#he ignored her as a child too lol

[chigirisprincess]

i stg green-antis try to make everything alicent’s fault like this is straight up misogyny atp !!! wtf!!!!

[yuridovewing]

like guys i promise im aware blossomfall is meant to be a glass child. i just think she’s a poorly written one lmao

[i-am-agent-washingtub]

Very tired but determined young man still thinks I'm going to throw his toy again

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

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[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: bff'sbrother!jungkook, softdom!jungkook, enemies2lovers-ish, he's a lil annoying in this, angst, mentions of rejection, one-sided crush, afab reader, smut, fingering, dry humping, penetrative sex, overstimulation (kinda), etc.

wc: 4076

a/n: another jk fic bc im taking time off work and have nothing to do</3 this went longer than anticipated lol sorry

masterlist

"what are you doing here?", grumbled the man as soon as he opened the door and spotted you on the other side of it.

"can you get out of the way? i'm obviously here for minji."

"she doesn't get here til tomorrow," he responded, though still moving out of the way to let you in.

you were about to snark at him again when he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening when they made contact with the suitcases you were struggling to drag behind you, "why are you carrying suitcases? fuck, don't tell me you're staying here," he grabbed onto one, stopping your movements.

"yes, jungkook. minji told me i could crash here for spring break. what's it to you? your house is big enough. just ignore my presence," you attempted to move your suitcases again, knowing you'd receive no help from the boy even if you asked.

"so you're here to ruin my break?" the complaints were never ending despite having entered the home only mere moments ago.

"stop being a child and get out of my way," you grumbled when the idiot refused to remove his hand from the handle of your suitcase.

he let out a heavy sigh, scrunching his eyes closed in annoyance before speaking again, "okay, move. i'll bring your shit upstairs."

"no, i can-"

"you can't carry all this upstairs. my mom's gonna be mad if i don't offer to help you. just let go," he muttered, pushing your hands away and somehow lifting both suitcases at once as he walked towards the stairs.

without any energy to argue with him, you just followed him upstairs, annoyed he insisted to pretend to do you a favor.

"are your parents home?", you asked, confused as to why he had been the one to open the door.

"no, they went out of town this weekend. they should be here tonight."

"why are you here?"

you knew this was his home, but it was a valid question. this had been the third time you'd spent some sort of school break at minji's house, yet jungkook had never been there during the duration of it, usually only popping up for a day or two by the end of each break.

"you mean in my house?", he chuckled sarcastically.

"you're never here- you know what i meant."

"didn't have any plans this time. why? am i ruining your break?"

the two of you finally made it to the extra guest room in minji's house, with jungkook settling your stuff on the bed and uncharacteristically taking a seat on it, as if planning to hang around. you ignored the thought and went to open your suitcase, planning to unpack a few of the things since you'd be staying for over a week.

"yeah," you deadpanned.

he scoffed, "not like i wanna spend my break with you either, princess."

groaning, you threw a folded shirt at him, "ew, i told you not to call me that."

seemingly pleased at having annoyed you, he chuckled and picked up the shirt you threw, folding it and placing it on the bed. he continued to occasionally grab one thing or another as you unpacked. you always knew jungkook to be quite fidgety, so you didn't question him grabbing your stuff to entertain himself as you unpacked.

jungkook wordlessly stayed on your bed as you went around the room organizing your stuff, attempting to ignore his presence but not entirely able to. you were willing to retain peace without complaining, but then he started making noise.

you usually didn't care for his presence too much, even as badly as the two of you got along, but the constant humming quickly got on your nerves. he hummed and hummed and did not stop even as ten minutes passed by, still taking stuff from your suitcase to fidget with. currently he was entertaining himself with a random shoe.

"jungkook! why are you still here?", you suddenly snapped, confused as to why he'd been sitting on your bed with a blank look on his face despite usually being liberal in expressing his dislike for you.

he looked at you for a few moments, no emotion on his face before speaking up.

"why don't we get along?"

"what?"

"you heard me. why don't we get along? you've been friends with my sister since childhood, but you've always hated me. why?"

"you started it," you murmured, taking the shoe he currently had in his hold and turning around to place it somewhere else.

he got up, walking over to you and turning you around by your shoulders and taking the shoe from you again, "i started it? what are you talking about? you've been rude to me since the seventh grade. i've just been returning the favor."

sighing in frustration, you grabbed shook his hands off your shoulders and stubbornly grabbed the shoe again, "why do you think that is, jungkook?"

a confused look overtook his face at your insinuation of your relationship being his fault, clearly not remembering what you were referring to.

"wha-what are you talking about?"

"god, you're such a dumbass sometimes. i mean, i assumed you didn't remember, but to have confirmation of it just kinda sucks," you chuckled bitterly.

he grabbed onto your shoulders again when you tried to walk past him, "tell me what you're talking about," he insisted.

for the most part, you didn't want to. you still felt embarrassed thinking about it, even if it had been over a decade since it had happened. to know he really didn't remember the source of your dislike for him also didn't really help matters. it just frustrated you at his presence even more.

through the years you had learned not to take the mutual banter too seriously. it was mostly lighthearted, to be honest. but any time you thought back to how it had started, you became beyond angry at the boy who was seemingly nice too all those he knew but you. sure, you had technically been the one to source this animosity, but he bad been the instigator of it after all.

you had been nine years old at the time, having recently moved into town and befriended minji. she had been your salvation, becoming instantly interested in being your friend despite you being brand new. you became quick friends, hanging out inside and outside school almost every day.

minji had the good fortune of being extremely close to her family, which allowed you to bond with them quite a lot. that was when you met her older brother, one of her favorite people in the world.

jungkook had been pure perfection in your young eyes, seeing him as unattainable at the young age of nine. he was two years your senior, which made you come to the quick realization that your crush would remain one-sided forever. except this didn't stop your naive heart to read into his nice demeanor and wishfully believe that maybe he'd like you back.

you crushed on him silently for three years, even coming to befriend him in the process. you wouldn't see him too often, but it was always nice when you did, always getting along quite well. this continued up until you hit twelve years of age, your tweenhood years. unfortunately, jungkook was now into his teens, meaning that he followed the footprints of every other man and had a short-lived phase where he was a bit insensitive to girls his age.

being completely delusional and being on your way to graduate middle school, you took a leap, deciding to invite jungkook as your date to your middle school prom. you had thought you read all the signs right, thinking that even if he rejected you, he'd still be nice enough to go with you as a friend. your hopes were completely crushed when he turned you down with zero hesitance, even patronizing you in the process.

the worst part of it all came later, when you were first entering high school. somehow a few of his friends had gotten word of the situation, dubbing you as desperate and obsessed with him. although the rumors died pretty quickly, and you were able to feign indifference to jungkook and everyone else, the seed of hate began to grow in you. little by little, you stopped speaking to jungkook altogether, eventually coming to proudly dislike him. despite minji's constant questioning about your change in demeanor towards her brother, you never told, not wanting any drift to be caused between you and minji, nor her and her brother.

the gradual change in your feelings for jungkook had been so natural that it made sense for him to not remember the source of the current state of your relationship. he had caught on naturally, simply bantering back with you whenever you gave him attitude. it was likely that he believed it all to be lighthearted at first, eventually becoming accustomed enough to it to not question it.

and now you were here, having to explain a stupid childhood heartbreak to the perpetrator of it all as he stared down at you in absolute wonder.

"eighth grade, jungkook. remember?"

he shook his head in confusion, his eyes still wide as his brain wracked itself to remember.

"the dance?"

"the dance? what dan- oh! the- the dance? that's it?"

'that's it'?

he mustve caught the look of annoyance in your face, as he quickly went to retract himself.

"fuck, wait. i didn't mean it like that, just- is that why you hate me? because i said no to you?"

you took a step away from him again, still frustrated, but his arms remained on your shoulders so you would keep looking right at him. it was awkward and extremely uncomfortable considering the context, but you didn't move away.

"it wasn't just that, jungkook," you started, "was it that horrible of a thought to go to the dance with me? i was twelve, you couldve been nicer about it. and to tell your friends about it? i was mocked for weeks after that. and now you wanna act like this is my fault? like ive just been mean to you for no reason?", you scoffed, looking at your feet in favor of not having to look at him.

"wait, who ... who made fun of you? i- i never told anyone what happened. why would i do that?"

"jungkook, stop. taehyung? jimin? they wouldn't stop bringing it up for weeks. it died down after a while, but i was already humiliated."

he shook his head and denial, seemingly at himself. finally letting go of you, he sat back on the bed, look of confusion still on his face before a lightbulb metaphorically manifested itself above his head.

"oh fuck," he muttered, "i- i remember now, but it didn't go down the way you think, okay? let me explain."

you crossed your arms and nodded, signaling for him to continue.

he uncrossed his arms, running them through his hair in a frustrated fashion before he began to explain, oddly passionate as he did so, "i told them right after it happened. i felt so bad for saying no to you, they noticed how down i was about it and asked. i swear i didnt say anything bad. fuck, i never knew they teased you about it, im so sorry," he rambled, "and i didnt- i didnt mean to make you feel bad when i said no. you're my sister's best friend and- and you were so young. i know it doesnt matter anymore, but saying yes felt wrong. it felt like id be taking advantage of you somehow."

"jungkook-"

"if it makes you feel better," he hesitated before continuing, "i, uh, i kinda had a crush on you when we were 17. i- i was going to ask you to my prom, but you picked a fight with me that day and told me to get the fuck out. thats, that's kinda when i started to hate you back," he smiled awkwardly towards the end.

that took you for a bit of a loop. you weren't a heartless asshole. it wasnt like you meant to hurt him through your dislike of him, but rather protect yourself from further rejection. it made you feel bad to know that you'd somewhat done a similar thing to him at some point, even verbally berating him time after time when his intentions hadn't been malicious.

"are you serious?"

"do you really hate me? for what i did, i mean," he interrupted.

did you? for the most part, you had just grown far too used to your animosity with jungkook. due to your own mean behavior towards him, he became equally as rude, creating a vicious cycle of disrespect between the two of you. but did you hate him?

the answer was probably not.

if you did, your heart wouldn't have jumped at the mention of him having had a crush on you back when you were seventeen.

