#This is al up for plotting of course

[avilionea]

A CRASH COURSE FOR INDEG

Indeg has an exclusive verse with @arturiusrex that follows Emily's canon and will be tagged with v: arturiusrex.

Indeg is an ongoing development and for the purpose of writing on this blog will be my one Arthurian characters to have more influence from a historical perspective ( drawing largely from Irish written law and Roman Briton) , Culhwch and Olwen, The Dream of Rhonabwy, and will continue to evolve as I further research the time period and write her.

Indeg was born on the west coast of Briton in a small town that was subjected to Irish raids. She was taken captive as a spoil of war along with other women, children , and livestock from her village and sold on the western coast of Ireland to another cheiftan in exchange for a sow.

As she grew she became part of the labor force, starting off as a milk maid and churning butter. As she got older she was made to assist in washing wool for spinning before being put in charge of herding pigs ( as pigs were kept close to the house and enslaved women were not permitted to herd cows or sheep as they would require use of the fields.)

She was sold during a harsh winter and moved to the eastern side of the Isle before being sent off to Briton as part of an exchange for further goods and services. In this Lord's castle she was placed once again in charge of herding pigs before shifting back to washing wool. She was taught during this to spin and began weaving before she bore the Lord of the castle a daughter, who was soon traded for her weight in grain to replace the child who had passed in another home.

Her fertility boosted her worth and made her a valuable part in paying off taxes to the crown. She was sent off to King Urien of Gorre's court with two cows and fifty yards of woolen fabric. The environment of the castle made poor use of her previous skill sets, and she soon became pregnant with the King's eldest son Galeguinant, who was declared free by the king and taken into his household as a Bastard. Indeg did not have access to her son. She was given training to be a ladies maid to the Seneschal's wife as the presence of Indeg and her birthing a son, who became to an extent claimed and a free man. This caused conflict with his Queen. She was placed with the Seneschal as her own reward for giving him a son.

The fact that she was given a position that should have gone to a free woman of rank caused further conflict in the Seneschal's home.

While in the service of the Seneschal's wife Indeg learned sewing, clothing care, shoe care, hair care, room cleanliness( not including ash work or chamber care as that was work for a scullery maid) and was permitted to run small errands around the castle. As the Seneschal's wife had four children of her own, Indeg was in close proximity to their governess as well as the children when visiting their mother. Because of this, at the request of the children Indeg began to tell stories.

It began as fairy tales and folktales for the children, but the talent for the craft soin caught the attention of both the Seneschal and his wife, who also sought the entertainment her stories brought. This became a nightly occurance. When it was made plain her lack of education inhibited more detailed and complex plots she was bade to spend a hour daily with the court scribe to learn the history of the Isle( but was barred from learning any writing or mathematic skills). Her stories improved to the point rumors of her talent began to spread throughout the court. She began to tell stories to both the King and his court in the main hall. It was in this time that Indeg was assaulted by the court scribe.

He was brought before the court and made to pay the property damage fine of six shillings and the robbery of personal affects fine of sixty shillings. The Seneschal was also made to pay an additional fine of property damage to the King as Indeg was only on loan.

She was removed from the Seneschal's care shortly after this , but continued telling stories ( now to the King ). Back in the King's household she soon became pregnant again to another boy, Ywaine the bastard, who was named thus as the King legitimate newborn, Ywaine was sickly and feared a failure to thrive. Should this son die, Indeg's child was to be given to the Queen. Both boys lived. Ywaine the bastard is Indeg's only child to reach the status of a Lord.

Her talents were put to the test when a traveling bard proclaimed he was the best storyteller in Briton and requested a position in court stating he could outnarrate Indeg, whose talents were now bleeding out of Gorre's court. He parlayed for a contest and bet his right hand he could best her. Should he win he wanted her tongue and a position in the King's court. He had the education and the skill where she did not.

The judge was the King of Orkney who had come south and was resting at Gorre prior to both Kings preparation for diplomatic proceedings and potential conflict with a new upstart King in the south of Briton.

The Bard began and told his story with flare. It was as grand as he promised. Indeg's story lasted the whole night, captivating both Kings and keeping them and their court both occupied and entertained. She won and was offered the Bard's hand as her prize. She declined and let him keep his hand.

Indeg had a short period of peace while Urien was southward in the country, but was sent for along with fifty yards of golden brocade. She arrived at a camp which held a mass of other Kings who were bending the knee to whom had been formerly proclaimed the upstart King. Items of value were being given as tribute to this King who was now calling himself a High King.

This King's advisor, Merlin, rebuffed the fabric and Indeg, stating that one woman was of poor worth for Urien's proof of loyalty. She should have come with livestock, gold, or other women. She and the golden brocade were deemed insulting and would not be presented to the King.

Indeg was made by Urien to tell the King a story oncenhe was able to fight to present her. This was predated at the King's request with her personal story(she omitted her own assault) So she stood there, holding the fabric and told him a story that had him enchanted.

They talked at length about her stories, both true and fiction, to which he found her suitable.

Sir Cai joked he found her more than suitable. If the King did not want her, then he would. Further discussion as to what should be done with her was had and boiled down to whether she should stay in the King's household, be given to Sir Cai, or made a gift for his best knight Sir Lancelot for all his services to tbe crown. Indeg was present for all of this discussion before being sent to the King's, Arthur's, personal tent.

In Camelot, Indeg's personal duties are the upkeep of Arthur's apartments which include linen and furniture care, scrubbing floors, and care of hygiene tools. For Arthur( up until he had his second wife) she performs clothing maintenance and care, personal care, and hair care.

She gives him one son, Amr, whose life is up for plotting, but is buried on the battle field at Archfield, with a grave marked with his crimes.

More TBA or changed as needed as she develops.

[contumacious-arcadia]

oooo ooooo OOOOOO!

What if Al was actually the original redeemed sinner and *that's* where he was for those 7 years? What if he actually did die again 7 yrs back but was appalled when he reincarnated in heaven and immediately started a campaign to be sent back? What if he accidentally redeemed himself by murdering all those other Overlords?

We can see just how abusive and sadistic Overlords can be towards the souls they own by looking at Val's character. If you contrast that with what we've seen in Husk/Nifty/Al's interactions, despite owning their souls and being a snarky little shit towards Husk (and scaring him a bit when he brings up Al's deal), Al never once actually hurts them and arguably provides them with a comfortable, relatively safe, and happy life in the hotel. These interactions are in present day, but we have been given no evidence to show that he ever treated them differently. On the contrary, when Al shows back up in the pilot, Husk immediately bitches at him when he is ordered to bartend - back-talking to his soul's owner with no hesitation and no fear. It stands to reason that he's comfortable doing so because Al's treatment of him has been the same since they made their deal.

In the context of hell, Al's rise to power seems to have had an accidental side effect of killing the super bad guys, saving sinners from an eternity of abuse and torture, and providing them with a much better contract. Like, *MUCH* better. No more rape, torture, druggings, mind control, etc... Al's obviously not a saint, but in this context, he may have been pretty close to hell's version of one.

If this is the case, Al obv would have *hated* being in heaven and likely immediately took it upon himself to attempt returning to hell BUT heaven obv wouldn't be cool with just letting him fall because they would *not* want hell finding out that redemption is possible. (Remember, in this scenario Al was redeemed 7 years prior to the show's pilot.) What if THAT's what his deal was? What if the deal was: either heaven just murders him on the spot -or- they allow him to fall back to hell in his original sinner form BUT ONLY if he agrees to have his angelic powers bound and is contractually sworn to silence about anything that happened during those 7 years?

This would work SO well. It would also answer a lot of questions about Al's character and actions. For example:

-Where was Al during those missing 7 years? Heaven. Likely imprisoned. -Who owns his soul? Again, heaven. Likely either Sera or an Archangel like Micheal. (I like the idea that it's Micheal, and that Mikey is Luci's twin, pouring more fuel on the fire on the immediate Al x Luci hate train.) -Why does Al state redemption is impossible as if it's a fact and not just an assumption? His deal forces him to keep redemption a secret so he is literally contract-bound to verbally disregard the idea. -Why does he still help the hotel then? Because he's pissed that heaven roped him into a deal WAY more favorable to them. Even though he can't outright state that redemption is possible, he can push Charlie's project along and hope she is the one who blows up heaven's big secret for him. It's revenge, baby! -Why does Zestial make comments about Al falling into "holy arms" when this is seemingly the first interaction between the two since Al's disappearance? Zestial suspects what happened. Maybe he witnessed Al's double-death 7 yrs ago, maybe he overheard some gossip from exorcists during an extermination, maybe something else. -Why doesn't Al use angelic weapons during his battle with Adam, especially since HE is the one who brought that knowledge to the hotel in the first place? He is overconfident because he too is actually a fallen angel, but he fails because his angelic powers are still bound. It is the pride ring after all. -Why does Al sing about "unclipping his wings" during his panic attack/loss to Adam? It's literal. He's pissed that he's been stripped of a massive boon to his power set and double-pissed that heaven seemingly has "beaten" him again. -Why does Al claim that he will be "pulling all the strings" once his wings have been unclipped? Because he is literally proof-positive redemption is possible and therefore, to his knowledge, would basically be a living weapon against heaven's authority. Remember, at this point no one is aware of Pentious' redemption.

I'm sure there's more! Anywho, my brain ran off on this tangent for some unknown reason. Al's just such a fun character to theorize about. Now, I don't believe this will actually happen in the show (it's probably a simple answer like "Lilith owns his soul, duh"), but we can dream! If any writers out there are looking for fic ideas and find my little rant interesting, PLS take this and run with it! I would LOVE to read something like this <3

[robingivesmemagic]

i had a dream i was on a blog looking at rlly cute fanart of an au but then i woke up wtffff it was kind of like a reverse robins au i guess but only the ages really changed where jason was the oldest and dick tim and damian seemed sort of all closer in age. it was like jason living on his own but then having to take care of these 3 kids that wont leave him be... he got adopted for his weird stray dog swag. there were more characters but i only saw them listed in a blog post like more kids that were ocs with a similar dynamic with jason like the batkids but i cant remember their names :[ BUT THEY HAD A PET DOG I REMEMBER HER i was in the middle of reading a drabble w dick and jason ft the dog when i thought "if this is a dream im gonna be so sad" and then i woke up 😔

the fanart was jason reading and dick tim and damian leaning on him trying to read with him dick was standing behind him and tim and damian were sitting on either side of him it was so cute but in a style i cannot replicate </3 </3 </3 I MISS IT SO MUCH

[skunkes]

i loooove when ocs unrealized development makes them feel like real people like no i dont know whether talon is genuinely attracted to women after years of both clinging to them for safety and years of putting them onto that untouchable idealized Perfect Protector Pedestal that must remain untainted by any bad experiences, so he doesn't even try to Be With any. He doesn't know either

[liquidstar]

Random oc thought: I think I mentioned before somewhere that Saiph was actually the one to like Al first. But it was when they were kids, and eventually Saiph is like "Well, if I'm going to be a boy, I guess there's no shot, so I should stop stressing and we can just be regular buddies" and then, like, 4 years later Al is like "I think I'm gay" and Saiph is like "FUCK- I mean I'm happy for you." through gritted teeth because he lost his excuse to not stress about it.

[solxamber]

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

1. Please Let Me Live || Vil Schoenheit

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?

Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading as the villainess, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

3. I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad || Lilia Vanrouge

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse as the heroine, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

4. Accidentally Falling for a Fae Prince || Malleus Draconia

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, as the heroine herself, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel as the villainess, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it.

Now, as the villainess, you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess.

So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport with the help of your fiancé, Jamil Viper.

9. Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked for after a freak accident and end up getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager.

As the villainess. It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekai'd into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 weird consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

11. Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.

Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.

12. How to Ruin a Plot || Jade Leech

When you end up as the villainess in a story that's hellbent on making her suffer for no reason, you decide to make the main characters suffer just for catharsis. Good thing that your fiancé, Jade Leech seems to like chaos as much as you.

13. I Want a Refund || Trey Clover

When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.

14. I Don't Want the Heroine || Ruggie Bucchi

You get isekai’d into what could only be described as an affront to literature, as the second male lead. So you decide to cut all ties with the heroine and live a peaceful (wealthy) life with your secretary, Ruggie Bucchi. Except life doesn't go as planned as you get more chaos than you signed up for.

15. My Knight is Too Loyal || Sebek Zigvolt

You wake up as the villainess in a novel that had to be written as a joke. The heroine is trying to ruin your life, but if you refuse to acknowledge her, then it’s not happening. Right? …Right??

It doesn't help that your knight, Sebek, is annoyingly endearing.

16. How to Escape a Kingdom || Silver

You get isekai’d as the heroine in a bad novel. The prince is awful. The villainess is worse. The only thing keeping you going is your gorgeous, tired fiancé, Silver.

17. Speedrunning Marriage Fraud || Ace Trappola

You get isekai’d as the heroine in a romance novel, but instead of dreamy suitors, you’re stuck with a yandere cryptid, a billionaire with no impulse control, and a knight who thinks he's in a Shakespearean tragedy (and more).

Your solution? Commit marriage fraud with your best friend, Ace Trappola, and hope no one asks for a marriage certificate.

18. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Get Married || Deuce Spade

You get isekai’d into a garbage novel as the villain, so you take it as a sign that morality is optional now. So, you do what any reasonable person would: you set the world on fire (metaphorically… mostly) and somehow bag your knight, Deuce Spade in the process.

Masterlist

[kkai-zen]

ᯓ★ oh damn, i feel like a HOTSHOT

──── featuring ITOSHI SAE.

summary: what happens when your famous pro-soccer player boyfriend ITOSHI SAE finds your Tumblr fan account for him?

contents: 18+ nsfw! MDNI. fem!sub!reader, dom!sae, p in v, porn w plot, established relationship, reader nicknames (sweetheart, pretty thing, dirty girl, slut, love), degradation, exhibitionism, mile high club!, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstim, creampie

a/n: second work for this series! it's kinda similar to the previous work i did for itoshi rin, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

wc: 1.6k

✰ .ᐟ your pro-athlete boyfriend ITOSHI SAE . . .

finds out about your Tumblr fan blog, "sae-dreams", on the private jet he booked to Spain when he gets curious about the nonstop notifications you're receiving.

your phone is constantly buzzing with all the interactions on your latest post—a smutty fanfic featuring sae himself, of course!

he scrolls through your blog when you leave your phone unattended for a moment.

he immediately gets cocky when he reads through your endless posts, everything from "fluffy bf!itoshi sae hcs" to "18+ NSFW possessive sae smut".

feels proud that he's got you that down bad for him. (aka, Sae loves how obsessed you are with him.)

drops subtle hints that he knows about your blog when you come back, but doesn't outright say it until after he's fucked you senseless.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bz-bzzt. Bzz-

Sae narrows his eyes at your phone. 

