#cannot change this🫶🫶🫶
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qulizalfos · 10 months ago
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im sorry if i dont reply to ur lovely comments btw!!!!<3 when someone says they like something ive created my brain short circuits and i need 3-7 business days to process
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anonbinaryweirdo · 9 months ago
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if this account is still active by college expect updates about my situationship (my rivals/enemies to lovers girlfriend i made up in my head weeks ago)
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applejongho · 11 months ago
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getting a haircut tomorrow and resisting the urge to cut my hair rly short to look like hj I'm fine and normal 👍🫶🤘
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(ponytail + undercut)
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froqpi-art · 1 year ago
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whenever i have artblock i draw my ocs 🫶
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quixot1sm · 6 months ago
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Hear me out: N and Hilbert going back to the ferris wheel with their kid
this is very very sweet (and i most certainly will be doodling something about this at some point) but i think, when their kid's grown enough to ask why they're so sentimental about the old thing, the following conversation would be pretty funny to overhear. well this is where your father rejected me<3
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noxtivagus · 2 years ago
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i screamed.
#🌙.rambles#[ ffxiv. ]#i forgot abt the manga for a bit. GOT NERVOUS TO READ BCS I'LL GO. HDFKLASJDFLKSJDFLKADSJF YK#( apollo's watching over my shoulder n said to write that i'm ugly. like. artemis is ugly. sobs )#oh my god. i can't read this. i just want to change all my pfps now n. be delusional. daydream. FUCK#EMET-SELCH YOU'RE SO UNFAIR 😭😭#& yotsuyu ma'am you're so pretty pls step on me hahahaha#n then alphi my bb first year he's so adorable i love love love him so much. my bb boy my dearest#AYMERIC YOU'RE SO LOVELY N HAURCHEFANT YOU'RE SO PRECIOUS I'LL CRY#the rest of them too but. rn my brain. is in school mode. i cannot. handle this. rn. oh my god. help#GAIA N RYNE WAHH THEY'RE SO CUTE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 🥹🫶🏼#i'm enjoying this so much but i'm just skimming through to look at stuff#guys i love final fantasy xiv so much.#alphinaud at the end of the second chapter is so me actually#i froze when i saw emet-selch w the book. i have no words. oh my god.#GAIA N YSAYLE INTERACTION MY GIRLS I LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#i have. assignments to do tho lmfaoooo that's enough for now. actually maybe i'll just quickly skim to the end of this chapter#i'm too shy to add more pics bcs. the 4th chapter. BUT. ALPHINAUD SAVING THE LIL KID I'M SO IN LOVE 🥹🥹🥹🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼#alphi n alisaie. i'm emotional. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭😭 alphi's soft smile there though.. i'm. so. in love.#alphi w the kid. alphi n alisaie. hdflaksdjfldk i love alphi so much my dear alphi :c#i want to ramble so much help me. but. SCHOOL. HFDALKDSFJDLKFJ SOBBING BYE#just some snippets from the manga yes. don't mind me
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lighthouseas · 1 year ago
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guys sara @willelfanpage hates redheads real
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rafasbiscuits · 1 month ago
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I hope no one ever breaks their record for anything <3
there will be nothing like the big 3 ever again and i hope it stays that way actually
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lover-of-mine · 1 year ago
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Anyway the desktop update solidified it for me: I am NEVER updating this app.
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softspiderling · 3 months ago
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est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v
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summary:
“What does dear Jace have to say?”
“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
“You could become my niece, if this continues.”
“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”
OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader
warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!
word count: 8,2k
author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.
“Thank you Ser.”
Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.
This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.
You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.
Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.
He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.
“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.
You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.
“To whom?”
“To each other.”
“What?”
“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.
“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.
“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”
Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?
With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.
“What does dear Jace have to say?”
“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
“You could become my niece, if this continues.”
“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”
“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”
You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.
“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.
It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.
It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.
“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.
“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”
It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?
Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.
The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.
“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.
“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”
You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”
Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.
“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”
The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.
“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”
“They are still your kin, Daeron.”
“By blood, yes.”
“Is there any other way to be kin?”
You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.
“Yes. You.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.
“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”
“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.
“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.
“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”
Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.
A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”
“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.
The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.
“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”
Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”
You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.
You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.
Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.
“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.
“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.
“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”
The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.
Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”
The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.
“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”
Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.
“My Lady, if you follow me.”
“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.
“To her chambers, my Prince.”
“She will stay with me.”
“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.
“I shall not meet my mother alone.”
“Daeron-“
“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.
The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.
“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”
You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.
“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”
Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.
“My boy.”
“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.
Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.
“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”
“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.
“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”
You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”
Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”
“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.
“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”
You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”
She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.
“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”
“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”
His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.
“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.
He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.
“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”
That made you pause.
“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.
“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.
“When are they expected to return?”
Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.
“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”
Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.
“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”
It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.
“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.
As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.
Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.
With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.
“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.
The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.
You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.
“Sister!”
Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.
“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.
“I’m fine, Daeron.”
“Daeron.”
You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.
“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”
You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.
“Eavesdropping, are we?”
Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.
“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”
Clearly.
Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.
“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”
Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?
“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”
“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”
The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.
“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”
Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.
“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”
“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.
“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.
“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”
“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”
You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.
“How is my brother faring?”
You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.
“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”
Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.
“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”
What?
“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”
Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.
“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”
He paused, eyeing you carefully.
“You should come.”
“Me?”
Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.
“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”
“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.
You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.
“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.
“Soves, Vhagar!”
With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.
“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.
“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”
The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.
“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”
“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”
“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”
You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.
“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”
A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.
“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”
Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”
Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.
“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“
“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”
“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.
The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.
“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”
Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.
Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.
“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”
“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”
Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.
“What’s your mother’s message?”
Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.
“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”
Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.
“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”
Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.
“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”
Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.
“Wait, my Lord Strong.”
You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.
“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”
Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.
“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”
“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”
He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.
“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”
Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.
“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”
Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”
“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”
“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.
“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”
“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.
“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”
Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.
“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”
“He cannot get away with it, not again.”
Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.
“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”
“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.
Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.
“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.
“I am coming.”
You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.
The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.
“Aemond stop!”
Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.
“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”
“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.
Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.
The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.
“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.
“Saving your life!”
You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.
Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.
“Do you trust me?”
“Not particularly, no!”
You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.
“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”
“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.
“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”
Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.
“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.
Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.
The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.
“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”
Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.
Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.
Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.
For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.
“Are you well?”
Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.
“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.
“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.
“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.
“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”
“Forgive me?”
You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.
“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”
Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.
“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”
Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.
“Yes he would.”
“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”
Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.
“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”
Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”
You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.
“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.
Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.
“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”
Your forehead creased.
Usurp?
“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”
Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”
You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.
“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”
You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.
“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.
“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”
Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.
Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.
Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.
“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.
“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”
Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.
“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”
You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.
You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.
“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”
“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.
“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”
You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.
“Very well.”
The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.
“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.
Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.
“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.
Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.
“Prince Lucerys!”
A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.
“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”
Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”
The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.
“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”
Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.
“Luke!”
“Mother!”
Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.
Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.
“What happened?”
“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”
Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.
You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.
“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.
“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”
Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.
“Mother! Luke!”
You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.
“What are you doing here?”
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??
