#Google sheets Masterlist

[i-did-not-mean-to]

TRSB 2023

Dear people, after having dropped the ball in order to finish many many many fics...I've finally finished the TRSB Masterlist.

Is it pretty? No...

But does it have ALL the tags, fully searchable, as many original art links (GO REBLOG THE ART!!!!) as I could unearth, and all my heartblood?

Yes, it does.

If there are still mistakes and typos, please let me know...

This was a community service by IDNMT

[shoreline-system]

babygirl trying to do sys admin with this many alters is a special kind of hell I'm telling you now

[friendlyneighborhoodshark]

"How to Life" Masterlist

Cleaning and Tidying

Make your bed in the morning. It takes seconds, and it's worth it.

Reset to zero each morning.

Use the UFYH 20/10 system for clearing your shit.

Have a 'drop-zone' box where you dump anything and everything. At the beginning/end of the day, clear it out and put that shit away.

Automate your chores. Have a cleaning schedule and assign 15mins daily to do whatever cleaning tasks are set for that day. Set a timer and do it once the timer is up, finish the task you're on and leave it for the day.

Fold your clothes straight out of the tumble dryer (if you use one), whilst they're still warm. This minimises creases and eliminates the need for ironing.

Clean your footwear regularly and you'll feel like a champ.

Organisation and Productivity

Learn from Eisenhower's Importance/Urgency matrix.

Try out the two-minute rule and the Pomodoro technique.

Use. A. Planner. (Or Google Calendar, if that's more your thing.)

Try bullet journalling.

Keep a notebook/journal/commonplace book to dump your brain contents in on the regular.

Set morning alarms at two-minute intervals rather than five, and stick your alarm on the other side of the room. It's brutal, but it works.

Set three main goals each day, with one of them being your #1 priority. Don't overload your to-do list or you'll hit overload paralysis and procrastinate.

If you're in a slump, however, don't be afraid to put things like "shower" on your to do list - that may be a big enough goal in itself, and that's okay.

Have a physical inbox - a tray, a folder, whatever. If you get a piece of paper, stick it in there and sort through it at the end of the week.

Consider utilising the GTD System, or a variation of it.

Try timeboxing.

Have a morning routine, and guard that quiet time ferociously.

Have a folder for all your important documents and letters, organised by topic (e.g. medical, bank, university, work, identification). At the front of this folder, have a sheet of paper with all the key information written on it, such as your GP's details, your passport details, driving licence details, bank account number, insurance number(s), and so on.

Schedule working time and down time alike, in the balance that works for you.

Money

Have. A. God. Damn. Budget.

Use a money tracker like toshl, mint, or splitwise. Enter all expenses asap! (You will forget, otherwise.)

Have a 'money date' each week, where you sort through your finances from the past seven days and then add it to a spreadsheet. This will help you identify your spending patterns and whether your budget is actually working or not.

Pack your own frickin' lunch like a grown-up and stop buying so many takeaway coffees. Keep snacks in your bag.

Food and Cooking

Know how to cook the basics: a starch, a protein, a vegetable, and a sauce.

Simple, one-pot meals ("a grain, a green, and a bean") are a godsend.

Batch cook and freeze. Make your own 'microwave meals'.

Buy dried goods to save money - rice and beans are a pittance.

Consider Meatless Mondays; it's healthier, cheaper, and more environmentally friendly.

Learn which fruits and vegetables are cheapest at your store, and build a standard weekly menu around those. (Also remember that frozen vegetables are cheap and healthy.)

Learn seasoning combinations. Different seasoning, even with the exact same ingredients, can make a dish seem completely new.

Misc

Have a stock email-writing format.

Want to start running, but find it boring? Try Zombies, Run!.

Keep a goddamn first aid kit and learn how to use it.

Update your CV regularly.

Keep a selection of stamps and standard envelopes for unexpected posting needs. (It happens more regularly than you would think!)

[propertyofwicked]

ONE - LN

summary: the quadrant team find themselves in a hotel for the night, but there's just one issue - there's only one bed left.

warnings: none, just fluff ig

a/n: this is so short and i kinda really hate it im so sorry - i think this was requested but i cant find it in my inbox :(

masterlist the playlist

y/n had been working with the quadrant team for a while now, helping out with filming and editing their videos. it was a dream job, honestly, getting to travel around and hang out with friends, even if it meant dealing with a few chaotic moments here and there.

they were on location, ready to shoot some new content for an upcoming video. however, when they arrived at the small hotel only to find that there were only three rooms available for the night, chaos ensued as they tried to figure out the sleeping arrangements. three bedrooms, six beds, six people.

“lando snores - absolutely not,” max called out, grabbing niran quickly.

“y/n wakes up at 6am - absolutely not,” ria followed, grabbing araav too, leaving y/n and lando stood quietly next to each other, assigned to a room despite not getting a word in edgeways.

“it’s a good thing i’m a heavy sleeper,” y/n sighed, looking up at lando who smiled at her softly.

“it’s a good thing i don’t mind waking up early,” lando replied, grabbing her camera bag before leading the two of them to their room. y/n fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the door quickly.

she opened the door and froze, lando walking straight into her back, not expecting the sudden stop. there, in the middle of the room, was a single double bed. y/n turned back to lando, who was standing behind her with their bags.

“um, lando, we have a problem,” y/n said, stepping aside so he could see.

lando peered into the room and his eyes widened. “oh, great,” he muttered. “one bed.”

“yeah,” y/n said, rubbing the back of her neck, trying not to be saddened by his upset at the situation, “we’ll figure something out.”

“i’ll take the floor. it’s fine,” lando sighed.

“no, you won’t,” y/n shot back. “i’ll take the floor. you need a good night’s sleep for filming tomorrow.”

“so do you,” lando argued. “we can’t have you exhausted either.”

“no, i’ll take the floor,” y/n shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

“y/n, don’t be ridiculous. i’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“well, i’m not letting you sleep on the floor either,” y/n countered, voice firm.

the others watched the back-and-forth with amused expressions, until max finally stepped in, appearing suddenly in the open door.

“you two are adults. just share the bed. it’s not a big deal.”

lando and y/n exchanged hesitant glances. they had been friends for years, sure, but sharing a bed felt... different. still, they both nodded, realising it was the most logical solution.

“fine,” y/n said, a touch reluctantly, “we can share the bed.”

as they got ready for bed, both of them were internally stressing. as y/n stood in the bathroom brushing her teeth, she couldn’t stop thinking about how close they’d be, especially when the mirror gave her the perfect view of lando laying on the bed, arm behind his head as he scrolled his phone. lando was trying to ignore the feeling in his stomach at the thought of lying next to y/n all night, one step away from googling alternatives to a cold shower. still, she climbed into the bed, each of them staying rigidly on their respective sides, trying to give each other as much space as possible - y/n half tempted to set up a pillow between the two to add some distance.

time passed and y/n found it impossible to fall asleep in the unfamiliar bed. she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, and with each turn, the sheets rustled loudly in the otherwise silent room. every few minutes, she let out a frustrated sigh, clearly unable to settle.

lando, who was on the verge of falling asleep, noticed y/n’s restless movements. he heard her get up and walk to the bathroom, the sound of the door closing quietly behind them. after a few minutes, y/n returned and climbed back into bed, but the tossing and turning continued.

another sigh escaped y/n, and lando, though exhausted, turned over to face her.

“you okay?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“yeah, i just... struggle to sleep in unfamiliar beds,” y/n admitted quietly.

lando sighed, his exhaustion outweighing his nervousness.

“c’mere,” he sighed, exhaustion outweighing his logic as he reached out, gently pulling y/n into his arms.

y/n’s heart raced, her body momentarily freezing up at the sudden contact but she relaxed into lando’s embrace as his hands settled on her hip, fingers extending along her skin. surprisingly, it did help. being close to him, feeling his warmth, was comforting.

as y/n’s breathing evened out, lando assumed she had finally fallen asleep, feeling a mix of relief and adoration for the woman that lay in his arms. he hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding. then, with a gentle, almost hesitant movement, he pressed a soft kiss to y/n’s head.

“good night,” he whispered, his voice tender.

“hmm night,” she mumbled back, barely conscious to recognise what was going on around her. it was better not to dwell.

[nimata-beroya]

Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close 🤏 to the hyperlinks limit on this thing 😆]

Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.

PLACES / TIME

Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg

Map of the Galaxy

List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]

Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]

Planetary System Generator [Donjon]

Tatooine Location References [*]

Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]

Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars

Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)

Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]

Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]

Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]

Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)

TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix

Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum

Partisans' attack on Onderon

Siege of Lasan

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

General

Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]

Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood

Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]

Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]

MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]

The character creator

Droid Name Generator

Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr

Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli

Jedi

Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]

Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest

Mandalorians

Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator

Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]

Clones

Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)

Clone Creator [MandoCreator]

Clone Picrew

Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu

GAR structure summary by @intermundia

The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]

Clone Trooper Lore [*] [Ranks, Culture, Training, Organization, etc.]

Clones and Kamino [*]

The Bad Batch Characters Concept Art shared by @shadowthestoryteller

MISCELLANEOUS

Star Wars Character Age Comparison Chart by @the-yearning-astronaut

Tusken Raiders lore by @snarwor

Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)

Materials in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Star Wars Fashion [*]

Leisure, Art, Musical Instruments, Ethnography [*]

Political and Criminal Organizations in the GFFA [**]

Financial reference about credits by @thecoffeelorian

List of TCW Opening Quotes

Transcripts of all the TCW episodes shared by @book-of-baba-fett

Star Wars Crawl Creator [not exactly writing-related, but just for fun]

HEALTH AND MEDICINE

Canon Medical Lore [*]

Real World reference for Field organizational structure for corpsman (medics) [*]

Kaliida Shoals Medical Center (Republic Haven-class medical station) shared by @clonewarsarchives

GAR Battalion Aid Station [*]

GAR Clone Medic Q/A [*]

More combat medicine, shipboard medicine, veteran issues, and military culture [*]

SHIPS AND VEHICLES

Ship Generator 3D

Ship Name Generator

All Terrain Tactical Enforcer (AT-TE) shared by @stairset

Republic Vessels Reference [*]

Low Altitude Assault Transport/Infantry (LAAT/i) [*]

List of GAR Flagships in the Clone Wars by @meandmyechoes

Layout of the Havoc Marauder

Dimensions of various ships from the Clone Wars [**]

FOOD AND DRINKS

Star Wars Menu Generator

In-Universe Alcoholic beverages

Canon Cocktails (recipes) [*]

Another In-Universe Drinks list shared by @systemic-dreams

Teas in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Foodstuff [*]

Canon Star Wars Holiday Recipes [*]

Trask Chowder Recipe (from The Mandalorian) [*]

LANGUAGES; PHRASES AND SLANG; VOCABULARY

Languages of the Galaxy [*]

Script of different languages in the GFFA by @lucif-hare-blog

In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]

List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]

List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]

Talk Like a Clone Trooper shared by @archeo-starwars

Aurebesh Translator [Aurebesh.org]

Learning Aurebesh Tools [Aurebesh.org] Reading - Writing.

Mando'a Database [Mando.org]

Mando'a Transcripticon [MandoCreator] (Create your own text in the Mando'a script.)

@project-shereshoy (Blog that collects and posts sources for Mando'a from all over the internet.)

Mando’a Categorized Spreadsheet

Learning Mando'a Tools [MandoCreator] Reading - Writing.

Setting Thesaurus Entry: Spaceport [Writers helping writers]

Fan-created Conlangs

@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)

Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)

HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES

The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.

@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.

@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.

@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.

@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.

@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.

@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.

@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.

Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.

Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.

WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)

SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).

ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.

LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the word limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence (3 a day), even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.

Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.

Legend

[*] Shared by @fox-trot [**] Shared by @gffa [***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.

[ficsforgaza]

Hello, all! This coming October, we will be hosting a Kinktober event featuring 62 animanga/video game Character x Reader fics. This will serve as the master post for the event; we will be linking all relevant information here, including our Google Forms and Excel Sheets! Please follow the links below and read the subsequent information thoroughly to discover how you can participate!

˗ˏˋ ALL SLOTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN ˎˊ˗

↳ Kinktober Masterlist

Schedule for the Kinktober collab.

↳ Kinktober FAQs

Answers to the questions we frequently receive.

↳ #FFG Kinktober

Our catchall tag for the event.

↳ Kinktober Graphics

TBA in September.

↳ Other Creators Doing Kinktober Fics for Gaza

@persicipen Genshin Impact & Honkai Star Rail

@goxjo JJK, Windbreaker, MHA, Haikyuu, Genshin Impact

[arlertwhore]

pairing: caitlin clark x fem! reader

synopsis: a lil short thing ab gf caitlin fight-fucking you with her massive arm guns because NOBODY TALKS ABOUT HOW HOT THIS CONCEPT IS??? like pls read i promise you'll become a sick fuck for this shit like i am after.

word count: 471.

author note: two drafts in one night??😫 ovulation was HEAVY when i wrote this one guys ik y'all finna be able to tell LMAO... (i was acc just fantasizing on google docs bruh)

Caitlin loved to fuck you like she was fighting you, asserting her strength.

You were struggling between Caitlin's legs, back against her chest with her bicep flexing tightly beneath your chin, restricting your breath as she held you firmly against her, thrusting her fingers into you with punishing speed.

“Feel good, baby?” she whispered, watching as you desperately clawed at her big arm, moaning breathlessly. “Mmpph! Fuck, I-I can barely breathe, baby, you're so strong," you gasped, looking up at her and sinking your sharp nails into her muscled thighs, feeling a dizzying mix of both pain and pleasure. And in a barbaric attempt to soothe you, Caitlin begins pressing urgent kisses to your jaw and cheek, startling you when she suddenly sinks into your neck predatorily, drawing a cry from your lips before she eases you with gentle suckles.

The sting becomes sharper when she unlatches, smirking against your new hickey as she says, "Wastin' all that breath screamin' and fightin'—better shut you up, huh?" her breath warm against your bruised skin.

The squeeze of her grip becomes tighter and you groan, your hand reaching up to tug on her ponytail as she moves inside of you inhumanly faster, breathlessly urging, "Give me your cum, baby, fuck yeah," at how you begin to writhe, trying to squirm out of her hold, but her strong, muscular legs hunch over your parted ones, keeping you trapped there, forced to endure her wrath.

She's relentless, felt pounding around every inch of your body—toes and nipples tingling, the back of your clenched eyes turning white, mind swirling like you're hypnotized, and tears streaming down your face at how overwhelming she is.

But she's stressing her words like she's really trying to entrance you, firmly commanding, "Give me your cum, c'mon baby, cum for me, please, cum for me." And the squelch and jam of her fingers are embarrassingly audible, gliding smoothly, your juices flowing down her wrist and onto the sheets below you.

The fact you still haven’t tapped out like you usually do is thrilling to Caitlin, the brunette feeding off your pain, hazel eyes drinking you in as you spill out, earning her victory yet again. "Yeahhhh like that, baby, cum on my fingers like that," she encourages proudly—and fuck, you do. Your body convulses uncontrollably, your little legs shuddering beneath her strong ones as she relentlessly bruises your G-spot, moans and ragged breaths escaping you as you surrender and release for her.

Like a pinfall, she releases you instantly and snaps back into girlfriend mode, gently asking, "Are you okay?" while holding you upright by your stomach. You feel spent, and she thinks she’s tired you out for a brief moment before you surprise her by jumping her, pulling her down onto the bed. "My turn," you declare, parting her legs. MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: guys did i open your eyes to the vision of fight-fucking?? IF I DID PLS HOP ON MY TRAIN OF CONVINCING OTHER WRITERS TO DO THIS LMAO IM A VIEWER NOW I CAN SAY THAT

[itsonlydana]

Heyy I just wanted to ask if you could write something for Thranduil x gn!reader just something really light and fluffy maybe like how he takes care of reader what they do in a day and just spending time together doing romantic things and reader really just enjoying life without a care in the world... (Deine Fanfictions sind soooo super ❤️Ich stecke grade sowas von in der Prüfungsphase es ist echt Gold wert wenn man deine Stories zu Lesen hat🤌🏻 )

Spoil Me, Pamper Me, Love Me | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x gn!reader 👑

a cozy day spent with Thranduil

warnings/tags: none, fluff!

words: 1,4k

an: such a lovely request; had such a fun time writing it :) take the elvish terms of endearment with a grain of salt.. i literally googled them lmao but i made sure to use gender neutral names. [Ich wünsche dir viel Erfolg bei deinen Prüfungen, anon! Ich hatte meine im Februar und hoffe du kommst da gut durch <3]

+ masterlist + rules +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Being Thranduil's beloved comes with positives as well as negatives – he is a king, a leader after all, and most of his waking hours are dedicated to keeping up his political alliances.

This spanned from week-long travels to other kingdoms to meetings that could last long enough for most of the day to pass without seeing each other much.

Many of these affairs do not require personal attendance though and only expect Thranduil to correspond through letters; a convenience you both treasured admits all the dragging conferences at round tables that were more draining the less importance of the topic to be discussed – even a royal elitist like Thranduil, who took great pleasure in all things rich and extraordinary drew the line after twelve hours of staring at two types of wood to repair a bridge.

Paperwork days – as you called them – were the perfect opportunity for lazy mornings between you and Thranduil. Drowsily cuddling underneath silken sheets that caught the sunrise in their translucent fabric, shutting out the world for unhurried fooling around in each other's arms and with only your giggles and his huffed laughter carrying any indication you were awake at all.

Breakfast was served in your shared chambers and instead of getting up and dressed you took the small feast in bed, unbothered by the missed chit-chat and gossip that eating in the great hall brought forth for Thranduil's kisses are much sweeter than anything anyone could have done.

There is nothing the Elvenking wouldn't do for his significant other, including providing you with the ripest fruits to feed you only to lose himself in peppering kisses to your lips – chasing after the taste of the fruits that colored your lips red and pink.

"The sweetest," Thranduil mumbles, his lips moving from one upturned corner of your mouth over the bow of your lip to the other corner where he breathes another kiss into the crinkle of amusement that makes no effort of hiding across your whole face.

