#was born there but moved away immediately
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dr-spencer-reids-queen ¡ 2 days ago
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Tipping Point
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~1.4k
Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut
Summary: Your aunt signs you up for shooting lessons with Spencer Reid. You get more than you bargained for when you go.
Square Filled: alex blake (2022) for @spencerreidbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3
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Not having a job is really kicking your ass. All you do is stay at home and flip through magazines and shows you’ve already watched. Since your parents died, your aunt has taken you under her wing. The housing and renting market is a joke right now, so you’re living with her until you can go to school. You want to go into her field since you look up to her so much, but the school year doesn’t start for another three months.
So, you’re just trying to pass the time by reading magazines and watching shit reality shows.
Aunt Alex walks downstairs after getting ready for work, and she goes to the kitchen where the full pot of coffee you brewed is waiting for her.
“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asks.
“Well, at ten, I want to cure diseases, and at two, I plan on writing a thesis on String Theory. Why? Do you have something planned? I can see if I can fit you in,��� you say sarcastically.
“You’re so funny,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s actually something I want you to do for me.”
“What’s up?”
“I signed you up for shooting lessons. One of my coworkers is teaching the class, and he knows you’re coming. Your appointment is at two.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She’s been nagging you to take shooting lessons ever since you moved in with her.
“Aunt Alex…”
“Y/N, listen, your mother wasn’t prepared and look where it got her. I’m not letting the same thing happen to you.”
She’s right. Your father died shortly after you were born so your mom was the protector. There was an invasion one night and she wasn’t able to protect herself against the intruder. She died fighting to save you. Alex sees evil every single day, and it would break her heart if you weren't prepared for the worst.
“Fine, I’ll go,” you sigh.
“Good. It’s at two. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
The morning is filled with reality TV, and the early afternoon is when you prepare to go to this lesson. What should you wear? A dress might be too much so you pick out a nice pair of jeans and a loose shirt. Once ready, you leave the house and head over to the shooting range. You’re not sure who from her team is going to be teaching you. You’ve never met them but you do know them by name. David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, and Spencer Reid. You don’t think Rossi or Hotch will teach you so it has to be either Derek or Spencer.
The shooting range is empty, probably due to Alex’s influence. She wanted whoever is teaching it to focus on you the whole time.
“Hello? Anyone here?”
“In the back!”
You walk to the back and see a tall and slender man putting away supplies. From Penelope’s use of the phrase “Chocolate Thunder” (thanks to Aunt Alex repeating it several times), you know this is Spencer Reid. Spencer turns and you’re immediately floored by how attractive he is. You’ve met your fair share of men and have hooked up with more than one of them, but Spencer is on a whole other level.
This is a man right here. You’re into older men, too. You’re not sure how old he is but he can’t be more than thirty-five.
He walks over to you with a smile. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Alex said you were coming over.” No words are coming out so you just nod instead. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” Again, you can only shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
He takes you over to the area where you shoot and shows an array of guns on the table next to it. He picks up the smaller one and hands it over to you.
“Wow, this is heavier than I thought it was going to be,” you chuckle when you grab it.
“Yeah, don’t let that scare you. This is a very easy gun to use. First, safety.”
Spencer takes the gun from you and puts it on the table before grabbing a pair of earmuffs and safety glasses. You look up at him as he slides the earmuffs over your ears, and he looks into your eyes. He briefly looks down at your lips but it was so quick that you could have been imagining it.
“Does that fit well?”
Even through the earmuffs, his voice is like honey. You nod and he moves onto the glasses. He slides them on despite you having full capabilities of doing this yourself. You look down and the glasses slide off your face entirely, and you chuckle shyly. Both you and Spencer lean down to pick it up, and your hand bumps against his.
It was just a bump but that sends shockwaves through your body. Based on how Spencer is looking at you, you know he felt the same. This is different than any fling you had. You’ve never felt this type of attraction toward another man.
“Sorry,” you whisper.
“It’s okay.” He grabs the glasses. “Let me get another pair.” Spencer leaves and returns with a smaller pair. “Are those okay?”
“Better,” you smile.
“Okay, take the gun and turn the safety off.” You pick up the gun and flip the little switch. Spencer steps closer to you, so close that you can feel his body heat behind you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach but you try to ignore them. “Here, hold it like this.”
He reaches around you and fixes the way you hold the gun. He has to press himself closer to your back, and you silently thank Aunt Alex for setting this up for you.
“Am I holding it right?” you ask.
“Yes.”
His breath is hot against your neck, and you swear you can feel your panties dampening a little bit.
“Now what?”
“Shoot.” You aim at the target in front of you and shoot three times, all of the bullets not hitting the target but on the paper outside of it. “Okay, next time, don’t close one eye. That actually doesn’t help.”
“Okay,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Try again. This time, try to aim for the heart.”
You aim at the target but freeze when you feel Spencer’s hand sliding up your arms and down to your waist. How can you think about this when all you can think about is his hands on your body? You shoot the target twice, both of the bullets hitting the target. However, one hit his leg and the other hit his hand.
“Better?”
“Yeah, a bit. Are you sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”
“Never.”
“For a first-timer, you’re doing a lot better than other newbies.”
“Thanks,” you smile. “I just have a really great teacher.”
Spencer spends the next thirty minutes teaching you how to shoot multiple different guns. By the time you’re done, the sexual tension is high. Spencer steps back from you and you regret not failing more just so you can feel his body against yours.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I do think you might benefit from one more lesson. Are you free next week?”
“Yes,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I can make that work. Just let me know.”
“Great.”
Spencer removes your glasses and then your earmuffs while staring into your eyes the whole time. The tension between you two is like a boiling pot of water. It’s going to overflow any second now, and you can’t wait to see what will happen when he snaps. He looks down at your lips and you lick them slowly, and that seems to be the tipping point.
He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before slamming his lips on yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up with ease, setting you on the small table so you’re up to his height. Spencer slides his tongue along your bottom lip, but he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck instead of licking inside your mouth.
“Alex is going to kill me,” he mutters between kisses.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you moan.
Spencer pulls back and kisses you once again. If you knew this was waiting for you, you would have taken lessons a lot sooner.
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Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
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cognitiveoverload ¡ 2 days ago
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Basic human decency – 1/4 (platonic Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)
summary: You're the surgeon who operated Hotch, and you're annoyed that he immediately starts working after waking up.
masterlist
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“I hoped you would be knocked out a little longer,” you say with a playful smile as you enter his room, stopping at the foot of his bed. He stops typing and raises an eyebrow in question, which makes you shake your head in disapprovement. “Dr. Young warned me that you’re a workaholic, but I didn’t think you would be working so soon after a surgery.”
Hotchner let out a sigh and put down the phone to focus on this conversation. “It’s important. I can’t just lie here and do nothing,” he replies.
Nodding, you put the chart on the bed next to his feet, then move a little closer to him. “Look, you need to rest. When you were brought in, things didn’t seem serious, so no one talked to you about this, but due to that complication, and after such a serious surgery, I’d rather see you taking it easy for now,” you explain with a kind smile.
All it takes is one look to know a lot about him. You heard that he’s working for the FBI, it’s clear that he’s a born leader, but that mixed with a stubborn attitude can be dangerous in hospitals. As a doctor, you give instructions to patients, expecting them to do as you say, but people like him often ignore these orders. If it was up to you, you would take away every device that can help him work, but you have no right to do that. 
The best you can do now is try to reason with him. Well, seeing the doubtful expression on his face, you’d probably have a better chance convincing a brick wall.
“I’m just making a few phone calls,” he tries with a smile.
“Work calls?” For a few moments, he watches you with a blank expression, but then it all changes and suddenly he looks like a kid who was caught doing something wrong. “You have a son, right?”
He nods in response. “Jack. He’s six,” he replies, sounding a little unsure. “Why?”
Your attention is drawn to the door where a nurse waves at you, so you quickly signal her that you’ll be there in a moment, then return your attention to the patient. “It’s the summer break, right? Why don’t you ask someone to bring him here? You would have the chance to spend more time with him, and you wouldn’t spend that time working. It’s a win-win to me,” you offer with a laugh.
There’s a strange gleam in his brown eyes as he considers your idea. While he thinks about this, you go to pick up his chart, then flash one last smile at him before telling him to rest and that you’ll be back soon. You even dare to jokingly threaten him that you would confiscate his phone, to which he replies with a silent nod of understanding. But there’s something under the surface, something that just doesn’t click into place, yet you can’t figure out what it could be. 
Shaking off this feeling, you leave the room and get lost in work again. After checking on a few patients, you have another small surgery, which manages to take your mind off this for now. In fact, the rest of your shift passes without thinking about the agent again, but then, about half an hour before you can finally leave, you find yourself at the nurses’ station across his room. You don’t notice it at first, only when Dr. Young stops next to you with a teasing grin on his face. 
When you ask him what it’s all about, he just shrugs and points at the room with his pen. “Well, well, well, young lady, you are officially a miracle worker. According to my sources he stopped working after you left,” he explains with a kind smile as he looks at you. 
You follow the pen and notice that Hotchner isn’t alone, there is a young boy sitting on the edge of his bed, while a few people are standing around it, deep in a conversation. Something tells you they’re his colleagues, partly because you can see one of them carrying a weapon, but they are all smiling and laughing, it’s surely not work-related. So he did listen to you. Good. That’s exactly what you wanted. 
“Let’s hope it stays this way until he’s discharged,” you note quietly, but while you want to say something else, the words don’t come out. Because through the window you can see him turn to you, as if he could sense you are standing there, watching him, and you could swear he flashes a thankful smile at you. And then you jump from the surprise, because Lisa, one of the nurses, holds up an envelope in front of your face. “What’s this?” 
She shrugs with a teasing smile, then bumps her shoulder into yours as she hands it to you. “Oh, just a message I was asked to give to you. And it came with that bouquet of flowers. No big deal,” she says happily. 
As you open it, you watch as she and Dr. Young leave your side, giving you space to read the card. It’s a gift from Hotchner, and he used this way to thank you for making him understand that he can allow himself to retreat and recover instead of jumping back into work, possibly stressing himself out because of it. That’s all. It’s just a short message, but it’s surely one of those small things that make your job a hundred times better. 
As you look back at him, you see him watching you again, so you raise the card and nod in his way, to which he responds with a smile. And this catches his colleagues' attention, because they all turn to you suddenly, which makes you flee the scene before they could find you to ask questions. Maybe it’s time to go home now. But first, you scribble a short thank you message on a piece of paper, and ask a nearby nurse to give it to him once he’s alone again. There are no questions, but you can see the knowing grin on his lips that make you roll your eyes. 
This isn’t flirting.
This is basic human decency.
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dat-town ¡ 1 day ago
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we bloom at night
Characters: vampire!Sunghoon & vampire hunter!female reader
Setting & genre: urban fantasy au, angst, almost lovers to enemies to lovers (romeo and juliet-esque?)
Summary: They say almost is the saddest word. You thought it was ridiculous. Until Sunghoon became your almost.
Warnings: minor character deaths, guns, canon-typical violence, MC gets slapped by her father, mentions of blood, ambiguous ending, possibly annoying amount of moon references
Words: 3.2k
Author’s note: inspired by the untold concept cinema - the last scene is set immediately after the end of that; title from moonstruck; @restlessmaknae you can call me out on writing so much for bonedo but can we talk about how this is also my 3rd Sunghoon story this year? (and all of them are angsty oops)
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It was always going to end in a tragedy.
From the moment you knew who he was, what he was, there was no other way. It didn’t hurt any less though.
The first time you met Sunghoon he was playing piano at the Moonlight Gala. You couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful, unearthly so. The white overhead light painted him pale, his dark hair a stark contrast like ink against snow. You were enchanted, both by his music and his appearance.
Your father scolded you for not paying attention to the chairman who was asking you about your after graduation plans. As if you had much of a choice! It didn’t matter that you were born a girl or that you hated violence more than anything. Three generations of soldiers serving the country… you couldn’t break the family tradition. Your opinion never really mattered because in your household, your father’s word was law and outside of it, you had no choice but to agree with the colonel. No disobedience was allowed, you learned that early on.
The gala was held in the name of charity for orphans but in reality it was just another chance for the chairman to show off his influence and pretend to be a good samaritan while using the charity funds to buy his second wife a villa on Jeju. You hated him and their equally two-faced, egoistic son who thought girls should stay quiet and just be pretty. Your cheek still burned from the memory of your father’s slap after you dared to indulge in an argument with the guy over rights and things such as equality because how dare you disrespect the heir?
You couldn’t wait to get away from the crowd and from your family, so you used their distraction during speeches to slip away into the gardens and it seemed like the pianist preferred the silence of nature as well, now that his services were temporarily not needed while the rich and influential were busy praising themselves inside. He stood by the fountain, the moon reflecting on the water and its shine highlighted his beauty. You might have been too mesmerized, too obvious, because when the boy looked up, he immediately caught your gaze.
From a young age you were taught to own up to your mistakes and to always act like what you were doing was intentional because you couldn’t allow yourself to bring shame to your name by showcasing anything else than perfect composure, so you didn’t shy away. You kept eye contact even when the pianist tilted his head in question and you raised your chin as you closed the distance between you with a few light steps.
“What was the song you played last?” You asked because the melody was like no other you heard before yet it was stuck in your mind.
“It’s an original. It’s called Moonstruck,” he said and even his voice was beautiful, mellow and soft.
His answer was followed by brief silence but it wasn’t awkward. Your fingers mimicked the way his fingers moved over the black and white keys over the railing and oh how you wished you were taught to create music instead of how to hold a gun.
“You are the lieutenant's daughter,” the boy spoke up again and it wasn’t a question, you both knew. Anybody could tell from the way you were pestered around all night.
“First and foremost, I’m Y/N,” you said because being your father’s daughter was one thing but you were your own individual without your family’s influence as well.
Your correction made the pianist smile a bit. The small gesture looked good on him.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Sunghoon,” he introduced himself and looked at the moonlit water again. There, under the full moon, you traded secrets unlike strangers usually do. He told you that he had grown up in an orphanage, befriending his best friends there, and you told him about how your older brother was like your own best friend, your only supporter under your father’s regime. He was the golden son, good at everything and making the family proud with his achievements in the military already as a rookie. He promised to put in a word for you after he earned himself a promotion, that he would ask your father, so you wouldn’t have to follow down this path.
It was such a comfort, this little bubble you created in which you weren’t judged, where you were actually listened to. But the idyll broke when you heard your name being called and it brought a frown onto your face.
“I need to go,” you excused yourself, apologetic, and the boy nodded, understanding.
“I should probably go back to my post as well,” he muttered with a half smile and your paths diverged.
But before the end of the night, Sunghoon slipped a napkin into your hand smoothly, asking when he could see you again. It made your heart flutter like nothing before.
You thought it was romantic: sneaking around, sending handwritten letters, keeping the ones from him under your pillow. The political unrest shown on TV due to the emerging vampire attack cases not being handled efficiently was just an afterthought in the back of your mind, your father’s complaints at the dining table fading in the background because all you could think about was seeing Sunghoon again. 
But then everything changed when your brother died. His throat was torn and bloody, fang marks clear and you swore over his dead body in the hospital’s sterilized table that you would avenge him.