"no, i don't hate you. do you?"

he turned to you, shaking his head, "of course not," he confirmed, "do you wanna start over?", he asked, getting up from the bed and walking over to you.

you couldn't help but chuckle at his sudden proposal. you also couldnt help in nodding in agreement, confirming that yes, you'd be willing to put aside a petty middle school misunderstanding in favor of starting over.

then he opened his arms, gesturing for a hug before asking for permission for one, "hug?"

wordlessly, you accepted the offer of a friendly hug, reasoning that it was only natural considering how touchy he was with everyone other than yourself.

when you went to pull away, his arms tightened around you, head burying itself further into your hair, "just a little longer," he murmured.

with no reason to deny him, you wrapped your arms around him once more, only letting go when he started to slowly pull away.

that's when you made the mistake of looking up at him as he attempted to make himself let go of you.

seemingly, he had made the same mistake, now locking eyes with you at a proximity far too close for two people who hated each other just mere minutes ago. stupidly enough, your eyes predictably went down to his lips, not realizing his own had done the same. the only difference was that he was far more daring than you, allowing his lips to lower down onto yours and envelop them in a soft kiss.

greedy hands dug into your hips before making their way to your waist, holding you as close to him as he could. your own hands wrapped around his shoulders, moving to play with his hair as soon as the kiss turned more heated.

moaning against him, he pulled away for a second, still keeping his lips entirely too close to your own as he breathed through his nose to calm himself down. the following kiss was even more harrowing, causing you to take a step back due to the sheer force of it. he walked you back, pressing you up against the nearest wall as he took advantage of being able to crowd you, allowing his hands to get a feel of your body as you kissed.

despite how pathetically you followed his lips, he still pulled away, throwing his shirt off before going back to kissing you, letting his hands wander underneath your own shirt as he did so. his hands dug deep under your shirt, feeling up your bare breasts and groaning at the lack of bra.

gradually, his lips made their way to your ear and then down your neck, murmuring against your skin.

"fuck, so fucking pretty ... and so needy for me, huh? sound so good moaning for me like that," he breathed against you.

you burned up, embarrassed by how easily he had an effect on you, but you still let him do whatever he wanted, knowing that nothing you did would prevent your body from wanting his touch.

throwing off your shirt, his lips trailed down even further south, latching onto your nipples and groaning into your skin at the way you arched your body, pressing up even closer to him.

but suddenly there was a shift.

jungkook halted his movements, making his way back up to your lips and locking them with his own in a heavy and greedy kiss, resulting in a lack of breath from both of you. against your lips, he whispered something that made your knees buckle.

"i'm gonna pay you back for all those times you were mean to me, baby," his lips moved to your ear, chuckling at your anticipatory shudder, "gonna do whatever i want with this pretty body, yeah?"

nodding pathetically, you gave way for him to do anything he wanted. already drenched, there was no way you could possibly formulate any words that didn't come out as an embarrassing whine. he seemed to enjoy this too, holding a pleased smirk in his face as he easily dragged you over to the bed, pushing off your suitcase and dropping you on it with a bounce.

before you could even think, jungkook had already thrown off his shoes and undone his pants, his hands coming to do the same to you. your shaky hands attempted to help him, but he simply tsk'd at you, letting you know that he'd take care of everything tonight. everything, he emphasized.

"oh, fuck," he groaned once you were fully nude, "this is all mine now, yeah? fuck, been waiting for years for you to stop being a brat and let me have this pretty body all to myself," he kissed your lips between each sentence, "might lose control at how gorgeous and mine it is ..." he murmured as his hands took their rightful place exploring your body.

"kook-" you whined, already wanting him to do something – anything.

"shh, baby," he coo'd, "i'm gonna do whatever i want. and you're gonna take it like a good girl, okay? gonna behave for me for once."

fully crawling on top of you, jungkook went back to making out with you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he began humping against your already soaked cunt.

groaning, he pulled away for a second in favor of nibbling softly at your lip, "oh, this pretty pussy's so fucking soaked already ... thought you hated me, baby, what happened?" he chuckled darkly, giving you no room to answer before shoving his tongue in your mouth.

just as his tongue attempted to suck all air out of you, his hand suddenly snuck between your bodies, finding your cunt with ease and beginning to drag his fingers up and down your folds, not giving you want you needed.

"pretty fucking pussy," he murmured, "gonna play with your clit now, baby. it's gonna cry for me by the time im done."

his fingers found your clit almost immediately, taking turns in rubbing teasing circles over it and hammering in and out of your cunt. he swallowed every single moan, groaning against your lips any time your cries went so high they went straight to his cock.

"that good, pretty? so good that you have to cry for more? oh, baby. you're so lucky this pussy's so fucking cute. lucky i cant control myself around you ..."

"f-faster, please ..."

"faster? oh, like this?", his fingers slowed down drastically, barely stimulating you at all as you cried and clawed at his back, whining for more than he seemed willing to give you.

"n-no! please, just- just wanna cum, kookie. please?"

his fingers curled entirely too well at your cry of his nickname, even making him groan when he felt your own reaction to his fingers. it was clear he liked you crying out for him, so the more you did it, the more of his fingers he gave you, leading you to the verge of an orgasm.

afraid he'd try and deny you just for sadistic means, you cried for him prematurely, begging him to let you cum.

"kookie, p-please, please let me cum, i-i'll do anything. i'll give you anything, just, fuck, please!"

there was not a single care in you about how pathetic and out of character you sounded, not when jungkook's wasnt faring any better at the effect your desperation had on him.

"cum. cum for me, baby. wanna feel that cunt cream around my fingers so i can fill it back up with my own, okay? be good for me and- fuck, and cum ..." as much as he wanted to be in charge and show a dominant side to him, your cunt just kept dragging his fingers back in, making him feel a carnal need to steal your orgasm all for himself and many others after this one.

your hand wrapped around his free wrist, needing it as support as an otherworldly orgasm took over you. back arching and eyes rolling back, you became a sight that jungkook had only ever seen in his most depraved of dreams about you. he was surprised at his cock not bursting upon such an arousing view, making him realize that he needed to fuck you as soon as posible before losing his mind.

despite talking you through your orgasm, jungkook still gave you no time to recover before shoving his tongue in your mouth and grabbing his dick to drag up and down your sensitive folds.

crying against him, you attempted to push him away at first, feeling too sensitive for immediate stimulation, but your body gave up quickly after, melting into the overload of pleasure. tears crowded in your eyes, but your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, needing more of that pressure against your cunt.

taking the hint and far too horny to drag this out any longer, he pushed inside you, groaning against you at the feeling of finally being wrapped around your warmth.

"it's so fucking wet ... oh, fuck. you wanted this so bad, didnt you, baby? fucking soaked and just pulling me in ... it's so- so tight n warm n perfect for me," he babbled, lost in pleasure.

jungkook's hips were restless against yours, an insatiable desire to chase for his pleasure taking over him as the sound of skin slapping made him dizzy. the occasional babble accompanied by a pitiful hiccup that came out of you did not help his situation, making him fear that he might cum before you.

"let- let me just get my finger there- yeah, fuck. just gonna rub that tiny little clit, okay? shit, you just tightened around my cock so fucking good ..." he groaned, thumb circling your clit to accelerate your orgasm.

"g-gonna, fuck, gonna cum ... p-please ... with me? cum with me?" you begged, barely able to get a single coherent word out while jungkook showed no mercy against you.

nodding, he kissed you, promising he'd cum – begging you to cum. counting you down, he whispered against your ear while his hips stuttered messily against your own, now completely overtaken by both yours and his orgasm.

the sounds shared between the two of you were nothing short of shameful, consisting of whines and cries filled with desperation. it was a depraved scene only meant for the two of you to enjoy.

pulling out of you proved to be a challenge, as jungkook would happily remained inside you until his last breath, but the thought of holding you innocently in his arms as you caught your breath was something he did not want to miss out on.

and so he held you against him, crowding your face against his chest so you could lay your head right by his heart.

"that was-"

"yeah," he breathed with a chuckle before turning to you with a boyish smile on his face, "i have a confession to make."

you turned around too, unable to not match his smile, "what is it?"

"i lied earlier. i, uh, i did like you when you were seventeen, but ... i kinda still like you."

it was impossible not to feel your face warm up at this, scrunching up your nose at how cutely he had confessed, "what if i said it was mutual?"

his smile somehow got bigger at that, "then i'd say i'm gonna have to steal you away from my sister," he pulled you into his chest again, enjoying the vibrations of your laugh.

a/n: this was rushed and not proofread sorry</3

[maidragoste]

Aerion

Age up!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader (Daeron's twin sister)

Part 3 of I miss you

I honestly didn't think it would take me more than a year to decide if I wanted this to have a happy ending or not lol

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥹🙏🏻💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

The gods are cruel, Alicent Hightower thought as she watched her youngest daughter enter the throne room. The plan was that Larys would get you out of here with Aegon, Jaehaera, and Maelor but of course, the cursed baby had to ruin everything again. You went into labor and couldn't get away.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” said Alicent, horrified as she saw how the traitorous golden cloaks escorted you. It was obvious that you had barely finished giving birth and were brought here to swear loyalty to Rhaenyra. They hadn’t had the decency to let you clean yourself or wait for you to rest. Your always perfect hair was now a mess. Sweat and blood could be seen on your nightgown and legs. Not only that, but you looked like you were about to collapse. If it weren’t for the master holding your body, you probably would have fallen. Even though you wanted to appear strong, Alicent knew you and could see that you were confused and scared. No one should see a princess like that.

Alicent wasn't the only one horrified by the situation. Rhaenyra was too, remembering how she once had to bring Joffrey to the queen after his birth.

But the most shocked one was Jacaerys. For months he had been going crazy because no one could get any information about you, worried about your well-being and it turns out that you were pregnant with his child. He had no doubt that the baby you hold against your chest was his because he knew that if it were another man your family would have instantly made you marry but when it was him, Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's bastard, they hadn't wanted the news to spread.

“This is a shame! We are dealing with a princess of the kingdom!” said Jacaerys furiously at the guards as he approached you, drawing the attention of the court and disturbing the newborn.

“¹Ziry iksos sȳz, ziry iksos sepār aōha kepa,” you whispered, trying to reassure your baby. Jacaerys had missed hearing your voice so much but what moved him most was being called Kepa for the first time. He never thought it would be possible to have this with you, of course it wasn’t the best time being in the middle of a war and the child having been born out of wedlock, but he couldn’t help but feel happy. Was it wrong that after months of so much misery and loss, he felt happy to know that now in the world there was someone who was half the woman he loved the most and half his?

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, ivestragī nyke gūrogon ao naejot aōha chambers. Ao should clean bē se rest” Jacaerys said, ignoring the glances of his mother and stepfather. He knew he would have to have a conversation with them later, but right now all he cared about was you.

You nodded, moving away from the maester and Jacaerys took you in his arms and lifted you being as careful as possible. You felt your body relax as you rested your head against his shoulder. Finally, after months you felt something other than sadness and fear, you felt warm and safe with Jace. You needed him so much during all this time.

Alicent hated Rhaenyra's bastard for dishonoring you, with this scene everyone would now know that your son was his bastard, but as she watched you leave the room in his arms she couldn't help but feel grateful to him for being the only one to come to your defense. She knew you would be safe from Rhaenyra as long as Jacaerys was by your side, he wouldn't allow anything to happen to you.

