleep on his shoulder. My cheeks warm, and I hope immediately that no one else from the crew is sitting in our vicinity.

"I'm sorry," I say sitting up. I straighten my t-shirt and start to finger-comb my hair.

"For what?"

"Um...that." I gesture one of my hands toward his muscular chest, and where his arm is still resting on the back of my seat. Is it possible that his lips look even fuller in the morning?

He just shrugs, "I slept like a baby."

Everyone around us is already deboarding, and I realize that we must've landed more than ten minutes ago. Javi steps over me before reaching down and grabbing my backpack.

"You don't have to do that." I say, but he ignores me as he reaches for the overhead compartment. I was such a wreck yesterday that I didn't even know he stored something up there. He reaches up, exposing a line of skin in between the bottom of his crewneck and his jeans. I stare for a little too long, but manage to peel my eyes away before he turns back to me.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, and carrying my backpack in his left hand, he extends his right hand to me.

"Shall we?"

After customs and baggage claim, the smell of the Milan air hits me like a soft, warm pillow. Not that L.A. air isn't warm, but it certainly isn't as fresh as this. I stand outside the automatic sliding doors, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, as if the gods can sense my moment of peace, my phone rings.

"Hey, Dwayne." I try to sound chipper as Javi exits out of the door behind me.

"Ava, you landed?"

"Yep, just leaving the airport now. We're off today, right?" Maybe it would help if I physically crossed my fingers.

"Technically, yes. But we're shooting at sunrise tomorrow. You're one floor down from Wyatt and Gutierrez. I need you to get them at around one thirty."

"One thirty...a.m.?"

"Yes. The call sheet should already be in your room with their room numbers. Can you make sure they're up and on set by 2:30 tomorrow? Lake Como is about an hour away."

You mean tonight. "Absolutely. See you then."

I check the time after Dwayne hangs up. Apparently I was behind on sleep, because I had slept nearly the entire thirteen hours it took to get here. Was Javi seriously asleep that whole time? I hope I didn't force him to sit there in silence with the possibility of me drooling on his shoulder. I push that thought away for now. It's already almost five. We essentially need to go to the hotel now if we want time to eat and get enough sleep before waking up at one in the morning for a 2:30 call time. I know that making sure the talent is there by 2:30 means getting up early enough to find them coffee or breakfast before dropping them off. I sigh, wishing I could bring back the feeling of the Milan air before it had the weight of work on top of it.

"Not that I was eavesdropping," Javi comes up behind me. I'd almost forgotten he was there. Almost. "But did I hear you say one thirty?"

"Dwyane wants you and Jack on set by 2:30 tomorrow. It's about an hour away. So, unfortunately, I will be the one waking you up this time."

Javi lowers his voice, "I don't think that's unfortunate."

I look up at him expectantly, taking an unconscious step forward. He bends his neck down, his arm extending out to meet me. But whatever could have transpired between us is cut off by the doors sliding open again, and at least ten cast and crew members piling out onto the sidewalk.

In a flurry, Barb and Sophie come over. Sophie starts trying to hail a taxi, and Barb is telling me all about how first class changes you as a person. I cast a look at Javi, who glances at me smugly before Emma bounds over to him. She looks completely airbrushed, even after such a long flight. I see her grab his arm and say something about how excited she is for the reunion scene at the lake. I decide to stop listening at that point.

Before I know it, I'm in a cab with Sophie and Barb, and Javi climbs into one with Emma and Jack. And in a strange twist of events, I actually started to wish I was back on that plane.

- - -

Apparently, Milan hotel showers are quite small. At least the rooms where the crew are staying. Nevertheless, the water feels heavenly in my tired, jetlagged state. If we're lucky, sometimes the production will spring for our own individual rooms. But with Lake Como being a decently pricey location, Norwick Productions has us bunking together. They allowed us to request a roommate, so obviously I'm with Lana, but she isn't here yet. Which means I get to shower and decompress in peace, pretending I'm a fancy socialite traveling around Europe.