You are sprawled across the bed, still in an airy night robe that's pushed up to your thighs to leave room for Thranduil's hands to gently caress the skin.

The elf himself towers over you, the comfortable weight of his lean yet strong body pressing down on you as his hair falls over the both of you like a curtain of starlight. Your hands trail over his muscles as kisses the spot behind your ear that has you giggling and nudging your knee against his abdomen to push him away.

"Stop, my King–" you laughed, hands sprawled across his chest without any real strength behind them, "you know I can't stand this teasing!"

You feel the pull of his grin against your skin before you hear the rumble of his deep laugh. "I do, meleth e-guilen, I do," Thranduil says, and tipped his nose against yours, "but that makes it all the more tempting."

Your hands trail up to his shoulders and gather some of the light strands of hair, sweeping it over his back. His skin glows in the sun pouring through the window, thrumming under your touch, and with him draped over you, one warm leg between yours, the heat travels to you even if his broad back blocks out the golden light.

"Awful," you huff, "you are nothing but a dreadful lover, keeping me trapped here in bed." Like your hands on his chest, the words carry no harm behind them or any attempt to push him away from you.

If anything, you revel in the attention he peppers you with. The last weeks had dragged you apart and moments like this, where you had to think about nothing except for your lover's care toward you.

"Awful?" he repeats in a playful tone and makes a move to sit up. "Whatever did I do to deserve such harsh treatment?"

Instead, he quickly grabs you by your waist and before you can realize what's going on he has flipped you over, laughter bubbling up your lungs and spilling out while he falls back onto the mattress, pulling you with him and leaving you to topple over across him.

His fingers dig into your sides, holding you down onto him so you can't even escape the tickling that he dooms you with. "Awful, they say! I will show you dreadful, you minx."

Whenever you do make it out of bed eventually, hair all messed up by his hands, Thranduil insists on dressing you.

He treats you like you are made out of glass, warming up the milky creme in his hands before he massages it into your skin so that the chill doesn't bother you, and he sits behind you on the bed while he combs through your hair.

"Looks like thrush nested here," Thranduil chuckles. He barely evades the hand you swipe back at him as you snort indignantly. "Careful! You will scare the birds if you are not mindful of them"

The curse you throw at him instead has him gasping at the pure filth that leaves your mouth that, after hearing his reaction, curves into a smirk. "Get back to combing, Your Majesty. I do not have all day."

"Your word is my command, guren vell."

Thranduils lips kiss your neck, featherlight and then again, lingering. You sigh and let your head drop backward, falling to his shoulder, and blink up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes full of adoration.

His smile lights up a fire in your heart, the softness of it on marble features a reason to go to war just to see it again and for you to be the only recipient of this gentleness with which he wraps his arms around your middle, the hair comb long forgotten, that fuels the fire for all eternity.

On any other day, the duty to dress you would lay in the hands of your most trusted servants or your own, though nothing reached the level of wonderful that Thranduil made you feel right now, helping you to flowy robes.

For you, he even sinks to his knees, the only being alive that deserves this honor of the Elvenking kneeling in front of them, and you smile down at the crown in his hair, the silver circlet glittering just like his cerulean eyes in the midday sun, as he fixes your shoes for you but not without breathing more kisses on the inside of your calf which he carefully holds.

"Shall we walk through the gardens later?" Thranduils hand falls to your lower back on your way through the intricate floors of the underground palace, evoking a pleasant buzz in your stomach.

"We could go riding out," you muse, thinking back to the last time you and Thranduil had taken out the royal elk.

Thranduil steps closer, ignorant of the servants and elves rushing past you with lowered heads and bows, to nip at the curve of your pointed ear.

For everyone else, it looked like he had just kissed you, but his teeth grazed the delicate skin in a hidden manner.

That's how the public display of his utter devotion to you goes; loving kisses that – away from prying eyes – turn completely devoid of etiquette, as well as his hands that never seem to leave you, whether it's in the form of a simple pressure in your lower back or resting on your side to hold you close to him.

Thranduil did not need to put you on display for everyone to know you were his, the expression in his eyes told the story of a King completely in love in a way that didn't need flashy gems or luxuriant robes; not that those weren't gifts you regularly found yourself unpacking nevertheless.

"Whatever you wish for. My heart is your loyal servant," Thranduil vows, smiling at the bright-eyed expression you gift him at that.

The letters on his desk could wait for a day longer, he had all of eternity to manage his kingdom.

Thranduil spends the rest of the day tied to your side – or behind you on our royal moose, as you take him outside to the forest, Thranduils arms around your waist and his chin propped up on your head, as you let yourself fall into his chest. In these woods, with your beloved's sharp senses taking in all of your surroundings even while he busies himself with twirling the fabric of your robes between his fingers or drops kisses to your shoulder and neck, you are completely safe.

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[ace-turned-confused]

mould me for ruin

marcus acacius masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: marcus acacius x virgin f!reader summary: after years of watching general acacius, you long to wield a sword of your own — an opportunity arises for your dreams to come true, in more ways than one word count: 4,6k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / inexperienced & a virgin, probably historically inaccurate yippie!, unspecified juicy age gap, pet names, smut, loss of virginity, f masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, comeplay, praise kink, size difference, bit of corruption & innocence kink, some dacryphilia, dirty talk & possessive acacius, Armour Stays On, Skirt Stays On extra info: subligaculum = underwear, mamillare = breastband/bra — if this is wrong then yell at google, not me a/n: so i watched the trailer with my best friend, looked at her immediately and said “i need him to tackle me to the ground” and here we are. i couldn’t help myself. @morallyinept thank you Jett for encouraging me to write this and listening to my deranged rambling, love you so much my friend 🤍 not beta'd, live laugh love

You’ve watched him for years — defending his honour, moulding young boys into fearless soldiers, striding up the palace steps to stand before the emperor. His confidence never falters, and it’s astonishing how his men follow his constant orders, never complaining, never challenging him. He speaks, they listen — you would do the same.

You’ve always dreamed of what wearing armour like his would feel like — how it would weigh down your shoulders, how it would clunk and rattle as you walk, how the leather would flow around your legs. That’s all it’s ever been — a dream, a fantasy. You’ve found as of late that you’ve had other dreams, too.

General Marcus Acacius has always been something of a God to you, he could never do wrong in your eyes and you often thought of him at fleeting moments during your day’s duties. Now, you think of him at night, too, and you don’t know how to stop. Instead of wearing that armour yourself, you’ve started imagining how it would feel if someone else pressed it into your skin. In all of your dreams, it’s Acacius wearing that armour.

You’ve noticed it’s not just your mind that’s affected — you feel unbearably warm, a throbbing sensation between your legs that only intensifies if you ignore it. You used to squeeze your legs together to try and quell that feeling, soon finding that it turned into pleasure.

You’ve always been a curious girl — one night you pulled off your sheets and shoved your hand down to explore yourself, finding you were wet, and if you pressed your fingers into one specific spot for long enough, you felt euphoric. This happens most nights now, and you have to cover your mouth when it’s quiet to avoid waking someone up.

You wondered if anyone else experienced this too but have always been too scared to ask — sometimes you feel embarrassed just thinking about it.

Acacius would never dare to even look at you, for what would a man of his stature want with a girl like you, but there’s no harm in you continuing to look at him — lingering in the shadows during training hours, fixated on him during noble proceedings. You swear sometimes he stares directly at you in a crowd, eyes burning into you as he singles you out.

-

The sun is just beginning to set, Marcus’ final session of the day has concluded and the servants have come to harp to his every need. One brings cloth for his face, another a small cup filled with water for drinking. A young boy had nicked his arm during a one-on-one showcase, the blood now dried on his skin as bandaging is wrapped around his bicep. The boy looked terrified of what the consequences might be, but Marcus reassured him that no real harm was done.

His body aches as he longs for rest — he’s not quite as young and agile as he once was.

Trudging out of the arena, he notices you — it’s not the first time, either. He imagines you just have an inquisitive mind and are fascinated by the spectacle of physical combat, as most are — but you don’t seem engrossed by the pompous behaviour or extravagant events. It appears as though you live in hopes of being able to train, that you dream you could be the one in the arena. You step out of hiding and try to sneak off in the opposite direction.

“Something you are looking for, girl?”

You halt in your tracks, turning to face him with wide eyes. You don’t respond.

“Answer when you are questioned.”

“I did not intend to be a bother, General Acacius, I will be on my way, my apologies.”

“There is no need for an apology. I have seen you here before — on many occasions, in fact.” He steps towards you and you stand, unmoving. “Tell me, girl, why are you really here.”

Your eyes flicker around as you consider your answer, fingers twitching at your sides as you chew on your lip. Finally, you tell him, “I… simply enjoy watching. You are finely skilled, it is magnificent to witness. All of you, I do not watch you alone, of course.” Your voice wavers as you rush out your last sentence.

“Do you wish to be in the arena, yourself?”

“I could not.”

“I did not ask if you could or could not.”

Again, you don’t respond as your gaze lowers to focus on his chestplate, eyes tracing the twisting gold patterns. He considers how to get the truth from you, and his decision is undoubtedly something he shouldn’t entertain.

“Meet me at sundown tomorrow in the clearing by the lake, it is not too far a journey on foot. You have never been spotted here, so I imagine you will have no difficulty making it out there undetected.”

You sputter out a reply as he walks off, tripping over your words but don’t make any real effort to stop or counter him. Whether or not you show up tomorrow is ultimately your decision, and he will not hold it against you if you choose to remain in the shadows. He does hope you do join him, though, he hopes you might surprise him.

-

You’ve spent all day weighing up what to do. A few others noticed your mind was distant but you managed to keep their suspicions at bay. When the General caught you the night prior, you were certain you’d be in trouble but he was shockingly calm.

He stood right before you and for the first time, you could take in his features — you’ve only ever been able to admire him from afar. Grey streaks on his temples and spread along his jawline, steel gaze and curved nose, arms and shoulders even thicker and broader up close. You felt that low heat settle between your legs as he questioned you — your dreams will be far more vivid from now on.

Acacius was right when he assumed you could make it out here unnoticed, you’ve mastered the art after years of sneaking around. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon when you hear rustling in the tree line behind you. You turn and see him break through the foliage, clad in his armour with a sword on either hip.

“You are here.” He runs his eyes over your whole body as he moves into the clearing. 

He walks out towards you and draws one sword, angling the blade to catch the light as he flips it around in his hand before presenting the grip to you. You furrow your brow in confusion.

“Unless you have one in your own possession, you will need a sword. I did not bring two for my own use.”

You take it in hand, clenching your fist repeatedly to get a feel for it, twirling the sword around — it’s easier to handle than you imagined, but still a solid weight.

“Tonight we will just begin with a few basic movements. You need to be in control of your weapon — if you fear it, that is when you will harm yourself.”

You spend hours focused on moving the sword around your body, watching Acacius’ demonstrations and then mirroring them. It’s not long before you can speed up your actions, remembering the patterns without having to be shown.

“I must admit, I am impressed. You are managing the blade well.” You glance up at him mid-performance — he rests a hand on his hip, his lips just starting to curl into a small smile. “Do you have a weapon of your own? I will not tell.”

“I have a small dagger I found long ago, I find peace in keeping it well-maintained.”

“You will carry it on your person at all times.”

“I should not.”

“This is not a case of should or should not, you will carry it. You may be secure near the arena and its surroundings, but this world is not always a safe one. Your dagger will do you more good in your hand than in your bedchamber.”

He walks towards the water's edge and looks out over the lake. Turning to face you, the moonlight bounces off the water and shines around him — he looks otherworldly. You realise now, as you stand under the twinkling stars, just how long the two of you have been out here.

“It is late, we should make our way back to town. I would like to continue your training, you have made a promising start — if you wish to learn more.”

“Thank you, General. I would like that. When will we next meet?”

“The night after tomorrow. You cannot practise during daylight on your own, and repetition is necessary for mastering an art like this. I will see you then.”

“May I ask…” You fidget with the sword in your hand. “How come we are so far out? Would it not be simpler to just train in the arena?”

“And think what would happen if someone were to see — a girl, sparring with a general in the arena after dark? You will be sent for exile, or worse.”

You hand the sword back to Acacius, eyes flitting up to his and breath hitching in your chest as his hand grips over yours.

“Goodnight, General.”

“Rest well, you will need it.”

He bids you goodnight, sheathing the sword back on his hip. You glance back at him as you retreat into the woods and he’s still watching you. You’re not sure how much sleep you’ll get, but you’ll definitely be well-rested.

-

It feels as though time had stopped altogether the past two days. Your duties dragged on for hours and you tossed in your sleep. You'd snuck off as usual to view the training sessions, but it isn’t enough anymore now that you’ve done it yourself and spent time alone with Acacius.

You ran his words over in your head, your dagger will do you more good in your hand than in your bedchamber, and he is right. What use is a weapon that you cannot use? You tried tucking it into your subligaculum, but it would dislodge as soon as your movements became vigorous. You took some spare cloth and tied it around your calf, managing to secure the dagger in a way that would remain in place without drawing your own blood in the process. You’re eager to show off your craftsmanship to him.

Acacius is nowhere to be seen when you arrive tonight, a gentle breeze dancing in the leaves and causing small ripples on the water’s surface, lamplight flickering in the distance across the lake. You can hear rustling behind you but pass it off as the wind or woodland creatures until you hear a significant snap and fling yourself around.

You’re met with Acacius, standing no more than an arm's length away — he slashes his sword towards you before you can greet him. You duck down to the ground, air displaced above your head as you look up at him in shock.

“Your reflexes are defensive… swift, but defensive.”

You rise slowly, unsure what his further plans are, chest heaving as you try to calm yourself. Staring at him, you see he’s focused on your hand, a small smirk on his face — following his eyes you realise you’d taken hold of your dagger, the blade shining as it catches the setting sun.

“I see you are carrying your blade, good girl.”

You feel hot. You didn’t know mere words could do to you what your dreams do, but you push it down and blame the adrenaline coursing through your body.

“You already know how to defend yourself, that much is clear. Here we are training to attack, to kill, if that is what will save you. Am I understood?”

“Yes, General.”

You nod and lift your tunic to your knee, still taking in deep breaths as you secure your dagger once more. What was the point of this exercise?

“How did you know I would not retaliate?”

“You would not have stopped if I had been a real threat. You know in your mind I would not harm you, just as I know you would not harm me. That is what makes a bond like this successful: trust.”

The night’s session goes smoothly after that. You do a few repeats of your basic movements and advance into cutting through the air with the blade, Acacius a safe distance away should you lose your grip. Just like your first night, the moon is high up in the night sky by the time you remember the outside world.

“You are making quick progress. How about we try sparring? No complex movements, just stick to what you know.”

So you do, and to your own amazement you do rather well — grip never loosening, you maintain your focus on Acacius the entire time as your blades clash together, dirt whirring up around your feet as you dance around each other. Neither of you back down on your final connection, Acacius grinning at you from behind both blades.

“Should you succeed in this, you shall soon stand high above the rest. Even if they do not know it.”

You both drop your hands, swords by your sides as he stays close. You’re silent as you stare at him blankly, confused by his statement.

“Do you know of any other soldier that has trained by moonlight, alone with me? Those men… those boys, they train because it is their duty. A boy is born to fight. You? Well, it would seem you were born to fight, too.” His voice is soft, his usual curt tone lost to the night breeze. There’s a fond smile on his face, eyes full of admiration as he speaks to you.

“I have often seen you lingering around the arena, I can always spot you in a crowd…” His tongue darts out as his gaze drops to your lips momentarily, before looking into your eyes again. “It is unusual for a girl like you to have such a keen interest in such a… physical activity.”

“Do you think our kind should keep to our traditions? That men should fight and women should care for them?”

“Would I be alone with you under the stars if I thought as much?”

With heat radiating from his body, it takes everything in you not to lean forward into him. His hand brushes over yours as he reaches for your sword, slipping it from your grip to sheath it.

“I think that is enough for tonight. We will keep to this schedule unless I have other commitments — a night of rest, a night of work. There are proceedings at the palace tomorrow, I expect you will be there to witness it?”

“I will, yes.”

Still close to you, he shifts his gaze between your eyes — if you were further apart you might miss the hint of a grin playing on his face.

“It will be quite the sight.” He winks at you and steps back, eyes still locked on yours. “Goodnight, my little rascal.”

You watch as he disappears through the rough, waiting until the only sounds you hear are those from the lapping water and rustling leaves. You lift your tunic hastily, pushing your hand into your subligaculum and down between your legs.

Your problem has only worsened since you properly met Acacius — you relieved yourself after your first training session and last night. Now, however, the wetness has spread to the inside of your thighs, too, the pulsing sensations more intense than usual. You press your fingers into your swollen bud, moving your hand side to side and it doesn’t take long before you come — stretching your free hand out to anchor yourself against a tree, it’s the fiercest feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You hope it won’t take long to fall asleep once you reach town.

-

It will be quite the sight — you’d tried to decipher what he meant but fell short. It seems that Acacius is rarely untruthful in his words — the events at the palace really were a sight. More specifically, he was a sight.

You had stood in the crowd, not expecting too much excitement, when a broad figure ascending the palace steps caught your eye. Billowing white cape and gold-plated cuffs, when he turned to face the crowds you realised it was him. His usual armour was replaced by, no doubt expensive, white and trimmed in gold, his skirt falling around and between his thick thighs as he climbed.

The grey in his hair and heavy arms accentuated by his new noble appearance, he stood tall and surveyed, hands clasped teasingly in front of his skirt. Just as he told you before, his eyes found you amongst everyone else and stayed on you the entire time, only breaking contact out of courtesy when others spoke with him.

You’ve never been too taken by proceedings like this, always far more keen on the soldiers’ training, but you wonder now if Acacius knows how he infiltrates your thoughts, knows the obscene way your body reacts to them. Why else would he have laid a claim like that?

It was all you could think about the entire day and night, and you think about it now, still, as you try sparring with him. It’s not as simple as the previous time, you find your movements are limited by your tunic, the fabric not as giving as before. You lower your sword and raise your spare hand to stop him, huffing in frustration.