You’re too preoccupied admiring the stunning view outside the window of the private jet to notice, though. Humming to yourself, you tap out some rhythm on the armrest of your very comfortable seat, daydreaming about Spain.

“Aren’t you excited for Spain, Sae?”

“I’ve lived there for so long, so it doesn’t feel too special."

“Really?”

“Mm…yeah, I guess so,”

Sae murmurs, teal eyes still glaring at your vibrating phone. 

You pout. “Aw, c’mon, at least you’ll be able to relax in Spain instead of just training!” Standing up, you stretch your back and his gaze flits to you. “M’ gonna go use the bathroom,” you yawn, slipping through the spacious aisle and out of Sae’s view.

He watches your back vanish from sight before returning his gaze to your phone—which is still buzzing away. Who’s texting you so much?

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he slides your phone across the in-flight desk towards him before picking it up. Turning on your phone and flicking through the numerous notifications, he’s surprised to see that it's not texts, but rather:

sae-luvr-032, churchofitoshi, and 48 others liked your post.

stan-itoshi reblogged your post.

sae-sunshine started following you.

holywaterneeded, re-al-fan, and 50 others liked your post.

saeswetsock reblogged your post.

Eyebrow arching, Sae quickly swipes your phone open (because of course he knows your password), and taps open Tumblr. His eyes widen the slightest bit. What's all this?

Some time later, you crash back into your seat next to Sae (after exploring the way too luxurious bathroom). Your phone is placed exactly where you’d left it, but it’s not like you would’ve noticed otherwise—your attention is only drawn to it when you finally notice the incessant bzzt-bzzt-bzzt! of the notifications.

Picking it up, you blush the faintest pink at the reminder of your most recent blog post— [NSFW 18+] joining the mile high club with itoshi sae!

You quickly turn on 'do not disturb', deciding to check on your blog after you land in Spain; but naturally, Sae notices. 

“Who’s texting you?” He asks, a small smirk playing on his face.

You freeze. “N-nothin’, just a group chat,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“M’kay,” he hums, but there’s something suspicious simmering under his voice. 

“Y’know, I’ve really been into my fans’ social media accounts recently,” Sae muses. “They actually write a bunch of real interesting stuff,” he continues, leaning his head on his hand.

“Oh, yeah?” You force out a small laugh. “Mhm. Especially on Tumblr.” He forces down a chuckle at your barely-masked expression of panic. “Tumblr? Really?”

You can’t hide the disbelief in your voice. Itoshi Sae? The genius midfielder? On Tumblr?? There’s a thousand thoughts swirling in your head right now, and you don’t even notice the devilish smirk spreading on his face as he responds: “Yup. Tumblr.”

What if he finds my account? No, no way, right? Besides, it’s anonymous! He wouldn’t- he couldn’t possibly know it’s me, right?? You toy with your phone nervously as Sae watches, debating on what to say. But before you can open your mouth, Sae grabs your waist and lifts you onto his lap, facing him.

“Sae? What are you- hey!” You gasp as Sae dips his hand under your shirt, sliding his cool palm up your torso before pulling your bra up to expose your breasts. He doesn’t respond, only tilting his head up to admire your expression as he teases your nipples, already stiff from his ministrations and sticking out from your shirt. 

“A-ah, Sae, wai- mm!” Biting back a moan, you can’t help but grind against his erection as he squeezes at your nipples. He grunts at the friction, eyes closing for a brief second before he tears your shirt off and turns you around on his lap. 

Back pressed flush against his muscular chest, you whimper when a hand comes up to grab one of your tits, groping the soft flesh. The other hand other pops open the button of your pants and slips them off with ease before diving into your panties, already soaked with arousal. 

Sae bullies two fingers into your sopping hole, the pads of his fingers brushing and prodding at your most sensitive spots. In an attempt to muffle your whines, you slap a hand over your mouth—only for Sae to grab your wrist and pin it behind your back. 

“Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he purrs. “Wanna hear you make all those pretty sounds for me.” 

“B-but Sae- ah!” You cry out. “We-we shouldn’t do this- ah- on the plane- ngh!” Your cunt throbs as Sae starts massaging your clit in quick circles. He chuckles, breath tickling your ear. “Hm? You’ve really never thought about this before?” 

You moan, bucking your hips into his fingers, and when he promptly pulls out of you, you whine. “That’s what I thought,” he breathes, placing a soft kiss behind your ear. A pathetic croak slips out of your mouth as your dripping hole clenches around nothing, desperate for stimulation. 

You twist around, slamming your lips onto his with a bruising force, teething clacking together as your tongues clash. Your hands find the waistband of his pants, slipping them down to reveal his twitching cock standing straight and erect against his abs, drooling precum from the angry red mushroom tip. You’re panting for breath when you drag yourself away from his lips, but seeing your boyfriend’s flushed, uncharacteristically disheveled face makes it worth it. 

You almost smirk at him—but when he hooks his toned arms under your knees to pull your thighs to your shoulders, your eyes widen.

Oh-

Oh. 

Now, Sae’s the one smirking at you. “What’s wrong, my love?” He asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice. “T-this position- I- mmm- fuck, Sae!” you damn near scream when he slams his rock-hard length into you, bottoming out in your wet heat. 

“Shhh, pretty thing,” Sae murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you think it’s absolutely criminal how he sounds perfectly relaxed. “Can’t be screaming and crying yourself stupid on my dick right now…not here.” 

You clench around his cock at his words. “But you like this, don’t you?” Sae teases, rolling his hips into you, andthe sound of your slick rubbing and sticking to his cock is so lewd that it has your head spinning. “We could be caught any second, with you moaning like that. Dirty, dirty girl.” He tsks, before driving the rest of his shaft into you. 

“Mmpf- Sae, s-slow do-o-o-own!” You’re sobbing, moans slipping out in choppy rhythms as Sae drives himself into you at a punishing pace.

You want to tell him to stop, afraid that some unsuspecting flight attendant could walk by any second, but he feels so delicious inside of you, the stretch of his cock stirring your insides up in a way that has you seeing stars.

The thrill of it makes your pussy flutter around him, dripping even more beads of slick down onto his length. “You really are a slut for my cock,” Sae groans, and with one more vicious thrust, you can’t help but cry out his name as you hit your climax with a violent shudder, squirting over his bare thighs.

Waves of euphoria crash into you, puffy hole trembling as Sae’s cock spurts hot, thick ropes of cum into you, distending your stomach. Your head is thrown back, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth as you writhe in pleasure.

Gasping for air, chests heaving with exertion, and a fine sheen of sweat sticking the two of you together, you both slowly come down from the high of your orgasms.

You bask in the afterglow, still shivering as Sae pulls his softening length out of you. Cum drips out of your cunt, threatening to spill out onto the expensive seats, but Sae takes two fingers and presses the cum back into your overstimulated hole.

Moaning softly, your head falls back onto Sae’s shoulder as you try to catch your breath. “U-ugh, Sae,” you gasp. “You- coulda warned me, y’know…”

He lets out a breathless laugh, fingers still buried in your twitching hole. “Mm, but that’s not how you wrote it in your blog, right?”

You whip around, jaw dropping open. “So you did know!” You accuse, poking a finger into Sae’s chest. A smile curves at the edges of his mouth, and he brings a hand up to ruffle your hair.

“Let me read the rest of your posts, love.”

“No way!”

“…”

“…fine.”

[thewitchblue]

"I'm going to be your stepmom, Damian."

You told him in a teasing tone. The entire cave fell silent. How? And why? Damian immediately crossed his arms and replied coldly,

"You can't marry father. He's engaged."

You snorted an amused laugh,

"Who said anything about Bruce? I'm engaged to Talia."

Damian's brain began short-circuiting. You showed off your engagement rings as proof, and Damian felt the world slow down. He recognised the rings and knew it was real. The ring was a League of Assassin staple, and the second one on your other hand was from her personal collection. He knew Talia's mind was made up about marrying you with the rings. She claimed you permanently.

"... I'm not calling you mom."

You expected Damian to be outraged, but he calmly accepted you marrying his mom. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. He wasn't fine, but he had no choice. His mother's decisions are final, and her will is absolute. She will not give you up no matter what they do or say.

Jason crossed his arms while leaning against his motorcycle. This is ridiculous. You are insane to allow this to happen. Did you even allow this to happen? Are you under duress?Gruffly, Jason asked,

"Does that mean when you told me not to not 'put my dick in crazy' was because you are territorial?"

You straightened as if Jason offended you. The audacity of Jason to remind you of your past words. He's right, of course, but thoughts change given enough time. You shrugged and told him,

"It was helpful advice. My queen is fiercely loyal. You would be in the same situation as Bruce, and I don't need any more stepchildren."

That led to more questions than answers. Nobody knew what to say or how to process that information. Dick recovered first and asked,

"How did you get together?"

You sighed wistfully. You don't know quite how to feel, but you know you want to continue this engagement. You had grown fond of your future wife. You explained,

"She sat next to me after patrol a couple of nights ago, and we talked. She told me she had been watching me all of my patrol, and she wanted me to fight her father. I shrugged and agreed to fight him. I had assumed she was helping me stop an evil plot or wanted to test my skill, so I followed her. Everybody neglected to tell me that I was fighting for her hand in marriage."

Oh, Talia and her foxy ways. She's always up to something. She knew you were one of the best combatants within the Bat team. You have gone blow-for-blow with Lady Shiva and won a few times. You then trained under her while Bruce was gone for two years on a mission. You honed your skills like a blade and wielded them with precision. You continued,

"I won the fight, but he kept asking for rematches using different forms of combat. I thought it was to protect his ego and pride, but I was wrong. Ra smirked the more times I won until we ran out of tests, but I didn't understand why."

You gave them a tired smile. It sucks to call Ra your father-in-law, but you'll adapt. The others were speechless. You explained further,

"We had a talk. Ra smiled and told me he puts his full trust in me. He said that I had earned Talia. He gave me the League of Assassins engagement ring, and Talia gave me her own version of an engagement ring. So, I have wedding rings for both hands."

You looked at your hands. The engagement rings were truly beautiful, but you'd expect nothing less from the Al Ghul family. Talia seemed to have done her research on you because the ring she gave you was the exact stone and style you would have wanted in a ring. You said before the others could speak,

"I'm giving Talia and Ra full control over the wedding planning. My only demand was for you all to be invited."

Nobody had a clue about how to handle this news. The family favourite was about to get married to one of their villains. Could they allow you to be wed into a villainous family? Could they stop you? Why would you accept in the first place?

"You unintentionally fought for an engagement you didn't ask for? Why did you say yes?"

Tim was flabbergasted and a little stressed about the situation. Why is the only question he could think of. Explain to him why this is a good idea. Explain to him why you did anything you did. He was concerned. You asked with raised eyebrows,

"Would you turn down Talia Al Ghul?"

You both were surprised that night. Talia was shocked you actually won every trial sent for you, but her pleased grin and smooth words made you hesitantly agree to be married to her. The mischief in her eyes that told a story you could clearly make out was a path you wanted to explore, and the kiss she gave you almost knocked you off your feet. She was so... happy, it seemed, maybe even victorious. It was as if she knew you'd win and was silently bragging to her father that you'd win with confidence. You couldn't say no. You could fight her, sure, but you were exhausted from Ra's challenges, and why fight a potentially budding love you won? It's like a fairytale. The knight fought the evil lich and won the princess's heart.

"I agreed because I grew fond of her. She was always in my corner when I fought Ra. She was the one to give me water in between fights and gave me a good pep talk. She knew her father was an honed weapon, but she believed in me."

Dick ran a stressed hand through his hair. Nothing could have prepared him for his sisterly figure to become Damian's stepmother. He has nothing in his big brother book for something like this to happen. He was indescribably distraught and infuriated.

"I... I don't know what to say. Congratulations? Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

You frowned at his weary expression. What is so hard about accepting future love? Technically, Talia wouldn't be their problem, and Ra's would stop his assault on Batman, given how connected Damian and you are to them. You confirmed,

"I'm sure. She's a better woman when she isn't under Ra's thumb. She'll be a part of my family, not his, and she can comfortably give up the assasssin lifestyle instead of being torn between the Bats and the League of Assassins. She'll be on our side."

Tim was still trying to come to terms with everything. That is wishful thinking at best. You might even be taken away from them before she ever joins their side. He felt like his brain was in slow motion. You were basically his sister, but he can't do anything about it.

"When did all this happen?"

You shrugged. You never did care about dates. Calendar Man hates you and often avoids you in favour of the other Bats. You asked,

"Do you remember the night you guys went crazy with worry and tore Gotham apart to find me? Whatever that day was."

They all remember that day very clearly. Talia shot all of the cameras in Gotham before approaching you. They worried you'd got into a fight with her, and she disposed of your body somewhere or carted you off to any of the supervillains to be used as blackmail to lure the Batfamily out of the cave.

They were beating up every goon to find out information, but nobody knew anything. The panic they all felt hit them pretty heavily. There was nothing. Not even Damian could find a trace when asked.

Dick was especially worried. He became paranoid you were in the Court of Owls nest. Losing you would have devastated him. His brotherly pride and joy rode on you and your safety. He kept you nestled under his wing firmly, like an overprotective mother hen.

Jason had gone straight to Joker like hell was chasing him. He hated every second that passed. He could hear the timer that was ticking like the bomb that killed him. This panic had him indescribably angry. Where were you?