As soon as the handmaidens left, your old handmaidens before you got pregnant, you burst into tears. Of course, as they helped you bathe you and your baby, you filled them with questions about what had happened during all those months that you were locked away. You knew there was war in your family but it was still a shock to hear about the deaths. You were shocked to hear what they did to your nephew Jaehaerys. Poor Helaena, poor Aegon. Your dear brother was the only one who had mercy on you and came to see you during your confinement. You thought he was angry with you when he stopped coming but in reality, it was because he ended up so wounded in battle that now Aemond is Prince Regent.

The doors opened again, startling you and you instantly rushed to wipe the tears on your face with your hands. Not wanting to show yourself weaker in front of Rhaenyra and Daemon. You turned around and your body relaxed when you saw that it was Jace. The maids must have told him that both you and the baby were already clean. You didn’t think he would come until later. You were sure he would be busy for hours being questioned by his mother and your uncle.

“We will marry and my mother will legitimize our son,” Jacaerys announced, approaching you with a smile, but you could still see the tiredness on his face. You had no idea how he had managed to convince Rhaenyra to accept, but it couldn’t have been easy or a pleasant conversation. He must have had to endure everyone’s reproaches. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you worriedly when he noticed that you were crying.

“Is it safe for us to do that?” you asked instead. You should be happy after all, you always wanted to marry Jaehaerys but now you were just worried “Won’t it make Daemon even angrier? I don’t want our child to end up like Jaehaerys or for Daemon to end up poisoning me so you can continue your engagement to Baela.”

Jacaerys tensed at your words. And his head began to fill with different scenarios with you and the baby hurt or worse dead. He couldn’t bear to live with himself if that happened. He already lost his brothers, he couldn’t bear to lose you and his child. “That’s not going to happen” he declared caressing your hip. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you or our child. I will fight with fire and blood to protect you.”

“We will fight with fire and blood,” you corrected him.

He smiled at you and you couldn’t take it anymore. You kissed him, like you had dreamed of doing for all these months and it felt even better than you remembered. It was intoxicating, passionate, and warm. You wanted to kiss him forever, you would never get tired of the taste of his lips or his touch. You could feel his love and devotion for you and you loved him.

Then the baby started crying and the two of you instantly pulled apart. The two of you looked at each other before laughing at each other for being so scared by a simple cry.

“Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” you replied, feeling your heart race as you watched him take the baby out of the crib. You had thought that Jace would never meet his son and now you were witnessing him holding him in his arms for the first time. Thank goodness you were alone or you would feel foolish for watching with tears in your eyes as Jace held his son.

“What is his name?” Jace asked, staring in wonder into his son’s violet eyes, the same eyes as yours. That seemed to be the only thing you shared because later the baby had his nose and brown hair.

“I haven’t named him yet,” you admitted, feeling embarrassed at the surprise in his eyes. “I was waiting for you to choose his name.”

Of course, you had thought of some ideas during your pregnancy but now that you had Jace by your side you wanted him to choose the name.

“That's kind of you,” he said, feeling touched by such a gesture.

For a brief moment, Jacaerys considered naming him Lucerys but rejected the idea, not wanting his son's name to be laden with sadness and loss. His son is joy and hope in the midst of this dreadful war.

“Aerion,” Jacaerys said finally, kissing his son’s forehead, making a silent promise that he would always keep him safe.

¹It's fine, it's just your father

²My love, let me take you to your chambers. You should clean up and rest

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[astonmartinii]

Could you do a smau where she’s max’s sister and dominating MotoGP the way max is f1. Maybe they have the typical annoying younger sister/protective big brother relationship and he finds out she’s dating one of the f1 drivers? Xx

cherry lip balm | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x motogp!verstappen!reader

the verstappen siblings run motorsport, but the youngest's f1 allegiances may belong elsewhere

f1 and motogp

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1,405,466 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername

f1 and motogp: happy international siblings day to max and y/n verstappen, these two have 60 wins between them 🏆

view all comments

user1: my faves i love them

user2: the way jos wasn't gonna let them kids do anything else lol

yourusername: + victoria verstappen the patron saint who puts up with both of us love you 🥰

maxverstappen: you mean putting up with you ? i'm a mature man of the world now

yourusername: girl you are fussier than all of our nephews put together mature MY ASS

maxverstappen1: i am mature and i have BOUNDARIES

yourusername: yeah you have boundaries between all your food you bland man

victoriaverstappen: i think you just proved y/n right

user3: they are the most unhinged people ever i feel so bad for victoria lol

user4: patiently waiting for y/n's championship

marcmarquez93: no marquez representation?

yourusername: you need to serve more

maxverstappen1: you guys don't have the verstappen sass

user5: someone needs to stop them 😭

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 832,771 others

yourusername: the two sides of a race week

view all comments

user6: the way she won this race and was like yeah i need that 0.5 of me drinking coffee actually

yourusername: it's a hot chocolate cause i'm a child

user7: are we all collectively ignoring the whole ass man on the last slide?

maxverstappen1: no we're not Y/N Y/M/N VERSTAPPEN CALL ME THIS INSTANT

yourusername: calm it on the all caps and maybe i'll call you

maxverstappen1: MAYBE?

yourusername: well that's not making it any better maxie

user8: i can't loose this parasocial relationship y/n get that man's hands off of you now

landonorris: y/n please pick up max's call he's threatening to throw my monza trophy PLEASE PICK UP I DON'T HAVE THAT MANY TROPHIES

yourusername: please refer to my previous comment about all caps and then come back

landonorris: y/n may you please call your beloved brother back so my very limited trophy collection does not get destroyed

yourusername: sure just for you lando ❤️

maxverstappen1: STOP FLIRTING PLEASE

yourusername: i just picked up ... and ur still commenting (plus that's not lando in the pic btw he's too skinny to be him)

landonorris: why am i getting bullied by both verstappens today, i'm just trying to help :(

maxverstappen1

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,034,661 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: there's no party like a verstappen party and a verstappen-only party with no BOYFRIENDS because they don't exist :)

view all comments

user14: ahaha passive aggressive max is my fave

yourusername: just cause you're too much of a pussy to ask charles out so i can't have a boy friend?

maxverstappen1: what?

yourusername: what?

user15: max as overprotective brother is my new favourite thing

danielricciardo: i fear y/n is 22 years old and her own woman

yourusername: awwww thanks danny at least one man here has SENSE

maxverstappen1: how much did she pay you to comment that?

danielricciardo: she didn't pay me but my house plant currently at hers was being held at gun point

yourusername: i would never

danielricciardo: so i can delete my comment

yourusername: do that and sheila gets it

user16: i know we should be more concerned with max going insane, but daniel's choice of name for his house plant is the most pressing issue

user17: hear me out but for comedic purposes ... i need y/n's bf to be a driver

maxverstappen1: do not speak that into the universe

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 808,943 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: i like the taste of her cherry lip balm

view all comments

user22: what 😭 the 😭 fuck 😭

yourusername: you don't taste half bad either ;)

oscarpiastri: come back to bed

maxverstappen1: NO NO NO STOP RIGHT THERE OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING DON'T SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER

oscarpiastri: how do you know my middle name?

maxverstappen1: i called your mum, anyhow YOU ARE A DEAD MAN

oscarpiastri: how did you get my mum's number?

maxverstappen1: i'm trying to threaten you please stop asking questions

yourusername: maxy please stop trying to be scary i know you still wear footy pjamas at christmas

maxverstappen1: well i hope oscar is terrified by my christmas spirit

user23: i feel like i lose brain cells watching y/n and max talk to each other

user24: we ignoring the fact that max managed to get oscar's mum's number just to ask for his middle name PETTY KING

maxverstappen1: it was more than a middle name, i needed a character witness

yourusername: CHARACTER WITNESS? YOU WORK WITH HIM? YOUR BEST FRIEND IS HIS TEAMMATE?

maxverstappen1: i understand you are making points and no one has a bad word to say about him ... but i've got to stick to the bit now

oscarpiastri: so i'm not going to die in hungary?

maxverstappen1: no. but keep all your business to yourself, i don't need to know what lip balm my sister uses and that you own a bed

oscarpiastri: got it 🫡

user25: well that was dramatic

maxverstappen1

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,203,788 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

maxverstappen1: congrats on your first podium in f1 oscar, welcome to the family i guess ... don't take photos on my phone every again

view all comments

user28: so we can all say oscar has max's approval now?

user29: mans was like wow he challenged me in the race he has the stamp of approval now

yourusername: jokes on you we look great @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: and what the people don't know is that max was also doing face masks with us

maxverstappen1: not the serve you think it is i am very secure in my masculinity

yourusername: i'm glad you've gotten over your weird older brother act ... does this mean you'll both come to my next race?

oscarpiastri: i'll be there :)

maxverstappen1: i guess

yourusername: whooooooooop finally

user30: the way i am so happy for oscar i feel like i've been on this journey with him

user31: honestly rookie of the year and it's not even close

user30: i was talking about him and max... but yeah he's doing great !!!

landonorris: can i also get a pass for your next race y/n for keeping it a secret?

maxverstappen1: WHAT

yourusername: ur so dumb i actually can't

oscarpiastri: i'm not helping you here dude i just got approval

landonorris: well now i regret helping you guys

maxverstappen1: open your door lando

user32: is he dead?

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,348,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri

yourusername: fifth win of the season, my family and the love of my life, what could be better

view all comments

user33: i feel like the shit storm of max and oscar has defo distracted us from the fact that f1 and motogp fans are suffering through a verstappen winning nearly every race

maxverstappen1: i want everyone to appreciate my character growth as i took that gross ass last photo

yourusername: thank you maxy, what a sacrifice

oscarpiastri: thanks dude, you did push me in the water right after though

maxverstappen1: uh you snooze you lose, a verstappen rule of life, you had no phone on you so fair game, i thought you wanted to be part of this family

oscarpiastri: I DO ... does this mean i can push you in next time?

maxverstappen1: absolutely not.

yourusername: do it anyway osc i'll protect you babe

oscarpiastri: idk i'm scared

yourusername: he's ticklish he's so easy to beat

maxverstappen1: THAT WAS A SECRET Y/N

user34: if you told me last season that i'd see max go from wanting to kill piastri to being brothers with him and that i'd know he wears footy pjs and is ticklish i'd laugh in ur face

maxverstappen1: ONLY AT CHRISTMAS

oscarpiastri: don't worry mate i think it's cute

maxverstappen1: okay now i prefer you over y/n

yourusername: who? what? where? when? why?

oscarpiastri: soz babe you snooze you lose

note: ahhhhh i really enjoyed writing this so i hope you enjoy i love writing comment domestics if you couldn't tell lol xx

[potatoplace]

the 1

Elriel, Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Alternate Endings: Gone | betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: All you had ever wanted to be was plain. And now, as a plain-faced High Fae, you want more. You want your mate.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, self-loathing, suicide

Words: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I'm sorry. (I told you guys I've been having a rough week...) Apparently my brain is saying 'fuck Kinktober!' Even tho like. I WANT to write those... smut just doesn't feel in the cards for me today 😩 so have some tasty tasty angst instead. (I'm also watching an Eras Tour live so I'm hella cheered up now lol)

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Self loathing grew in your gut as you watched your family around you.