Joining the military’s new government founded vampire hunting unit seemed like the right choice. The president was finally taking steps against the threats that have been lurking in your country for a while now. Needless to say your parents were proud and even though you knew you could never replace their favourite son, it didn’t stop you. You weren’t doing this for them after all, you were doing this because your brother was the best thing in your life and his death was unfair.
You didn’t expect Sunghoon to support you, after all it was a dangerous job and the complete opposite of what you had wanted to do previously but you thought that he would at least understand you and why you needed to do this. But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought, not even after weeks of talking and sharing stories nobody else knew.
“You said you didn’t want to go down this path,” he said quietly, his shadow even taller than him in the alcove you found your temporary safe haven.
“That was before. I have to do this,” you argued because you were angry at the world and you felt lost without having a purpose. Sunghoon’s reluctance to accept your choice hurt more than you expected it to be. Maybe you wanted him to embrace you, to stroke your hair and tell you that everything would be alright. But Sunghoon’s eyes were sorrowful for reasons you weren’t aware of and his distance cut deeper than the knife you accidentally hurt yourself with during training.
“Y/N…”
“You can’t change my mind,” you cut him off because you didn’t want to hear more. You ripped yourself away before he could have touched you and walked away, the lonely moon showing you the way in the night.
That was the last time you saw him as a human. Or at least when you thought he was human. Because the next time you met, it wasn’t one of your secret night rendezvous behind your parents’ back. It wasn’t apologies whispered or heartfelt letters exchanged. It was your first field mission as a rookie of the vampire hunting team.
The past few weeks you pretty much lived on the military base, drowning yourself in training and practice. You wanted to be the best, you had so much to catch up on. On days when it was particularly hard, when you had new scars on your hands, soreness in your muscles and received insults for being daddy’s little princess and just wanted to cry, you missed your brother the most. It would have been so much easier with him by your side. Then you started missing Sunghoon too and something you never really had and you had to snap out of it because you couldn’t get distracted.
(You had no idea that he had spent those weeks visiting your house, watching your window, hoping to see the light or for you to lean outside of the window, any sign that you were well. You had no idea that one of his friends had been caught while stealing blood bags from a hospital and the military was on their trail. You had no idea that he missed you too, like waves missed their guiding moon.)
The mission you joined was supposed to be an easy one, just a quick in-and-out at a warehouse that supposedly had frequent vampire activities. The team’s job was to check on that and if confirmed, get information about the approximate number of bloodsuckers hidden there.
Maybe it was the nerves or the pressure to prove yourself but you wandered off after noticing movement in one corner and no amount of training could have prepared you for the sight of a teenage girl with bloodshot eyes and blood dripping from her sharp fangs. You had a gun in your hand, the same type you had shot with during practice. You knew the feel of metal and just how hard you needed to pull the trigger. You knew exactly how many seconds it took and yet, you stood there frozen. You always imagined vampires as ugly villains from children's stories or faceless murderers from horror movies, but this girl looked so human, even covered in blood. She was just a child…
A child that was attacking you.
Everything happened so fast. Before you could even lift your arm and aim, the girl was on you, baring her teeth, then the next moment she was yanked off you with a strength you didn’t think was possible. You gaped at the person who did it, even more so when you recognized him in the dim lit warehouse.
“Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” Sunghoon asked with worry in his midnight dark eyes, with a cold hand against your cheek to check you for injuries.
He didn’t look afraid at all, if not for you and you were the one with a weapon in hand, that was the first thing you noticed. Then you put two and two together: the reason behind his pale complexion and flawless beauty, why he wasn’t fond of the government’s stricter rules or why he was especially wary of your sudden change of heart.
“You… You are one of them. Those monsters,’ you whispered with a gasp in shock. It felt like a betrayal, a knife straight to the heart. Even if he wasn’t the one who had killed your brother, he was one of them.
Sunghoon hissed like your words could actually hurt him as he pulled his hands back, looking scared that even his touch was repulsive to you now.
“Y/N…” He called your name softly, like he had called you so many times before but its sweetness turned sour to your ears now. His being alone changed so many things.
“Leave,” you gritted your teeth, trembling fingers curling around your gun firmer. It was heavier in your hand than it was supposed to be. But Sunghoon didn’t move, so you looked up, straight into his eyes and repeated. “Leave. This is the last kindness I can give to you.”
This beautiful boy looked at you with such sorrowful eyes that you could feel your eyes tear up. He didn’t understand. He had to leave. If others saw him…
“Please,” you begged and lifted the gun, pointing at his chest, right at his broken heart but you could have pointed at your own too.
You both heard the footsteps coming and it was then when Sunghoon disappeared as swiftly as wind, leaving only a breeze of his musky scent behind. The moment he left, you fell to the ground, and a comrade found you like that.
It didn’t take long after that for word to get around. You were a weakling. A shame. But none of it mattered with a broken heart.
The sound of palm meeting skin echoed in your childhood bedroom. Your cheek felt hot even after your father pulled his hand back and you forced your gaze to the ground.
“Don’t you see, stupid girl? He was using you to get information about us,” he claimed as if he knew the boy whose picture was now on wanted posters all over the city, him and all his friends from the orphanage too. Everything came to light quickly after that: his appearance at the gala, your late night talks, the secret letters hidden in your pillow  and your weakness for a beautiful boy with a mole on his cheek. A vampire.
You disappointed your father once again.
“He isn’t like that,” you argued because even in the light of the recent realization you were not willing to believe that Sunghoon played pretend the entire time and none of his softness or kindness was genuine.
“Did he or did he not know about your connection to the military?” Your father pressed and you couldn’t deny that. He knew who you were before you even talked. But who didn’t at that party? Your father liked to show off your family.
“Yes but…”
“See? You’re so naive. I should have known better than to believe you can avenge your brother,” your father didn’t even let you finish and turned his back on you. End of the conversation.
Now, it felt like a cosmic joke that the next time you met Sunghoon, it was in an abandoned music store with broken glass and soldiers’ bodies lying all around. He was sitting in the car that crashed into the building and listened to the music coming from the cassette player. Light piano music like the first time you had seen him.
The government had called for an aggressive attack on all known vampires to ‘clear’ the cities that morning. Everything was closed down and every active soldier was on the field. You heard of the first troop opening fire at the car with seven vampires and how they stopped reporting back to the base. That was when your lieutenant father came up with his great idea: to send you in, alone, because one of the vampires trusted you and you knew a deal when you saw it: it was your chance of redemption if you ever wanted him to consider you as his daughter again. You weren’t sure you wanted though. Still, you agreed because not going was the worse choice both for you and Sunghoon. Even if you were supposed to be a martyr.
“Are you part of the backup they sent?” Sunghoon asked without looking up, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as if he was playing the last few notes of that pretty melody.
“I’m supposed to be the distraction,” you admitted, voice tight, limbs nervous. Not because you were in the middle of a battlefield and if your father gave the command, you would go down with everything around you. Not because soldiers in bulky uniforms were scattered behind you injured or dead. Not because you were afraid Sunghoon would hurt you. Even his friends let you pass by them without a word, some didn’t even glance at you, others followed you with their gaze but didn’t get up from their place, didn’t stop you either. You were trembling because you weren’t sure how Sunghoon would treat you after you had called him a monster. But you should have known better than to doubt him.
When he got out of the car and turned to you, he didn’t look at you with hatred or disappointment, he looked at you with care, worry. He didn’t approach you as if he was afraid that you would push him away like last time.
“You need to leave, Y/N. It’s going to be hell when the backup arrives,” he warned you as if you didn’t know, as if there wasn’t a gun tucked inside his pants just like you had one taped to your thigh. You were prepared for hell.
“You… it wasn’t you, right? You didn’t kill the mass like they claim, right?” You asked, almost desperately, because you needed to know. They plastered the city full of their faces, calling them murderers, killers of dozens, but you couldn’t imagine him doing all the atrocities that were pinned on them and you knew how the government needed scapegoats just to prove the funding had gone to a good place, so you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was all a lie, you just needed to be sure.
“We only kill if necessary. Like now, they attacked us first,” Sunghoon explained and you knew that he was telling the truth about the letter because you heard your superior say that the vampired wanted to leave town quietly. You also saw the bullet holes in his Sunghoon’s jacket.
“They are everywhere. They surrounded the area. They say they will burn down the neighbourhood if they have to and I…” You started rambling because you didn’t know what to do, what you could do at least and you were starting to panic because it had already been some time and what if the soldiers were already on the move and…
“Hey, shh…” Sunghoon cooed, quiet and kind, like he was reassuring a child as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you onto his chest. He smelled like smoke and metal but he was warm, you nuzzled closer.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his shirt, fingers curling into the sleeve of his jacket to keep yourself steady.
“We’ll get out of here alright, okay?” He said under the watching eyes of the rising moon and you wanted to believe him so badly.
You wanted to get far, far away and start a new life. You wanted to sit next to him and watch him play piano. You wanted to be with him without hiding, without holding back. You wanted to believe that you had a future despite his immortality and your human fragility.
“Okay,” you forced a hopeful smile and Sunghoon slid his fingers into the seam of yours to intertwine them.
He led you to his friends and asked what you knew about the ambush the soldiers were preparing, so you tried your best to tell them all the small details you caught on while waiting in front of your father’s office. And just like that, you really became the traitor he already thought you were. But between a father who kept you in a cage and never wanted you the way you were and a boy who wanted you despite everything, you chose to follow your heart.
Even if it led to hell. At least Sunghoon was holding your hand through it.
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myllovellybones ¡ 23 hours ago
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"Daughter." "Sister."
Oh hell no I'm walking out
Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?
🙂.
Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."
SHUT UPPP DON'T TALK TO ME
Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."
Genuinely how could this be comforting. She just got pregnant by a man who's on the edge of DYING
We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.
Honestly thats so cool High Valryian is such a pretty language I'd be using it all the time too
"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.
First of all, appreciate the damn duck. AND MAYBE JUST MAYBE IF YOU'D READ THE LETTERS YOUR WIFE SENT YOU WOULD KNOW
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"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"
Omg I totally forgot he was already there when Viserys and Alicent got married. His crash out is about to be insane
Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."
LMAOO IM DONE
He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.
OMG?? YOU ASSHOLE???
A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.
You absolute idiot
"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."
Excuse me?
"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."
I just realized how many grandkids he's about to have especially when Heleana, Aemond, AND Dareon is born
"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."
Fuck I am so scared cause all this stress is not good for her or the babes
You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"
STOPPP 😭😭
"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."
Wow okay actually this made me tear up
"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"
I can't I really can't
"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."
It's insane how he says this but then ignores all his children after. I think he had or has good intentions but still man
Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"
WHAT?! NO STOP DONT TELL ME WHAT I THINK IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN HAPPENS
Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.
😭
Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.
NOOOO STOP MY POOR BABIES
Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."
The anguish this genuinely made me feel
You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."
.... her trying to do everything to wake them up is soul crushing
"They're perfect, are they not?"
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You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.
He's so sweat to her omg
"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.
Lmao I'm but the way their fight really is so sibling coded
These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.
TIMESKIP TIMESKIP OMG HERE WE GO
"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.
I'd literally go to war for baby aegon.
Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.
AHH HES BACK HOLY SHIT HOW MUCH DOES HE KNOW?? IS HE MAD?? SAD?? AHJAKSSLSKL
I say this in the most lovingly way, this chapter killed me. You sure know how to write angst cause OH MY GOD?? I could barely see by the time I finished it cause there were so many tears running down my face and neck. I'm so scared and excited to see how Daemon will react. And I do now have mixed feelings about Viserys cause there's sm things he did wrong but he does have good intentions, and the way he tried helping her too was heart breaking 😭
Tormented Spirit | 12
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3
@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones
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Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.
At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.
Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.
"Daughter." "Sister."
These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.
Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."
Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?
Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."
Your face drops as you turn to her.
She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.
Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."
Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."
Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"
You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."
Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."
Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.
The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"
He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"
You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.
"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."
You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."
Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."
You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.
You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.
You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.
"What?" you knit your brows at him.
"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."
He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"
Your maester nods, "highly likely."
You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."
You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.
"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.
It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."
Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.
We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.
"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."
Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"
"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.
"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."
Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"
"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"
This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."
Corlys sighs, "as I was-"
"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.
Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"
Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"
Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"
Daemon whips his head his direction.
"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"
"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"
Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."
His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."
Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"
Daemon clenches his plate
"And she never mentioned thi—"
"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.
Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"
"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.
Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."
Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.
"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!
He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.
He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.
You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.
He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.
He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.
𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢
A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.
He's read enough.
Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.
You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.
Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."
You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"
"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."
Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."
" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.
"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."
You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.
"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."
"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.
He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."
You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."
"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."
Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."
He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."
"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."
Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.
"Continue!"
He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"
"He is," you scratch your eyes.
"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."
You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.
"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."
You feel sick, sicker.
"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."
You heave as you continue walking around.
"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."
You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.
"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."
"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.
He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."
"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"
He is taken off guard when you shove him back.
"Even you are against me!"
Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."
You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"
His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.
"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"
"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"
"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"
He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.
You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.
Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.
"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."
"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"
"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"
He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.
"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."
He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"
"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."
His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."
You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.
When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.
He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.
You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."
His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.
The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.
He frowns.
"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."
He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.
You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"
The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."
You huff, "I am her older si-"
"But for your babe."
You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.
"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."
The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."
"My princess."
"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"
He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.
The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.
The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.
Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.
"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."
Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"
"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."
The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."
You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.
Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."
You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.
Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.
You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.
"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"
His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.
"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.
You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.
Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?
As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.
Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."
You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.
"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."
You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.
"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"
"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."
His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"
You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."
He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"
"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."
Viserys turns to you.
You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."
He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."
You find no comfort in his words.
"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."
The thought nearly makes you flinch.
He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"
You begin to feel sick.
"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."
Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.
"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."
His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.
"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"
You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"
"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."
"Eadan—"
He grins and points, "little fire."
"—and Alaeric," you huff.
"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."
You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."
He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."
"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."
He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"
"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."
Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"
You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."
"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.
Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"
You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.
Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.
"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"
Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.
Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.
The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.
It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.
Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."
Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.
Your scream makes his stomach curdle.
Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.
Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."
The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.
You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."
The thought is gutting.
You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."
Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.
Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.
Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.
You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.
Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"
"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."
Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.
You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."
She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."
A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?
She wordlessly agrees.
You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."
A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."
"They're perfect, are they not?"
She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."
You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.
You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.
Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."
"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."
You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."
"My princess, I-"
"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"
He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."
You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.
Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.
Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"
"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.
"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."
"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.
All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.
You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.
Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.
Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"
You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.
"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."
The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.
He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."
A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.
"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."
You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.
The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"
Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."
"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"
Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"
"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.
The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"
"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.
Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"
"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"
"Please."
The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."
"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."
Arryk turns to Erryk.
"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.
Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.
Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.
"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.
The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."
These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.
Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.
Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"
Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."
Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"
You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"
"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.
You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"
"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.
You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"
Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.