Tim was a wreck. His anxiety sky-rocketed the longer you were gone. He was counting the hours you were missing, much like Jason. The first 24 hours are crucial in missing persons cases, he knows this, and it worried him immensely. Without any evidence to go off of and none of his precious cameras to find you, he was stressed. You vanished into thin air, and not even his energy drink could calm his nerves. He was a mess and threw himself into collecting any possible evidence. Someone shut off even his personal cameras (he hid his own cameras around the city for the angles the security camera don't reach) and whoever they were turned off your trackers, even cutting out the one placed under your skin and crushing it under your heavy boot heel.

Bruce was the worst when it came to your disappearance. He went insane. If something is skilled enough to take you as if you vanished, what can he do? What was he going to do when he found out who took you from him? He was cold, bitter, and angry. He can't live without you, and he refuses to do so. None of the family could handle a life without you now that you've invaded their team and their hearts.

Damian didn't care nearly as much. Sure, he loved you, but he trusted your combat skills more than he trusted his own, and that says a lot about your skills. He trusted you more than he trusted Jon, both in a fight and in general. You would not fall unless you wanted to, and he was proven right when you returned. You had sword gashes and bruises, but you survived whatever you were put through. You didn't answer any of their burning questions. Simply shook your head with an adrenaline filled smile.

They all attempted to hunt you down to the best of their abilities, yet you just... reappeared. You gave them all a grin like you did when you were a child, so joyous and full of love, and Bruce knew you were okay. His baby was safe. You were back in his nest. The tension melted off of him when he pulled you into a hug.

Nobody left you alone for longer than the time it took to stop a robbery for months, and all the cameras were replaced the next night. You were annoyed, but Talia would find a way to get you out of the suffocating walls of the manor. If anybody can sneak you in and out, it will be her and Ra, who has grown to already love you and continued to grow protective of you. You belong with the League of Assassins, not with the Bats! How dare they hold Talia's future wife captive!

Was your future wife insane and obsessed? Yes. Did you care? Not particularly. The birds need to leave the nest eventually.

You weren't in the Batfamily despite your closeness. You simply accepted their love and flew just close enough to be considered family, but not legally tied to them. It sometimes seemed like Bruce was even waiting for you to be orphaned so he could adopt you into the family. His fantasy has been ruined by Talia's ridiculous tournament.

You smiled thinking about your queen. Yes, you will be going into another obsessive family, but what else is new for you? Your current sort-of-family is equally obsessive, and your actual family was obsessed with her already.

[starry-bi-sky]

Out of Context Stuff for a Danyal Al Ghul au i haven't posted - Pit Beast Danyal

Damian, 13: Look, Danyal, -- I am so sorry for everything that happened between us in the League, I hope you can forgive me.

Danny, 10 (allegedly): (has been secretly plotting to murder Damian this whole time, is still gonna do it obvs, but is going to make it significantly less painful now)

Danny: I-- of course, older brother. :]

--------

Bruce: what do you have there, Damian?

Damian:

Danny: (a hulking 10ft pit beast standing beside him, growling idly with ram horns gouging out his eyes and a second set of horns jutting into the air, spines down his back, and a long, spiked tail with an animalistic, skull-like face)

Damian, who smuggled him in (they've made amends): a smoothie, father

----------

Damian: this is my little brother Danyal, i murdered him when he was five. He festered in rage for the last half-a decade, took over a League mountain base in Switzerland, murdered everyone inside and then tried to murder me when I went to investigate with Drake.

Danny: hello!

Damian: we're cool now

----------

Damian: thoughts on resurrection

Danny, (a full ghost): i will succeed in murdering you if you try it

Damian: we'll put a pin in it then

----------

Danny (still instilled with League values): why don't we just murder him??

Damian, on patrol (Danny followed him): we don't murder people, Danyal

Danyal:,,,,are you sick, Dami?? Have you been possessed? Why not!?

(There is raucous laughing through the comms)

----------

Danny, five, pre-death: Dami! :D

Danny, dead, vengeful: Older brother (:

Danny, post-forgiveness: Dami! :]

-------

For some actual context: Danny is fully dead in this au, its a result of the classic DPxDC Demon Twins "death duel" trope but instead of Danny getting revived, he stays fully dead. Danny was five, Damian was seven. His ghost lingered though, and due to the proximity of the pits his ghost steadily absorbed the ambient energy it was letting off. The pits are not corrupted ectoplasm in this au, it's just liquid ecto.

Which means Danny's corruption from an angry and hurt little ghost boy to an unrecognizable monster is from his own doing. It's a result of him stewing in his hurt and anger for years, it physically warped him. He's very powerful. Danny can travel between League Bases but chose a small, out-of-the-way base in the Swiss mountains to fester in and then just. Never Left.

His influence steeped into the very foundations of the building, allowing him to transform and warp the rooms and hallways for his own bidding, Meaning he could turn it into a seemingly unending labyrinth if he so wished to, and block the entrance.

Eventually, blinded (both metaphorically and physically) by his own rage, Danny grew powerful enough to appear physically in the living realm and attacked everyone in the base, slaughtering them all and leaving the base abandoned. He attacks anyone who dares enter -- whether that be other league members, or the unfortunate hiker who stumbled across the base. His conscious is steeped into every nook and cranny of the building, there is nowhere you can hide where he can't find. Nobody leaves without his explicit say so. Nobody ever does.

Him appearing as ten years old before Damian in the skits above is his own physical doing. First it was to prevent Damian from being suspicious of him. Damian initially thought Danny was revived with the pits, he was too busy with his own training afterwards to notice that Danny never showed up again, and when he did notice, he assumed it was because Danny was too ashamed of his loss to face him. He'd always forget to ask about him.

Then it becomes a personal choice to appear as ten. It's how old he would've been had he been alive.

danny forgiving Damian is kinda for an offshoot branch of the main au. Whereas the main au takes the form of a ps4 first person horror game where Damian and Tim are investigating the Base for Plot Reasons. There's no sign of the rumored "monster" living inside until the end, where Danny, who was found inside the Base and has been happily "helping" them look around, manages to persuade Damian into splitting off from Tim in order to "show him something."

This something turns out to be Danny revealing that he never really forgave Damian for that fight, and he reveals through a horrifying transformation, that he was the monster the whole time. Which the game subtly hints at throughout as Danny's strange behavior becomes harder to ignore.

First from his insistence to only refer to Damian as "older brother" (when before the duel he always called him Damian or Dami), to him right off the bat denying the existence of a monster when questioned. ("There's no monster here, older brother. It's just me.") To other various things, like his knowledge of the outside world not matching up to modern times or things going on with the league outside of the base, or what happened to the other league members.

This whole idea was inspired by the song "Scylla" from Epic the Musical, with Danyal being the voice of Scylla as well as Odysseus, while Damian stands as Eurylochus. The instrumentals after Scylla says "hello" is him turning into the pit beast, and Scylla's "drown in your sorrow and fears" part is danny, as the pit beast, snarling at Damian while he attacks him.

There's a Good Ending, a Bad Ending, and a True Ending. The Bad Ending results in Damian being killed by Danny, it happens when Damian decides not to question or suspect Danny and treats him kindly. The Bad Ending is a cutscene, where Danny kills Damian quick and painlessly.

Meanwhile the Good Ending is Damian killing Danny. This is a boss fight, and it happens when Damian treats Danny coldly and suspiciously the whole time. Danny as a result, decides to make Damian's death painful as he had planned to, which is why it's a boss fight because it only causes him to double down on his anger.

The True Ending is Damian escapes with Tim. It happens when you treat Danny warmly up until the last minute, where when Danny proposes to Damian that he wants to show him something, Damian goes to talk to Tim and finally, reluctantly agrees that something is off with Danny, and that he'll be careful going in. It starts off with the boss fight until a third through, where it then changes to a cutscene where Tim manages to get the door open and Damian escapes out. It's then a chase scene down a never-ending hallway as the building actively works to keep you trapped inside. But you eventually make it to the exit so long as you avoid all the projectiles and doors.

Remember when I mentioned that Danny only lets people leave when he wants them to? That's where the treating Danny kindly throughout the game comes into play. It causes him to second guess himself and, eventually, reawaken and strengthen the love and admiration he had for Damian prior to his murder. It's why in the Bad Ending he kills Damian quickly -- because by then, he loves him enough that he doesn't want him to suffer, but is still so consumed by his rage and need for vengeance that he kills him anyways. That quiet part is what allows Damian (and Tim) to find the exit, because some part of Danny still loves Damian enough that he wants him to live.

The True Ending ends with a cutscene of Damian and Tim tumbling out into the snow/grass outside of the base. Damian looks up back to the entrance to see Danny standing there. But rather than a ten year old boy, there's a little five year old Danyal Al Ghul instead. He stares at Damian emotionlessly, blood seeping from his chest, staining his clothes, and little, bloody sword in his hands and tearstains on his cheeks, before he turns away and disappears back into the building.

[aaronsrpgs]

The Tight 90

(This is a continuation or a fractal reviewing of what I've written about in The Worksheet Manifesto and The Quickstart, The Home Game.)

THE TIGHT 90 is a 90-minute RPG session. It riffs on the perfect length/density of a movie, and I think it's a term I learned/stole from will jobst.

WHY RUN SHORT GAMES?

Short games are easier to fit in a schedule. (We're all so fucking busy.)

Short games are easier to pay attention to. (We're all so fucking mentally ill.)

Short games focus on the good stuff and discard the bad stuff. (We're all so fucking tired.)

HOW RUN SHORT GAMES?

Tell everyone, "We're only going to play for 90 minutes. Because of that, I'm going to focus on the things that are most interesting and exciting for everyone at table, and I'm going to skip over everything else. I would appreciate it if you would do the same. If there's something you're really excited to do, tell the table! And if things are dragging, offer an alternative that moves the game along."

But then we actually have to do that. :( How?

SET SCENES AND STAKES

Don't start in a place where nothing is happening and ask your players "What do you?" Give them something to latch onto! Give them an immediate problem! Here are the first four pages of an issue of Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont, Dave Cockrum, et al:

In four pages we get a fatal problem, introductions, flashbacks on how they got here, and spotlights on everyone's powers. Awesome!

And while you don't have to have your players' characters falling out of the sky, at least start them at the dungeon entrance with a couple clear things to DO.

(For more on setting scenes and stakes, check out Primetime Adventures by Matt Wilson, which Sam Dunnewold was kind enough to run for me.)

Of course, if they're falling out of the sky or standing at a foreboding dungeon entrance, some player is bound to ask, "What do I have with me?" To which I say:

CUT THE BORING SHIT

Shopping? Don't do it! If someone would logically have something, they can have it. And if they try to exploit that, they're no fun to play with! Tell them no. (More on that later.)

Conversations on meandering horseback? Don't do it! Comic writer Chuck Dixon said that if Batman and Robin needed to have a heart-to-heart, they should never just stand around talking. They should have a heart-to-heart while training on top of a speeding train.

(The example was actually Nightwing and Robin, but I didn't want people to click away and look up who Nightwing was. Also, Dixon is a shitty guy! But at least in this, he was right.)

Basically, almost anything you can get out of a shopping scene or a campfire chat, you can get from everyone falling out of the sky or trying to escape a wildfire. ALL SCENES SHOULD PULL DOUBLE DUTY AS PLOT AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

BE GENEROUS WITH INFORMATION

Imagine a scene at a gaming table. The characters walk into a house in an empty town and ask what they see. The GM tells them to roll perception. The highest result is middling at best. The GM says, "You think you can see some blood." Someone else asks if they can roll investigation. They get a middle high result. The GM says, "There are some bullet casings on the floor and claw marks on the walls." Are the claw marks big? Roll perception again. Do they look like any local animals? Roll nature.

THIS SHIT SUCKS. It's a way to take 30 minutes to poorly tell the players that something interesting happened, and it doesn't give them anything to do after.

Instead, try this: the walls are splattered with blood and empty shell casings lie cold on the floor. The blood doesn't line up with what you know about bullet wounds, though; it lines up with the huge claw marks that tear the walls and floor. And blood drops continue in a line outside...

AND THEN if a player has a cool ability or is an investigator or druid or whatever, you get to write them a cool note that says, "These claw marks are bigger than any animal from around here. Maybe bigger than any animal you've ever seen."

Other examples:

The prince says he doesn't feel threatened by the king. He's clearly lying.

Moving stealthily, you make it to the general's bedroom, but it's clear that he has some sort of sensors or security system set up there.

As a wizard, you know they're casting some sort of summoning spell, and if at least half of the cultists aren't hurt or incapacitated in five minutes, the spell will succeed.

GIVE THE SESSION AN ENDING

It could be an exciting cliffhanger if you think everyone will be there next session to pick it up. But if you're not sure, end with a calm moment where the players have a clear next step. That way you can start next session with, "Last time you'd promised the Cult of Mirrors that you would lead them in war against the Skeleton Army. They're ready to go and ask you what your plan is."

FURTHER HOMEWORK

"How To End Things" by Jason Morningstar. On cutting scenes. Don't be fooled by the Patron link; it's free.

"Grand Experiments: West Marches" by Ben Robbins. The ur-text of running player-motivated sessions that don't require everyone to be there.

BUT WHAT IF!!!

What if rolling investigation rolls are vital to building tension in my mystery game? What if knowing the exact inventory and distance are vital to my high-stress dungeon game? What if campfire stories are my favorite part of our cozy travel game?

COOL! There are lots of resources out there for you, so this isn't for you. But maybe I could tempt you into considering a different style of game sometimes?

(Special thanks to @ladytabletop for supporting my Tight 90 obsession.)

[traiaadd156]

No! But listen the damian wayne al ghul yandere! Head cannons(from my on going blog pinned up.)

Warning!; violence, cncs, coaxing/gaslight, bruises, smut w plot, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, aged up! Damian, him being smitten(?) cringe dialog💗 fem reader. Him being a lil sweet(?)

Yan!damian who wouldnt even block any hits or scratches you make just so he would have any sort of markings of you! I could just see him looking a bit flustered when you actually land in any good hit or kick. Since he is always the one having the upper hand all the time.

Yan!damian literally has heart eyes whenever you're trying to rip his face off with your teeth or gouge out his eyes and eat them to spite him, he truly is in love. Not just because of your kindness but soon enough how you tried to convince yourself you weren't crazy like him.