All of them were happy, reveling in the togetherness that they shared.

And your mate- your mate- was ignoring you. He was speaking to one of your sisters, absolutely enamored with her. And you couldn’t blame him.

Elain had always been the pretty one of the four of you, a shining diamond even in the filth of poverty.

Nesta was the one with regal beauty, her sharp eyes and the way she carried herself not letting anyone think otherwise.

Your twin, Feyre, was stunning, even if she herself had never seen it, the cleverness in her eyes and quiet grace drawing people’s gaze to her.

And then there was you.

You were… the ugly one. Your mother had said so, even though you were only a child when she passed. Your father had quietly agreed with her. Nesta had mocked your looks when she had had a bad day, which was nearly every day while you had been living in the run down hut after your family lost their fortune. Elain said nothing, but shot pitying looks at you when no suitor asked for a dance while you had still been human, even when it had been a ball thrown in your honor for your birthday. Feyre has been the kindest to you, reminding you that it’s what on the inside that counts…

But that didn’t appear to be so.

Even with a mating bond that you knew should draw Azriel’s attention, his eyes were still glued to Elain. He seemed to be able to breathe only when in her presence, taking in the same air as her.

And in your presence? He couldn’t seem to get away fast enough.

Being dumped into the Cauldron had made both of your sisters even prettier, and Feyre was no exception either after being turned High Fae.

For you, it had made you plain. No longer ugly, unless you counted the still crooked teeth and too small nose and thin mouth.

Just plain.

As a human, you had begged to whatever higher power there was that you could just be plain.

But now that you were, you knew it would never be enough.

Because while Feyre was right, your personality mattered more in a long term relationship than your looks, being pretty drew people in.

Being plain only made you fade into the background.

Azriel laughed at something Elain had said, the sound sending warmth through your body.

It should be you making him laugh, not Elain.

Elain, with her beauty and poise and perfect personality and her ridiculously handsome mate who wanted nothing but her time.

Elain, who seemed to want no one and no thing but your mate.

Your Azriel.

You tore your gaze away from the couple, who you already knew were in a relationship. Elain had confessed it to you a month ago, gushing about how their fifth date had gone and how she thought he was the one. She had told you first, knowing that you wouldn’t tell anyone.

After all, who would you tell?

It’s not like you had any friends in Velaris- or in the human lands, for that matter- and your other two sisters were so preoccupied with their mates and growing personal circles that they hardly had the time to look at you, let alone talk to you.

No. You were alone. You were a lockbox for all of her secrets.

Including that she was planning to officially reject the mating bond once Azriel offered a proposal of marriage.

That had made you sick to your stomach, but you had hidden it deep, deep down in your heart as you congratulated her and faked happiness, asking her when she thought he would propose.

“Any day now, I suspect. Azriel told me that he was planning for the future, and wanted to know if I would like to be a part of it,” she had sighed dreamily. “We just need to tell the family, I know that… Rhys was worried about what us being together would mean for court relations. But he’s just being dramatic, don’t you think?” Her chocolate eyes landed on you, so filled with hope that you couldn’t tell her that he was your mate.

“Yes, he’s just worried, ‘Lain. I’m sure everything will be fine,” you managed to say, and relatively normal at that.

That was last night, and while your eyes had drifted to the carpeting, they shot back upwards at the sound of clinking metal on glass.

Your mate, standing with a flute of sparkling wine in his hand and a knife in his other, had his arm locked with Elain’s.

He cleared his throat once he had everyone’s attention, his eyes passing over everyone-

But you. His eyes skipped over you, even now, with the bond flaring in your chest.

“Elain and I have something to announce, though Rhys already knows what it is.” You heard a hand slap against an arm, Rhys’s faked moan of pain, and Nesta scolding her mate. Azriel smiled at their antics, such a rarity on his face that your heart skipped several beats, leaving you lightheaded.

It most certainly wasn’t because of what they were announcing.

“Elain and I have been dating for the past two months, and we would like to make it official with you all now. In fact, the two of us will be moving into a cottage in town later in the month, and we would like to invite you all to join us for a housewarming party in two weeks.”

The inner circle broke into cheers around you, Cassian immediately encasing his brother in his arms and clapping him on the back.

“Congratulations, brother! I know you’ve waited a long time to find love.”

You remained seated where you were, offering a smile to the happy couple but staying put.

If you stood, you were sure to faint. Or be sick. Or both.

Nesta was the only other person who remained where they were, a skeptical look on her face.

“I hate to be the person to bring the party down…” She started, her voice weary. “But what of your mates? Haven’t you wanted one for your whole life, Azriel? What will happen when you find her?”

“If I find her, I will reject the bond, Nesta. My love for Elain eclipses that of what I thought possible, even with a mating bond. Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister,” Azriel answered, which seemed to be enough to have Nesta’s approval, as she stood and made her way to the couple.

“Then I’m happy for the both of you. But if you ever hurt my sister, you will deal with me,” Nesta warned, ice in her tone.

You didn’t stick around to hear what came next.

Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister.

And of course, he was right. How could you compare to Elain?

She was beautiful, yes, but she was also a perfect match for Azriel. Kind and caring, always ready to help people, not to mention she would be a wonderful mother.

And then there was you. Plain. Boring. Nothing special.

Even the Cauldron hadn’t thought anything of you, leaving you with a High Fae body but no magic to speak of.

You couldn’t even fathom why you had been made Azriel’s mate when Elain was such a wonderful pairing to him, and had the magical abilities to match.

You stumbled your way to the town house, where you had taken up residence once Feyre and Rhys had finished the river house. Once inside you quickly made it to your room and shucked off your clothes after locking the door.

Bare, you stood before the mirror and assessed yourself. It was a habit you had picked up once your family had regained their fortune after Feyre had been stolen away.

One that brought you no comfort, but you needed to do.

Your physique was fine, you had filled out in the past year of being fae.

But there was nothing… special about you. You were medium height. Your chest was a bit smaller than average. Your legs were on the shorter side, making your torso look too long.

And your legs… they were covered in small white scars.

Another habit that you had picked up, this time after turning fae.

And tonight would be no different.

You suppose the one saving grace of being turned fae was your quick healing, letting you destroy your body without anyone knowing.

And no one ever would, seeing as your mate was on his way to being married to your sister.

A sigh left your lips as you turned to your bed, fishing the small blade you kept underneath out from below the mattress.

Tonight would be no different.

Except now you knew that even if you confessed your bond to Azriel, your heart would be torn to shreds no matter what.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

It was two months later, during Starfall, that your world crumbled further.

You had donned a plain dress in a midnight blue, with long flowing sleeves and reaching your feet. You had opted for flats, seeing as no one would pay you enough attention to notice if you were in heels or not.

No, no one would notice you at all.

Because Azriel had a ring in his pocket.

One that you had given him advice on, to choose something Elain would love.

A glutton for punishment, that’s what you were as you gazed at the beautiful couple, clad in matching blue outfits and beaming at one another.

You had attempted to stay home that night, only for Azriel himself to personally fly you up to the House of Wind, insisting that you needed to be there for Starfall.

You knew he meant their engagement, though.

He hadn’t even glanced your way once last Starfall, so you knew it wasn’t that you would be missed by him.

Still, you stood on one of the balconies, watching them. Waiting for the moment that your life would be forever altered, never to have a great love.

Because truly, your one chance at a great love was a mating bond. You knew that no one would choose you to spend their life with, not when you were so plain and boring with nothing to draw people in, to get to know you.

They were dancing together, so wrapped up in each other that it was painful to watch.

And then your feet were moving, leading you straight to them. You met them right as the song finished, the two of them just inches apart.

It stung.

“Azriel, may I speak to you for a moment?” You asked without realizing the words had left your mouth. “Alone, please? It will just be a moment, I promise.”

You cringed at yourself.

What were you doing?

Azriel glanced down at Elain, who nodded with a smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss to Elain’s lips before following you back into the House, away from the commotion.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” Azriel asked in a clipped tone once you were alone, anxiously glancing back to where you had left Elain.

“I…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Are you really going to tell him?

“Well?” He asked impatiently, his shadows swirling around him.

“I… I’m your mate,” you said, the words rushing out all at once, and your tore your eyes away from his face and to the floor.

“You’re… You’re joking, right?” Azriel asked incredulously.

A dagger of ice to the heart, crafted of your own yearning and longing for him, for your mate.

“No, I… It’s true, Azriel. I am your mate.” Your eyes flicked back up to his face after you said it again, but you wished you hadn’t.

Anything would be better than seeing the horror in his eyes, the disgust twisting his features.

The dagger, forced in further by a hand smacking the hilt.

“You?” Azriel laughed. “Why would the Cauldron make you my mate?”

Twisting, bleeding, shredding your soul apart even as you felt the bond flare to life on his end, the very slightest stumble as he regarded you.

“I… I don’t know…” You whispered, barely audible.

“You’re not my mate,” Azriel said, stepping away from you. “You were never going to be my mate. You’re a fine enough person, sure, but how could you compare to Elain?” He shook his head, snickering to himself. “I suppose these five hundred years of waiting were for nothing. I’ll tell Cassian or Rhys take you back to the town house. Just…” He sighed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me, hmm?”

And with that, the bond between the two of you was shredded, a wounded cry leaving your lips as you sank to the ground, clutching your chest where it used to reside, glowing brightly and giving you a reason to go on.

“I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out of anything. Goodbye, Y/N.”

You barely heard him walk away, so overwhelmed with pain.

Why me?

Why was I his mate?

Why didn’t I just drown in the Cauldron?

With a great deal of trying, you managed to hoist yourself back onto your feet, stumbling your way to one of the unoccupied balconies, still clutching your chest.

Your gaping, empty chest.

Because Azriel still had your heart. He had shredded it, mangled it beyond believe but it still resided with him, leaving you with nothing but a hole where it used to be.

Your legs crashed into the edge of the balcony, your hands flying to the stone to steady you.

But it didn’t help, everything was still spinning, blood rushing in your ears as your heart kept beating somehow, somehow still physically intact even as you felt it was being ripped from your chest over and over and over.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t live.

The very fact that Elain was so casual, so blasé about shredding a bond to bits had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your sister.

How could she condemn someone to this existence?

Because already, you weren’t living.

This couldn’t be living.

It couldn’t be.

You risked a peak over the edge, spying the sharp, jagged rocks below.

If you weren’t living now…

Before you could second guess your choice, you lifted yourself onto the balcony, letting your legs dangle for a moment.

Then you swung them over the stone, to the side that had nothing to catch you.

Well, nothing but the cold embrace of death.