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senshi-tiddy-holder ¡ 11 months ago
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senshi if he was filipino and kapampangan (translation below <3)
TAGALOG/ENGLISH/JP TRANSLATION
mangan tamu! = kain tayo/let's eat!/食べよう!
manyaman na tlga ne = ang sarap talaga/it's really delicious/ホンマに激ウマ
kanyaman na ning lutu mo = magaling kang magluto/your cooking is delicious/料理が上手だよなぁ
[context: food in the bg was made by my friend ron, who titles it, "mataray na adobo" or "badass adobo"]
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dat1angel ¡ 1 year ago
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When Ra's needed an heir, Talia impregnated herself with The Detective's DNA to give him the perfect offspring. When she delived fraternal twins the boy was raised to one day take over the League and the girl was kept around so that she might one day provide the LoA with new recruits. When she came of age and learned that the only reason she was kept around was the idea of her future children, she fled. They never found her.
Years later, Duke Thomas introduces his family to his new boyfriend, Danny Fenton.
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dormiloncito ¡ 2 months ago
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the consequences of my actions are upon me
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sttoru ¡ 8 months ago
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.
tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t
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“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.
toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”
you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.
“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.
it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.
“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.
you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.
toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”
you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.
toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.
“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.
it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.
toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.
“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”
megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.
though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;
“mama papa kissing!”
you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”
toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.
you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.
“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.
you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.
“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”
after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.
megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.
“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.
megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”
that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—
“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.
megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.
you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.
toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.
“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.
you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.
toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.
“so, where were we?”
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sukunas-wife ¡ 1 year ago
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Being Sukuna’s Pregnant Wife and being worshipped as a diety because you were able to conceive the four armed hulking cursed child, you must have the blessing of fertility
Having a shrine erected in your name because barren women believed you’d bless them with fertility despite your legacy starting with the child of the curse that torments them all
Telling your hand maids “Don’t bring me my clothes, bring me one of the kings robes.” The hand maids flinching and wanting to protest out of fear of taking the King of Curses robes
The poor naive young hand maid that had grown a crush on the king excitedly rushing if it meant she could enter the private bed chambers,
Scoffing with a malicious smile to your loyal maids when they shook their heads with Sympathy, they learned long before at such a request it would be foolish to go alone, at least 2 or 3 of them would need to go in your name, preferably the ones your husband recognized to be by your side the longest. But you didn’t like this new girl, she was too enthusiastic to work at the palace only to have a complete change in character when she learned she was assigned to work for you
“It’ll serve that poor girl right” you looked away from the door when your loyal hand maids brought out a wooden box with one of Sukuna’s folded Kimono’s they helped you dress your swollen belly accentuated by the belt the kimono tailored to fit your husband left you with extra space and length, it was far more comfortable then the Kimono’s and robes you were, the lingering smell of your husband with comforting as your rubbed your belly hands barely peeking from the massive sleeves
“Let’s go see my husband.” Was all you said as you started your walk, the maids followed close as you made it to the bed chambers, the door was open, you looked in, Sukuna sneering down at the girl laying in a pool of blood, Uraume was making quick work of the mess
Sukuna’s snapped to you and his arm’s opening in an unusual display of affection, you walked around the mess to reach him, he pulled you into his left side, one hand on your waist the other making you face him, bring his right hand up he rested his hand on your stomach “Some of your maids need a lesson on how to speak to their king,” he looked away from your face to your stomach as he started to move his hands in circles “So swollen with my child, it’s no wonder you send your maids to steal my robes.”
You smack his shoulder with a playful smile and he chuckled “Don’t say it like that you make me feel bigger than i am.”
“Now,” he looked up at your face again, “why are you here.”
You tilted your head to the side, “I started contractions this morning, I’ve been in pain all day and I’m barely standing, my new maid wouldn’t stop speaking so highly of my husband accomplishing having a child when I was at my worst pain level getting ready to push out YOUR child that I HAD to carry. Anyhow I came to get you because he is ready to come.”
Sukuna stared down at you confused “How do you know it’s a boy?”
“I’m his mother,” he watched as you placed your hand over his stilling his rubbing of your stomach, “I knew he was a boy from the day your seed took.”
Sukuna smirked “Is that so? Then let’s see this boy.”
🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤
After an hour of fighting the doctor tending to your birth you gave birth to your lively son, born screaming without needing stimulation to cry form the doctor. Your husband couldn’t help but laugh when he saw his child in his full glory, he was a boy indeed.
The help immediately gave you your son and you cooed at him when he took to your breast, your husband taking blankets from the maids and covered your son also covering you in the process as you struggled a bit to pass what came next. Your son a spitting image of his father, your breathy laugh caught Sukuna’s attention as he came back to your bed side stroking your hair and rubbing your stomach the way the help had been doing.
“What amuses you?” He watched his son slowly close his eyes as you coddled him closer.
“I’m the one who had to carry him for so long, and the ingrate took nothing from me.” You smiled and shook your head before looking up at Sukuna.
Soon the doctor left after clearing you of any possible issues and checking your son. “His name?” You looked at Sukuna and he sighed “Yuji”
The look of adoration in your eyes was something Sukuna would’ve wanted to capture forever if he could express the sentiment. However for now he’d settle for memorizing every detail of today. His wife birthing his first heir, the name she had chosen he permitted.
Maybe just maybe this world wasn’t so bad
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bunnis-monsters ¡ 5 months ago
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What about a princess bunny-hybrid! reader (chubby like always) that has a secret romantic affair with a wolf-hybrid knight?
Nothing too original lmao but.... Maybe NSFW involved, please?
NSFW
warning: dubcon, somno, breeding, pregnancy
You had always been taken care of with a tender hand, your wolf!hybrid knight never letting you feel alone or afraid for even a second.
He absolutely adored you, that was clear to anyone that watched him interact with you for more than a minute… but unfortunately for your poor knight, you were oblivious to his romantic affections.
That was until the day your knight went into rut. Usually, he locked himself away from the world, not wanting to harm anyone… especially you.
But this time he had been on guard duty, staying by your side constantly due to a recent assassination attempt.
So when he watched over you sleeping, defenseless body as he stroked his fat cock, knotting his hand, he couldn’t help but gently press his tip to your tongue that poked out of you mouth.
It was straight up sinful. Knights were supposed to protect the purity of their princess and make sure they remained untainted… but here he was, using your thighs to get off as you snoozed peacefully.
It wasn’t long before that wasn’t enough. Your knight watched you like a predator watched its prey.
But you weren’t afraid. Your fluffy bunny ears twitched happily every time you saw him. After all, the two of you had been close since childhood.
“H-hey, you sure this is okay?”
Your knight licked your neck, your bottom lifted in the air and cotton tail wagging furiously as his cock rubbed against your bunny cunt.
“Of course it is, princess… just… trust me okay..?”
He panted, his tail swaying as he pressed against your tight hole. “Be a good girl for me, I always take care of you, don’t I?”
That was the first time he sunk his cock into your pretty pussy, starting off your love affair.
You’d think as a knight he would already be protective enough, but it only increased tenfold now that the two of you were mates.
He was able to keep it a secret for a while, excusing the issue of scenting you by saying it was for protection, and mating you in secret.
It got a bit harder when your belly started to swell with his pups and all you wanted to do was nest and be mated.
“Mmm!!”
He sighed as you tugged on his shirt, your chubby cheeks puffed out. His hand immediately moved to rest on your swollen belly as he began to groom you.
“What is it, my princess?”
You only whined at him some more, pulling him to your nest. These days he had been spoiling you rotten, unable to leave his precious mate upset in the slightest.
“Wanna mate…”
Your fluffy bunny ears twitches as you tried to get into a position so he could mount you, but lying on your belly wasn’t an option.
He quickly grabbed you by the hips, laying you on your side. “Shh, shh, careful now, my princess… you’re carrying our pups, okay?”
The feeling of his fingers slipping into your fat cunt made your cotton tail wag furiously, and his own tail began to thump against the bed.
“That feels good, princess? Sweet girl getting all wet got me, huh?”
Being stretched out just enough for his cock to slip into you made your body shudder. If he could, your mate would keep you on his knot all day…
Soft whimpers left your lips as he tried to be gentle with you, the tight grip on his hips telling you how much he was restraining himself from pounding into your sweet pussy.
Your scent was so intense now that you were pregnant, he couldn’t help knotting you within minutes. If anyone knew how often he had the princess of their kingdom blubbering in pleasure as he bounces you on his knot, they’d be shocked.
His claw circled your swollen belly. In reality, he feared his pups may be persecuted once they were born due to him not being of royal blood…
“My princess… I love you more than anything, you know… but some people wouldn’t want us to be together.”
The fog keeping your mind fuzzy cleared at his words, and your eyes twitched nervously. “Why? I love you, you’re my mate…”
You were too innocent, unaware of the implications of being impregnated by a commoner like him.
“I am, my princess… but they want to take you away from me. They are beginning to become suspicious of your growing belly and our close relationship…”
When tears began to fall down your chubby cheeks, he cursed under his breath. He felt terrible for being so selfish, putting you in harms way because he wanted something he wasn’t supposed to have… you.
“N-no, I wanna stay with you! You’re all I know…”
As you cried and sniffled, he licked your cheek before pulling you closer to him.
“Shh, shh… oh my love, don’t you know I am your knight? No need for years, they can never take you away from me. I will fight for our love until my body gives out.”
He sat up, causing you to whine and reach for him. “My love, if you want us to stay together, we must leave before your pregnancy is uncovered.”
Your bunny ears flicked, and you looked up at him with your teary eyes. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”
He pulled you to your feet, helping you stand on your wobbly, post breeding session legs.
“Will you?”
You answered by clinging to him and butting your head against him affectionately. After scooping you up, he covered your soft cheeks in kisses before setting you on your bed.
“Sleep, my dear. I’ll take care of all of the preparations.”
With that, he tucked you in, leaving the room to prepare for your future together.
He would have you, and no one would get in the way of his love for his princess.
After all, a knight was supposed to protect his princess and make sure they remained happy.
And you were happy in his arms…
Part 2?
———————
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pucksandpower ¡ 6 months ago
Text
Baby Girl Norris
Lando Norris x pediatrician!Reader
Summary: you know what you have to do — track down a world-famous Formula 1 driver, tell him about his newborn daughter, and maybe, if he’s willing, help him navigate single fatherhood — falling in love with their little family was not part of the plan … but doing so changes all your lives for the better
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You take a deep breath as you enter the nursery, steeling yourself for the task ahead. As a pediatrician at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco, you’ve cared for thousands of babies over the years. But this case is different.
Baby Girl Norris, born just two hours ago, is now legally parentless after her mother signed away all parental rights. Hospital protocol demands you track down and notify the father before assuming guardianship. Easier said than done when the father is Formula 1 superstar Lando Norris.
Approaching the clear bassinet, you gaze down at the sleeping newborn. Wispy dark hair peeks out from under her pink cap. Ten tiny fingers curled into fists. She has no idea how complicated her life is about to become.
You flip through the chart again, verifying the details. Mother is French, here on a student visa. Refused to even look at the baby after a 27-hour labor, immediately signing away rights. Father listed as one Lando Norris of the United Kingdom.
You sigh, picking up the phone to dial the number listed. It rings five times before disconnecting. You try the landline for his Monaco residence with the same result. Probably outdated.
Time for plan B. You search the McLaren Racing website until you find a generic service line. Heart pounding, you dial.
“McLaren Technology Centre, this is Marie speaking.”
You take a breath. “Hello, I apologize for the strange request, but I need to reach Lando Norris as soon as possible. It’s … it’s regarding a private family matter.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Norris does not accept unsolicited communications. Have a nice-”
“Wait!” You interject. “Please, I am calling from Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. We have a newborn baby girl here, and we believe Mr. Norris may be the father.”
Marie hesitates. “Hold please, I’ll transfer you.”
Your pulse quickens. This may actually work! But your hopes are quickly dashed.
“This is Andrew from McLaren Racing public relations. May I ask who I’m speaking with?” His tone is suspicious.
You explain again about the baby, her mother, and the situation.
Andrew sighs loudly. “I’m sure you understand we get calls like this constantly. Lando isn’t even in the hemisphere right now. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”
“No, wait, please!” But the line goes dead.
You frown, gears turning. The team must think you’re some obsessed fan or scammer. You’ll have to get creative.
Over the next two days, you call every related number you can find. Each time you’re met with more resistance. They must have flagged your information as a nuisance caller.
On the third day, you’re signing charts at the nurse’s station when a colleague walks by. “Did you hear? Lando Norris is coming to take a tour of the hospital next week. Some charity thing.”
Your eyes widen. This is it — your chance to intercept him in person!
You spend the next few days obsessing over what to say, how to convince him. Baby Girl Norris needs her father.
The big day arrives. Heart hammering, you lurk near the lobby, peering around the hallway corner as Lando walks in flanked by handlers. He looks exhausted but flashes his winning smile at the staff welcoming him.
You watch them start down the opposite hallway for the tour when you make your move. Rushing forward, you plant yourself firmly in his path.
“Mr. Norris! Sorry, I need just a minute of your time, it’s urgent-”
A member of his team immediately swoops in, pushing you back. “Ma’am, please. We kindly ask that you step aside.”
“No, wait!” You raise your voice over them. “Mr. Norris, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a pediatrician here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now regarding your newborn daughter!”
The team looks exasperated, but Lando holds up a hand. “It’s okay, let her speak.” His eyes bore into yours warily.
You take a breath. “I know this sounds insane. But a baby girl was born here last week to a French student named Celeste Dubois. On the birth certificate, she named you as the father before signing away parental rights.”
You continue explaining the situation rapidly, watching Lando’s eyes widen in shock.
One of his handlers steps in. “You honestly expect us to believe this wild story? We’re on a timeline.” He tries to tug Lando along.
“No, it’s okay.” Lando stands firm, studying you intently. “What proof do you have of any of this?”
You hold his gaze. “I can show you the birth certificate, but a DNA test would confirm if you’re the father. It’s hospital policy to notify and provide the father an opportunity to assume custody.”
Lando chews his lip nervously. His team murmurs among themselves.
After a long pause, he speaks. “Even if this is some scam or mix-up, that poor child deserves to have answers. Please, lead the way for a test.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, you turn and lead Lando to the lab. His team protests but he insists on following through.
In the lab, you supervise as the technician takes a simple cheek swab. “24 to 48 hours for results,” she confirms.
Lando nods, looking dazed. “Right. Okay. If she’s really mine, I want to step up. Just call me, yeah?” He extends his number on a slip of paper.
You smile and promise to be in touch. As he turns to leave, you feel swarmed with emotions. One major hurdle down, but nothing certain yet.
The next 48 hours pass at a snail’s pace. When the lab calls, your fingers shake as you unfold the results. Positive. A 99.99% match.
You pass along the news and arrange a meeting at the hospital. The press can’t know about this yet.
Approaching the secluded waiting room, you pause to observe Lando through the window. He paces nervously, running his hands through his hair again and again. His usual polished veneer is gone, replaced by a young man anxiously awaiting life-changing news. Your heart goes out to him.
Finally knocking, he whirls around as you enter. “Well? Is she really mine?”
You nod, holding out the results. He accepts them with unsteady hands.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says quietly. “This is just ... a lot.”
“I understand. It’s a complicated situation. But you’re here now.” You offer an encouraging smile.
Lando takes a deep breath. “Can I meet her?”