1K notes · View notes
iamred-iamyellow · 4 months ago
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⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚ Close To You
♥ masterlist
♥ pairing: oscar piastri x lily zneimer x f!singer!webber!reader
♥ synopsis: as the daughter of mark webber you got to know oscar piastri pretty quick and soon enough the two of you were dating. no one had known that you both were also dating lily, leading everyone to believe the leaked pictures of her and Oscar was evidence he was cheating on you. they couldn’t have been more wrong
♥ smau - fc: gracie abrams - none of the pictures are mine
♥ warnings: swearing and hate comments !!!
♥ a/n: my first poly fic! ty to bestie liz and cleo for hyping me up <3
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liked by aussiegrit, oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 656,305 more
y/n.webber channel that sad energy into a song queen
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user8 hope you're doing well 💛
user3 ilyy
user6 pls shes so unserious 😭
user5 that's so real
user9 wait so did her and her boyfriend break up?
user2 I'm pretty sure. everyone's been speculating it and they haven't been seen together in a long time
user1 is she making a new album ???
user10 liv and tay in the likess 🫶
user7 I still can't believe she's mark's daughter omggg
user12 those family genetics 😍
user2 we love you <3
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo, and 583,694 more
y/n.webber cut my hair in the way that i've wanted
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user9 change my number and bury my wallet !!!
user8 augusta <3
user12 LOVE
mclarenf1 we'll see you at the GP
y/n.webber <3
user10 shut up y/n is gonna be there?
user6 I thought she had a concert that day?
user1 @/user6 she has one the night before :)
user5 no bc how is she so pretty
user13 oscar in the likes 👀
user7 GORGEOUS
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liked by y/n.webber, user7, user12 and 502,669 more
f1gossip mark, y/n, and oscar are ready for the australian grand prix
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y/n.webber @/aussiegrit I'm starting to think you like Oscar more than me :(
oscarpiastri he does ❤️
yourusername 🖕
user8 now kiss
user14 enemies to lovers
user4 my favorite australian trio
user1 why'd he have to shave his beard 😔
user9 THE CAT
user2 oscar and mark pookie off
user10 everyone pray for an oscar home race podium
user3 🕯️oscar home race win 🕯️
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liked by oscarpiastri, aussiegrit, and 703,562 more
y/n.webber date night <3
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user7 I love how she doesn't even have to tell us she's dating oscar because we all just know
user9 THEM WATCHING TANGLED 😭🫶
user3 oscar getting her lilies :')
y/n.webber actually I got him lilies
oscarpiastri 🧡
*liked by original poster*
user4 this is the cutest shit I've ever seen
user1 mark in the likesss looks like oscar has the stamp of approval
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liked by y/n.webber, aussiegrit, and 750,683 more
oscarpiastri lando crashed our date
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landonorris I did not "crash" your date I just happened to be there.
oscarpiastri as if you didn't follow us
y/n.webber @/landonorris you LITERALLY crashed into the back of my kart
mclarenf1 lando we talked about your internet stalking problem.
user8 PLEASE 💀
user6 why'd they have to call him out like that 😭
user2 the admins are my favorite part of the f1 cinematic universe
-A Few Months Later-
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liked by aarondessner, taylorswift, and 984,059 more
y/n.webber The Secret Of Us is out now! The songs on this album are a collection of my life these past few months and I’m so excited to share them with you all. Special thank you to @/aarondessner and @/taylorswift I love you both 💛
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user1 I hope she rips oscar to shreds
user7 y/n better than revenge era
user9 !!!
user3 girl you can do so much better than o***r
user12 I'm so ready to scream and cry to this
user2 I cannot believe he cheated on her
user16 out of all the guys on the grid OSCAR?!?!
user11 kitten I'll be honest I'm still not over good riddance 😔
user8 LMAO
user9 so true 😭
user15 hyped af for the taylor collab
user16 the fact that she's the daughter of mark, the man who supported him since day one and he STILL cheated on her is CRAZYY
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liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo, and 985,750 more
y/n.webber throwback to my time at last year's era's tour. I'm so glad to be back 🩷
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taylorswift were so glad to have you <3
*liked by original poster*
oliviarodrigo miss youuu
yourusername I miss you too babes
user9 "and you knew my last love let me down" OSCARRRRAHHH
user7 AND I BET HES AT HER PLACE RIGHT NOW
user10 I'm so excited to see you
user16 he fumbled so hard
user4 we love you <3
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liked by oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, and 1,194,203 more
y/n.webber I understand that, without my agreement, @/f1gossip put out a post a week ago that said Oscar Piastri was cheating on me. This is wrong and I am in a happy relationship with both Oscar and Lily. He did not cheat on me. 
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lilyzneimer I love you 🩷
y/n.webber I love you more
user7 😨
user1 I'm not even sure what to say
user12 I'm so sorry oscar we weren't familiar with your game 😭
user3 I-
user6 in true bi panic fashion
user4 FUCK 😭
user19 everyone say sorry Oscar
user2 sorry oscar
user5 we're sorry Oscar :(
user13 WE DIDN'T KNOW WE SWEAR
user10 sorry Oscar 😔
user21 💖💜💙
user23 the @ is such a boss bitch move
user8 saying sorry to Oscar online isn't enough I need to revoke my statements in a court of law
user7 same
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liked by lilyzneimer, y/n.webber, alexandrasaintmleux and 884,472 more oscarpiastri flowers for my favs 💐
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y/n.webber my loves 🩷
lilyzneimer 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
user7 my favorite throuple
user23 as if you weren't hating on oscar yesterday
user7 and I am deeply ashamed
user12 we said we're sorry :(
user6 yea oscar x lily x y/n are cute but wheres mark x fernando x taylor
user9 as in swift? 😭
user6 yes.
alexandrasaintmleux you three are so cute
y/n.webber <3
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fastandcarlos · 4 months ago
Text
Through The Years : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton
summary: you've been with lewis since day one, and you've got the instagram posts still saved to show just how much you guys have been through over the years
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked ynusername, mercedesamgf1 and 2,419,593 others
lewishamilton: WORLD CHAMPION BABY 🏆🏎️
291,492 comments
username1: always knew you were destined for greatness
username2: congrats champ 🏆
ynusername: pretty cool to say I’m not dating a world champ 💕
lewishamilton: @/ynusername you’re welcome 😂
username3: IM SO PROUD OF YOU LEWIS!!
nicorosberg: I’ll get you next year 😂
kimimatiasraikkonen: amazing season lewis, congratulations 👏🏻
username4: my world champ 🌍🏆
username5: we always knew that you’d get there…first of many 🫶🏻
jensonbutton: nice to see the trophy coming back to british seas 🎉
username6: cannot wait for you to be world champion for the next twenty thousand seasons 🥺
aussiegrit: amazing season, great racing with you this year!!