“Is something the matter?”

“It— it is not your problem. I simply need to collect myself. Refocus.” You ready yourself with a defeated sigh but Acacius stands straight.

“Is something. The matter?”

“My tunic, it— I cannot move as I did the other night. As I said, it is not your problem.”

“You can remove it if that would help.”

You stand, bewildered at his comment.

“It is just you and I and the stars. You can remove your tunic if you will spar better without it.”

It seems he isn’t going to continue otherwise, so you place your sword on the ground. He doesn’t turn away from you, either, eyes fixed on you as you look to the floor and reach for your hem. Lifting it up your body and over your head, your skin feels blazing hot under his gaze as you stand nearly bare before him, your mamillare, subligaculum and the dagger secured on your calf your only coverings.

“You are quite the sight, even for a rascal.” You meet his eyes at his words, his gaze hungry. He finally resumes his stance and you retrieve your sword, preparing for the challenge.

The hunger in his eyes only grows stronger the longer you fight, his movements quickening as he advances and forces you backwards. He knocks the sword clean out of your grasp, the blade’s clanking muffled by the earth as he tackles you to the ground, pushing you beneath him and holding you in place.

“It seems your grip is not as secure as you believed…” He pauses as he rakes his eyes over you. “You were quite taken at the palace yesterday, I take it you enjoyed what you saw?”

“It was… quite exhilarating,” you sigh as he shifts, the edge of his breastplate catching on that spot your fingers find all too easily.

“What is wrong, rascal?” You gasp softly as he relaxes, resting almost his full weight on you. You squirm underneath him as you try lifting your hips in search of friction. You notice a change in his eyes and he ticks his jaw.

“Does that feel good?” He punctuates his words by grinding himself into you and holding himself there. “Do you touch yourself?”

“I do not know—” You knock your head back into the ground, pinching your eyes as he grinds his armour into you again. “I do not know what happens, but… it feels good.”

“Have you ever pushed a finger inside of yourself?”

You try turning to the side, his blunt words and forceful movements becoming too much for your uneducated mind.

“You can tell me.”

“I did not know I could do that. Is it not…” you look into his eyes again in search of reassurance, “Is it not shameful, what I do?”

He chuckles at your question, a hint of darkness still in his tone, “My sweet girl, there is nothing shameful about it. Many people pleasure themselves, and others — it is a wonderous thing.”

He lifts himself to push his hand under your subligaculum, fingers circling your bundle of nerves before dragging them through your folds. You feel a different kind of pressure as he repositions his fingers, pushing two inside of you and you cry out, his thick fingers slowly sliding further and further.

Leaning on his elbow, his free hand comes up to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch, heaving and gasping as you get used to the new sensation.

“When do you touch yourself?”

You make no response, your head spinning as that familiar heat that pools in your spine starts growing, only this time it’s far hotter. He grips your jaw, shaking you lightly to get your attention.

“You listen and answer to me. Do not forget that.”

“At night. I… at night.”

“And what makes you seek relief? I can feel how wet you are, my girl — what makes you wet?”

“You.” You moan to the stars as you clench around his fingers, heat coursing through your body as your legs stiffen. That night you came in this very same spot had been the best, but this easily tops it. He pulls his fingers from you as you open your eyes again, and suddenly you feel painfully empty.

“I make you wet?”

“Yes. I think of you when I touch myself. Sometimes I… sometimes I dream of you.”

He kneels back between your legs, manhandling you to push your discarded tunic under your body as he strips off the little clothing you still had on, leaving you completely naked. He smooths his fingers up and down between your legs.

“You are… so sweet, so pure. A girl like you is truly a treasure.”

Sitting up to rest on your elbows, you watch as he pulls his shorts down his thighs, tanned skin peeking through the dark leather of his skirt. He pushes the straps aside, taking his cock in his hand and stroking himself languidly, a twisted smile on his face as you stare, your lips parted in awe. 

“Have you seen a man before?”

“Not like this, no. Will it hurt?”

“It may, you are such a delicate girl… but it will certainly be a pleasurable pain.”

He leans over you, cock poking the inside of your thigh as he brings himself close, lips ghosting yours. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand between your bodies, running your fingers through your sticky folds.

“Do you feel how dripping wet with arousal you are, my girl? Do you feel how much your body craves mine?” He takes your hand, coated in slick and twists it to rub his length against your palm. “Do you feel how much my body craves yours, too?”

You try wrapping your hand around him, fingers splayed wide as you feel how hot his skin is, thick and heavy and hard, just like the rest of his body. He sighs softly as you tighten your grip experimentally.

“Will it… will it fit inside of me?” You look at him, eyebrows knitted in worry. His two fingers alone felt like they filled you completely, you’re not sure how you could possibly take more.

“We will make it fit. A good girl like you will soon learn to take me. You were made for me — your body craves mine, remember?”

You nod lazily as he lays you down and cradles your cheek again, your eyes fluttering closed as he softly presses his lips to your forehead. He drags his cock through your folds, nudging himself just inside your entrance. The stretch stings, your face contorted as you groan, but even with the pain you can feel that fire burning in your belly again. His thumb draws circles into your cheek, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I would hate to think how another man would ruin you. You are so tight, so perfect.” He inches forward, forcing your legs further apart and he looks down to where he breaches you. “I will be the only man to ruin you.”

He thrusts into you, sheathing himself completely as tears trickle down your cheeks and past your ears. He wipes them away with his thumb, peppering your face with kisses.

“My poor, sweet girl. Tell me how it feels.”

“So big…” You whine as you clench around his length, over and over. Through glassy eyes, you can see his devilish grin as he chuckles at your response.

“Only good girls can simply take what they are given like this, you are doing so well.” He pulls your hand between your bodies again, spreading your fingers around where he splits you open. You moan, a new wave of wetness pooling around his cock. “Even in your rebellion, that’s all you want to be, isn’t it? A good girl — always apologetic, always wanting to make me proud.”

He gives you no chance to comment or fully adjust to his size as he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours. Your tailbone and shoulder blades dig uncomfortably into the hard ground beneath you, rendered defenceless as he pins you down by your shoulders. His gaze flickers up to you, hunger in his eyes turned dark as if he’s starving. He pays little attention to you now as he pistons into you over and over, all sense of care gone as he uses you for his own bliss — and yet, you’re on the verge of release again.

It still burns, being stretched almost unbearably wide, but had you known about these possibilities, you would’ve hunted for this far sooner. His cock drags heavily against your walls, the leather and stitching of his skirt chafing against your thighs, chestplate digging into your lower abdomen and you realise he was right — it is a pleasurable pain.

“Come again for me, my girl. Reach your high again, I know you are close.”

You attempt a response, but your words are incoherent.

“Good girls do as they are told — listen, and I will reward you.”

Your legs tense as you clamp down on him, coating his cock as you come again. You think you hear him grunting, senses overwhelmed by the ringing in your ears, unsure if the stars you see are from the night sky or your own pleasure. You’re still trembling when he pulls out and hovers above you, pumping himself with a tight fist until he spills over your stomach and up between your breasts.

Panting as he comes down, you lie beneath him and your curiosity takes over again — you run your fingers through the milky ropes covering your skin, lifting your hand to watch it web between your fingers. You crane your neck and stick your tongue out to taste it, your eyes on Acacius the whole time.

“My perfect girl…” It comes out barely above a whisper, a crooked smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you properly. He’s strikingly gentle, the scruff of his beard and moustache prickling against your skin, his hand curling to cradle your head. “There is still so much for you to learn, and I am eager to teach you. You are my rascal, after all.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @cafekitsune

[thelastwalkingsoul]

A google sheet masterlist for all your referencing needs!

After driving myself mildly insane trying to keep all my references together, I have compiled a masterlist of every helpful reference I or other users have found/created.

I will aim to update the masterlist every week, so if anyone has references they know of, please DM me here or on Discord!

Also feel free to let me know if any of the links stop working.

Enjoy!

Quick shoutout to everyone who has been featured in the masterlist so far!

@deoidesign, @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe, @luna-writes-stuff, @storiesbyrhi, @subbaculture

@farahsamboolents, @blaqcats-fics, @devondespresso, @dreamwatch, @aqueerkettleofish

@plistommy, @corrodedbisexual, @nogling, @steviesbicrisis, @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

@eddiemunsonstrojans, @pinkrelish, @shybunnie20, @sweetmariihs2, @eiqhties

@steddielations, @steddierthings, @madmonroe, @eddiessidegirl, @eddiemunsonsmum

@eddiemunsonfuxks, @somnambulic-thing, @likearainbowinthedark, @evilrry, @themunsonator5000

@pluckedstrings, @eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers, @fictioninterieur, @lydiamarsin

@dinah-lance, @steddiesvinyl, @strangersteddiethings

[multifandomgirl08]

Change [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: It's the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen's.

Warning(s): Make out session (Non graphic), Time jump from Part 1, Google Translated Dutch, mention(s) of Christian Horner in passing, Mixed Media (Story + Social Media)

A/N: It's not August, but since Part 1 got 1k notes I figured this deserved to be posted early. It wasn't supposed to be this long, I got a little carried away in the end... Should have the next (mini) part up after Belgium. Please don't be afraid to fill my ask box with ideas for this series.

Words: 3.1k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

In the year that you met Nico, a lot of things changed. Most of them were changes for you. A change of job, a change of address, and a lifestyle change.

After two years of dating Max and spending time with Nico, you realized that you didn't want to be half in half out. It took a bit of time but you had found a job that let you work from home, so if Max needed anything you were only a phone call away. Moving to Monaco was a little tougher given that you were on a work visa, but it meant that you got to spend more time with Max when he wasn't working.

It was easier to pack a small duffle bag and go to his apartment than it was to get on a flight to see him for a few hours. And spending time with Nico was a joy.

He was quiet, but he had a way of expressing his emotions with his eyes. If you put food he didn’t like in front of him, he would pout and then he would scrunch his brows together in disgust.

It was nice though, Max would be stuck on his driving sim for a while, so you would take Nico and play with his trains or read him a book until he had to take a nap. Once Max was off the sim, it gave you a chance to answer emails and get through the tasks that you had to do that day. Then, in the evening, you would make dinner together and then eat before putting Nico to bed.

"Mimi," Nico had taken to calling you. You stood in the doorway of his room waiting for him to get into bed so that Max could tuck him in while you packed up your things to take home.

"Yeah, Neeks?" You asked.

"Can you and Papa tuck me in?" He asked. You were surprised that Nico wanted you and Max to tuck him in. He and Max had a routine and you didn't try to make yourself a part of it. You would watch as the father-son pair went about their nighttime routine.

Max would go and do the dishes while Nico went to brush his teeth and change for bed. It gave you and Max a few minutes to yourselves. A few quick stolen kisses before little feet started to run on the hardwood floor. Max would give you another quick kiss before picking up Nico in his arms and taking him into his room before tucking him in for the night.

You looked on into Nico's room to see him in the middle of his bed under the sheets waiting to be tucked in.

"Let me ask him. Okay?" You told Nico seeing the little boy nod his head.

You did need to tell Max, you didn’t want to insert yourself into a routine that wasn’t yours. You had only spent the night at Max’s apartment a few times, and it was mostly when you were too tired to go home. Those few times had been happening more often given that Max was back to traveling for work and the sitter that Max had hired was also moving back home.

You had made your way back into the kitchen to see Max closing the dishwasher before wiping his hands.

“Is he ready for bed?” He asked you.

“Yeah, he asked if… if we could both tuck him in.” You slowly said. You could see his smile growing wide. He already knew that Nico had asked that you both tuck him in.

“Why wouldn’t he, you tuck me in pretty well when you stay over.” You knew exactly what Max meant. So you just shook your head at him, you couldn’t help but laugh that he would be thinking about that now.

“Max!” You couldn’t believe him. You gave him a light shove before he started laughing. “Please come tuck in your son.” You jokingly pleaded before kissing Max on the cheek and feeling his hands move down to your waist. You moved to hold Max’s hand as you walked to Nico’s room.

“Ready for bed, kleine man,” Max said as you both walked through the doorway.

Nico gave a nod, “Ready, Papa.”

You helped Max turn down Nico’s sheets before tucking the covers around the little boy’s feet.

“Vergeet het haar niet te vragen.” Nico muttered before snuggling into his bedsheets.

Max spoke Dutch to Nico every once in a while. It was mostly simple phrases but Nico seemed to grasp the language rather well.

“Ik zal het niet doen.” You looked at Max and saw him lean over and kiss Nico’s forehead.

Both you and Max walked out of Nico’s room, “Night, Nico.” You said.

“Sleep well,” Max said before turning the lights off in Nico’s room and closing his bedroom door.

You knew that Nico would be out like a light once Max closed the door. You walked into Max’s living room and put your computer back into your bag. Once Nico was asleep you would stay until right before Max needed to head to bed. He did have a race the next day, so he wouldn’t stay up too late.

“Movie?” You asked him.

Max gave a slight nod, you wouldn’t finish the movie. You would get just over halfway through before Max would need to get some sleep.

You picked up the remote to hand to him before getting comfortable on his couch settling yourself in his lap. It was easy to snuggle up to Max. You both started looking through all of the options he had on Netflix, he stopped clicking at the remote, “I was wondering if you would want to come to the race next week.”

You were surprised. You had never gone to one of Max’s races, mostly because he had never offered so you never asked. You were okay with just being with him without all of the extra things that came with dating him.

“Are you asking for-” You knew that Nico was going to the race. He had been excited to see Max race in person. Max tried to keep Nico away from the track as much as he could, but that boy loved it just as much as Max did.

“No.” So he wasn’t asking just so someone would be there to watch over Nico. “We’ve been together for two years, and I’ve never asked you to come because I don’t want to pressure you into dealing with the fans and the media.”

In that regard, you were glad that Max understood that all of those things weren’t for you.

“But it’s the last race of the season and I would like both my son and my girlfriend there.” Max did have a point. It was the second season that you were together, and it would be nice to actually go to one of his races and be there to support him instead of sitting at home with Nico watching the race.

Flying to Abu Dhabi for Max’s race would be interesting, you knew that Nico had a passport but you have never spent more than a day or two with the little boy without Max present.

“Yeah, I would love that.” You would probably have to work from your laptop that Friday while Max was at practice but Nico would love watching qualifying and then the race the next day if he didn’t fall asleep halfway through.

Max looked at you and smiled wide, it was so genuine that you couldn’t help but reach over and kiss him. As your lips met, Max was quick to pull you under him on the couch, letting the tips of his fingers trace the bare skin that was just under the hem of your shirt. Your head met one of the pillows on the couch as he slowly laid you down moving between your legs. Your hands moved over the plains of his back which was covered with a thin black shirt that hugged his arms. It was unfair how good he looked.

It wasn’t long before Max turned off the TV and pulled you with him into his room to get some sleep. You wouldn’t be going back to your apartment tonight.

One Week Later - Sunday

Before going to where you would be sitting during the race, You and Nico were on your way to Red Bull hospitality. Max had made sure to drop off your passes on Friday when you had gotten in after he was done at the track on your first day in Abu Dhabi.

“Well if it isn’t the next generation of Red Bull racing,” You heard from the one and only Daniel Ricciardo as you and Nico walked around the paddock before the race.

“Dan!” Nico said letting go of your hand and then ran to Daniel, throwing his arms around the older man’s shoulders as Daniel kneeled on the ground.

You had come to learn from Max that Daniel was with him the day that he found out about Nico. He had gone with him to see Max’s agent and offered to be there the first time that Max had met his son. Max was lucky to have a friend like him.

“Look at you, all ready to go.” He pulled Nico back a little to see his replica racing suit. “If your dad wasn’t in the car, I would think that you were after his job.” Nico had insisted on wearing the replica Red Bull racing suit that Christian had gotten him for his birthday a few weeks ago. Christian treated Nico like the grandson he didn’t have, which included getting him gifts that Max didn’t know about. He wanted to hide it from Max until this weekend, not wanting to jinx a third-world championship win for him.

Given that Max made Pole during qualifying you had unpacked the racing suit from your bag that was hidden in one of your sweaters in case Max ended up looking in your bag.

“Maybe I am.” Nico muttered at Daniel. You couldn’t help but slightly raise your brow at Nico before you saw Daniel shake his head. “Nico.” You warned.

“It’s okay Y/N. If he were any more like Max, he would be Max.” Daniel was used to it by now. He knew that Nico was just like his dad in so many ways. It wasn’t just that they looked alike.

“Very true.” You agreed with him.

“So you here for the whole race?” Daniel asked. Nico walked back to you before he started messing with your paddock passes.

“Yeah, hopefully, someone doesn’t fall asleep until it’s over.” You brushed your fingers through Nico’s hair.

You hoped that Nico would be able to stay awake long enough to see Max by the time the race was over. You knew when you got back to the hotel Nico would be dead tired and go straight to bed.

“Well, I’m sure him sleeping through one race won’t hurt too bad. Max’s been winning championships almost as long as this one’s alive.” That was true, Max had won his first championship just after Nico had turned 1. “Maybe, you’re his good luck charm. Ay, Nico.”

Nico gave a small shrug of his shoulders before pulling at your shirt.

“I should take him back to hospitality before the race starts.” Nico hadn’t eaten lunch earlier claiming that he wasn’t hungry. “Don’t want to get hounded by cameras.” You knew that it was going to be harder after the race.

“You and Max still haven’t…” Daniel didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was talking about. Both you and Max had agreed that you didn’t want the media to know about Nico yet. It was still too soon. Maybe once the season was over.

“Not yet.” Daniel just nodded in understanding.

“Alright, guess I’ll let you go hide Mini Max from the vultures,” Daniel said with a smile.

“Okay,” You lightly chuckled. “Have a good race.”

Nico quickly walked over to Daniel to give him a hug and a big wave before reaching to take your hand again.

It was a short walk over to where you and Nico would be sitting during the race.

It wasn’t long before the race started when Nico pointed down at Max’s car and muttered, “Papa.” while holding food in his little hands. Nico kept watch of the cars zooming around the track and made sure to pay attention when there was an announcement about something that happened.