I take my time in the shower, doing all the extra things I don't usually have the time or energy to do at home. By the time I'm done, I feel placid and like I could actually fall asleep again. I even take the time to wrap myself up in the hotel robe and open the curtains to look out at the city lights. The sun has already set, and the ancient streets below me are sparkling. It's actually hitting me that I'm in Italy for the first time. I have to find time to visit the Cathedral at least, even if I need to sneak in after dark. The architecture is incredible. I walk over to the tiny desk by the window that has the call sheet on it. I want to figure out if there actually is a day off here somewhere. That's when I see my phone light up.

Javi: Did you eat?

I stare at the text for a moment. If it weren't for him texting me the restaurant details of our first date several weeks ago, I would probably assume it was a mistake. But no, it was actually him.

I hadn't eaten, and my stomach growls at the thought. Maybe he needs me to pick something up and doesn't want to ask explicitly given our history? However brief.

Ava: No, I haven't. Would you like me to pick something up for you?

I feel like a professional response is the safest. I know we're slightly more than coworkers at this point, but saying anything else feels presumptuous. I stare back at our conversation for a minute, and then two, but he doesn't even start typing. I put my phone down and flop on one of the nearby beds. I close my eyes, hoping I'll be lucid enough to hear my ringtone if he responds.

A light tapping sound. Three taps, to be exact.

I open my eyes, not sure how long I'd been laying there. I wasn't asleep, just resting and basking in the ability to fully stretch out my legs.

There's the sound again.

Sitting up, I realize that someone is knocking at my door. I look down. I'm still wearing the hotel robe, and my hair is still wet. As I walk toward the door, I hope more than anything it's not Dwayne with some last minute request. I suppose he probably would have called first, but you never know in film.

I step on my tippy toes, looking through the peephole.

It's Javi.

My hand flies to my chest. I hastily tie the knot on my robe a little tighter, and try to smooth back my damp hair. He's already knocked twice, and if I want to answer before he leaves, I need to open the door now. I take a deep breath, and unlatch the lock.

Javi smiles warmly at me, holding up a plastic bag.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Minibar provisions."

My mouth falls open, glancing back at my small double bed room. "You have a mini bar?"

"That face makes me think my predictions were correct. I assumed they only gave me, Jack and Emma rooms with food."

"You may be right, but you can't beat my view," I open my door wider, pointing behind me to the lights outside.

Javi smirks, and I get the feeling that I'm missing out on a private joke. There's a pause, I forgot how people would normally act in these situations.

"Would you like to come in?" I smile.

"I don't want to impose. I just wanted to drop the stuff off..." he glances inside the plastic bag, obviously not sure what to do either. That calms me slightly.

"Come in, enjoy the view." I wink before silently cursing myself yet again. Does everything have to sound so suggestive in his presence?

He walks over to the window, placing the plastic bag on the desk. He starts to take out the contents and display them for me.

"Everything is in Italian, obviously. But the pictures make it look good. We've got some pastries, chips, and I brought some wine...though on second thought maybe we won't do that seeing as we have to be up in a few hours." He finishes placing everything on the desk and makes a show out of it, splaying his hands like a QVC sales rep.

I giggle at his display, making his face brighten. I grab one of the pastries, opening the package and savoring the smell.

"I figured you'd be hungry."

"You know," I say with a mouthful of my first bite, "l'm really supposed to be doing this for you."

He shakes his head, "This is only fair, after everything you had to put up with when the photos leaked..."

I swallowed a little harder than necessary. "It really wasn't that bad." My voice betrayed me, making it sound like I was lying. And I wasn't, honestly. The photos weren't bad, my name wasn't tarnished. What was bad was our conversation and our decision. And what was worse was I can't tell what he wants anymore. We're avoiding each other as much as possible on set but then he's comforting me on the flight and bringing me room service? I keep thinking of how he said we could come up with an arrangement, and the word makes my skin crawl.