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and 992,138 others
ynusername: apparently i'm a mercedes girl now, 2012 season incoming and i'm here for it, wishing you all the luck in the world my love
32,103 comments
username7: five years on and I’m still so thankful that lewis has you in his corner yn ❤️
jensonbutton: mercedes is the best team anyway 💙🏎️
username8: it’s taken years but she’s finally convinced 😂
username9: if you ever change your mind I’ll come and be a mercedes girl instead
lewishamilton: thank you for always being my biggest fan my love 💞
ynusername: @/lewishamilton always on your side 😘
username10: another world title pending…
username11: lewis doesn’t need luck, the title is his yn!!
nicorosberg: still can’t believe you’re not wearing my shirt around the paddock 🙄
ynusername: @/nicorosberg last time I checked I wasn’t dating you 🤷🏻‍♀️
username12: this is the level of girlfriend I aspire to be
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 1,982,503 others
lewishamilton: yn said we weren't allowed to have children yet so i went and got the next best thing, introducing roscoe 🐶❤️
148,580 comments
username13: omg roscoe is just the cutest 😭😭
ynusername: I already deal with a child every day living with you 😂😂
lewishamilton: @/ynusername stop exposing me like this!!
schecoperez: can’t wait to meet roscoe at the paddock soon!
username14: proudest dog dad ever!
username15: can I also be adopted by lewis and yn like roscoe please???
aussiegrit: how much are you paying poor yn to dogsit during race weekends 🤔
lewishamilton: @/aussiegrit she’s paid in love and affection don’t you worry 😂
username16: YET…there’s hope for the future still!!
valtteribottas: how have you adopted a dog and only just told me now? 😡
username17: roscoe is already my best friend and no one else’s
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by maxverstappen1, valtteribottas and 3,491,508 others
lewishamilton: still just as sweet to win all these years on, thank you mercedes fans for your continued support
104,592 comments
username18: true legend of formula 1 🤩
valtteribottas: congratulations, so proud to be your teammate 🏎️
username19: a decade on and still your number one fan!!
maxverstappen1: let someone else have a win for one will you? 😂
ynusername: and I’m still just as proud to see you on the podium as I was all those years ago 💕💕
username20: it’s unfair how talented one man can be 😭
username21: just tell us your secrets pls 😂
username22: all the other drivers wishing that they could be as talented as you!!
kimimatiasraikkonen: couldn’t think of a better guy to be p2 behind ��️
danielricciardo: can you just retire already and leave us alone??
lewishamilton: @/danielricciardo: you’re stuck with me a little while longer yet
username23: no one else will ever compare to you…
hulkhulkenberg: teach me how to overtake like you 🙏🏻
username24: I’m not prepared for the day we experience f1 without this man 😭
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 859,182 others
ynusername: oh yeah...did i mention that i have a husband now?? 🥺
47,620 comments
username25: my two favourite people in the world are married…I can’t cope 😭
danielricciardo: congratulations, couldn’t be happier for the two of you 🥂
valtteribottas: we had the best time celebrating you guys ❤️
username26: how did they manage to get married and keep it an entire secret from the world???
username27: I want to see all the photos asap
landonorris: okay and my invite was where exactly??
ynusername: @/landonorris whoops must’ve got lost in the post somewhere 🤷🏻‍♀️
username28: the ultimate boyfriend material just became ultimate husband material
charles_leclerc: couldn’t have happened to two nicer people 🫶🏻
username29: my heart just skipped a beat with pure happiness for this 🥺
lewishamilton: have I mentioned how proud I am to be your husband? 💞
ynusername: @/lewishamilton I bet not as proud as I am to be your wife!
username30: why do I feel like I’ve been betrayed by not being told this news sooner??
georgerussell63: fyi best wedding I’ve ever been too!!
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 2,492,608 others
lewishamilton: our greatest blessing is yet to come, yn and i are so happy to share that we are expecting our very own little one just before christmas...i could not be any happier as we start this new chapter ❤️❤️❤️
149,528 comments
landonorris: ah I’m so happy for you two!!
username31: omg this is just the best news ever!!
username32: my two faves are having a baby 🤯
schecoperez: I’ll make sure to pass all my tips onto you 😂
lewishamilton: @/schecoperez I’ll be needing all of them
username33: I’ve never been happier then I am right now 😭
ynusername: I can’t wait for this next adventure with you 💕
lewishamilton: @/ynusername no one else I’d rather do this with!!
charles_leclerc: cannot wait to meet your little one at the paddock soon!
jensonbutton: being a parent is the best feeling in the world ❤️
username34: I’ve waited so long to see this post and now it’s finally happening 🎉
username35: nobody speak to me for the next nine months
valtteribottas: uncle duties pending…
username36: they’re going to be the best parents I can already tell
carlossainz55: I know how much this means to you two…congratulations!
username37: THIS IS EVERYTHING 🥺
nicorosberg: simply couldn’t be happier, the biggest congratulations 👏🏻
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux and 729,501 others
ynusername: the best daddy i could ever dream of our little girl having, on cloud nine right now ⛅️
33,495 comments
lewishamilton: thank you for giving me the greatest gift ever 💞💞
username38: dad lewis is just something else 😭
carmenmmundt: I can’t wait for all the cuddles asap!!!!
ynusername: @/carmenmmundt I cannot wait to introduce you as soon as were at a race 😭
username39: my heart can’t cope with how adorable these photos are
georgerussell63: well these are just a little bit cute eh??
username40: thank you yn for blessing my timeline like this
username41: it’s not fair how one baby can be so cute 🤩
landonorris: this kid is too cute to be lewis’ surely 😂😂
username42: you can just tell she’s already got lewis wrapped right around her finger 😂
charles_leclerc: stop rubbing it in how cute your daughter is 😂
username43: ultimate daddy’s girl right here 🥺🥺
sebastianvettel: these photos are adorable yn, so happy for you guys!
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
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liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 1,492,043 others
lewishamilton: everything in life i do for these guys, everything i've ever wanted and more
42,291 comments
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
1K notes · View notes
20-th-centurygirl · 5 months ago
Text
celebrity crush
jude bellingham x fem!reader
summary: jude's very public attempts at bagging his celebrity crush
faceclaim: imaan hammam bc i'm obsessed with her
navigation masterlist
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
twitter:
user: jude saying y/n is his celebrity crush is so real
user: y/n could do so much better than a footballer icl
user: y/n's my celebrity crush too it's ok jude
user: where did he say y/n was his celebrity crush?
user: england interview
yourusername
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liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham and 5,972,438 others
workin'
view all 600,925 comments
user: jude in the likes 👀
user: he likes every single post
user: bet he's got notifications on
user: she's so pretty
user: i don't blame jude one bit
yourusername added to their story
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↳ judebellingham: you're beautiful
↳ yourusername: thanks
judebellingham
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liked by jobebellingham, trentarnold66 and 3,279,684 others
view all 492,681 comments
user: jude posted the last pic for y/n
judebellingham liked this comment
user: some player
user: the comment that jude liked? hello??
user: he's so fine
user: jude and y/n would be so hot together
yourusername
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liked by judebellingham, bellahadid and 5,007,942 others
🫧🦩🎀🪩
view all 800,455 comments
judebellingham: 😍😍
bellahadid: beautiful girl !
yourusername: no you !!
user: she's so mother
user: i want to be her when i grow up (i'm older than her)
user: frr i cannot believe she's 20
user: no cause her and jude are both so mature ?
user: not her ignoring jude's comment 😭😭
user: queen knows her worth
yourusername started following judebellingham
twitter:
user: y/n's following jude?!
user: i bet he's screaming rn
user: jude x y/n it's on
user: i hope they date soo bad
judebellingham added to their story
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↳ yourusername: i like that song
↳ judebellingham: we've got something in common then 😉
↳ yourusername: i'm not cocky
↳ judebellingham: oh
judebellingham added to their story
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↳ yourusername: maybe i'm starting to change my mind about you 🤭
↳ judebellingham: oh yeah?