Halfway through the race, Nico moved to rest his head against your arm, his eyes would close every once in a while. You leaned down to kiss the top of his head feeling him snuggle closer to your side.

The race seemed to pass by rather fast. Max made the next 20 or so laps around the track in record time. Nico had woken up with 10 laps left for Max to complete. Hamilton had tried to overtake at the start of the last lap but never managed to pass Max. It wasn’t long after that you saw everyone from the Red Bull garage walking out to the track watching as Max’s car crossed the finish line as the checkered flag was waved.

Just after you heard it over the speakers. “Max Verstappen wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and is a 3-time Champion of the World!”

You were quick to collect Nico into your arms giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Papa won.” The little boy threw his arms around your neck at the words. Max’s car was making donuts not far from where you and Nico were. Fireworks were going off as you moved out of your seat.

You were quick to grab your bag and take Nico down with you to the garage where you saw people hugging. It didn’t take long for you to see Max, he was still in his helmet but you let go of Nico’s hand so he could run up to his dad and gave him a hug. You watched on as the father and son pair embraced in their matching fireproofs.

You had caught Max’s eyes which were normally hidden by his visor and could tell that he was smiling. Max was holding Nico with one arm and stretched his other hand out for you. You walked closer to him and clasped your hand in his before he gave you Nico moving to take off his helmet. He pulled it off and you could see the lines from the inside padding of his helmet. You reached up passionately kissing him on the lips.

“Congratulations!” You had to yell over all of the other noise that surrounded the three of you. You could see a few tears falling from Max’s eyes as he took in you holding Nico.

“Mijn familie.” You had a pretty clear idea of what he just said, letting a stray tear fall from your eyes. Nico tried to curl up into Max’s chest but somehow ended up squashed between the two of you in a cocoon-like hug.

“Go, enjoy your podium. We’ll wait for you after.” You said into his ear.

“You sure?”

You nodded at his question. Nico had taken a nap during the race, you could wait to take him back to the hotel later. He should get to see his father achieve his dream in person. Nico gave Max another hug, and the older Verstappen kissed you quickly on the forehead before being dragged away by the men in navy blue. Charles found you not long after a small celebration with the guys in Ferrari having finished P2.

You watched from the crowd as Max got sprayed with champagne and then proceeded to cover Christian in it as well. You watched on as Max celebrated. You had to wonder. How often did someone get to achieve their dream three times over?

Max was on the podium with Christian for a little longer before being pulled off to go and answer some questions.

Christian had come over to you and taken Nico to get a few pictures with Max’s trophy. Geri assured you that she would bring Nico back. You trusted her, how could you not trust a Spice Girl?

You didn’t have to wait a long time after that to see Max again. The top of his fireproofs had come off and now he was just in the shirt that was underneath it. He was standing there covered in sweat and champagne with a dopey grin on his face.

You walked over to him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to meet your lips. You ran your fingers through his short hair feeling how sticky the sweet liquid was, and wanting him as close as possible.

“Move in with me.” he said as he pulled back from the kiss.

“What?” You questioned letting your eyes drop to his lips. “Move in with me, Y/N. Help me take Nico to school, and be there every day to see him grow up.” You knew that it wasn’t a marriage proposal. It was Max asking you to move in with him and help raise Nico. He wanted Nico to see you as more than just his papa’s girlfriend.

You met his eyes, seeing as he searched yours before nodding. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again, and your lips met his again, savoring the taste of champagne from his lips. You knew that you would be covered in it by the time you left the track.

“I love you.” You felt him mumble against your lips.

“I love you too.” You let your fingers sink into the fabric of Max’s fireproofs.

“Where’s Nico?” Max’s eyes looked around to see if he would find him anywhere.

“With Christian. Geri said that she would bring him back.” As the words left your mouth you saw the redhead out of the corner of your eyes holding your little boy.

Nico saw the two of you and started to squirm in Geri’s arms before running to both you and Max.

You couldn’t help but slightly stumble back into Max as Nico crashed into both of you, Max’s arms now around your waist holding you so you didn’t fall. Nico gripped you around your knees, his light brown hair brushed against the fabric of your jeans.

You leaned back a little to kiss Max, gripping the side of his neck. You couldn’t wait to have this every day.

wagsoff1

3,543 likes

wagsoff1 Max Verstappen and his girlfriend Y/N L/N seen leaving a private party in Belgium for New Year's

fan40 Is she wearing Alexis Mabille?

fan34 Who is that man? And what had Y/N done to Max Verstappen?

fan80 It's official! She's met Sophie.

fan58 Is Mad Max gone?

fan29 Doesn't seem like it. He's still competitive when he's driving. Just because he cares about his girlfriend doesn't mean it's going to affect the way he performs in the car.

Jan 2, 2024

Translations:

kleine man - little man

Vergeet het haar niet te vragen. - Don't forget to ask her.

Ik zal het niet doen. - I won't.

Mijn familie - My family.

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Your streak of bad luck continues as you find that the universe is not done putting you in harm's way. Luckily, you have grouchy Spider-man to save you.

Word count: 3,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, near death experiences, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara being a rude bastard and a total softie.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [Next Issue]

According to an article that ran in the New York Times: one out of every 40 New Yorkers will have a run in with a Superhero in the time they live here.

That might not sound like much, but considering that nearly 8.5 million people live in this city, it adds up to a lot of people. In fact, most in your friends circle have their own anecdotal story to tell.

I ran into Tony Stark at the Brandy Library and he asked me for my phone number. Bit of a sleaze but he bought our whole table a round of drinks.

Captain America landed on my Fiat on Manhattan Bridge. He dented the roof, but he was very polite about it.

Daredevil was hanging out at the fire escape ladder above the Meatball shop. Gave me tips on what to order.

It's nothing short of a miracle that having lived in this city for as many years as you have that this is the first time you've had a Supes encounter.

It'll be a great story to tell at parties. You fell out of the Chrysler building and were rescued mid-air. It blows all the other stories out of the water. Though, you'll probably leave out the part where he wished he'd left you to die.

You stare blindly at your computer screen. There are endless rows of cells on your excel sheet no matter how far you scroll. Uninterrupted numbers and reference codes for insurance claims that are waiting for your attention. But the numbers and letters all blend into an indecipherable sludge soup. All you can focus on is: 'I should've let you fall.'

Heat prickles your cheek, as you replay his words in your head.

What the hell.

That was entirely unnecessary.

You didn't deserve that.

Over the course of the last 24 hours, you've played the scene on an endless loop in your head, until the memory is worn and scratched like a used up VHS tape.

Did you do something wrong? You must've. Who has ever heard of a Superhero treating a civilian in this manner? You’re just a hapless innocent bystander who fell out of a building due to a supervillain battle they started. To blame it on you and then call it a mistake. Isn't that something a supervillain would do?

Gritting your teeth, you feel yourself seething of the memory of the windows next to you breaking and shattering out of nowhere as a bird-person villain with mechanical wings tumbled past you. Next thing you knew you were tumbling out the window. 

And then he saved you.

Did he mean to save someone else? Is that why he was so annoyed? But, you didn't see any other people falling from the building on your way down.

You replay the memory. Again.

The looming silhouette of his towering frame over yours as he sneered down at you.

He looked at you like he knew you. Like you had offended him with your mere existence. But you don't understand how. You've never met him before. Never met anyone who looked even remotely like him. You would've remembered a man with red eyes, they're not exactly common. Plus, you don't think you've ever met someone quite so tall. Your neck hurt with the angle you had to crane just to look at his face.

What could you possibly have done in your lifetime to piss off a Superhero you've never met before?

For that matter what Superhero is he anyway? You think back at the dark navy suit clinging onto every inch of skin, embellished by that bright angry red in the emblem of a spider.

Spider-man... 

Except Spider-man is known to be a swell guy with a great sense of humor. Not a rude asshole.

Aren't his colors inverted too? You pull up the browser on your screen and google "spiderman outfit". There's over 800 million hits. In all of them Spiderman's suit is primarily red with blue embellishment.

Whoever the guy is, you don't think he's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman that every New Yorker knows and loves.

With a hapless sigh, you click aimlessly on your screen, trying to look busy at work for the next twenty minutes until you can go on your lunch break. You go through the motions of your soul sucking tasks. Tagging each insurance claim into one of the following categories: approved/rejected/further missing information required.

Peering over your cubicle wall to the wall of windows, you spy the section that has been zoned off since yesterday. The broken window you were knocked out of has already been replaced, but there's still shattered glass and debris nearby.

Your stomach drops, the phantom sensation of the ground beneath you giving way. For a brief second you swear you can feel the weightlessness of soaring through the skies without anything catching your fall.

You stand up from your desk, solid ground meeting the soles of your feet to remind you where you are. 

The office.

There's a monotone drone of workers all around you grumbling and sighing just as unhappily. The quiet tip-tapping of keyboards of the working masses.

Is this the life you managed to escape death for?

Is this it?

It's kind of sad isn't it? You nearly died and lived to tell the tale, only to return to a life so unremarkable your brain didn't deign it necessary to provide you with any highlights (cause there are none).

The most exciting thing that has happened to you the whole of this year was being insulted by a grumpy superhero. The most you've wanted to live was during that span of ten seconds when you were falling out of a building to your death.

You glance at your clock, still 15 minutes before noon. You log out of your desktop anyway.

You barely make it across the street from your office. The light is green as you cross Lexington Avenue when the screeching noise of tires tears down the street and rips through your eardrums.

A yellow taxi hurtles towards you at full speed. Through the car window separating you, the cab driver is staring up at you with wide-eyed horror. In that fraction of a second before the hard metal is going to collide and shatter every bone in your body, you only have one thought: Oh god, this is going to hurt.

Life doesn't flash before your eyes. All you see is the familiar blur of shiny blue and red.

Go figure that's the only moment extraordinary enough for your brain to think it's worth replaying before you die.

There's a blunt and forceful shove to the side of your ribs. Softer than you would've imagined a two tonne vehicle slamming into you would be. It doesn't hurt. It reminds you of that time you played football with your cousin and he body slammed you to the lawn. You've heard about this phenomena, the brain will try to protect itself by going unconscious if the pain is too extreme.

But there's no bright light, when you open your eyes all you see is the familiar shiny blue fabric.

A firm weight wraps around your shoulders, and you recognize this, the feeling of being held as you're pulled into their solid chest. There's not enough time for you to look up, you're slammed onto the ground, the solid warmth wrapped around you, absorbing the fall.

The pressure wrapped around you shifts then lifts away entirely. When you open your eyes for a second time, there’s no one there holding you. 

There's no one else there with you. Just the standstill traffic of cars and pedestrians gawking at you.

A concerned woman runs over to you, bending down to help you up on your feet. "Are you okay? That car came out of nowhere."

Your legs feel unsteady, wobbling as you put weight on it to stand up. 

“I’m fine, I think,” you respond, and look down on yourself. There are no scrapes, just a bit of dust on your work-attire from traffic.

"You're so lucky, Spiderman was there to save you."

You blink up at the woman in dazed confusion and it takes your brain a few seconds to process what she's telling you.

Spider-man...

In your mind's eye the flashes of blue and a vivid red invades your vision. It wasn't just your life flashing you by. Not just a figment of your imagination.

He was here. He saved you. (Probably not) Spider-man saved you (again).

A wave of gratitude washes over you. You take back every unflattering thought you had about the man not five minutes ago. Rude? Would a rude man save you, not once but twice in one day? No, of course not, you probably just misunderstood him, or misheard. After all, if he truly regretted saving you, he wouldn't have done it a second time... right?

--

When you get back at your desk, there's a post-it tacked to your computer screen, with an angry scrawl of a handwriting.

'Look BOTH ways before crossing!!!!!'

You stare at the note, and the way the word "both" is capitalized and aggressively underlined.

Rude.

The universe is out to kill you. You're sure of it.

They say that death comes in threes after all. So no one can blame you for being a little bit on the edge after you've gone two for two within the time span of 24 hours.

You stay away from windows in tall buildings. You look both ways, twice, before crossing the street. You try to go straight home from work the minute you clock out from work, turning down any and all initiations with friends to go out after out of precaution. It's just not worth the risk.

And for a while it seems to work. For a while, there are no more incidents. A week goes by and your nerves start to settle and you are lulled into a temporary sense of security before it all goes to shits.

A ceramic flower pot on a windowsill tumbling off the sixth floor of a brown house by Chelsea that would have dropped on your head and split your skull if someone hadn't bumped into you from behind that you weren’t able to catch sight of.

A piece of scaffolding that comes loose and falls from a construction site in West Village as you happened to walk past, and would have been crushed under if you weren’t tackled away at the last second by someone who fled the scene before you could thank them.

A hot dog cart runs amok, hurtling downhill towards you between 184th and 190th street in Manhattan when the cart suddenly out of nowhere, against the very laws of physics like it’s being pulled by an invisible force and changes direction mere inches in front of you, hurtling through the air and crashing into the windows of a bodega instead.

Each and every incident leaves you with an ever growing sense of paranoia that this cannot be explained away by being merely pure bad luck. There are cosmic forces at force that clearly want you dead.

On Thursday, there are leftover cupcakes from a client conference. Mary, the secretary in your team, boxes up four of them for you and tells you to take them with you, because, "you've had a rough week, toots."

It’s not a flattering assessment of you, but when you see your own reflection in the mirrors of the office toilets, you can’t help but think it’s an accurate one. You look rough. Eyes bloodshot with deep furrowed lines underneath. Your face is gaunter than you remember seeing it too. 

You take the cupcakes. 

It's the first good thing that has happened to you all week, and as small of a comfort it is, you take it as a win.

You eye the box from your desk the rest of the day, squirreled away in your tiny cubicle. You are determined not to eat one while at work. Because you'll be damned if Matt from accounting catches a whiff of your cupcakes and asks you to share one with him. You want to properly savor them in the comfort of your home at the end of the day.

But as often is the case when you have something to look forward to, the seconds, minutes and hours tick away with a reluctant drag as if time itself knew you wanted the day to end faster and decided it'd be fun to flip yet another cosmic middle finger in your direction. 

When it's finally time to end work, you get off your chair so forcefully it knocks it to the floor. You are practically jogging through the lanes of cubicles to get to the elevator, and nearly smack the security guard on the other side with how hard you swing open the front door. 

It's pouring outside, which, of course it is. You take off your jacket and cover your cupcake box with it, because you're not going to let the universe ruin the one good thing you've got going for you this week, as you run towards the station.

The moment you step into the damp and sticky station any remaining sense of joy in you evaporates. There's a hoard of tourists swarming the subway paying no attention to their surroundings. Tourists wearing their caps and backpacks and wheelies knocking over a 'Caution Wet Floor ' sign as they gather in a throng in front of the subway map, blocking the way as you hear the train approach.

It's not that big of a deal. A train comes every two to five minutes, and if you miss this one, you'll just get on the next one. It's not the end of the world. Logically, you know that. Emotionally and spiritually however, the world around you has just taken a little bit too much from you for you to concede to this minor little loss.

You are going to make this goddamned train.

Taking a determined step forward, you shoulder and push your way through the throng of people to fight your way to the front of the track.

You push a little too hard. Your feet skid across the slippery tiles, leg buckling from your own weight and you lose control, tumbling forward.

In your peripheral view there's a blinding light approaching. There's wind beating the sides of your face, and you can hear the screeching metal of the train right next to you. Your foot drops into empty space and you are falling into the tracks. 

Oh god why...

Why?

You just want to live.

The cupcake box flies out of your grip, splattered somewhere across the front pane of the train. There's a hard tug on your shirt as an invisible force you cannot see yanks you back, hard.

Your head whips back and for a fraction of a second, there are crimson eyes staring back down at you, you blink and then it's gone.

You land on your ass with a bruising force to your tailbone with a bone-breaking thud. The subway whizzes by with a demonic roar past you, inches from where you're sprawled on your ass on the dirty tiles of the subway station.

In front of your feet, there's a long streak of white frosting trailing down from your feet to the tracks of what looks like a crime scene.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe you've just had a bad night of sleep (after many successive bad nights with little to no sleep). But something in you breaks at the sight of the frosting smeared across the dirty subway tiles.

Your eyes sting with exhaustion. Chest drawing in tight with a crumbling ache that makes you want to curl up on the cold tiles. You're just so tired.

There are people around you staring at you. No one in their right mind who lives in New York would sit on the floor of the subway.

But your legs are heavy and numb. You can’t move from the spot. Everything tastes like bile. You try to swallow and force it back down but it's no use, your throat has swollen shut. Your cheeks run wet and you press your palms to your eyes to make it stop but that only seems to make it worse. Snot runs down your nose and drips down your wrist. You're crying and you don't know how to stop.

Is this the rest of your life?

In the morning, you wake in your bed with a sore ache that gnaws at your bones. Swollen eyes and a soreness that scratches the lining of your throat.

Your back hurts, and as you try to turn to your side to get out of bed a sharp pain surges up along your entire spine.

Fuck.

It's too bright. The sunlight is offensive. It stings your eyes and makes you sick to your stomach. You only have vague memories of how you made it back home. Feet shuffling through the subway in a daze like the walking dead.

God is that what you are? A dead man woman walking?

You crane your head and catch a glimpse of your clock on the bedside table. 9.13 You're late for work. But that's mind as well, you don't have it in you to make it in.

What's the point anyhow? You hate that place.

Besides, if the subway on the way over doesn't finish off the job this time around, then eventually a taxi will. Failing that the universe is probably going to send over a ninja assassin rat from the subway to come after your life.

There's a soft breeze coming in from the open window that grazes the back of your neck and you turn your head towards it. All you can see from your window is the brick wall of the neighboring building. Even though your apartment is on the sixth floor, you can't see a speck of the New York skyline.

Still the breeze is nice, though you don't remember opening the window last night. You never usually do. It is silly and paranoid. No human robber could possibly climb up your six storey building just to climb into your window and rob you. If they could, they’d find that there isn’t much to rob in your apartment, the most valuable thing you own is a complete Le Creuset Cookware set. 