Which at this point would be a welcome reprieve from the fiery hot grief flooding through you, grief at the bond that was never given a chance, a moment to be considered.

But perhaps that was all the consideration you needed. To know that you would only have been a burden of mate to the male you had fallen for.

You took one last, jagged breath into your lungs before you slid off the smooth stone, air rushing past you and-

This must be what it feels like to fly.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

[goldsbitch]

Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!

So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?

Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:

omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.

I'll drive

"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.

Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.

Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.

"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.

"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.

"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.

"No, I do not know how to drive-"

"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.

The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.

She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."

Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.

"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.

"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.

"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.

"So what kind of a car it?"

The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.

//

Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.

She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.

Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.

//

"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.

"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.

Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.

Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.

"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.

"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.

"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.

Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.

Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.

"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.

To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.

"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."

"Feisty..."

And that was when the line got crossed.

"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.

Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.

She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.

"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.

"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.

Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.

After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.

"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.

"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.

"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.

"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."

His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."

She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."

She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"

"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.

This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.

Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.

A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.

"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.

"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.

//

"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.

"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."

"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"

"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.

And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"

"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.

"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."

"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.

The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.

She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.

Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.

"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"

"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."

"You and Lando?"

Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."

She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"

"He let you drive?"

"Forced-"

"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.

Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."

There was only laughter on the other end of the call.

"Y/N, who are you calling?"

Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."

Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.

"Oscar says hi!"

Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.

"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.

"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.

Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"

"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.

"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.

"I hate you," he said with a smile.

"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.

//

After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.

"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.

"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."

The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.

"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."

Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."

He see right though her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."

She bit her tongue. "Yup."

It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.

[fandom-go-round]

bg3 companions + their reactions to finding out they knocked up fem tav? 👀 (for the ladies we can say they're trans or it's magic)

I wrote my boy first because he’s the best, can you guess who it is? Hint: He’s my first romance. No guess for you lovely requestor because you know too much LOL

Also I’m ignoring cannon endings here because we want to end up happy with babies. No angst here, begone!

Warnings: Implied Sex, Implied Sexual Situations, Pregnant Tav, Babies, Pregnancy Thing (Morning Sickness)

Astarion:

At first, he thinks that you’re joking. Vampires can’t have children after all, that’s a pretty basic fact. When you’re insistent, part of him wants to accuse you of cheating, as much as it pains him. That’s a part of him still tainted by Cazador and he muffles it as best he can. Astarion is going to insist you go to a healer together; if you’re not pregnant, something must be going on you need help with. When Shadowheart confirms you’re with child, he’s at a loss. Astarion doesn’t know what to say, truly.

After the initial shock, he goes on the hunt for anything and everything about human-vampire babies. The records are hard to find and some are locked far, far away but he finds them all. He can be very persuasive after all. It’s in one of these books that he figures out how you two made a baby; he’s going to be very careful taking your blood from now on. Speaking of, Astarion will refuse to drink from you while you pregnant, no ifs ands or buts. This is a firm boundary for him, even if you smell more and more delicious the farther along you get.

The pregnancy is hard and Astarion is afraid he’s going to lose you. The birth is especially gruesome and it’s only because of Shadowheart and Halsin that you’re alive. He wants to resent the baby for how you suffered but he can’t, they’re just too perfect. He’s afraid of getting too close, of tainting this little thing but you refuse to let him be apart. The first time he holds your child he weeps and it’s over. Astarion is always going to struggle with his emotions and feelings about being a father but never about how much he loves them. Also, he’s completely in charge of their wardrobe; you’re going to have the best-looking baby in the entire city hands down.

Gale:

Gale was always on the fence about kids. Sure they’re cute but they’re also loud and he struggles to take care of himself, let alone a little squishy creature. That doesn’t mean he’s upset when you tell him you’re pregnant, not at all. He’s just doing furious calculations in his mind and it looks like he’s crashed. Give his brain a moment to reset and he’ll give you a large grin and lean down to kiss you. Tara is the first person the two of you tell and she’s excited, vowing to be the baby’s protector. Gale loves her even more which is quite the feat. His mother is next and she immediately starts offering help. He just can’t get over how perfect his family is, it feels like a dream sometimes. 

He takes a very technical approach to your pregnancy, like everything. Gale is reading all of the baby books and using all of the tracking charts he can get his hands on. He even goes to talk to midwives, wanting an expert opinion. It’s very sweet of him but you have to remind him that all babies grow at their own pace. He just wants to be the best dad he can and for him, that means more information. It is funny to watch him change a diaper for the first time but he never backs down from a challenge! Maybe he can use magic…?

He’s a mess when you actually go into labor. Gale swore he would be with you the entire time and then passed out in the final moments. He wakes up to a healthy baby and immediately starts crying. He enjoys being a dad, especially teaching your child new things. Your kid is going to have a huge curious streak that Gale will feed with vigor. He doesn’t consciously want your kid to be a wizard but would be overjoyed to have more in common with them.

Wyll:

Wyll is over the moon, as surprised as he is. Kids are something that he’s always wanted to have eventually and with you, his favorite person? What could go wrong? Of course, he’ll hear out your concerns if you have any and can have difficult conversations around pregnancy and child birth. One benefit of being a noble is that he has resources to help; whatever you want will be yours. He’s nervous to tell his dad but once the older man starts to tear up, he knows that he’s made a good choice. Wyll wants his family to be whole and happy.

He’s a chronic hoverer, as cute and frustrating as that is. Even in the early stages of pregnancy Wyll will try to do everything for you; moving a trunk? He’s got that, don’t strain yourself. Trying to cook dinner? Let him help you love. Be firm that you can do things yourself and he’ll back off. Just know that when you turn to ask him for help he’ll be waiting in the wings to be your hero. He’s also a pro at helping you figure out cravings. Wyll won’t complain if you wake him up in the middle of the night to go get something from the kitchen. He loves wrapping his arms around you from behind and rocking together; you being in his arms is his favorite thing.

He’s a trooper during the birth, being there the entire time. It takes a long time and he does worry but he encourages you and is your personal cheerleader. He can’t stop smiling after the baby is born, tracing their cheeks and forehead. As much as it would be funny to say Wyll struggles with being a dad, he really doesn’t. He loves your child so much, you’re surprised he never brought up kids in the first place. He is very much the definition of doting father but don’t let that fool you, he takes no disrespect, especially towards you. You’re the ruler of the house and Wyll is your backup. He’s the perfect mix of fun and strict dad. Now if he can convince you to have others…

Karlach:

Karlach is over the moon when you find our you’re pregnant. She had noticed you felt off and encouraged you to go to the doctor. Neither of you were expecting the baby news, as silly as it sounds. That doesn’t stop her form immediately lifting you up with a loud ‘whoop!’ and spinning your around the room. She loves babies! She loves you! This is going to be great.

She insists on redoing a room just for the baby. Even if their crib is going to be in your room for the first few months, Karlach wants your kid to have their own space. She paints the walls, builds all the furniture, everything. She asks for you opinion on decorations and doesn’t do anything without checking with you first but it’s her labor of love. It’s also her project for when she gets anxious thinking about the future. What is something goes wrong with her heart? What if something is wrong with the baby? What is the birth is too much for you? All of these thoughts get washed away in making the baby’s room perfect and then she goes to talk to you.

Karlach helps as much as she can during the birth aka you kick her (lovingly) into the hall to go grab towels so she stops hovering. When she gets back the baby is almost here and there’s no time to panic, just watch with wide eyes. She thinks you’re even more of a badass for going through all that and asks to hold the baby fist. Karlach cries holding them; they’re so cute and small and they’re the perfect mix of the two of you. She’s defiantly going to be the fun mom and there will be moments where it feels like you have two kids to scold. She takes safety very seriously, however, and is the first to lecture about stranger danger. Your kid will never feel unloved or unsafe, Karlach swears it on her life. This is her family now and no one else can have them.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel struggles with the news that you’re having a baby. Partly because she never thought that she could have kids and the other part because she’s terrified about being a mom. She wasn’t raised in a traditional Faerunian way; no where on the continent can be compared to being raised Gith. She needs time to process on her own and it’ll be a few days before she comes back ready to talk. Take her concerns seriously and, if you truly want to keep the baby, she’ll raise them with you. She loves you after all.

It takes her a bit to understand all the changes your body is going through. It’s horrifying and amazing to watch your stomach swell and she loves gently cradling your bump as it grows. She doesn’t know what to do about the crying, except when someone else makes you cry. Then it’s easy: she wants to kill them. That usually makes you laugh and you’re able to talk her out of bodily harm. You do have some nice shop discounts now. Lae’el is very much your guard dog and she fulfills her position with pride.

The entire birthing process just shows Lae’zel that you’re the strongest person she knows. She’s completely impressed by how you handle everything and has a new respect for moms everywhere. She still thinks it’s gross and inefficient but badass all the same. Lae’zel is a strict mom but soft in her own way. She’s still learning to be kind to herself and the world around her. Your child will never feel the brunt of her frustration or confusion; they will, however, be able to swing a sword much too young. She beams with pride the first time your child beheads a training dummy and you know, deep deep down, that the two of them going to be trouble.

Shadowheart:

She starts to notice the signs before you do, honestly. At first it’s little things; you’re tired quicker, you’re more sensitive to certain smells. The big one is that you start to get morning sickness, frequently. Shadowheart finally sits you down after the fifth morning in a row over a bucket and checks you over. You’re pregnant all right, not doubt there. She’s going to be as surprised as you; you were both good about protection. Surprise baby!

She’s fairly neutral about kids. She never thought that she would have any, serving Shar, but now there’s a little more appeal to them. The pooping and crying she could live without but the idea of there being someone made up of the two of you? Shadowheart likes the idea more than she would admit out loud. She starts researching pregnancy healing the midwifery right away; she doesn’t have a lot of expertise with babies but she is a healer.

Shadowheart insists on delivering your baby herself. She wants to be a part of this and while you’re going to be doing the hard part, she wants to support you. If you have an issue, she will relent but has to be in the room. Your delivery is flawless and as she holds the bloody baby in her hands, she feels full. Of love and hope and excitement, all those emotions she once would have sworn off. For the first time since you’ve found out you’re pregnant, she’s excited to be a mom. She’s a strict but loving mom, teasing her kid and embarrassing them in public (just a little, like a cheek pinch). Shadowheart loves singing to your kids, something neither of you knew until now. Your house is full of love and laughter and singing, just perfect.

[irndad]

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.” 

[earthtooz]

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child &lt;3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 

(if only he knew). 

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away. 

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[butterfluffy]

strawhats + d. mihawk with a healer!s/o

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· what would it be like being a healer, and an s/o to these people?

⠀⠀➧ unlabeled | strawhats, d. mihawk (separate)  x gn!reader | multi-character headcanons

⠀⠀➧ warnings — idk, none, ig? mistakes may be present tho.. so do ignore them, thanks.