↳ yourusername: maybeee
yourusername
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liked by judebellingham, kaiagerber and 6,208,792 others
🇪🇸❤️
view all 986,743 comments
user: she's in madrid 👀👀
judebellingham: if you need a tour guide just let me know 😉
yourusername: maybe i'll have to take you up on that offer sometime
user: HELLO? THEIR COMMENTS
user: omg it's happening
user: JUDE AND Y/N JUDE AND Y/N
judebellingham: hi
judebellingham: since you're in madrid i was wondering if you wanted to come to one of my games? i can sort you tickets
yourusername: you're very full of yourself sometimes bellingham
judebellingham: sorry i didn't mean it like that. i just thought you might want to because you like football
yourusername: i'm joking
yourusername: i'd love to jude
judebellingham: really??
yourusername: yes 🫶🏾
yourusername added to their story
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twitter:
user: Y/N IS AT A MADRID GAME THIS IS NOT A DRILL ‼️
user: OMG
user: i can't believe he actually pulled her
judebellingham
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liked by yourusername, jobebellingham and 9,815,784 others
CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE
view all 2,619,583 comments
yourusername: well done 🤍
judebellingham: thank you 🫶🏾
jobebellingham: some guy
user: Y/N AND JUDE ‼️
user: y/n and jude are endgame
yourusername
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liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham and 4,896,752 others
lately 🌻🌷🪻
view all 300,826 comments
judebellingham: i like those flowers
yourusername: thanks
user: did jude buy her those flowers??
user: she's so beautiful
judebellingham liked this comment
judebellingham
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liked by yourusername,trentarnold66 and 8,715,968 others
everybody's wearing skims
view all 2,375,981 comments
yourusername: 🤤🤤
judebellingham: you can see me like this whenever you want
user: Y/N'S COMMENT
user: AND JUDE'S REPLY
user: they're the it couple
judebellingham liked this comment
yourusername
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liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham and 6,106 984 others
summer lovin
view all 3,206,498 comments
user: OMGOMGOMG
jobebellingham: love youse
user: what
user: i can't believe he managed to pull her
judebellingham: neither can i
user: parents
judebellingham added to their story
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842 notes · View notes
fayes-fics · 3 months ago
Text
The Secrets We Keep: Pt I
Part II >>
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you…
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Warnings: none yet… fluff and angst. Childhood friends, yearning, arranged marriage, kissing. Pt II will contain a warning/rating change.
Word Count: 5.1k (this part)
Authors Note: Part 1 of 2. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. I won't post your ask yet, as it contains spoilers for the second half. Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. I’m in the process of writing Pt II, so there will be a gap between instalments. Enjoy! 🫶
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-i-
For as long as you can remember, you have loved one man secretly. To the point that you cannot imagine your life without a deep, burning affection simmering in your very core, as fundamental to your existence as drawing air into your lungs.
Benedict Bridgerton.
Your families have been neighbours in Mayfair and Kent for many generations—two aristocratic dynasties that, despite enduring friendships, have never seen intermarriage. There have been attempted matches down the years, according to family lore, but nothing came to fruition. 
So when you were brought to Aubrey Hall as a mere babe in arms, the eldest daughter, there were many good-natured jokes that Anthony’s future wife had been born. But the Viscount, wonderful as he is, was not the man who stole your heart just a few short years later. A bright sunny day in June that you suspect Benedict may not even be able to recall, but you can with perfect clarity, even now, some fifteen years later. 
He picked you as the first person to join his team for a round of garden games. Paying you heed and ensuring you were included, patiently showing you the ropes and applauding your achievements, ignoring the ridicule from the other twelve-year-old boys for letting a girl - and a little five-year-old at that - join in their games. 
Ever since that day, all you have ever seen is his enormous heart and steadfast empathy: always the one to reach out to those excluded, to be supportive, and to love harder and more expansively than his siblings. Thus, unsurprisingly, he became the focus of your singular devotion—a childish adoration transmuting into something more profound and complicated as you matured.
On your fourteenth birthday, your mother gifted you a thick notebook. And it became your refuge, the private canvas on which you outlet your innermost secrets and thoughts. The beautiful but now slightly battered, silk-covered tome is still your most treasured possession even now, more than six years later, so close to filled now, with only a couple of blank pages left. Never long from your hands, but when it must be, carefully stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom. Its pages the reflection of a naive, growing heart. There is one person who features frequently on its crammed, jumbled pages. Sketches of his handsome face, mostly from memory, interspersed with ardent notes and poems that, while they may not mention his name, are written for him. Adoration writ large in every pen and pencil stroke.
Little were you to know that the secrets you keep within its hallowed pages would one day alter the course of your life…
-ii-
It's the evening of the Bridgerton Ball, and usually, you would be brimming with anticipation for such an occasion, a chance to see the man who holds your most ardent admiration. Instead, you find yourself glum, mechanically stepping into the dress your ladies' maid Rachel assists you with, staring blankly into the vanity mirror as she adorns your hair with jewels. Still reeling from your father's shocking announcement the previous day.
The inheritance of a European title had seen him spend eighteen months abroad. In his absence last spring, you were able to persuade your more indulgent mother to delay your societal debut—a yearning to be free in the ways you know no woman really can be for long. A compounding factor was spending the summer in the Highlands with her sister, your Aunt Eliza, a spirited, independent woman who taught you many things and encouraged your artistic whims. And when you were back in London, your mother’s somewhat inattentive running of the house meant you were often able to slip away in the evenings, spending your time deepening your passion for art. Frequenting galleries and conversing with artists led to you being drawn into the bohemian, artsy underbelly of Bloomsbury, a beguiling, exotic contrast to Mayfair. Another secret you keep.
Upon his return to England, your father was not best pleased to learn that not only had you been allowed to skip the previous Season, but Eliza had also taught you to fish, fence and hunt—most unladylike pursuits in his opinion. He, therefore, made it his mission to ensure not only would you debut this year but also a swift match should be made, lest you “get other fanciful, dangerous ideas”.
Perhaps that is why, yesterday, nary two weeks into your first season, he abruptly announced over afternoon tea that he had secured a match for you and the man in question would be dining with you all that evening. A deal no doubt brokered in a private gentleman’s club as if you were merely chattel to be traded.
Revulsion filled your every fibre as you were introduced to Lord Farringdon a few hours later. A wiry man twenty years your senior with a hawk-like countenance and a disdainful disposition. Apparently, a brilliant intellectual mind but accompanied by a mercurial, malevolent reputation. You had read in Whistledown rumours about his mistreatment of his household staff and his previous wife. A forlorn figure who became a recluse long before she died of consumption tragically young. The idea of being betrothed to this cold, abusive man turned your stomach—a seemingly outsized punishment for your rebellion. Once the man left, you had begged and pleaded with your father to reconsider the arrangement, but sadly, your appeal fell on deaf ears. 