I'm distracted from my thoughts when Javi turns and closes the curtains, cutting off my view.

"Um, excuse me. I liked it better with those open."

"Mmm," he turns back with his arms crossed, "And I liked it better knowing that random Italians can't see you in that robe."

I choke a little on my food. "I'm on the third floor."

"With the lights on, you can see everything from the street," he leans his hand against the top of the desk chair, his expression so serious I almost laugh.

"You're seeing me in the robe."

His grip tightens on top of the chair, "I know."

I put the last of my pastry down on the desk before crossing my arms in front of myself, mirroring his serious face. Though I was joking at first, part of me is actually irritated at this point. So what if Italian men saw me right now? He was going to be kissing Emma multiple times in the next few weeks, and the thought of someone glancing up and seeing me in a robe is too much?

I push him aside, ripping the curtains back open. He sighs, bringing his fingers up to his temples. I lean my back against the window, raising an eyebrow.

"I appreciate the food, and what you did for me on the plane. But if you want me to be some secret arrangement behind closed doors–"

"Absolutely not," his eyes flare, "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Right. Just no one else can look at me."

Javi shakes his head slowly, crossing his arms again. His eyes slowly trail up from the floor to my eyes, and he just holds them there. We stare off at each other for several moments, both of us clearly irritated. It feels like we're each waiting for the other to break. Break on what, I'm not sure. But it won't be me.

I slip off one of the shoulders on my robe, his eyes going wide, instinctively uncrossing his arms. My gaze is still just as harsh as I rip off the other shoulder, pushing the fabric down dangerously low, stopping just above my nipples.

"Ava," his voice is gravelly and filled with warning.

"What? You won't touch me and no one else can? They can't even look at me?"

I'm surprised by how I sound. It's not coming out challenging, or seductive, or angry, like I want it to be. I sound hurt. My words are tired and bruised.

Javi moves, gently placing his calloused hands on my bare shoulders. I inhale a shaky breath. I can tell he's looking for ques of my discomfort, as usual. But there are none. His touch feels as though I've felt him for years. As angry as I feel, nothing about him ever makes me uncomfortable. And he must be able to sense it, because he tightens his grip on me.

"I want to. You have to know that I want to." His brown eyes are filled with heat and sincerity, and it makes mine prick with tears. He catches the emotion in my eyes, slowly pulling the sides of my robe up to cover my shoulders again. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being selfish...and truthfully that's why I came here. All of it was selfish."

He pulls away from me, pacing in front of the two beds.

"Selfish how? Why did you come?" I ask, my voice softer than before.

"I, uh...saw a photo of you. Out with Lana. A man was kissing you," he looks back to me, letting out a humorless chuckle, "I was jealous. I saw the picture before the plane ride but that didn't feel like a good time to ask about it, obviously. So I came here out of jealousy. Completely selfish intentions." He looks mad, but I can tell by his demeanor that it's not directed at me.

For the second time this month, I'm realizing that I should probably have an Instagram. An anonymous one at least. Then I could prepare for these things.

"Javi...Lana just took that picture to get me out of the conversation with that guy. I didn't even know she posted it," I allow myself to smile just a little, "And as much as I would like to make you suffer, I left right after that. I was kind of pissed he kissed me, actually."

"You shouldn't have to explain yourself." He says even though he looks visibly relieved.

"No, I shouldn't," I sigh, "But I want to...I haven't liked anyone since John. Lana has tried to set me up but they never stuck. And then here you are," I flail my arm up and down, gesturing to his magnificent form, "And I can't even have you?" I look down at my feet, "I'm just angry at the whole situation."

Javi nods, taking a long breath.

"I am too. I called Jonah and my publicist as soon as the photos were released. I wanted to talk to you, to see how you were. They advised me against it but I shouldn't have listened, that was my fault. Come to think of it, they won't be pleased to hear about the plane ride either."