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed, sorryyyyy..!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: finally writing to clear out my inbox aAaaaAahhHhhHHHHh

req by @n0body-1mportant

MONKEY D. LUFFY

This trouble maker captain right here is always injured lol

So that said, you always go on healing your big, trouble maker baby

Wild card : Though he can take punches, kicks, and even stabs without screaming in pain—Luffy starts whining like a poor puppy everytime he comes to ask you to patch him up.

“Y/n...! Look, look, I'm heavily injured! I'm reaallyy hurt! Won't you heal me!? And, and! Won't you give me a kiss, too, for doing a great job in beating that bastard's ass!?”

RORONOA ZORO

Same as his captain, the first mate is always injured—due to fights, his harsh training, and other causes

..Despite always being injured, Zoro hates getting himself patched up. But if you're the one doing the healing so he could get better, it's all good for him!

Wild card : Zoro doesn't care if he's greatly bleeding out during a fight—but outside a fight, if he got the smallest cut, Zoro immediately dashes to you to get himself healed up..!

“Hey, so, I was peeling myself apples a while ago using that ero-cook's damned knife—now I got this cut. Heal it now, and eat these with me, yeah?”

NAMI

Nami very much hates getting herself injured, especially getting scars

So Nami is quick to rush to you to get her injury fixed

Wild card : this happens quite rarely, since as said above, she hates getting scars—but, nami sometimes get herself injured on 'places' to see you flushed when she asks you to heal it~

“Babyyy..! Look, look! Look at my perfectly beautiful legs here! They've got a scar! Their beauty has been tarnished, so, please.. Take care of them, yeah~?”

USOPP

Usopp avoids getting himself injured at all cost.

And when he does get injured, he screeches as he dash towards you with tears on his eyes, asking you to heal his injury ASAP.

Wild card : I have this headcanon for Usopp where he's a real clutz, so he always has an injury here and there, and wounds that he doesn't know where it came from.

“Y-Y/n..! W..When I woke up, I saw this new wound on my arm..! I..I don't know where it came from—it's probably from the spirits that I've angered, waaahh!!”

(it was caused by Luffy. He was dreaming that Usopp was a piece of meat, and bit him during their sleep. 💀)

VINSMOKE SANJI

As the left hand man of the ship's captain, Sanji is always out on a fight to support his captain, so injuries are unavoidable.

He's developed durability to the beating up he receives and shows it off his coolness to you, BUT AFTER THE FIGHT, he whines.

Wild card : This perv right here always has a nosebleed everytime you go patch up his beaten up ass, causing you more trouble.

“My loveee..! I'm injured, I'm badly hurt..! Everything's so painful, so please, heal me with your magic kiss—*you kiss him* *he nosebleeds*”

NICO ROBIN

Robin isn't a big fan of getting injuries during combat, or whenever.

Though despite being injured, she handles it like a Queen! (You don't.)

Wild card : As said above she handles her injuries like the Queen she is, BUT, you don't—you're more panicked when she's injured as she stays calm while telling you some morbid jokes.

“Darling.. Please calm down. I'm not going to die, you know? All I got is this small scratch the size of a severed finger, so, don't worry about me too much, okay?”

FRANKY

SUPEEEERRRRR Franky right here who's a barely gets himself injured.

↑ Why? Because, he's a cyborg, a cool one who will barely get a scratch..!

Wild card : ...When Franky does get injured for some reason being during a fight or where else, he starts crying like a small child to you as he asks you to heal him...!

“Waaahh! This damned injury hurts so bad..! It's SUPEEEERRRR painful, I'm gonna cry! Y/n, Y/n, quick, quickly, heal me and ease my pain..!!”

DRACULE MIHAWK

The greatest swordsman? Injured?? Pfft, not a chance.

Though when he's going against strong fellas, he gets some scratches here and there, which he deals with by himself—not wanting to bother you.

Wild card : Mihawk doesn't show it, but, he loves, and finds it cute when you insist on helping him with his injury that he already had managed, or can obviously handle fixing by himself.

“My dear... I already fixed my injury, so don't worry about it. But.. If you really insist on using your ability to speed up the healing process.. Alright. I'll let you.”

© butterfluffy 2023

⠀⠀ʚїɞ · likes, comments, reblogs, and/or feedbacks are highly appreciated!

[sansaorgana]

— THE FAVOURITE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — As Feyd-Rautha's favourite concubine, your position is threatened after his affair with Lady Margot.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Once again I couldn't help myself and created some twisted & toxic dynamic between Feyd and The Reader full of mind games and scheming lol 😏 Thank you @little-diable for "letting me" to write this story. 🌹 I reached out to her after getting this request since she has a similar (and amazing) fanfic – "Guilt".

WARNINGS — Reader is some sort of a slave/servant, harm to Lady Margot and her child mentioned, mentions of sexual activities including non/dub-con (no actual smut)

WORD COUNT — 3,520

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE FAVOURITE

Being Feyd-Rautha’s favourite concubine made your position on Giedi Prime secure. Coming from nothing and having no drop of noble blood flowing in your veins, you ended up with a luxurious bedroom and your own team of servants. Baron Harkonnen allowed this arrangement only because of the little agreement between you and him – you were to spy on his nephew and your servants were doing the job when you personally could not. The stench of schemes and lies surrounded the fortress like a thick fog.

So, when your lover didn’t come to you after his own birthday party – even though you were waiting for him all dressed up and prepared – you wanted to know why. Your servants came back to you quickly, bringing you the news of Feyd-Rautha spending the night in a guest wing. In the bedroom of Lady Margot Fenring, to be exact. A known Bene Gesserit sister.

Concubines had no right to be jealous. They knew their place. Noblemen couldn’t marry a random woman they favoured just because of some sort of affection or sentiment. They had to keep their options open in case a political union would be proposed. And apart from that, noblemen had their responsibilities when it came to the Bene Gesserit order and their own plans and schemes. You knew enough to have a feeling what Lady Margot wanted from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. To secure his bloodline.

Concubines didn’t exist to secure bloodlines – unless the circumstances were desperate. But usually, concubines existed to bear bastards.

You tore your dress off of your body, removed the jewellery and let it fall down on the cold, black marble as it shattered. The servants watched with terror in their eyes as tiny pieces of gemstones scattered all over the floor. You told them all to leave but they were petrified. So you yelled, you gave an order. And only when you were left alone, you allowed yourself to lay on your bed and cry.

You had sacrificed nearly everything to be in this position. Losing the title of Feyd-Rautha’s favourite concubine meant death to you. You knew what he was doing to the toys he was getting bored of. In fact, you often encouraged those acts. Now, you had to face a threat of becoming the next tossed aside pet.

You were finishing your breakfast when Feyd entered your chambers without a word or a knock upon the doors. He was the only person allowed such entrance and all your servants stiffened at the sight of him, bowing their heads and taking a few steps back. You decided to ignore him as you were sipping on your beverage and staring at the large painting on the wall in front of you. It was a landscape from your homeplanet. Or rather, how it had used to look like before The Harkonnen invasion and occupation.

As a little girl, you had been taken with others to Giedi Prime and forced to become a servant. Your hair had been shaved, the back of your neck tattooed with a Harkonnen sigil like you were a slave. Slaves died like flies on this court. Befriending the young na-baron had been your only chance of survival. And once you both had been old enough, the friendship developed into a romance. But sometimes, when you were forgetting yourself – too drunk on your own influence these days – you would touch the back of your neck and trace the tattooed mark. You had long hair again, covering it from the world. But you knew it was there. You were only a servant that had been promoted because of a spoiled boy’s whim.

“I have news for you, pet,” Feyd-Rautha stood above you with a proud smirk, showing off his black teeth.

You continued to ignore him and it made the smile turn into a frown.

“What is it?” He asked but you still refused to lay your eyes on him.

“I know where you were last night,” you finally decided to address the matter as you lazily leaned back on the chair and looked up at his face. He snorted at you.

“Not the first time I spent a night with another woman. Having a title of my favourite whore means that you are one of many – not the only one,” he reminded you and your jaw clenched at his choice of words.

“Not every night is your birthday. And not every woman is a Bene Gesserit witch,” you stood up angrily. “And I am not a whore.”

“Concubine is only a nicer way to put it but you’re big enough to handle the truth, pet,” Feyd was angered, you could sense that. But he was still amused by your little tantrum.

“Leave us,” you ordered to the servants and they bowed down before walking out of the chambers as fast as possible.

“What do you expect me to say? That I’m sorry?” Feyd’s voice was full of contempt as he observed your pacing around with squinted eyes. “I am not tied to you by any word nor oath.”

“What did she want?” You asked him and he shut his mouth. “She wanted to secure the bloodline, did she not?”

Feyd did not say anything and that was an answer for you. You nodded and walked away to stand by the window and gaze upon the cityscape of Giedi Prime. 

“I didn’t have a choice. And I probably will never even see that child. They mean nothing to me and will never be recognised as my heir. What does it matter to you?” Feyd tried to explain himself awkwardly as he sat by the table and put his feet up on the surface in a careless manner.

“Did she use The Voice on you?” You turned around to look at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yes,” Feyd nodded, looking away. “Does it change anything?”

“It changes everything to me,” you approached him to stand behind and put your hands on his tense shoulders. “They keep using you. Your uncle all this time, now her. And you just shake it off and pretend it’s no big deal but it is, Feyd-Rautha. Have you ever been able to make your own decision? Even choosing me as your favourite had to be accepted by The Baron.”

“Don’t pretend to suddenly care about me,” Feyd barked at you. “You’re spying on me for him.”

“Because I have to,” you whispered.

“And I have to do some things, too, which makes us fair,” he shrugged his arms and you let your hands fall to your sides again. You watched him reach for an orange as he began to peel it slowly in silence.

He was right but it was not enough for you to know that he was right. You were still raging inside; filled with jealousy and betrayal even though you had no right to feel these things. Swiftly, you reached out for a short knife that Feyd always carried by his waist. He was so relaxed and trustful around you that his reflexes didn’t catch on your actions. 

You pressed the tip of the blade to the back of his neck, the exact same spot where your tattoo was.

“I wish I could mark you as my own, too,” you whispered and he only chuckled, not fearing the knife at all.

“Do it then, pet. If that brings you relief, that is,” he dared you. “The pain will be welcomed.”

“I can’t do it,” your hand shivered as you lowered it.

“Then don’t threaten me with empty promises,” Feyd barked as he turned around rapidly and grabbed your wrist. He twisted it painfully, making you drop the knife as you hissed out of pain. “I don’t belong to you,” he reminded, his voice cold and sharp. You winced at the pain shooting up your arm but refused to show weakness.

“And I don't belong to you either,” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt you had been suppressing. “If I am to live here my whole life like a slave, kill me then.”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at each other with hatred and passion as the tension crackled between you two like electricity. Finally, Feyd released your wrist with a dismissive shove, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Fine," he spat. "I am to inherit Arrakis and you are not coming with me. Stay here and rot, find yourself a new Master or leave, I do not care," he informed you and left your chambers just like that.