Your eyes glaze over your work tote bag on the floor next to the window, drifting upwards and spot the pink box sat on the window sill and you stop. 

You didn’t put that there. 

You sit upright in your bed, setting your feet to the floor and force yourself to leave your bed as you pad over to the open window.

It's a fancy looking thing. Baby pink, and chiffon ribbon on its side. Wrapping your pinkie around it, you tug it loose. You perch your thumb against the corner of the lid when you stop.

It's not another one of the universe's assassination attempts is it? You're not going to open it to find a bomb ticking down are you?

You hesitate for another moment, taking a deep calming breath before you gather the courage to finally lift the lid. Inside, there is a gorgeous display of cupcakes adorned with white and pink frosting, topped with strawberries, chocolate shavings and on two of them there's mini macarons.

Way fancier than the day old Costco cupcakes you'd lost yesterday.

Picking up one, you take a bite. The frosting is light and zesty. The refreshing lemon melts on the tip of your tongue as the buttery cream floods your mouth with the rich flavor. It's the best thing you've ever tasted.

Lifting the box, you check the sides of it to see if there's any note left behind, but there's none.

Gladis Bakery. It's from a bakery you've never heard of before. When you google the name the place is outside of New Jersey, 58 minutes away and you would need to take a subway then switch to a tram.

There's no note attached, but you don't need one. The list of candidates who would be physically able to climb up six floors up the bricks of your apartment building to leave cupcakes on your window isn’t a long one. 

Something warm blooms in your chest at the thought, and your fingers linger on the top of the box, savoring the taste of lemon and sugar still lingering on your tongue.

You put your head out the window, not sure what you're expecting to find but find yourself disappointed all the same when there's nothing there. No people in the quiet street below, and nothing unusual above.

"Thank you for uhm... saving me,” you say into the silence with nothing but the traffic noise below to answer you. 

 “And the cupcakes," you add. 

There's no reply. 

~ To be continued.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[eroselless]

PATO - FIVE

series masterlist | part 3 | part 4

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: pregnancy, angst, breastfeeding, spanish and google translated french

note: Yikes, the way I wrote charles is lowkey toxic, mb lol. This part reminded me of a picture i saw ages ago about how men and women deal with breakups, dudes moving on immediately and end up being sad after a few months and women being sad for a bit and then moving on after a few months. 

Anyways, shoutout to my baby sisters for being my main inspiration behind Lucero and for helping me figure out what babies do at 13 months lol I apologies in advance if some things don’t make sense, I tried my best to imitate the way they used to speak and use that for Lucero. 

Although not necessary, I listened to this playlist while I did all my writing and editing. It’s a nice bittersweet blend. If you guys wanna give it a listen, I think it would enhance the feelings in this part :)

We’re bouncing a little with the time jumps again but as always, they have the dates so its easier to track :) Happy reading!

MEXICO, OCTOBER 2024

Charles staggers into the hotel room, chest heaving as if he’s been sprinting miles without rest. His chest constricts,  each breath coming out in shallow puffs as he struggles to recompose himself. 

“Mon cœur?” he hears come from the bedroom and he no longer has it in him to hold back. Alexandra peeks out, eyes full of concern as she approaches the sobbing man. His face is buried in his hands and he would give anything to blend into the wall he’s leaning on. Guiding him to their room, she sits him down, slotting herself between his legs as he grips tight around her middle. His tears soak through her shirt as his body wracks with loud sobs. 

Frustration, anger, sadness – they all jumble together in his mind. Alexandra runs her fingers through his hair, murmuring comforts and feather light kisses into his hairline and waits for the sobs to soften before speaking. 

"Mon cœur, que s'est-il passé?" she asks, gently pushing his face away from her torso. My heart, what happened? She cradles his face as he looks up at her, silent tears staining his face. “That little girl we met today... she's my daughter. I didn’t know.” His voice is hoarse when he whispers, full of regret and guilt.

Alexandra’s eyes widen at the admission. “Charles, comment a-t-elle pu te cacher quelque chose comme ça? C'est... impardonnable," she says, her tinged with sympathy and indignation. How could she keep something like this from you? That's... unforgivable.

Charles shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, a few tears still escaping down his cheeks. His sobs are fading in quiet hiccups as he slowly regains his breathing. “No, Alex. It’s not her fault. I’m the one who wasn’t there, it’s all my fault. I didn’t care enough, I left.”

She’s puzzled at his confession, lost in the depth of his sorrow. “What?”  

​​*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MONACO, DECEMBER 2022

You’re lying partially on your side, arm draped over your bare chest as it rises and falls at a steady pace. He watches as you turn away, hair cascading over your back. The sheets are wrapped just over your middle, your upper body completely exposed to the air. The soft morning light filters through the room and Charles can’t help but think of the events last night.

He can still hear your voice as it echoes through the room, begging him not to stop. He can feel the crescent moons you’ve pressed into the thick muscles of his back. The ghost of your lips still lingers on his skin, like the stain of red lipstick on the collar of a white shirt. 

He leans over your sleeping figure, dragging his nose over your shoulder and pressing a ghost of a kiss there. It rouses you just enough to murmur a drowsy protest. “Don’t go,” you whisper and reach out for him, the tips of your fingers barely catching his skin. He is already on his feet. 

"I'll be back soon," he lies, slipping out before you can say anything else. He busies himself with mundane tasks, filling his day with errands that could be left for later. He thinks of you, all on your own, in your shared apartment waiting for him to come home. As you always did. He drives across the city, glancing at his phone as your messages roll in, swiping them away almost as quickly as they came. 

The truth was, being at home was proving to be increasingly difficult as time went on. His home with you, once a sanctuary, felt like a pressure cooker ready to pop. He loved you, doted on your every move but the constant fear of his career and unrelenting scrutiny of the public had slowly started to suffocate him. He couldn’t bear to break your heart and burden you with his overwhelming amount of feelings. What if he’d never be good enough for Ferrari, good enough for you? With every moment he spent away, he kept sinking into his own mind, choosing to ignore you and your attempts at breaking down his walls. He hated being away from you but he couldn’t help but pack you away into a corner of his mind, where he knew you’d be waiting for him, day in and day out. 

He comes home late that night, the guilt of having to face you gnawing at him. It's well after sunset and the night air is cool, the breeze turning icy. He walks through the door, expecting the lights to be off but is surprised to see you leaning over the sink, rinsing off dishes. 

Your face lights up when you see him, a tender smile he knows is only for him.

“Cha, you’re back,” you exclaim, turning to face the counter closest to the wall. You pick up a plate, filled generously with a meal that he could tell you spent a great deal of effort on. It’s gone cold in his absence. 

He only gives you a small smile, pressing a light kiss to your temple. He can’t help but feel a little surprised at your good mood. But he can’t bring himself to match the enthusiasm you carry in your voice.“I’m not really hungry,” he mutters, eyes not meeting yours. “I think I’ll just shower and head to bed.”

Your smile falters as he moves towards your bedroom, hurt flickering across your face. “But.. I made this for you. You’ve been out all day, I thought we could eat together.” 

He forces a smile, trying to appease you and end the conversation quickly. “I appreciate it amour, really. I’m just really tired.”

He can feel your eyes on him as he turns away, heavy with unspoken words. If he knew then what he knows now, he would've stood in that room and held you close. He would’ve tried harder to keep you by his side. He would’ve told you that he loved you. But he didn’t. 

She’ll come back, it’s okay, his thoughts echo while he stares at the door as you run into the night. You’re his rock, his anchor. His home. Weeks trickle by slowly and he can feel you slip away as more time goes by. He eventually stops thinking that he can hear your keys jingle in the lock at the front door. Your scent no longer clings to the bedsheets and the lush scented detergent you would buy gradually runs out. He slowly begins placing your things in boxes and taking them into storage where he hopes one day you’ll come to get them. Soon enough, he erases you from the apartment completely and it's as if you were never even there.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles shakes his head, his breath hitching. “I would do that often when I was home. I would lavish her with affection, trying to make sure she knew that I loved her with my whole being but…” he stops, pressing shaky fingers to his lips as if his breath is completely depleted. “I would find reasons to leave, seeking comfort in anything that wouldn’t make me think of what I was feeling inside.”

"Why?" Alexandra asks softly, her hand gently stroking his back. 

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing her, of not being enough. I thought keeping my distance, both physically and emotionally, would protect the both of us, but it only drove her away."

Alexandra's heart aches for him as he confesses. She knows Charles loves her but as his emotions spill out before her, she can’t help but feel like the other woman. She feels guilty as this new feeling is born and grows quickly. He’s confiding in her and the only thing she can think of are the doubts beginning to spiral in her mind. Trying to mask her discomfort she wraps her arms around him, his body relaxing against her as his breath gets smoother. 

"You did what you thought was best, Charles. You made mistakes, yes, but now you’ve learned and can move to find a better way forward," she says as her hand rubs up and down his back. 

Charles shakes his head. "I was selfish, Alex. I was so focused on my fears that I ignored her needs. I wanted to build a life together, to have a family. I pushed her away, and now... now I have a daughter I've never met."

Alex swallows hard as tears begin to bead in her eyes. She tries not to think too much about what he’s saying. She tries not to think about how this could make or break them. Would he still want to build something with me? Have the family he’s always wanted with me? 

“But you're here now and that’s all that matters. It’s not going to be easy but you can still be part of Lucero’s life and maybe, in time find a way to make amends.” She meets his gaze once again. The whites of his eyes are now red, only making the green around his iris look more brilliant than it did before. “Thank you, mon amour. For being here, for listening. I don’t deserve you.” 

She gives him a small smile, pushing away the feelings of insecurity that are now growing in the back of her mind. “Nous allons nous en sortir. Juste… ne m'exclut pas, d'accord ? Je ne peux pas t'aider si tu ne me laisses pas entrer.” We’ll get through this. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.

“Je promets,” he nods, pulling her into his arms again. I promise. 

Charles is exhausted as he lays in her arms later that night, face pressed into her chest, snug against her heart. Alexandra lies awake in the darkness, the thought of you overtaking her mind. Her hands tenderly brush over Charles’s hair, his deep breaths tickling her skin slightly. There will always be a part of him that belonged to you. And it makes her wonder, with Lucero and you beginning to take your places in his heart, would there still be room for her? 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun gently peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir from your sleep, eyes heavy as you turn to the sound of Lucero’s cries. You begin to pull yourself up, pushing the sheets off of you. You hear a string of tsks next to you, Carlos gently pulling you back to bed.

“Tu quedate aqui,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “Yo voy por ella.” You stay here, I’ll get her.

You mumble a slurred ok, nodding with eyes still very heavy as you settle back down. Eyes still puffy with sleep, you settle on now propped-up pillows. Pulling at the straps of your sleep shirt, you slip the top off. You watch hazily as Carlos moves to Lucero’s makeshift crib, his steps quiet and measured. He coos at her and you can see her little hands reach out for him, legs kicking in frustration. “Buenos días, mi patito,” he says, cradling her close. “Ya vamos con la mamí, no te preocupes.” Good morning, my duckling. We're going with mummy, don’t worry. It makes your heart flutter as he stares at her with his gentle eyes, pressing a kiss to her hand as it goes to poke at his chin. 

He makes his way back to the bed, watching as you adjust yourself in your spot. Lucero babbles, her initial upset fading into a groggy murmur as she nestles into the crook of Carlos’s neck. Her thumb catches on her lip as she tries to suck on it.

Carlos chuckles as he watches her latch onto it, gently pulling it from her mouth. “No, señora,” he says teasingly. No, ma'am. “No thumb-sucking, little miss.” His gaze is warm as he hands her to you. 

The room fills with a peaceful silence as Lucero latches on, her small body relaxing in her mother’s arms. She holds on tightly, almost insatiable as she feeds. Carlos climbs back into bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze is fixed on the two of you, eyes soft as he sees how devoted you’ve become to your little one, the love and connection strong between you. 

He can’t help but feel a sense of awe as he continues to watch you. He can’t help but admire how far you’ve come, the bond between you and Lucero beautiful and pure. The feeling of protectiveness and devotion to the two of you grows every day. He catches him thinking of the babe as his own, his daughter. She meant everything to him and he can’t bear to even imagine his life without her in it. Yet, he knew that Charles had a right to be a part of her life too, no matter how much it hurt to have to share that role. It's a thought that fills him with warmth but follows with a pang of bittersweet reality. 

With Lucero’s cries ceased, you gaze down at her. You're engrossed with how peaceful she looks, her little nose pressing into the flesh of your breast, little hands holding you as close as she can. Her eyes are beginning to droop again as her tummy fills up. She sighs in her stupor, pausing briefly before continuing.

You can feel Carlos’s gaze on you. He looks at you in adoration, fingers ghosting over Lucero’s chubby legs. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, sitting up as he does. Taking a deep breath, he breaks the silence. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asks gently. “And what comes next?” 

The question hangs in the air briefly, heavy with the weight of this new reality. You take a deep breath, mind coursing with different thoughts and emotions. “Not really, no.” You confess with a dry chuckle. If you could stay in this moment, just the three of you, you would without a second thought. “But we need to.”

He takes another deep breath, nodding. His expression is thoughtful as he threads his fingers through yours, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I know,” he says quietly. “I was thinking… If we’re going to do this, maybe we should also think about involving Alexandra.”

You blink in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing. “Alexandra?” you repeat, voice uncertain. 

Carlos nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I know its complicated, but she’s a part of Charles’s life. If he’s going to be in Lucero’s life, she might be too.” 

Your expression is still a puzzled one as you respond. “I hadn’t thought about that,” You admit. “Do you think it's a good idea?”

Carlos sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I think we should at least be open to it. Lucero deserves to know everyone who loves her. And I’m here, i know it’s not the same but I feel that because of that, she should be there too. We can’t ignore that.”

Your heart aches slightly at the thought, fear and hope swirling in your chest. “I’m scared, Carlos,” you say, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t want to make things harder for her.” 

Carlos leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know,” he whispers, eyes trained on her little figure, still sucking away. “But we need to think about what’s best for her in the long run. We’ll take it slow and be there for her every step of the way.”

Your eyes begin to fill with tears, your grip on Lucero tightening slightly. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if it hurts her?”

Carlos’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s okay,” he says firmly. “We’ll protect her. But we can’t shield her from everything. She deserves the chance to know her family, even if it’s complicated.”

You nod slowly, heart heavy with the weight of the decision. “Okay,” you say softly. “We’ll try. But we have to be careful. We have to make sure it’s what’s best for her.”

Carlos smiles, his eyes filled with love and pride. “We will,” he promises. He presses his forehead to yours.“We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucero had finished feeding, her eyes now drifting closed as she snuggles against your chest.  You look down at her daughter, feeling a swell of emotion as you cradle her closer. Her jaw trembles slightly, a sign she was tired once again. “I just want her to be happy,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly.

Carlos wraps his arm around you, pulling the two of you close. “She will be,” he says gently. “She has you. And she has me. And now, she has a chance to know her father too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BRAZIL, NOVEMBER 2024

The sun is high over Sao Paolo when you arrive to the paddock. The air is electric with excitement, spectators slowly filling up the stands around the track. Their conversations create a gentle buzz that echoes above the garages. 

Carlos makes his way into the paddock, smiling at photographers and journalists as they wait for his entrance. They don’t miss the small body he holds in his arms and the woman that trails closely behind him, fingers intertwined with his. 

Your eyes scan meet the people waiting for you to enter, a delicate smile gracing your lips. Once in the Ferrari garage, you take release a breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding back. 

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” you ask Carlos as you’re settled in the back of the garage. A sudden wave of nerves washes over you as you can see a couple photographers clicking away around the garage. “Bringing her here?”

Carlos leans on one of the tables with you, nodding, fingers gently brushing over her wispy tufts of brown hair. “She seems to like it,” he points out as she squeals happily, pulling at the wire that connects to the big headphones Fred passed to her as you entered. “Besides, it’s good for her to see where Charles and I spend so much time.”

You smile, the concern still evident in your eyes. “I just don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Carlos says, fingers going to lovingly pinch at your arm. You know he’s referring to her but the look on his eyes makes you think he might mean you too. 

Lucero spots the red car being worked on and babbles excitedly as she sees the garage technicians checking around the car. 

“Cah-loh!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of wonder and determination. “Sí, Lu, un carro,” you correct gently. Yes, Lu, a car. Her attempt at say carro was endearing, the R sound still elusive for her baby tongue. Car. “Es rojo. Puedes decir, rojo?” she claps her hands, ignoring your request. Its red. can you say red? 

Carlos chuckles, leaning down to kiss her head. “Lolo’s going to drive el carro rojo, mi amor.” he says to her, pointing to himself and adding a soft vroom as he begins to imitate a car with his hand. He makes almost a flying motion with his hand in front of you before gently whooshing it towards the bubbly baby, tickling her tummy. She giggles, managing to grap his hands and pulls at his fingers. She holds them up to her face, a soft gargle of buh buh buh falling from her lips.

Lucero catches the eye of Charles as he makes his way into the garage, his eyes lighting up as he approaches you. He’s wearing those god-awful bleached jeans again, the odd stripes something you always teased him about. You just don’t see the art yet, he’d often say.

He gives Carlos a side hug before hesitantly leaning over you and wrapping his arms around you. It sends a wave of nerves through the both of you. He lets go quickly before he can think much of it and crouches slightly to meet Lucero’s eyes. 

“Bonjour, ma petite amour,” His voice is soft as he speaks to her. Hello, my little love. There’s an eager smile on his face, one that masks the nerves that were bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s one you recognize. 

Lucero looks at Charles, suddenly clampering into your arms, tucking her face into your neck. Charles’s heart clenches at the sight. “Muñeca, dile hola a Cha,” you say, his nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. Doll, say hi to Cha. 

You poke gently her little tummy, pulling her attention to her father. He smiles at her as she peeks out from behind your hair. You guide her hand gently towards Charles and she meets him in the halfway, her little fingers wrapping around his. “She’ll warm up,” you reassure. “It’s a lot for her, all these new faces and places.”