The way he eases you whenever he pushes himself in, feeling your walls clench and suckle. God, the way whenever you hit and drum at his chest lowly grows weak and your muscles no longer tense. Soon your arms wrapping around his shoulders you'd be balanced.

Even he leans in so you could bite him and have more areas to scratch and mark, the scent of you he could only remember than bottle, but if there was an option to he'd do it.

The wetness and erotic sounds coming out of your body, every snap of his hips and the 'plap plap plap' becoming more audible, just like every mewl and whimper that comes out. A hot messy opened mouth kiss so he could swallow any sound you made, since it only was for him.

Yan!damian is in heaven, or hell. Either way he is enjoying it, he no longer felt your anger towards him which was a little disappointing at first since he really wanted to break your ankles if you escaped one more time so you could truly be only dependant on him. There is no option in leaving.

Yan!damian is a SUCKER for any bite marks and visible red marks either on his arm or neck, just anywhere in general. And when the first month hits when your finally coaxed into accepting your life in that underground house he built for the two of you. Good god he is over the moon! When he sees that you arent even trying to escape or become less hostile it was an improvement. He wears that shit like a fucking trophy, he would never admit it out loud but it feels like you made him whole.

To fill his greed, he only wanted you. The love you gave, the peace of your presence and the flesh you'd fill him with.

Yan!damian finally lets you out after he is sure you wouldn't run away, he found it so cute whenever you seemed surprised or happy over the smallest thing. Your first official date happened to be in an expensive carnival he had driven too, he would watch from the corner of his eye when you had opened the window to let in the fresh air to hit your face.

But of course he would always be there even whilst on the carnival date, even the bathrooms. He had made you dress down and wore baggy clothing and a cap so you wouldnt be recognized as the missing person from last year.

Yan!damian watching you stuff your face with whatever food that seems to interest you, or items you wanted him to buy so you could decorate your dead looking room. Of course he always seem to heed, but it was always attached with a bit of a remark since he found your eagerness a bit childish(even if it made him happy you no longer were shutting down on him.) it was a nice change, you practically looked ridiculous with the amount of things you were carrying that he couldnt carry since his hands were also full and how he had to practically drag you away from the ring tossing games(you lost two times already)

Reader; "please just one more round!" Pleading to him whilst he dragged you away, he was growing a little too wary since the stall owner was looking at your face too long. Why should he be looking when there isnt anything to look at?(Not that he'd let you be with anyone else anyways..)

"No way, And you already have enough gelato and fries. Your going to vomit when we go home." He stated gruffly, using that logic as you solemnly nodded in a huff whilst following him holding his hand out of instinct.

Yan!damian God the way his heart jumped out when you held his hand, just grabbing his three fingers since it was easier to hold that way. And so you both had driven home content, you were asleep in the back seat with all the things you bought that couldnt be fitted into the trunk. (And of course he was forced to carry you bridal style out since he didn't want to wake you up, it was rather easy manhandling you now that he didn't hesitate like he'd break you.)

I hope u guys enjoyed even if it was a small blurb^⁠_⁠^

[ohproserpine]

ix. deer dolly

see all chapters here apologies for the delay! this SHORT chapter is all about the long-awaited reunion, filled with steamy scenes. no plot points, just pure passion. if this portrayal isn't your cup of tea, feel free to skip to the next chapter: to be posted in a few days. tags: fem! reader, alastor being demisexual/demiromantic, allusions to marital activities, steamy bordering smut, mention of blood and injury, religious symbolism, love as a fucked up obsession

As you shut your eyes, the world around you dissolves into swirling shadows. The darkness envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of weightlessness. Pressed against Alastor, you bury your face into his suit, your cheek brushing against the smooth silk of his tie. The decrepit, torn building fades away, replaced by the crisp, clean ambiance of a hotel room. The air feels fresher, devoid of the musty odors that had clung to your senses before. Light streams in through the windows, casting delicate patterns on the walls that dance and sway with ethereal grace.

"Cher."

Rough lips press tenderly against the side of your temple and a heave escapes your chest, tears tracing silent paths down your cheeks, their presence unnoticed until they meet the fabric beneath your eyes, staining Alastors suit. The noise of your own blood rushing in your ears drowns out all other sounds, leaving you isolated in a world of agony.

Suddenly, the pain in your ankle resurges with a vicious intensity, sending waves of agony coursing through your body. A whimper escapes your lips, barely audible amidst the overwhelming sensation. It feels as though your very being is folding in on itself, ribs straining against flesh, breath catching in your throat. With the adrenaline long gone, every ache and throb becomes magnified, threatening to consume you whole.

"Al, it hurts," you manage to utter, your voice strained with anguish.

Alastor remains silent, his dilated, frenzied eyes locked onto your shaking form. His hand reaches up, lingering where your throat meets your jaw, the sharp points of his claws pressing down with a calculated pressure. You feel a sharp nip, and a bead of blood begins to seep from the small wound, a crimson offering that seems to stir something primal within him.

His mouth waters, and he swallows audibly, his gaze fixated on the trickle of blood.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs softly, the words a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes. His thumb moves to gently swipe away the tears that streak down your cheeks, his touch oddly tender despite the predatory gleam in his gaze.

Leaning down, Alastor presses a tender kiss against the small wound, his lips a soothing balm against the raw edges of your suffering. A rush of conflicting emotions floods through you—pain, longing, and a desperate craving for his touch. With a soft sniffle, you raise a trembling hand to press against the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair.

Alastor responds to your desperate craving, his hands flying to your hips as he lifts you effortlessly and lays you down onto a nearby chair. One of his shadows encircles your ankle, causing you to tense instinctively. However, instead of pain, you feel a cool sensation spreading through your skin, soothing the ache and tension. With a sigh of relief, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to relax into the chair.

All the while, Alastor's gaze pierces through you, his eyes dark with desire and desperation.

You're right in front of him, vulnerable and exposed, a temptation too potent to resist. The taste of your blood still lingers on his tongue and he longs to sink his teeth into your soft flesh, to taste the sweetness of your essence as he consumes you with a fervor bordering on madness, leaving marks that brand you as his and his alone. Every fiber of his being yearns to ravage and possess you, to consume you in a frenzy of passion.

But he understands that to yield to his desires would mean risking further harm to you, and he cannot bear the thought of causing you any more pain.

And so, with a tortured soul and a heavy heart, he fights against the primal instincts that surge within him, denying himself the one thing he craves above all else.

As the minutes pass and the pain begins to dissipate, you find yourself panting softly, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Exhaustion and relief wash over you in waves, mingling with the lingering ache that still echoes through your body.

Gazing up at Alastor, you smile, your hands instinctively moving to rest on his lower abdomen, seeking the reassuring warmth of his touch in the dimly lit room.

A silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Alastor's hands remain clenched at his sides, the strain evident in the way his claws dig into his palms, threatening to break through the surface of his flesh. The protection of his gloves is the only barrier preventing the sharp tips from drawing blood.

His intense gaze, like twin flames burning in the shadows, enveloped you in their fiery embrace. Crimson eyes, almost glowing with intensity, held you captive, trapping you in a cage of his unspoken desires.

With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent that he was relinquishing control, leaving you with the reins in your hands and him at your mercy.

Straightening yourself, you let your nails graze over his abdomen before landing on his beating chest. The rhythmic pulse beneath your touch erratic. Finally, after what feels like an eternity to Alastor, you break the stifling stillness with a voice barely above a whisper. "On your knees."

Alastor's gaze darkens, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he pauses for a moment, as if considering your request. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, your husband obeys, sinking to his knees before you.

Wasting no time, you seize him by the collar, pulling him close as your lips collide in a fevered kiss. The red lipstick you wear leaves its mark on his mouth, staining and smearing across his lips, cheek, and jaw. A low growl escapes him as he tugs off the jacket to his suit before his claws are grazing down your legs, leaving a trail of destruction as the fabric of your stockings tears with an audible rip.

With a breathless whimper, his name rolls off your lips, and Alastor freezes in place. It's as if something inside him shatters, a floodgate bursting open to release the pent-up longing and passion that he's kept restrained for so long.

Suddenly, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as he responds to the urgency of your kiss with equal fervor. With a low, primal grunt, your husband pushes against you. Every brush of his lips against yours, every press of his body against yours, speaking of a hunger that can no longer be contained. It's a hunger born of years of yearning and longing, a hunger that demands to be sated here and now.

Both of you lean back, lost in the intoxicating frenzy of desire. The chair beneath you groans and creaks ominously under the strain before finally giving way with a loud snap.

You yelp in surprise as the ground rushes up to meet you, but before you can hit the hard floor, Alastor's arms wrap around you protectively, catching you in a tight embrace. With a swift motion, he pulls you up into his embrace, effortlessly supporting your weight as he holds you close.

With deliberate steps, Alastor guides you to the edge of the bed before gently lowering you onto its soft surface. You land with a huff and a thud, the mattress embracing you like a comforting embrace.

As you settle onto the plush bedding, Alastor follows suit, hovering above you with his arms caging your head. Leaning down, he presses a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts, each touch igniting a fire within you.

The straps of your white silk dress are tugged down, revealing the curve of your chest as you melt into the softness of the mattress. Your body instinctively arches towards his touch, every nerve alive with anticipation. As his hands explore the contours of your body, your mind succumbs to a blissful haze, thoughts dissolving into a fog of desire and need.

"Al..."

Alastor continued his ministrations, each kiss a fervent prayer offered up to the goddess beneath him. A reunion long overdue, it felt akin to a sacred ritual. With each tender touch of his lips, he sought to worship you in the most unholy of ways, offering himself up as a devoted supplicant at the altar of your desires.

[nahoney22]

Liar Liar (Part 1/?)

🫧 Part One - 79's

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader.

🫧 word count: 5k.

🫧 Plot: When you meet a so-called clone named Whisky at 79's, you're a bit flustered with the impression he left on you. Little did you know that you were now caught in a web of Commander Fox’s lie.

🫧 Chapter Warnings: Safe for work, alcohol consumption, lying, teasing, flirting, Corrie guard antics, Fox is a little shit, grumpy. AFAB Female reader.

🫧 Authors note: Hi! So this is going to be a short story about reader and Commander Fox. Be prepared for lots of flirting, angst, crying, fun and eventual smutty goodness! Enjoy. I've also posted most parts to my AO3 account (NaHoney).

“You gonna join us tonight?”

You glance up from your work, eyebrows raised. “And that would be…?”

“79’s, of course!” Thire grins, slinging his arm around one of his brothers. “We need a break.”

“He’s right. I can’t remember the last time I had a night just to relax,” Hound chimes in, leaning casually against the wall, his helmet tucked under one arm. 

They look at you expectantly as you mull it over. You rarely went out—especially not with the boys—but the idea of unwinding at 79’s didn’t sound half bad. Besides, your friend Pia was working tonight, and catching up with her had been long overdue.

“Sure,” you say, nodding as you distribute the last of the data files onto the desks for tomorrow’s shift. “I’ll be there.”

The troopers exchange approving smiles. “Should we ask Fox?” Hound wonders aloud, glancing at his brothers before shifting his gaze to you.

“Why bother?” Stone snorts from the doorway. “He always says no.”

You roll your eyes but can’t deny the truth in Stone’s words. You’d overheard Fox turn down countless invitations. 

Anyway, he didn’t seem the type to let loose, especially with how rowdy the boys could get after a few rounds of Corellian ale. 

“I don’t see the harm in asking him again,” you reply, shrugging. “But yeah, he’ll probably say no.”

They leave you with the task. You finish tidying up, making sure everything is prepped for tomorrow. The clock ticks closer to 1900 hours, but Fox still hasn’t returned from the Senate. Deciding you’ve waited long enough, you gather your things and head for the door.

Just as you hit the button to open it, the door hisses apart, and you nearly collide with the broad red armor of Commander Fox.

“Oh!” You step back quickly, almost tripping over your own feet. “There you are.”

Fox enters, his usual confident stride noticeably subdued. He moves to his desk, his back to you, shoulders tense beneath his armor.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you continue, hovering uncertainly near the doorway.

 A weary and almost impatient sigh filters through his modulator. “And why’s that?”

Something’s off. You’re used to his abrupt tone, but tonight there’s a heaviness to it that makes you hesitate with your answer 

“Everything okay, Commander?” Your tone softens, concerned as you ignore his question.

“Fine,” he replies curtly, glancing over his shoulder. When he sees the worry etched on your face, he sighs again, this time sounding more human than soldier. “It’s just been a long day.”

You offer a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I can imagine. You usually don’t finish this late at the Senate.”

He turns fully to face you, leaning back against his desk. His arms cross over his chest. “I’ve finished later,” he says dryly. “Is everything sorted for the morning?” He then asks, changing topic swiftly.

“Yes, Commander. Everyone has their files, and I put through an order for more supplies.”

“Such as?” He presses.

You hold your tongue and maintain a neutral expression. Back to his grumpy self, it seems.

“Extra medpacs, ammo, and rations. They should arrive by 0900 hours,” you list off, trying to sound efficient and competent, even though his scrutiny makes your blood simmer.

Fox nods absently, his visor fixed on you. Then he starts rattling off a checklist of additional tasks. Everything from inventory updates, personnel reports, security drills. You bite back the urge to roll your eyes, wondering why he insists on making everything harder than it needs to be.

“Like I said, Commander,” you interrupt gently but firmly when he finishes, “I’ve taken care of everything. For you.”

The ‘for you’ slips out sharper than intended, and you can’t help the flicker of satisfaction when you see his posture stiffen slightly. Turning away, you head for the door, masking your irritation with a forced calm. Just before you step out, you hesitate, glancing back.

“I stayed because the boys wanted to see if you’d join us at 79’s tonight. I’ll tell them you’re busy.” 

Because ‘busy’ always sounds better than ‘tired’.

⋅⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

“There she is!” Stone cheers the moment he spots you, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You grin as you weave through the packed club, the bass of music thudding in your chest, lights flickering in shades of blue and violet. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Typical 79’s.

As you reach the group, a chorus of nods and smiles greet you. Thire, Hound, and a few other Corrie Guards stand clustered together, already a few drinks in.

“Lookin’ good.” Hound nods appreciatively, earning a playful jab from you but accepting the compliment regardless. It’s not often you dress up, after all and the shirt you bought last month was too cute not to wear.