And so here you are. Going to a ball at which your father plans to announce your engagement. The stately beauty of Bridgerton House is not as heartening of a sight as it typically is. Tonight, it feels more akin to a gallows.
As soon as you arrive, you are scanning the crowds for the only friend you know will understand just how ghastly your predicament is—Eloise Bridgerton. A kindred spirit whose interest in marriage is as scant as your own. Bonding over your similar yearnings for freedom, you have been good friends since you were little, many a day spent together as children running through the Kentish fields, escaping expectation and flouting convention.
Acutely aware of time running out until your father speaks up, you fiddle distractedly with your fan, impatiently awaiting her entrance.
“For heaven's sake, y/n, please cease your fidgeting!” your mother chastises under her breath, snatching away the item. “I do not see why you are so agitated. Tonight is to be a wonderful occasion for you!”
A myriad of caustic comments are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. The last thing you want is to draw attention, and you certainly don't want to be gossip fodder; these ballrooms are a veritable hotbed of eavesdropping if Whistledown is anything to go by. 
When the collective Bridgerton family finally enter their ballroom as hosts, however, your eyes can't help but drift to Benedict instead. A reflex from years of longing, even though it is his sister,  arm looped into his, whose counsel you seek tonight. You excuse yourself to fetch a lemonade as soon as you spy a window of opportunity—Eloise standing alone, looking excessively bored. Abandoning your glass, you hurry over to her.
“I have news…”  You try to keep your voice neutral but grab her arm and practically drag her away from anyone within earshot.
“Well, it cannot be good if you are willing to rip my arm off to impart it,” she remarks dryly as you lead her down a hallway.
“It is not,” you pull a face that you know will convey to her the gravity of what you need to divulge.
With a nod of understanding and a look to a nearby footman, she leads you beyond him into an area of the house off-limits for guests. 
“Tell me…” her tone is sincere as she ushers you into the library and closes the door.
“My father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me. He is planning to announce it tonight, right here at your family ball!”
She says nothing, only a sympathetic noise as she pulls you into a consoling hug. The emotions you have been tamping down for hours escape as a couple of bitter tears, her arms banding tight around you. You are not sure how long, but you stand in a hug, just grateful for her steadfast support.
“What am I to do?” you whisper.
“I do not know,” she confesses. “Have you tried to reason with your father?”
“A hopeless cause…”  
Her mouth twists in understanding, knowing you will have put up a spirited defence as much as she would have. She detangles from you and goes to a nearby brandy decanter.
“It's the very least you deserve, frankly,” she points out, handing you a glass and pulling you into a loveseat with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, clinking her glass against yours in a silent but bittersweet toast about your seemingly futile situation.
-iii-
Half an hour later, your parents are distracted across the far side of the room with friends when a large hand grabs yours out of the blue. You startle when you realise it is Benedict, your heart suddenly in your mouth. Before you know it, you are wordlessly being pulled out of the French doors behind you and into the night air.
“Where are we going!?” you demand when you recover from the initial surprise, his gloved hand tugging yours along through the darkened gardens. 
“Shh, make haste, we must not be seen,” he hushes you but keeps moving, furtive and fast, your feet having to take extra steps to keep up with his long stride over the lush, dewy grass.
“Benedict…” you try again once you round a thick hedge into the rose garden.  “What is going on?”
He slows a little but does not relinquish his tight hold. Gravel path now crunching under his boots as the honeyed scent of damask hangs heavy in the air. 
“Eloise told me,” is all he offers. “So we are escaping.”
“W-we are?” you stutter, frowning, a claggy tumult behind your ribs at his use of ‘we’. 
“Yes! Or at least we would be if you would keep quiet… please…” he amends, sounding a touch contrite about his initial brusqueness, but speeding up again, headed straight for a small wooden door in a high stone wall, almost hidden behind long, draping ropes of ivy, glowing silver in the moonlight.
When you reach it, he releases his grip on your hand and shoulders the door open with considerable force. The weathered wood creaks loudly, almost splintering under the duress. He signals to the inky blackness of the deserted mews behind Bridgerton House.
“It is now or never, y/n,” he warns as you look back at the house, lit up with the life of the ball inside. “So what is your choice?”
He may be presenting it as an option, but really, you know there would only ever be one answer. You would accompany him to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. And so wordlessly, you step through the doorway and into the narrow street beyond.
“Good choice,” he compliments as he follows suit and closes the door behind him. “You may stay at my friend Granville’s tonight,” he offers sagely, “I have not seen him in a while, but I will explain when we arrive; I am certain he can provide shelter.”
“Benedict, I already know Henry… Quite well, in fact.”
He looks taken aback as if it had not occurred to him that you may move in the same clandestine circles as he does. To be fair, you have always been discreet in your outings, and it’s not something you have divulged to anyone, including Eloise. Still, what confounds you more is why he is suddenly so seemingly invested in seeing you escape from your predicament. It doesn't entirely make sense.
“Well, then,” he cuts into your brief reverie, “you know Henry is a generous host and discreet about the affairs of others. Your father will not come looking for you there. It will buy some time to figure out what to do next. To ensure your freedom.”
“Freedom?” You scoff. “Benedict, as much as I may wish it, there is no other path open to me. Tonight is merely a delay tactic at best. The only way to stop my father’s pursuit of this union is if I marry another….”
The admittance of this truth out loud makes you restless, belatedly realising that it truly is your only way out. You stalk towards the main road, the faint glow of the street lamp guiding your way over the cobbles. You soon hear Benedict’s footsteps behind.
“That is ridiculous!” he exclaims as he attempts to catch up with you. “There are other options available to you…”
“Such as?” you whip around, raising your hands, countering his assertion. When he falters, you return to walking, throwing a tart addition over your shoulder: “Unlike you, a man, I do not have the freedom of choice.” 
“You should always have a choice…” he counters earnestly, still catching up to your furious pace.
“Should and do are different things, Benedict. You do not even know how lucky you are!” You add bitterly, rounding onto the main street.
A gust of wind causes you to pause and a shiver to run down your arms, your gauzy dress not enough to ward off the unseasonable chill in the air tonight. Ever the observant gentleman, Benedict shucks his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Uncharitably, your ire makes you attempt to shake it off, even while knowing it is intended purely as a chivalrous gesture. You are surprised when he seems to grasp your shoulders tighter, holding the heavy velvet in place. It is cloaked in his woodsy, citrus scent, your vexed state turning into an entirely different type of flush as he crowds closer to you.
“My birth has allowed me certain privileges, I concede,” he replies, his stare seemingly far away as you are unable to look anywhere but the dampness of his bottom lip, shimmering slightly in the lamplight. Then he tilts his head down to meet your eyes. “But that does not mean I am able to have everything I wish for in life, y/n…”
Your tongue burns to ask what it is that he wants but cannot have, yet you do not allow yourself to pry. But seeing the wistfulness in his gaze deflates your irritation, your long-held adoration for this man taking over, making you sigh.
‘You deserve the world, Benedict….’
His face morphs into one of breathtaking intensity, and you realise, horrified, you spoke those thoughts aloud. 