Charles nods, a slight flutter of uncertainty vibrating through his chest. “I understand,” he says. “I’m just happy to see her.”

Carlos observes the exchange, emotions swirling in his chest. He can’t help the protectiveness and understanding that bubble up as he sees this. He moves away from the table only to have Lucero reach her arms out for him. 

“Vienes conmigo, estrellita?” he asks as she pulls away from you and Charles, oblivious to the emotions of the adults around her. Are you coming with me, little star? She points excitedly at the car again, prompting Carlos to get near it. Buh buh buh she tries quietly.

“Bah bah,” she finally manages, voice loud as she proceeds to bury her face into Carlos’s shirt. He lets out a giggle as she does so. “Baba, bluum.” he looks at her with wide eyes, bouncing her in his arms. He glances over at you, jaw slack as he identifies what she’s trying to say. 

Charles’s smile falters momentarily. She means papa, he thinks. He masks his broken-heartedness quickly and turns to you. “She seems to really like the cars.” He comments, trying to keep his otne light.

“She does,” you say, glancing between the two men. “Maybe she’ll be a driver someday, like her father.”

“Maybe,” Charles says, his voice sounding like it’s far away. The word father hangs in the air, shrouded in a veil and he’s not sure if you mean Carlos or him. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Unraveling the Ferrari Enigma: Carlos Sainz Arrives with Mystery Woman and Baby, Spotted Again with Charles Leclerc at Brazilian GP

In an unexpected twist at the Mexican Grand Prix, Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz was seen arriving hand-in-hand with a mystery woman and a baby, sparking widespread speculation and intrigue within the F1 community. The woman, identified by sharp-eyed fans as Y/N L/N, the elusive former girlfriend of Sainz’s teammate, Charles Leclerc, has rarely been seen publicly, adding to the mystique surrounding this revelation.

Y/N L/N, who maintained a low profile throughout her relationship with Leclerc, has remained a figure of intrigue among fans and the media. Leclerc, known for his privacy regarding personal matters, never publicly acknowledged L/N, making this unexpected appearance alongside Sainz and the child even more startling.

Adding to the speculation, L/N and the baby—whose identiy remains undisclosed—made a second appearance at the Brazilian Grand Prix, further capturing the attention of the F1 world. Observers noted that not only were L/N and the child seen with Sainz, but they were also frequently spotted around Leclerc, intensifying curiosity about the current dynamics within the Ferrari team.

The repeated public appearances of L/N and the child have ignited a flurry of questions regarding their connection to Sainz and Leclerc, and what this means for the Ferrari drivers off the track. Could this development cause tension between Sainz and Leclerc? With the high stakes of the racing season and the close-knit nature of the F1 community, the unexpected appearance of L/N and the baby has undoubtedly raised eyebrows and sparked numerous questions.

a/n: Hi friends! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Any feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated, they seriously keep me so motivated <3

What do you guys think about this little news item? I enjoyed coming up with the one I made back in part 2, I thought why not make one for this part? Should I keep adding them in every now and then?

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy @honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux @jeondeluxe111 @dessxoxsworld @xoscar03 @emryb @yl90 @poppyflower-22 @a-distantdreamer

strike through => tumblr won’t let me tag you!

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part fifteen

authors note: i hope everyone has recovered from the last chapter! just remember, there's, typically, light at the end of the tunnel!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: violence, angst, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

Alexis is going to jail.

She’s accepted as such and doesn't really care about that as much as she's curious about what the charges will be. Aggravated assault. Attempted murder. Actual murder. It’s all up in the air, each a very much real possibility. 

Truth be told, she’s wanted to put the paws on Mariah for years. And not even because Mariah has done anything outright, not close to this level anyways. It was just something about her that screamed fake and inauthentic. However, she recognized what friendship and loyalty meant to you, and while you’d mentioned a few arguments over the years, nothing was major enough for her to act on her violent urges.

Now though? 

Now, she’s ready to rain fire. 

She doesn’t give a flying fuck about traffic laws, well exceeding every speed limit she zooms through in order to make it to Mariah’s house. It’s an address that wasn’t too hard to find. Google is such a wonderful thing. She would have asked you for that information, but she also wants you as separate from what she’s about to do as possible. Especially with DCFS in the midst of an active investigation.

Just thinking about it pisses her off even more. It’s one thing to call DCFS on someone who’s arguably one of the best parents on this fucking earth, but it’s another to accuse said parents of the things Mariah accused you. 

It’s unforgivable. 

It’s also why Alexis won’t feel somewhat content until she spills Mariah’s blood. Pulling up into the driveway behind the parked Camry, Alexis shuts off the car, reaches for the bat in the passenger seat and slams the door behind her as she marches up the three steps to the front door. Her fists immediately start banging on the door. “Open the door, hoe!” More banging. “I know you in there! Come outside so I can crack ya’ fucking head open!”

Alexis isn’t stupid. She knows no one with common sense would open the door to anyone yelling such things. Cue: the bat. 

Moving across the porch, Alexis doesn’t hesitate to give a solid swing to the window, effectively cracking it. The second blow is the one, however, that shatters it. She kicks through the remnants and proceeds to climb in. 

With a possible element of surprise, Alexis opts to remain quiet, looking around the living room. She’s tempted to smash the TV but decides against it, as she’d much rather save her strength for blows against Mariah’s body.

Moving throughout the house, she’s lucky enough for the first door she kicks open to reveal her victim. 

But Mariah isn’t alone.

In a pleasant surprise. Alexis just so happens to walk in on Mariah receiving backshots from a man who quickly stumbles and looks back over his shoulder at her entrance. Alexis immediately recognizes him. 

Amir.

“Now ain’t this about a bitch!” Alexis' smile is wild and crazed as she watches Amir stumble to cover himself, Mariah’s eyes also wide with horror and shock as she holds the sheet to her chest. “A two for one special. My lucky fucking day.”

“What the hell?” Amir has managed to pull his boxers on and is standing near the bed, close to Mariah in an almost protective manner. Like that’ll keep her safe from Alexis' wrath. “Alexis? What the fuck are you doing?”

“I would ask ya’ll niggas the same thing, but ain’t no sense in stating the obvious.” She motions between the two of them with her steel bat. “How long?”

Mariah screams, the fear in her voice and eyes music to Alexis soul. “Get out of my house!”

“Oh, Imma leave, but not until you’re unconscious.” She looks toward Amir. “And if you try to get in my way, Imma knock your ass out too.” Alexis' hands are rated E for everyone. She fights females and males with equal smoke. “Now, I’m not gon’ ask again, how long have ya’ll been fucking behind Y/N’s back?”

Truth be told, Alexis wouldn’t trust a single word out of either of their mouths, but she’s curious. The answer regardless will aid in the intensity of her beating. 

Amir is the first to ‘answer’. “I don’t owe Y/N shit. She’s not my girl.” As if he has a right to be upset, he continues, anger painting his face. “I tried, but she chose to be with that nigga.” 

“And will every single mother fucking time because unlike you, he’s actually worth something and deserves her. Not like you two snakes.” It’s the fact that Amir thinks that he’s been done wrong in some way that blows her mind. He might be as delusional as the bitch he was just fucking. “I’m tired of talking. Get the fuck out my way, so I can knock this hoe’s head off.”

It’s when Alexis takes a step toward the bed that Amir extends his arm out, “wait, before you do this—”

“Do you even know what she did?” Alexis demands, grip on the bat tightening as she remembers holding you as you cried into her over having your child ripped away from you. The fear in Callie’s eyes. It enrages her all over again. “Ask the bitch! Go on, ask her!”

Amir is still understandably cautious and pissed at this intrusion, but his gaze still falls on Mariah. “What is she talking about?”

Mariah pauses and shakes her head, stuttering. “I–I don’t know. She’s–she’s crazy.”

“She’s a liar!” Alexis shouts, explaining to Amir. “She called DCFS on Y/N and made up all kind of lies!” She juggs the bat in the direction of that slime. “They took Callie away from Y/N because of her!”

It seems like there’s a sudden shift that Alexis recognizes as the tide gradually turning. She still thinks Amir is a piece of shit, but it does count for a tiny something that he looks absolutely disgusted by this revelation. His eyes narrow at Mariah. “You did what?” Mariah’s face gives away her guilt as he demands, “what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do that!”

Clearly adept at deviating, Mariah attempts to redirect the focus. “You really gon’ believe this bitch over me!” 

Alexis laughs, throwing her head back. She’s really going to enjoy breaking this bitch jaw.

Amir seems heated now. Again, not that Alexis really cares. He’s not much better than this hoe in her book. “You got her child taken away from her, Mariah! What part of that do you not understand is fucked up! You’ve gone too fucking far!”

“If Callie got taken away, then she should have been doing a better job making sure her kid was straight instead of chasing a married around like a desperate who—”

Alexis lunges, literally lunges, across the room before Mariah can even finish her sentence. There’s a sickening crack that enters the air when her fist collides with Mariah’s nose. Mariah’s cry is sounded out by Alexis snatching her by her hair and banging her head into the headboard. “Say it, bitch! Say it so I can knock ya fucking teeth out your mouth.”

“Get off me!” Mariah screams, but it’s no use, Alexis blows are powerful and focused, knuckles burning from the impact with bone, not that it makes a difference to her. She’s only seeing and hearing red.

“I been wanted to stomp your hoe ass!” And Alexis does just that, dragging and tossing Mariah onto the floor and stomping her feet into Mariah’s side. 

Mariah is crying like a little bitch, screaming, “help me!” 

But Amir does nothing, just stands there watching as Alexis rains blow on top of blow, kick on top of kick to the broad he was just balls deep in minutes ago. It speaks volumes of his character, not that that was much to behold anyway.

However, it’s when she cries out again, “we got a fucking son together, Amir!”

This actually takes Alexis by surprise as she realizes what Mariah just said. She knows the bitch has a son, but she also knows this woman is married. Though estranged, still married. Is…..is Amir the biological father of her son? Has she really been messing with Amir long enough for him to possibly father her baby?

Is that why she’s estranged from her husband?

That’s a whole other layer that adds to the betrayal. Alexis starts mixing on Mariah again, ignoring the splatter of blood on her fists and the possibility that her child might be just a room or two away.

At least she still has her kid. 

“That’s enough.” Amir’s voice finally sounds from behind her, but Alexis is in the zone. She’s not letting up off this hoe. “Alexis, that’s enough!” And then he makes the cardinal mistake of trying to interfere, reaching to pull her off Mariah. Instantly, Alexis reaches behind and lands her fist against his face.

“Fuck!” He calls out. Alexis grabs the bat, swinging it across his knee. Amir cries out and falls on his back, cradling his knee. “You crazy bitch!”

“That’s right, I’m the crazy bitch that’s gon come back and fuck both ya’ll asses up again if you ever in your life try Y/N!” Alexis realizes Mariah is on the verge of losing consciousness, so she ensures she grabs her by her raggedy tracks. “You stay the hell away from her, you hear me? You even so much as utter her name, utter Callie’s name, and I’mma put you six feet under!” A final stomp to Mariah’s jaw is the last thing she sees before being knocked unconscious. 

Breathing heavy, Alexis looks around, pleased with her carnage only to see Amir starting to stand up, knee obviously fucked up. “I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

Alexis marches over to him and punches him square in his nose, satisfied with the crunch sound that follows. He curses loudly, hands over his nose that’s started to spurt out blood. 

“Bitch ass nigga,” she mutters, taking one final survey of the room and walking out, pleased with the results. She suddenly feels so much better, hungry but deeply satisfied. Curious, she asks a groaning Amir.

“Ya’ll got a McDonald’s in this town?”

—---------

The knock on the door is probably the first thing to make you feel anything in hours. You’ve just laid on the bed all day, staring at the empty wall across the room. The apartment is quiet. It’s never quiet. 

Not since you first brought Callie home from the hospital. You miss her giggles, her loud singing, the patterning of her feet as she runs into your room, jumping on the bed, rambling about the most random of things.

You wished that her being with your mom and not some random family would provide more comfort than it does, but as soon as you try to find some relief in that, your mind goes towards why she’s with your mom and the fact that you are legally barred from speaking to and interacting with the child you birthed and have raised since she first entered this world.

That’s when the tears come. You’re not sure there’s many left to be honest.

So, a knock on the door is the closest thing you have to hope, hope that someway, somehow, someone with enough pull was able to make all of this go away, make this nightmare of a reality a thing of fiction. 

Running to the front door, that hope is both dashed yet sustained when you rip it open. 

Turns out you’re wrong, there are definitely more tears left.

“Joe…”

You’re not sure who makes the move first, probably him, because the moment his eyes land on you, his expression softens into something sympathetic. 

He’s holding the back of your head as you cry into his chest, comforting you. And then it hits you. You pull away, holding onto his shirt, “did you see her? H-how is she?”

You made sure to emphasize that Joe needed to check in on Callie before coming to see you, not that it was something he needed to be told. You’re certain his first and foremost priority was checking in on Callie. 

He wipes at your eyes. “She’s okay.” It’s a safe answer, one that’s probably both partially and impartially true. How okay can she be in a situation like this? His response is more for your comfort than anything, you’re sure. “I got her down for bed before I left.” His eyes give you a one over. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

You’re certain you must look a mess. You also don’t care about that. You don’t really care about much to be honest. 

Still, it’s a valid question that takes you a second to contemplate. “I–I don’t know.” And before he can say something further, you inform, “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“No, I–what I need is to start getting this place together.” Pulling away from him, sniffling and wiping at your eyes, you motion around your apartment. “They’re doing the home inspection tomorrow.”

In between tears and depression, you’d received formal notice regarding the home visit where they’d evaluate the environment to ensure its appropriateness for a child as well as your emergency court date. 

Joe’s gaze is on you and lazily scans the room that’s more or less spotless. “It looks fine, Y/N.”

“Fine isn’t good enough, Joe,” your voice is firmer, a hint of irritation. “It has to be perfect so they can—” Without even realizing what’s happening, another unexpected set of tears arrives, your voice cracking. “—so they can give my baby back to me.”

He guides you back into his chest, comforting you as the next set of waterworks overcomes you. You’ve always hated crying, always found it irritating because it was hard to control, even harder to stop. This is all of those things. 

“I can’t believe she would—would do this to me.” That’s the part you still can’t wrap around. How could you not see what kind of person Mariah was? You’ve always thought you were a good judge of character. This was Callie’s legal godmother for fucks sake. “Do you know what she said about me? What she said I was going to do—” Your mouth watering and stomach twisting alerts you to what’s about to come, and you dash away from him to the bathroom where you fall to your knees, vomiting into the toilet. 

Joe is behind you not even minutes later, hand on the small of your back as you cry over that same toilet. There’s a level of appreciation for him being here with you in this moment, but it still doesn’t wholly ease that dull ache in your chest. 

Getting cleaned up, Joe doesn’t take no for an answer when he says that he’s going to make you something to eat and you’re going to eat. Deep down, you know he’s right. Not only are you teetering on sleep deprivation, but the lack of food in your system is eventually going to take a toll. And you need to be at your absolute best the next few days. 

However, even with his delicious cooking and emotional support, it’s not enough to keep your emotions at bay because you end up right back at that toilet, depositing everything you just tried to consume.

You just feel so off, so incomplete, because you are. 

Because you don’t know you’re supposed to proceed without your child. How you’re supposed to proceed and act like your world hasn’t been turned upside down, like you’re not in a position where you have to prove that you’re a fit parent. 

Something you could have never imagined you’d be having to prove. This whole situation, nightmare, has pushed you so much farther in the direction of wanting to move.

Mariah’s play has stolen your sense of security in this town, the place you’ve always called home. It feels like you’ll never be able to feel comfortable again so long as she’s also a resident. Blocking her on all platforms isn’t enough. You don’t want her to have any access to you or Callie whatsoever.

And that can only be done with moving. 

A small part of you considers talking with Joe about you and Callie staying at his place in Florida for the time being until you find a house. And you hate that, the idea of uprooting your and Callie’s life so suddenly. Not even being able to stay until the end of the school year, not being able to give your students the proper time to transition and adjust to your departure.

But you have to think about your family, your child, and what’s best for her.

It's starting to become more and more clear that the best thing you can do at this point is leave.

If not the only thing. ________

“She finally sleep?”

After treating herself to McDonalds, Alexis casually reached out to her legal team to let them know she could be facing a couple of charges and to be ready to bail her out once the warrant was issued. They were already fast ahead in working towards a plan to get said charges dismissed, so she's honestly not concerned at all.

And even if they aren’t dismissed, she doesn't mind. 

She’d do it all over again if she had to. 

So, after getting cleaned up and settling her affairs, she headed back over to the apartment to check on you. Alexis wasn’t surprised to find you still heavily upset, but the physical sickness was hard to watch. She’s so grateful that you listened to her and called Joe. She can’t imagine you going through this without his support.

“I got her to agree to take Benadryl.” Joe’s eyes are focused on the island as he sits down at the barstool and leans back. Alexis hasn’t been around Joe a ton, but that’s not needed to tell he’s a myriad of emotions right now, primarily anger. He adds, clearly concerned, “she can’t keep anything down.”

“She’s a wreck,” Alexis says as kindly as she can, because it’s the ugly truth. She’s always known you to be so calm and composed. This is anything but. Yes, there were a couple moments where you lost your temper. But post Callie? You’ve been the textbook definition of what it looks like to be a picture of calmness in a storm. 

Now….now you’re just a disaster.

Not that a single soul could blame you.

“How is Callie? Like, really?” Alexis isn’t sure if asking him this right now is the right move, but she’s genuinely curious. She’d take a bet that he played it down for the sake of your current mental state.

“Confused. Sad as hell. Doesn’t know why the fuck she’s just been ripped from her mother for no reason.” His anger is palpable and completely understandable. 

Alexis listens, working to control her own anger. Mariah’s beating wasn’t good enough. “It’s fucked up. That’s for sure.”

His jaw is clenched as she states, boldly, “I’ve gotta get them out of this damn town.” 

Alexis looks at him, partially not following his statement. “Aren’t they already moving to live with you?