“Surprised to see you all behaving,” you tease, eyeing Thire’s drink before shifting to the man himself. “Especially you. No table dancing tonight?”

Thire groans, rubbing his head like the memory physically pains him. “I thought we all agreed not to bring that up.”

“Too hard to forget.” You smirk. “Especially the part where you fell flat on your face.”

Hound chokes on his drink, while Stone grins over the rim of his own. “I swear, the look on his face right before he went down—priceless.”

Thire mutters something about betrayal under his breath but smirks anyway.

“So, I take it the Commander isn’t coming?” Hound then asks, shifting the conversation as he leans closer.

You bite back a smart remark, still holding a minor grudge from your last interaction with Fox. Instead, you just shake your head. “Nope. He was really busy. Lots of files to go through.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Stone mutters, downing another sip.

You nod along, but despite your irritation, you can’t shake the image of Fox’s slumped posture, the exhaustion practically radiating off him. Still, you push the thought aside and excuse yourself, heading toward the bar.

Sliding onto a stool, you drum your fingers against the bartop, scanning the crowd until a familiar voice breaks through the noise.

“There’s my girl!” Pia grins, practically launching herself over the bar to pull you into a quick hug. “It’s been forever!”

“Oh, I know,” you sigh, grateful for the warmth of her presence. “Work’s been eating up my life. I haven’t had time for anything.”

“Tell me about it,” Pia groans, throwing a rag over her shoulder. “I’ve covered four extra shifts this week. Four! I basically live here.”

“That’s rough.”

“I wouldn’t mind if the pay was half-decent,” she grumbles, before quickly turning to serve an impatient trooper waving a handful of credits. She hands him his drink with a pointed look before spinning back to you. “Anyway, let’s get you a drink.”

As she sets a fruity, colorful concoction in front of you, you instinctively reach for your credits, but Pia swats your hand away with the tiny umbrella meant for your drink.

“Absolutely not.” She tuts, popping the umbrella in your glass for extra flourish.

You arch a brow. “You sure?”

“Of course.” She’s already dashing off to serve someone else before you can protest, so you just shake your head with a laugh.

“Don’t expect a tip, then,” you joke.

“Wouldn’t expect one from you anyway!” Pia calls over her shoulder, grinning.

You take a sip, humming in satisfaction. Perfect, as always. As the straw hangs lazily from your lips, you scan the bar, looking for any more familiar faces—though, ironically, in a room full of clones, everyone looks familiar.

Then you spot him.

Across the bar, a clone sits alone, elbow propped up as he rests his head in his hand. He looks… tired. Maybe bored. Maybe just hoping no one will bother him. But there’s something about him that catches your attention.

Salt-and-pepper curls frame his face, the dim light emphasising the lines along his forehead. He wears his blacks, leaving his battalion unclear. But you can’t shake the feeling that you should know who he is.

Before you can think too hard about it, Pia appears in your line of sight, snapping you back to reality.

“So, how is it?” she asks, wiggling her brows.

You blink. “How’s what?”

“The drink, duh .”

“Oh.” You flush slightly, realising you’d been too busy staring at the mystery trooper. “Yeah, it’s great. Thanks.”

Pia beams at the praise before suddenly flipping off a customer who’s been aggressively clicking his fingers for service. “ I said I’ll be with you in a minute!” she snaps, before turning back to you. “So, who’s your company tonight?”

“The Corrie Guards, of course.”

Pia gives you a skeptical look. “Uh-huh. Well, do me a favor and make sure Thire stays off the tables this time.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Already warned him.”

As Pia busies herself with another round of orders, your gaze naturally drifts back to the clone across the bar. For a split second, you swear he meets your eyes, but Pia keeps unintentionally blocking your view.

“Hey! When am I gonna get my drink?” the same customer whines, earning a spectacular eye-roll from Pia.

“When I’m done talking to my friend .” She smiles sweetly, almost menacingly.

“You’re not even serving her anymore! You’re just chatting!”

Pia glares at him. He promptly shrinks back in his seat.

You take another sip of your drink before nodding toward the lone clone. “Say, do you know who that is?”

Pia grins knowingly. “Obviously. That’s—”

“Listen, lady, I just wanna get a drink and—”

“Kriff, fine ! Fine! ” Pia throws her hands up, stomping over to the persistent patron.

You sigh as she gets pulled away, your curiosity about the mystery trooper left frustratingly unanswered.

You try not to keep stealing glances at him, but there’s just something about him. It’s distracting. 

Maybe it’s the salt-and-pepper streaking through his curls, maybe it’s the way his shoulders hunch, like he’s carrying the weight of an entire day on them. He’s got that whole brooding, don’t-talk-to-me aura, which—ironically—only makes you more curious.

And, apparently, more reckless.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab a napkin from the dispenser and fish a pen out of your purse. You hesitate, pen hovering over the flimsy paper. What do you even write? Something casual? Flirty? Mysterious?

You roll your eyes at yourself—definitely overthinking it. Finally, you scribble down:

You look lonely. I can fix that.

As soon as you read it back, you cringe. Too forward? Too suggestive? Maybe you should—

Nope. No time for second-guessing. You fold the napkin before you can change your mind. Pia is still swamped, barely keeping up with the sea of 212th troopers ordering drinks, but thankfully, a server droid hums by.

Perfect.

“Hey,” you beckon it over, glancing toward the clone across the bar. “Can you take this to him?”

The droid gives a curt beep. “That is not my function.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan. “It’ll take two seconds.”

“Then do it yourself.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ll tell Pia you need rewiring.”

The droid snatches the napkin without another word, wheeling off toward the clone.

Your stomach knots as you watch it place the note in front of him, then—completely unhelpfully—point directly at you. Great. You quickly avert your eyes, suddenly regretting everything.

But you still sneak a glance from the corner of your eye.

The clone straightens slightly, unfolds the napkin. Reads it. Pauses. Then, without a flicker of reaction, folds it back up and finishes his drink.

And then… he stands.

Your stomach drops. Oh. That’s it, then. He doesn’t even look your way as he walks off, disappearing into the crowd.

You exhale, a mix of relief and secondhand embarrassment washing over you. You swirl the ice in your glass and mutter to yourself, “Well. Won’t be doing that again.”

A voice speaks up behind you.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

You turn on your stool, and—oh.

The clone from across the bar is now standing right in front of you. Tall. Broad. Close.

Heat creeps up your neck. Your mouth suddenly dry.

“…Yeah,” you manage, a little breathless. “Kind of surprised, actually.”

“How come?” He gestures to the empty stool beside you, waiting for your nod before he sits.

“You looked like a man who didn’t want to be bothered.” You take a sip of your drink, hoping it steadies you.

“And yet, you were bold enough to send a note,” he muses, lips curving just slightly. “Very sweet.”

You giggle, shrugging as you set your glass down with a soft clink. “You don’t know if you don’t try.”

His amusement lingers. “Looks like it paid off.” He chuckles, then tilts his head. “Can I get you another drink?”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

He signals for another round, ordering one for himself, too.

“So,” you begin, tilting your head, “I haven’t seen you around before. What battalion are you with?”

The clone pauses just a fraction too long before answering, “Coruscant Guard.”

Your brows lift. “Oh? Me too! I feel like I would’ve noticed you… what’s your name?”

Another brief hesitation. Then: “Whisky.”

You arch a brow. “Whisky?”

“That’s right.” He nods, taking a deeper sip of his drink. There’s a flicker of nerves in his expression, but you don’t press. “Big whisky fan.”

You chuckle. “Fair enough. Cool name.”

“And yours?”

You offer your name along with your hand, flashing a bright, playful grin.

For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, he places his hand in yours. His palm is warm, his grip firm but careful.

“Lovely name,” he murmurs.

His voice is smooth, just a little too low, and it sends a surprising shiver up your spine. There’s something about the way he holds your hand—like he’s not sure if he should, but doesn’t want to let go, either. The earlier nervousness is gone, replaced by a small, amused smirk.

And you?

You’re intrigued.

Still, you release his hand before yours can get clammy. “So, the Corrie Guard?” You lean back slightly, studying him. “I still feel like I should’ve seen you around.”

He clears his throat, taking another long sip. “I’m not exactly frontline.”

That explains it. “What department?”

“Mechanic.”

That really explains it. You nod, feeling a little sheepish. “Ah, that’s probably why. I love working with my boys in red, though. They’re good to me.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates. “So, uh… what’s the Commander like?”

You blink. “Fox?”

He nods.

You smirk, turning away slightly as you consider your answer. A hundred words come to mind—moody, buzzkill, abrasive, miserable, exhausted…

“Grumpy,” you settle on, swirling your drink. “Big grump.”

He chuckles. “Can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, but he is.” You huff, thinking back to earlier that night. “But… he works hard, so sometimes the grumpiness is excused.”

“Sure,” Whisky nods, idly swiping at the condensation on his glass. He hesitates again. “He… does he treat you okay?”

You arch a brow, amused. “Why? You planning to put in a word for me?”

The teasing is lighthearted, but Whisky seems oddly stiff about it. You wave it off before he can dwell. “He’s okay,” you say simply. “He just gets under my skin sometimes. I don’t think he means to.” You sigh, taking another sip before turning back to him. “You know him?”

He shakes his head, then drinks. “Nah. Just heard he can be a little hard on people.”

You hum. “You got that right.”

You don’t notice the way Whisky shifts in his seat, rubbing a hand through his hair, his eyes dropping into his glass. He’s quiet, thoughtful—until you break the silence again.

“Actually,” you say, warmth from the alcohol making you bolder, “I know a secret about him.”

He raises a brow. “You do?”

You giggle and scoot closer, lowering your voice. “I’ll tell you but you have to keep it between us.” You hold up your hand, pinky extended. “And all my promises have to be pinky sweared.”

Whisky stares at you for a second, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. Then, with a small smirk, he hooks his pinky around yours. “Alright. Spill.”

“So, about a year ago, I was in the office, sorting files or whatever. I came across one of his, and being the amazing worker I am, I marched right up to him at his desk and dropped it in front of him.” You start grinning, the memory as vivid as if it happened yesterday.

“And you know what he said?”

Whisky watches you closely, his gaze flickering to your lips as you lean in, your voice dropping secretively. 

Closer, closer, closer…

“No,” he murmurs.

“Nothing.”

His brows draw together. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, eyes alight with mischief. “Because he was snoring under his bucket.”

There’s a moment of silence followed by laughter. You tip your head back, giggling as you wipe a tear from your eye, and Whisky laughs along with you, shaking his head. It’s not even that funny, but the irony of it is too good.

“He always tells us to work harder, no time for rest,” you say, rolling your eyes. “And there he was, sleeping on the job. And it wasn’t even the first time! He sleeps upright, so it looks like he’s just watching us. But nope. Out cold.”

“So he’s a slacker?” Whisky smirks.

You shake your head. “No, not a slacker. He works hard. Really hard.”

“But you didn’t wake him?” He eyes you curiously.

“Nah. He barely gets any rest as it is, so I let him sleep.” You glance at Whisky, smirking. “Besides… it’s kinda cute.”

Whisky watches you closely, his lips twitching at your laughter, but his eyes seem to linger on you a moment longer than necessary. He swirls his drink idly, then asks, “You think he’d be mad if he knew you caught him slacking?”

You shrug, still grinning. “Maybe. But what’s he gonna do? Fire me? I know he’s my boss but those lot won’t function without me.” You laugh. “Besides, I doubt he gets much rest, so I let him sleep. Figured he needed it.”

There’s something in Whisky’s expression that shifts—just slightly. His fingers drum against his glass, his posture relaxing, but you catch a flicker of something you can’t quite place. It’s gone as soon as it appears, replaced by that same amused smirk.

“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” he muses.

You roll your eyes but smile.“It’s not sentimental. Just… practical.”

“You like him,” he says. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You hum, tilting your head. “I admire him,” you correct, swirling your drink. “Fox works harder than anyone I know. He doesn’t just give orders—he takes the weight of everything on his shoulders. Every mission, every casualty, every prisoner, every mistake. And I don’t think anyone really sees that.”

Whisky watches you carefully, listening.

You sigh, resting your elbow on the bar. “I just wish he was… a little nicer, sometimes. He’s got a good squad. I mean, the guys look up to him. I think if he let himself relax, let himself be one of them instead of always keeping himself separate, they’d follow him even harder. But he never does.” You exhale, shaking your head. “I dunno. It’s not my business, really. Just somethin’ I think about.”

Whisky is quiet for a second, “Maybe he doesn’t know how,” he says finally.

You pause. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Maybe.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips, but it’s softer this time. “You’re a bit of a softie, huh?”

You scoff, playfully nudging him with your elbow “Shut up.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not a bad thing.” He takes a sip of his nearly empty drink, eyes flicking over you. “You care about your squad.”

“Of course I do,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “I spend all my time with them. They’re like family.”

Whisky hums, contemplative. He watches you for a moment longer before he shifts in his seat, leaning a little closer, his arm brushing against yours.

“So,” he says, voice dipping lower, more conspiratorial, “if Fox is the grumpiest, who’s your favourite?”

You huff a laugh. “Oh, come on, I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I pick one, I’ll have to deal with the rest of them whining about it for the next month.” You shake your head. “I’m not walking into that trap.”

Whisky grins. “Smart.”

You take a sip of your drink, then tilt your head at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re in the Guard, too. You’ve gotta have a favourite.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second—so quick you almost miss it. Then, he smirks. “Can’t say I’ve thought about it.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Liar.”

He chuckles, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he taps the side of his glass. “Alright, fine. Who gives you the most trouble?”

You groan dramatically. “Thorn . Hands down.”

Whisky raises a brow. “That bad?”

“He’s so smug,” you complain, exasperated. “He knows he can get away with murder because he’s one of Fox’s best. And he loves rubbing it in my face. I’d also argue Stone because he’s cheeky but Thorn can be devious if he wants to be.”

Whisky chuckles. “Sounds like a menace.”

“Oh, he is ,” you confirm. “But I can’t even be mad about it, because he’s also stupidly good at his job. So I just have to suffer .”