You were still standing there, petrified, as you blinked a few times before the meaning of his words made sense to you. He was abandoning you… but you couldn’t blame him. You showed weakness of your jealousy and that was something concubines were not supposed to do. Instead of playing your cards right, you snapped. And now there was no turning back from that mistake.

Your privileges were not gone overnight but everyone could see that something was wrong. While Feyd-Rautha was preparing to leave for Arrakis, you were not preparing at all. Your servants were nervous since their position depended on your own. And you were trying to work on a plan to be back in your lover’s good favours.

But The Baron was quicker than that. He requested your presence a few days before his nephew’s departure. You expected a punishment but, surprisingly, he was not as angry as you thought him to be.

“You lost the grip,” he informed you in his raspy voice, taking a puff of his pipe.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” you bowed down, nervously; humiliated.

“I should get rid of you. I’ve heard my nephew granted you freedom but we both know you have nowhere to go anyway,” The Baron pointed out and you swallowed thickly at his words.

“If I was only given one more chance…” You dared to look up.

“That is what I want to grant you,” he nodded as your eyes widened. Baron Harkonnen was not known for being generous or forgiving. “You see, on Arrakis I will need a spy next to Feyd-Rautha. Someone I trust. And you… We’ve worked for quite a long time now. You have never disappointed me nor showed any sign of disloyalty towards me. Looking for someone new, especially for such an important task… It would not be advised. I need you on Arrakis with Feyd-Rautha,” The Baron pointed his chubby hand at you.

“I understand, my Lord. But… He does not want me there. Not as his concubine at least,” you looked down, ashamed that you had to admit it out loud.

“That boy will soon start missing you. But we can’t wait until then,” The Baron agreed. “Since he has carelessly given you freedom already and you’re no longer a servant, I can promote you, child,” The Baron hummed to himself as you tilted your head out of curiosity – Feyd-Rautha’s habit you had picked up from him a long time ago.

Because your whole life had been about being his companion. It was about mimicking his behaviour and learning how to make him happy. Now, when he was somehow gone from your daily life routine, it felt oddly empty and pointless. It was painful to realise that Feyd-Rautha was your reason to live and your position as his concubine defined not only your position on Giedi Prime but also your whole life and personality.

“You will be sent to Arrakis as The Fremen Expert,” The Baron informed you and you couldn’t help letting out a little laugh.

“The Fremen Expert, my Lord? I do know nothing of them and their customs,” you reminded him.

“And we do not care about them nor their customs. We want nothing but annihilation of their race. But what we also want… What we need… Is your presence on Arrakis. Feyd-Rautha will be informed that you must take part in every council, in every meeting; making decisions alongside his generals,” The Baron whispered and you straightened yourself, suddenly feeling a bolt of electricity going through your veins. From feeling like a beaten dog, you began to feel confidence and pride in your new role, even if the title was made up for The Baron’s scheming plan.

“Yes, my Lord,” you bowed down with all respect.

“Now, go, prepare yourself for the trip,” he dismissed you and you turned around to walk away with your head held high.

Feyd-Rautha kept avoiding you but those few times you saw him in the corridor, he was giving you hateful looks. He had to be not very pleased with his uncle’s decision. You gained the courage to finally talk to him in private when you were on the ship to Arrakis, locked together in space with nowhere to run. Forced to spend time together since the ship was not as huge as the Giedi Prime fortress.

You chose the nighttime for this. In the evenings he was more vulnerable – you had learnt that over the years spent by his side. You entered his room on the ship without any guard stopping you as they knew your role in this mission. The Baron had given them direct orders to never stop you when you were about to spy on the na-baron.

Feyd was not in the room yet, so you waited, sitting on the armchair and nervously playing with the rings on your fingers.

“What are you doing here?” You finally heard his raspy voice after the doors opened. Feyd walked inside, visibly irritated at the sight of you. “Congratulations, you’re a full-time spy now. What a promotion,” he sneered. “Still his puppet.”

“And you’re not? His puppet?” You sneered back. “How does it feel to not be able to get rid of your own concubine just because The Baron does not approve? I told you. You can’t even choose the whores for yourselves,” you stood up to approach him but he walked away.

“You’ve sealed your fate, pet. Once I become The Baron myself, I am going to kill you,” he ignored your presence and began undressing to change into his nighttime attire. As if you were only an air in the room but it also meant that he still felt comfortable around you and allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to step out of his armour and expose. He trusted you, still.

“It’s not like I’m that valuable to your uncle. If you killed me now, he would be frustrated. But he wouldn’t even punish you for that,” you shrugged your arms. “So why won’t you kill me now?” You teased as you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Come here,” Feyd ordered as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

You walked up to him, a little scared of what was inside his head at that moment but you tried not to show it. You had mastered the act of not showing fear around him already. He hated cowardice and vulnerability only inspired him to be even more cruel.

“Since I can’t get rid of you, there’s still use of you, is it not?” He smirked as he looked up at you. “Please me, pet,” he ordered.

“I am no longer your concubine,” you pointed out, trying to keep a poker face on and a straight back. The truth was, you missed him. You missed his touch, you missed the intimacy, you missed how safe you felt with his arms around you. You missed the nights when he would fall asleep in your bed. But you couldn’t fall back so easily. He liked to chase, he liked to play. And you had gotten the title of his favourite because you knew how to provide it. “You dismissed me. I am The Fremen Expert now,” you added and he laughed contemptuously.

“The Fremen Expert, and what is that exactly, my little one?” He teased, pulling you closer by your waist. “And what do you know of these savages? You’ve been trained in different arts.”

“What sort of arts, na-baron?” You asked, placing your fingers on his muscular shoulders to keep steady on your feet.

“Pleasure,” he sat you down on his lap and you joined your hands together behind his neck. “I missed your cunt,” he whispered into your ear, his fingers pulled on the fabric of your dress around your hips, exposing your thighs.

“You forget yourself, my Lord,” you teased with a smirk as he looked up, questioningly. “You see, in your anger, you set me free. You released me and I am no longer your servant. I am my own person now,” you reminded him.

“I am still your lord na-baron,” he reminded you. “And I shall do as I please with you.”

“But having me back in your bed will cost you. I am not free of charge anymore,” you stopped his hands and watched his expression carefully. His jaw clenched and his gaze hardened with anger and curiosity.

“What do you want?” He asked harshly.

“Depends on how much you are willing to pay to feel my sweet cunt again,” you tilted your head.

You knew that it was just a game and he knew it, too. Because he didn’t need your permission. Feyd-Rautha didn’t care if you were his servant or a free woman now. He didn’t care if you gave him your permission or not. He was free to take what he wanted. Because that was his nature and that was the harsh reality of The Harkonnens.

“You want money?” Feyd could not hide the sheer disappointment in his voice. He had thought better of you. But you only laughed at his accusation.

You needed to take a deep breath in to say out loud what you wanted. It required lots of bravery for a woman in your position to say.

“I want to bear your heir,” you told him.

“Impossible,” Feyd pushed you aside on the mattress as he moved away from you. “Is it part of his plan?”

“He doesn’t know. He would kill me if he knew,” you assured him, truthfully. “He wants you for Princess Irulan, I think.”

“He mentioned to me he would make me an Emperor. But he didn’t mention how. I don’t think I have to marry her. We are strong enough to just take the throne with force,” Feyd told you. “I don't want her. But you cannot bear me heirs. Only bastards. Is that what you want? To push out my bastards?” He asked as he hovered over you to intimidate you, looking intensely into your eyes.

“Bastards, then. Let it be,” you nodded, swallowing thickly, confusing him. “I’d rather give you bastards and live on crumbs than to be dismissed like in the past few weeks.”

Suddenly, his face softened, confusing you as much as you were confusing him. Feyd caressed your cheek with gentleness that was unusual for him.

“Do you know why you are my favourite?” He asked in a whisper.

“Because I know how to play the way you like it,” you answered.

“No,” he shook his head. “Because you actually like me.”

You didn’t know what to say to this confession. It caught you off guard, surely. And Feyd leaning in to place a kiss upon your lips – a soft, delicate kiss that you had only shared a few times before – that only intensified the feeling of confusion.

“It’s cute to see you jealous, pet,” he breathed out after breaking the unusual kiss. “I swore to myself a long time ago I would never marry even if he forced me to. And my only heirs will be the bastards you bear me.”

You felt warmth in your cheeks at his words. Realising that what you had been asking for did not have to be said out loud. For him it had been obvious for a long time. It was the only way for Feyd-Rautha and you were a fool to ever feel jealous.

“All you have to do,” he added in a mysterious whisper, leaning in to steal another kiss, “is to help me with bringing him down.”

“You fool,” you giggled and cupped his face delicately, confusing him. “It has always been my plan,” you assured him. “And once I have the power of The Emperor’s Concubine, I will hunt down the Bene Gesserit witch and her spawn for I am the only one who shall bear your bastards.”

“You were such an innocent child when you came to Giedi Prime,” Feyd sighed but not without an excited sparkle in his cold eyes. “And look what a monster I have made of you, pet.”

You chuckled at that, relieved to have him back and much more than that – already planning out a future that was even more promising than in your most secret daydreams.

“You taught me well, Master,” you only said and pulled him back down. “But next time you put a child in another woman, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to father any more,” you threatened sweetly before a passionate kiss.

MASTERLIST

[tonysbed]

close friends ||

Charles Leclerc x Famous!reader

Summary: Charles simply wanted to post you on his close friends insta story, which didn’t go as planned..

A/n: I’m obsessed with smau‘s.Bet you couldn’t tell.

This can’t be read as a one shot i think?

Part 1 | Part 2

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Y/ndowney

Liked by robertdowneyjr, charles_leclerc and 2,389,397 others

Y/ndowney mom and dad btw

robertdowneyjr @/susandowney we just got replaced

taylorswift love you my child!

y/ndowney love you too mom

User27 Cute and all but who’s the second ticket for?

user38 some people claim that charles was with her but there were no pics

user27 oh well:/

user89 I mean he basically confirmed it with his story lol

y/nismywife love them all sm😭

User82 she’s just ignoring all the rumours and goes to the eras tour😭 Queen tbh

Robertdowneyjr

Liked by y/ndowney, charles_leclerc and 2,839,268 others

robertdowneyjr 56!

User892 THAT IS CHARLES IN THE FAM PICTURE OMG

Y/ndowney old.

robertdowneyjr not to old to ground you

y/ndowney you wouldn’t dare

robertdowneyjr wanna bet?

Chrisevans Happy Birthday Tin man!

robertdowneyjr thanks americas ass 😘

chrisevans 🙄

y/nmywife CHARLES ON THE PIC WJEHEIEV

User290 Tom, charles and y/n. I’m dying😭

Zendaya Congrats 🩷

*liked by robertdowneyjr

leclerc_pascale Happy Birthday!!

robertdowneyjr thank you 😎

user89 now his mom is here. I’m dead.