“As do you, y/n,” he murmurs, eyes sincere, your heart beating wildly as his chest vibrates against your own. 
The upheaval of the last day, the man you secretly adore abetting a somewhat daring escape, your heated exchange of words, the lateness of the hour, and the feel of his tall, lithe body pressed against yours…. It's all a dangerous cocktail that culminates in you being utterly impetuous, pushing up onto your tiptoes and mashing your mouth against his with no thought.
His lips are plush and warm, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. It's like a cannon firing in your chest as his warm mouth opens yours. Suddenly, you are urgently taking from each other. A sweeping tidal wave through you obliterates any kissing experiences you have ever had before. It’s a desperate slide of tongues, a passionate continuation of your sparring. His hands are like a hot brand through your thin dress as they sweep around to your back, tugging you into him, his heat, scent and taste overwhelming.
But all too soon you are pulling apart, a need for air in your lungs overriding the spontaneous, reckless moment. For a few seconds, you stare at each other, breathing each other's panted air, hands still grasping onto each other, almost confused by what just occurred… until the whinny of a passing horse carriage has you springing apart as if burned. 
Realisation engulfs his entire being. “Oh god! Please, please forgive me!” he stutters, backing away, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, almost tripping in his haste to put space between you, even though it was you who kissed him. “Please, just go to Granville,” he counsels rapidly before turning heel and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, unmoored and breathless, utterly turned upside down.
-iv-
You drift home in a daze, your family’s London residence only a few hundred yards away. Your escape plans are forgotten in the haze of tumbling thoughts about that blistering kiss. How fervently and immediately Benedict had kissed you back, how wonderful it felt to be caged in his arms….  Climbing into bed and passing out, still bewildered. In fact, it’s only the rude awakening of your bedroom door slamming open the following morning that brings you crashing back to your senses.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Your father roars, holding aloft what looks like the latest copy of Whistledown. “You have brought shame upon our family and likely ruination to your prospects!!”
Utterly alarmed, you sit bolt upright, blinking, taking a few moments before you can find your voice. “What are you referring to, father?”.
He glares at you, then throws the paper onto your bed and stalks out of the room without another word, puce with outrage. You know there will be crossed words at the breakfast table. The sight of your name on the crisp ivory page immediately draws your eye, and your stomach plunges as you read the paragraph:
The annual Bridgerton Ball last night was, once again, resplendent. A triumph that the dowager Countess can be rightfully proud of. Although less contentment could likely be gleaned from the behaviour of her offspring. The second eldest of whom was allegedly seen escaping into the unlit gardens hand in hand with none other than the most reluctant of this season's debutantes, the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. Perhaps the rebellious Miss will not have to endure many more of society’s events that she so patently abhors, should a proposal from the most wayward of Bridgerton sons be forthcoming? I, for one, however, Dear Reader, am not holding my breath…
Hiding in your room as long as you can, hunger drives you to join the frosty lunch table, apologising for inadvertently ruining your father’s plans to announce your betrothal and meekly explaining the incident with Benedict as a complete misunderstanding. It was merely an old friend helping you to gather some air before the big news was to be proclaimed. His taking your hand was out of benevolent concern, nothing more, and when you suddenly felt unwell, he chivalrously saw you the few hundred yards home. The lies feel odd on your tongue, your thoughts only of Benedict’s mouth and body moulded hotly to yours as your father lectures about appropriate behaviour for a young lady and your family’s long-standing friendship with the Bridgertons not being an excuse for a lackadaisical attitude to impropriety.
“There is nothing else to be done now—I must secure you a special licence to be wed tomorrow before Lord Farringdon hears about this,” he decrees with finality, his tone brokering no argument.
You slump silently into your chair, dread creeping through every cell, silently chastising yourself for not following Benedict’s advice and running away. If only you hadn't been impetuous and kissed him, you might have been in your right mind to do so. It feels cruel that the one moment you chose to throw caution to the wind is the one moment that sealed a worse fate.
-v-
That afternoon, your mother ushers you to the Modiste, paying handsomely for a very rushed wedding dress. Something simple that can be finished at such a late hour. It will only be your family in attendance anyway; so much else seems unnecessary. As you stand forlornly upon the raised dias, ivory silk tacked up around you with pins; your mother announces she needs to depart to secure other last-minute arrangements, leaving your trusty ladies' maid to accompany you home once alterations are complete.
“You do not look a happy bride…” Madam Delacroix mutters after the tinkle of the bell above the door signals her departure.
“Your observation skills are certainly not lacking,” you respond quietly, craning to double-check that Rachel, your maid, is out of earshot, sitting listlessly in the front of the store, staring out of the window.
“I do read Whistledown, my dear,” she remarks delicately, “and this does not appear to be a dress someone marrying a Bridgerton would wear.”
Your stomach vaults at the implication; the thought of marrying Benedict has your heart going haywire, even as you know it would never happen. The crestfallen look as your mind flits to the awful man you will be marrying instead is one you cannot hide as she meets your eyes in the reflection.
“It is not indeed,” you sigh, “but Whistledown has rather accelerated my unfortunate fate. Hence the rushed dress…” you gesture to your outfit.
“Mr Bridgerton is a friend?” she digs delicately.
“Lifelong,” you admit, “but Lady Whistledown could not have been more erroneous in her assertions…”
“That you and Mr Bridgerton are together? Or that he would marry you?” 
You look away from the mirror and down to where she is crouched by your hem on your left side, taken back not only at her astuteness but her drive for information. Almost as if she were Whistledown herself.
“I do not mean to pry,” she modifies, “merely to understand your predicament. Maybe I can be of assistance? I have privately counselled many a young lady on the eve of their wedding. Be it a happy occasion or not. And have kept many a secret of the Ton. ‘Tis the reason my business is so successful, Miss y/l/n. A good modiste can be a trusted confidante.”
“W-we are not together,” you stumble out without meaning to.
“But you wish to be? Or perhaps something has happened between you?”
Your eyes dart furtively, and your cheeks heat at the memory, but you say nothing. 
“You need say no more,” she chuckles and offers a knowing smile that appears as much reminiscent as sympathetic.
You rapidly attempt to deflect. “I do not wish to be married to anyone, really. I do find it so unfair a man is free to pursue his passions in life, but merely due to my sex, I am not.”
There is a nod of understanding, and she stands up with her hands on her hips. “I keep a certain array of refreshments for special clients such as yourself.” She nods to what looks like a liquor cabinet partially obscured behind a curtain at the back of her shop. “If you can dismiss your maid, I can assist you on your last night as an unmarried lady.”
The suggestion is too intriguing to refuse. And Rachel will greatly appreciate your pin money.
A few hours later, you are sat upon a circular conversation chair, Gen, as she insists you call her, pouring you another snifter of brandy.
“Tell me, what is your passion?” she inquires, her polished French accent slipping a little, sounding far more East End than Parisian. Something about that makes you like her more.
“Art,” you answer wistfully, “not that I have many opportunities to practice beyond a private notebook. But it is my most prized possession.” You gesture to your pelisse, hanging on a nearby hook. “I have it with me always. I have sewn a secret pocket into all of my coats myself.”