He leans in close. “Poor thing.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t patronise me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” His voice is smooth, teasing, and— Maker , his eyes are intense when they settle on you like that.

Your breath catches slightly, but you mask it with another sip of your drink. The air between you has shifted—still playful, but heavier now, charged with something unspoken.

You clear your throat. “So, Whisky,” you say, changing the subject. “Tell me something about you .”

His smirk lingers, but there’s a flicker of something else behind it. “What do you wanna know?”

You tap your fingers against the bar, pretending to think. “Mmm… what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done while on duty?”

Whisky chuckles, shaking his head. “Now that’s a dangerous question.”

“Oh, come on,” you nudge him. “I won’t tell.”

He eyes you for a moment, considering. Then, he leans in slightly, voice lowering just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

“Alright,” he murmurs, “but if I tell you… you owe me another secret in return.”

You grin. “Deal.”

And just like that, the night stretches on and the hours slip away without either of you noticing.

⋅───⊱༺ 🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

It starts with secrets, little things at first. Just small confessions that wouldn’t ruin you if they got out. 

You tell him about the time you ‘accidentally’ shredded a report you were supposed to file, and how you spent half the day trying to piece it back together before finally giving up and blaming it on a faulty data pad. Or how you once snuck into the supply room after hours because Thorn had been too busy to eat, and you stole rations for both of you under the pretense of ‘inventory control.’

Whisky listens with quiet amusement, the occasional smile flickering across his lips as he watches you talk. He’s not a big sharer. His own stories are vague and kind of always deflecting back to you. But when you mention your upbringing, your life before the Republic and the war, he leans in slightly, genuinely intrigued.

“You ever think about what comes after?” you ask at one point.

His brow furrows slightly. “After?”

You nod. “Yeah. Like… what happens when the war ends? What do you want to do?”

For the first time, Whisky hesitates—not the way he had before, when he seemed like he was choosing his words carefully, but like he’s genuinely never considered it. 

“You don’t have to answer,” you say quickly, suddenly feeling bad for asking as he stares into his drink.

“No, it’s not that.” His voice is quiet. “I just… don’t know.”

The admission sits heavy between you, and before you can say anything else, he shifts the conversation.

“What about you?”

You exhale, leaning back against the bar. “Dunno.” You smile a little, but it’s laced with something soft and wistful. “I’d love to travel. See what’s out there, you know? Maybe settle somewhere quiet. Own a little shop or something.”

He studies you. “You’d leave Coruscant?”

You huff a small laugh. “Wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer.

The music has quieted now, the heavy bass that once thrummed beneath your feet nothing more than a distant pulse. The strobe lights have stopped their restless dance, leaving the room bathed in the softer glow of overhead fixtures. It’s only then that you realise most of the patrons have left.

You turn back to Whisky, surprised to find him watching you. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something quiet and intense.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

“You’re really beautiful.”

The words catch you off guard. You blink, lips parting slightly before you shake your head, laughing softly. “You don’t know me.”

“Do I have to?”

You frown slightly, not in offense but in confusion. “How can you find a person beautiful if you don’t know them?”

Whisky exhales a small laugh, looking down briefly before meeting your gaze again. “I… you look beautiful,” he says, voice steady but soft. “And the way you talk about your family, about your squad… it’s nice.”

You watch him before smirking a touch. “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome.” Your voice is teasing, but there’s warmth beneath it, something genuine that makes his grip on his glass tighten.

He smirks however, trying to play off your compliment. “That means you think all my brothers are handsome.”

You hum in mock consideration, swirling the last of your drink. “Maybe so…” You take a slow sip, then let your eyes meet his again. “But maybe I find you the most attractive.”

There’s a shift between you, a flicker of something deeper in the way he looks at you—like he’s memorising the moment, the words, the way you say them. His lips part slightly, a breath drawn in like he’s about to say something, but then—

“Kriff.” You sit up straighter, suddenly glancing at the time. “I’ve gotta get going! If I don’t sleep tonight, I’ll be late, and the last thing I need is to miss one of Fox’s drills.”

He reacts almost instantly, standing when you do, setting his drink down. “S-sure, no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”

“I’m taking a cab, but thank you.”

Still, he follows you out, insists on making sure you get into one safely. Outside, the night air is crisp, cool enough to make you shiver. You wrap your arms around yourself, exhaling. “Knew I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Whisky chuckles, stepping a little closer. “I could warm you up.”

The words hang between you, charged, almost daring. You tilt your head at him, amused. “Bold offer.”

He grins. “It’s there if you want it.”

A cab hovers down in front of you, and he opens the door, but you hesitate. Looking up at him, you smile softly. “It was really nice meeting you, Whisky. I hope to see you again sometime.”

There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, but he nods. “I’m sure we will. Sooner than you think.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but there’s a thrill in the mystery of it. He holds out his hand, and you roll your eyes playfully, swatting it away. “I’m not shaking your hand goodbye.”

Before he can ask what you mean, you step closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You linger for just a second, enough to feel the way he tenses, the way he barely exhales.

When you pull back, you smirk. “Goodnight, handsome.”

He inhales sharply, watching as you step into the cab. His voice is quiet, soft.

“Goodnight… beautiful.”

He stays there as your cab lifts off, watching until it’s out of sight. Then, with a deep breath, he turns—only to hear someone calling his name.

His real name.

“Fox? Fox! We didn’t know you came out tonight! Where have you been?”

Thire stumbles toward him, voice slurred, movements a little too loose. Fox rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “I’ve been busy.”

Thire squints at him, blinking blearily. “Busy, huh?” He lets out a slow, knowing grin. “Didn’t take you for the social type, Commander .”

Fox huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not.”

His brother wobbles slightly, throwing an arm around Fox’s shoulders. “Right. So where were you?”

Fox debates answering honestly for all of two seconds before shaking his head. “None of your business.”

Thire gasps dramatically, pointing at him. “ Oh. So it’s like that ? You sneak off, disappear for hours, come back looking all—” he waves his hand at him vaguely, “— not miserable… You met someone, didn’t you?”

Fox sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go back to the barracks, Thire.”

But his brother is relentless. “ You did! ” He stumbles back a step, laughing. “Oh, I gotta know. Who is it?”

Fox shakes his head, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. “Go. Now.”

Thire groans, rubbing his face. “Fine, fine. But I swear , if I see you all giddy at work tomorrow, I will find out.”

Fox rolls his eyes. “Go sleep it off.”

As he stumbles away, still muttering about Fox meeting someone , the Commander exhales slowly. He turns back toward the sky where your cab had disappeared, rubbing his jaw where your lips had touched his skin.

He should feel guilty. He should feel stupid for going along with it, for making up a name, for listening to you talk about him without you even knowing.

But he doesn’t. Not yet, anyway. 

Instead, he just wonders what he’ll do when he sees you again.

🦊 Part Two Here

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[httpswritings]

Lost On You

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader and misa rodriguez x realmadrid!reader (as friends)

This story contains unrealistic plots (you'll know which ones I'm referring to as you read throughout the story) and it doesn't have a closed happy ending for ale/reader but it does have a cute ending for misa and reader's friendship.

It’s still a blur how it all happened, but somehow, you caught the attention of a Real Madrid scout. The memory feels hazy, like a dream you can’t quite piece together.

Almost three years ago, you walked Misa, your lifelong friend, to one of her training sessions. You were always early—your fear of being late to anything saw to that—and that day was no exception. With time to kill, Misa insisted you join her for a bit until her session started. She grabbed a ball and nudged you to take a few shots, claiming it would help her warm up.

“This isn’t fair. You know I’m terrible at this, Mimi,” you protested, shaking your head.

“So what? You’re here with me. We’ve got, like, forty-five minutes to kill,” she replied, grinning.

“No, you have forty-five minutes until training. This isn’t exactly my thing,” you shot back, though your resolve was already crumbling.

You could never say no to her, especially when she looked at you with those dark brown eyes. Misa was three years older than you, but she’d always been your rock. She was your protector—through school, through high school, through everything. No one dared mess with you because they knew Misa and her friends would have your back.

There were only two times anyone tried to tease you, both involving girls who thought they were bold enough. Both times, it took just one of your tears for Misa to lose her temper. She got expelled twice—once for each girl—and she never once regretted it. That’s just who she was: fiercely loyal, always protective, and endlessly caring, like the big sister you never had.

So, of course, you gave in. You took the ball from her hands, laughing as she bounced on her toes with excitement. Her Canarian accent always thickened when she got worked up, and you couldn’t help but think it sounded even more beautiful than usual.

In the background, unbeknownst to you, a Real Madrid agent had been watching.

You’d never played football before. Growing up, you were too afraid of being judged, of people labeling you as something you weren’t. The fear of being seen as "too masculine" or "lesbian" kept you on the sidelines, even though you secretly loved the sport. You only ever allowed yourself to enjoy it from a distance, never daring to join in, even during playground games. And even if you had wanted to, you knew your parents couldn’t afford to pay for football lessons.

It was Misa’s passion for the game, along with your own journey towards the acceptance of your lesbianism, that slowly helped you feel more comfortable with yourself. But by then, it was too late to learn—you had no idea how to play.

That’s why, when you took the ball and Misa urged you to take a few shots, you missed all three attempts. Both of you burst into laughter, treating it as nothing more than a silly game to pass the time. But just as you were about to leave, a woman approached you.

She introduced herself as Sara and began asking questions—your name, where you played, what position you were in. At first, you and Misa thought it was a joke. After all, Sara had just witnessed your disastrous technique. You played along, teasingly telling her you were Misa’s biggest rival, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it.

But then Sara started asking more specific questions, and it dawned on you that she was serious. You quickly apologized for joking and admitted the truth: you’d never played football before.

To your surprise, Sara didn’t seem fazed. She insisted on scheduling an appointment to see more of you. You had no idea why she was so interested, but Misa’s piercing stare made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option. Denying the request would’ve driven her crazy, so for the sake of your friend, you reluctantly agreed.

At the appointment, Sara closely analyzed your movements. You felt completely out of place, convinced this had to be some kind of elaborate joke you weren’t in on. You struggled to keep up—missing the ball, running out of breath quickly, and looking utterly lost most of the time. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

A few days later, Sara asked you to come back. That’s when she dropped the bombshell: she wanted to sign you to Real Madrid. She made it clear that you’d be starting from scratch, and it would take years of hard work to even dream of making it to the first team. But she believed in you—enough to set an ambitious goal: she wanted you to debut by the age of twenty-two. Surprisingly, you managed to do it a year earlier.

Your playing time was limited, especially in high-stakes matches. Sara was cautious about putting you under too much pressure too soon. Real Madrid’s women’s team wasn’t a powerhouse, and she wanted to shield you from the weight of failure. That’s why you didn’t play in the Copa de la Reina final, where Real Madrid came agonizingly close to winning their first title, only to lose to Atletico de Madrid. You also sat out the matches against FC Barcelona, and honestly, you were grateful for it. You watched Barça evolve, seeing the names of players who came and went: Lieke Martens, Jenni Hermoso, Asisat Oshoala, Aitana, Patri, Graham, Pinà… and Alexia.

Since entering the world of women’s football, you’d studied Alexia closely. She was the epitome of perfection—a relentless winner with an insatiable hunger for success. Her passion for the game was unmatched, and it drove everything she did.

To your astonishment, you were called up for a few friendly matches ahead of the World Cup. It was your chance to prove how far you’d come. Your improved physique and growing understanding of the game shone through, and after a standout performance, you earned your spot on the World Cup roster.

Your inclusion raised eyebrows. You’d only played two matches with the National team and had limited experience with Real Madrid’s first team, mostly featuring in their youth categories. But you were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

During the first training session, you stuck to Misa’s side like glue. You’d already met Jenni and Laia during the friendly matches, and they’d been incredibly supportive. But Alexia was a different story. She arrived late, still recovering from a long-term injury, but she was ready for the World Cup.

The first time you saw her, it felt like witnessing a celestial being. Her bright pink hair framed her face, and her eyes seemed to light up the room. She was warm and approachable as she introduced herself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, glancing at her teammates with a smile.

Your cheeks burned red. Misa, standing beside you, bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She knew all about your crush on Alexia, and she wasn’t about to let you live it down.

Alexia was an absolute sweetheart, always going out of her way to help you. She became so invested in you that she couldn’t help the feelings that began to grow. The tournament ended with your victory over England, and you scored the most crucial goal of the match. Over time, you and Alexia grew so close that the thought of returning to your separate lives filled you both with anxiety. Fortunately, you had one last chance to spend time together—the trip to Ibiza—and you made the most of every moment.

Afterward, you returned to your routine: striving to improve at Real Madrid B, focusing on your studies, and catching glimpses of Alexia whenever your paths crossed during national team camps.

You watched FC Barcelona thrive, and a pang of envy crept in, wishing you could one day celebrate such victories with your own team.

As time passed, you turned twenty-two, sitting on the bench as your team suffered yet another defeat in El Clásico. What hurt the most was seeing Misa’s disappointment. Your body ached to step onto the pitch, but your mind held you back..

It wasn’t until Spain’s Supercopa final, with your team trailing by three goals and forty-five minutes still on the clock, that something inside you snapped. You didn’t know what came over you, but you stood up, driven by an unshakable determination. You practically begged your coach to let you on the pitch, to at least try to lessen the blow, even if it meant losing by just one goal.

Alexia watched as you prepared to step in, and her heart ached. She thrived on Real Madrid’s defeats, but the hatred she held for the team paled in comparison to the love she felt for you. Her mind was set on scoring, even if it was just once, but her heart wanted to pull you off the field. She wanted to humiliate Real Madrid, not you. To her, you were different—you always had been.

When you were subbed in, you delivered a stunning performance, scoring and assisting to help your team clinch their first title. It was a wild, unforgettable display, fueled by your desire to see Misa succeed. It was an unusual philosophy, but Misa was everything to you in football. Even as you wore the Real Madrid badge on your chest, right on top of the area of your heart, where Alexia belonged, Misa was the one who dominated your thoughts. You had stood by her side through every defeat, every heartbreak, every moment when the weight of the game seemed too heavy to bear. Each loss had carved a little piece out of you, not because you were the one on the field, but because you felt her pain as if it were your own. She was more than just your best friend—she was your closest friend.