"I'm telling you, the pictures weren't that bad. They didn't show my face, and I don't have social media. Lana said they didn't even get much traction. I guess they couldn't tell if there was anything...romantic between us from that one picture."

I think I meant it as a joke, but even I could hear the added question in my words.

"Did you want there to be?" He asks softly.

My head snaps up, "Was that not obvious?"

"Not to me. Ava, I wanted to keep talking to you. Again, I'm the selfish one here. You left my trailer that day, you called it off. You have no idea how many times I wanted to say fuck it all and come over to you on set anyway, but I was trying to respect your wishes. It seemed like it wasn't really affecting you, and then I saw you out with that guy..."

"Wasn't affecting me? Javi, I hid in the wardrobe trailer every day for a week just so I didn't have to see you. It was too painful."

His eyes light up and he walks a few steps closer to me. But then they grow serious.

"I won't have this affect your career."

I reach out, grabbing his hand and pulling him the remaining couple of feet toward me. "I don't want to jeopardize yours either...but for now, can we at least admit that we don't want it to be over?"

"I don't want it to be. But your future–"

I place my hand on the back of his neck, pulling just a little. "I thought I told you I didn't want a gentleman."

He looks from my eyes down to my lips. He slowly bends his head, his lips centimeters from mine. "You might have to get used to it, baby," he whispers.

I wrap a second hand around his neck, crashing my lips into his. I can feel his mustache against my skin, and the mixture of its prickles with his soft lips drives me crazy. His hands find my butt through my robe, and I gasp as he squeezes roughly. Instinctively, I hoist my left leg up and around him, pulling him in closer. One of his hands leaves my backside to cup my thigh that's now holding him in place.

Javi suddenly pulls back, only to then attach himself to my neck, kissing hot, open-mouthed affections from my collarbone up to my ear. As I toss my head back to give him more access, I remember that I'm still pressed against the open window. Running my hand through his hair, I decide to tease him a little.

"You do realize that all those Italians you were worried about can probably see what you're doing to me, right?"

Javi tugs on my earlobe with his teeth before answering, sending a shiver through me. "I haven't forgotten. But if I don't keep you right here," another kiss on my neck, "then I'm going to move you to one of those beds and fuck you until the sun comes up. And I can't have that tonight."

My heart pounds at his words, and my hands tug further on his hair.

"W-why not?" I gasp as he pulls down the robe just enough to kiss my shoulder.

Begrudgingly to us both, he pulls back. Placing his forehead on mine, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

"Not like this," he shakes his head, "I want your head to be clear. I want you to be sure about this. And what it means for your future."

"Believe me," I pull him closer with my leg, "I'm sure."

He half-chuckles, half-groans, pulling away from me. "You're sure you want to come, Ava. I want you to be sure about us ."

My face flushes at his words.

"I... can't it be both?" I try.

He fully chuckles now. "You are going to kill me." He turns around, walking to my suitcase on the floor. He takes out a t-shirt and some sleep shorts, handing them to me with a kiss on the cheek. "For me, please? You're tempting enough as is, without the robe and the—" he gestures to my leg that had been wrapped around him moments before.

I purse my lips, mulling it over.

"Fine. You won this round, Gutierrez." I debate changing in front of the window, but I can see the confusion and frustration written all over his face, and I don't want to make this any worse for him. I push past him gently to get into the bathroom.

"Believe me," I hear him mutter, "No I didn't."

After I change, I return to see Javi sitting on the end of one of the beds. He's facing the window, curtains still pulled back. He didn't hear me leave the bathroom, so I take a moment to admire the view. His back, a few muscles peeking out from beneath his crisp white shirt. His neck, slightly rigid, focused on gazing out of the window. His hair, tousled from the way I was tugging it just a moment ago. That thought fills me with an almost possessive warmth.

I gently climb onto the bed, not wanting to disturb him. I slowly pad across it on my knees, before gingerly wrapping my arms around him from behind. I feel one of his large hands come up to caress my arm, and it makes me smile to myself.