“Ingenious! ” She declares. “You shall have my job one day!”
You laugh, feeling light for the first time in what feels like days, as Gen leans in, raising an eyebrow. “I can also see well why you may have bonded with Mr Bridgerton…”
You giggle and lower your eyes, taking a fortifying sip.
“But it is not just that, is it?” Her tone is thoughtful, delicate even, as she continues: “A life outside the boundaries of so-called polite society can be so very beguiling, can it not? I have seen you, Miss y/l/n, at parties in Bloomsbury…”
A panicked bile rises as your head snaps up.
“As I said before, I am always discreet,” she reassures, “your secret is more than safe with me,” she winks before taking a generous sip from her glass.
Possibly, it's the alcohol, but her understanding of your predicament and the fact she has, unbeknownst to you, moved in similar circles brings an odd sense of relief. Having a confidante, someone to finally share your secrets with, albeit a somewhat stranger, lifts a burden from your shoulders. Wonderful as Eloise is, being the sister of the man who secretly holds your heart is not without complications in many ways.
“Another?” she chimes animatedly, holding aloft the bottle.
You cannot resist that offer.
-vi-
It’s close to midnight when Gen loops her arm in yours as she guides you, quite inebriated herself, away from the hackney cab to the familiar abode of one Henry Granville. Her declaration that a party is what you need on your last night of freedom is definitely not one you would dispute. A myriad of heightened emotions roil inside as you await the door being answered: contentment at your newly cemented friendship with Gen, bewildered every time you think of your kiss with Benedict and abhorrence for tomorrow. 
As you wander into the debauched tableau of a party in full swing: the air thick with smoke and merriment, the sounds of pleasure, people consorting together, a hedonistic swirl of self-expression unfurling all around you—it all consolidates into a yen to be reckless. Take part this time rather than just observe as you have before. Alcohol mutating the simmering rage about the injustice of your circumstance into a yearning to experience pleasure, especially physical. To get lost in sensation on your one last night of liberty.
So when you encounter Sir Simms - Matthew - friend to your older brother, renowned rake, but quite handsome, you throw caution to the wind. He seems delighted to see you, instantly flirtatious and familiar in a way you would rebuff any other night but this one. Whispering in your ear how very bold you are to be at such a bohemian event and pondering what other adventurous experiences you might be willing to indulge in. At one point Gen pulls you aside, her breath sweetened with fermented fruits, as she leans in and counsels you to be cautious. But you rebuff her concerns, swatting away her hold and returning to Matthew, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. 
It’s not the same as with Benedict; your mind screams at the altogether more jarring experience. A wet invasion of tongue that is less pleasant and certainly doesn’t fire anything inside you the way that he had. Merely kindling a defiant resolve to rage against the dying light of your freedom. And so when he slurs into your ear, you consent to his invitation upstairs, knowing fully the implications of what will transpire—feeling vaguely detached from yourself as he pulls you along by the hand towards the staircase. 
Suddenly, your field of vision is filled with dark blue velvet, a strong arm wrapping around you, caging you into a warm body mass, disconnecting your hand from Matthew’s—crossed words in two male voices. A momentarily confusing blur that only begins to make sense when you tilt your chin up… and the breath is quite stolen from your lungs.
Benedict.
At first, it feels like a cruel mirage, the man you most desire here to stymie your last gamble at impulsivity. His hold is strong as you sense Matthew shrink away, defeated by Benedict’s threat to expose some dalliance or other. But as he whisks you to an empty room within the house, all you feel bubbling up is anger.
“Stop trying to rescue me!” you rail, reeling out of his grip and stamping your foot to emphasise your point, uncaring that you may be behaving more akin to a petulant toddler.
“Stop making foolish decisions!” he lobbies back after a fleeting wounded look.
You glare at him momentarily before turning your back and staring out of the window into the inky blackness of Granville’s garden, frustration prickling a tear in the corner of your eye.
Behind you, there is a sigh; then his voice turns softer. “Why did you not follow my advice? I came here this morning only to be informed you never arrived…”
That he came to check on you weakens your bluster, although you still have no earthy idea why, once again, he is so invested in your actions. But you are not done saying your piece. 
“What does it matter now?” you bite bitterly before spinning around to face him. “Benedict, we are in Whistledown. My father would have arranged a special licence for tomorrow regardless of whether I had come here or not…”
“He did what?” he splutters, shock almost choking the words.
You square your shoulders and cross your arms defensively. “I am to be married in the morning. 11am at St George’s.” When all he offers is floored silence, you uncharitably dig the knife in. “No thanks to you...” 
Your words are like a body blow, a world of hurt in his quiet tone as he stares at the ground. “I was only trying to help.” 
Regret floods your every cell; why you would choose to lash out at him, even you don't know—so many conflicting feelings and strong liquor coursing through you.
“Please… let me return to the party,” you sigh wearily, after a beat, gesturing to his blocking your exit from the room.
“You would regret what you were about to do until your dying day,” he attests, lifting his head, a vein on his forehead pulsing as his jaw tenses.
“Perhaps,” you shrug. “But that is my burden to endure, not yours.”
“I am your friend,” he frowns, “I will always want to alleviate your burdens…”
“I do not want a friend, Benedict, not tonight. I want a beau.” If you aimed to shock him, you are successful; a cavalcade of expressions warring on his face as you plough on. “So please move so that I may continue with my most inadvisable plan….”
“No.” It's soft but unequivocal, resolute.
When you realise he is not going to budge, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Benedict?” 
There is a gruff noise in the back of his throat, and then, with two determined strides, he is pressed up against you, his breath hot on your face. Then he is kissing you, ferociously, wantonly, opening your mouth with his, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you roughly into him.
And you are lost.
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masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)
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Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies
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purple-plum-petals · 5 days ago
Text
⊱ What It’s Like Cuddling with Him ⊰ || Mr. Gap Headcanons
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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): None! Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~590 words. Request: “Please I've been dying for content 😔 can I get uhhhh mr.gap content plz ?? I can't stop thinking about him popping up between ur blankets on you. Love ur homicipher stuff so far btw 🩷” Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the kind words! I’ve been enjoying writing for the fandom, too. Everyone has been so incredibly supportive, and that just means the world to me as a writer who never thinks their work is good enough. I love you, Homicipher fandom. 😭🫶 I went ahead and did headcanons about how Mr. Gap would be as a cuddle buddy since you mentioned the scene of him popping up between the blankets (and because they’re a lot easier to crank out than full-on drabbles haha). I hope you enjoy!  
→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡
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🕳️: The first time Mr. Gap surprised you by suddenly appearing under the covers, you nearly died of a heart attack right then in there before scolding him to never do that again. He simply rolled his eyes at you, calling you boring before disappearing into the void once again. He never did stop like you had asked him to which, honestly, wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Eventually, you got used to his sudden presence to the point where it didn’t startle you as horribly as it used to (much to his disappointment). 
🕳️: Even if you don’t get startled by his appearance as often as you used to, that doesn’t mean you never get scared when he suddenly pops up. He enjoys spooking you, smiling widely whenever you gasp or let out a shriek when he lunges at your face from under the sheets like an alligator shooting out of the water to grab unsuspecting prey in its maws. He leaves with a chuckle if you smack or try to hit him, vanishing before you can do any damage. Your reactions are funny to him, and he enjoys being able to get a rise out of you. 