But this time was different. This time, you weren’t just watching her fight—you were watching her soar. The cup gleamed in her hands, a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. The smile on her face wasn’t just one of victory; it was one of triumph over every doubt, every setback, every moment when the world had tried to tell her she wasn’t enough. And as you stood there, watching her bask in the glory of her hard-earned success, you felt a surge of pride so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes.

This was everything. This was the moment you had been waiting for, not for yourself, but for her. You had seen the sleepless nights, the endless training sessions, the quiet moments when she questioned if it was all worth it. And now, as she lifted the cup high, her laughter ringing out like music, you knew it was. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every ounce of pain had led her here, to this pinnacle of joy.

You caught sight of Alexia’s sad expression, and it weighed heavily on you. You moved closer, but she stopped you, forcing a small, fake smile and telling you to celebrate your victory and enjoy the moment.

In that moment, as she lost and you won, she felt like she had lost you too. She had lost herself in you, and now, in defeat, she was determined to find herself again. But rediscovering herself meant letting you go. She had to lose you to find who she was.

[novaursa]

Bless you for opening your requests 🙇‍♀️

Could I get one, maybe following on from The Valyrian Bride, where cregan and readers children get their dragons? Maybe they get eggs in their cots, or maybe they have to travel to dragonstone as one of the children bonds with a dragon that’s already grown and unbonded, and cregan is a bag on nerves having to watch them claim the dragon, but reader is the opposite, she is composed and reassures him that they are safe?

Thank you for everything you do 💖

Valyrian Bride (dragon eggs)

- Summary: Cregan was expecting a quiet day. But nothing is ever truly quiet with his dragon-blooded children.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is an only daughter of Rhaenyra.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: dragon's bath

- Previous part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess @ferakillia

Winter had tightened its grip on Winterfell, but the great hall was alive with warmth and noise, the fire in the massive hearth burning bright and high. Cregan Stark sat at the long table with his bannermen, their voices filling the room as they discussed the usual matters—supplies for the coming winter, the training of new recruits, and the ever-present question of the safety of the northern borders.

He listened with half an ear, his thoughts drifting occasionally to his wife and children. The boy of ten and the girl of barely eight, were spirited and curious, always finding new ways to test their parents’ patience and were more trouble together than a pack of wild direwolves.

Cregan took a sip of his ale, his gaze turning toward the fire where children had spent most of the day. They had been unusually quiet, which in his experience meant they were plotting something. The problem was, with those two, ‘something’ could mean anything from sneaking a wildling pup into the kennels to hiding the cook’s ladle in the godswood.

“Lord Stark,” called Arnolf, his bannerman and old friend, pulling Cregan’s attention back to the table. “You seem distracted. More than usual, I mean.”

Cregan gave him a wry smile. “Just wondering what those two are up to. It’s too quiet.”

Arnolf laughed, shaking his head. “They’re probably just practicing their swordplay or playing a game. You worry too much, Cregan. They’re only children.”

“They’re Valyrian children,” Cregan corrected dryly. “And I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a harmless Valyrian game.”

As if in response, a high-pitched scream rang out from the far end of the hall, followed by another, then two more. Cregan’s heart leapt into his throat as he shot to his feet, his chair scraping back across the stone floor. His bannermen did the same, hands going to their swords.

“Seven hells,” Cregan muttered, his stomach twisting. The sound wasn’t one of pain, but panic still gripped him. “What now?”

The answer came quickly enough. His children’s voices echoed through the hall, but they weren’t screams of terror—they were shouting and laughing, the kind of noise that only came from sheer, unbridled excitement. His heart still pounding, Cregan took off toward the hearth, his bannermen trailing behind him, their faces a mix of confusion and alarm.

As he rounded the corner, Cregan skidded to a halt, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

His children were kneeling on the stone floor near the hearth, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Between them, nestled in a thick pile of blankets and surrounded by a glowing ring of embers, were two dragon eggs—large, oval, and gleaming with a strange inner light. And right there, amidst the warmth of the fire and the delighted shrieks of his children, the eggs were cracking.

“Look, Papa!” his daughter cried, hair falling around her face as she pointed eagerly at the first egg. “They’re hatching!”

Cregan blinked, his mind trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. He’d known they had the eggs, of course—gifts from Vaetrix’s last clutch. They’d been family heirlooms more than anything, relics of their mother’s lineage, kept cool and dormant. He had assumed they would remain that way. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the children would try to… heat them up.

“What in the name of the Old Gods are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and exasperation. He took a step forward, waving a hand at the flickering flames that danced dangerously close to the precious cargo. “You—You put them in the fire?”

His son, crouched next to his sister, looked up at him, his face flushed with excitement. “We read about it in one of Maester Kennet’s books! Dragon eggs need heat to hatch. The hottest fire we could find was here in the great hall.”

“And now they’re coming out!” his daughter added, practically bouncing in place as she watched the egg wobble and crack.

Cregan glanced around, half expecting his wife to appear and explain that this was some sort of elaborate joke. But no, it was just him, his two children, and two dragon eggs about to hatch in the middle of Winterfell’s great hall.

The second egg shuddered, a thin crack running down its length. His son leaned in closer, eyes wide with awe, and for a moment, Cregan’s heart nearly stopped. “Careful, lad!” he barked, reaching out and pulling the boy back. “Those are dragons, not pets. They’re dangerous!”

“But they’re ours,” his daughter insisted, not taking her eyes off the eggs. “And they’ll be our dragons, won’t they, Papa? Just like Mama has Vaetrix.”

Cregan opened his mouth to argue, to tell them how dragons were wild, unpredictable, and far too dangerous to be playing around with, but before he could get the words out, the first egg cracked open completely.

A small, wet dragonling tumbled out onto the blankets, its wings flapping feebly as it let out a tiny, high-pitched screech. The creature was a deep, shimmering green, its scales flecked with gold, and its eyes—bright and curious—blinked up at them as it tried to shake itself free of the last bits of shell.

His daughter’s gasp of delight was echoed by her brother’s, and both of them immediately reached out, their hands hovering just above the hatchling as if afraid to touch.

“Look, Papa!” she whispered, her voice hushed with wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

Cregan stared at the tiny creature, his emotions a tangled mess of awe, terror, and something that felt suspiciously like pride. “Aye,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It is, but—”

The second egg gave a sharp crack, splitting open with a suddenness that made even Cregan jump. Another dragonling emerged, this one a dark, smoky blue, with wings that seemed almost translucent in the firelight. It stumbled forward, letting out a tiny roar that was more of a squeak, and promptly tripped over its own claws.

His son let out a whoop of joy, scooping the clumsy hatchling into his arms without a second thought. “Papa, did you see? They’re both here! We did it!”

Cregan rubbed a hand over his face, torn between laughing and banging his head against the nearest wall. “Yes, I see,” he said, his voice strained. “But do you have any idea what this means? Dragons, here, in Winterfell?”

“They’ll be safe here,” his daughter said firmly, as if she had already thought the whole thing through. “We’ll take care of them. They’re ours.”

Cregan looked at his children, each now holding a wriggling, squirming baby dragon, their faces shining with joy and excitement. He could see it in their eyes—that fierce, unyielding sense of responsibility and love that only children could have. For them, this wasn’t a mistake or a danger—it was a miracle. Their dragons had come to life, and they were ready to embrace them with open hearts.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, shaking his head even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. We’ll find a way to keep them. But you two—” he pointed a finger at each of them, his voice stern despite the warmth in his eyes, “—will have to take responsibility. Feeding, training, cleaning up after them. They’re not to be toys or playthings. Dragons are dangerous.”

“We promise, Papa!” they said in unison, their voices so earnest that Cregan almost believed them.

“And no more hatching dragon eggs in the hearth, understood?” he added, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Winterfell’s ever seen this much excitement in one day.”

His daughter giggled, stroking the tiny green dragon’s head with a gentleness that belied her usual rough-and-tumble nature. “No more hearth hatchings. We promise.”

Cregan looked at his children—his wild, wonderful, dragon-blooded children—and then at the two new lives they cradled in their arms. The absurdity of it all hit him suddenly, and he let out a low, incredulous laugh. Who would have thought? Two baby dragons, born not in the hot skies of Dragonstone, but in the icy heart of Winterfell.

“Come on, then,” he said, shaking his head as he turned back to his bemused bannermen. “Let’s see what your mother has to say about this.”

As they made their way across the hall, the dragons chirping and squeaking softly, Cregan couldn’t help but marvel at the scene. Only his children could turn a quiet day into something this… extraordinary.

And though he’d never admit it out loud, a part of him was secretly thrilled. There was never a dull moment with dragons in the family, after all.

[sterredem]

Secrets

Logan sargeant x reader

Face claim Olivia Rodrigo

Word count Long

Warning Lando being annoying, not proofread (so maybe some spelling mistakes), Me not really knowing how to describe racing IN a race.

Summary Everyone thinks Logan is single, he isn’t. They also think he is a bad driver. He proves both of them wrong.

A/N this was kind of based of the Canada GP, but I changed a few things about it (you will notice) to fit the plot. ……….I wrote the last part in the middle of the night, so it either won’t make sense, or there will be a lot of spelling mistakes (I think the last one). But I don’t really have time to edit it and ehm I do it will be next week so you will have to do with this. ……………Also one of my favs so far written…

Don’t forget to Reblog comment and give feedback! It helps a lot!🫶❤️

Instagram

Liked by Taylorswift and 4.753.974 others

Yourusername Thank you so much US so far it has been an amazing tour!

View all 5.836 comments

Taylorswift So proud of you! Liked by author

User1 MOTHER

User2 So happy I got to see you!

User3 I love you!

User4 The pop princess is back!

User5 So hot!

User6 Best tour ever!

User7 anyone see Logan in the likes?!

User8 OMG YES! I SAW THE SAME THING!

User9 it’s probably because she is a famous American singer. And he followed her even before he got into f1 so he could just be a fan and if you look back he has liked almost all posts

User10 did you stalk?? How do you know?!

User9 I know stuff…

User10 ????!!!!!

User11 Mother!!

User12 💜💜

User13 So gorgeous!🫶

|———————————<3—————————————|

Real life

Being in a relationship with someone can be beautiful. And Y/n would know. The only thing that is annoying about it is when you have to keep it secret. And not that they HAVE to keep it secret, they just do. And if you are asking who is ‘they’ well it’s Logan and Y/n.

They love each other, they really do. But with her being a famous singer and him being a driver that is… struggling. So at the beginning of their relationship they decided to keep it a secret. Of course not from everyone, their family knew, Y/n team, Logan’s team (only a selected few by both). But the world, the fans? They had no clues. They didn’t even know they had partners. But they liked it like this. And they were going to continue like this for a long time… or that was the plan.

And that was all ruined when someone (Logan) couldn’t help but like the others post. So people begin speculating.

And at first they just said it was a celebrity crush, which they then kept rolling with. So the world and the other drivers al thought that Logan Hunter Sargeant had a crush on Y/n Y/l/n. And that was fine…

It was until the teasing comments from both the fans, media and the drivers begin. Every time Logan or someone plays Y/n’s music people looked at him with a teasing look or made comments about her. Even on the driver parades more of the drivers begin talking to him, but only to tease him about his ‘celebrity crush’ even some driver that he had barely spoken to before.

And the world thought that that was just it; Logan who had a crush on someone way out of his league and Y/n who existed not knowing who Logan was.

So when one day there was announced that there will be a special guest at Williams of all teams well that was a surprise to all. The team hadn’t revealed jet who it was, they wanted to keep it quit until the race day. But the guest was in the paddock the whole weekend, just a bit more hidden.

And that is how Y/n ended up in the back of the Williams garage while her boyfriend was racing, it was FP2 at the moment, so one of the first days.

But she wasn���t alone, Lilly (Alex’s girlfriend) was also there with her, keeping her company while their boyfriends were doing their job. And she really enjoyed her company, which wasn’t really a surprise. Lilly was a nice girl, and she was also a fan which was funny with how she reacted to the news that Logan was dating Y/n (which Alex told Logan and Logan told Y/n).

So now the two of them where talking in the back of the garage and looking at the screens to see how the boys where doing.

Alex was currently racing and Logan got to race in FP1, and it was going good (well how good it can be for William that is). Logan was also not with the girls but he was looking at all the data from the practise and the sim races he did before the weekend.

So after FP3 was done and Alex and Logan finished up the team meeting to talk about the practices Logan returned to the back to search for Y/n and so that they could go home. When he spotted her he immediately had a smile on his face and walked towards her.

“Hey how was it?” He asked his girlfriend when he arrived. He smiled and did a kind of wave to Lilly and she took the hint and began walking to Alex.

“It was great. I loved seeing you out on the track, in real life.” She said looking up at him and hugging him.

“Hmmm, I’m glad.” Logan said while kissing the top of her head. “Do you want to go back to the hotel? I’m all done here and maybe it’s good to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Yeah that smart. Do you. We’d to grab anything from your drivers room?” She asked while looking up at him.

“Yeah a few things. You coming with me?” He asked while looking at the girl. She nodded and they both walked towards his room to grab the stuff. After they had everything they stayed inside for a bit longer to figure out how she can sneak out of the paddock without being seen.

They came up with the plan of them splitting up, Logan going through the usual exit, so that people can still see him and take pictures and that he can see fans, and Y/n going through a more hidden and exit with almost none to no one there so she can have a more secret exit and that she won’t be spotted.

So they separated with a kiss and they both went to their respective exits. Once they were both out of the paddock Logan went to his car and took a detour to pick Y/n up. Once they were both in the car they went back to the hotel.

When they opened the door to their room they decided to just orde some room service and then go to bed. While Logan was deciding what to order Y/n began to get ready for bed. After they had both decided what they wanted they ordered it and got ready while waiting.

When it arrived they set on a movie they could watch and ate while watching. After they hatched eaten they decided to talk about what they would do the next day.

“I think I will just stay here tomorrow.” Y/n said while putting their dirty dishes away.

“Okay. That’s fine. Why?” Logan asks leaning against the table.

“Well it Will be quit busy with qualifying so I thought it would be smart that I could just stay at the hotel and watch here. If that okay with you.” The girl asked while looking at her boyfriend.