"Five hours," he says softly.

"Hmm?" I close my eyes, trying to savor how good it feels to have my arms around him.

"We have to be up in only five hours."

"Well, I have to. You don't." I smirk.

"That doesn't seem fair..." he continues to caress my arms as we both look out the window at the sparkling lights.

His hand stills for a moment.

"It would save time if you only had to wake up Jack tomorrow," he muses. "If I stay here...with you, you might not have to get up as early." I feel his breathing pause as he waits for my reaction, and it makes my heart want to burst.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

[stiles-o-dylan24]

You Calm My Chaos Chapter 1 - Always and Forever

Author: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​  Pairing: Klaus x Rosie (eventually) Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: language, canon violence, mentions of needles, blood, pregnancy, hints of unwanted pregnancy, A/N: officially in the originals episodes, let's do this! This episode was really just an extended version of what happened in the TVD episode so I'm sorry it's short! SERIES SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

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After Elijah leaves to go and talk to Klaus, more of the witches from her coven show up in the Mausoleum with us to talk to Sophie. 

“Marcel and his vampires are out of control– something has to be done” Sophie tells the others and Agnes scoffs lightly “And the solution is to bring in more vampires?”

“These aren’t just any vampires, Agnes. They’re the Originals.”

Agnes shakes her head at her and continues “What makes you think you can control the hybrid?”

“She can’t” Elijah’s voice says from behind us all of a sudden and we all turn around to look at him while he continues “I’m not entirely certain that I can, either,” he walks closer towards Sophie “But now that your coven has drawn his ire, I have a question– what prevents my brother from murdering you instead of cooperating?”

Sophie makes a face and reaches over to grab a needle, lifting it up to show Elijah. She sticks the needle into her hand and I immediately gasp, lifting up my hand and seeing the blood appearing on my hand “Ow!”

Elijah looks over at me, his eyes taking in the blood on my hand and I glare over at her “What the hell is this?”

Sophie forces a smile and explains “The spell my sister performed, the one that got her killed? It didn’t just confirm the pregnancy. It linked me to Rosemary– so anything that happens to me, happens to her, which means her life is in my hands. Klaus may have made his decision that her and this baby don’t actually mean to him what we thought they did, however it’s very clear what they already mean to you. If I have to hurt Rosemary– or worse– to ensure that I have your attention, I will.”

Elijah looks over at me, slightly amused before he directs his words towards her “You would dare threaten an Original?”

“I have nothing to lose” Sophie shrugs, shaking her head like she fully believes those words to be true “You have until midnight to get Klaus to change his mind.”

Elijah walks over to me and pulls me off to the side, holding his hand up towards one of the witches who wants to argue this “I just need a moment to speak with her.”

They back off and I cross my arms over my chest, trying to breathe out all of my nervousness and Elijah softens his face “I cannot excuse his behavior but I want to ensure you know that he is acting out, letting his anger take control because he is scared– this has nothing to do with you.”

I nod my head softly, shrugging my shoulders “I mean it has a little to do with me.”

“The most happiness I’ve seen from Niklaus has been since he’s known you– there’s peace in his eyes when he looks at you,” Elijah says and I slowly look up at him, watching as he softens his face and continues “I saw it that first night at the ball and I saw it even more in his eyes just now before he shut you out– he wants this... he wants this with you.”

I’m not sure exactly what to say to that because I saw the same thing tonight, there was a moment where he was looking at my stomach and the look in his eyes was something I have never seen before. I also watched his walls go up before he so easily threw me away– which stung and even if Elijah can convince him that he does actually want this... I don’t know how ‘in this’ I will be with him. 

⋇・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・⋇

Midnight comes entirely too quickly for my liking and Agnes is all too happy to point that out “His time is up– what’re you gonna do now, Sophie?”

“I’m gonna do what I said I was gonna do” Sophie answers and I sit up a little straighter, looking over at Sabine when she says “What, kill the girl? Kill yourself?”