“Yes, at the end of the summer, but that’s not soon enough.” She hears what he’s saying, but she isn’t quite sure about the realistic aspect of what he clearly wants at this point. “I need them out of here now.”

Alexis takes a second before responding, not wanting to further upset him. Typically, she doesn’t give two shits about how her words are perceived, but this is an entirely different situation. “You’re not wrong, Joe, but Y/N can’t just up and leave—”

“We don’t have much of a fucking choice, Alexis.” His tone, if not for the current circumstances, would be completely unacceptable. He’s talking to her like she’s a child, but Alexis knows emotions are high, so she sets aside her pride. “I don’t want that bitch anywhere near them.” 

Careful with her words, she counters calmly, “you know there’s a chance Y/N's not going to like that.” 

Alexis knows you, and knows that you like order. You’d want to properly close out the year, have time to say goodbye. Then again, after something like this, she’s not actually 100% sure where you’d stand on moving sooner than initially planned.

Joe then brings up a valid point. “It’s not about what she likes and doesn’t like. It’s about Calista and what’s best for her.” He’s not wrong, Alexis won’t deny him that. “Mariah is fucking psychotic, and I’m not taking any more chances with her pulling anymore shit like this. I’ve already contacted my lawyers to see what options we have there.”

Joe lawyering up makes all the sense in the world. It’s probably the smartest decision for him and Y/N, which is why she’s so grateful she stopped you from catching an unnecessary charge. “I can beat her ass again once she gets released from the hospital. It was quite therapeutic actually.” Alexis is slightly pleased to hear Joe chuckle at her words, even if she’s being completely honest. “I’ll tell you this, but don’t tell Y/N. She’s got enough she’s dealing with.” 

Joe is quick to assert. “I don’t like keeping things from her.”

Ignoring his counter, Alexis supplies, “Mariah was fucking Amir when I got there. Like, I literally caught them in bed.” 

As expected, Joe looks taken back, “what?”

She nods and adds, “but that’s not it. When the stupid bitch was begging for him to help her, she said they have a son together.” Lowering her voice in case you somehow fought the powers of Benadryl, she concludes, “I think Amir is the biological father of her kid,”

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Joe is suddenly wishing he acted upon impulse instead of logic and beat the shit out of Amir that night he had the chance. That bastard really was a scumbag. He’s also partially wishing he’d tagged along with Mariah. Joe would never put his hands on a woman, but Amir? He’d be laid out in the hospital just like Mariah is. “Just how long have they been messing around?”

“Long enough for her to get knocked up by him.” She shakes her head, trying to settle the growing anger. “God, I hate her ass. Him too, but definitely her. How do you just fuck your best friend’s ex like that? When you know she’s fucking him too? Fuckin nasty ass hoe.” 

He won’t disagree, sharing, “you probably already know this, but Mariah used to mess with Randy Orton, and he'd said she ended up being clingy and crazy when he broke it off.” 

“Really?” Alexis remembers you mentioning to her that Mariah was sleeping with a wrestler around the same time you first got with Joe but nothing about how it ended. “That lines up.”

“I never really paid much attention to it, because she wasn’t relevant to me, and Orton was an ass back in the day, so I took it with a grain of salt.” A heavy frown appears on his handsome face. “Clearly, that was a mistake.”

Realizing what’s happening, she shakes her head. “Oh my god. Not you too.” She jumps into her therapist mode, nearly repeating exactly what she’d said to you this morning. “This is no one’s fault except for Mariah. Not yours. Not Y/N’s, just that raggedy hoe.” 

Joe tries his best to heed to Alexis’s advice. “You’ve never liked her, right?” Alexis nods aggressively. “Why?” 

“I always felt like she was jealous of Y/N. Like….she benefited way more from her friendship with Y/N than Y/N did. When we were in college, Y/N was popular and well liked, and I get the sense that that’s always been the case. Mariah clearly benefited from that, so the jealousy wasn’t as bad, not enough for Y/N to notice it anyway.” Alexis starts to speculate, though she feels it’s more fact than hypothesis. “But then you come back in the picture, and the tide turns. Y/N gets the guy, the kid, the happy family. And then on top of all that, homegirl finally gets exposed, so Y/N, rightfully, cuts her off. But psycho-riah wasn’t having that.”

Laying it all out like that makes sense to both Joe and Alexis. It’s obvious Mariah is disturbed, because only a person not right in the head would do what she’s done. All of the things she’s done. But maybe it never got this bad because she and Y/N were always around the same level, both living in this small ass town, just raising their kids. 

Then he came in the picture, and she got jealous. 

It makes sense.

It also pisses him the fuck off. 

“This probably isn’t the right time to ask this, but I’m gonna do it anyway, because you never know when my warrant is gonna become active.” There’s such a casualness and nonchalant manner regarding how Alexis refers to her pending arrest, like it’s not that big a deal. And for her, it really isn’t. She knows her lawyers will most likely have her out on bond and charges dropped or dismissed by the end of the week. Hence her prying. “But just when in the hell do you plan to propose to Y/N?”

It’s definitely a 180 in topics that Joe wasn’t expecting, especially when she continues.

“I know it’s gotta be coming soon, because it’s obvious you love the mess out of her and want to be with her forever, but when, sir? Don’t be having my girl out here as a glorified girlfriend for too long, cause I don’t care how big you are, you can catch that Mariah Edition beating right along with her.” Joe smiles, shaking his head. It’s a much needed break from all the heaviness of the day. “And you best not get her knocked up again before it happens.” She considers her words and retracts. “Then again, ya’ll both freaky as hell and fuck like rabbits, so maybe that one is a stretch.”

With a casual shrug, Joe goes for his response. “Who says I don’t al—”

“Wait. Don’t say anything.” She interrupts, hands up as if remembering something. “I suck at keeping secrets, and I’m sure you’re gonna go all out for the proposal, so don’t tell me shit.” She nods, as if trying to convince herself that this is the safest and best route. “Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding. Then again, I’ll just show up anyway regardless.”

He has zero doubt she won’t.

But while Alexis' random tangent brings about brief relief, his mind easily switches back to the major issue at hand. 

“You know I’m right, Lex.” He looks at her, again reiterating, “they can’t stay here.” It’s in expressing her theory about Mariah aloud that helps Alexis realize Joe’s even more valid in his stance than she thought. “I can’t have this happen again. Y/N and Callie can’t have this happen again especially. They’re both a mess.” He looks down, jaw clenching. “I can’t see them go through this again.” 

There’s no desire or basis to argue. Alexis can’t imagine how difficult this must be for him as well. To see all this happening, to see the two people he loves the most be in pain and not be able to do anything about it. 

It’s gotta be torture.

She finally settles on a simple, basic answer. “You’re right.”

Joe is quiet for a few moments, expression indicating he’s searching and trying to navigate something. Alexis watches as he suddenly pulls out his phone, typing hurriedly. She figures he's sending a text to someone when he finally says, “I need you to do something for me.”

There’s not a second of hesitation. “Consider it done.”

“Good.” He doesn’t waste any time, recognizing every moment that passes is precious. “How quickly can you get a flight out to Florida?”

________

Before agreeing to take the tiny pink pill of sleep damnation, you made Joe promise to wake you up at 7am sharp. The home inspection was scheduled for 3pm, but you have something you need to do before then.

And Joe is true to his word, stirring you awake not a minute past 7.

Despite his protest and disagreement, you skip breakfast. It’s going on two days since you’ve actually had and retained a meal, but you can’t bring yourself to do so, your abs already sore from all the contractions that come with vomiting.

So, you settle on coffee and get to cleaning. Joe helps you, though there’s not much to be done, just little things that the average person wouldn’t pay much attention to. But, you’re not taking any risks. Your place needs to be as spotless as humanly possible. 

And you need to look as good as you can, so you spend much more time than necessary in the shower, scrubbing your body clean, shaving every piece of hair that doesn’t need to be there. All very much over the top, but you don’t care. You need to feel prepared. 

You even take on the daunting task of laying your mass of curls into a slick top bun. In your opinion, it’s always made you look ten times more professional. Even if it does take ten times as long to accomplish because of all your hair. 

Still, worth it. Everything is worth it if it means having your daughter back in your custody. 

It’s why you dig through your closet for the nicest set of business professional attire that you own, some nice dress pants and a white blouse that beautifully compliments your complexion. 

The top has always been a little snug around your chest, which is expected, even if feeling a little tighter than usual.

What you don’t expect or need is to slide on said pants only to find out you can’t get them to snap. Even the jump and wiggle to better adjust it over your ass and thighs isn’t enough to secure the button.

You stand there for a moment, only briefly stumped. You’re realizing that one of your earlier assumptions before this whole mess was correct.

You’ve put on weight.

It was something you first started to notice when you looked again at the post Alexis made of you on your Instagram. You could see it a little in your face, but mostly your ass and thighs. Thankfully, you’ve always typically carried your weight in all the right places. And it isn’t anything too crazy, maybe something only you notice because you know your body better than anyone.

But, it’s enough to where your go-to pants no longer fit. 

It’s not too concerning, especially with everything else you have going on. You’ve always yo-yo’d a bit with your weight and interestingly enough, the same happened in the months after your first meeting with Joe all those years ago.

“Happy weight,” you’re sure Alexis would call it. 

Sliding them off, you settle on another pair, close to your favorites and a size bigger. They snap closed, and that little thing makes you feel instantly relieved.

It’s another thirty minutes before you finally exit the bedroom, face beat in neutral yet professional makeup. Joe moves from where he was texting on the sofa and approaches you.

Concern is etched in the crinkles around his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“No. I—I got this. Go—go spend the day with Callie.” Because I’d do anything to be able to do just that. “You probably shouldn’t even be here around me.”

It’s partially true. Joe isn’t even on Callie’s birth certificate, so as far as the law is concerned, you’re the only parent under investigation. Still, the irrational fear is strong that they’ll find some reason to add him to the investigation if they find out he’s been interacting with both you and Callie.

You can’t even think about what hell it would be if Joe was also barred from having any engagement with Callie.

You couldn’t handle it. Callie couldn’t handle it. And Joe wouldn’t stand for it. You know that for certain. He wouldn’t give a damn what the law stated.

“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.” His dismissal is swift and firm. You have a feeling there isn’t a force on earth that could keep him from being with you right now. From being around Callie. “Are you sure you don’t want to try to eat something?”

Shaking your head, you explain. “No. I can’t risk vomiting again. I drank some Gatorade. I’ll be fine.” You don’t have a choice. Voice softening, you apologize again. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I had no idea she could ever—“

He stops you before you can get choked up. Joe's hands are on your face, comforting, “none of this is your fault, and I don’t blame you for anything. None of it.” His thumb brushes softly against your cheek. “But….but I do think we need to discuss moving up the move date for you and Callie.”

“I know.” You're certain he expected more of a push back from you, some level of argument, but he won’t find it. Mariah has taken that right away from you. “We—we can talk about it more later, okay?”

Understandably, he’s pleased and brings his hand to your hip, giving a gentle squeeze. “You should get going.” He’s right. The sooner you tackle this, the sooner you can focus on nailing this visitation. 

He kisses your forehead, lips lingering as he murmurs, “I love you.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing those words leave his mouth, needing to hear them now more than ever. You’re so grateful for him and all he does. “I love you too.”

You’re grabbing your purse and keys off the key holder on the wall when he calls out your name. 

“Mariah didn’t say anything to you before this, right? Outside of the exchange that day you told me about?” His question takes you by surprise, and he adds, probably not wanting you to feel like you’re on the witness stand. “My lawyers want to know if we can establish a paper trail.”

He’d mentioned reaching out to his legal team to see what recourse was available, but it isn’t something you’re overtly thrilled about. You understand where he’s coming from, but that’s not a route you’re sure you want to go down. Legal battles, from what you know, can get really ugly. And there’s a massive fear that somehow Callie will get dragged into the mess, forced to answer to lawyers and judges.

Your baby’s been traumatized enough already.

It’s why you decide on an answer that’s not the truth, but what you feel is best for your daughter. Once this is all said and done, you just want to put this all behind you and focus on your family.

Besides, there’s nothing else Mariah can do at this point, no lower she can stoop.

“No.” Even as it leaves your mouth, there’s a deep, nagging feeling that you’ve made the wrong decision not being honest with him. “She never said anything.”

—---------

“Is Dr. Sawyer available?”

Your voice is strong, firm, the exact opposite of everything you’ve felt over the past 48 hours. It’s a great display of fake confidence. 

The receptionist looks up with a surprisingly friendly smile. “I’m sorry, do you have an appointment or—”

“I’m an old friend. I really need to talk to him. It’s, uhh, it’s an emergency.” It may be a bit of a stretch to call your desire to get some questions answered an emergency, but you’ll say and do whatever it takes to get Kai’s attention. “Tell him it’s Y/N.”

She asks you to give her a few minutes, and you decide to take a seat in the waiting area. Pulling out your phone, you text Joe to let him know you’ve made it here and ready to text your mom when you suddenly remember.

That’s been the other hard part of this debacle. Going through one of the hardest things you’ve ever endured and not being able to talk to your mom about it. If you had to choose between her guidance and your daughter being put under her care, you’d go with the latter every single time.

But that doesn’t take way the sadness you have at not being able to talk to your own mother. 

“Y/N?”

Lifting your attention form your phone, you’re met with Kai Sawyer’s signature smile. 

He looks both surprised and relieved to see you.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you—”

“No. Not a bother at all.” He sits down on the seat opposite of you, and given the only couple people in the ER are on the other side of the waiting room, you decide this is a safe place to talk. “I’m actually happy to see you Y/N.”

There’s something wary about his tone of voice, like he’s hinting at something he won’t outright say. That’s when you remember the sole reason Kai was even inserted into your life again, and it hits you. “DCFS spoke to you, didn’t they?”

It makes all the sense. Callie was rushed to the emergency room and had to undergo emergency surgery. You’re certain her medical records are also being reviewed, that kind of incident standing out to investigators.

Kai might be aware of the anxiety that’s starting to grow and proceeds to explain. “Yes, and I told them it was absolute bullshit.” His face takes on a look of disgust and irritation. “That it’s been years since I’ve seen a child so deeply connected and bonded with a parent like I saw with you and Callie. Her appendicitis and subsequent surgery was completely happenstance, and you did everything right.”

His words bring tears to your eyes. You know you’re a good mom and did the best you could that night, but it means a lot that Kai would defend you so staunchly who are trying to determine just that. “Thank you, Kai.”

“I didn’t say anything that was a lie.” His expression is sympathetic. “I’m really sorry this is happening to you, Y/N. Do you have any idea who made the call?”

“That’s actually why I’m here.” You blot at your eyes, not wanting to test the hold of this waterproof mascara. “Do you remember when you told me you were happy I got away from Mariah and Amir?”

“Yeah, why?” His eyes widen with shock. “Wait, did they—“

“It was Mariah.” Swallowing, there’s a bit of an edge in your voice as you explain. “That’s why I’m here. I need to know just who the hell I’ve called a best friend all these years, so much so that I made her Callie’s legal godmother.”

“Whoa, I thought—-you were still friends with her after all these years?” You shake your head yes, and he looks truly apologetic. “I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“That I’d been smarter? Yeah, me too.” Aside from depression and apathy, you’re struggling with beating yourself up for not recognizing sooner what kind of person Mariah truly is. How your oblivion could be strong. “Please, tell me what you know.”

He blows out a deep breath and leans back into the chair. “Well, I mean there’s no easy way to say this, but Mariah and Amir have been messing around since we were in high school.”

Your stomach drops. 

That’s…..that’s not what you were expecting to hear.

In a whispered, pained voice, you ask, “what?”

He sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I don’t mean to get too personal, but I know it started around the time Amir was trying to pressure you into sleeping with him.” If not for the nature of the conversation, you’d find it a little adorable how he’s obviously trying his best to remain respectful. Kai has always been a genuinely decent guy. “He would constantly complain about you not ‘putting out’ around the locker room and during practice. And once he started hooking up with Mariah, he’d always brag about sleeping with the both of you.”

There’s so much to digest here. You’d figured Mariah and Amir were messing around after his slip around Christmas, but you figured it was a recent development. Now, you’re hearing that the girl you’ve considered a sister almost your whole life has been sleeping with the boy you once thought you loved from the very beginning?

“The times you couldn’t make it to parties, they’d be all over each other, but no one said anything because—”

“Because it was Amir,” you finish for him with a whisper. “He was the king of the school. No one would snitch on him, especially not his teammates.” You’re very familiar with the hierarchy and patriarchy of high school. You were the queen, just as much as he was the king, and everyone knew that you and Amir were always back and forth. They probably figured that you knew, or maybe they didn’t. You’re not so worried or stunned by just how many people knew and didn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter at this point.

What matters is that Mariah has always been a snake, a snake you brought around your child.

The child she got taken from you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything either—”

“No, don’t. You didn’t owe me anything.” It’s the two people who claimed to love and care about you who should have been honest. “I should apologize to you for dragging you into that bullshit. I’m really sorry, Kai. You didn’t deserve that.”

“We were kids, Y/N. Didn’t know any better.” Kai is clearly as uninterested in an apology from you as you are from him. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but are you and Amir still….”

“No.” Just the thought alone nearly has you back to retching into the nearest toilet. “We were on and off friends with benefits since, well, high school. Outside of when I was with Callie’s dad for three years, but now Joe and I are back together. Have been for months.” There’s a small hint of excitement, the first non-sad emotion you’ve experienced in the past two days as you inform, “Callie and I will be moving to Florida to live with him.”

“Good.” Kai seems genuinely happy and pleased to hear this. “Hell, as a man, I can imagine he’d get you both on a plane out of here today if he could.” A small, sad chuckle leaves your mouth at his words. He’s probably not wrong. “You should have been left this place, Y/N. You deserve better. Always did. Get out of here and have a fresh start.”

The encouragement isn’t required but deeply appreciated. His openness and honesty provide you with a slither of relief. The information shared is something you’ll have to process at a later date and time, but it does answer some necessary questions you needed answered.

There’s no doubt in your mind at this point that leaving is absolutely what you need to do.