“Yeah of course.” Logan said while grabbing his girlfriend’s hand. “If that what you want then that’s fine with me.” He said.

While they talked they asked towords their bedroom and did their night routine.

“Alright. So I will watch here tomorrow and then I will be in the graag for the race.” She said while looking at him. “Do you want to sleep? Get some rest for tomorrow.” She asked.

“Yeah that’s smart. Come cuddle with me.” He said while opening his arms so that she could climb in.

“Okay. But sleep. Please.” She said looking at her boyfriend.

“Of course love.” He said while they laid comfortable in bed. They closed their eyes and drifted to sleep.

|———————————<3—————————————|

The next day Logan chose to let Y/n sleep. He knew she as still tired from her shows so he decited to let her sleep and write a note. He set an alarm on her phone so that she could wake up on time and then left with the nite lying on the kitchen counter.

Once he arrived at the garage in the paddock Lily immediately came up to him asking where Y/n was. He explained it.

Once they were done with going over the strategy for qualifying he walked out to do a quick last minute track walk. Once he was walking a few people came up to him.

“Hey man how are you?” That was Lando. Logan didn’t know why he was talking to him, they never talked. Oscar also wasn’t there so that was extra weird, because every time Lando or another driver talked to him Alex or Oscar where with him. It was sad, for sure, but it was the reality that Logan was living. And he kind of liked it. It was quite and he had a lot of time to himself, and that way it was easier to hide his relationship with you.

“I’m good. You?” He asked trying to be polite and not sound confused. Because that is what he was, confused. Why was Lando talking to him? And not only Lando, no, Carlos and Charles were also there. Because where Lando goes, Carlos goes and where valies goes, Charles goes. That is how it works.

“Yeah we’re fine.” Lando replied for him and the other drivers. “So I have a question.” Lando said getting straight to the point.

“What is it?” Logan asked. He was still confused with all this, but it was undoubtedly going to make more sense once he knew the question.

“I heard you’re single?” Lando said. And before Logan could reply Lando had already continue talking. “Well I have this friend, she’s American . And she said that you’re cute, so I offered to set you up. So you have a date tomorrow evening.” Lando said, getting straight to the point again. Behind him were Carlos and Charles looking amused, wanting to know how this was going to turn out.

Now it made sense to Logan. He wanted something from him. Logan thought about his wander for a bit, should he say he had a girlfriend? Would they believe him? He knows he isn’t going on that date, no way. Y/n would like it. But she also wouldn’t like if he jay said that they were dating. But he didn’t have to say that it was her… so he came up with the plan.

“No thank you.” He said and then walked away. Yeah… that was the master plan. Just say no and walk away. Of course it didn’t go as he had wished, because Lando immediately followed, Carlos and Charles trailing slowly behing. Wearing amused smiles with how this was going.

“Wait what? I thought you want someone? Who wants to be single? She’s a really nice girl, very cute too. You two would get along.” Lando ranted while quickly catching up with him. Logan didn’t to look as amused as the other boys.

“Sound like you want het more.” Lando said back to Lando. He tried look for anyone else in the track so that he could escape from this conversation.

“No. I havo a girlfriend. Why don’t you want to go?” Lando said accidentally exposing himself, he ding notice. To busy with wondering why Logan didn’t want to go on a date with his friend.

“Who said I was single?” Logan asked again. Avoiding to sensed why he didn’t want to go on a date.

“Well everyone. The driver, mechanic, even some of your team, and basically everyone on the internet.” Lando said revealing his sources.

“Well you believe them? You know how many tongues there are. And there is a lot of gossip going around track. And as you said, people also think you are single. So why also me?” Logan said making Lando and the other 2 think. He took that time to quickly walk away. He finished his walk and then immediately returned to the garage, wanting to see if Y/n was awake and had messaged him.

She did. She said goodmoring and good luck. Once Logan read that he decited to train some more and then get ready for qualifying.

After qualifying Y/n had messaged Logan. He got p13! It wasn’t the best but it was okay.

Logan did the post qualifying interviews and then a last debrief if the day. He then returned to his car, not after taking pictures with fans and signing a few things. He saw some people with his stuff on, he always got happy about that. It showed him that he was important, that people liked him, and even tough he had a change of losing his seat, that he had made it into f1 and that people saw him as a good driver. He took a quick picture to show it to Y/n when he got back. She would be proud. She always is.

And before he got the change to step in his car someone called out his name. The someone being Lando. He was there, again. Logan already had a suspicion about what it was going to be, but he had hope that the McLaren driver just came there for a friendly chat. That wasn’t the case.

“Jo Logan. Can you tell me if you want to go on that date or not? And why not? Cause the girl keeps asking about it and I want her to know.” Lando asked apr och ing him. And with that, all his hoped have disappeared, and instead there came the wanting to go home to his girlfriend.

“As I already said. No I don’t want to go. And I don’t want to go because I am already in a really happy relationship. So if you can just stop with asking me and just let me return to my girlfriend, then I would greatly appreciate that.” Logan said kind of snappy. He opened his car door and sat down. He looked at Lando one time, who was looking quite shocked, and then smalend the door shut, he was going to regret that later. He started the car and drove away to his hotel to his girlfriend.

Once he got back he immediately told her everything that had happened that day. Keeping the part about Lando and his question for last so that she could react to that (she always waited for him to stop with his story before talking. He did the same, that was the way their relationship worked). To say she was shocked was understandable. But surprisingly she wasn’t jealous (despite what some of her songs say), no, she was more angry. Not at Logan, but at Lando. For only talking to her boyfriend about that. He always felt bad that no one on the grid besides Oscar and Alex talks to him (the other sometimes talking to him but that beung ‘forced’ by the other two boys or their teams) and then now talking only for this.

After he got all that of of his chest and Y/n had helped him and talked to him Logan wanted to talk about something else. “What if we just hard launch tomorrow?” He asks a bit nervous.

Y/n laughed a bit at how nerveus he is. It’s like their first date all over. “Yeah, if that’s what you want. But I don’t only want it to be because you want to prove something. I want it to be because you want it. Because I’m totally okay with it.” She says.

“Okay. Then that’s the plan. Would you want to walk with me in the paddock? Or do you want to do it after the race?” Logan asked wanting you to come up with a plan.

“Maybe after? I think it would be fun to see people try and figure out why I am Williams.” She said.

“Aright. That’s good.” Logan said.

After those conversations they got to bed early so that they were well rested the next day.

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The next day Y/n and Logan woke up and got ready for the day (with Y/n helping Logan pick out his clothes (the girlfriend effect is real)). Logan took his car and Y/n took another with her driver driving her (that so they could drive back to the hotel together).

They walked in separately, y/b also going a bit later. Once she entered the paddock a lot of people want crazy, she was quite well know after all, a lot of people where wondering why she was there, where was she staying, and why was it not announces

She walked around while people took pictures and a few fans walked towards her asking for pictures and autographs.

What she also noticed is that quite allot of drivers also looked at her. She heard from Logan that a few of them liked her musics and where trying to get tickets for her show. He even said that some of them had a crush on her. But she didn’t expect it like this; them awkwardly looking at her just silently. She also saw some of them asking their team principal if she would stay with them, the answer being no.

While she took longer than initially thought walking to the garage, that being because of fans and reporters wanted her attention. And all the way of her walking to Williams people where filming and camera’s where on her.

When she entered, well let’s just say she saw the shock on some faces. But they had expected it.

The girl spent a almost half an hour almost unbothered (beside Logan annoying her, the same with Alex and Lily and some other people and guests at Williams). But then the chaos began. She walked out of the garage to get some food and then she was them; a few of the drivers where talking, more like gossiping. And when they saw her they immediately stopped. That’s when Lewis, who was is the group, walked up to her. They had met before so she expected him to come talk to her sometime.

“Hey Y/n. How are you? I didn’t know you would come.” He said trying to make some small talk while also trying to figure out why she was at Williams and not at a different… better… garage.

“Hey Lewis. Good to see you. I’m great, quite busy but it’s amazing. But yeah, I thought it would be fun to come see a race sometimes.” She said, she knew what he wanted to know, but she wanted him to ask directly instead of her just telling him.

“Yeah great. I heard the tour is going good?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s going amazing. I’m so proud of it. It really is a nee milestone in my career.” She said gappy to talk about her tour.

“Yeah, amazing. I saw some things of it. It looks really cool.” The 7 time world champion said.

“Yeah it is. If you want to go sometimes I could get you some tickets. Just say when and where.” She said. Hoping that he would take her op on the offer. She had always been an f1 fan, so it would be amazing is her and her boyfriends hero would like to go to her tour.

“Yeah, that would be amazing. I will message you sometime. I have some friends who really want to see you but didn’t get tickets.” He said. He still wanted to know why Williams?

“Great. I hope you will enjoy it. So are you ready for the race?” The singer responded.

“Oh yeah. I’m ready to see how it’s going to go. Hopefully get some points and maybe even podium.” Lewis said.

“Oh yeah, that would be great.” The girl said.

“So… Why are you at Williams?” Lewis asked. Finally, he got to the long awated question. He still tried to be respectful as he said it.

“Well. I guess I just wanted to be in a garage of a team like. And I suppose that is Williams.” She said. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t believe her. Almost nobody was a Williams fan, and maybe there were, but not a A-list celebrity.

“Alright. I can respect that.” He said. The conversation was starting to get awkward. So Y/n decided to end the torture.

“I’m glad. Well I guess I have to go. It was great to speek with you gain, let me know about those tickets.” She said. While they said their last goodbyes she walked back into the garage, she knew she wasn’t going to get her food, so she just gave up. She turned around one last time in the garage to see where Lewis was. He was retelling the conversation to the other curious drivers. Of course he was. F1 is basically gossip on weeks. So after looking for a bit longer she walked farther innige garens towards Logan’s driving room to tell him all about her conversation. She liked gossip as well.

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The race was well… surprising… some might say.

It began … okay. But it was the end that shocked everyone.

In the race both Ferraris and one of the Williams DNF’d. Just not the one you might expect.

Because thanks to his… great, qualifying. Logan could go further and further until he was in the top 5.

That was when it got scary. The car had a few problems but that would be something to discuss later. Logan took a quick pitstop while safety car was out, and with that he made it to P3.

He stayed there for a long time. Until…

In the last few laps he had a battle with Lando. They got back and forth for the 2bd place. Both teams being quite … surprised. McLaren didnt expect for Williams, well Logan, to be such a thread. And Williams didn’t expect for Logan to do such a great job and actually get an interesting race out of the shit car they made.

So when at the last lap one of the drivers finally gained some speed and put a few millie seconds between them the team was well… releaved.

There he was, Logan Sargeant. Formula 1 driver for Williams, second year, his first ever podium. And that being second?!

Well let’s just say he let a few tears slip. He felt a lot of emotions; happiness, love, adrenaline and acceptance. He heard the crowd cheating, his team running to congratulate him. You coming to congratulate him. He felt like he was finally accepted as an legitimate Formula 1 driver, not just someone that was in the sport but wasn’t talented. He knew what he had to do.

So he ran to his team and immediately searched fir you. There you where; at the from at the barrier with the team around you. He walked- more like rubbed- towards you and looked at you for a second. Almost like asking permission. You nodded. He kissed you. In front of everyone. This would be your hard launch, after him finishing P2 at the Canadian Grand Prix.

You two heard cameras going wild. You pulled apart and he was immediately greeted by his team congratulating him. While he was doing that you looked at the other drivers. They where shocked. Lando looked like he had seen a ghost. So he did have a girlfriend, and that was you?! He couldn’t believe it. A few of the others where just shocked because 1. They didn’t know Logan was seeing someone. And 2. HOW DID HE PULL YOU?!?!

You just ignored it and looked at your boyfriend. After he was done with his team he began the interview and then the cool-down room. With both Max and Lando congratulating him on his great driving skills.

After that they did the podium ceremony, with the Dutch national anthem playing. When they did the champagne spraying both of tej other drivers sprayed on him before spraying their teams.

After the podium he interviews and then he did a team debrief. When he was down he same to his drivers room. He said a quick help to his girlfriend before talking a quick shower to wash the champagne off.

Once he was clothed again they walked towards his car, hand in hand. They where reveals to the world so they could do that now. They drove back to the hotel for a quick fresh up befriended going to a club Max invited them to to celebrate the win. After partying for a bit they returned to the hotel and talked some more before going to sleep.

They had doen it, they had followed their dreams. Y/n was a world famous sing and songwriter and was touring her newest album. And Logan, he was a Formula 1 driver. Finally with a podium. And while he would lose his Williams seat for the next year, he gained a new one. Because Mercedes got ahold of his data and wanted him. So they got him a good car and he won, more and more and more and more and, well you get it now. He even won 2 championships.

And Y/n eventually got a level of fame no one could even think of (think of Taylor swift level). They got married and had a family that would leave a legacy that would go on forever. The Sargeant-L/n family was a family of all talented people. From F1 drivers, to singers, to poets, to footballers. They would forever be known as one of the greatest families. All because of Logan and Y/n.

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Yourusername Everyone meet my boyfriend! This is @Logan_Sargeant; a Formula 1 driver, a photographer, a professional boyfriend and someone I help style (the girlfriend effect is real guys!). Be nice to him be just got his first podium and a new contract!

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Logan_Sargeant How… nice of you ??

Yourusername Yes!

User1 I love them already😭

User2 can we just talk about the kiss?!?! It was INSANE!

User3 this was NOT on my 2034 bingo card.

User4 what is it with pop singers dating sport men all if a sudden?! First Taylor and Travis, then Sabrina and Barry (he’s a boxer), and now Y/n and Logan?!?!

User5 anyone noticed how Logan suddenly passed 5 million followers on insta and the whole grid is following him?!

User6 OMG YES! I notices this too! It is actually kind of sad if you think about it…

User7 Cutsey couple ever!

User8 The outfits always eat! So happy we now get to see more paddock outfits!

User9 Y/n is a WAG! I repeat Y/n is a WAG! Everyone evacuate! The hate will come soon!

User10 gold digger

User9 ?!?!?!?!⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

User11 I need this

User12 We need a Logangpt and have that just be all the pictures he takes of Y/n

User13 I see the boyfriend effect. It is THERE

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