You lead him to the nursery viewing room. He presses against the glass, eyes scanning until they settle on bassinet D7. His brows knit together.
“That’s her?” His voice wavers slightly.
You nod. “Would you like to go inside and hold her?”
He hesitates. “I don’t want to confuse or upset her.”
You gesture reassuringly. “Newborns seek warmth and a gentle touch. She’ll appreciate the contact.”
Looking uncertain, Lando follows you into the nursery. You lift the swaddled baby, carefully transferring her into Lando’s awkward embrace. He peers down at her, his expression unreadable.
“She’s so tiny ...” he murmurs. The newborn girl yawns, eyes still shut, snuggling instinctively into his chest.
Lando’s guarded facade finally cracks, eyes glistening. He adjusts his arms to cradle her more securely.
“Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your ...” He trails off, not quite able to say it.
You touch his shoulder gently. “You’re her father. And she needs you.”
He nods, never breaking his gaze from the newborn’s face. “I’ll do right by her, I promise. Whatever it takes.”
Relief sweeps over you. While an arduous legal process awaits, this sweet child will finally have a real family.
As Lando rocks the baby gently, he suddenly laughs. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she? Look at that hair. Thick and curly, just like her old man.”
You chuckle. “It appears so. Have you thought about a name?”
He hums contemplatively. “I’ve always been partial to Georgia. Gigi for short.”
“Georgia Norris,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
The new father beams down at his daughter. “Welcome to the world, little Gigi. I can’t wait to take you home.”
As you observe this tender moment, your heart swells for both father and daughter. With someone as loving and dedicated as Lando by her side, Gigi’s future looks bright indeed.
Watching them meet for the first time — seeing a family begin to blossom out of hardship and uncertainty — is the greatest reward of your job. As you quietly slip out to give them space, you can’t hold back a smile. Everything, after all, is turning out exactly as it should.
***
After spending over an hour bonding with his newborn daughter in the nursery, Lando reluctantly hands her back to the nurse for feeding time. He turns to you, smiling but still looking dazed.
“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. Really. You’ve given me and Gigi a new start.”
You touch his arm warmly. “Of course. I’m so glad I could help connect you two. She’s absolutely beautiful.”
Lando grins proudly. “She really is perfect. I already love her so much, it’s mad. I just ...” His face falls slightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to actually take care of a baby. Let alone with my job, traveling all the time for races and training. What have I gotten myself into?”
He runs an anxious hand through his curls. Your heart goes out to him.
“Hey, it’s okay.” You gesture for him to follow you out to the waiting room for privacy.
Lando collapses onto the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, I’m just now fully realizing what this means. A baby, she’s completely dependent on me! I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m barely an adult myself!”
You sit beside him. “Lando, look at me.” He lifts his head reluctantly. You offer an encouraging smile.
“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you stepped up when Gigi needed you most. That’s what matters. With some guidance, you’ll be an amazing father.”
He doesn’t look convinced. You continue gently, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you all the essential information for first-time parents. I’ll even set you up with parenting classes, and we have a support group-”
Lando groans loudly, letting his head fall back. You suppress a chuckle.
“Okay, forget classes for now. Just focus on learning the basics. Things like feeding, changing, bathing. Infant CPR. I’ll give you my cell to text with questions anytime. Day or night.”
You jot down your number and hand it to him. He nods, looking slightly encouraged.
“We’ll also get you connected with services that can assist first-time parents with supplies, nutrition consultants, and childcare options.”
His eyes widen again. “God, I haven’t even told my family yet! Or bought anything she’ll need!” He scrubs at his face anxiously.
You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Setbacks are expected. But you’ll get there.”
Lando takes a deep breath, regaining some composure. “You’re right. Sorry for the meltdown. I really appreciate you talking me down.”
“Don’t apologize. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t at all anxious about this huge life change.”
You smile warmly. “But you accepted your daughter unconditionally when it mattered most. Not every man in your position would do that. I know you’ll figure the rest out over time. It’s a process.”
He nods, starting to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take it step by step.”
You spend the next hour walking Lando through all the basics — safe sleep, feeding schedules, hygiene, developmental milestones, and pediatrician visits. He takes vigorous notes on his phone, determination returning to his face.
“Clothes, blankets, nappies, bottles ...” He mumbles to himself as he types. “Maybe pick up a parenting book or two as well ...”
You grin, happy to see him growing more at ease and optimistic. When the nurse returns with a sleeping Gigi, Lando immediately takes her back into his arms.
“We’ve got this, little one,” he whispers to her. “I’ll give you the absolute best in life … starting with a nice new flat for us here in Monaco.” He looks back at you questioningly.
You nod in approval. “Giving Gigi a stable home should be your top priority.”
He smiles down at the baby, gently stroking her cheek. “Daddy will take good care of you. I promise.”
Your heart swells at the natural bond already forming between father and daughter. In this moment, any lingering doubts fade away. However difficult the road ahead, together they’ll be just fine.
After another hour visiting together, it’s time for Lando to head out. He’s clearly still anxious but also radiating love when he gazes at Gigi.
“Thank you again for everything,” he says sincerely, shaking your hand. “I’ll call my parents when I get home. Figure out how to break the news and beg for their help.”
He chuckles and you join in. “Don’t hesitate to text me anytime. About anything.”
Lando glances down at your scrawled cell number, then back up with a crooked grin. “Careful or I might take you up on the anything part.”
You blush slightly, waving him off. “Get out of here, you charmer. Go buy a crib and get some rest. Your life is about to get very busy.”
With a laugh, Lando walks backwards toward the exit, pointing finger guns at you. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. Catch you later.”
You stand shaking your head as he disappears from view. What an interesting patient case this has turned out to be.
Over the next several weeks, you and Lando text constantly. He sends cute videos and photos of Gigi along with his near-constant questions about her care. You don’t mind at all — you’re happy to guide him through this life transition.
True to his word, he quickly finds and furnishes a family-friendly luxury apartment in Monaco. He introduces Gigi to his stunned but excited parents via video call. He adjusts his training schedule to maximize time with her.
When his race travel resumes, he arranges for his parents or a local nanny to assist with Gigi full-time. Still, being apart takes an obvious toll on him.
The day before he’s set to fly to Australia for the first race of the season, Lando texts you a selfie looking forlorn, with Gigi snoozing on his chest.
Can you believe she’s already a month old? I don’t want to leave her!
You grin down at the photo. Gigi’s little rosebud lips are slightly parted as she sleeps. Lando’s staring at her adoringly despite the bags under his eyes.
I know it’s hard being away from her. But Gigi knows she has a father who loves her so much. Focus on making her proud out there!
You always know just what to say, doc. I’ll text you after the race!
You smile softly as you set down your phone. Over the past weeks, you’ve found yourself looking forward to Lando’s frequent messages and photos. He’s relieved when you reassure him he’s doing a great job as a new dad. And seeing Gigi thrive and grow under his doting care makes your heart fuller.
Professionally, your work is done now that Gigi and Lando are connected. But you can’t help feeling personally invested in this little family you helped create. You make a silent vow to always be there for them both, as long as they need you.
***
Weeks later, you’re jolted awake by your ringing cellphone. Bleary-eyed, you check the time: 2:37 am. Who could be calling at this hour?
You don’t recognize the number on your buzzing phone. But you answer anyway, just in case it’s an emergency.
“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.
“Y/N? Oh thank god!” The panicked voice on the other end makes you sit bolt upright.
Lando.
“Lando? What’s wrong?” Worry floods your system, instantly washing away any grogginess.
“It’s Georgia,” he cries. “She woke up crying and felt so hot. I took her temperature — it’s 39 degrees! I think she has a fever?”
You’re already throwing off your blankets, phone tucked against your shoulder. “Okay, stay calm. How is she acting otherwise?”
“She’s crying and really fussy. Won’t take her bottle. I don’t know what to do!” Lando sounds near tears himself.
“Shhh, deep breath,” you soothe. “Fever in babies this young is serious. You need to take her to emergency department right away.”
“Right, emergency, of course-” Lando rambles nervously.
“I’ll meet you there ASAP. Princess Grace Hospital, yes?”
“Yes, please hurry!” He ends the call abruptly. You scramble for clothes with adrenaline pounding.
In under ten minutes, you’re peeling out of your driveway towards the hospital. Even at this hour, Monaco’s streets remain congested. You drum your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, praying Georgia will be okay.
Once you’ve parked, you race inside the ED doors. Your eyes scan the crowded waiting room until you spot Lando pacing in the corner, Georgia whimpering against his shoulder.
You rush over. “Lando!”
He turns, relief washing over his features. “Y/N, you came. Thank you.”
“Of course.” You squeeze his arm comfortingly before looking Georgia over with practiced eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, eyelids fluttering as she whines. Definitely not well.
Lando bounces lightly, trying to soothe her. “They told me it’s at least an hour wait. She’s getting worse though.” His eyes glisten with tears.
Your protective instincts flare, seeing them both so distraught. Striding to the check-in desk, you put on your most authoritative voice.
“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Y/L/N. I have an infant patient here who needs immediate evaluation.”
The nurse scans the packed waiting room. “I’m so sorry doctor, we’re doing our best. If you could just wait-”
You interrupt firmly. “This is a seven week old with a spiking fever. She requires urgent triage and treatment, not a waiting room. I must insist we be seen next.”
The nurse purses her lips, but can’t really argue with your reasoning. “Of course. I’ll let the charge nurse know to get you back immediately.”
You nod curtly before returning to Lando, who looks awed. “Blimey, remind me not to get on your bad side.”
The hint of a smile on his lips relieves you. Georgia’s still fussy as you both follow a nurse back moments later.
In an exam room, you help transfer the baby from Lando’s arms to the table. Her pitiful crying tugs at your heart.
Lando hovers anxiously as you take Georgia’s vitals and change her into a hospital gown. 39.1°C — higher than the concerning range for an infant. You frown in worry. Poor little love.
Soon the attending pediatrician arrives to assess her. You explain the situation from Lando’s frantic call to racing over. The doctor asks questions while examining Georgia’s ears, throat, and reflexes. Lando clutches your hand tightly the entire time.
After what feels like an eternity, the pediatrician steps back. “Given the fever with no apparent source, I’m concerned this could be a serious bacterial infection. We’ll run labs to check for things like meningitis. Start IV antibiotics and paracetamol to bring her fever down quickly.”
Lando pales, swaying slightly at the onslaught of medical terms. You slip an arm around him supportively.
“You’re saying she might have meningitis?” Lando chokes out.
The doctor holds up his hands. “It’s just one possibility. We’re not sure yet. The labs will tell us more.”
Lando buries his face in his hands. Your heart breaks seeing his shoulders shaking.
After the doctor departs to order tests, you guide Lando to sit down, keeping an arm around him. “Hey, try to breathe. Georgia needs her daddy calm and strong right now.”
Lando drags a hand over his wet eyes. “God, I’m trying. But she’s so little and sick. What if … what if it’s something serious?” His voice breaks again.
You turn him gently to face you, hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever is going on, we will figure it out, okay? I’m right here with you both.”
He searches your face before nodding unsteadily. You draw him into a fierce hug.
“We’ve got this,” you whisper.
A nurse entering startles you apart. “Alright, time for labs.”
You both watch anxiously as she collects blood and other samples from a deeply unhappy Georgia. Her shrieking cries at the poking and prodding are harrowing. Lando has gone deathly pale.
Once finished, the nurse situates an IV line in Georgia’s tiny hand, securing it with tape and popping a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyelids droop, cries fading to soft whimpers as medication starts flowing.
You glance at Lando. “Why don’t you hold her again? Skin to skin contact will help soothe you both.”
Looking relieved by the suggestion, Lando strips off his shirt and takes Georgia, nestling her against his bare chest. You drape a blanket over them before rubbing his back comfortingly.
Georgia’s fussing settles as her father hums softly, eyes never leaving her face. The pure love between them makes your throat tighten.
Despite the uncertainty ahead, you know Georgia couldn’t be in better hands. And you silently vow to remain steadfast by their side, for whatever comes next.
Eventually Georgia drifts to sleep. The pediatrician returns shortly after with test results. “Good news. All the cultures are negative so far. With the antibiotics and paracetamol, her fever is already decreasing.”
You and Lando both sigh in relief.
“So no meningitis?” Lando asks hopefully.
The doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t appear to be. We’ll repeat testing tomorrow, but likely just a minor bacterial infection. She’ll need to stay a few days for monitoring and fluids.”
Lando clutches Georgia closer. “Anything she needs. Thank you, doctor.”
Once you’re alone again, Lando gazes down at his sleeping daughter. “I was so scared,” he admits softly.
You nod, squeezing his shoulder. “I know. But she’s getting great care now. Try and rest — it’s been a long night.”
Lando glances at the empty cot along the wall. “Stay? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone right now.” His voice sounds so small and vulnerable.
Your chest tightens. “Of course.”
You help shift Lando and Georgia onto the little bed. She stirs slightly as you both get settled on either side of her.
Lando strokes Georgia’s cheek tenderly. “My brave girl. You’re going to be just fine.” Glancing up, his eyes meet yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”
You offer a tired smile, taking his hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep.”
Exhaustion quickly pulls you under. But Lando’s hand remains wrapped firmly in yours until morning.
A strong bond has formed between the three of you. And you know that whatever the future brings, you’ll be facing it together.
***
A few weeks after the scare, you’re finishing paperwork at your desk when your cell rings. Lando’s name pops up, making you smile.
Since the hospitalization, you and Lando have fallen into a routine of near daily calls and texts about Georgia. You don’t mind at all — you adore hearing the latest antics and milestones of your special little patient. Not to mention Lando’s voice tends to brighten your day.
You answer warmly. “Lando! How are my favorite patients today?”
He chuckles. “Well, Georgia just mastered holding her head up while on her tummy. She’s getting so strong! But uh, that’s actually why I’m calling ...”
You detect the hesitancy in his tone. “What’s up?”
Lando sighs. “So McLaren just sprung a mandatory sponsorship meeting on me last minute. It’s in like an hour. I don’t have any childcare lined up though.”
You frown sympathetically. The demands of Lando’s career often collide with new parenthood. “Oh no. Can you reschedule or bring Georgia with you?”
“I tried, but it’s impossible to postpone. And definitely not an ideal environment for a baby,” he laments. “I don’t have any family nearby and my usual nanny said it’s too short notice.”
Your thoughts race, heart sinking at imagining his distress. “Hmm. Well, do you happen to have any trusted neighbors or friends there who could babysit?”
Lando makes a frustrated noise. “I’ve barely met my neighbors. And my mates, well, most are even less qualified than me for childcare. I’m stuck.” Defeat colors his tone.
You bite your lip, hesitating only a moment before saying gently, “Lando, I could come watch her.”
“What? Really?” He sounds stunned. “But isn’t it your day off?”
“It’s no problem, truly,” you insist. “I don’t live far. Be there in fifteen?”
“I-I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thank you, thank you!” Lando gushes gratefully.
You smile, already grabbing your keys. “Anytime. See you soon!”
On the drive over, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You adore Georgia, of course. But something about visiting Lando’s home, being fully immersed in his world, feels monumentally intimate.
Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that your priority is helping a friend in need.
You park outside Lando’s sleek modern condo building and take the elevator up after checking in with the concierge. Before you can even knock, the front door swings open.
“Y/N, thank god,” Lando sighs in relief. He looks unfairly attractive despite being slightly disheveled in a dress shirt and slacks. “Please, come in.”
Stepping inside the open concept condo, your eyes sweep over minimalist furniture and racing memorabilia decorating the shelves. Cozy baby items like a playmat and bouncer provide stark contrast. It’s uniquely Lando.
“Nice place,” you remark sincerely.
“Thanks. Still feels empty sometimes, but slowly making it a home for Gigi.” He smiles softly. “Speaking of which ...”
You follow Lando down a short hallway to the nursery. Your heart melts at the sight of Georgia kicking on a playmat, wearing a pink romper with a giant bow.
Lando swoops her up, blowing raspberries on her cheek. “Daddy’s got a big important meeting, princess. But Y/N is going to play with you instead.”
He passes the baby over. Georgia gives you a gummy smile, cooing.
“There’s my sweet girl.” You tickle her belly, eliciting a giggle. Lando beams proudly.
“Alright, her bottle is prepped in the fridge, and there’s clean nappies on the change table. Call if you need anything at all.”
Lando leans down to kiss Georgia’s head. “Be good for Y/N, monkey.”
With a final grateful smile your way, he heads out. You settle on the nursery floor with Georgia. “What adventures shall we have today, miss?”
The next few hours pass in a blur of playing, feeding, changing, and rocking little Georgia. You even manage a nap time by singing softly, something that always seemed to soothe her in the hospital.
Watching her sleep, you feel a rush of tenderness for the tiny being who has depended on you since her first moments. You vow to always be there when Lando and Georgia need you.
Soon enough, Lando returns home looking drained. But his whole face lights up seeing you and Georgia on the floor.
“How’d it go?” He asks, crouching down to tickle her toes.
“Perfect. We had lots of fun, isn’t that right, lovebug?” You hand the baby over for cuddles.
“Daddy missed you.” Lando nuzzles Georgia, before giving you a grateful smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a natural with her.”
You wave off his praise, but can’t deny the warm spark his words ignite.
After chatting a bit more about Georgia’s afternoon and Lando’s meeting, it’s time for you to head out.
At the door, Lando halts you with a gentle hand on your wrist.
“Hey, let me take you to dinner this week — a proper thank you,” he entreats. “Anywhere you like.”
Your pulse quickens. It sounds suspiciously close to a date. But Lando’s smiling hopefully, and you find yourself nodding before overthinking it.
“I’d love that.”
Lando grins, looking both relieved and excited. “Brilliant! I’ll text you details. Have a safe drive home.”
Strapping into your car, your thoughts race wildly. This man and his daughter have captured your heart. What started as a professional duty has grown into so much more.
As you drive away, Lando and Georgia waving from the window, you can’t keep the giddy smile off your face.
Your lives are intertwining in the most marvelous ways. And you can’t wait to see what adventures are in store next.
***
The following Saturday evening, you stand in front of the mirror, fussing with your hair and makeup. Glancing at the clock, you feel butterflies swarming. Lando will arrive any minute to pick you up for dinner.
You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your knee-length black dress. It’s daringly low cut for you, but you want to feel beautiful tonight.
A buzz from your phone makes you jolt. Lando is here! Taking a deep breath, you grab your purse and hurry downstairs.
Stepping outside your apartment building, you freeze in awe. Gleaming in the golden hour sunlight is a sleek dark blue vintage supercar unlike any other you’ve seen before.
The driver door opens, and Lando steps out looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. He beams. “Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.”
You blush at the sincerity in his warm gaze. “Thank you. This is … quite the car!”
Lando grins, patting the hood affectionately. “She’s my baby — a Lamborghini Miura. Isn’t she a beauty?”
You take in the aerodynamic lines and what you can only assume is a very powerful engine. “Gorgeous. And probably costs more than my yearly income.”
Lando laughs. “But she’s perfect for impressing a lovely date.” He winks before opening the passenger door for you.
You carefully climb in, hyper aware of the tiny black dress riding up your thighs. Lando’s eyes trace your legs appreciatively as you smooth your skirt.
Soon you’re zipping through the seaside city, wind whipping your hair through the open windows. Lando navigates the roads expertly.
He glances your way. “Hope this is alright! Wanted to take the fun car out while the weather holds up.”
You grin at him. “Are you kidding? I feel like a movie star!”
He looks delighted, picking up speed as you both relax into the ride.
Before long, you pull up at the legendary Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. A uniformed valet opens your door. Taking the proffered hand, you step out feeling like a princess.
Lando offers his arm. “Shall we?”
Inside the opulent restaurant, you’re quickly shown to an intimate table beside a window overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea. Soft piano music fills the space.
“Lando, this is incredible,” you breathe, taking it all in.
He smiles, eyes never leaving your face. “Only the best for you.”
You blush again at his sincerity. A waiter appears to take your drink order. When you request just water, Lando insists you pick any wine on the menu.
You settle on a creamy chardonnay that pairs perfectly with your scallops and Lando’s steak. Thoughtful touches like him pulling out your chair or refilling your wine glass make the lavish meal all the more special.
The conversation flows effortlessly from racing to traveling to favourite films and music. More than once, Lando’s foot brushes yours beneath the table, sending sparks skittering across your skin.
After dessert, you both linger over coffee, hands unconsciously joined on the pristine tablecloth between you. The connection humming between you feels profound.
When Lando finally checks his watch with a reluctant sigh, you’re surprised to see you’ve been there for over three hours. It felt like mere minutes.
On the drive back, you steal glances at his sharp profile in the fading light. Joy bubbles inside you. The evening exceeded your wildest expectations.
Too soon, you’re pulling up outside your building. Lando hurries around to open your door, ever the gentleman. Clasping his hand, you step out onto the curb together.
Turning, you find him watching you closely. “I had the most wonderful time tonight,” you say sincerely.
Lando’s face breaks into a grin. “Truly magical. Thank you for coming, Y/N.” He squeezes your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles.
On impulse, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Lando.”
With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk inside, casting a coy look back to see him touching his cheek in wonder.
Safely in your apartment, you kick off your heels, collapsing onto the sofa with a giddy smile. The evening played in your mind like a movie — the fancy car, exquisite dinner, effortless conversation. And that powerful connection with Lando blossoming into something new and tender.
What started as a professional relationship has organically grown into a deep friendship over your shared love of little Georgia. But tonight awoke a yearning for more. You sensed the same from Lando in the way he looked at you — with affection, wonder, and desire.
You drift off on the couch still reliving each vivid moment. This feels like the start of something life changing.
Meanwhile, Lando remains fixed outside your building, fingers brushing the spot your lips graced. The soft press seared an imprint deep within him.
People had warned him pursuing anything romantic with Georgia’s physician was unwise. But from the instant he saw you holding his fragile newborn girl, instinct told him you were special. That only grew each day as your compassion and devotion soothed his frightened heart.
Tonight confirmed what he felt blooming for weeks now — he’s completely enchanted by you.
With your laughter still echoing in his mind, Lando finally drives off into the night. He knows his future, wherever it leads, must have you and Georgia in it. He’s falling, fast and hard.
And for once, recklessly chasing his heart feels entirely right. He just hopes you’ll take this leap with him.
***
On a sunny afternoon, you’re sitting cross-legged on Lando’s living room rug playing with Georgia. At nearly four months old now, she’s mastered rolling over and absolutely loves tummy time.
You grin as she determinedly pushes up on her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s it, clever girl! You’ve almost got it.”
Georgia gives you a gummy smile before toppling over with a huff. Behind you, Lando chuckles from the couch where he’s on hold with a takeaway place.
“I swear she gets more stubborn every day. Definitely takes after me,” he remarks fondly.
You smile. “She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to work for it. Sound familiar?”
Lando laughs. “Too right. At this rate, she’ll be racing cars herself soon.”
You’re about to respond when the sound of the front door opening makes you both freeze. Before you can react, an accented female voice calls out excitedly.
“Lando, darling! Surprise, we’ve come to visit!”
Lando flies off the couch just as his parents round the corner. “Mum! Dad! What are you doing here?”
He embraces them both tightly while you hover awkwardly behind Georgia. What must Lando’s family think finding a strange woman playing with their grandchild?
But before you can open your mouth to explain, Lando’s mum spots you. Her face lights up. “Y/N! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!”
To your shock, she swoops down and hugs you like a long lost relative. Bewildered, you return the embrace.
Over her shoulder, Lando rubs his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I may have told them a fair bit about you and Gigi ...”
His father approaches next, politely shaking your hand. “Lando speaks very highly of you, Y/N. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy and the little one.”
“Oh, um, of course!” You manage to stammer out. Lando mentioned you to his parents? The thought makes your heart flutter wildly.
Before you can dwell on it, Georgia lets out an impatient shriek from her abandoned tummy time.
Cisca gasps, immediately scooping her up. “Oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten, baby girl!” She tickles Georgia’s belly, eliciting sweet giggles.
Lando smiles softly at the sight. You feel privileged to witness this intimate family moment.
Soon you’re all seated around the living room, chatting comfortably. Adam keeps throwing not-so-subtle winks Lando’s way whenever you and Cisca fawn over Georgia together. Lando just shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushed.
Later, his parents insist on taking you both out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Over the meal, you observe how Cisca’s animated mannerisms and Adam’s dry wit remind you so much of Lando. He clearly inherited the best of both.
Walking back to the car afterwards, Cisca links her arm through yours fondly. “I’m just thrilled Lando has you looking after him and little Georgia. It takes a very special woman to so selflessly love and support someone else’s child.”
You squeeze her arm, touched. “Well, they make it easy. I’d do anything for those two.”
Cisca pats your hand knowingly. “I can see that, dear. Don’t ever let my son take that for granted.”
Glancing ahead, you watch Lando swinging a sleepy Georgia in his arms, gazing down at her with pure adoration. Your heart clenches.
“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s the most devoted father imaginable,” you reply softly.
Cisca follows your gaze, smiling. “He is at that. Just like his own.”
Adam wraps an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Cisca leans into him with a contented sigh. Their easy intimacy and abiding love is relationship goals.
You find yourself sneaking another peek at Lando, imagining strolling arm in arm like that one day. But it’s too soon for such daydreams.
Still, meeting his wonderful parents today, seeing how he talks about you … it feels like things are shifting into place.
That night, as Lando walks you to your car, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Thank you again for today. You were brilliant with my parents — they’re absolutely smitten.”
You grin. “They’re lovely. I see where you get it from.”
Lando rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully. An impulse has you leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“Goodnight, Lando.” With a little wave, you slip into your car before he can respond.
But the awestruck look on Lando’s face stays with you the whole drive home. Something big is on the horizon, you can feel it.
And if the way his family embraced you today is any indication, you have their full support too. You’ve never been more excited about what the future holds.
***
A few days later, you’re rushing around your apartment getting ready. Lando invited you over for dinner and a movie tonight while his parents watch Georgia. You’ve been looking forward to the rare child-free evening all week.
After debating outfit options, you decide on form fitting jeans and a silky camisole. Casual yet flirty. Dabbing on a bit of perfume, you check yourself in the mirror. You want to knock his socks off.
Precisely at six, your phone chimes with a text from Lando that he’s waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you go meet him.
As expected, he looks effortlessly handsome leaning against his flashy car grinning at you. “Well don’t you look gorgeous tonight,” he remarks, opening your door.
You smirk, settling into the low seat. “Not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Norris.”
Lando just winks before speeding off into the golden hour sunlight. You chat easily throughout the short drive about your days apart. When you mention missing Georgia, Lando smiles softly.
“Me too, constantly. But she’s in great hands with my parents tonight.” Reaching over, he gives your hand an affectionate squeeze that makes your heart race.
Soon you pull up outside Lando’s sleek condo building. He leads you upstairs, fingers entwined.
Inside, mouthwatering aromas fill the air. You follow Lando to the kitchen where pots bubble away on the stove.
“I hope you’re hungry. My dad’s recipe for chicken curry.” Lando stirs one of the pots before glancing at you shyly. “I may have been practicing all week.”
You grin, touched that he went to such effort. “It smells incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Full of surprises.” Lando winks. “Now you just relax while I finish up.”
You perch at the kitchen island while Lando works. The domesticity of it all makes your chest feel warm. You could definitely get used to this.
Soon dinner is served along with a crisp white wine. You compliment Lando between bites, making him preen. Everything is delicious.
Over dessert, your feet become entangled beneath the small table. The simmering looks passing between you leave no doubt this is a date.
With dishes cleared, Lando leads you to the living room. “Now, the entertainment portion of the evening.” He gestures grandly towards the large TV.
You settle onto the plush grey sectional while Lando queues up your chosen rom-com. Before pressing play, he pauses.
“Do you maybe want to get more comfortable?” He gestures to the blanket and abundance of throw pillows nearby.
You smile, touched at how he’s trying to create a cozy movie watching environment. “That sounds perfect.”
Working together, you both strip down to t-shirts and lounge pants, then arrange the pillows and blankets into a comfy nest. Your heart races at the intimacy of it all.
Lando opens his arms for you to curl against his chest. You sigh, breathing in his comforting scent. His steady heartbeat thrums beneath your ear as the movie starts.
About halfway through, you glance up to see Lando staring down at you tenderly, movie forgotten. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up. Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in as his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss.
Everything around you fades away. The only sensation is Lando’s gentle lips moving with yours, laced with warmth and affection.
When you finally break apart, faces lingering close, he exhales shakily. “Wow. That was ...”
“Perfect,” you whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. Lando nuzzles into your touch.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits with a crooked smile.
You grin. “What took you so long?”
Lando laughs, pulling you closer again. Your lips find their way back together naturally. With your legs entwined and his hand trailing up and down your back, you lose all track of time and space.
Eventually you pull back just to catch your breath, lips pleasantly swollen. Lando strokes your hair tenderly.
“Y/N, you must know by now how truly special you are to me. From the moment we met, I felt fate bringing us together. And I never want to let you go.” His eyes search yours intently.
Your pulse quickens. “Lando ...”
“What I’m trying to say is ...” He takes a deep breath. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”
Joy erupts inside you as you throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, I’d love nothing more!”
Lando’s delighted laughter vibrates against you as he squeezes you tight. You stay locked in an embrace, trading giddy kisses until sleepiness inevitably sets in.
Lando carries you to bed, tucking you both under the covers with your head pillowed on his chest. You drift off smiling, his steady heartbeat your lullaby.
Waking wrapped in Lando’s arms the next morning feels like pure bliss. He stirs, blinking awake to see you watching him fondly.
“Morning, beautiful.” Lando caresses your cheek before capturing your lips in a tender good morning kiss.
You hum contentedly. “I could get very used to this.”
“Well luckily, you’re my girlfriend now. So you’re stuck with me.” He grins playfully.
You snuggle impossibly closer. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”
***
On a sunny spring morning, you’re in Lando’s kitchen pureeing some bananas for Georgia’s breakfast. At nearly one year old now, she’s mastered eating soft finger foods.
Lando wanders in with Georgia propped on his hip, her dark curls tied up in adorable pigtails. “Someone’s ready for her breakfast!”
You grin, smoothing Georgia’s hair back to kiss her chubby cheek. “Morning, my darling! Got your bananas all ready.”
Lando settles Georgia into her high chair, handing you her baby spoon shaped like a rabbit. “Not sure who’s more excited about mealtimes now, her or me,” he jokes.
You laugh. “Gotta get our girl fed so she has energy to get into everything!”
Georgia bangs her hands impatiently on the tray until you scoop up a spoonful of bananas. “Alright, here comes the Formula 1 car!”
You zoom the spoon around playfully before popping it in her mouth. Georgia squeals in delight, kicking her little feet.
Lando leans against the counter smiling as you continue taking turns feeding her. When the last bites are finished, he grabs a washcloth to wipe Georgia’s sticky face and hands.
“Who’s my big girl eating like such a pro?” He coos, tickling her belly. Georgia dissolves into adorable giggles.
Setting the washcloth down, Lando brushes a stray banana strand from her hair. “You’re the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world. Yes you are!”
Georgia beams up at him, waving her hands excitedly. Then clear as day, she exclaims “Mama!”
You freeze in shock. Did she just ...
Lando’s eyes fly to yours, equally stunned. An awkward tension instantly permeates the room.
“I-I never encouraged that, I swear,” Lando rushes to explain, panicked. “I always call you by name when I talk about you to her.”
“No no, of course, I didn’t think-” You halt, flustered. “I would never try to make her call me ...” You can’t even say it, heart pounding wildly.
A heavy silence falls. You avert your eyes, anxiously twisting the washcloth between your hands.
Lando scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she ...” He trails off helplessly.
After a long pause, Lando touches your arm gently. “Hey, look at me?”
You reluctantly meet his earnest gaze. Lando takes your hands in his, tone serious.
“Y/N, you must know how much I respect your role in Georgia’s life. We’re partners in this, fully. I would never try to force a maternal label on you.”
His obvious sincerity makes you instantly relax. Offering a small smile, you squeeze his hands.
“Of course. I didn’t think that. It just took me by surprise is all.” You take a deep breath before continuing hesitantly.
“But, well … the idea of Georgia seeing me that way doesn’t scare me. Not if it happens naturally.” You chance a glance at Lando through your lashes.
His eyes soften. “Truly?” At your shy nod, a smile spreads across his face.
“Because, well, I was thinking the same.” Lando cradles your face between his palms. “You already are a mum to her in every way that matters.”
You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Joy and relief flood your system.
Georgia makes an impatient noise, breaking the tender spell. You both chuckle.
Lando lifts her from the chair into his arms. “Don’t worry princess, your mama isn’t going anywhere.”
Hearing those words from Lando sends your heart soaring. You join the cuddle, Georgia nestled happily between you.
“Our sweet girl,” Lando murmurs, meeting your gaze over her little head. The pure love reflected back at you erases any lingering doubts.
You place a soft kiss to Georgia’s curls, then lean up to capture Lando’s lips. The promise of your future together never felt stronger.
Many more milestones await, for Georgia and your relationship both. But you know without question that the bonds between you three will only continue growing deeper.
Of all the twists and turns on this journey, your little family is the sweetest gift of all.
***
The day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawns bright and clear. You finish braiding Georgia’s hair as she babbles happily. At 18 months old now, her vocabulary expands daily.
“There we go, pretty girl! All set to cheer on Daddy!”
Georgia grins. “Dada race!”
You smile, smoothing her dress. “That’s right, darling!”
A knock sounds right before Lando pokes his head into the nursery. “My two favorite girls about ready?”
Scooping up Georgia, you turn so he can admire her race day outfit. “Well don’t we look beautiful!” Lando tickles Georgia’s tummy before pulling you both into a hug.
“I can’t tell you how much it means to have you both here today,” he says softly.
You squeeze him tight. As a pediatrician, getting full weekends off for races proved nearly impossible. But for Monaco, you moved mountains.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assure him. Lando’s responding smile warms your heart.
The energy at the track is electric. Georgia’s eyes widen taking in all the sights and sounds. You carry her through the paddock towards the McLaren garage, Lando greeting various people along the way.
Inside, Lando steals a quick kiss. “I better go get suited up. See you after?”
You nod, adjusting a squirmy Georgia on your hip. “We’ll be cheering the loudest!”
Lando changes into his race suit, then leads you both over to his car. Georgia is mesmerized, reaching a tiny hand towards the shiny machine.
“That’s right munchkin, this is what Daddy drives!” Lando points out key features, then grabs a helmet from a crew member.
“Want to try it on?” Not waiting for an answer, Lando gently fits the helmet over Georgia’s curls. She immediately shrieks in delight.
Laughing, Lando scoops her up, zooming her around like she’s driving. “Look at you, a future champion in the making!”
You snap some photos of the adorable scene until it’s time for Lando to go off with his performance coach. After one last kiss for both of you, he disappears into the controlled pre-race chaos.
An assistant escorts you to the McLaren hospitality suite overlooking the pit lane. The view of the gleaming harbor and yachts reminds you this race is unlike anywhere else.
As start time nears, you cuddle a restless Georgia close, pointing out Lando’s car lined up on the grid. “See? There’s Daddy! He’s about to go racing.” Her little brow furrows, not quite understanding.
When the lights go out, Georgia startles at the loud roar of engines. Rubbing her back soothingly, you keep your eyes glued to the screen as the cars hurtle towards the tight first corner bottleneck.
“Come on Lando,” you murmur under your breath. He emerges from the chaos in 4th position. Off to a promising start.
Over the next 90 minutes, you fluctuate between pure elation and anxiety as the race unfolds. A collision forces Lando to pit unexpectedly. Just as your heart rate settles, another car spins right in front of him, spraying debris across the track.
But Lando holds his nerve, keeping the car under control to cross the line in P3. You leap up, cheering loudly with Georgia.
Soon Lando emerges, hair damp from the obligatory champagne shower.
His race suit is unzipped to the waist as he sweeps you both into an exuberant hug. “You did so good,” you murmur into his neck. Pulling back, Lando caresses Georgia’s head where it rests heavily on your shoulder.
“Little one tuckered herself out cheering for Daddy, hmm?” He takes her gently as she nuzzles into his chest with a yawn.
“Let’s get my best girls home.” With Georgia cradled in one arm and the other around your waist, Lando leads you out of the paddock like a proud family man. Your heart feels fit to burst.
That night after Georgia is tucked into bed, you curl up together on the couch. The TV plays highlights of the race you lived firsthand.
Lando absently strokes your hair. “You know, the lads invited me out to celebrate tonight.”
You lift your head. “Oh really? You should go have fun!”
But Lando just smiles, pulling you closer. “And miss this? Not a chance.” He kisses you tenderly. “Partying in Monaco holds nothing on being with my two favorite people.”
You kiss him again, touched. However far Lando’s career takes him, you know his heart will remain right here with you and Georgia.
***
Summer finally arrives, bringing a short respite between races for Lando. Eager to make the most of it, you suggest visiting your hometown to introduce him and Georgia to your parents.
“They’d love to finally meet you both,” you say over breakfast one morning.
Lando smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That sounds brilliant, love. I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”
You grin excitedly. “It’s nothing glamorous like Monaco. But I have so many good memories there.”
With plans made, you set off early one sunny Saturday morning, boarding a flight with Georgia securely buckled into her carrier. She babbles happily for most of the flight, enchanted by the clouds and miniature landscape passing below. Lando keeps one hand firmly clasped in yours the entire time.
Late afternoon, you finally pull up outside the cozy house you grew up in. Taking a deep breath, you unbuckle a sleepy Georgia from her seat.
“We’re here, Gigi! Ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?”
She rubs her eyes with a tiny fist, still drowsy. Lando comes around to lift her into his arms.
“Someone’s a bit tired from all the traveling, huh? Maybe a quick nap first?” He kisses Georgia’s fuzzy head as she snuggles into his shoulder.
You nod, smoothing down her rumpled sundress. Taking Lando’s free hand, you head up the front walk.
Before you can even knock, the front door swings open. Your mum stands beaming at the threshold.
“Y/N! Oh, let me see her!” She sweeps you into a tight hug before immediately cooing over a now awake Georgia. “What an absolute darling!”
You grin. “Mom, meet your granddaughter, Georgia.” Saying it out loud sends a little thrill through you.
Your mother gently strokes Georgia’s dark curls. “Look at all this beautiful hair! Those eyes are all her daddy though.” She smiles warmly at Lando.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lando says politely, shaking her extended hand.
“Oh please, call me Y/M/N! Now come in, come in!” She ushers you both inside the familiar cozy house.
Your dad appears from his office to exchange hearty handshakes and hugs. Lando looks slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic welcome.
Sensing this, you squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Why don’t I put Georgia down for her nap? You guys chat.”
Lando shoots you a grateful smile. You disappear down the hall to your childhood bedroom, now converted to a cozy nursery space. Georgia is out like a light before you’ve even finished tucking her in.
Returning to the living room, you pause in the doorway, heart swelling at the scene. Lando sits between your parents on the sofa as they animatedly show him your baby photos. His eyes shine taking it all in. This is the sense of family he’s long craved.
Eventually Georgia wakes, cranky and clingy. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent as you rub her back.
“I know, lots of new things happening today. But you’re being so brave.” Dropping a kiss to her curls, you return to the living room.
Your mother immediately reaches for Georgia, who goes willingly into her arms. “Come sit with Grandma, sweetheart.”
Settling on the couch between your parents again, Lando slips an arm around your shoulders. Georgia babbles happily from your mother’s lap.
The rest of the day passes comfortably as your parents dote on their new granddaughter. Watching your mom help Georgia toddle around the yard, your dad pushing her on the tree swing, Lando’s arm stays wrapped securely around you.
That night after Georgia is down, you find Lando out on the back porch gazing up at the stars. You join him on the steps, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“You okay?”
Lando looks down at you with a soft smile. “More than. Today was really special.”
He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing how your parents just immediately welcomed us into the family … it means everything. I never expected to find this.” His voice turns thick with emotion.
You lift your head to meet his sincere gaze, heart brimming over. No words needed, you convey it all in a tender kiss.
When you eventually pull apart, foreheads touching, Lando exhales shakily. “Being here with you and Gigi, it just feels so right. Like we were always meant to be a family.”
Joyful tears prick your eyes hearing him voice the same feeling living inside you. You cradle his face gently.
“We were, Lando. From that very first day in the hospital, I knew fate brought us together for a reason.”
Lando’s responding smile could outshine the moon and stars overhead. He kisses you again, soft and unhurried, arms encircling you on that familiar back porch.
***
Two years to the day after that fateful first meeting, you’re finishing rounds in the maternity ward when your supervisor requests you in her office. Brow furrowed, you make your way down the hall and knock lightly.
“Come in!”
You step inside to find her beaming behind her desk. “Y/N! Please, have a seat.”
Perplexed, you settle into the plush chair across from her. “Is everything okay?”
“Better than okay, I’d say.” She grins and slides an official document across the desk towards you. “Take a look at this.”
You scan the letter, eyes widening. It’s a notice of a 250,000 euro donation to the hospital’s maternity ward and nursery … made in your name.
“What? This must be a mistake, I didn’t ...” You trail off, completely baffled.
Your supervisor laughs. “Oh it’s quite real, I assure you. In fact, the donor himself insisted on being here today to celebrate.”
Before you can respond, a knock sounds. You turn to see Lando stroll in, right on cue, with a grinning Georgia perched on his hip.
“Lando!” You gasp. “Did you … is this from you?”
He smiles almost shyly, setting Georgia down so she can toddle over to you. “Wanted to do something meaningful to mark the anniversary of when we first met.”
You stand frozen in shock as Georgia crashes into your legs. Scooping her up, you turn back to Lando with tears in your eyes.
“This is too much, I … I don’t know what to say.” You glance between him and your equally emotional supervisor.
Lando moves closer, taking your hands in his. “Say you’ll come with me for a proper celebration? Just the three of us?” He brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes twinkling.
Unable to form words, you simply nod. Lando’s face lights up with that smile that still makes your heart skip.
After signing some paperwork and hugging your supervisor profusely, you allow Lando to lead you out to the car, Georgia babbling happily between you. But instead of heading home, he drives to the glittering harbor front.
There, you gasp to see a magnificent yacht floating ready at the dock. A crew in crisp white uniforms wait nearby.
Lando grins at your stunned reaction. “Told you we’re celebrating in style today!”
The staff smiles warmly as you board, cooing over Georgia toddling around excitedly. She especially loves watching the foam trail behind the yacht as it pulls away from shore.
You stand wrapped in Lando’s arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” you murmur.
Lando presses a kiss to your temple. “You deserve it all and more, my love.”
You pass a blissful afternoon on the water, enjoying a gourmet lunch and each other’s company. Lando is attentive as ever, making sure you want for nothing.
As the sun dips low, a crew member approaches. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be arriving shortly. Please follow me downstairs to prepare.”
You glance questioningly at Lando, but he just smiles and urges you to follow with Georgia. Down in your luxurious cabin, an elegant evening gown awaits on the bed alongside a tiny version for Georgia.
Your heart flutters wildly now. Lando is clearly planning something major. You help Georgia into her dress, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation.
A knock at the door announces the crew member has returned. “We’ve arrived back at port, whenever you’re ready.”
Back up top, Lando stands waiting in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. He looks devastatingly handsome.
Taking your hand, he leads you down the gangplank onto the dock where a car waits to whisk you away into the hills overlooking the sea. The sunset bathes everything in golden light.
When the car stops at a secluded lookout point, Lando helps you out then retrieves a sleepy Georgia. Hand in hand, you approach the cliff edge.
Down below, a massive light display flashes to life along the shoreline. You gasp as the glowing words become clear:
Y/N, will you marry me?
You clap a hand over your mouth, spinning to Lando with tears pooling in your eyes. He’s down on one knee, Georgia sitting next to him playing with flower petals.
“Two years ago, you came into our lives and changed everything,” Lando begins emotionally. “Your compassion and selflessness as a doctor saved my fragile new family.”
He takes a shaky breath. “But you gave me so much more than that. Your kindness, your beauty inside and out, your incredible love for me and Georgia … you’re my dream come true.”
Tears spill freely down your cheeks as Lando pulls out a glittering diamond ring. “So Y/N Y/L/N, nothing would make me happier than for you to officially become my family. Will you marry me?”
A joyful sob escapes you as you sink down, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Lando, a million times yes!”
His relieved laughter vibrates against you. When you pull back, Lando takes your hand gently to slide the exquisite ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.
Georgia seems to sense the significance of the moment and toddles over to wrap her little arms around your legs. You lift her into a fierce hug between you.
“I love you both so very much,” you whisper emotionally. Lando’s responding smile outshines the luminous lights along the shore.
Cradling your faces in his hands, he seals his proposal with the sweetest kiss as the sunset fades to twilight.
You linger wrapped in Lando’s arms, Georgia nestled between you, as the first stars emerge overhead. Right here, surrounded by your little family, you’ve never felt happier or more at peace.
It’s extraordinary what two short years can bring — unexpected joy, profound purpose, and a love greater than you dared dream.
The brightest days are still ahead. But tonight, in this perfect moment, you know you’ve already found everything you’ll ever need.
***
The day of your wedding to Lando dawns bright and sunny — perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea.
Inside the bridal suite, your mother puts the final pins in your elegant updo while your bridesmaids fuss over the train of your lace gown.
A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. When you turn to face him in your wedding finery, his eyes well up.
“Oh sweetheart … you look absolutely beautiful.”
You immediately tear up too, embracing him tightly. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup before I’ve even walked down the aisle!”
He laughs wetly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Couldn’t help it! My girl is all grown up.”
Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself in the exquisite dress and pinned-back curls. But the overwhelmed bride staring back has the same little girl dreams you harbored all those years ago. Dreams that are finally coming true today.
Another quick knock precedes Georgia toddling in, chubby legs pumping. Your flower girl is absolutely angelic in her silky dress.
“Mama, pwetty!” She declares, rushing over for cuddles. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent you adore.
“You look so beautiful, my love.” Blinking back fresh tears, you smooth down her unruly curls. “Ready to walk down the aisle with flowers?”
Georgia just grins and reaches for your necklace. You tickle her belly, making her dissolve into adorable giggles. Your heart swells with love for your daughter.
Too soon, the wedding coordinator is poking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just about time!”
Butterflies erupt as everyone hustles to line up. Your father tucks your arm through his, beaming with pride. Just outside the doors, Georgia toddles down the petal-strewn aisle ahead of you both.
Then the soaring orchestral processional begins, and you step out into the golden afternoon sunlight. Gasps and murmurs rise at the sight of your dramatic gown trailing behind.
But your eyes lock instantly on Lando under the flower-woven arch, looking devastatingly handsome in his slate grey suit. His face lights up, and you know that your own mirrors the same wonder and joy.
The ceremony passes in a blur of emotions. Before you know it, the officiant instructs you and Lando to face each other and take hands. Time for the vows.
You go first, hands shaking as you pull out your prepared words. But speaking from the heart comes easily.
“Lando, when we first met under the most unexpected circumstances, I had no idea of the amazing journey we’d go on together. My job was to ensure your new daughter received the care she deserved.”
Your voice wavers slightly. “But so quickly, you both became so much more. Being welcomed into your family was the greatest gift. Watching Georgia grow, guiding her first steps and words ...”
You have to pause, blinking back more tears. Lando squeezes your hands encouragingly.
Composing yourself, you continue thickly, “I vow to always provide that same nurturing love and support. I promise to be your safe place to call home after long days apart. And I pledge to show our daughter daily what it means to be a strong, compassionate woman.”
Taking a shaky breath, you finish softly, “You two are my entire world. Loving you is life’s greatest joy.”
Lando’s eyes glisten as he brushes away the single tear trailing down your cheek. His thumbs linger, cradling your face tenderly.
Clearing his throat, he begins his own vows, voice wavering with emotion. “Y/N, you appeared in my life like an angel that frightening day at the hospital. I was so lost, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of suddenly having Georgia.”
He glances down at your joined hands. “But your compassion and wisdom guided me through those uncertain early days. You made us feel safe.”
Looking up, his eyes pierce yours intensely. “What started as our doctor-patient relationship grew into the most important friendship I’ve ever known. And then, miraculously, into true, deep love. Thank you for loving Georgia as your own and showing me what true partnership means.”
Lando’s voice cracks. He pauses to take a shaky breath. “So I vow to spend every day reciprocating that love and support. I promise to shield you from the chaos of my world and provide a peaceful home for our family.”
Then he turns, taking a folded paper from the best man. “I asked Georgia if she wanted to say anything to her mama today.”
He opens it to reveal a drawing of three stick figures, one much smaller than the others. Scribbled hearts surround you all.
Lando’s voice thickens. “She said to tell you she loves you ‘this much’ and that you’re the best mama ever.”
A sob escapes you as Lando refolds the cherished drawing and hands it over. You press it to your heart, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.
Finally, you slip the wedding bands onto each other’s fingers with whispered words of eternal love and commitment.
When the officiant pronounces you husband and wife, Lando sweeps you into his arms for the kind of kiss that steals your breath and stops time.
You are finally, officially, wholeheartedly one.
The reception flies by in more happy tears, moving speeches, delicious food, and dancing under the stars. Watching Lando twirl Georgia around the floor tugs at your heart.
Later, as you slow dance wrapped in your new husband’s arms, Lando kisses your hair and whispers, “Ready for this new adventure together, Dr. Y/L/N-Norris?”
You beam up at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Mr. Norris.”
No matter where life takes you next on this journey, your family will thrive and grow stronger. Lando’s love lifts you up in ways you never imagined possible. And you vow to cherish and repay that gift until your last breath.
***
Returning home from a blissful honeymoon, you settle back into domestic life with Lando and Georgia. Mornings are spent over pancakes, playing hide and seek, and dancing around the living room. The pure joy of your little family never ceases to warm your heart.
One evening after putting Georgia to bed, you curl up with Lando on the couch and hesitantly broach something you’ve been thinking about.
“So I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s just an idea, and please don’t feel pressured at all.” You take a deep breath. “What would you think about me officially adopting Gigi?”
Lando’s eyes widen in surprise. You rush to continue explaining.
“I don’t want you to think I need a piece of paper to love her with my whole heart, because I already do. More than anything in this world.” Your voice cracks slightly.
Reaching out, you grasp his hands. “I just want to make sure that no matter what, I have a legal right to take care of her. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it!”
Lando is quiet for a long moment, studying your anxious face. Then a smile spreads across his face. “Love, I think it’s a beautiful idea.”
You sag in relief. “Truly? I wasn’t sure if it was too much ...”
Lando silences you with a tender kiss. “Gigi is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mum. I want the whole world to know that too.”
Tears prick your eyes as Lando caresses your cheek. “The day you promised to love Georgia as your own was the moment I knew you were different. I see how you are with her — the time, the care, the unconditional love ...” His voice cracks slightly.
“You gave us the greatest gift. I want you to have the same security that she’ll always be yours.”
A single tear traces down your cheek. Lando brushes it away gently before drawing you into his arms. You cling to him, heart overflowing with love and gratitude.
When you finally pull back, Lando is dabbing at his own eyes. “So,” he says with a watery chuckle, “How do we make this official?”
You explain the process — paperwork, a hearing, lawyer fees. He waves it all off.
“Whatever it takes. I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow.” Lando squeezes you tight. “Soon you’ll legally be Gigi’s mum too!”
You grin and kiss him soundly. With Lando fully on board, excitement takes root.
Over the next weeks, you go through the steps — filing petitions, scheduling court dates, and explaining the process in age-appropriate ways to an occasionally grumpy Georgia when she can’t go play outside instead.
Finally, the big day arrives. You dress Georgia in her favorite pink checkered dress and do her hair in perfect pigtails.
“My beautiful girl,” you murmur, smoothing down a flyaway curl. Her answering smile melts your heart.
At the courthouse, you all meet the social worker assigned to your case. She questions you and Lando gently about your relationship, home life, and approach to parenting. You cling tight to Lando’s hand the entire time.
Finally, it’s time for the hearing before a grandfatherly judge. He smiles warmly, peering over his glasses at you all.
“Well, I must say, this is one of the more straightforward cases to come before me. I can see clear as day how much love exists in this family.”
Relief floods you. The judge continues, “Therefore, I am more than pleased to grant the petition to finalize the adoption of Georgia Senna Norris by her mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Norris.” He bangs his gavel with an air of finality.
Joyful tears pour down your face. Lando whoops and sweeps you into a spinning hug. Even Georgia seems to realize something momentous just occurred, clapping her little hands.
In a daze, you sign the final paperwork making it official before emerging from the courthouse into the warm sunlight, your family now fully complete.
That evening, after Georgia is asleep, you curl up with Lando in bed, reliving the special day. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “I’m so proud of you, Mama.”
You grin against his chest. “I never thought I could feel so much love. She’s changed my life in every way.”
Lando tilts your chin up, eyes glowing. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. My girls who make life beautiful.”
***
One sunny afternoon, you’re in the kitchen prepping a snack for four-year-old Georgia when she comes bounding in from preschool.
“Mummy, guess what? My friend Amy at school is gonna be a big sister!” She hops up on her stool, eyes bright with excitement.
“Oh really? That’s fun!” You slice an apple into bunny shapes.
Georgia nods vigorously. “Yeah! Her mum has a baby in her tummy. Can I have a brother or sister in your tummy too?”
You freeze, knife hovering over the apple. Slowly setting it down, you turn to face her. “You want a little sibling?”
“Yes yes yes!” She bounces in her seat. “I asked Daddy already and he said I should ask you too.”
Your mind spins. A baby … it’s something you and Lando have only vaguely discussed as a someday possibility. But with Georgia asking so eagerly, the concept suddenly feels very real.
Just then, Lando walks in from his office. Georgia immediately appeals to him. “Daddy, tell Mummy we should have a baby! I wanna be a big sister.”
Lando meets your startled gaze, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Well, uh, what do you think, love? Could be kinda nice to add to our crew.”
You glance between their hopeful faces, heart swelling. “I think … that could be really special for our family.”
Georgia cheers while Lando grins, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “A mini you running around? Sign me up.” His smile falters slightly. “Only if you want to though, truly.”
You squeeze him back. “I really do. We’ve come so far since the days of newborn Georgia. I’d love to go through it all again with you.”
The joy lighting up Lando’s face erases any lingering doubts.
That night after Georgia is asleep, you curl up together to discuss logistics. “I’ll need to give notice at the hospital once I’m pregnant so they can find someone to cover my maternity leave.”
Lando waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about any of that. Focus on growing our little muffin and I’ll handle the rest.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Our little muffin?”
“Or crumpet. Jellybean. Peanut.” Lando grins. “Take your pick, I’ve got a million terrible nicknames ready to go.”
Laughing, you swat his chest playfully. Sobering, you add, “It won’t be easy juggling a newborn and busy four year-old. But I can’t wait to see Georgia as a big sister.”
Lando smiles tenderly, threading his fingers through yours. “You’re already the most incredible mum. Our kids are so lucky.”
Your throat tightens at the absolute faith in his voice. No matter the challenges ahead, you’ll get through them together.
When you share the news with Georgia, she screeches loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her enthusiasm never wanes over the following months.
Finally, the big day arrives. After a long but relatively smooth delivery, your son enters the world screaming indignantly. The sound is music to your ears.
Lando cuts the cord with shaking hands before your little boy is placed in your arms. Love surges fiercely and instantly.
“Hi Maddox,” you whisper through joyful tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Lando presses a kiss to both your heads before going to bring Georgia in. She gasps softly, climbing up to peer at her new brother with wide eyes.
“He’s so little!” Reaching out a gentle finger, she strokes Maddox’s downy cheek. Your heart clenches watching your babies meet.
Georgia cuddles close as you adjust her arm to help cradle Maddox. “I’m your big sister Gigi! I’m gonna help take care of you.” She drops a sloppy kiss on his forehead.
Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, you meet Lando’s equally wet gaze. The road that first led you to Lando has become so much more than you ever imagined. But you wouldn’t change a single unexpected twist or turn.
***
You link arms with Lando as you make your way through the familiar Silverstone paddock. The distinctive smell of race fuel hangs in the air, mingling with the buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd.
Georgia skips ahead, her brunette curls bouncing with each step, while Maddox clings to Lando’s free hand, his eyes wide with wonder. Alexa, your two-year-old, nestles securely in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching the McLaren teddy bear she insisted on bringing today. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her cherubic face, so much like Lando’s. Your heart swells with love for your beautiful family.
“Mummy, look!” Georgia calls out, pointing towards the McLaren garage suite. “Can we go in and see the car later?”
“We’ll see, darling,” you reply with a wink, knowing full well that Lando will ensure a special tour for the kids.
Lando squeezes your hand, his warm eyes twinkling with adoration. “Anything for my favorite girls … and Maddox,” he teases, ruffling Maddox’s hair playfully.
Maddox giggles, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “I’m your favorite boy though, right?”
“Of course,” Lando assures him with a conspiratorial wink.
As you continue down the bustling pathway, a Sky Sports reporter spots your family and rushes over, microphone in hand.
“Lando! Dr. Y/L/N-Norris! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?” He asks, his cameraman already rolling.
Lando nods, ever the professional. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”
The reporter flashes a bright smile at the camera. “We’re here at the Silverstone Circuit with McLaren driver, Lando Norris, his wife, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Norris, and their children, Georgia, Maddox, and Alexa. It’s the weekend of the British Grand Prix, and the Norris family has been a fixture in the paddock for years.”
He turns to Georgia and Maddox, crouching down to their level. “So, you two must love coming to the races with your dad. What’s your favorite part?”
Georgia’s eyes light up as she launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the cars and the pit stops, her hands gesturing animatedly. Maddox, the quieter one, simply mumbles “the colors” with a shy grin.
The reporter chuckles, clearly charmed by the children’s responses. Straightening up, he addresses you and Lando. “And how about you two? Managing a hectic F1 schedule with three young kids can’t be easy. What’s the secret?”
Before either of you can respond, Georgia pipes up, “But it’s not three kids, it’s five!”
You tense, shooting Lando a panicked glance. This wasn’t how you’d planned to share the news of your pregnancy.
“Five kids?” The reporter’s brows furrow in confusion.
Georgia nods matter-of-factly. “Yep, there are two more babies in Mummy’s belly!”
A hush falls over the small crowd that has gathered nearby, and you can feel dozens of eyes trained on your still-flat stomach. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively place a protective hand over your abdomen.
The reporter blinks, clearly thrown off-script. “Well, I … congratulations! That’s certainly going to be a handful.”
You force a laugh, leaning into Lando’s solid frame. “Yes, well, Lando’s always said he wants a football team.”
Your husband grins, that cheeky grin you fell in love with, and wraps an arm around your waist. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”
The crowd titters with amusement, and you can feel the tension dissipating.
“I can only imagine,” the reporter replies with a smile. “Well, thank you all for chatting with us today, and congratulations again on your growing family!”
As the reporter and his crew move on, you turn to Lando, your eyes shining with unshed tears — a heady mix of residual mortification and overwhelming love.
“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his stubbled jaw. “I know we wanted to share the news on our own terms.”
Lando silences you with a tender kiss, his lips warm and achingly familiar against yours. When he pulls back, his gaze is soft, adoring.
“Are you kidding? There’s no better way to announce it than through Gigi,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I’m just happy the whole world knows that I have super sperm.”
You laugh despite yourself, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me,” he counters, that infuriatingly irresistible grin stretching across his face.
“God help me, I do,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.
Georgia bounds over then, Maddox and Alexa in tow, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.
“Was I not supposed to tell, Mummy? Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her eyes wide and questioning.
You quickly kneel down, gathering all three children into your arms and peppering their faces with kisses.
“No, my darling, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just … surprised us, that’s all.” You share a look with Lando over their heads, a look that conveys a thousand words — your hopes, your dreams, your boundless love for this incredible little family you’ve created together.