-

Y/ndowney

Liked by robertdowneyjr, charles_leclerc and 1,381,682 others

Y/ndowney he’s dad approved😙 (and an idiot but don’t tell him i said that)

tagged charles_leclerc

tchalamet call me matchmaker

y/ndowney oh hush chalamet

tchalamet 😘

charles_leclerc Je t'aime mon coeur ❤️

y/ndowney ❤️

robertdowneyjr first decent guy, I swear

Y/ndowney DAD GOD LORD

comments are limited

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Charles_leclerc

Liked by y/ndowney, robertdowneyjr and 2,729,268 others

Charles_leclerc her mum calls me love, her dad calls me son Xx

tagged y/ndowney

Y/ndowney my dad adopts so many children it’s crazy

charles_leclerc im the best addition

y/ndowney true

tomholland excuse me?!

y/ndowney I’ll always chose him over you duh

tomholland Im deeply hurt.

robertdowneyjr 😎

*liked by charles_leclerc and y/ndowney

leclerc_pascale tu ferais mieux de l'épouser!!

charles_leclerc c'est le plan maman ;)

*liked by leclerc_pascale and y/ndowney

comments are limited

it’s not so long but..yeah:)

[urfavlarry]

Can I request a Tyler ( or Aiden but please Tyler) x reader fic? Reader has lived in the phantom realm for almost her entire life and because of that she is always sleepy and hungry since she doesn't get transported back like the others. But she is a great fighter. Fem or gn reader please and could you please write a scenario too? Thanks you and a you can ignore this if you like ❤

warnings: bad grammar, swearing, mentions of reader not eating, reader has some form of insomnia(??) gender neutral reader

A/N: I tried to make sure that this is gender neutral but if I made any mistakes then please correct me! Also I’m new to the fandom so if I got anything incorrect then again, don’t be afraid to correct me.

I hope I wrote everything the way you wanted and that you will request again some time<3

Tyler & Aiden (seperate) x gn!reader

——————————————

You’ve been stuck in this place for a while, ever since you were about 13. One day you were playing outisde in the yard, when you saw this strange creature. You being a naive child went towards it and tried talking to it. You weren’t really the type of child to be scared of everything and you thought it was just your imagination. When you when to confront it, you collapsed. After that you woke up in this strange place, an exact copy of the real world yet the sky was red and strange creatures started to appear everywhere. Your big brother would get into fights often, so he taught you some self defense so you managed to survive, quickly seeking shelter. At your age many kids would panic and probably wouldn’t survive, but you pulled through. Ever since then you kinda were afraid to sleep, scared that the creatures would somehow manage to get to you and hurt you. Same with food, you rarely went out to get food, only living off what people left in their houses, well at least the houses that weren’t infested with phantoms.

You and your parents would go out into the wilderness often, so you had necessary survival skills and had enough supplies for the first few weeks of being there. You learned to survive the phantom attacks and you have a pretty well built shelter. In the present time you met a group of people your age. You almost collapsed from how happy you were to finally have human interaction after so many dreadful years of being in this horrific place. They accepted you into the group, some being a bit skeptical at first but changed their mind once you told them your story.

You were a more skilled person in the group, taking the role as leader with a girl named Ashlyn. You moved your things from your shelter that wasn’t that far from the “graveyard” as they liked to call it. After a few hours you were done taking your things there and saw they weren’t there anymore. Your eyes widen and you start to panic; “Did they leave me?” “Was I just imagining it?” “Did they get hurt by the phantoms?” You run into one of the buses and see a note on one of the seats. It explained that they have a different experience in this realm. They go to this realm at midnight for 7 hours, then wake up in the human realm. You couldn’t help but envy them but you were glad nothing happened to them and that you weren’t imagining it.

——————————————

Tyler Hernández

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

To say that Tyler would literally turn into your second mother that would be an understatement.

He would constantly bring you food when he could and when he was in the living world he would make you some food before he went to school so you don’t starve while they are away. (things that are moved to a certian place in the living world appear in the “phantom realm”

You two would definitely start dating after some time but you would be the one making the first move lol

He would have some trust issues but once he warms up to you he’s cool

Taylor would definitely be happy that her twin brother is finally happy with someone (even if he can’t see them whenever he wants)

He would cuddle you in the bus and protect you with his life fr

He would be super caring and would scold you if you wouldn’t eat for a long period of time, the same with sleeping.

When you eat and get a normal amount of sleep you have a LOT of energy. Like it’s as if you drank 10 cups of coffee in on go!

definitely praises you!!

He would be jealous if you taught anyone other than him so give him some love right after!!

Admires you for sure like he’s looking at you with heart eyes and is the most love sick guy you will ever meet lmao even if he doesn’t look like it

Overall I believe he isn’t the MOST caring in the group but definitely one of the most caring :3

Everyone quickly started noticing your sluggish movements and the constant rumbling of your stomach. You always had dark eye bags under your eyes and you were exhausted all of the time. Tyler was the first one to notice and comment on it. You tried saying you were fine but he just didn’t buy it. “Come on I can tell you’re exhausted and clearly hungry, come we should have at least an apple for you to eat.” He says and drags you to the bus where they would keep these types of necessities. He mumbled some swears you couldn’t quite understand since it was in Spanish. He handed you the apple and rolled his eyes, acting like he doesn’t care. “After you eat that go and rest, I don’t want you to collapse tomorrow..” He says, looking away from you and sits down on one of the seats in the bus.

You nod and raise a brow at his strange behavior. He never really acted kind or caring towards anyone except his sister, but you didn’t mind the special treatment. You lay down on the seat, curling into a ball and close your eyes, falling asleep in almost an instant. It was a while since you’ve slept for a healthy amount of time. You usually wouldn’t sleep or only had a few minutes of sleep since the phantom noises kept you awake constantly.

You slept for quite a long time, even past the time the group would appear and wake up in the real world. The moment it hit midnight Tyler quickly checked up on you, hoping you wouldn’t be mad that he wasn’t there when you woke up, but when he went to look towards the seat you slept on you were still there, asleep. He was taken aback by this since you slept for literally the whole day! He shook you awake, wanting to make sure you didn’t die or something in your sleep. You woke up, grumbling as you glared at the person who woke you only to see Tyler with a concerned expression. “What?” “What do you mean what!? You slept for like 30 hours!” He says and looks at you as if you were some kind of psycho. “Oh I did?” You ask, stretching your aching body and sit up. “Jeez Y/N when was the last time you’ve slept? And I mean properly.” You chuckle at his reaction and explain how you’ve had trouble sleeping, since you heard the phantoms like Ashlyn, just not so intensely. You explain your situation a bit more to him, not wanting to just leave him without an explanation on why you were the way you were.

You explain and Tyler looks at you with a sympathetic but quickly rolls his eyes and flicks your forehead; “Whatever nerd, come it’s time for you to teach us fighting or whatever..” He rolls his eyes and exits the bus. You usually teach the group how to fight when they can’t practice with Ashlyns parents since.. her parents can’t go into the realm with them. Tyler was sitting on the side while you were teaching Aiden and he yelled “Yea babe beat his ass!” He whistles and claps, having a proud look on his face. He definitely admires your skill but is like “pfft of course she’s strong she’s MY girlfriend” but in private he praises the living hell put of you. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you away from the group who is now resting and catching their breath. He pulls you closer to him and cups your cheek; “You did great princesa I’m so proud of you.” He says and kisses you on the forehead. “Oh well what kind of teacher would I be if I wasn’t any good?” You tease and wrap your arms around his neck. “Stop flirting I can hear you both!” Ashly yells and you both pull away quickly and look at each other, bursting into fits of laughter.

Aiden Clark

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He is a TEASE but like tbh he oblivious asf like bro doesn’t even notice for a good few months even after you start dating

He is really concerned once he finds out tho but still he doesn’t take it THAT seriously but still cares!!

He fr is terrified of you when you have energy tho cuz likeee your really strong

Aiden had seen you fr collapse somewhere from exhaustion and get back up like a few seconds later, beating the phantoms like it was nothing

He is super sad that he can’t see you in the normal world and tries to spend as much time with you as possible

Teases you if your stomach grumbles lmfao he finds that shit hilarious (runs away 2 seconds after he teases you)

Definitely brings you food, even if it’s not the most healthy but if you have a particular food you like expect to get it like at least twice a week

Overall is pretty chill but still caring<3

Aiden didn’t really notice at first, his mind wandering else where like usual or would tease and flirt with you. He only started noticing when you started dozing off in the most inconvenient places like when you were on a mission with the group and they just found you collapsed on the floor, only waking when you heard a phantom and kicked its ass! He was amazed but a little bit concerned but didn’t really show it, teasing you without an end. Once you got back to the graveyard he pulled you away from the rest of the group, finding Ashlyns rambling anout the next plan boring. He leads you to one of the buses and sits down, his back against the window and lays you down on top of him, your head resting on his chest. “What are you—” He silences you with a quick kiss on the lips and smiles, his usual manic like smile no where to be seen, only a genuine soft smile. “Rest, you need it. I can’t promise I will be here when you wake up but just rest, ‘kay? You’re safe.” He hugs you closer and your heart skips a beat. You smile and make yourself comfortable, falling asleep in the blink of an eye.

Aiden layed there with you, rubbing your back and playing with your hair. He grew bored after a while, typical Aiden but he let his mind wander, keeping himself occupied by thinking of random things and unconsciously braiding pieces of your hair. He only snapped out of it when he heard a quite loud rumbling. He lifted his arms off you and looked down at you with wide eyes, his manic like smile reappearing. He chuckled, he would definitely tease you about that later.

After a while he awoke in the real world, he texted the rest of the group in the group chat and smiled mischievously. Once midnight hit, you were awoken by noises coming from outside the bus. You quickly sat up, but calm down once you see a smiling Aiden looking down at you. You sigh, relieved it wasn’t phantoms when the door to the bus suddenly opened. You stood up and saw the group holding different kids of food you haven’t eaten in years! You look at the food like a kid seeing a toy they want and look at Aiden who smiled at you. “Surprise.” He says and the rest of the group places the food down on the floor, everyone sitting down and dig in. You sit down and eat a good amount of food yourself, eating to your hearts content. Everyone watches in awe at how much you ate but they were happy, especially Aiden that they could do this for you.

After everyone finished eating you helped cleaning up, Aiden approaching you and hugging you from behind; “Enjoyed the food, love?” He says and kisses your jaw, then cheek. “Yeah, a lot. How did you come up with this?” He smirks and rests his chin on your shouler; “Oh, I heard a little noise~” He puts one arm on your stomach and chuckles; “And I thought you would be thrilled with this surprise!” Your face turns red and you turn around and smack his head, grumbling and storming away.