“Klaus does not care about the child” Agnes states and Elijah’s voice thankfully chimes in “I do.”

Elijah walks into the mausoleum and he’s carrying a body wrapped in a blanket, continuing to direct his words to Sophie “And I bring in proof of my intent to help you– the body of your fallen friend, which I procured from Marcel himself.”

“Jane-Anne” Sophie mutters and Elijah nods his head, the look on his face genuine “May she be granted peace. Klaus will agree to your terms. I just need a little more time.”

“You had your time– it’s passed” Agnes remarks angrily and Sophie turns to her “Shut up, Agnes!”

Elijah looks between them, his eyes flashing over to me for a moment before he looks back at Sophie “For now, accept the deal– Rose and the child remain unharmed, or Klaus will kill you all,” he starts to walk away, nodding once at me before he turns around again “And I will help him.”

Once Elijah has left the witches start to prepare to lay Jane-Anne’s body to rest. Her body is clad in white and they lay her down, surrounding her body with flowers before Sophie starts to perform rituals around her sister’s body. 

I feel like I really shouldn’t be here, however, I can’t stop watching what the coven is doing to lay Jane-Anne’s soul to rest. There is sadness to everything they’re doing but there is also a beauty to it all. It’s very peaceful and comforting to see.

Sophie kisses her fingers and presses them to her sister’s forehead, holding her fingers there for a few more moments before everyone is silent.

Elijah arrives a little while later and he has a triumphant look on his face when he stops in front of Sophie, the rest of her coven standing behind her. 

“Klaus has agreed to your terms and says that you have yourself a deal.”

✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆⋇⋆✦

After my graduation and saying my see you later, if I'm ever able to leave New Orleans again, to everyone in Mystic Falls, Elijah drives us to a massive white house outside of the city.

He rounds the middle of the circle driveway and parks in front of the house. I lean forward to look out the windshield at the house at the same time I open my passenger door. Elijah moves to stand in the open door and holds his hand out to help me out of the car.

I set my hand in his and while I stand up out of the car I look up at the house and raise my brows towards him, asking slowly “So who lives here exactly?”

He just smiles and nods his head towards the house, stating simply “You do.”

With that revelation we walk inside and I slowly look around, shaking my head at the expanse of the inside “Umm, I don't think–”

“This way, Rose” Elijah interrupts and has me follow him up the stairs. On the way I notice how every piece of furniture in every room is covered with white sheets and I can't help but wonder who used to live here.

Elijah leads me into one room in particular and indicates I should pull off one of the sheets. I do as he silently directs and immediately start coughing from all the dust that is disturbed from the sheet. I move my hand over my mouth and cough again while I look at the crib that the sheet was previously covering. 

Elijah looks over in concern, asking “Are you alright?” and I cough again, waving him off “It's just dust– when's the last time anyone was here? This place feels ancient”

Elijah smiles softly, nodding his head as he looks around the room “Yes, it's been quite some time, however, it should serve our purposes," he looks at me again, continuing "It’s a sanctuary from our business in the Quarter. Right now, you are the most important person in this family, Rose and you need a good home.” 

I quickly look back at him with his words and he slightly tilts his head to the side “Forgive me but I’m curious… in all this time, has anyone asked you how you feel?”

“About having some miracle baby with my psychotic soulmate?” I try to joke, Klaus' conversation with me the other night not really making me feel better about the whole thing... even if he did seem genuine in his apology. I told him I needed to think everything over about this while I went to my graduation... however, the past two days didn't really give me any more clarity.

Elijah barely smiles, correcting what he truly was asking “About being a mother.”

Silently I breathe out deeply, looking down for a moment before I look up at him again “Klaus actually asked if this would be something I wanted once”

“He did?” Elijah asks and I chuckle softly “Yeah, it was brought up when I asked him if he would ever want the cure so he could have kids of his own– wasn’t aware he had his own loophole on that topic but anyways” I shake my head, looking back at him “I was abandoned as a baby, did you know that?”