Lando reaches down, ruffling Georgia’s curls with one hand while gently squeezing your shoulder with the other. A silent promise, a vow to always be by your side as you navigate the beautiful chaos of your life together.
Rising to your feet, you adjust Alexa on your hip and take Georgia’s small hand in your own. Maddox slips his hand into Lando’s, and you set off once more, the television crew long forgotten.
This is your life — a whirlwind of races and airports, photoshoots and interviews. But it’s also quiet nights cuddled on the sofa, re-watching Disney movies for the millionth time. It’s family hugs and sloppy baby kisses, skinned knees and endless giggles. It’s laundry piled to the ceiling and sleepless nights spent pacing the nursery.
It’s messy and magical, exhausting and exhilarating. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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chilumi-shipper ¡ 1 year ago
Text
Mama and Papa
Neuvillette x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Breeding Kink, Cockwarming, Creampie
Summary: You absolutely adore the Melusines, treating every single one as if they're you're own child. That tenderness you hold dear for the cute little creatures was what drew the Chief Justice to you in the first place, seeing how even the tough Melusine guards seem to indulge and melt into your motherly embrace. However, for some reason, the scene of you all sweet and caring with the Melusines invoked another feeling from Neuvillette, one more... flithy and sinister than mere adoration.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
His eyes can't help but wander...
From the papers on his desk, all the way to your figure sitting on the floor. Two little Melusines accompanied you, one sleeping on your lap, the other behind you and braiding your hair.
The serenity of the scene before him prevented him from keeping his eyes off you... your presence was simply too alluring.
"Miss Y/N, are you our Mama?" Sedene, the one braiding your hair, suddenly asked, opting a surprised look from you, as well as your lover just a few feet away from you.
There was innocence in the little darlings eyes, "You are very nice to us, just like a Mama." She reasoned her question as she finishes off your braid with a bow.
"Hmmm, I guess I am your Mama! If you want me to be." You answered, caressing Sedene's cheek. "And that means that Neuvillette over there is your Papa!"
The Chief Justice assessed what had just unfolded in front of him, the cutest interaction he's ever seen in, perhaps, his entire life. Sedene's eyes met his, expectantly waiting for a confirmation of what you said.
"I suppose that makes sense." He answered the Melusine's questioning gaze, enjoying the huge smile that was brought to her face as she looks back at you.
That is when Neuvillette can truly take in the situation...
You and him... Mama and Papa...
Being parents together, that would mean seeing you with a swollen belly, nurturing a baby born of his and your love...
From him breeding you and coating your insides with his cum, your breasts would be producing milk for your child, and you would look absolutely radiant completely naked for him to please make love to and-
"Papa!" Neuvillette was taken out of his (very filthy) trance when Liliath, the one previously asleep on your lap, yells for him.
When he looked at her though, the Melusine gasps, "It's true..." She then looks back at Sedene. "He is our Papa! He looked when I called him Papa!"
"That's what Mama said!"
You giggled at their conversation, none the wiser of the piercing eyes that stared at you and was currently picturing you in his dirty fantasies.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
"W-Woahh... darling, hold on..." Your words seem to only come out as a breath, closing your eyes as you hold on for dear life.
He had you in a mating press, keeping your legs pressed against your chest as he eases into you slowly. Neuvillette is rather big, and you held desperately on his arms as he shoved himself all the way in.
He lets out a deep groan when he finally started to move, immediately opting for a fast pace. "Darling... I-" Neuvillette found it hard to get his words out, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him tight was far too good to be interrupted by his thoughts.
He was being rough with you, holding tight onto your thighs, thrusting hard into you, making sure to mover around so that you feel him fill you up to the brim with his cock. It wasn't like your usual love making... this one... he means business...
And boy, did you feel what he meant by the way his cock pounded you over and over, giving your pulsating cunt the pleasure that it wants.
Your husband couldn't be more hot at that moment, so focused on drilling into you, looking intently at where you connect. "I love you, Y/N." He whispered into the air breathlessly, eyes shut as he felt your insides squeeze him.
"I love you too..." you caressed his face and smiled, feeling full of love... in more ways than one.
As you continued, he pounded you even faster, a clear sign that he's about to cum. He would usually pull out already, preparing to coat your breasts with his hot seed.
However, he remains inside you, thrusting continuously, making you call out for him. "Neuvi... Ahhhh...." You moaned as you grabbed onto his arm. "I'm gonna... I need to..."
"Inside."
"Ahhhhg... What...?" You half moaned out, looking at him as you were almost blissed out from his cock fucking you so good.
"I want to cum inside you, Darling..." He said in such a dangerously low voice, sending shivers down your spine. "Will you let me?" He slowed down his thrusts into you, looking at you, almost begging.
You were rather shocked at his request, looking at him wordlessly.
"Please, darling..." He whispered once again. "Wanna breed you..."
And that did it for you, you nodded immediately, allowing him to do as he please.
You moaned loud as you came together, you feeling extremely fucked out as you felt his cum coat your insides, "Ohhh, Neuvi..." He buried his face on the crook of your neck, not bothering to take his cock out of your pussy.
"Thank you... I love you..." He said, his voice muffled by your skin. He inhaled your sweet smell before rolling to your side, holding you close so that you could cockwarm him and keep him all nice and warm. He also wanted to make sure that his cum would stay inside you.
"You know, Neuvillette..." You started in a rather teasing tone. "I think it would take more than one round for you to actually breed me..." You moved to be on to of him, sitting on his cock as you smile almost innocently.
You felt his cock stiffen inside you, making you giggle. "Don't worry, Darling... I'll make sure you get what you want..." You kissed him on the lips, your hips starting to move up and down.
"Breed me, Darling..."
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
I absolutely love Melusines and now I have adopted every single one of them. I am now their mother.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy my once a year update!
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p1astr81 ¡ 20 days ago
Text
baby piastri
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
in which: Oscar is learning to take care of his new baby girl.
pairing: dad!oscar piastri x mom!reader
warnings: none I don’t think?? fluff, super short blurb
‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *
You woke to the sound of yours and Oscar’s child crying. It’s been only three weeks since you brought her home, but it felt like ages, as you have hardly slept. Oscar usually slept through her cries. You never wanted to bother him, so you took care of it yourself despite his many protests.
Tonight was no different. You didn’t care about the time as the concept of it became irrelevant to you in the past weeks. But at some point late in the night, your little Isla started to fuss. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, walking in zombie-like motions toward the baby cradle. You yawned as you reached into her cot, but your hands were met with nothing but air.
All of your senses immediately switched on high. You became more alert than that time you had three energy drinks in one day. You followed the sound of her cries, your feet moving faster than your brain could even process.
Your movements stopped when you saw Oscar pacing around the living room. He kept his usual calm demeanor, but you knew him so well that you could tell he was internally panicking. Little isla flailed in his arms as he softly bounced her around, hoping it would calm her. It didn’t. Her lungs worked overtime as she cried.
There was an open book on the coffee table. One of the books Oscar bought in preparation for the baby. A book all about parenting a new born. He leaned over to read something before turning to Isla, “You want your passy? Is that it?” He asked, offering the piece of plastic right in front of her mouth, but she swatted it away with her little hand. “No? Okay. Are you hungry then?” His voice was soft and low, overflowing with concern. “Mum isn’t awake but I’m sure there’s some food for you in the fridge.” He smiled lovingly down at your daughter.
“Oscar,” you called softly, just loud enough for him to hear you over isla’s screeching cries. His eyes met yours, an amount of remorse in them that you’d never seen before. He sighed. “I’m sorry, hon. I really didn’t want to wake you. I tried to get her to calm down.” He knew how much you’d been doing. How often you’d wake up and how little you slept. He always tried to help but you were so stubborn on being independent. His attention reverted back to the baby girl, tsk-ing out shushes as he tried to calm her.
You grabbed an unfinished bottle from the day before, and met Oscar in the middle of the room to hand it over. “I don’t know how you do it.” He chuckled and joined you on the couch. Luckily, isla clung to the bottle as soon as it was in her reach, solving the problem of her screaming. “You’ll learn,” you replied with a hum and rested your head on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for you to drift away from consciousness.
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chuluoyi ¡ 9 months ago
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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」
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divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~
a part of gojo's love entries
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you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.
and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—
“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”
“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.
“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”
“district court—?”
“—getting a divorce, yeah.”
your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—
“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”
however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.
“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”
you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.
“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”
“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”
you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”
satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.
he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”
you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”
“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”
what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.
“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”
and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”
his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.
“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”
“whoa, wait—”
“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”
“—?! you can’t do that!”
“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”
“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”
“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”
in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.
. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”
“…”
“if you do, baby will also be—”
“you are making us mad.”
“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”
you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.
and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—
“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”
“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”
“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”
“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.
you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”
seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.
and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.
“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”
and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.
you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”
“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”
and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.
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epilogue
“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”
“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”
“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”
“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”
“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”
“uh— you’re the one asking first!”
“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”
“nanami is not—!”
“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”
“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”
“wha?!”
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cloudystevie ¡ 10 months ago
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scary my god you're divine
»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««
pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader
word count || 3235
summary || he would do anything for you.
warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex
author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!
»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««
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Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.
Sometimes literally.
Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.
Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.
You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 
The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.
Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.
“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 
Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.
He doesn’t.
“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 
The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.
Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.
In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 
“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.
You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 
Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.
On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 
“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 
He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 
The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 
His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.
You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.
You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 
“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 
You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 
“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 
“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 
Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.
If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.
Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”
Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 
“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 
“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.
He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 
His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 
A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 
A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 
“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”
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rainintheevening ¡ 6 months ago
Text
They're his children of course. Richard still recognizes them; it's only been two years.
And yet...
Peter is a man. Still six months shy of his draft papers, but he stands, walks, sounds like a man. He always has a pocket knife, he tips his hat to all the females, he sings in a baritone that will only get deeper and richer. The tea he makes is decent, but sometimes he drinks coffee now. He talks about horses and crops and reads Augustine. He can drive a car. He gives orders, and expects them to be followed.
They all look to him, to Peter. Helen calls him to open a jar, Susan questions how her hair looks, Lucy runs to him in tears. As for Edmund, he and Peter are curiously joined, they turn to each other with their laughter, their thoughts, their books and newspapers and letters. As often as his family swirls around him, Richard sees them swirl around Peter, a habit, he knows, born of necessity, but that doesn't prevent it from being strange. Even painful.
Peter moves to take the head of table, catches himself. They both start to say grace, stop, glance at each other. Peter takes the newspaper over breakfast, and is a page in before he remembers. And every time he apologises. Each time he smiles at his father, and it is warm, glad, even benevolent.
One of the first nights, shortly after Christmas, Peter finds him sitting in his old armchair, staring into the fire, after everyone else has gone up to bed. "Dad?" comes the question, and he looks up blinking at the tall man, lamplight crowning him in gold, blue eyes deep and dark with knowledge and certainty.
"I'm not who I was," Richard says, a confession, the kind a father shouldn't burden his son with he thinks immediately, but then Peter is down on one knee, reaching for the mangled hand, tender with the three fingers as he clasps strong calloused palms around them.
"Neither am I, Dad. None of us are." Peter's gaze is earnest, bright. "But you are still my father. And I will always be your son. I am forever grateful for that."
It is as if a great burden rolls off of his shoulders, and he finds no shame in leaning on Peter's hand to rise.
When the holidays end, and the four go back to school, Peter says I love you to each of them at the station.
If Peter is a man now, Susan is a lady.
She sits straight, she walks gracefully, she can cook anything as well or better than her mother. She reads the newspapers with Peter, she scolds Lucy for coming home with twigs in her hair and a tear in her stocking and wet shoes.
She talks less than her father remembers, and there is a woman's sadness in her gazing out the window or into the fire. She is also very admiring of the boys in uniforms, and Richard requests her arm on the way out of church with a father's righteous sense of protection.
But she is also gentler than he recalls, she does not shy away from his injured hand, she takes care of him without making him feel as if he needs care. She sits on a cushion by his feet as she braids her hair in the evenings, leans on his knee as she reads aloud, and Richard thinks, Not my little princess, but a queen now.
At the train station, she kisses him goodbye, and he hugs her close, and there are tears in her eyes as she says I love you.
Edmund is the closest to unrecognizable, the once-obvious four year span between he and Peter seemingly halved. He greets his father wordlessly, all shining eyes and bright smile, and his face is so close to Richard's own it makes his heart break a little.
Ed is no more little boy, he is tall, slim, oddly graceful, but his handclasp is strong. He holds himself the same way Peter does, with squared shoulders and lifted head, but he wears that nobility in a quieter fashion. He's quick to see, quick to hear, quick with a wisecrack that makes Peter laugh out loud. He plays the violin now. He returns the family Bible to the living room with an apology for having kept it since the summer holidays. He reads Agatha Christie as a personal challenge, whispers to Susan in French, and his chess games with Peter are fierce battles of strategy that Richard cannot keep pace with.
In discussions of the war and its movements, he is sober and considerate, he meets each of Peter's moods with a balancing counter, he has a way of phrasing questions that pull out stories Richard had never planned to tell.
A few nights before the children return to school, Richard sits up in bed, certain he has heard a faint cry, and he slips away from his exhausted wife to check on his children, remembering how Edmund had suffered from night terrors as a child, imagining little Lucy inflicted with some dark dream.
But all he finds is shadows in the boys' room, and quiet whispers—Peter's apologies, Edmund's reassurance, and allusions to things Richard has no context for. He lingers by the door, an outsider in his home, until silence falls, and he returns with morning light to find them curled together in Peter's bed, Pete with an arm over Ed, and the father's love is bittersweet.
They have fought their own battle over here, on the home ground, Richard reminds himself. In their own way they have each faced terror and learned to conquer or be conquered, but perhaps he can meet them somewhere in between. Only time will tell.
On the train platform, Ed hugs his father tightly, gives him a smile, tells him to keep out of trouble.
Lucy is the least changed, though she too is taller and stronger, and her eyes are deeper. She still sings, still dances, still tries to make friends with all the animals, still smiles and speaks kind and stares dreaming at the Christmas tree.
She still gives fierce hugs, still climbs into her father's lap, though her head comes up higher on his chest, on his shoulder.
But then he finds gaps in his library, and Lucy returns the medical books with a winsome apology, she asks questions about his practices in the field, she winces but does not shy away from the blood and broken things he speaks of.
Then she recites long poems, words spinning off her tongue until they become half song; she dances swift and graceful, she and Peter laughing and stepping and clapping and spinning in intricate patterns to the swing song on the radio; and it is she who, breathless, quotes Byron: "On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined!"
Her comfort is both generous and thoughtful, and she strokes her father's hair with a motherly hand that makes his eyes sting, and he kisses her fingers, looks up at her to whisper, "Don't- don't grow up quite so fast, my darling."
When she hugs him on the platform, Susan waiting for her, the boys already gone, she doesn't want to let go, and there are tears on her cheek, that he wipes away gently. "Be careful, Daddy," she whispers. "Get strong. Take care of Mummy."
"Yes, little mother," he smiles back.
And then they are all gone, and he takes a cab home, weary of his still-recovering body.
He will have to learn his children all over again, he thinks. But he is proud of them still. That has not changed.
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