🕳️: You eventually become fed up with him and ask him with a huff if he wants to cuddle after lifting your covers and seeing his face in the darkness underneath, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He grimaces and asks you what that even means, not familiar with the term. After explaining it to him as best as you could considering the language barrier, his semi-disgusted expression doesn’t change, and he leaves faster than it took you to blink. This continues for a while, you ask him with a smirk if he wants to cuddle with you which successfully manages to chase the trickster away (you just have to threaten him with physical affection... good information to know).
🕳️: However, one day, Mr. Gap doesn’t leave after your half-hearted threat. He stays and stares up at you with a blank look on his face before, to your shock, agrees to cuddle with you. It’s strange laying in bed with a ghost that doesn’t have a body in the conventional sense, his head resting on your chest while his arms rest limply at your sides (he usually doesn’t hold you back, instead laying on you like a dead fish). While you can feel the presence of a form on top of you, whenever you try to catch a glimpse, you cannot see anything resembling a body underneath the covers. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, though, and he reminds you of a weighted blanket. 
🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t move or make much noise whenever you two are cuddling, an occurrence that has become more frequent as time goes on. He isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, but he finds himself not minding the way your hands feel threading through his hair or the sound of your beating heart while his ear is pressed against your chest. The noise is strangely comforting... 
🕳️: If you inquire about his lack of commentary, he looks up at you and smirks, asking if you would give him your heart. You just tell him no with a smile since you were used to his questions at this point and close your eyes, your hands returning to combing out in knots in his black locks without another word… He kind of hates how he doesn’t find himself disgusted by your touch, and he can’t help but wonder why that is. 
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forsworned · 3 months ago
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I just got a great idea. Imagine the teenage dirt bag trend with 141, where reader is chill and laid back, and as 141 and reader are in the break room, gaz or soap ask reader about her life before the military and she just goes to her office to get some photos of her and her friends in their teens, smoking weed and in some she has some sick piercings and a skater, or maybe even a motorcycle. I don't even know. I'm just rambling. You can write it if you want but if you don't want to then feel free to ignore me 🫶🏼🙆🏻‍♀️
author's note: and a great idea you have indeed :) i gotchuuu and im so sorry this took me forever to get to
tags: poly 141 antics, cheeky banter, and a lil flirting with the boys ;)
Breakfast is a fan favorite amongst the 141, especially when it involves the sweet and savory aroma of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and your famous potato hash—a dish that's practically a cult fave within the team. As you settle in your seat between Johnny and Kyle with your coffee mug in your hand, the group is chatting about their former glory days before they joined the military.
Johnny nudges you with a playful smirk, still noshing on a piece of toast. "So, hen, ye look like ye had a bit of a wild streak back in the day, aye? Bet ye were a right wee devil." His tone is teasing, laced with curiosity as his cerulean gaze lingers on you.
You roll your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Kyle chimes in, his tone equally teasing, "Yeah, you look like the type who got up to all sorts of dodgy stuff. Proper troublemaker, I reckon. C'mon love, spill the beans." He nudges with a grin.
Price looks over his newspaper at double trouble across the table, before turning the page, causing you to chuckle. "Well," you fish out your phone from your pocket and everyone leans forward in their seats as you scroll through your camera roll. You stop at an album and tap on it before rotating the screen to face them and they can't help the excited noises that leave their mouths.
"No way!" Johnny exclaims, his grin widens as he spots a photo of you leaning against a cherry red muscle car. "Is that a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro!?" Kyle chirps, taking your phone from you and you laugh at their reactions. That gets Price's attention and he leans over to get a gander of the rebellious glint in your eye and the streaks of red fashioned into your hair.
"Christ," He beams down at the photo and then up at you. "looks like you were quite the rebel, eh? No wonder these two pillocks won't stop botherin' ya."
Kyle lets out a whistle as he swipes to the next photo, showcasing you with a cigarette hanging between your lips, clad in a skimpy bikini, leaning against your palms on a beach on a sunlit beach with the sunset casting a tangerine glow. "Cheeky."
Johnny's eyes ream at the photo, taking you in your exposed form. "Aye, look at ye!" His cheeks flush as he tilts his head, peeking up at you. "I gotta give it ya, lassie, yer quite the stunner."
"And still are." Price adds, raising his eyebrows at you. You fluster at his kind words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Thank you,"
"Oi! Look at this one!" Johnny points to the screen again, having a good laugh. You lean into Kyle and giggle at the photo. Grin as wide as your face with an alligator's jaw clamped shut between your hands. "That cannot be real!"
"It's really not as wild as it looks. I was on vacation in Florida, and a local wildlife park had this little show where they let you hold and pose with a baby alligator. They made sure everything was safe and supervised. Super fun."
Price cocks an amused brow at you, sipping his coffee. "Baby alligator, eh? You're quite the thrill seeker."
"Yeahhh, not much has changed." Kyle ribs and the others laugh. It's true though. You were actively pursuing that adrenaline rush, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to them, especially not Simon.
As the laughter dies down, Simon, who was quietly enjoying his tea and observing the situation unfold finally speaks up, "You lot are gettin' too chuffed over this, but I gotta admit..." He leans back, his dark eyes fixate on you and you can't help but take notice of how his mask is scrunched up under his nose, revealing the pale pink of his lips. "Never quite pegged you for a lil rascal. Bet you gave your folks a right headache."
He prods the phone out of Johnny's hand and takes a look at the other photos they were scrolling through and softly snorting at what looks like an image of you on stage, strumming at a guitar and singing your heart out. "But I reckon that's what makes you fit in so will with these bunch of nutters." His lips quirk into a faint smile as he hands you back your phone and goes back to munching on his eggs. "Ain't it always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"
Your cheeks blossom with warmth at his comment and the cute little smile that adorns his handsome face. "Well, I didn't think I was all that quiet." You poke your tongue in your cheek, gently prying the phone out of his hands.
His finger seems to biff at your screen as it clatters out of your grasp because his onyx eyes widen at the photo. Skin exposed, revealing the ink that embellishes your lower left hip in delicate, intricate patterns as you're posing sexy for the camera. Your heart plunges to your ass at the realization of it not being in your hidden album.
"Oh—that's, uhhh" You stammer swiftly, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. Your tongue swipes at your lips as you avert your gaze, but Simon takes note of how you nervously twiddle with the spoon as it clatters against the walls of your mug.
Simon's eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to his tea, "well, well, well..."
The rest of the team is still buzzing with the excitement of your heydays as they detect the slight change in atmosphere.
"Oi, what's all of this about, then?" Johnny asks with a mouth full of food. "Give us the scoop!"
But the Scotsman is getting scolded by Price and Kyle for not keeping his mouth shut while he eats. A sheepish smile adorns his lips, rubbing the back of his neck as he apologizes. Simon chuckles, and shakes his head, "Nothin' worth spillin', Johnny. Just a bit of a laugh."
Of course that earns some groans from them, but you can't help but bite your bottom lip and grin when Simon gives you a knowing look. Some secrets are best kept between friends.
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