Elijah shakes his head and I nod slowly, continuing “I was brought to my dad’s doctor office by some firefighters–" I chuckle sadly, admitting "Or well, that's what I've been told followed by there isn't anything else my parents knew about me... not even the day I was actually born." I clear my throat and continue "I had amazing parents– the perfect family for the next sixteen years until they died but I have always been terrified I would never be able to live up to how good of a mom she was, even more so now that she's gone and she wouldn't be here to help me do this–" I pause, feeling the ever present wave of hormones hitting me and making me want to cry even more than usual.

I sniffle and cross my arms over my chest, trying to keep my voice strong while I look at him again and tell him honestly "So to answer your question… I really don’t know how to feel about becoming a mother because I never thought I would be one. I have never actually thought I would be a good mom and ever since I’ve been told I have this baby growing inside of me I have this terrible feeling in my gut that I’m going to fail this baby– that I’m not going to be able to protect them from everything bad in our lives, including me.”

“That’s exactly why you’re going to be an amazing mother, sweet Rose” he says and my brow twitches with his words, the wave of tears threatening to move even stronger. Elijah smiles softly and continues “I will be here to help you through motherhood every step of the way. Like it or not you have me as a brother now," I chuckle gratefully with his words, reaching up to wipe under my eyes and he smiles, continuing "And I will always protect you, Rose– you have my word on that.”

“And noble Elijah always keeps his word” Klaus’ voice interrupts our bonding moment and we look over at the doorway. Klaus is leaning against the doorframe, smiling hesitantly towards me.

I spin away from his soft eyes and hesitant smile, walking towards another sheet to pull off and revealing a dresser underneath.

“Is it done?” Elijah asks and I look over my shoulder at them, watching as Klaus nods and slowly looks away from me to look at his brother “As a matter of fact, yes– your underhanded deal worked quite well. Marcel was only too happy to accept my blood even as he accepted my heartfelt apologies. His man, Thierry, yet lives and I remain a welcome guest in the French Quarter. My only concern now is this coven of impudent witches.”

“I believe them to be honorable” Elijah says, lifting his hand out to indicate towards me while he continues “They did release Rose to me, although they haven’t been entirely forthcoming. Marcel obviously has something they need– they don’t want him dead and there must be a reason why.”

"Yes, well–" Klaus nods, looking at me quickly before looking back at Elijah "We will figure it out easy enough."

Elijah looks between us and makes a noise, offering "I will grab your bags from the car–"

"Oh I can do that" I interject, however, he's already moving towards the door "Not in your condition– I have them."

"My condition?" I scoff "It's two duffle bags Elijah" I grumble unhappily that he's already leaving me alone and watch through the railing as he waves me off and descends the stairs.

When I look over at Klaus again I see that he's brave enough to smirk towards me, teasing "Afraid to be alone with me, love?"

I glare at him, setting my hands on my hips "You really think this boils down to me just not wanting to be alone with you?" I say and his smirking face falters a bit while he admits "No, I imagine there's a bit more to it than that."

I laugh once with no humor behind it and look away from him, my eyes settling on the crib once more "It's been two days, I'm sorry but I need more time."

Klaus steps further into the room and leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest "I told you to take all the time you needed, love and I meant it," he pauses and I slowly look over at him, seeing him smile sadly before he continues "I need you to stay in this house and make sure you never leave or ever go into the Quarter" I make a noise, however, he doesn't let me say anything while he finishes with "And you cannot tell anyone, even Caroline or Elena that you're here."

"What?" I draw my brows together harshly, scoffing in the back of my throat "You want me to stay here alone? For nine months? Without telling my family? Are you insane?"

"For the time being yes I need you to do this" he corrects, keeping his unwavering eyes connected to mine while he informs "It's not safe for you in the Quarter and you won't be alone in the house all the time– I will be staying here with you–" he pauses, continuing on a little nervously "If you'll have me that is."

"It's your house" I remark with just a hint of sarcasm and he tilts his head to the side "This is your home now, Rosie– if you want it to be."

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Please do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is property of @stiles-o-dylan24​. Also posted on wattpad under the same username and ao3 under stilesodylan24. These characters aren’t mine but this fanfiction is.     These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.     No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted: 11 September 2023

[fayes-fics]

Breaking & Fixing: the Benophie remix

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

Summary: Benedict’s wife likes to fix things (and break them)

Warnings: none... domestic married fluff and some humour.

Word count: 0.6k

Author's note: Bit nervous to post this tbh. A friend suggested I try remixing one of my fics into a Benophie fic, as an experiment in a different style of writing. This one felt like a good, fluffy place to try it out and appropriate to Sophie's story. I won't be tagging on this, as it’s different from my usual stuff. I hope my regular followers don’t mind this slight change of pace. I will, of course, continue with my x reader fics. Enjoy! <3

“What are you doing?” Benedict huffs a laugh as he enters the room.

“I'm trying to fix the hinge on this window,“ Sophie responds, standing somewhat precariously on a window sill a few feet off the ground, waving a little can of oil she holds as she speaks.

“Oh darling, I love you, but no,” he chuckles even louder.

“Why not?” she puffs a strand of loose hair away from her eye and shoots him a pout over her shoulder, which he deems utterly adorable. “It's squeaking in the wind, and it's really annoying.” 

“Get down from there,” his tone is sweet, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

He holds out a hand. Sophie sighs and reluctantly takes it as his other arm wraps around her waist, effortlessly lowering her to the ground.

“We have staff, my darling. It is literally their job to do this sort of thing,” he fusses, taking the can from her hand and shaking his head, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“I didn't want to bother them,” she dismisses with a shrug. “I am a capable woman; I used to be the staff, after all, husband,” she says with a tinge of indignancy.

“Oh, I know, my love,” he affirms, “and it pains me to think of you being required to do any such things. At least give yourself the luxury of choosing not to do so now,” his voice soft with empathy. 

Sophie tilts her head up to look at Benedict, to let him know she appreciates his concern for her, and his other arm wraps around her waist on instinct, the need to draw her close as natural as breathing.

“And, besides, I know just how capable you are, my darling wife,” he continues with a teasing lilt. “I saw you fixing the wheel on our carriage last week when you thought no one was looking.”

“You saw that?” she giggles, reaching up and looping her hands around his neck.

“I came damn close to breaking the thing again that night, just so I could watch you fix it all over,” he confesses. “It was very appealing,” he whispers against her hairline, revelling in the shiver he feels running down her spine as he does so.

“You like that about me?” she murmurs, burying her face into his neck and enjoying his scent.

“I like everything about you. Particularly how competent you are at so many things,” Benedict confides, running his hands up and down her back in delicate patterns.

Sophie raises her head and shoots him an impish grin. “How about we go fixing and breaking some other things?” 

“You know, your eyes sparkle with amusement when you have an idea you like, and it always makes me both excited and a little apprehensive,” he flashes a crooked smile. “So what were you thinking?” he adds, knowing he will always aid and abet her schemes no matter how harebrained they may be; such is the price of love.

“Well, there's a fascinating piece of machinery in Mr Crabtrees' shed that’s in bits and pieces; it looks like it could use a fix,” her tone exuberant as she detangles from his embrace and takes off out of the room. Benedict stands there shaking his head affectionately before going to follow, just as Sophie swings back around the doorframe, catching him unawares. 

“Then I was thinking maybe we could try breaking our bed, husband,” she rejoinders casually, giving him a salacious wink.

She watches gleefully for a moment as Benedict’s mind short circuits before skipping away happily towards the garden shed.

There’s a pause then he calls out after her loudly, “Wait, did you break our carriage just so you could fix it?… Wife?… Wife?”