You just need to get through this nightmare first.

[monzamash]

not in the mood — carlos sainz

carlos sainz x you (femreader) | 1.9k summary – grumpy uncle Carlos is struggling on the extended family holiday and you will do anything to shake him from his bad mood. rating – 18+ (sex, language, google translated spanish) a/n – i’ve decided to collate the sentence starters i got for each driver so that we can get a bit juicer and i can do a little more plot with the smut lol masterlist

You could tell from the moment Carlos stepped off his father’s sailboat that he wasn’t happy. It was a look you’d seen before – typically after a bad race or when the vintage car he’d been working on in his workshop wouldn’t start; infuriated and overtired, two emotions he wasn’t capable of controlling. The vein bulging on his forehead told you to keep your distance while he cooled off, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. Hopefully simmering down.

“Is tio angry at us, tia?” Little Edgar asked, tugging on your long sundress as he watched his uncle storm off towards the resort without a word.

“He’d never be mad at you, cariño…” You replied quietly and brushed the young boys curls from his face, encouraging him to go play with his siblings in the water. But the question had to be asked.

“What happened out there?”

Carlos’ father simply shrugged and threw the cooler filled with bait onto the sand beside his wife, “He gets so worked up over nothing – frustrated with me, frustrated with the little ones. Desagradecida,” He muttered under his breath.

Carlos never got upset over “nothing”. Sure, he was competitive and easily annoyed by small things, pouting to you that something wasn’t right in his mind but storming off a boat after what was supposed to be a nice afternoon with his father and nephews? That wasn’t your Carlos and you stayed silent, not agreeing with Papa on this one.

“Well whatever happened, I’m sure he’ll be over it by dinner.” You sighed, willing your words into reality for the sake of the holiday.

His mother nodded in agreement, knowing that her son was never upset for long. Thankfully she changed the subject and sent her husband on a mission to get her another cocktail from the beach bar. You took the break in conversation to return to your suite where you assumed your husband was brooding alone, probably grumbling to himself in the otherwise silent room.

And you were right. As soon as you clicked the door open, you heard it. The unintelligible Spanish that he always used when he was angry – quietly cursing whoever was coming to ruin his peace and quiet. But you didn’t care if he was annoyed by your presence; you’d been together for long enough to sense what the other needed, especially if something was upsetting them.

He would've done the same for you.

“Don’t throw a pillow at me. I come in peace,” You said, rounding the corner and surrendering your power with your hands up beside your face.

He looked exactly as you expected; propped up against the bed head, thick black rimmed reading glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his eyes trained on the book you’d gotten him from the market that morning. At first he ignored you, pretending to be completely immersed in the book he was reading. 

But the quick glance up in your direction was enough to make you smirk. The pout he had on his face when he breezed past you on the beach a few minutes ago was still there, shoulders tensed around his strong neck. The only difference now was that he was shirtless, gloriously tanned and looking painfully beautiful lying on the white linen sheets. You always compared him to a flawlessly chiselled statue, mouth-wateringly perfect in every way.

“You didn’t need to come at all.”

Okay, so maybe not perfect all the time.

“Well I came up because the boys were worried that they’d made you angry but I can’t imagine any scenario where that would be true…”

Carlos’ eyes snapped up to yours, his pout now a frown as he listened to your words. He felt a pang of guilt shoot to his heart as you sat down on the end of the bed, watching his brain tick over and finally realise the effect he had on the people he loved, his little carbon copies. He was Tio Carlos, after all. Their hero.

“Ay, they didn’t think I was mad at them?” He asked more as a question than a statement and you nodded – not to make him feel bad but because it was the truth. The bitter truth from the way his face dropped again, now sadder than before.

“Meirde,” Carlos mumbled under his breath, “I wasn’t angry at them – it was my father. He was shouting at them like he did to me when I was a boy… making them feel stupid so I told him to fuck off and he was not happy about that…” He trailed off, rolling his eyes with a huff.

“I’ll go down and see the boys soon but I just can’t be around him like this,” Carlos added and you understood. He was clearly fired up, fight or flight mode activated with the former winning out.

There weren’t many things that really got under Carlos’ skin but those kids meant more to him than anything. He was protective of them and seeing them being bullied like he was as a young boy triggered him – made him see red and although he was close to his father now, there was a lot of underlying problems that had never been resolved.

Obviously this was one of them but it would be a shame to let all of that pent up anger and aggression go to waste, you thought.

“Fair enough, honey,” You whispered and stood up, smoothing your long sundress out as Carlos went back to his book, “I’ll give you some space but I’m not wearing any underwear right now… Just thought you should know that.”

In true Carlos fashion, he didn’t even flinch at your words, not even a glance nor did he stop you from leaving at first. It wasn’t until your hand was gripping the door handle that you heard him yell out from the bedroom, “And where do you think you’re going then?”

His voice sounded hoarse, deep and tantalisingly sexy as you trotted back to where he was, now sprawled out on the bed and waiting for your return. The book he was seemingly so enthralled in when you left was still open but discarded as you crawled up beside it with a smirk, merely imitating the expression on his face as he watched you.

Eyes forever trained on yours, tempting you up onto his lap that he was patting. Your fingernails dragged along the exposed skin on his thighs that the short shorts weren’t covering, tanned and hairy. Strong and muscular, mind reeling from the things they could do.

Carlos was pouting when you leaned in closer to his face, telepathically sending signals for you to kiss him. It had been a rough afternoon but having you to take his mind of it well and truly made up for it. You smiled and pressed your lips to his, arms snaking around his neck as you settled onto his lap, letting the weight of the day melt into his touch.

His hands crept around your waist and naturally dropped lower to your backside that he was always mesmerised by. There was hardly ever a moment when you were alone that he wasn’t either touching it or gawking at it and you loved it. The attention, the physically touch – he had you wrapped around his finger, and him yours.

“Let your frustration out on me, baby.”

Your permission ignited something deep inside Carlos. A little spark in his eyes catching on as you pulled back and captured his stare, aroused by the darkness and the steeliness as he tugged you into his chest. He was groaning under his breath as you moved above him, stirring that feeling he couldn’t ignore and that you could feel between your thighs.

“Te quiero con todo mi corazón,” Carlos whispered as you reached up and removed the reading glasses from his beautiful face, peppering kisses all over his cheeks.

“I think you look so sexy in these but I don’t want to break them,” You confessed and he simply smirked as he lifted your hips up and pulled his shorts down, freeing himself from the tight material.

“I know you do, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and licked your palm before grasping his growing stiffness in your hand, delicately rolling your wrist to get him to where you needed him. It never took long and with all of the kissing and teasing you’d done to him all morning; Carlos was pretty much hard on sight. But you loved how big he felt in your hand and the way his eyebrows scrunched together when you gripped him a little too tight, a hiss slipping from his lips every time.

“Actually you look sexier like this,” You smiled and kissed him again as he started bunching up your dress, moaning as you continued to pleasure him, tease him. But he got you back, sliding his fingers through your slick and pushing two fingers into you without warning, jerking you forward over his shoulder.

“Oh my god!” You shouted, both hands now gripping the back of his head as he fucked you, knuckle deep and revelling in the fact that you were now on the receiving end of his pleasure.

“Shh, I can hear people in the other room, cariño,” Carlos whispered facetiously, voice taunting and secretly wanting everyone to know that he was the reason for your screams.

“Well don’t shove your fingers inside of me without warning and I would be quiet,” You snapped back before he hit that sweet spot, causing you to return to crook of his neck with a whimpering moan.

“Asshole.”

Carlos snickered at you waving your metaphorical white flag. He loved you taking control and that’s what you did once you sunk down on him, taking his thick cock all the way until you bottomed out. A low, raspy moan slipped from your throat when you felt him twitch inside you, hips snapping up in an attempt to get you to move.

“Don’t rush me, baby. You feel so fucking big… God, why do you feel so big?”

“Because I am huge,” Carlos shamelessly retorted, head titled back and watching squirming on top of him. You rolled your eyes and straightened your back; now feeling like you had a point to prove.

As you sat up, you pressed your hands to his chest, hips rolling achingly slow and taking full advantage of your position.

“Okay, with that kind of arrogance and the way you’ve been moping around all day, you’ve lost your touching rights, my love.”

You slapped his hands off your thighs and watched his eyes glaze over with lust, “Hands off.”

Carlos pouted and reached out with his grabby hands, “Ay, no, please. I have to touch you.”

There was a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he pleaded with you, and you could see right through his façade. Even with his unbelievably thick cock filling you to the brim, brushing against that spot deep inside you that would usually have you unravelling in a matter of seconds, you didn’t crack. Not even a little.

“Hands. Off.”

And with those stern words, Carlos simply laid back on the pillows and tucked his hands behind his head, watching as you gave him a show. He couldn’t have loved you any more than he did in that moment – for making him feel like his entire body was on fire and for remedying his bad mood.

You really were a miracle worker. And you were all his.

a//n – ayyyy, the first of the monzamash special! i'm so glad people sent in requests for carlos – he's so fun to write. the next one will either be charles or daniel so let me know if you have preference! and thank you all again for 700 followers x masterlist | askbox

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: bodyguard!aemond targaryen x president's daughter!reader

warnings: explicit language. secret relationship. some sweet fluff. a highkey dark & obsessive aemond (as usual, that’s basically my brand). babytrapping. mentions of tiddy sucking but that’s rlly it.

notes: hi my little loves, long time no write. several months back, @welight-theway asked for a continuation of the bodyguard!aemond fic, so here it is! hope you enjoy it !! 🫶🏼

also im literally walking out the door as i post this, to walk the graduation stage and get my bachelor's hehe. 2nd gen college student over here 🥰

masterlist

As funny as it might sound, it was your breasts that tipped him off to the little one in your belly.

Sergeant Aemond One-Eye Targaryen is unashamedly a boob man — one so incredibly obsessed with your boobs, as much so as he is with the rest of your body, heart, and soul combined. He actually remembers this particular shirt (a low-cut halter top in his favorite color) you wore to a close friend’s birthday dinner; it looked absolutely stunning on you, showing off the perfect teasingly amount of cleavage that left his mouth watering and pants painfully tight. He helped you sneak out of the house with it, knowing that your father would’ve busted the vein in his forehead if he saw. It was three weeks into his new job as your personal bodyguard and four long years into his infatuation with you.

But that was around four months, and now he has you, and knows you — both inside and out.

So when your pretty face scrunches up in obvious discomfort when he sucks on your right boob and gnaws at your nipple, he is left raising an eyebrow. He has your boobs in his mouth all the time… the short hiss that soon follows between gritted teeth is a bit concerning as well. What is wrong, baby? he coos. It feels sore, you whine, hiding your face in his neck. Hurts too, daddy. Don’t like it. And you’re right, he realizes. Both your breasts and nipples appear more swollen than usual, puffy and tender, and maybe even … a bit plumper too?

Aemond thinks he has a faint grasp of what might be going on with his sweet girl.

He spends the following week eyeing your every movement around him, studying the way you walk and talk, eat and sleep, and how often you might visit the restroom. Frequent urination, odd food cravings, some complaints of minor backache here and there, and midday fatigue … when he googles ‘signs you might be pregnant’ later that evening, his suspicions are correct.

You are pregnant…with his baby. Oh. OH! Aemond is simply over the moon. He wants to cry and shout and pound his chest in happiness, manners and etiquette be damned. And he didn’t think it was actually possible, but he feels himself falling deeper in love with you, his mind constantly muddled with the sight of you fucked so full of him.

This … this is what you were made for, he knows — carrying all his babies, giving him the family he deserves.

“You’ve made me a daddy,” he mumbles against your stomach, careful not to stir you. You’re cuddled around a silk body pillow, exhausted from the four orgasms he gave you, fisting the sheets in a tight grip. “Good girl.” He then presses a tiny, feathery kiss above your belly button, gently dragging his lips across your soft skin, before closing his eyes. Aemond remembers a dreamlike fantasy he had around two years ago, back when he was stationed overseas at Ali Al Salem in Kuwait. He had been napping in an army tent, your picture clutched between his thumb and index finger.

(His favorite picture. Your father had posted it on Instagram as a birthday post; you were sitting at the dinner table with a strawberry shortcake cupcake centered in front of you, the 18-shaped candle poking out of the thick frosting.)

In his dream, you were his pretty little housewife, fingers laced together as you anxiously awaited your husband’s return. Once his laced-up combat boots stepped inside the American airport, you flung yourself into his arms, pleading with him never to leave you again. And he promised. Gods, did he promise. You were everything and more, how could he possibly neglect you again? He woke up only five minutes later, just when you were shyly spreading your legs open, and he was catching a glimpse of your wet cunt; he could’ve cursed the world and murdered someone at that moment.

Aemond almost wishes he could tell that younger sergeant that it’ll all be worth it. All that fucking fixation and hard work would play out in the end, and his ship would arrive at the right dock, and she’d be there to greet him.

Two months in, he notices all the small changes in your body. You’re none the wiser, of course, but your breasts are fuller, and your pretty face is carrying a new glow that shines along your cheekbones and smile. And the baby bump isn’t quite obvious yet, although that doesn’t stop his attention from constantly straying down to your tummy, in hopes of seeing something — anything —  poke out. How could he not admire his beautiful and pregnant woman?

I know you’re in there, he sometimes thinks to himself, mostly in amusement. You might have fooled your mother, but not your daddy.  

Three and a half weeks later, he kisses the tip of your nose and lips before whispering the news in your ear. Your head tilts in equal shock and confusion while your eyes widen and eyebrows furrow. “I’m…pregnant?” you breathe out. You then squint down, watching as your palm flattens across your lower belly. “Are… are you sure?”

He nods. “The signs are all there, baby.”

“What signs?”

“Remember when you were complaining about your breasts earlier?” You nod. He continues, “-sore and sensitive breasts are usually a sign of pregnancy. Haven’t you noticed that they’re a bit… fuller as well? Cup ‘em, baby, feel them.”

You do as he says, cupping your breasts. Around your nipples is a little tenderness that does hurt a bit, and they do fill out in your hands, but you didn’t think much of it before. You chalked it up to PMSing but now… now you’re left speechless, unable to process anything else but the fact you might actually be pregnant. Chuckling, Aemond rests his hands on your shoulders before pressing his forehead against yours. In his lone eye — both happiness and pride.

“I’m so sure of this… but if you’d like, just to be on the safe side, we can always have you take a pregnancy test.”

“Yeah!” you perk up. “Yeah…yeah, um, I think that is a good idea. Just to be positive, y’know.”

Aemond runs a quick trip to the local CVS, and forty-five minutes later, the pregnancy test displays two pink lines, side by side.

You’re pregnant with Aemond’s baby.

He’s completely overjoyed. You’re just trying to mentally plan out how to break the news to your father.  

So it is quite hard to hide a swelling belly; this you learn throughout the next few months. You got lucky during the first trimester, having barely shown with some minor symptoms. But now halfway into your second trimester, there are only so many oversized sweaters and graphic t-shirts you can wear until it arouses suspicion.  

But Aemond, he is simply so gentle and loving towards you, providing constant naked cuddles and belly strokes. He feels more like a husband than a lover, or even a retired decorated sergeant hired as your bodyguard.

You’re a bit worried about public reaction, and your father’s response to your unexpected pregnancy. Your father loves you so much, but at the end of the day, he is still your father, and you are his little girl. “What are the chances he might blacklist you?” you ask Aemond one afternoon, the two of you in the kitchen cooking lunch. “And send me to a nunnery in Switzerland?”

Aemond laughs. “Very unlikely, baby.”

“He’s going to be so upset…”

“It’ll be fine, quit worrying so much.”

“AEMOND!” you snap, bracing against the kitchen counter. Your temple falls into your hands, and you feel that sudden rush of stupid pregnancy hormones overcoming your thoughts. “It won’t be fine! Don’t you understand?! He’s going to hate me! HATE ME! He’s going to be so disappointed with me. I’m still young, in college, and unwedded. Can you imagine all the shit the public will say? All his political rivals, the media, people in school…”

I’m done. In the public’s eye, I’m ruined.

Aemond pauses his mixing of the salad greens, nuts, vegetables, and cheese, setting the bowl to the side. His head drops, and he lets out a loud sigh. “No one is taking you away from me,” he states, in a low and raspy voice. “Especially your damn father.” You blink, taken back a bit. “I don’t give a shit that your dad is the damn president of this fucking nation. You’re mine. That kid in your belly is mine.”

“Aemond…”

“I’ll marry you if I need to. Is that what your father wants? Would he be happy if his pregnant daughter was married to her baby daddy? Would it make all this unnecessary drama shit better? Cause I’ll fucking do it.”

You glance down at your bare feet, wiggling your painted toes. The mauve-colored nail polish is chipping along your big toenail. If you’d ask, Aemond would definitely repaint them.  

“Do you want me to marry you?”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip before you press your mouth in a tight line. “I don’t know if my daddy will let me marry you…” you admit, toying with your fingers.

Aemond then leans against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh? Is that so?” In his mind, he is freshly eighteen and enlisting in the army, attempting so hard to ignore the snarky comments made toward both his nose and chin and quiet demeanor. All the doubt and torment, the constant undermining and discouragement, and being told he’d never amount to a higher ranking.

His eye drops to your baby bump poking out from behind your shirt, and the delicious way those cute booty shorts hug your hips. You’re everything and more. “I can’t lose you,” he says, shaking his head. “I will not lose you.” He is so incredibly in love with you, driven by obsession, and deepened by the fact that you’re carrying his child.

“I’ll marry you. Next month, next week, even tomorrow if you’d like. Just say yes, and I’ll handle the rest.”

He has the ring in his bedroom, tucked away in the back of his top bedside table drawer — a love knot, glittering with a French pave’ set of diamonds that cover the band halfway in 18k white gold. A symbol of everlasting love, he was told by the jeweler. It’s been in his possession for well over a year now, he just needed to find a reason to use it.

And a baby seems like the perfect reason, doesn’t it?

(creds to the loml my literal everything @chainsawsangel for the banner above <33)

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke